James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

They couldn’t defeat this army. It was going to be a slaughter.

‘You’re not just going to stand there all day, are you?’

Nerille flinched and came back to herself. She looked round. Pelyn was at the gatehouse door.

‘No, I-’

‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘And then get to safety. There’s not much time.’

Nerille nodded, sucked in a deep breath and hurried along the rampart, asking after Jio every pace of the way. The rampart was narrow and crowded and her progress was slow. Ladders leaning against it every thirty paces or so merely added to the hazards she faced. She had to pick her way past swords and stands of arrows, apologising with every breath.

Suddenly, there he was. Standing tall, playing the part of a mighty TaiGethen, showing no fear to the enemy below. On the field below them, an order brought the army to a halt.

‘Jio!’

Her voice carried loud in the sudden silence. Dozens of heads turned to her and Jio’s jaw dropped in surprise.

‘Gyal’s breath, Mother, what are you doing here?’ he hissed, blushing scarlet and glancing at the smiles already cracking the faces of his friends despite the horror about to be unleashed on them.

‘Leave the house without cleaning your teeth, did you, Jio?’ said one.

‘Or perhaps Mummy is bringing you some dry clothes,’ said another.

‘I know. You left your lunch on the kitchen table, didn’t you?’

Raucous laughter, over-loud with nerves, rattled along the parapet.

Nerille ignored them and made her way to him and tried to hug him but he held her away.

‘Jio-’

‘The TaiGethen don’t hug their mothers before battle.’

Nerille felt a great rush of pride for him. She stroked his cheek.

‘Of course not, I’m sorry.’ She pulled his pendant from her pocket. ‘I brought you this. I didn’t want you to miss it.’

Jio’s hand went to the nape of his neck and his eyes widened.

‘Dear Yniss preserve me, I forgot it.’ Nerille placed it around his neck and gripped his hands. Jio’s smile lit up both their faces. ‘Thank you. Now I know I’ll live to see this battle won.’

‘Of course you will,’ she said.

‘Casting!’

The warning ran back and forth along the wall. Nerille looked out. The soldiers had all dropped to one knee. The mages were standing. Nerille felt a strange feeling come over her, like a wind that blew straight through her, warming her. The mages cast and Jio dragged her down, covering her with his body as they cowered behind the wall, praying it would hold.

The sound of castings froze her to her very core. A roaring and whistling sound, wrapped in endless rolls of thunder. The heat grew quickly and bright blue light cast them into a deep shadow behind the wall. The castings slammed into the gatehouse, the walls, and flew high overhead to land in the city.

Ten paces away, the top of the wall was blasted to rubble. Fire burst through, shattering the rampart and engulfing helpless defenders. Burning elves were hurled onto the street, thrashing and screaming as they fell. The wall shuddered under impact after impact and an ice casting landed right below them. She heard metal grind and protest and rivets pop. She heard stone blasted to dust.

Fire orbs detonated on the gatehouse roof. One flew straight through the opening where Pelyn had been standing and blasted through the open back of the gatehouse to splash against the main street. A second burst against the edge of the gatehouse wall, which held but the fire sprayed inside. She heard shrieks and saw elves slapping at themselves and diving off the platform, desperate to escape the flames that ate at their clothes and flesh.

Jio clung to her, all pretence at being TaiGethen gone. They watched fire orbs falling on their city. Harine the baker’s house blew apart under a direct hit. An orb scorched across the rooftops of five houses in a tight knot in the Ixii ghetto, setting all to flame. A third dropped onto the Second Courthouse’s balcony, splintering it and rolling inside, where the flames blew shutters open and scattered papers into the air to burn to ash in a heartbeat.

There was a moment’s pause. Jio tried to stand but Nerille clung to him.

‘Wait. There’s more.’

The air chilled and the sky above them filled with blocks of ice the size of barrows. Spinning fast and freezing the air around them, they flew high and deep into the city, their momentum carrying them far further than any orb could travel.

‘Tual’s balls,’ breathed Jio. ‘Clear! Get clear!’

His shouts were useless. The ice began to fall right in the heart of the city. It smashed the spire from the temple of Ix. The temple of Yniss’ roof collapsed under a trio of direct hits. Tens, hundreds of the ice boulders crashed down among thousands of Katurans who had thought they were far enough from the walls to be safe. One even landed on the steps of the makeshift stores. Nerille gasped. The quartermaster would have been standing there. He must have seen it coming all the way. She prayed he had found shelter in time.

The barrage lessened. Shouts for stretchers and fire teams echoed about the empty streets. Elves broke from their hiding places. The orbs had done terrible damage. Fire now leapt from house to house, business to business, the magical flames travelling with the speed of a jao deer.

Jio stood and Nerille stood with him. They looked down. Steel plate hung from broken fastenings. Stone was scattered about the base of the walls. The gatehouse was empty and on fire inside. There was no sign of Pelyn or the elves who had stood with her.

‘Casting!’

They dropped from sight again. Jio was shivering, clutching at his pendant.

‘How long can they keep this up?’

‘Not long enough,’ said Nerille. ‘Have courage, Jio. The TaiGethen are with us. They fear nothing and each of them is worth a hundred humans. I have to get back to the stores and see what I can do.’

‘No,’ said Jio. ‘You saw the strike on the steps. You could be killed.’

‘I’m safer on the walls, am I?’ Nerille smiled and kissed Jio’s cheek. ‘Worry about yourself. Don’t take any chances.’

Nerille made for the nearest ladder and climbed down into the city. Overhead, the castings came in again. Fire and ice rained down on the city. She pressed herself against the walls, which suffered no fresh impacts. Mages clustered up in the sky, spotting fresh targets and directing the barrage. She cursed them and prayed to Gyal for rain and mist to give them some respite. But the day was hot and the clouds distant. Even Gyal was in hiding.

Nerille looked to her right. A body lay at the base of the gatehouse. It was moving, the cloak smouldering but not aflame. It was Pelyn, it had to be. Nerille hurried along the street, staying close to the wall. An orb seared the air overhead and plunged into a potter’s workshop, blowing timbers and splinters in all directions when it hit.

Nerille felt a splinter cut her cheek. She turned her head away and crouched, trying to protect herself while she moved. Pelyn pushed herself to her knees and used the gates to pull herself to her feet. Nerille reached her and offered a steadying hand. The elf’s face was black with ash and red with burns, but the fire in her eyes was brighter than any fire orb.

‘Good, you survived the first wave,’ said Pelyn.

‘You too. The centre of the city has been hit. They need help.’

Pelyn nodded. ‘Let’s go. Stay to the walls, use the cover. This bombardment isn’t going to stop any time soon.’

The gatehouse blazed above them. Fire teams were speeding from cover, trying to douse the magical flames and risking death as they did. More spells soared overhead, spreading their destruction across Katura. Nerille and Pelyn headed inwards, where the city meant as a sanctuary had been turned to ash and ice.