James Barclay - Once walked with Gods

Pelyn ran to the right. The Apposans and Ixii closing there were well armed and fierce. They moved in an organised unit, ten wide and four deep. Swords and axes to the front and sharpened staffs and javelins to the back. Al-Arynaar turned to face them. They did not flinch in their approach.

Elven blades clashed outside the harbour master’s warehouse. The Al-Arynaar line bowed inwards but held. Pelyn ran to its centre. She could feel the reluctance all around her. Jakyn blocked a straight thrust aside, exposing the flank of an attacker. He shoved the iad back rather than disembowel her.

At the far right of the line an Al-Arynaar fielded an axe on his shield. Again, he shoved forward when a thrust above the shield would have finished his attacker.

‘Bring them down!’ shouted Pelyn. ‘Fight, don’t play.’

She pushed between two of her people. Three Ixii faced her. One ignored her, aiming a blow at the Al-Arynaar on her right. The other two came at her, both meaning to strike overarm. Pelyn swayed inside one blow and blocked the other up and out right. She smashed her left fist into the face of the first Ixii. He staggered back, unbalanced.

Pelyn twisted her blade out from under the hilt of her enemy’s, leaving his body entirely open. Pelyn did what she had to do. She rammed her sword into the Ixii’s throat. Arterial blood sprayed out. The ula clamped his hands to his neck, trying to scream. He collapsed forward.

Pelyn locked eyes with the iad behind.

‘Flinch and perish,’ she said.

She stepped up and thrust her blade into the Ixii’s chest. The iad stared at her in mute shock. Pelyn was aware of a roaring around her. Fury. Indignation. Pelyn dragged her blade clear.

‘I warned you!’ she shouted. ‘Disperse.’

But it had gone far too far for that. The Apposan and Ixii alliance surged again. An Al-Arynaar Second Reverent lost an arm to a huge chopping blow. Another was stabbed in the midriff and fell forward, taking her attacker down with her. And everything Pelyn’s words had failed to stir was brought to the boil in an instant. A third Al-Arynaar deflected a strike to the neck. He riposted, bashing his shield out into the Ixii’s face and driving his sword in waist high.

Pelyn ducked a wild swipe, dropping to her haunches. She swept out a foot as Katyett had taught her, tripping the Apposan. He fell sideways, unbalancing another. Pelyn rose, lashing a kick into his face, and disengaged from the fight. She backed into the small space in front of the warehouse doors and looked out over the harbourside.

The fighting Beethans and Tualis battered into the rear of the thread allies attacking the Al-Arynaar. To her right, Apposan and Ixii were simply swept away. To the left it was a little harder going. Out towards the harbour, twenty or more bodies lay on the ground and bloody smears tracked through pools of blood.

‘Jakyn!’ The lad ran to her. ‘I want those doors open. We need a place to go. Quickly now.’

The Tualis and Beethans turned on the Al-Arynaar. The full force of hundreds of enraged elves was focusing on a tenth their number of Al-Arynaar. Pelyn made for the centre of the line. Three boathooks flew in on lengths of one-inch rope. The sharpened ends snagged cloak and armour. Two warriors were simply upended and hauled into the enemy. Fingers tore and teeth ripped. Tualis streamed into the gap.

‘Fall back!’ shouted Pelyn. ‘Fall back to the doors.’

The enemy came at her. She was alone for the moment. Four of them with many more behind though her surviving warriors were closing, narrowing the breach with every heartbeat.

Pelyn drew a dagger with her left hand and moved into a fluid fighting position. Both blades were forward and she bent slightly at the waist to increase her reach while maintaining her balance. The quartet came at her in a rush. None had blades. One had a chain which she circled high over her head. A second carried a pickaxe that appeared too heavy for him. He was young yet, immature.

The chain wielder brought her weapon down overhead. Pelyn leapt back, thudding into the timbers of the gatehouse. She hadn’t realised she’d strayed so close. The chain struck sparks from the ground. Pelyn pushed herself off the wall and jabbed her dagger into the pickaxe chain-wielder’s gut, leaving it where it lodged. A hand raked in from the right. Pelyn swayed back, feeling nails tear into her cheek and across under her nose.

Pelyn slashed her blade out and right, feeling it glance off the Tuali’s skull, ripping his scalp open to the bone. The second unarmed elf hesitated. Pelyn straightened. The iad did not know what to do. Pelyn kicked out into her groin and battered the pommel of her blade into the back of the iad’s neck, sending her thudding onto the cobblestones, her head bouncing unpleasantly.

Pelyn turned to the pickaxe carrier. The Tuali youth was staring at a blade deep in his stomach right below the breastbone. Jakyn pulled his weapon clear and stared at Pelyn.

‘We were at school together,’ he said.

‘Well he didn’t listen well enough.’

‘Door’s open.’

Pelyn nodded. ‘Al-Arynaar. Disengage.’

The Al-Arynaar shoved forward and paced back, buying themselves a yard of space. The Tuali and Beethan alliance of convenience held. They paused for breath.

‘Into the warehouse. Now. Jakyn, the door.’

Pelyn and Jakyn rolled the big single door open. Jakyn ran to its other end, ready for his next order. Al-Arynaar sprinted in. The last four came in backwards, swords fencing away at the press of the enemy. One tripped over the rail. Beethan and Tuali ran inside.

‘Jakyn, close it.’

The youth pushed hard. The door slid quickly, beating into the body of an unlucky Tuali. The door bounced back a little. Al-Arynaar dragged her inside. Jakyn closed the door.

‘Brace it. Seal it. Anyhow.’

Jakyn kept his weight on the door, which juddered with the blows of the enemy without. Al-Arynaar were at work on the inside bolts. Others killed the enemy inside. A moment’s respite.

‘We won’t stop them getting in for long,’ said Jakyn.

‘Then let’s find ourselves a way out,’ said Pelyn.

‘If there was one, surely they’d have entered through it by now,’ said a warrior.

‘You’re thinking too big.’

Pelyn turned away from the door, which was heaving under blow after blow. Axeheads were already biting through its timbers. The warehouse was huge. Racks stood against each wall and ran away for a hundred yards in six columns. They carried pretty much every conceivable item of any use to the city. Meticulously laid out and organised. Such was the mind of the harbour master.

From ship’s masts, anchors, hawsers, sheets and sails, through every kind of pot, plate, mug and server in tin and clay, through a myriad plumbing and guttering joints, through carts, saddles, yokes, barrels, hoops, locks, keys, medical supplies… You could wander the shelves, racks and nets for ever.

But the prize lay on shelves to the right, above nets so the mice and rats could not gain access. Tons of it. Food. Dried, sealed and preserved. Meat, fruit, grain and rice for the most part. Barrel after barrel of wine and spirits. Endless pots of dried herbs. Emergency supplies to keep the city alive in the most extreme of times. Times like now.

Pelyn stared at it all and weighed the measure of her failure. Not enough Al-Arynaar to keep the main supplies safe. Supplies they’d all assumed burned in the first hours after the denouncement that were going to be utterly vital in the days to come. Hours when she had focused all her energy on keeping the temple of Yniss safe. Another failure.

The timbers of the door were beginning to weaken. Pelyn’s people backed off, bodies tense, hands gripping swords nervously. Those they had protected only yesterday were ready to rip the faces from their skulls. How had it come to this? Pelyn shook her head. The Al-Arynaar were no more than a guerrilla force and the ringleaders of all this knew it. Just like they knew what the TaiGethen would do if the Ynissul were put under threat.