Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (15 page)

‘How long before the walls fall?’ asked Auum.

Stein shook his head. ‘We’ll have invested magical strength in the walls and gates, but it only takes one casting to fail and the enemy to realise it. I had no idea there were so
many of them.’

‘Where are your allies?’ asked Faleen. ‘I thought your colleges were united against this enemy?’

‘The greater part of our armies is engaged at Understone Pass, and of course every college must maintain enough defence for itself.’

Auum frowned. ‘What and where is Understone Pass?’

‘It’s a tunnel through the Blackthorne Mountains about four days south of here.’

Auum sighed. ‘I’ve heard it all now. Not only did one of your idiot mages create an apocalypse then tell your enemies about it, you’ve also built a tunnel through your greatest
barrier.’

‘It was supposed to help trade, engender trust and eventually bring peace,’ said Stein.

‘It is stupid in so many ways that I cannot begin to start,’ said Auum. ‘You built a tunnel to your enemy’s lands. Rather than force them to sail or come over the
mountains, which looks some task, you thought you’d give them a nice easy route. Dear Yniss as my witness, how did you ever enslave Calaius?’

‘Forgive me, Auum, but this is a distraction right now,’ said Faleen. ‘You’re saying, Stein, that we can expect no help from your allies.’

‘The signs weren’t promising before the siege was laid.’

‘And only your city is under siege. Why?’ asked Grafyrre.

Stein blew out his cheeks. ‘The Wesmen want to destroy us one college at a time. They threaten the pass with enough force to ensure they cannot be ignored and, meanwhile, manage to bring
thousands to my walls.’

‘Solid tactic,’ said Merrat.

‘Until we showed up,’ said Ulysan.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Stein again.

‘Where’s Drech?’ asked Auum. ‘Ah, there you are. Been listening? Good. We need to make some big holes in the shaman strength. If we can that’ll relieve the pressure
on the walls and leave us free to get inside once we knock a path through the Wesman lines. What did you learn about the Wytch Lord magic? Can you stop it?’

‘We’ve only had brief contact with it, but I can tell you it’s sourced from somewhere beyond anything the Il-Aryn will ever use.’

‘It’s an inter-dimensional magic,’ said Stein. ‘Very hard to counteract.’

‘Tak—’

‘Don’t mention his name,’ said Auum. ‘He’s to have nothing to do with this.’

Drech looked over to where Takaar was speaking to many of the Il-Aryn. The adoration in their eyes made Auum shudder.

‘He has the most experience,’ said Drech.

‘Whatever is cast has to stop them and get my TaiGethen to the Wesmen. I need someone I can trust. That’s you and not him.’

Drech nodded. ‘There is one thing we can do.’

‘Good,’ said Auum. ‘Go and work on it. Stein, can the Wesmen see in the dark?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

Auum chuckled. ‘You don’t help yourselves, do you?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Stein.

‘What need have we of trees when we have the night?’

The night was lit up by a ring of fires. The Wesmen camped where they dropped, about three hundred yards from the walls. Tribal standards were planted in the ground. Warriors
ate, drank, slept and sparred. They had outer pickets, but each of these was lit by a fire too and Auum could only shake his head at the idiocy of it all. Not one of them would have any eyes for
the night.

Auum had split his force into two. The smaller part, made up entirely of TaiGethen under the direction of Grafyrre, he had sent to the main gates, where they were to create a diversion to draw
away as many as they could. Auum led the other force, which was to take the rear gates and hold the corridor open until Grafyrre’s twenty-one made it back.

Before they launched the attack, Auum visited Takaar and the Senserii.

‘Gilderon, speak with me.’

Gilderon looked to Takaar, who waved a hand impatiently. Gilderon broke from the Senserii and stalked to Auum, his ikari in his hands.

‘What do you want?’

Auum spread his hands. ‘You have no love for me yet I respect your loyalty as I do your prowess as a fighter. I need to ask a favour. I know you will be protecting Takaar when we move, but
I also need you to protect Drech. My TaiGethen will keep the Wesmen from you, the Il-Aryn should stifle the shamen but there are always risks and we cannot afford to lose him. Will you
help?’

Gilderon inclined his head.

‘Thank you.’

