Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (18 page)

‘Kerela, your presence is a blessing. Tell me, how goes the training of our people?’

‘I must tell you something.’

‘It can wait.’ Takaar held up a hand. ‘Sit with me. Tell me of your successes.’

Kerela nodded and sat on the bed next to Takaar. ‘We lost some, but we knew we would. The mana bowl is a dangerous place, and some could not open their minds to the human magic despite its
similarity to ours. But you were right. Even those with limited Il-Aryn ability have found strength in the lore and magical structures of the Julatsan approach. Some have turned from the Il-Aryn
and I for one will never leave here. This is my home, as it is to hundreds of those you sent here.’

Takaar smiled. ‘You are my greatest triumph. Don’t let Auum dominate you. Follow your heart’s desires. Fight alongside Xetesk. Ally with anyone to break the Wytch Lords. They
must not threaten Herendeneth; we’re vulnerable there.’

‘What about Dawnthief? Surely Auum was right: we must leave the spell hidden.’

‘From Xetesk, yes. But from me or you or the good souls of this college? No. Research makes us stronger and in that spell lies the sum of all magical knowledge for those capable of
unpicking its secrets.’

‘Then you must not let them send you away. We’ll need you when this is done.’

Told you. Your authority is long gone.

Takaar picked at his arm, and the cacophony in his head meant he had trouble framing his next words.

‘S-send me away?’

‘Auum wants you to go to Korina to your ships. Drech has sanctioned it.’

Drech.

‘Drech!’

Betrayer.

‘Betrayer!’

‘Takaar?’

Takaar turned to Kerela and managed a smile though his hands were iron and he desired so much to indulge his rage. The cacophony would not die down.

‘Kerela, I am sorry. Those who once loved me are starting to desert me. You remain faithful, don’t you?’

‘Always,’ said Kerela. ‘But they are determined you should go. I will petition Sipharec to give you sanctuary here.’

‘The Senserii will not let me be put on a cart and carried away like some chattel.’

Kerela’s voice was a whisper. ‘I don’t think they will stand against Auum and Drech. Their greatest desire is to see you safe.’

‘I won’t hide here. I must join the fight and, when it is done, join the search.’

‘Patience. Please, Takaar.’

You have none of that.

‘I have none of that.’

Mages at the base of the city wall and behind the gates expended huge energy investing the stone and timbers with more and more strength. Arrows flew in volleys from the
ramparts and castings kept the Wesmen back whenever it looked as if an assault might be imminent. But outside, on the trampled ground, the shamen stood in large groups protected by their warriors
and out of range of spell and arrow, launching attack after attack on Julatsa’s defences.

Harild had explained that they had sent raiding parties to their deaths in pursuit of the shamen. The black fire ate through magical shields, and the Wesman warriors were quick and brutal. And
so the stage was set and the end of the play was no mystery. Julatsa’s walls or gates would be breached. Not today and probably not tomorrow or the next day, but it was only a matter of
time.

‘Still no word from Xetesk or the other colleges?’ said Auum.

Harild shook his head. ‘Our latest messengers say they are fully committed in the defence of Understone Pass. No aid is coming.’

They were standing in the main gatehouse. Fire picked at the great timber doors below and dislodged stone from wide areas surrounding the great hinges and braces either side. Shamen had tried to
attack the gatehouse itself but Il-Aryn magic had turned the fire away.

‘You should have flown mages out under cover of darkness,’ said Ulysan. ‘Come at them from the rear.’

‘We discussed it but the shamen can sense the use of mana; it’s like they can smell a casting just like they can with your Il-Aryn. Trying it would have been suicide.’

‘But this is the time to attack, isn’t it?’ said Auum. ‘At night they’re scattered throughout the camp. Right now they’re gathered in five clear groups.
Strong in magic but vulnerable to attack if we can get close enough.’

‘Aye, but there’s the problem,’ said Harild.

‘Hmm,’ said Auum. ‘Where’s Drech?’

‘Back at the college talking to the Il-Aryn and any of the Julatsan elves not on the walls. Why, got an idea?’

Auum looked back at the nearest shaman team plastering the walls with their black fire. There had to be close to fifty of them, closely guarded by two hundred Wesman warriors taunting the
defenders, exhorting them to come out and fight.

