James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘But this is the time to attack, isn’t it?’ said Auum. ‘At night they’re scattered throughout the camp. Right now they’re gathered in five clear groups. Strong in magic but vulnerable to attack if we can get close enough.’

‘Aye, but there’s the problem,’ said Harild.

‘Hmm,’ said Auum. ‘Where’s Drech?’

‘Back at the college talking to the Il-Aryn and any of the Julatsan elves not on the walls. Why, got an idea?’

Auum looked back at the nearest shaman team plastering the walls with their black fire. There had to be close to fifty of them, closely guarded by two hundred Wesman warriors taunting the defenders, exhorting them to come out and fight.

‘I have, but the timing is going to be critical. I’m going to need every TaiGethen warrior ready and able to use their emergent speed. I’m going to need the Il-Aryn too, and the Julatsan mages and your cavalry.’

‘Auum?’ said Ulysan.

‘We’ll break them one group at a time.’

In the middle of the afternoon they were set. Auum had settled on sixty TaiGethen to go out, leaving twelve full cells plus the wounded inside the city as back-up. A hundred Il-Aryn prepared themselves for a single casting while the remaining twenty-seven would spot for weaknesses. Every elven Julatsan adept had volunteered to fly out, and Auum had let Kerela choose seventy of them. Eighty cavalrymen were mounted and ready.

‘Get this wrong and a lot of us will die,’ said Auum.

‘They know this casting,’ said Drech, still doubting. ‘It’s inconceivable that Ystormun hasn’t informed them about the weakness.’

‘I’m counting on it,’ said Auum. He turned to his TaiGethen, every one painted and ready. Prayers had been spoken and souls commended to Shorth. ‘Thrynn, Faleen, Hassek, Grafyrre, Merrat, Nyann, Merke, Vaart, Marack, Nokhe, Hohan, Oryaal. All of you survived Katura. We are veterans of battle, our brothers and sisters are not. Lead your cells but lead the others also. Die old, not today.

‘Harild, watch for the moment. I trust you and your cavalry.’

Harild nodded but his doubt was there, plain to see. ‘How can you get to them? I don’t understand.’

‘Trust me and look to your role. If you’re late, the blood that flows will be of elves and the men of Julatsa.’

‘We won’t fail them.’

Auum nodded. ‘Drech, ready your Il-Aryn. TaiGethen, form up.’

They were all mustered at the main gates, which still shuddered under the impact of Wytch Lord magic. Auum took a breath to ease the constriction in his chest as Drech and his Il-Aryn drew on the earth’s energies to form their grand casting. Just as on the ship, it came into place quickly, a shimmering barrier of air made solid. Auum could not deny the bitter taste in his mouth at the necessity. He didn’t think he would ever reconcile himself fully to the use of magic.

‘Open the gates!’ called Harild.

Auum could hear cheers from the Wesmen as the gates were hauled open, screeching and protesting against their winches and hinges. Black fire rattled hard against the timbers, the fingers seeking targets within the city, but Drech moved his barrier into place and the sudden quiet from the spell attack was distracting.

‘Forward!’ ordered Auum. ‘Drech, just hold it as long as you can and then get back inside.’

The TaiGethen moved behind the barrier, which Drech and his people held steady while the black fire moved quickly to its apex, picking away at the mana strands that bound it and were its weakness. Auum could hear free Il-Aryn shouting out warnings and he fancied he could feel the casters fighting to strengthen weak spots.

Beyond the barrier Auum could see Wesman warriors forming up to either side of the shamen, unable to see through the barrier but correctly identifying its intent. They began to advance, careful not to cross into their shamen’s line of sight. The shamen were positioned some hundred yards from the gates and dead ahead of them. Auum and the TaiGethen had moved twenty slow yards forward when the warning came from Drech.

‘We’re losing it.’

The barrier was twisting and shimmering violently. Shaman fire ripped at it in more places than Auum could count and holes were appearing through which the fire spat.

‘TaiGethen, be ready.’ Auum moved forward another three paces, seeing Wesmen advancing steadily, warily. ‘Drech, now! Tais, scatter!’

The barrier disappeared, and for a heartbeat the shaman magic was gone too. Auum let the power of Yniss flood him and the earth beneath his feet cushion him, and he ran. The TaiGethen broke apart, sprinting away hard at multiple angles designed to confuse and distract their enemy.

Auum saw and heard it all so clearly. The growing surprise on the faces of the enemy warriors combined with the confusion of the shamen about where to send their fire. There were mages in flight, soaring high above the battlefield, heading out behind the enemy camps. And when the shamen finally began to target the TaiGethen, the sound of hooves was music to Auum’s ears.

Auum seared across the ground, his Tais around him, racing past the Wesmen and ignoring the targets they represented. Black fire laced out in multiple directions, seeking elven bodies. But while the fire travelled at extreme speed, the minds and the hands of the shamen did not.

Auum saw black tendrils swinging towards him. He slithered to a halt and started down a different line. He rolled beneath one tendril, leaped between two others and moved in. Beside him a line of fire caught a TaiGethen in the flank, spinning him out of control to sprawl on the ground.

Auum could see their eyes now, the desperation on their faces and the feverish playing of their foul casting in front of them as they tried to bring down elves they could barely see. But the closer the TaiGethen got, the greater the risk they ran despite their speed. He had to trust to luck and believe that his Tais would make the right moves.

Auum was ten paces from the shamen when the fire caught him. He slid low beneath a blitz of fire tendrils and rolled, his body outstretched. He gathered himself and leaped high, meaning to land in their midst, but the line of black fire caught his left arm, spinning him fast and off balance. It burned through his shoulder and down into his hand. He could smell his seared flesh, and his shirt smouldered and glowed orange where the fire struck.

Still moving under the shetharyn, he crashed into the shamen, tumbling and turning, trying to get his feet beneath him while the burning consumed his arm. Gasping in a breath, Auum came to a halt sprawled on top of a shaman, his eyes looking up into a sky filled with moving bodies. There was shouting and he heard the hiss of blades leaving scabbards.

Black fire crackled all around him. He rolled again, his feet finding the ground, and rose, right fist already lashing out at any body in his vision, his left arm hanging useless by his side. TaiGethen crashed into the shamen in numbers, deflecting their attention from him.

A dagger came at him from his left. He spun and kicked it from the shaman’s hand, leaned in hard and butted him in the forehead. He drew a blade and whirled a complete circle, forcing space to open up. Fighting was going on all around him. He heard the detonation of spells ahead of him and the thundering of hooves behind.

Auum focused as well as he could, weaving his sword in front of him and trying to sense what was at his back. He moved towards a shaman. He was wearing a broad necklace of animal bones; the skin that showed beneath cloak and clothes was heavily tattooed, and there was an expression of pure malice on his weathered flat-featured face.

Auum struck forward, and the shaman danced back. He clapped his hands together and the black fire capered between his palms. He opened them to strike at Auum, who dropped to his haunches and swept out a foot, tripping his enemy and sending him back a couple of paces, his magic gone.