James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘Can we not impel a wind to speed us up?’ asked Drech. ‘Surely we can find something in the paths of Ix that governs the heavens.’

‘Wind is too chaotic,’ said Takaar. ‘Harnessing it would take more skill than we possess. We’ve barely touched research on the powers that rush above our heads.’

‘Over six hundred years of study, research and practice and we have done no more than scratch the bark of a single tree in the forest of our potential.’

Drech smiled at his own metaphor. Takaar was staring at him, a smile on his face that made Drech nervous.

‘Now there is something we might try. It should work, even at this range because there is nothing to block its path, and no other fuel directly ahead as long as the impression is cast directly outwards. I wonder if any would mind if I tried. I would need your help of course, your strength and your focus; mine alone will not be enough, but together we can do it. I doubt we’d even need any of the others. The poor souls are exhausted anyway. Better they rest in case we need the shield again. The Ixii and Gyalans possess such ability but their stamina is so much less than that of the Ynissul, don’t you think? So we must attempt this. Nothing to lose and so much time to gain. Another day, even. What do you say? Will you help me? Shall we try? Just think how much it would advance our knowledge if I was proved correct, and I very much think I am. Another step taken. Another notch in the tree of understanding.’

Drech was desperately trying to follow what Takaar was saying. The elf was staring at him, eyes teetering on the brink of a sharp descent into the pit of his madness, unless it was tears that threatened.

‘How much of that were you saying directly to me?’ he asked carefully.

Fury shot across Takaar’s expression, but he forced a faint smile and nodded.

‘All of it,’ he said, his stare intensifying. ‘All of it.’

‘And what are we going to attempt?’

Takaar’s smile became conspiratorial. He took Drech’s arm and turned him to follow his gaze to the enemy ship.

‘We’re going to make it sink.’

‘From this distance?’

‘You doubt me?’

Drech thought about that for a moment.

‘No, not at all.’ He gestured ahead. ‘Lead on.’

‘Let yourself see the energies of Ix,’ said Takaar, closing his eyes.

The first joy of the Il-Aryn was the moment the lines of energy that travelled the earth and everything living on it or under it became visible. Until you made sense of it, the scene was nothing more than the heaviest of rainforest deluges travelling in every direction. But slowly every adept could unpick sets of threads from the flood because, as Takaar first preached, every individual plant and animal has a different density of energy. Wood has energy of a deeper density than a liana but not as deep as stone. A panther’s energies are less dense than those of an elf. The energies of the core elements of earth, air, fire and water have signature flows and enormous strength to set them apart from any individual creature or plant.

Takaar’s next breakthrough was to understand that single energy lines almost always represented combinations. For instance, water is the most common element of all and is critical to the make-up of every living thing. Drech had found the idea that he was mostly water absurd, but Takaar had created some demonstrations that persuaded him otherwise.

And there was the third joy: understanding the innate ability to manipulate the energies to produce something different. That had been central to unlocking the potential of the Il-Aryn as a magical force. It had given them a basis for learning and research and the development of a range of castings and constructions. There was no end to it that Drech could see, and that was a thrilling thought.

Drech saw the thundering energy lines that made up the ocean and took time to wonder at the way they clashed and spat at each other but never broke apart and how, despite the apparent chaos, there was an order to the sea that was only truly challenged by the actions of the wind.

Ahead was their target, picked out in ten and more differing pulses of energy density. Water of course was the ship’s greatest constituent, but the complexities that made up wood, and the simple ones representing the sail canvas and indeed the rigging ropes were there for the skilled adept to see.

‘Now then, let’s see how far we can push ourselves,’ said Takaar.

‘What do you plan to do, take out a mast or something?’ joked Drech.

‘I think we can do an awful lot better than that. A shame most of them won’t see this, but we can reprise it another time.’

‘See what?’ asked Drech, excitement edging his mind.

‘Lend me your strength. Keep the flow steady. No spikes, because I’m going to try something a little reckless.’

‘You do surprise me.’

‘Concentrate!’

Drech did as Takaar asked. He placed his hands on Takaar’s shoulders to make the transfer more solid and fed his mind’s energy into Takaar’s body for him to use in bolstering his own. Takaar accepted the gift with a grunt and set to work. Drech watched him and quickly saw what he was attempting.

Every impulse within him bade him pull away and shout at Takaar to try something else, because what he was doing, if it went astray and fed back through the elemental lines, would kill them both instantly. But he resisted. Takaar had never been wrong. He clung to that thought while Takaar teased at the water energies across the divide between the two ships.

Drech was watching elven magic’s greatest practitioner at work, and he never ceased to wonder at the combination of delicacy and strength of will that Takaar brought to bear. It was artistry, and no one could ever hope to better him. Takaar was channelling the unbridled force of elemental water through himself, using himself as a stopper in a bottle, keeping the raw destructive power inside and releasing only that which he required to do his work. No wonder he had need of Drech’s energy.

Drech watched him tease out strand after strand and gather them as if they were threads caught in his fist. And when Drech was sure he had enough, Takaar carried on, never once faltering but whispering words to himself that gave him the confidence to continue.

When at last he was done, Takaar gave a little laugh. ‘So. Let’s see what we have learned today,’ he said.

With his mind he jerked the strands aside. For an instant, ephemeral and terrifying, nothing happened. Then water cascaded from the air around the target’s hull and fell to the sea in a myriad drops. The hull was reduced to dust scattered across the water. Drech caught the merest glimpse of cargo, furnishings and men tumbling towards the water when the ship’s deck, deprived of support, slapped down on the surface.

Takaar roared with laughter.

‘Look what I’ve done! Look!’

Drech stared. For a few moments the hull-less deck slid on, and then the weight of the mast, sails and superstructure defeated it and it tipped onto its side, balanced by the sailcloth and mast timbers before beginning to settle.

‘Yniss preserve us!’ yelled Drech, and his voice bounced across the ocean to their floundering and confused enemies in the water. ‘I see it and only because you did it before my eyes do I believe it.’

Drech turned to call anyone he could to come to the rail and look, only to find himself pressed by Stein and every one of the Il-Aryn, all drawn by the power Takaar had employed. Everyone was charging forward to see for themselves. Well, nearly everyone. Takaar was leaning on Drech’s shoulder, utterly spent.

‘What did you do?’ asked Stein, gesturing weakly towards the remains of the enemy ship.