James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

Her body turned to blood and burst asunder.

The screams stopped the fighting. Shamen staggered back feeling the force of something ricocheting through their bodies. Wesman warriors stared past the TaiGethen, backing up, fearing something more than the unseen cut of an elven blade.

Grafyrre paused in mid-strike, spinning to look back at Stein and Ystormun. The Wytch Lord was gesturing towards the mages as if shooing children gently from his path. And they were standing there, transfixed and shuddering, unable to move, and their expressions tore at his heart.

Their screams gained in volume, splitting the sky with the purest terror he had ever heard, and one by one their faces reddened, darkened and split open as if smashed from the inside. Grafyrre started to run to their aid but Merrat grabbed his shoulder.

Grafyrre turned, barely taking in the surreal scene of Wesman and TaiGethen standing almost shoulder to shoulder, beguiled by the horror Ystormun had unleashed. Movement among the mages caught his eye, and he saw three get to their feet and flee. But the rest could not break themselves free. Seeing their friends die one by one, they died too, shrieking their terror, consumed by the darkest of magic and taken to a place where even Shorth would fear to tread.

The last of the transfixed mages perished, and a merciful peace replaced the dread cries. Ystormun raised his head, glanced at the three escaping mages, turned and strode towards the village, towards Grafyrre and his TaiGethen. Merrat’s hand tightened on Grafyrre’s shoulder, who swallowed, a chill coursing through his veins as the Wytch Lord’s eyes fell on them.

He had never experienced fear before but he did now. In that moment he understood what it was to be truly helpless in the face of your greatest terror. You could not strike a thing like that. You could not do it harm or defeat it. You could only do one thing.

‘Run.’

For the briefest of moments Auum thought Stein would succeed at the first attempt. The shamen moving to strike at them had stopped and turned as if lacking direction, and the press of magic had eased. Seizing the moment, Auum had led a counter-charge which Sentaya had joined.

Stein’s remaining mages had dumped fire on the shamen they could reach and blasted ice through the Wesman lines. If the numbers he was facing were anything to go by, they had killed a third of the remaining enemy warriors and reduced the shaman numbers by half. Not enough, given the casualties among Sentaya’s people.

Auum sidestepped a downward chop, jabbed his right elbow into the Wesman’s temple and carved his left blade across the back of his neck, half-severing his head. He dragged his blade clear and kicked the body aside. Tilman, gaining in confidence and using Auum’s knife as a second weapon, jabbed his blade into the mouth of his opponent and drove him back and over with a decent kick to the gut.

Auum was weighing up his next foe when the screams rolled across the battlefield. The tenor of the sound cut across the roar of the melee, and the fighting stopped. Auum stepped back and jumped into the air to see the scene further up the shallow rise. He saw blurred shapes streaming towards them, TaiGethen under the shetharyn; and behind them he saw Ystormun marching towards the battle.

Auum landed, pirouetted and smashed a kick into the face of his enemy. He felt cold. Stein was gone, then, and most of his mages with him. Ystormun had destroyed them in the blink of an eye and was moving to finish the job.

‘Hold!’ he yelled, hearing Sentaya pick up the call. ‘Break on my word.’

The shamen had turned and the Wesmen ahead of them returned to the battle with renewed energy. The defensive line was forced back by weight of numbers.

‘What’s happened?’ shouted Tilman over the din.

Auum angled his right blade and deflected away a strike meant for the human’s flank. He thrashed his left blade into the enemy’s neck and reversed it immediately back across the face of his next opponent, who jerked back, avoiding the cut by a hair.

‘Concentrate!’ barked Auum. ‘Ulysan!’

Ulysan snapped a side kick high into the face of his enemy, stepped into the space and rammed a blade into his gut.

‘With you, skipper.’

‘He was waiting for it,’ said Auum. ‘That bastard was waiting for us to go for him.’

‘What now?’

‘Go for the skirmish points. Wait for the signal. Make sure the left flank watches the shamen.’

Auum blocked an axe blade left, reached in and nicked his right blade through the leather jerkin of his enemy and slashed it up across his chest. He stepped back and let the axe crash back down. He stepped on the haft and chopped down into the Wesman’s shoulder, putting him on the ground.

Tilman took a heavy blow on his blade and staggered back. He was off balance and his knife arm was flailing to recover. The axe man circled his weapon ready for the decapitating blow and Auum moved fast right, leaning over hard and swiping his blade in to out, chopping into the axe man’s arm, carving deep. His left flank was exposed. A Wesman stepped in, hacking with his sword. Auum snapped his left leg up and kicked under the warrior’s wrist, holding the blade high. Ulysan jammed a blade under his arm. The Wesman fell back, and the axe man dropped his weapon.

‘Thank you,’ managed Tilman.

‘A TaiGethen is never alone,’ said Auum. ‘Ulysan, shamen approaching. On my go. .’

Ulysan yelled a command to the TaiGethen holding the left flank. Sentaya understood it and carried the word to his people. In moments it had travelled to the elves on the right flank too. Some of Sentaya’s warriors broke away and ran back into the village. The Julatsan elves lined up with them in the oval.

‘Il-Aryn, barriers ready!’ called Auum.

He couldn’t afford the time to look towards the back of the village where Rith and her people were under cover, but the word was carried back. Auum fenced with a powerful swordsman, cutting him across both arms. Tilman was tiring next to him and under pressure again. Ulysan struck an enemy’s arm off at the shoulder, spraying blood across all three of them as the shamen gathered, almost ready.

‘Go!’ called Auum.

Ulysan roared the command to break. Auum turned, grabbed Tilman and, half-carrying the youth, sprinted away to his position behind Sentaya’s house. They ran through a line of archers whose bows were tensed and ready and on through mages waiting to cast.

Auum heard Sentaya order the release and arrows shot away. Moments later six orbs of fire flew over the oncoming enemy to scatter the shamen, catching some and destroying their concentration. Hailstorms flew out across the arc of the charge, ripping leather and furs, flaying the skin from faces and slicing the flesh from fingers.

Sentaya’s men dropped their bows once more and charged back into the fray, a thin line of courageous warriors knowing their chances of survival were minimal. The mages dropped back to cover among the sixty or so buildings making up the village. The enemy broke around to the left and right of Sentaya’s warriors and the TaiGethen streaked back out to get among them.

‘Stay here,’ Auum ordered Tilman.

Auum and Ulysan scaled Sentaya’s stockade and stood to look out beyond the village. The shamen were gathering again, but behind them the TaiGethen from Stein’s failed attempt on Ystormun were approaching. Auum smiled, watching them streak in behind a group of shamen close to the village readying to attack the Il-Aryn and Julatsans behind the right flank.