Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura

by James Barclay

  They dropped the mage a few feet to the bare rock and flew back down, passing more mage pairs flying rescue missions. He saw the TaiGethen urging the highest climbers to greater efforts, practically pushing some of them up and out of range. Out on the approach the wards had all been divined and enough made safe. The Xeteskians were streaming through a single point and fanning out immediately they were inside the arcs.

  ‘One more trip!’ he called to Parilas.

  The elven mage nodded his head and they powered down again. The Xeteskians were all but ready now; Stein could feel mana streams intensifying as they were drawn into multiple constructs. The remaining few Il-Aryn were scrambling up in panic now and arrows were starting to flick off the mountain.

  Stein and Parilas reached their target and hauled him unceremoniously off the wall, surging up at prodigious speed. He was dropped safely next to his people. Others had made the entire climb and with them came most of the TaiGethen.

  ‘We need to try one more,’ said Parilas.

  ‘One more,’ agreed Stein.

  They plunged down the wall. Mage pairs were still diving below them, grabbing Il-Aryn and darting back up into the sky. At a shout from the Xeteskian commander, the archers fell back. Moments later, the castings arced out.

  Stein and Parilas drove their wings forward hard, braking their descents. Orbs of fire, at least thirty of them, crashed into the wall about forty feet up, each one amplifying the power of the last. A great wave of flame washed up the side of the mountain. It travelled at horrific speed, consuming a mage pair and their Il-Aryn passenger, turning them to ash in its wake. More were on the wall and would be taken.

  Up it rolled, a hundred feet, two hundred feet, three—

  ‘Tilman,’ breathed Stein, then he shouted. ‘Tilman!’

  Stein broke from Parilas and powered towards the ledge where he had left the boy thinking he was safe. But the fire wave would wash over his perch and he was helpless to move. Stein shot across the mountain, the heat travelling above the wave making everything hazy in front of him. It threatened to choke the air from him and vaporise the wings at his back, but he would not turn from his promise to keep the boy safe.

  Stein was forced higher as the wave ascended. He looked down towards the ledge and saw it engulfed in fire just before the casting lost its force and began to fall back. He screamed his sorrow and anger, and his guilt rose in his throat, erupting as anguished cries.

  Stein braked, staring at the ledge, unable to deny the image of poor Tilman wailing for help while his death roared up to steal him from the mountain. He rose slowly, but then he saw a figure moving carefully up the wall, crabbing left to where the incline began to ease.

  He flew in to see if he could help, and as he closed in, the warmth flooded back into his heart. There was Auum, climbing with all the confidence of a TaiGethen born to the trees and with the strength and agility a man could only achieve in his dreams. And on his back, arms around his neck and with that one boot still in his hand, was Tilman.

  Stein flew in close, his relief momentarily robbing him of words. Tilman noticed him and turned his head.

  ‘It was getting a little warm waiting for you so I hitched a ride with Auum.’

  ‘A wise choice,’ said Stein. ‘Thank you, Auum.’

  ‘I didn’t spend all that time saving his life on the ground just to let them cook him on the ledge,’ said Auum a little breathlessly. ‘How did we do?’

  ‘We couldn’t save everyone,’ said Stein. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why didn’t we fly them up earlier?’ asked Tilman.

  ‘Because the Xeteskian fliers would have picked us off. We’d have lost twice the number,’ said Stein.

  Auum nodded. ‘Come on. Let’s get to level ground and see who we’ve got left.’

  The truth was that it could have been much worse. For all Stein’s guilt at not saving everyone, had he not risked his life and asked his fliers to do the same, the fifty Il-Aryn who were safe and well on the gentle slope leading to the ridge would have numbered thirty or less. They’d lost fourteen mages along with three Julatsan elves. It was a cause for sadness, for prayer and lamentation but, given their parlous position, not a disaster.

  Auum sat with Ulysan and Grafyrre while others of the TaiGethen moved among the Il-Aryn, offering congratulations and seeing they were comfortable enough on their perch. They had their backs to the ridge and were looking out over Balaia.

