Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (48 page)

‘Come on,’ said Auum.

He led his unique cell across the oval, seeing Sentaya still up and fighting. The Il-Aryn had changed tactics and so far they were working. Small domes shimmered into existence over the two
remaining groups of shamen every few paces, forcing them to break the wards before moving on. Auum could see Rith crouched on a rooftop at the back of the village directing their placement. It
would only delay the inevitable, but it was smart and bought Sentaya a few precious moments.

Auum ran around the right flank, where Marack was organising the dwindling TaiGethen into five cells.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Auum on the way past.

Marack smashed her blades into a Wesman face and stomach, turning her head briefly as the blood splattered across her features. Her grin was fierce.

‘TaiGethen survivors incoming,’ she said then raised her eyebrows. ‘And the Senserii.’

Auum’s heart leaped. Marack turned back to the fight. Wesmen were running in again, too many to hold off.

‘Break with them,’ said Auum. ‘Get fire on the shamen if you can. Protect the mages.’

‘It’s done,’ said Marack.

Auum sprinted away. He could see a group of elves tearing across the ground, light glinting from the blades tipping their staffs.

‘Where’s Takaar?’ asked Auum when he reached them.

Gilderon pointed past him. ‘Already in the village with the Il-Aryn. He had some ideas.’

‘I think I’ve seen one of them already. We have to get him to Ystormun. Can he destroy him?’

‘He plans to hold him until the Xeteskians arrive.’ Gilderon indicated a smudge of dust away to the east. ‘They can cage him.’

‘Then let’s get him to Ystormun, it’s a reunion that’s long overdue.’

‘Which way?’ asked Gilderon.

‘There. Ystormun’s heading in from the north.’

Auum looked back across the village. Spears of black slapped into Sentaya’s line, scattering burning and blistered warriors across the oval. A black sphere the size of a boulder and shot
through with pure white crashed into the first buildings, shattering wood and bursting through stone walls, smearing the bodies of the Communion mages inside across the stone.

Ystormun was at the gates.

The enemy warriors surged forward as their remaining shamen sought targets among the survivors. The defensive line, already compromised by Ystormun’s intervention, was shattered along two
thirds of its length, and with enemies pouring in behind them the rest of the line broke too.

Auum glanced back at the mage and Il-Aryn positions, seeing Grafyrre leading his surviving TaiGethen towards them, cutting off the advance of attacking Wesmen. Auum could see the fury in
Grafyrre’s face and in every blow he struck. Merrat had been his closest friend for three thousand years, and his death in such a manner would be hard avenged on his enemies.

‘Tilman, get to the mages, find Takaar and bring him back to us. We’re cutting a path to that bastard.’

‘I want to fight with you,’ said Tilman, fearing a slight.

‘And so you shall, but your task is critical. Takaar must join us or Ystormun will kill us all.’

Tilman nodded and hurried away. Auum winked at Ulysan.

‘Gets him out of harm’s way,’ he said. ‘Takaar will see Ystormun long before Tilman finds him.’

Two Senserii had gone with Takaar. Auum led Ulysan and the twelve others back into the fight. The battle line had dissolved into a confusion of skirmishes across the oval and around buildings,
paddocks and yards. This reduced the effectiveness of the shamen, forcing them to seek out individual enemies for fear of striking their own. But behind them, directing them, was Ystormun, his eyes
everywhere, always seeking his greatest adversaries.

‘I’m coming to you, you bastard,’ muttered Auum.

The TaiGethen and Senserii flowed across the ground, spreading through the fighting. Auum took the centre with Ulysan and Gilderon. Auum watched the enemy tactics evolve. They outnumbered
Sentaya and the elves by three to one at least, allowing them to keep one-on-one fights going while moving the shamen steadily to the right, under the guard of good numbers of fresh warriors.

‘They’re heading for our casting positions!’ called Auum. ‘Drive on, but help Sentaya on our way.’

Auum was about fifty yards from the first knot of shamen, which was moving quickly to an open position. He sprinted forward feeling the comforting presence of Ulysan at his left shoulder and the
strength of Gilderon to his right. The oval was crowded with fighting and dying. Auum raised his blades above his head and both he and Ulysan stepped up to leap high over the heads of the
combatants. Auum brought his legs into a tuck and hacked down with his right blade, feeling it bite into the top of an enemy skull.

