Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (11 page)

‘Not just Il-Aryn but TaiGethen too,’ said Takaar, increasing the pressure on his throat. He smirked. ‘Silly human thinks to lay a hand on me.’

‘Takaar.’ Stein gulped. ‘Don’t. We need each other.’

‘I think that time has passed.’

Takaar’s hands gripped tighter. Stein had his hands on the elf’s wrists but Takaar was strong and his madness only made him stronger. Stein began to choke, praying Drech or someone
could see what was happening. Nothing else was going to save him.

A scream rent the air. Black fire cascaded through a great tear in the barrier, which collapsed in on itself, dumping freezing water across the deck. Takaar’s head snapped round and he was
gone as fast as he had struck. Stein sat up. The Il-Aryn were sprawled on the deck or stumbling around dazed. One had blood pouring from her ears and she screamed again, her voice taken up by
others.

‘Get it back!’ roared Takaar from somewhere, his voice desperate and high. ‘Get! It! Back!’

‘Too late,’ murmured Stein.

Black fire lashed the ship from the fingertips of a dozen hands. Stein dived for the questionable sanctuary that was the base of the mainmast, shuddering at the thought that he’d seen all
this before and it hadn’t ended well. Jagged like lightning, the fire bit into rigging, sail and timber. Fingers of magic tore at the hull, ripping into timbers and shattering them, tearing
off great splinters and hurling them up into the sky.

Fire laced the deck, spitting holes and slicing through yards, sheets and stays. Above him sailcloth burned. Black streaks pounded into the great trunk of the mainmast. Stein felt it shudder and
creak above him, a snapping noise sounded deep within it.

All around him elves were diving for whatever cover they could find. Il-Aryn, crew and TaiGethen alike fled, and for far too many it was hopeless. Javelins of hateful magic buried in chest, face
and gut, throwing their victims around like dolls. He saw a TaiGethen pinioned to the rail, fire blazing from his eyes, his body jerking and smouldering before the power was done with him and he
fell into the water below.

‘Got to do something,’ muttered Stein, though he knew a spell would draw their fire to him like moths.

He could hear the Wytch Lord magic smashing beneath him, tearing the ship apart.
Capricious
was heeled over now and the unmistakeable sound of rushing water added to the screams, the
crackle of flames and the splintering of wood. From above flame rained down as the sails disintegrated. And, with a decisive crack, the mainmast broke and fell to port.

Stein hurried around the base, finding himself in the firing line.

‘Get overboard!’ someone shouted. ‘Abandon ship! Abandon ship.’

‘Not yet.’ Stein prepared quickly, his mind focused while his body prepared for the death strike of enemy fire that must surely come. ‘Have some of this!’

Stein stood, spread his hands as wide as he could and cast. Ice borne on a hurricane howled from his fingertips, over the heads of desperate and dying elves, across the sea and into the heart of
the enemy vessel. Timbers, sails and faces blackened under the onslaught of the super-cooled storm. Frost rimed mast and spars. It gathered in waves across the deck. And it killed. The thought of
that was so good Stein didn’t want it to stop.

Wesmen and their so recently triumphant shamen had their shouts of victory frozen in their throats. Their limbs seized, their hearts became frost and the blood in their veins was stilled in an
instant. The black fire shut off but for one shaman in the stern, who turned his focus from the ship’s hull to the lone mage.

Stein saw it coming and dived aside. Dread magic spat across the deck where he’d been standing.

‘Whoa!’

He rolled and came to his feet, scrabbling to find a little more cover, though precious little was left. Waves were breaking over the starboard rail as the vessel heeled over. She wallowed, and
the bodies of elves shifted in time with the ocean.

‘Time to go.’

Stein raced for the bow, pulling together a final casting on the run. It was difficult to concentrate. The shaman had him in his sights and the black fire was closing fast. Deck timbers split
behind him. The ashes of sails floated about his head. Fire raged over the jib sail, which flapped glowing edges, spraying hot canvas across his vision.

