James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

Without Communion there was no information from inside the city, but reports from Auum’s scouts painted a bleak picture. Around five thousand Wesmen backed by shamen had encircled Julatsa. Stein’s face was grey with worry and his appetite for food at the midday break was much diminished. Auum knew just how he felt.

‘Vaart has noted cracks in the walls either side of the south-facing gates, and that’s where the majority of the pressure is being exerted. Some damage is being done by the defenders but the black fire has good range,’ said Ulysan.

‘How long before the walls fall?’ asked Auum.

Stein shook his head. ‘We’ll have invested magical strength in the walls and gates, but it only takes one casting to fail and the enemy to realise it. I had no idea there were so many of them.’

‘Where are your allies?’ asked Faleen. ‘I thought your colleges were united against this enemy?’

‘The greater part of our armies is engaged at Understone Pass, and of course every college must maintain enough defence for itself.’

Auum frowned. ‘What and where is Understone Pass?’

‘It’s a tunnel through the Blackthorne Mountains about four days south of here.’

Auum sighed. ‘I’ve heard it all now. Not only did one of your idiot mages create an apocalypse then tell your enemies about it, you’ve also built a tunnel through your greatest barrier.’

‘It was supposed to help trade, engender trust and eventually bring peace,’ said Stein.

‘It is stupid in so many ways that I cannot begin to start,’ said Auum. ‘You built a tunnel to your enemy’s lands. Rather than force them to sail or come over the mountains, which looks some task, you thought you’d give them a nice easy route. Dear Yniss as my witness, how did you ever enslave Calaius?’

‘Forgive me, Auum, but this is a distraction right now,’ said Faleen. ‘You’re saying, Stein, that we can expect no help from your allies.’

‘The signs weren’t promising before the siege was laid.’

‘And only your city is under siege. Why?’ asked Grafyrre.

Stein blew out his cheeks. ‘The Wesmen want to destroy us one college at a time. They threaten the pass with enough force to ensure they cannot be ignored and, meanwhile, manage to bring thousands to my walls.’

‘Solid tactic,’ said Merrat.

‘Until we showed up,’ said Ulysan.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Stein again.

‘Where’s Drech?’ asked Auum. ‘Ah, there you are. Been listening? Good. We need to make some big holes in the shaman strength. If we can that’ll relieve the pressure on the walls and leave us free to get inside once we knock a path through the Wesman lines. What did you learn about the Wytch Lord magic? Can you stop it?’

‘We’ve only had brief contact with it, but I can tell you it’s sourced from somewhere beyond anything the Il-Aryn will ever use.’

‘It’s an inter-dimensional magic,’ said Stein. ‘Very hard to counteract.’

‘Tak-’

‘Don’t mention his name,’ said Auum. ‘He’s to have nothing to do with this.’

Drech looked over to where Takaar was speaking to many of the Il-Aryn. The adoration in their eyes made Auum shudder.

‘He has the most experience,’ said Drech.

‘Whatever is cast has to stop them and get my TaiGethen to the Wesmen. I need someone I can trust. That’s you and not him.’

Drech nodded. ‘There is one thing we can do.’

‘Good,’ said Auum. ‘Go and work on it. Stein, can the Wesmen see in the dark?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

Auum chuckled. ‘You don’t help yourselves, do you?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Stein.

‘What need have we of trees when we have the night?’

The night was lit up by a ring of fires. The Wesmen camped where they dropped, about three hundred yards from the walls. Tribal standards were planted in the ground. Warriors ate, drank, slept and sparred. They had outer pickets, but each of these was lit by a fire too and Auum could only shake his head at the idiocy of it all. Not one of them would have any eyes for the night.

Auum had split his force into two. The smaller part, made up entirely of TaiGethen under the direction of Grafyrre, he had sent to the main gates, where they were to create a diversion to draw away as many as they could. Auum led the other force, which was to take the rear gates and hold the corridor open until Grafyrre’s twenty-one made it back.

Before they launched the attack, Auum visited Takaar and the Senserii.

‘Gilderon, speak with me.’

Gilderon looked to Takaar, who waved a hand impatiently. Gilderon broke from the Senserii and stalked to Auum, his ikari in his hands.

‘What do you want?’

Auum spread his hands. ‘You have no love for me yet I respect your loyalty as I do your prowess as a fighter. I need to ask a favour. I know you will be protecting Takaar when we move, but I also need you to protect Drech. My TaiGethen will keep the Wesmen from you, the Il-Aryn should stifle the shamen but there are always risks and we cannot afford to lose him. Will you help?’

Gilderon inclined his head.

‘Thank you.’

‘It is not for you.’

‘Nevertheless, let’s not be enemies. We were once good friends.’

‘In another life, Auum. We both chose our paths and there is a chasm between them. I will do as you ask only because it is right for Takaar.’

Auum returned to the TaiGethen and relayed his intentions to Drech and Stein.

‘What now?’ asked Stein.

‘Now we wait. Just a little bit.’

Grafyrre led his seven cells towards the Wesman camp sprawling in front of Julatsa’s main gates. The gates themselves seemed remarkably undamaged given the amount of power the shamen must have brought to bear on them, but the walls to either side were looking ragged and were sagging.

‘Don’t lose your Tais and don’t lose your heads. When the shamen start to gather themselves, get out. Don’t leave anyone behind. Tais, we fight.’

The seven cells split from each other as they approached the outer pickets. Grafyrre had identified sets of fires for each one. He’d taken the most central route for himself, his cell of Ferinn and Lynees, two newly emerged TaiGethen, moving silently with him. Three Wesmen stood at the picket talking among themselves. Their fire was bright and cast a pool of light beyond which they would be able to see nothing at all.

‘Go,’ said Grafyrre.

He exploded from his crouched position, driving in as hard as he could. He came across the fire feet first and found his target’s head with both, driving him straight back. Knife in hand, Grafyrre dropped and slit his victim’s throat. He paused while his Tais completed their kills and stared ahead. They had not been seen.

Grafyrre moved in low, his chin brushing the top of the few stems of grass that had eluded the boots of the Wesmen, and headed for his next target fire. It was busy. Fourteen Wesmen lounged about it, others were asleep further away. Shamen were among them, one of them telling a story judging by the gestures he was making.

Grafyrre dropped prone and crawled over the rough ground towards a sleeping enemy. The snoring Wesman stank of spirit liquor. Grafyrre crawled up to his body, peering over his stomach at the fire. A few of the warriors had short weapons belted on, but most of their heavier blades and axes were gathered in one stand a few feet to the left of the campfire.

Grafyrre drilled a knife into the sleeper’s temple, who jerked, coughed and was still. He looked to his Tai and nodded. Both signalled that they were ready. Grafyrre re-sheathed his dagger and stood, drawing his twin blades as he did. Ferinn and Lynees stood to either side of him, three painted ghosts rising from the grass.