James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

Jeral stared at the city walls. They hadn’t been tested severely and they’d withstood both fire and ice. The Sharps’ industry in armouring the front face was impressive, but he could see plenty of potential to exploit weak points. There was a big one, right in the centre.

‘Orders, commander,’ said Hynd.

‘Companies Eight to Ten to march within casting range. Concentrate everything on those gates. Knock them down and give me a way in.’

Hynd turned to relay the orders and Jeral heard them shouted across the army. Men got to their feet; company captains bellowed for discipline.

‘You don’t want to wait for Sinese and the Deneth Barine force any more?’ asked Lockesh.

‘No need when we can take the gates as we are. If you’re right about the you-know-what, the sooner we get this done the better. Anyway, I rather like the thought of the elves seeing another two thousand marching into view at dawn tomorrow. If the gates come down today then we can have this finished by lunchtime tomorrow, whatever our offensive capacities might be.’

‘Very good,’ said Lockesh. He was smiling. ‘You know, suddenly I feel I might actually survive this little expedition.’

‘Stick by me and I’ll see you all right,’ said Jeral, just about stopping himself from clapping the mage lord on the shoulder.

‘Quite,’ said Lockesh.

The three companies formed up and Jeral gave the order to march. The sun was moving behind a heavy bank of cloud on its way towards dusk. There should be just enough time. He turned to Hynd.

‘You know you should find yourself a replacement or you’re just going to be remembered as an aide. Hardly worthy of your contribution.’

‘I know just the candidate,’ said Hynd.

‘Good. In the meantime see the cook fires are lit. Hot food for everyone even if it’s only that ghastly tuber stew the Sharps love so much. Then get hold of the other company captains. We should probably have a meeting or something.’

‘We’re not going in today?’

‘I can think of no reason to. I have plans for the morning anyway. We have a whole lot more mages on their way, so if the Sharps think their city’s a mess now then they’ve seen nothing yet.’

Quillar and his Tai were gone, buried beneath the avalanche. Dimuund was missing. Faleen had fractured an ankle and Hassek, her second, had broken both wrists deflecting debris from his head. Neither would fight again in this battle.

Yet Auum had to be satisfied. The day was on the wane and the humans had failed to take the city. He ran back to the gates, his TaiGethen with him, still fresh but mourning their lost ones. They looked so few: thirty able to fight and two under the care of the healers.

Reaching the gatehouse, he saw its burned-out hulk and feared for Pelyn. He called up to the ramparts. Tulan was there, Ephram with him, speaking of the victory and boosting spirits wherever they went.

‘Where’s Pelyn?’

Tulan pointed back into the city. ‘Heading towards the stores the last time she was seen. They’re moving further south, getting anything vital to the lakeside.’

‘Good. And the walls?’

‘Holding,’ said Tulan. ‘They launched most of their spells over the top. Killed over a hundred; it’s a real mess back there.’

‘So I’ve seen.’

Tulan was distracted from their conversation and glanced out towards the enemy. He blew his cheeks out.

‘Here they come again.’

Auum raced up a ladder. Several hundred soldiers and mages were marching across the centre of the field, straddling the main trail. Every time they marched Auum wondered about going out to meet them and dismissed the notion. On open ground they would be taken apart by spells and arrows before they could ever close for a fight.

When the hand-to-hand battle began, it had to be inside the walls, where the streets were tight and the enemy formations would be broken. It was a paradox he was struggling with. He was desperate to keep them out of the city but was unable to cut down their numbers sufficiently on the field. To beat them, they had to face them on the very streets they were trying so hard to defend.

‘What are they planning, I wonder?’ asked Ephram.

‘They need to get in,’ said Auum. ‘They probably feel they’ve softened us up enough inside, now they’ll try to break the gates. Tulan, clear the ramparts around the gate. Keep the archers hidden in case they do breach the gates and attack. Ephram, I want more weight behind the gates; there are tonnes of timber in the streets. Let’s get it stacked there with bracing poles and strong elves to hold them. Go.’

Auum jumped back down to the waiting TaiGethen. ‘Help get the timber and rubble to the gates. And somebody find Pelyn.’

Elves dropped from the ramparts to gather whatever they could to further strengthen the gates. Outside, Auum heard their attackers draw up. He and Ulysan carried a heavy timber and placed it on the top of the quickly growing pile.

‘We need bracing timbers placed higher up,’ he said. ‘Any spell we make them use to take the gates down is a spell they can’t use on our people.’

‘I’ll find something,’ said Ulysan.’

‘Casting!’

Word was passed along the rampart and back into the city. Every elf repeated the call. Fire orbs began to thud against the gates. Auum stood twenty yards behind them, watching the steel-clad wood rattle and shake. Around him, elves carried more and more timber to the base, shoring it up as best they could.

There were multiple impacts, landing one after another. Auum could see new fire spreading across the ruined gatehouse. There was a moment’s pause followed by a terrified cry from the lookout.

‘Ward!’

A massive detonation sounded and the top of the gates splintered. Glowing metal shards fizzed through the air. Right in front of Auum, one of the disguised Katurans was struck in the chest. The metal went straight through him, leaving an exit hole the size of his fist. The victim was flung backwards, slithering to a stop, dead, at Auum’s feet.

‘Clear the road!’ shouted Auum. ‘Bring the braces and shore up the top of those gates. Move!’

The top three feet of the gate had been bent inwards. Auum raced forward, seeing Ulysan and three others carrying the flagpole. He joined them and they planted the wide base in the mud where the cobbles had been dug out, and positioned the top against the seam about halfway up.

‘It had been blown down,’ said Ulysan. ‘The top ten feet are missing.’

‘Casting!’ came the cry. ‘Brace, brace!’

Ice boulders smashed against the breach in the gates. Orbs beat into the middle. Auum leaned hard against the pole along with seven others, his arms vibrating with every strike. Metal groaned, joints weakened and timbers split behind the armour. More of the gate failed, the top right-hand hinge was springing open, opening up a hole the size of an elf.

It was as relentless as it was inevitable. Another massive impact and the gates bowed inwards with the sound of screaming metal and the collapse of the shoring timbers, which slid lazily back. Auum saw the seam of the gates break. The heavy slide latches bent, ready to give. Wood was beginning to smoulder.

‘Casting. Clear, clear, clear!’

Auum heard the note of panic and knew it was over. ‘Run!’

He ran two paces and dived full length into the lee of the walls. He rolled onto his back and saw the third thundering impact rip a hole through the middle of the gates. The flagpole was shattered, pieces cartwheeling away. The gates rocked open, sweeping away the shoring timbers and slamming against their stays. Metal plates clattered to the ground. The tattered right-hand gate leaned out, hanging in space for a moment before falling.