James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

‘Graf! Casting now.’

Grafyrre’s heart missed a beat. He looked down the valley side to the floor less than twenty paces away.

‘Get to cover!’

The air chilled. A wind began to howl. Grafyrre saw grass, leaf litter and undergrowth blacken across a wide front that fled upslope.

‘Oh no. Up, Allyne, up!’

Grafyrre leapt straight up. His hands grasped the branches of a tree and he swung his legs, linking them over a higher branch. He let go with his hands and pivoted his body, arching his back and grasping the branch about which his legs were locked. The gale of ice howled below him. Grafyrre closed his eyes but there was no stopping his ears from hearing the screams.

So quickly the weak are beguiled by the promises of Calen and Jysune. I have lost so many Cloaks I can barely police the city. Calen was here earlier, recommending the Al-Arynaar become a single thread force. I must stop their march but I do not know how.

The Diaries of Pelyn, Governor of Katura

Auum and his cell flowed down the valley side with the human reaction to the carnage already filtering up into the canopy. They had left the Apposans behind and Auum was glad of it. He wanted them to come upon an enemy already on the brink of rout.

Elyss was running to his left. Auum knew he shouldn’t check her progress but he couldn’t help himself. Her feet seemed as sure as ever, her body as fluid and balanced. Auum checked her path, seeing roots, low branches and trailing vines. He opened his mouth to warn her and ducked reflexively. He felt the brush of leaves by his right ear followed by Ulysan’s voice.

‘The TaiGethen who ignores his own path will fall to the merest risk.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘You did.’

Auum knew he was right. He refocused, tuning his eyes to his path and his ears to the situation beyond the cover of the trees and undergrowth. They were forty yards from the base of the Scar. Then he heard many human voices repeating the same words and had the time to wonder why that worried him so much.

He glanced across to Ulysan to check the big TaiGethen’s reaction and in the same instant a blistering, blinding white light filled the valley. Auum clapped his hands to his eyes and slid, feet first, on to his front, aiming to protect his head. Elyss cried out, Ulysan was silent and behind him the cries and calls for help told of the Apposans descending into panic. The only voice he could hear was that of Boltha, shouting for calm and for them to stop.

Auum took his hands from his face and opened his eyes wide. The afterglow of the spell haunted his vision. The outlines of trees, no more than pale shadows, swam against whiteness fading to a bright yellow and then to a burning orange. He blinked rapidly, trying to force his vision back to something approximating true sight. Down on the valley floor, the effect must have been ten times worse.

He could hear Ulysan moving towards him and the clarity of the sound alerted him to the silence within the Scar in the wake of the light.

‘We’re blind,’ Ulysan whispered. ‘We’re all blinded.’

The silence was fleeting. Human voices filtered up the valley sides. Again it was a few words, repeated along the column. Two sets of words, one following the other. Auum shivered; more spells.

Auum’s vision was returning but it was poor, the way he assumed a human’s was. He couldn’t penetrate the shadows and the edge of every leaf seemed thick and furred. He pushed himself to his feet, his unease growing. The air inside the Scar stilled again, and then it roared. Auum knew that sound.

‘Oh no.’

He began to run, fending off the shadows of branches as best he could and holding an arm in front of him to ward off the trunks of trees still indistinct against the glamour that tricked his eyes. He mimicked the alarm call of the howler monkey, an urgent echoing hoot designed to penetrate the densest of forest growth.

Ulysan tried to grab his shoulder to slow him but he threw it off, continuing his half-blind charge towards the enemy. His mind played out the massacre the gales of ice would cause. Helpless elves would be frozen in moments. The forest would be blackened and ruined, countless creatures slaughtered in hives, nests and burrows. The ambush would be left fractured, leaderless and confused. Any who survived the blasts would be prey to the swords of man.

‘Auum, slow dow-’

Ulysan gasped, his shoulder thumping into a tree. His momentum spun him into Auum and the two elves tumbled to the ground. Ulysan finished atop Auum and held out his hands for calm.

‘You can’t kill what you can’t see,’ said Ulysan, rolling away and holding out a hand for Auum to grab. Both stood. ‘You have to trust your cell leaders. They’ll do the right thing. Merrat, Grafyrre, Faleen… they are great TaiGethen. Take a breath.’

Elyss trotted over to them, squinting as she came. Auum blinked. His vision was clearing faster now but the detail of the forest was still denied him.

‘All those who followed the log runs will be too close to the enemy,’ he said. ‘Somehow we have to force them on to the defensive.’

The roar of the ice spells had died away. Auum couldn’t hear fighting from anywhere along the column. The elves had been silenced. Orders flashed up and down the enemy army. The unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn and readied echoed across the Scar.

‘We’re out of time,’ said Auum. ‘Call the retreat to the outer rally points. We’ve got to get the survivors to safety.’

Jeral watched the spells surge away. They blistered foliage, forged spectacular ice sculptures where they splashed against the boles of trees and tore through the undergrowth, seeking out the Sharps where they lay helpless and blind. This was the critical blow and it had to be driven home.

‘Swords! Two!’ he bellowed. He waited for the call to return along the column. ‘Away. Chase them down.’

Jeral watched his warriors moving away up the slopes of the valley to either side. In close groups of five, they hacked away standing foliage, clearing their path. Elves broke from cover, TaiGethen by their speed and camouflage paint. Jeral smiled. They weren’t fighting, they were running. Animal calls were bouncing around the forest. There was movement everywhere, and all of it was heading away from the valley floor. The battle was won.

Jeral watched his soldiers chase the Sharps upslope. His view had been cleared by the passage of a hundred logs and the sport was deeply satisfying. The warriors around him were cheering, some were laughing. Hynd put a congratulatory hand on his shoulder.

The TaiGethen were moving erratically, their vision clearly still imperfect. They were slow by their standards, slipping on the mud as they climbed. Jeral’s warriors were gaining slowly, each group with three ahead of the other two and all of them cheered on by those watching from the column.

Passing between two trees, three TaiGethen increased their pace and leapt high, turning rolls in the air before landing and hurrying on. Jeral barely had time to wonder why before three leading soldiers disappeared from view, their cries of alarm cut off with mortal finality. The two behind them slowed and passed to either side of the pair of trees. Neither of them passed any further. Panels of wood swung round horizontally, slapping into his men’s chests and driving spikes clear through their bodies.

Cheers died in throats, laughs dried on lips. Jeral heard other screams from behind him. For the second time today he found himself staring. The TaiGethen stopped and turned, crouching to see their foe’s reactions. They chittered animal and bird calls to each other before disappearing from view. Above Jeral the forest was coming back to life.