  ‘How high up are we?’ asked Ulysan

  ‘About nine hundred feet,’ said Auum. ‘We’ve barely scratched this mountain.’

  ‘Feels colder already, doesn’t it?’ said Grafyrre.

  He was right. There was a wind blowing from the west, and it brought with it the chill air of the mountain peaks and the snow and ice Stein had promised them. It was a gusting breeze, picking at hair and clothing. Auum was not looking forward to walking into its teeth.

  ‘Do you think it’ll look any better the higher up we go?’ asked Ulysan. ‘I mean, look at it; it’s so empty.’

  Auum smiled. There was so much open ground, which undulated pleasantly enough and was all the shades of green and brown you could wish for, but it was so plain. There were trees, there was even a sizeable forest dead ahead, though in comparison to the glory of Calaius perhaps three drops in the sea. But it was a forest nonetheless.

  But what dominated Auum’s attention way beyond the far shores of Triverne Lake were four great smudges on the land, one of which partly obscured the forest they could see.

  ‘I wonder if those are—’ he began.

  ‘They are,’ said Stein wandering up behind them. ‘Those are our beloved colleges, wreathed in the fog of human existence. From left to right: Julatsa, Dordover, Lystern, Xetesk, the latter conveniently the closest to Understone Pass.’

  ‘How far is Xetesk from the pass?’ asked Grafyrre.

  ‘About a day’s ride. It’s thirty-five or forty miles. Just a morning trot for the TaiGethen. Whoa! What the hell do they want?’

  A trio of Xeteskian mages had appeared above the rock wall and were flying towards them at a gentle pace, high enough to avoid jaqrui and spell. Coming closer, they waved a white piece of cloth. Stein looked at Auum.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Don’t ask him,’ said Ulysan. ‘He beheaded the last man who offered him a parley.’

  ‘The beheading was some time after the parley and he was trying to kill me,’ said Auum.

  ‘Just saying,’ said Ulysan.

  ‘So . . . ?’ said Stein.

  ‘They can talk to you if they want,’ said Auum. ‘I have nothing to say to those bastards. Just remind them I’m faster than any casting they might think to unleash. Do you want to talk to them?’

  Stein shrugged. ‘A little taunting never hurts.’

  Stein walked a little downslope, waiting some forty yards from the edge of the wall for the Xeteskians to land. The three men were all young and strong, landing and walking with an arrogant air. Skullcaps were tight about their heads, and their cloaks were identically trimmed black with silver stitching – junior mages.

  ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ said the central one, walking slightly ahead of the others.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Stein. ‘I have no time for chat.’

  ‘We’ve come to offer you custody and safe passage to Xetesk, where you will be treated with respect until the conflict is resolved.’

  Stein glanced behind him. Auum, Ulysan and Grafyrre were all standing and much of the group was bunched up behind them, wanting to hear.

  ‘I am long since past believing the words of any representative of Xetesk. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.’

  ‘You will all die up here,’ said the second of them, his tone sneering.

  ‘We take a different view, but thank you for your concern. Is there anything else?’

  ‘Your water is finite, your food too and your cover non-existent. Unless you’re planning to build houses up here and pla
nt crops, we will outlast you, and our offer will not stand when you come crawling back down the wall,’ said the first.

  ‘The place has lovely views, don’t you think?’ said Stein. ‘From here we’ll be able to see the Wesman hordes swarm about your college when the Wytch Lords betray your perverse alliance. It is you who have little time, if you ask me. We’ll take our chances here.’

  ‘You must agree to our terms,’ said the third. ‘It is your only chance to live.’

  ‘Ah, of course, you were told to leave none of us alive, weren’t you? No one to tell the tale of your betrayal. That bird has flown, my friends, but don’t worry. Julatsa has no intention of attacking you. We will bide our time until the war is done and the reckoning starts.’

  ‘We will win the war,’ said the first.

  ‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we? Now let me be clear: we are not going to surrender to you.’

  ‘Then starve on your mountainside,’ said the first.

