James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘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.’