‘It is not for you.’

‘Nevertheless, let’s not be enemies. We were once good friends.’

‘In another life, Auum. We both chose our paths and there is a chasm between them. I will do as you ask only because it is right for Takaar.’

Auum returned to the TaiGethen and relayed his intentions to Drech and Stein.

‘What now?’ asked Stein.

‘Now we wait. Just a little bit.’

Grafyrre led his seven cells towards the Wesman camp sprawling in front of Julatsa’s main gates. The gates themselves seemed remarkably undamaged given the amount of
power the shamen must have brought to bear on them, but the walls to either side were looking ragged and were sagging.

‘Don’t lose your Tais and don’t lose your heads. When the shamen start to gather themselves, get out. Don’t leave anyone behind. Tais, we fight.’

The seven cells split from each other as they approached the outer pickets. Grafyrre had identified sets of fires for each one. He’d taken the most central route for himself, his cell of
Ferinn and Lynees, two newly emerged TaiGethen, moving silently with him. Three Wesmen stood at the picket talking among themselves. Their fire was bright and cast a pool of light beyond which they
would be able to see nothing at all.

‘Go,’ said Grafyrre.

He exploded from his crouched position, driving in as hard as he could. He came across the fire feet first and found his target’s head with both, driving him straight back. Knife in hand,
Grafyrre dropped and slit his victim’s throat. He paused while his Tais completed their kills and stared ahead. They had not been seen.

Grafyrre moved in low, his chin brushing the top of the few stems of grass that had eluded the boots of the Wesmen, and headed for his next target fire. It was busy. Fourteen Wesmen lounged
about it, others were asleep further away. Shamen were among them, one of them telling a story judging by the gestures he was making.

Grafyrre dropped prone and crawled over the rough ground towards a sleeping enemy. The snoring Wesman stank of spirit liquor. Grafyrre crawled up to his body, peering over his stomach at the
fire. A few of the warriors had short weapons belted on, but most of their heavier blades and axes were gathered in one stand a few feet to the left of the campfire.

Grafyrre drilled a knife into the sleeper’s temple, who jerked, coughed and was still. He looked to his Tai and nodded. Both signalled that they were ready. Grafyrre re-sheathed his dagger
and stood, drawing his twin blades as he did. Ferinn and Lynees stood to either side of him, three painted ghosts rising from the grass.

The Wesmen became aware of them slowly, the first who saw them nudging the warrior next to him. A third was sitting with his back to them, close enough to touch. He stopped tearing at the animal
bone in his hands and looked round, took in Grafyrre’s camouflage, his weapons and his stance and made a grab for a weapon.

Grafyrre stamped on his wrist and chopped a blade through his shoulder. The Wesman howled and fell forward. Jaqruis sighed across the fire, striking targets in the face and throat. Ferinn and
Lynees chased through after them. Ferinn lashed a kick into a Wesman nose. Lynees chopped her blade into the side of another scrambling to his feet.

Grafyrre headed right. Three shamen stared at him, their palms held up in front of their chests, mouths moving in quiet chant. Grafyrre whipped a blade across the neck of one, hacked his other
into the arms of the second and landed a butt square on the bridge of the third’s nose.

Ahead of him, a warrior had stood and grabbed a dagger from his belt. Grafyrre moved in, blocked a straight thrust aside and thumped a kick into the Wesman’s stomach. He staggered back,
winded. Grafyrre moved up a pace and thrust a blade through his heart.

Grafyrre could feel the camp coming alive around him. Shouts were going up, voices raised in alarm, and a horn sounded, urgent and anxious and cut off abruptly. He nodded.

‘Good, good.’

Lynees leaped high, kicking out to either side, her feet connecting with shamen heads. She landed, her blade blurring in the firelight. Blood blew across the smoke and hissed on the fire.
Grafyrre moved to join her. The Wesmen were beginning to organise themselves. A knot of eight or so was gathered under a standard, weapons bristling as they tried to cover every angle.

Shamen were running for the dubious security of their warriors. Grafyrre led the charge at the knot by the standard. He hurled a jaqrui in first, seeing it deflect off an axe blade and spin
away, its target never seeing it and alive only by good fortune.