He landed, bent his right knee and battered a kick into the chin of a warrior getting the better of one of Sentaya’s men. The flash of a blade on his right was Gilderon. His ikari speed
was without equal. The petrified wood, strong as steel, levered between three enemies pressing a single warrior.

The flow of Gilderon’s arms and the balance of his body were perfect. He struck the leftmost in the face with one blade, stabbed the rightmost in the throat with the other, and his
momentum carried him forward to butt the third square on the bridge of the nose.

Auum ran on, dropping and cutting his blade through an enemy’s hamstrings, kicking out sideways to crack into knee joint or hip. Ulysan beside him was using his fists and body among the
flailing steel, snapping out punches to kidneys, rolling and thudding fists up into groins and shouldering enemies off balance. Everywhere they and the Senserii passed, Sentaya’s men could
close and counter-attack.

But the body count was high. Defenders, people Auum had seen hugging their children, lay burned or run through, blood pooling before it soaked into the ground. Auum burst through the last of the
fighters and into clear space, acutely aware he was momentarily turning his back towards Ystormun.

He took a glance at the Wytch Lord, who was surveying the battlefield. He opened his palm and another black orb seared out to demolish a building on the edge of the village. Wesmen surged into
the space, racing towards the defenders’ casting positions. Auum had to assume Grafyrre would see them.

Auum charged towards a running group of five shamen encircled by Wesmen. He pulled a jaqrui from its pouch.

‘Gilderon, the warriors. Ulysan, with me.’

‘As you command,’ said Gilderon.

The Senserii lifted his staff and circled it above his head. His brothers moved in on either flank to form a semicircle and drove in as the shamen shouted warnings and ran on. Wesmen stopped to
intercept the attack and the Senserii engulfed them. The shamen slowed and turned, already casting.

Gilderon fenced away an overhead blow and jammed a blade tip into his attacker’s gut. Auum hurdled the falling body and flung his jaqrui at the shaman in his path. It caught his shoulder,
knocking him to the dirt. Ulysan’s crescent fared better, lodging in his target’s throat. The other three opened their hands.

Auum readied to leap but a shimmering barrier snapped into place in front of him. Thick rods of black fire burst against the barrier, destroying it but getting no further. Auum had time to raise
hand in salute towards Rith before stepping in and hammering his left blade into the mouth of one of the shamen. Ulysan decapitated another, swivelled and kicked the third in the side of the head,
knocking him into Auum’s path. Auum glared down at him.

‘How’s that for magic?’ he said.

His blade pierced the shaman’s chest, and the holy man spewed blood from his mouth before his eyes dimmed. Behind them came an inhuman howl, and Auum’s blood chilled. He spun around.
Gilderon whirled his staff in front of him and lashed one tip across the throat of his enemy. Beyond him Ystormun had stopped and was staring straight at them.

Auum replayed the death of Merrat.

‘Ulysan!’

But Ystormun had already turned away and was moving rapidly towards the defenders’ casting positions. Auum saw barriers placed in his way at every step, but he simply beat them aside.

‘Dammit,’ muttered Auum ‘He’s after Takaar. Marack!’

Marack was deep in action on the right flank with the second knot of shamen heading her way.

‘The shamen!’ roared Ulysan. ‘Get the shamen!’

Auum saw her indicate she’d heard with a flick of her head.

‘Gilderon, it’s time.’

The TaiGethen and the Senserii ran together for Ystormun.

Tilman was scared. Leaving Auum’s side was like taking off his armour and lying down before the enemy. He ran as fast as he ever had back to the cluster of six buildings
at the southern edge of the village, noting with dismay how small the open space was between the relentless advance of the enemy and the casting positions.

The remaining ten Julatsan elves were gathered in three groups spread across the buildings. He could see from their positions that they were holding shields in place over the Il-Aryn, as they
would do little good against Ystormun and the shamen.

The Il-Aryn had survived in good numbers, he thought, and were scattered inside the buildings, hidden behind walls and under window openings. They cast barrier after barrier. All of them looked
tired but still they responded to Rith’s calls from the roof of the central building, a stone and thatch barn with a hayloft. Takaar was in the loft by the opening, beneath the block and
tackle, two of his guard elves with him.