  All three took wing and flew away, and Stein roared with laughter. By the time he’d walked back to Auum, he had the ear of every elf.

  ‘They think we are staying here until they go,’ he said. ‘They think we’re going to try and wait them out. Oh, they are so predictable.’

  ‘Will they attack again?’ asked Grafyrre.

  ‘Not up here,’ said Stein. ‘They’re blustering now. They’ll watch us go, and our departure will light a lantern in the dim recesses of their minds, but by the time they realise what we’re doing it will already be too late.’

  ‘That reminds me, Ulysan,’ said Auum. ‘Did Ephemere contact the ships?’

  ‘She did, and Takaar isn’t there, at least, not yet.’

  Stein saw Auum frown.

  ‘It isn’t that far, not for running elves. Unless he’s dead, he has to have made it, unless . . . Stein, draw me a line from Julatsa to Korina and tell me what you pass close to on the way.’

  Stein knew what he was talking about, what Takaar desired.

  ‘The Septern Manse is the most notable landmark.’

  Auum chuckled. ‘That mad old bastard, I never really doubted he’d persuade Gilderon to make a detour. I wonder what havoc he’s wreaked there, him and his Senserii.’

  ‘But is he still there now, do you think?’ mused Ulysan.

  ‘One thing I promise you,’ said Auum, ‘he won’t be heading for the ships.’

  ‘And probably won’t be rushing to our aid either,’ said Ulysan.

  Auum shrugged. ‘We’ve got this far.’

  ‘So we have,’ said Stein. ‘And now it’s time to get going. It’s a long slow walk to the next resting place, and we don’t want to be on that ridge in the dark.’

  ‘Doesn’t bother us,’ said Ulysan.

  Stein rolled his eyes.

  ‘All right then, I don’t want to be on the ridge in the dark. Come on, I’m bored with the view anyway.’

  Chapter 26

  You have experienced nothing until you have experienced bone-aching cold.

  Auum, Arch of the TaiGethen

  All of their good humour had been eroded to nothing by early afternoon. Stopping for food had been even more unpleasant than continuing to walk, though progress had become so slow they barely seemed to be moving forward at all. It was a single line of misery, picked at by increasingly strong winds and showered by wind-blown ice on the whim of whatever god ruled these mountains.

  In all his thousands of years Auum had never felt himself so unprepared for anything. And they had begun in such high spirits, despite the losses on the climb and those killed by magic the previous day. The incline was easy, the ridge was narrow but not so uneven as to present a real risk for the careful walker, and the sun had broken through the clouds to provide some warmth despite the gusting wind.

  Auum had chatted to Stein at the head of the line, the human pointing out the names of peaks they could see piercing the sky to the north and south. They were to be in the mountains for two days, more if they were unlucky in the paths they chose, but Auum had not been unhappy at the prospect. The scale of the range was staggering and the beauty matched it. There were white-capped peaks, ice slopes, vertiginous cliffs and chasms that surely led straight to the bowels of the earth. It was breathtaking.

  It was not until shortly before midday that Auum felt the first stirring of unease. The clouds had covered the sun and the temperature had fallen sharply. With the clouds had come an icy wind straight out of the west and into their faces, driving the temperature down still further. They had been showered in snow from the high peaks ahead before a chill rain had soaked them to shivers.

  The stop for food just after midday had been a miserable affair. Mages spaced throughout the line had melted snow in pans for a hot drink and they had boiled horsemeat to make a thoroughly unappetising meal. The meat was tough and tasted like Xeteskian revenge for their escape.

  Auum had moved up and down the line trying to keep their spirits up, but it was difficult to do when, despite the cloak about his body and the shirt tied across his mouth and nose, he was absolutely freezing. He rubbed his hands together, not daring to put them in his pockets in case of a fall, and with every step he stamped his feet to try and keep the circulation going. His boots were made for the rainforest and, durable as they were, they were not built for warmth.

