James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

Forty yards.

‘Really?’ Stein almost lost the shape of his spell. ‘That’s very good. Very good indeed.’

Wytch Lord magic spat across the shortening gap from both sides as the elven ship moved smoothly between the enemy vessels, turning a few degrees into the wind. Black lines traced across the barrier, which rippled like a millpond pierced by a stone. Stein clung to his casting while the energies thrummed and fought all around him. On the deck adepts grunted and shivered. Drech urged them to strength.

Twenty yards. The enemy ship in Stein’s vision was huge. He felt as if walls were closing on them from both sides and he could hear the shouts and taunts of Wesmen as if they were surrounded. The TaiGethen tensed. Stein looked beyond the stern of the onrushing Wesman ship. The flank of the central vessel, the ship the elves could not board on their first pass, was just in range. Stein cast, seeing his orb fly in an arc towards his chosen enemy. The skipper of the elven ship turned a few more points north, leaving them broadside on to the enemy on both sides and almost in irons.

The two enemy vessels moved past them, one trailing the other by about half a length. Shaman magic tore at the shield, and the Il-Aryn fought to keep their casting sound. From the rails left and right the Wesmen howled promises of death. The TaiGethen leaped to oblige them.

Auum had seen Gyaam’s Blessing turn east towards them and sail across the bows of the front rank of enemy vessels. Just astern of them, Spirit mirrored the move, ploughing west across the light swell and triggering a belated reaction from the enemy.

Esteren sailed astern and out of range of the front rank before pointing up a few degrees into the wind to come between their target vessels. They closed fast. The sounds of the ocean, gulls and sails were joined by the roars of the Wesmen crowding the rails of their ships. The Il-Aryn’s casting snapped into place. A weight settled on Auum’s shoulders and he breathed deeply to ease it.

Wytch Lord black fire crashed into the barrier, spitting and fizzing, seeking a weakness to exploit. The barrier bowed and rippled, and the Il-Aryn gritted their teeth. The ships closed; walls of timber bristling with sharpened steel in the hands of powerful warriors.

‘Know your landing!’ called Auum. ‘Steel is death! Fight hard, move fast. Remember: over there we have no defence against the black fire.’

‘Ready, Auum!’ called Esteren. ‘Coming up five more points.’

The ship turned. Sails began to luff, spilling wind as Esteren moved as close to the wind as he dared. The gaps between the three vessels closed dramatically but were still too far for any human to jump. Not so a TaiGethen. The Soul of Yniss lost way.

‘Now!’ yelled Esteren. ‘I can’t hold her here.’

‘Tais, with me.’

Auum led — surging up from a crouch, bouncing on the rail and launching himself towards the enemy ship. He locked on to his landing point on the upper hull just below the main deck. As he arrowed his body and flew in head first, feeling arrows whip by, a bright yellow light surged across the sky ahead of him. It was an orb of flame, human magic, and it detonated against the hull of the central enemy ship. Stein was casting.

‘Bless you, my friend,’ said Auum.

He landed, gripped instantly and propelled himself up using all the power his arms could muster. He rose across the eye line of the Wesman warriors, thumped his feet down on the rail and took off again instantly, turning a half twist in the air, drawing his twin swords and landing on the deck.

TaiGethen thudded down in a line on either side of him on the crowded deck, Ulysan was immediately to his right and Ollem, his third, was on his left. Auum didn’t wait for the Wesmen to turn. He hacked a blade into the neck of one warrior and drove his second into the lower back of another just below the laces that secured his leather chest plate.

Wesman bodies fell along the starboard rail. Others plunged screaming into the sea. The survivors were turning to face them now. Others flooded across the deck from other parts of the ship.

‘Get among them,’ called Auum. ‘Ulysan, Ollem, with me. Head aft.’

Without clear targets at close quarters, the shamen concentrated their fire on the Soul of Yniss as she moved away at her best speed to the north, aiming to come about once she’d reached clear water. Auum glanced over at the shield, opaque and alien-looking. It wasn’t as solid as before. Most of the enemy fire was concentrated on the top of the shield where it closed over the mainmast, and ruptures appeared sporadically. They closed quickly but were deflating the defence little by little.

Wesman shouts, orders and abuse rolled all around them. Weapons clashed, jaqruis mourned across short spaces and blood sprayed over sailcloth. Auum ran past a cell forming up to take on a large band of Wesmen closing from both sides of the mainmast.

‘Duele, head forward and get to the shamen. They’re doing too much damage to the Il-Aryn barrier.’

‘Yes, my Arch.’

Duele surged into the attack, swaying left to evade a powerful thrust to his head and jabbing his right-hand blade into the neck of his attacker, his left into the midriff of a second. Auum ran on, his Tai at his shoulders. The space was closing ahead of them.

‘He’s good, that Duele,’ said Ulysan.

‘One day he’ll run with us,’ said Auum. ‘When he matures. Give it a century or two. Let’s get to it.’

The Tai ahead was under pressure from quick and strong attackers. Auum saw the elf barely block an overhead blow and stumble back. The Wesman went in for the kill, but a blade from the right caught him in the side and he fell into his comrades, blood sluicing from the wound.

‘Hassek, overhead in three,’ called Auum. ‘Tai with me.’

Auum ran on two paces, planted his right foot and jumped, turning a roll over Hassek’s Tai and the attacking Wesmen. The moment his feet touched the deck he spun and slashed both his blades into the back of the nearest enemy, then ran on into a moment’s clear space.

Crewmen were running from them back towards the wheel deck. At the helm the captain was barking orders and warnings. Other crewmen were headed up into the rigging.

‘Beware above,’ said Auum.

‘Got it,’ said Ulysan.

‘Ollem, stay right. Watch the shamen, they have fast hands.’

‘Yes, my Arch.’

Auum saw the Wesmen form a line at the head of the wheel deck, crowding the two short flights of steps. Eight of them protected their shamen, whose fire was still playing over the Soul ’s barrier, tearing greater and greater holes in its fabric. Auum sheathed his left blade and pulled a jaqrui from its pouch, throwing it backhand.

The blade whispered away and up, taking a slight deflection off the deck rail and whipping past its target’s defence. It chopped into the base of his nose, slicing deep into the upper jawbone. The Wesman shrieked, his head snapping back, his sword dropping from his hands and his body toppling.

Ulysan took the left stairs and Ollem the right. Auum ran up the stair rail next to his fledgling Tai, sword in both hands. The Wesmen didn’t flinch. Auum beat back a swipe to his head and snapped a kick into the face of his attacker before bringing his sword down at an angle to carve deep into his neck.

Next to him Ollem batted away two strikes, ducked a third and jabbed up into the groin of his nearest foe. Auum leaped from the rail, drawing his second blade again. The Wesmen had backed up a pace and closed ranks. Auum could see the shamen behind them and, beyond them, the wheel and the skipper.