Stein prayed he had enough of the casting together to make sense and dived over the bow rail. Wings of Shade sprouted from his shoulder blades, wisps at first but strengthening as he poured
everything he had left into them. He powered into a climb, feeling his feet trace the wave tips before he spun into a full ascent, gaining height so quickly it stole his breath.

Well beyond the reach of Wytch Lord magic, Stein levelled and circled, making a lazy descent to survey the state of the fight. He tried to take in as much as he could, anything that might be of
use to those who needed to know.

Behind the rear line of the enemy, the
Soul of Yniss
was in clear water and executing a turn that would bring her on to a run back through the carnage. The rear line itself was in total
chaos. In the centre the ship he’d fired earlier was going nowhere. The sails had burned away and the masts were aflame. One was down and the deck and hull were awash with fire. She would
sink inside the hour.

Immediately to her port side, another enemy vessel was on a collision course with her. Every sail was full and she looked a picture of serenity. All that was missing was any movement on her deck
or her rigging. Stein took a breath. These TaiGethen were something else when they got to work. It was much the same story with the remaining vessels in the back line. Some fighting was still going
on, but the black fire had been silenced. Around the dead vessels the water was full of elves swimming hard for their next targets, making progress through the water that a dolphin would respect.
Well, perhaps not quite, but that was the story he was going to tell when he got back to Julatsa.

At the head of the enemy fleet things were not quite so clear cut. The central vessel of the front five, which they’d dubbed the flagship whether it was or not, was continuing
unchallenged, just as they’d planned, knowing they could catch it with their superior speed. But the vessel on its port side was also intact, meaning the
Spirit of Tual
had failed to
get her TaiGethen close enough to board.

Out on the flanks both enemy ships were under attack and wilting, though black fire continued to arc out from each. And as Stein closed in a little, he saw TaiGethen in the sea and swarming up
the hull of the remaining vessel. The enemy had seen them but he gave them no chance.

Stein dropped further, on his way towards the
Soul
to report to Esteren. On his way past he saw that the
Spirit
had been forced into a tack to starboard, which was leading her
out of the fight. She’d been supposed to come about into a run to chase down the flagship, but there had been no space for that turn. And across to the other flank, the
Gyaam’s
Blessing
had not made sufficient headway east and could not block the flagship, leaving her free to make her way south. It would all cost time unless they could think of another plan.

Stein swooped down over the heads of TaiGethen powering through the swell. Auum was leading them, his body flickering through the water, leaving barely a ripple in his wake. Stein turned and
tracked him for a moment before dropping down to hover above him.

‘Auum,’ he called.

‘Stein,’ said Auum, not looking up, nor slowing to listen. ‘What’s our status?’

Stein filled him in. ‘We’ll be a long while chasing her down, that’s all.’

‘I hear you,’ said Auum. ‘Leave it to us.’

‘You’re supposed to be boarding the
Blessing
,’ said Stein.

‘Not any more.’ Auum glanced at him for a moment. ‘Where’s Takaar?’

‘In the water if he’s alive. Drech too.’

‘Find them and save them both. Though it pains me to say it, we need Takaar.’

‘He tried to kill me just now.’

Auum smiled. ‘Then that’s something else you and I share. Go.’

Curious to know what Auum meant, Stein flew away towards the foundering wreck of
Capricious
, unsure if he hoped to find Takaar alive or not.

Ollem was struggling. Though his heart hadn’t been pierced by the black fire, his ribs, flesh and muscles were bruised and burned, and he was having increasing difficulty
keeping up the pace. Auum could tell his breathing was laboured whenever the swell allowed him to see. Ulysan was swimming close behind him, the worry plain on his face. The water was cold. Ollem
wasn’t going to last.

Ahead, the two remaining enemy ships were making good speed, but the fit TaiGethen would catch them soon enough. They had to prevent the shamen getting a message back to the Wytch Lords. Stein
had been certain the shamen could not send word to Ystormun, but he would eventually check in and would then know he was under attack.

The elves had to land somewhere hidden and unopposed, or the fight might be lost on the shores of Balaia. Auum took another look at Ollem and his decision was made. He circled an arm above his
head and trod water, waiting for his people to gather about him. Twenty-nine including himself bobbed in the water. Ulysan had a hand on Ollem’s back. The only fatality had come from
Duele’s cell and he wore the fact like a cloak of stone. It gave Auum an idea.

