James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘Count the shamen. We need them down fast.’

Ulysan began counting as the TaiGethen struck the shamen, dropping out of the shetharyn. Wesmen turned to their aid but were far too late. Seven went down at a stroke. Auum watched as Merrat, Graf, Merke and Faleen led the group of eleven TaiGethen at a run back towards the village.

Auum sensed Ystormun switch his attention to them. He saw the Wytch Lord raise a hand and jab the heel of his palm out. Auum tracked across to the right and for a moment nothing happened. Then one of the dead or dying shamen moved, his body jerking and convulsing. Soon the others began to do the same, twitching where they lay. And from their bodies rose a wave of dark energy, broad at its base and with grasping fingers at its leading edge.

Auum didn’t even have time to shout the warning they wouldn’t have heard. The wave snatched across the gap of some fifty yards to the escaping TaiGethen and broke over them, grasping at them, dragging them down, enveloping them and reducing their bodies to bloody fragments.

Auum almost fell from the stockade. Only Ulysan’s strong arm kept him upright as the two of them stared at the scene in horror. Four were still running. One paused to turn, hoping to help his fallen brothers and sisters.

‘No,’ whispered Auum. ‘Keep moving. Who’s still standing?’

‘Faleen, Siraaj, Grafyrre and Merke,’ said Ulysan. ‘He took seven for seven.’

‘He killed Merrat just like that. How can we beat such power?’ asked Auum.

Ulysan’s grip tightened on Auum and they jumped down back into cover next to Tilman.

‘We take the last eleven shamen, we isolate Ystormun, and the Il-Aryn and Julatsans must hold him until-’

‘Until when, Ulysan? No one is coming. Not soon enough.’

‘Then we fight to the last man,’ said Tilman, his voice tremulous but his grip on his weapon strong. ‘And elf of course. And we show him no fear.’

Auum managed a fleeting smile. ‘You’ll make a fine warrior.’

Tilman blushed. There was a commotion over to their right. Julatsan spells were falling behind the enemy lines and in front of the Wesmen forming up to join the attack on that flank. An Il-Aryn barrier flashed into place and black fire slammed into it, picking at its edges. It held for a moment before shattering.

‘Come on,’ said Auum.

He led his unique cell across the oval, seeing Sentaya still up and fighting. The Il-Aryn had changed tactics and so far they were working. Small domes shimmered into existence over the two remaining groups of shamen every few paces, forcing them to break the wards before moving on. Auum could see Rith crouched on a rooftop at the back of the village directing their placement. It would only delay the inevitable, but it was smart and bought Sentaya a few precious moments.

Auum ran around the right flank, where Marack was organising the dwindling TaiGethen into five cells.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Auum on the way past.

Marack smashed her blades into a Wesman face and stomach, turning her head briefly as the blood splattered across her features. Her grin was fierce.

‘TaiGethen survivors incoming,’ she said then raised her eyebrows. ‘And the Senserii.’

Auum’s heart leaped. Marack turned back to the fight. Wesmen were running in again, too many to hold off.

‘Break with them,’ said Auum. ‘Get fire on the shamen if you can. Protect the mages.’

‘It’s done,’ said Marack.

Auum sprinted away. He could see a group of elves tearing across the ground, light glinting from the blades tipping their staffs.

‘Where’s Takaar?’ asked Auum when he reached them.

Gilderon pointed past him. ‘Already in the village with the Il-Aryn. He had some ideas.’

‘I think I’ve seen one of them already. We have to get him to Ystormun. Can he destroy him?’

‘He plans to hold him until the Xeteskians arrive.’ Gilderon indicated a smudge of dust away to the east. ‘They can cage him.’

‘Then let’s get him to Ystormun, it’s a reunion that’s long overdue.’

‘Which way?’ asked Gilderon.

‘There. Ystormun’s heading in from the north.’

Auum looked back across the village. Spears of black slapped into Sentaya’s line, scattering burning and blistered warriors across the oval. A black sphere the size of a boulder and shot through with pure white crashed into the first buildings, shattering wood and bursting through stone walls, smearing the bodies of the Communion mages inside across the stone.

Ystormun was at the gates.

The enemy warriors surged forward as their remaining shamen sought targets among the survivors. The defensive line, already compromised by Ystormun’s intervention, was shattered along two thirds of its length, and with enemies pouring in behind them the rest of the line broke too.

Auum glanced back at the mage and Il-Aryn positions, seeing Grafyrre leading his surviving TaiGethen towards them, cutting off the advance of attacking Wesmen. Auum could see the fury in Grafyrre’s face and in every blow he struck. Merrat had been his closest friend for three thousand years, and his death in such a manner would be hard avenged on his enemies.

‘Tilman, get to the mages, find Takaar and bring him back to us. We’re cutting a path to that bastard.’

‘I want to fight with you,’ said Tilman, fearing a slight.

‘And so you shall, but your task is critical. Takaar must join us or Ystormun will kill us all.’

Tilman nodded and hurried away. Auum winked at Ulysan.

‘Gets him out of harm’s way,’ he said. ‘Takaar will see Ystormun long before Tilman finds him.’

Two Senserii had gone with Takaar. Auum led Ulysan and the twelve others back into the fight. The battle line had dissolved into a confusion of skirmishes across the oval and around buildings, paddocks and yards. This reduced the effectiveness of the shamen, forcing them to seek out individual enemies for fear of striking their own. But behind them, directing them, was Ystormun, his eyes everywhere, always seeking his greatest adversaries.

‘I’m coming to you, you bastard,’ muttered Auum.

The TaiGethen and Senserii flowed across the ground, spreading through the fighting. Auum took the centre with Ulysan and Gilderon. Auum watched the enemy tactics evolve. They outnumbered Sentaya and the elves by three to one at least, allowing them to keep one-on-one fights going while moving the shamen steadily to the right, under the guard of good numbers of fresh warriors.

‘They’re heading for our casting positions!’ called Auum. ‘Drive on, but help Sentaya on our way.’

Auum was about fifty yards from the first knot of shamen, which was moving quickly to an open position. He sprinted forward feeling the comforting presence of Ulysan at his left shoulder and the strength of Gilderon to his right. The oval was crowded with fighting and dying. Auum raised his blades above his head and both he and Ulysan stepped up to leap high over the heads of the combatants. Auum brought his legs into a tuck and hacked down with his right blade, feeling it bite into the top of an enemy skull.

He landed, bent his right knee and battered a kick into the chin of a warrior getting the better of one of Sentaya’s men. The flash of a blade on his right was Gilderon. His ikari speed was without equal. The petrified wood, strong as steel, levered between three enemies pressing a single warrior.

The flow of Gilderon’s arms and the balance of his body were perfect. He struck the leftmost in the face with one blade, stabbed the rightmost in the throat with the other, and his momentum carried him forward to butt the third square on the bridge of the nose.

Auum ran on, dropping and cutting his blade through an enemy’s hamstrings, kicking out sideways to crack into knee joint or hip. Ulysan beside him was using his fists and body among the flailing steel, snapping out punches to kidneys, rolling and thudding fists up into groins and shouldering enemies off balance. Everywhere they and the Senserii passed, Sentaya’s men could close and counter-attack.