‘I have, but the timing is going to be critical. I’m going to need every TaiGethen warrior ready and able to use their emergent speed. I’m going to need the Il-Aryn too, and
the Julatsan mages and your cavalry.’

‘Auum?’ said Ulysan.

‘We’ll break them one group at a time.’

In the middle of the afternoon they were set. Auum had settled on sixty TaiGethen to go out, leaving twelve full cells plus the wounded inside the city as back-up. A hundred Il-Aryn prepared
themselves for a single casting while the remaining twenty-seven would spot for weaknesses. Every elven Julatsan adept had volunteered to fly out, and Auum had let Kerela choose seventy of them.
Eighty cavalrymen were mounted and ready.

‘Get this wrong and a lot of us will die,’ said Auum.

‘They know this casting,’ said Drech, still doubting. ‘It’s inconceivable that Ystormun hasn’t informed them about the weakness.’

‘I’m counting on it,’ said Auum. He turned to his TaiGethen, every one painted and ready. Prayers had been spoken and souls commended to Shorth. ‘Thrynn, Faleen, Hassek,
Grafyrre, Merrat, Nyann, Merke, Vaart, Marack, Nokhe, Hohan, Oryaal. All of you survived Katura. We are veterans of battle, our brothers and sisters are not. Lead your cells but lead the others
also. Die old, not today.

‘Harild, watch for the moment. I trust you and your cavalry.’

Harild nodded but his doubt was there, plain to see. ‘How can you get to them? I don’t understand.’

‘Trust me and look to your role. If you’re late, the blood that flows will be of elves and the men of Julatsa.’

‘We won’t fail them.’

Auum nodded. ‘Drech, ready your Il-Aryn. TaiGethen, form up.’

They were all mustered at the main gates, which still shuddered under the impact of Wytch Lord magic. Auum took a breath to ease the constriction in his chest as Drech and his Il-Aryn drew on
the earth’s energies to form their grand casting. Just as on the ship, it came into place quickly, a shimmering barrier of air made solid. Auum could not deny the bitter taste in his mouth at
the necessity. He didn’t think he would ever reconcile himself fully to the use of magic.

‘Open the gates!’ called Harild.

Auum could hear cheers from the Wesmen as the gates were hauled open, screeching and protesting against their winches and hinges. Black fire rattled hard against the timbers, the fingers seeking
targets within the city, but Drech moved his barrier into place and the sudden quiet from the spell attack was distracting.

‘Forward!’ ordered Auum. ‘Drech, just hold it as long as you can and then get back inside.’

The TaiGethen moved behind the barrier, which Drech and his people held steady while the black fire moved quickly to its apex, picking away at the mana strands that bound it and were its
weakness. Auum could hear free Il-Aryn shouting out warnings and he fancied he could feel the casters fighting to strengthen weak spots.

Beyond the barrier Auum could see Wesman warriors forming up to either side of the shamen, unable to see through the barrier but correctly identifying its intent. They began to advance, careful
not to cross into their shamen’s line of sight. The shamen were positioned some hundred yards from the gates and dead ahead of them. Auum and the TaiGethen had moved twenty slow yards forward
when the warning came from Drech.

‘We’re losing it.’

The barrier was twisting and shimmering violently. Shaman fire ripped at it in more places than Auum could count and holes were appearing through which the fire spat.

‘TaiGethen, be ready.’ Auum moved forward another three paces, seeing Wesmen advancing steadily, warily. ‘Drech, now! Tais, scatter!’

The barrier disappeared, and for a heartbeat the shaman magic was gone too. Auum let the power of Yniss flood him and the earth beneath his feet cushion him, and he ran. The TaiGethen broke
apart, sprinting away hard at multiple angles designed to confuse and distract their enemy.

Auum saw and heard it all so clearly. The growing surprise on the faces of the enemy warriors combined with the confusion of the shamen about where to send their fire. There were mages in
flight, soaring high above the battlefield, heading out behind the enemy camps. And when the shamen finally began to target the TaiGethen, the sound of hooves was music to Auum’s ears.

Auum seared across the ground, his Tais around him, racing past the Wesmen and ignoring the targets they represented. Black fire laced out in multiple directions, seeking elven bodies. But while
the fire travelled at extreme speed, the minds and the hands of the shamen did not.