Lynees and Ferinn were at his shoulders.

‘Over the blades,’ he said.

The three TaiGethen tore in, jumping high two paces from the Wesman blades. Grafyrre’s front foot caught a warrior on the forehead, snapping his head back and putting him down. Grafyrre
landed astride him, pierced his chest with a blade and spun to his left, fielding a fast strike on his sword. The Wesman drew back to strike again but failed to see Ferinn coming from his right.
Her kick caught him in the side of the head, knocking him senseless.

Grafyrre dropped to his haunches to avoid a swipe. He bounced back up, kicked out into his target’s knee and followed up with blows from both blades, seeing one blocked and the other bite
deep into the Wesman’s side. Lynees swept the legs from another Wesman and jabbed a blade hard into his gut. She turned a forward roll across his body, rose in the same movement and jammed
her sword into the groin of another.

Horns were blaring across the Wesman camp now. Grafyrre turned to face the last of the knot of Wesmen. Behind him the standard exploded under the force of black fire.

‘Get to shadow!’ he called.

He rushed the Wesman, swaying outside a thrust to his midriff and hacking into the small of the tribesman’s back. He grabbed the injured man around the throat and turned him into the path
of two shamen. Black fire ripped into his body, seeking the elf who held him.

The Wesman screamed. Grafyrre held him upright and pushed him into the shamen, his body colliding with them on its way to the ground. Grafyrre dropped his blades, pulled a jaqrui from his belt
pouch and threw. The blade mourned across the short space and thudded into a shaman’s temple, knocking him down. Grafyrre ran hard at the other one, seeing him stretch out his arms to cast.
He leaped above the black fire that raged from the shaman’s fingertips and landed with his legs around the man’s shoulders.

Grafyrre grasped his head in both hands and twisted hard. The shaman grunted and fell. Grafyrre went with the fall, rolling away, coming to his feet and tearing back in to smash a foot into the
enemy’s windpipe. He ran to pick up his swords and headed for the shadows beyond the ring of campfires.

Ferinn and Lynees joined him to look at their work. The camp was in uproar. TaiGethen were still among them, doing awful damage. Wesmen tried to organise themselves but had no idea where their
enemy was coming from in the confusing firelight and the puddles of dark night.

To the left and the right Grafyrre could see others hurrying to join the defence. If the elves escaped unscathed it would have been the perfect attack. But now it was time to break. He had to
trust that each cell leader would see the signs. Some were already moving back into the night. Howls of pain told of others still deep in the skirmish.

Grafyrre heard the crackle of black fire and saw fingers of it pick at the ground where elven feet had run. He tracked back to the source and saw a defended group of shamen looking for
targets.

‘Let’s get them and get out,’ he said. ‘Tai, with me.’

Auum watched the concerted movement away from the main gates and nodded his approval. Stein had long since flown into the college to seek assistance and Auum hoped he could
muster some cover at the city walls by the rear gates.

‘Time to go,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep the pace high. TaiGethen to the flanks. Drech, stay near Takaar and the Senserii. Il-Aryn, don’t cast unless you must;
you’ll only attract attention. Take Drech’s lead. Let’s go.’

The run was about half a mile. Though a good number of Wesmen had answered the horn calls, hundreds had stayed put, warriors and shamen both. Auum moved off, Ulysan and Duele with him, spread to
cover the front. The Senserii with Takaar and Drech among them ran immediately behind, and the rest of the Il-Aryn came in their wake, TaiGethen running a defence around them.

At the outer pickets the TaiGethen moved to take out the guards, leaving Auum clear space in which to run. They gathered momentum. Two cells ran wide either side of Auum as they approached the
first fires.

‘Keep it up, don’t get stalled.’ Auum drew a jaqrui and cocked it ready. ‘Tai, break on my word.’

Auum watched Wesmen rushing in ahead of them. Horns sounded close and more were readying themselves on both flanks. Auum glanced behind him. Gilderon watched everything and missed nothing. There
was no one Auum trusted more to make the right decision every time in a fight.

Auum threw his jaqrui. The crescent blade keened across the thirty-yard space and lodged in a Wesman chest. The warrior coughed blood and pitched forward. Others roared and charged.