James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

The second swordsman had been blocked by the axe man. He backed off behind his comrade but the pause was his undoing. Auum spun to his left, jumped high and thudded his right blade into the warrior’s shoulder. The Wesman screamed and dropped his blade.

Auum was in space. Shamen were either side guarded by nervous warriors. The elven column was coming on; Senserii now headed it, their ikari at the ready. The shamen were readying to cast and Auum prayed Drech knew what he was doing as he headed out to the right, his Tai with him. Warriors barred the way to the shamen. Simultaneously, a large group of Wesmen ran at the head of the elven advance. They had no idea what they were running into. Auum almost pitied them.

Shamen stood and cast. Auum threw himself to the ground and rolled. Black fire erupted from fingertips, but the moment it appeared, a modulating green light encased the shamen’s hands, extinguishing the fire. It was momentary but enough to disrupt them.

Auum came back to his feet and charged at his enemies.

Safe behind his Senserii, Takaar felt serene but also fragile and useless.

Look at everyone doing their part while you cower behind your minders.

‘Auum said I may not cast.’

And you listen to him, don’t you? The mighty Auum. See Drech, see what he has your pupils doing? Did you even know that was possible?

‘We can all develop our own castings,’ muttered Takaar, but he stared at Drech, not three paces to his left behind two ranks of Senserii, marching confidently along with a smile on his face.

He should have shared the secret with you.

‘Yes, he should have,’ said Takaar.

That’s the way of the Il-Aryn, is it not?

‘Yes, it is,’ said Takaar and a tear threatened.

Just worth mentioning. Probably just an oversight in all the excitement.

Wesman warriors struck the forward quartet of Senserii, who had spread to give themselves room to use their bladed staffs. Takaar felt a thrill course through him and it eased his anger. The Senserii did not break stride. Gilderon jabbed out with his staff, piercing a Wesman above his heart. He brought the staff back, holding it as he would a quarterstaff in two hands. His movement confused the onrushing warriors. The right end licked out and sliced an enemy face from forehead to chin. The left deflected a heavy downward strike and, faster than the Wesman could follow, the blade was in his eye, turned and ripped clear.

The elves ran on. Takaar could see TaiGethen on their flanks. Horns echoed against the blank dark of the city walls, which loomed large, filling the horizon. Lights burned on the walls, and he could see men and elves on the ramparts and inside the fire-blackened gatehouse.

Ahead, a large force of Wesmen was gathering just outside spell range of the city. Others moved to join them and more ran into the flanks of the column, where they met the steel, fists and feet of the TaiGethen. At their rear, though, Takaar sensed trouble. Shamen were gathering. He could feel the Wytch Lord power there.

Takaar looked to his right. Drech was walking at an even pace, his eyes closed and his mind showing him the way through the streams of energy. Takaar tracked them for a moment, seeing his focus ahead, managing the concentration of his Il-Aryn. He had no idea what was behind. Takaar turned and pushed back through the column.

What are you doing?

‘Disobeying Auum and saving his precious TaiGethen.’

Senserii fell into place next to him, and they moved quickly down the line past the Il-Aryn casting their distraction constructs at the hands of the shamen. At the rear the TaiGethen knew what was coming and had spread out to defend against it. Three cells ranged against a muster of fifty or more warriors.

Takaar stood behind them and let his mind sample the energy lines. Every moment isolated the group further from the main column. Takaar concentrated on what was below his feet. Earth and rock dominated and a clay layer separated the two. This was no time for finesse. The shamen were coming, fifty yards away and closing quickly. The TaiGethen prepared to attack.

‘Faleen, trust me,’ said Takaar. ‘Too many of them.’

Takaar felt for the line of force running through the clay layer. It was sluggish and easy to grab. He let the power of the land flood him, teasing out strand after strand to dance before him.

Takaar spread his hands, palms up. He took the power of the land across his shoulders, forced his arms up over his head, and a wall of mud and clay thirty yards wide and ten high erupted from the ground. Takaar staggered under the weight of it and felt the steadying hand of a Senserii on his back. He shifted his focus, drying the clay and hardening the barrier, moving the water aside and letting it fall on the enemy behind.

He dropped his arms by his side and drew in a shuddering breath.

‘Now I suggest we all run,’ he said.

Auum tore into the flank of the Wesman force, hacking left and right with his blades, fighting power with power. An enemy axe clashed against his right blade, sending sparks into the night, its edge opening a shallow cut on Auum’s cheek. Ulysan ducked a wild swipe and buried a blade in a Wesman gut, slicing it clear and spilling entrails across the ground.

Duele flew in at head height with his blades cocked in front of his face, left leg outstretched to connect with a Wesman chest. He landed behind the warrior line and in front of the shamen readying to cast their fire. Auum drove his shoulder into the warrior in front of him and rammed a blade into the top of his thigh. The tribesman went over, grabbing at Auum and pulling him down too.

Black fire slashed overhead. Il-Aryn castings responded, but their effect was diluted now. Auum heard an elven scream behind him. He rolled away from the Wesman, breaking his grip. Ignoring him, Auum drew a jaqrui and threw at the shamen, seeing it take the fingers from both hands of one on its way to jut from the skull of another.

‘Get the shamen!’ roared Auum.

Duele was already among them. His blades were in their scabbards and his fists and feet snapped out, breaking concentration, buying time for support to arrive. Auum saw Ulysan down a warrior with a sword pommel to the chin. The big TaiGethen moved forward. In front of him shamen moved the focus of their fire. Auum wanted to shout in warning but it would do no good.

Ulysan struck the head from one, but the other, standing two paces behind, was too far away. But the shaman didn’t get the chance to strike his killing blow. The black fire died on his fingertips as he clawed at the ikari jutting from his chest. Auum turned. The Senserii swept over the remains of the Wesman defence, which broke and scattered before them.

Auum nodded his thanks to Gilderon, who did not acknowledge him, stooping to twist his staff before dragging the blade clear.

‘Reform!’ called Auum.

The column came together and hurried on towards the opening gates. Horsemen galloped out followed by archers and swordsmen to form a corridor. The horsemen swept either side of the elven column, clearing Wesmen from their flanks. Spells arced out over their heads, crashing into the ground behind. Walls of fire erupted from the ground alongside them. Black fire fizzed and crackled. Auum saw a horseman taken from his mount, an axe in his back. Another flailed at the fire unpicking his chest.

‘Move! Run!’ shouted Auum. ‘Men are dying for us. Go, go!’

Auum ran down the column, urging them on. The Senserii made the gates, turning to stand and usher the Il-Aryn inside. Auum ran beside Drech.

‘What happened? Your castings stopped working.’

‘They drew on more power,’ said Drech. He looked exhausted. ‘So much to learn.’