Auum saw black tendrils swinging towards him. He slithered to a halt and started down a different line. He rolled beneath one tendril, leaped between two others and moved in. Beside him a line
of fire caught a TaiGethen in the flank, spinning him out of control to sprawl on the ground.

Auum could see their eyes now, the desperation on their faces and the feverish playing of their foul casting in front of them as they tried to bring down elves they could barely see. But the
closer the TaiGethen got, the greater the risk they ran despite their speed. He had to trust to luck and believe that his Tais would make the right moves.

Auum was ten paces from the shamen when the fire caught him. He slid low beneath a blitz of fire tendrils and rolled, his body outstretched. He gathered himself and leaped high, meaning to land
in their midst, but the line of black fire caught his left arm, spinning him fast and off balance. It burned through his shoulder and down into his hand. He could smell his seared flesh, and his
shirt smouldered and glowed orange where the fire struck.

Still moving under the shetharyn, he crashed into the shamen, tumbling and turning, trying to get his feet beneath him while the burning consumed his arm. Gasping in a breath, Auum came to a
halt sprawled on top of a shaman, his eyes looking up into a sky filled with moving bodies. There was shouting and he heard the hiss of blades leaving scabbards.

Black fire crackled all around him. He rolled again, his feet finding the ground, and rose, right fist already lashing out at any body in his vision, his left arm hanging useless by his side.
TaiGethen crashed into the shamen in numbers, deflecting their attention from him.

A dagger came at him from his left. He spun and kicked it from the shaman’s hand, leaned in hard and butted him in the forehead. He drew a blade and whirled a complete circle, forcing
space to open up. Fighting was going on all around him. He heard the detonation of spells ahead of him and the thundering of hooves behind.

Auum focused as well as he could, weaving his sword in front of him and trying to sense what was at his back. He moved towards a shaman. He was wearing a broad necklace of animal bones; the skin
that showed beneath cloak and clothes was heavily tattooed, and there was an expression of pure malice on his weathered flat-featured face.

Auum struck forward, and the shaman danced back. He clapped his hands together and the black fire capered between his palms. He opened them to strike at Auum, who dropped to his haunches and
swept out a foot, tripping his enemy and sending him back a couple of paces, his magic gone.

Auum rushed forward. In the press of shamen battling for their lives against the blurring TaiGethen he didn’t see the knife blade that tore into his left arm, redoubling the pain. The blow
rocked him sideways. Instinct took over. Auum kicked out to the side and high, feeling his boot connect with a face. Simultaneously, he threw his blade. It spun end over end and buried itself to
the hilt in the shaman’s chest, splintering his bone necklace.

Auum dropped to the ground, on his haunches again. A dagger blade whipped over his head. He turned quickly, dragging a jaqrui from its pouch and flicking it out and up, seeing the blade lodge
deep in the thigh of his target. Behind him a scream split the air. Auum forced himself back to his feet to grab back his blade. In front of him a shaman stood for a moment, confusion on his face
while his brain dribbled from his split skull.

Ulysan was at his side. Auum felt himself picked up and rushed back in the direction of the city walls. He saw other TaiGethen bodies smouldering on the ground but the shamen were gone,
massacred.

Harild’s cavalry galloped past, sending Wesmen to their deaths or running blindly away. Spells crashed down from the mages sent to the back of the enemy lines. Drech and his Il-Aryn moved
back onto the battlefield, creating a safe corridor against further black fire.

Ulysan slowed, giving them a sight of the battlefield before they ducked back through the barriers. Wesmen were gathering in defence to their left. Ahead of the gates, the enemy were gone.
Bodies crowded the ground. There was cheering from the walls. TaiGethen moved across the area, helping the wounded away and carrying the bodies of their dead.

The cavalry made one more sweep and galloped back through the gates. Through his misted eyes Auum could see more shamen moving up behind their warrior guards. The taunting had ceased. They had
landed a significant blow but Auum counted seven TaiGethen bodies being carried away. Too many. If they were to break the siege, they needed to adapt their tactics.

‘Come on, let’s get you seen to,’ said Ulysan.

Auum looked into his face. He was bleeding from a cut to his cheek but his eyes were alive with excitement. ‘You seem to make a habit of carrying me bleeding from battlefields.’