James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘You saved many.’

‘And lost some.’

‘It was unavoidable,’ said Auum.

He gripped Drech’s shoulder and rushed him through the guard and into the city before letting him go. Beyond the gates the night was ablaze. Horsemen thundered back into the city. Volleys of arrows and more spells covered their retreat. The last of the elves ran in, Auum seeing one of his TaiGethen in the arms of another, bleeding from a wound to the head. Takaar was carried in on the back of one of his Senserii.

Ulysan limped up to Auum, blood coming from a wound in his calf. Auum sheathed his blades.

‘That could have been worse,’ said Ulysan.

‘What happened to you?’

‘Stray arrow,’ said Ulysan. ‘Not deep.’

‘Get it seen to.’

Auum paused and drew breath. Now they were inside, the elves had stopped, as much cowed by the alien atmosphere of the city as they were fatigued by the run. Many were sitting by the side of the cobbled street, while people were emerging from tall houses to see who had come to their aid. Horsemen milled about, and from further up the street of tight-packed buildings he heard shouting.

Auum pushed through the crowd and a smile broke on his face.

‘I see you made it,’ he said.

Stein shook his hand. ‘Did you like the welcome committee?’

‘Just what we needed.’

‘Bring your people to the college. We can billet them all there, get the wounded seen to and work out what’s next. This isn’t going to go unchallenged by the Wytch Lords.’

They had reached the city with fewer casualties than Auum feared. Three Il-Aryn were dead, another five were wounded but responding. One TaiGethen had fallen and another three had severe wounds. Auum did not expect them to survive the night despite the ministrations of Julatsa’s keenest mages.

Grafyrre had arrived with his full complement of raiders about two hours later. They’d crawled their way to the walls and scaled them, surprising a defender or two before heading for the college and some hard-earned rest.

The college itself was dominated by its tower, the building that housed the growing Heart of Julatsa, the very centre of Julatsan magic. Auum felt burdened by the atmosphere within the building and knew it to be the pressure of the magical focus created by the Heart.

After a bath and the application of balms to ease a few muscle aches and to soothe the cut on his face, Auum had been led to a large circular chamber high up in the tower itself. From there he could see the city from the balcony that encircled the chamber. It was about half the size of Ysundeneth and felt cramped. Everything was forced within the walls, buildings rose three or four storeys high and the hubbub of noise was ceaseless.

The walls and guard towers were manned by swordsmen, archers and mages, a powerful defence against the attacking Wesmen, and yet within the atmosphere was anxious. Presumably food supplies would be getting short before too long, and there was always the fear of that which you could hear but not see.

The arrival of the elves had caused quite a stir and had, he was told, lifted the spirits of the entire city. The apparent ease with which they had broken through the enemy ranks had encouraged the populace to believe that victory was possible. But Auum did not like the role in which he and his small band of raiders were being cast. They were not here as saviours of the human race.

That thought remained with him when he was invited to sit at a long oval table with elves and men, most dressed in lavish robes that presumably signified some sort of status within the college and city. There were senior soldiers present too. Auum sat flanked by Stein and Drech on one side, Takaar on the other. Ulysan was on a chair behind him and Gilderon sat behind Takaar.

Twenty people in all were at the meeting, and the round of introductions made Auum’s head spin. High mage, mayor, elder council, general of the militia, general of the college army. . and an Il-Aryn iad called Kerela who had achieved high office. She was someone Auum needed to speak to in private. The meeting took place in a mixture of elvish and human, with translators at the ears of any struggling to understand one or the other.

‘First of all my apologies for keeping you from your beds or for dragging you from them,’ said the High Mage, Sipharec. He was a middle-aged man, clean-shaven, tall and slender to the point of being gaunt. His eyes were a powerful bright blue but there was something behind them, a sadness. ‘But what we have to discuss cannot wait until dawn when the Wesmen resume their efforts to knock down our walls. Walls which we have defended for more than ten days without help from any on the outside, until now. Auum, Drech, Takaar and all your people, welcome, and thank you for giving us fresh hope. Stein, I doubted you could succeed. I am sorry.’

Stein shrugged. ‘It was without doubt a fool’s errand, but this fool is a lucky one.’

‘Auum, I know you have questions,’ said Sipharec in very good elvish. ‘Perhaps you can start the debate.’

Auum inclined his head. ‘My questions are simple enough, but there is a great deal I don’t understand and I will not commit my people to a conflict I do not understand. We’re here; we have secured our mages, and I am content with that. We share a common enemy and I am content with that too. But I am concerned and confused by the alliance you have with the other colleges and I am most concerned by what will happen in this country when the Wytch Lords are defeated.’

Sipharec frowned. ‘I’m not sure I understand your concern. With the Wytch Lords gone, we’ll have peace here and will begin to grow again as colleges. Julatsa will seek to strengthen its bonds with the elves and build a deterrent against any other Wesman incursion. It’s a dream as we sit here, but not something that should give rise to concerns, is it?’

‘I’ll make it plainer,’ said Auum. ‘The Wytch Lords are invading because they want to secure Dawnthief, the spell that seals the stupidity of human magical research for ever. What happens to that spell when the Wytch Lords are defeated?’

Sipharec’s glare at Stein was sharp and poisonous.

‘The search will continue,’ said the High Mage evenly. ‘The spell cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.’

Auum sighed and felt the weight of magic rest more heavily on his soul than ever.

‘Those who seek to own this spell are, by dint of their desire, the wrong hands,’ said Auum. ‘Tell me, what would you do with it, should you find it?’

Sipharec smiled indulgently. ‘Keep it away from those who would research it further and who would use it as a rod of power.’

‘And these people you fear, they represent, who is it. . Xetesk and Dordover? They will fight you for it. You do see that? The end of one war will be the prelude to another as you stab each other in the back for something no one should own. And ownership risks us all. The innocent of Calaius and Balaia will live only at the whim of a group of mages. No one who owns this spell could resist its charms for ever. No elf can tolerate this.’

Auum stared squarely at Kerela. The iad met his gaze but could not hold it.

‘Something to say, Kerela?’

‘You misunderstand the motives of this college,’ she said.

‘Do I? I know you are the only college under siege and hence, to my mind, the college the Wytch Lords feel poses them the most risk. Why is that?’