James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘This is what we face,’ said Merrat. ‘Dodann’s cell was gone in a taipan’s strike.’

‘Jyrrian?’ asked Grafyrre.

Faleen shook her head. ‘At least it was steel that killed him, not this new evil.’

‘We have no time to grieve,’ said Grafyrre, feeling heartless. ‘Any who can run with me, we’re after Ystormun. Stein’s mages are in the sky.’

Merrat and Oryaal stood. Faleen and Merke joined them.

‘What we have, we’ll bring.’

‘Then let’s run.’

Grafyrre led them out towards Ystormun’s carriage, twelve of them in all to take on whatever Ystormun threw at them. The elven mages were ahead and had been seen as they landed. Wesmen and shamen were advancing on them from the carriage guard some two hundred yards away.

Stein spread them wide apart and all walked forward steadily, preparing. Ystormun stood proud in front of his carriage, barely even looking in their direction. Shamen and Wesmen in their dozens were heading back to join him while the remainder battered at the village defenders.

‘Break around the mages and target the warriors first,’ Grafyrre said. ‘Stein will take the shamen.’

Orbs of fire shot from the hands of Stein’s mages, arcing over the warriors and falling on the carriage, Ystormun and into the midst of the shamen. The carriage roof blew off and the axles broke as the vehicle collapsed into an inferno. Shamen were blown apart, others had dived and rolled away, some caught by flame, others unscathed. Ystormun did not so much as flinch when the fire was diverted harmlessly across the shield he had created for himself. He continued to stare downslope as if searching for something, or someone.

Grafyrre sped past the mages, who were advancing again after casting their spells. He nodded at Stein, who was staring straight at Ystormun, already working on his next and pivotal construct.

Grafyrre drew a jaqrui and hurled it. His Wesman target ducked and it slashed past him and struck a shaman thirty yards behind him square in the forehead. Grafyrre drew his twin blades and launched into the attack, Ferinn and Lynees on his flanks.

Grafyrre swivelled and launched a side kick up to block an axe blade. He moved forward after the kick, sweeping his left blade into the warrior’s midriff. Lynees was airborne, spear-kicking his target, catching him on the jaw. The Wesman’s axe jerked up and back and lodged in the skull of the warrior behind him.

Ferinn spun on her heel and unwound a heavy blow to the shoulder of her target with her right heel, sending him sprawling. Grafyrre pounced on him, slicing his throat open. He rolled under a scything axe sweep and chopped both his blades into the groin of the fighter. Grafyrre stood as the Wesman collapsed. Ferinn dodged a cut to the face, failed to stop a sword slicing across her chest and stepped back, blood seeping through her shirt and jacket.

Grafyrre surged right, battering the hilt of one blade into her attacker’s temple and jamming the other up under his ribcage. Ferinn nodded she could continue. To Grafyrre’s far right, Merke, Siraaj and Dysett were making short work of the flimsy warrior line. Left, Merrat and Faleen were working their depleted cells as a four while Oryaal and Lyrrique swept up the left flank.

Lynees came past Grafyrre at head height, piling into three Wesmen protecting a casting shaman. Grafyrre hurdled the knot of flailing bodies and struck the head from the shaman in a clean blow. He turned. Lynees had killed one and wounded another, and now scrabbled backwards only to have an axe blade bite into his ankle from a downed warrior. Lynees fell forward. Grafyrre slashed a blade into the third man’s back, staying his killing strike.

‘Get yourself away to the other injured,’ said Grafyrre. ‘We’ll find you.’

Grafyrre turned to find his next target. He saw Merrat kill two with simultaneous strikes to the left and right then duck for Artuune to hurl a jaqrui into the face of a shaman. This fight was done, and with the fall of the last shaman body, Ystormun turned.

Grafyrre felt those ancient eyes cross his body and he shivered.

‘Tais, with me!’ he called. ‘Stein, it has to be now!’

Grafyrre ran hard straight past the Wytch Lord to the slope where the returning Wesmen and shamen were almost on them. He longed to strike the bastard but knew he was invulnerable to steel.

‘Spread wide,’ called Merrat as he strode up to Grafyrre’s shoulder. ‘If only Katyett was here. She’d have loved this.’

‘Old times and all times, we could do with her strength,’ said Grafyrre.

He looked down the slope and breathed hard. He didn’t fear the fifty and more warriors who came at them, it was the shamen moving in their wake who were worrying. Their fate was in Stein’s hands. The first shaman prepared his black fire.

‘Speed!’ called Grafyrre.

‘Focus on the casting and only on the casting,’ said Stein.

His mages were spreading to encircle Ystormun. The Wytch Lord had finally taken notice of them and would soon be able to feel what they were bringing to bear on him. Ystormun’s filthy gaze swept across them, within it the contempt of centuries and the memory of humiliation.

Stein.

Stein jolted and almost lost his construct.

‘Push out,’ said Stein to his mages. ‘He’s going to resist. Be ready.’

I can trace your line through the centuries to your first betrayal.

Stein’s heart was pounding in his chest. He shook his head to dislodge the voice. He linked his construct to those of his mages and could see the spiked net they had created just beyond the bounds of Ystormun’s subconscious. They were ready, but then so would he be.

You cannot hurt me, not here. Let it go. I seek others today.

They are my brothers , said Stein to himself and he felt a chill inside his skull. I will not let you harm them .

Brothers. Is that what they told you? You have no power here, Stein.

Then do your worst and prove it.

‘Advance,’ ordered Stein. ‘Press and then hold. Do not let him in, do not look at him — he will be seeking your soul.’

The elven mages tightened their arc and sought to encircle Ystormun. Stein could feel his eyes tracking across them, seeking weakness he could exploit. Stein felt as if he was toying with them and anxiety flooded him briefly before he quashed it, knowing it was what Ystormun desired.

‘Strike,’ said Stein, his word carrying across the construct and into the mind of each mage. ‘Strike hard.’

They pushed out and forward. The construct came into contact with Ystormun’s aura, sick and malevolent. Stein crushed his eyes closed and heaved with his mind. Spikes pierced the aura and darkness flooded out.

That is far enough.

Stein pushed again. His mages were with him, all of them using every mote of energy they possessed. But they could go no further, as if cement had hardened across the surface of their net, holding it secure and immovable.

Now it is my turn.

Stein’s eyes snapped open. Ystormun was staring at him.

‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘No one stands in my way.’

Sickness flooded into the construct and Stein dropped back into the mana spectrum to see the net tangled with a mass of grasping black tendrils. Each found purchase, locked on tight and hardened. The darkest of night pulsed within Ystormun’s aura and flashed towards them.

‘Out!’ screamed Stein.

He dropped the construct, risking dire psychological damage, and turned, barrelling into the mage next to him, clawing at a third and reaching for a fourth. But he only had moments, and as his hand reached out to the serene figure her expression turned to dread. She saw what was coming.