Tilman raced inside and hared up the ladder. He moved through the tight bales of hay and looked through the opening, gasping at what he saw. There was Ystormun, destroying buildings and making
space for his warriors to advance from the left. There were Auum and the elves with the masks over their mouths and their bladed staffs moving through the chaos with such speed and precision he was
glad Auum had sent him away. And there on the right, where the fighting was the fiercest, stood most of the surviving TaiGethen, preventing the enemy from overwhelming the casting positions but
being driven back by weight of numbers. Further away but closing fast was a large number of horsemen under a heavy cloud of dust. No more than a mile distant. Xetesk was almost here.

‘My Lord Takaar!’ called Tilman, swallowing his nerves and speaking in elvish as best he could. ‘Auum has asked that I escort you to him for the attack on Ystormun.’

As soon as he said his words Tilman blushed, realising how preposterous and stupidly formal they must have sounded, given the path to Ystormun they would have to take. Takaar said something in
elvish he could not understand and turned to Tilman. His eyes were ablaze with the power he held within himself and yet he smiled in the warmest and most disarming fashion. Tilman felt his nerves
dissipate.

‘I see he has sent me his best guardian to see the job done,’ said Takaar in fluent Balaian, but his tone did not mock. ‘But, forgive me, Auum seems to be going the wrong way
if he wishes to attack the Wytch Lord.’

And Auum was. He was heading to the right after a group of shamen. Tilman thought quickly.

‘Yes. He wants to take the shamen down and isolate Ystormun as the last enemy caster. Otherwise I think the shamen will destroy us here.’

Takaar scanned the battlefield briefly. ‘Good. He thinks clearly. But let’s wait until he turns back towards our target and then we will move.’

Tilman moved to get a better view of the scene. He was uncomfortable with Takaar’s decision. Auum was a long way from them and Ystormun was advancing at the pace of someone who knew he was
invulnerable. Tilman watched Auum, Ulysan and the Senserii attack the shamen and saw Takaar follow their assault and move a barrier into place at the critical moment.

‘Which is why we must wait,’ Takaar said.

Ystormun howled, paused briefly and ran towards them.

Tilman shut out his fear. ‘Please, we should go now.’

Takaar stayed where he was. ‘He has sensed me. He will come to me.’

Tilman took another look and knew they were about to die. Ystormun stared straight at them. He moved his hands apart and brought the heels of his palms together; Tilman was moving before they
struck. He dived at Takaar, catching him around the waist and bearing him down. The two of them rolled once and fell from the hayloft.

Halfway down to the dusty floor and anticipating the pain, Tilman saw the black orb blot out the light of the hayloft opening and destroy the front of the barn in a single blast. Bales of hay
were incinerated, the two Senserii, moving right, were caught in the blast and hurled against the wall, dead before they struck it. The thatch burst into flame and the front wall bowed inwards,
threatening to collapse.

The impact on the ground never came. Takaar had turned them in the air and he landed on his feet, taking the force of the drop for both of them. He grabbed Tilman’s collar and ran them
both out of the back of the barn, others of the Il-Aryn with them. Reaching open air, Takaar paused briefly. He shouted commands to the Il-Aryn and held Tilman at arm’s length.

‘You have the survivor in you,’ he said, ‘but you can’t come with me – he is too powerful. Defend the Il-Aryn, stand with Grafyrre. What’s your
name?’

‘Tilman.’

‘You saved me, Tilman, and you might just have saved us all. Garan would have been proud of you.’

Takaar moved away at startling speed, and Tilman wondered momentarily who Garan was before recalling his history, smiling to himself and running off to find Grafyrre.

One moment the barn was there and Rith was calling castings, the next she and the whole frontage of the building were gone, blasted away by Ystormun. Auum shouted at his
impotence and ran harder for the tall striding figure in his tattered robes, brimful with hideous magic.

An enemy Wesman stood in his path having downed his opponent. Auum feinted left, ran right and lashed a blade up into his lower jaw, barely breaking stride. Ahead Sentaya still stood, his legs
astride a fallen warrior who Auum recognised as one of his sons. The Wesman lord bore the grief on his face and used it to power his axe. He was roaring for his men to stand, and they did wherever
they could. Not one had run in the face of his enemy, but they were going to lose this battle because Auum had entirely misunderstood Ystormun’s power here in his hinterland. Stein had known;
Stein had said, and Auum had ignored him.