‘We have to up our speed,’ said Auum. ‘Ollem, I’m sorry but you have to get to a ship. The
Blessing
is closest. But you won’t go alone. For any of you who
know you can swim no faster and then fight, there is no shame. Do not die for pride. Iriess, you will go with Ollem.’

Iriess thought to protest but Auum held her gaze until she nodded.

Auum continued: ‘Duele, you will fight with Ulysan and me.’

Duele smiled through the pain of losing one of his own. ‘The honour is too great,’ he said.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Ulysan, his smile as broad as Duele’s. ‘A taste of your future, perhaps.’

‘Shut up, Ulysan,’ said Auum. ‘Tais, let us swim hard and fight harder. Keep low in the water. We’ll take the flagship stern to bow.’

Stein took a closer look at the enemy vessels in the second row. The one they’d attacked had surviving crew and at least one shaman on board. It was sailing away after
the flagship, still under control. None of the others showed any signs of life.

To his left,
Capricious
was all but gone. She was lying on her side with water bubbling and frothing around her. Too many would go down with her but he couldn’t worry about what
that meant to their efforts in Balaia. Instead, Stein searched the flotsam for survivors. He was heartened to find a significant knot of them on or around the stripped-clean mizzenmast.

Both Drech and Takaar were among them along with the latter’s Senserii guard, masked elves who made Stein very nervous. Drech was full of energy and spirited words. Takaar was plainly lost
within himself, staring at the wreck of the ship as if he expected to wake from his delusion of invulnerability at any moment.

Stein flew low over them, telling them he’d be back, an idea sparking in his head. He turned and flew back towards the enemy ship taken by
Capricious
’s complement of
TaiGethen.

‘There they are,’ he shouted into the wind.

It was a sight to truly gladden his heart. TaiGethen warriors, perhaps fifteen of them, were swimming to the side of a longboat on which five wounded elves were seated while eight others pulled
on oars. They’d lost two, which was a shame but not a disaster by any means. Stein called a warning of his approach and landed lightly on the bow, resting his feet but not too much
weight.

‘You’ve more to pick up,’ he said. ‘The other side of the wreck. Takaar is with them.’

‘We thought as much,’ said a voice from the water to his left. Stein looked down at the elf, fighting briefly to remember his name. Grafyrre, that was it; one whom Auum held in the
highest regard. ‘We’re heading to pick up survivors and get on board the
Soul
.’

‘Perfect,’ said Stein. ‘She’s coming about now. I’ll spot survivors for you. Most can swim; some you’ll need to pick out of the water.’

‘Takaar?’ asked Grafyrre.

‘Still alive. Drech too and a good number of your people.’ Stein dropped onto the bow seat and dismissed his wings. He turned and looked forward, waiting until they had cleared the
sinking wreck and given him clear sight of his target before he began to cast. ‘Keep her steady if you can. There’s a little thing I need to do.’

Even before he had completed the shape and cast his spell of rapacious flame and heat, he was imagining the screams of the burning shaman and how satisfying it would be to destroy the last of
those who had broken
Capricious
.

The body shuddered and grasped at the bow rail to steady itself. Slowly Ystormun gained control. He found the legs and made the body stand. He found the arms and adjusted the
grip on the rail to lever himself upright. The view gradually melted into focus, giving him a view of glorious clear water ahead and Calaius on the horizon.

But then the hearing cleared from its muted roar and he could hear anxiety in every command and a harsh edge to the shouts of Wesman warriors. And when the sense of smell finally came to him,
the stench was of magic and fire. Ystormun shook the head – his head – but nothing changed.

Gasping in a breath, he turned, looked back down the ship and wasn’t sure what to stare at first. Way back now, he could see two of his vessels on fire. Others sat dead in the water, sails
limp. Another was sailing off into the east and the open ocean to nowhere. Only one other of his ships was still with him, and chasing them were two, no three, elven cutters.