  Their clothing was woefully inadequate. Worse, their bodies had adapted over generations to the heat, humidity and occasional gentle chill of the rainforest and were unable to cope with the cutting cold. Auum found it hard to draw a full breath and was not alone in feeling a growing sense of anxiety that the next time he inhaled, he might get nothing.

  The Julatsan elves were able to generate some heat, which they could share with embraces that were all too short, but they had to maintain their stamina for walking, heating water and food and to fly if they must.

  The further they climbed, the harsher the wind became. The white of snow and ice hurt their eyes; the savage cold numbed their faces and froze their hands and feet, and when it became a gusting gale, most of them were forced to move on all fours, their already aching hands having to clutch at stunningly cold rock through the snow.

  Auum was doggedly staying upright, and Stein, who had demonstrated remarkable resistance to the cold, was right behind him. Ulysan, who was the fittest of them all, carried Tilman on his back and had to be in trouble physically. He only ever smiled when Auum looked down the line at him. Yniss bless him, thought Auum, the moment he ceases to smile we are all in desperate straits.

  ‘How far to the next face?’ shouted Auum, turning his head so his words were not whipped away by the wind.

  Stein squinted ahead and his frown deepened. He could not hide his concern and it was only having Auum ahead of him which stopped him setting a faster pace. Night would fall quickly here, and they could not afford to be exposed when it did, or most of them would not survive until dawn.

  ‘At this pace, I don’t know. I can’t send fliers up, it’s too windy and the updraughts here are horrible to negotiate.’

  ‘Have you been up here before?’ asked Auum.

  ‘Often,’ said Stein. ‘I’ve walked this ridge before, but it never seemed so long and I always chose a fine day in the middle of summer when the snow is a mere memory at this height.’

  ‘What is there at the end of the ridge?’

  ‘Shelter of a sort. There’s an overhang and a rock shelf facing east so we can be out of the worst of the wind. Going to have to huddle close together tonight.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?’

  ‘I did, Auum. Didn’t change anything, though, did it?’

  Auum shook his head. ‘And what happens after that? Where do we go next?’

  Stein had the good grace to look a little sheepish as he replied. ‘I’ve never gone any further. The path to Wesman territory has never appealed.’

  ‘But your fliers . . .’ said Auum, feeling suddenly vulnerable and utterly responsible for those he had
talked into coming up here.

  ‘They haven’t been able to scout routes because of the wind. We need it to drop.’

  Auum felt a different sort of chill. ‘You’re saying there may not be a way on and down?’

  ‘That’s the way of the Blackthornes, and it’s a good job too or the Wesmen could march armies over them.’

  ‘And what if we can’t find a route?’

  Stein shrugged. ‘Then we will have to turn back.’

  Auum put his face to the wind once again and pushed on a little bit faster.

  ‘That is not going to happen,’ he muttered, then he roared at the blank face of the mountains ahead of him. ‘Do you hear me? You will not beat me! As Yniss is my witness and my god, you will not stand in my way!’

  The mountains said nothing but the wind blew harder, throwing his words back in his face, taunting him with the promise of more ice. Auum flexed his hands and pressed them into his armpits. It made no difference. He wondered if he’d ever be able to feel them again.

  They had run far and fast, across hill and through valley past farmstead and hamlet by night and by day only to find this. Gilderon knelt in the midst of the ash and wept for the fallen while his Senserii spread through the carnage, trying to understand what had happened and how many had perished.

  That all the dead here were elven was not in doubt. The weapons and buckles that had survived the inferno were unmistakable. Here and there some bones remained, but of the flesh and blood there was nothing at all. There were also bolts from cartwheels and part of one axle too.

  ‘This can’t be all of them,’ he whispered. ‘Yniss forgive me but I must pray that Auum at least has survived.’

  ‘Gilderon.’

  ‘Helodian,’ said Gilderon, looking up. ‘Speak.’

  ‘This was not their last stand. We found tracks leading into the foothills and Teralion has found bodies laid out for reclamation. The tracks head on towards the mountains. Cordolan is following them. It is clear a good number survived, though the ground makes it impossible to count how many.’