A movement above them caught Merrat’s eye. The spotter mage had flown back and was hovering midway along the street, pointing out targets. Moments later, spells arced out from the main concentration of mages by the city gates, trailing smoke as they came. Two clusters of blue-brown flame orbs, fizzing and spitting, plunged into houses either side of the road and about thirty yards behind Corinn’s Tai as they continued their retreat.
Flame and burning timber exploded up and out. Burning debris was scattered across the street. Merrat heard at least one building collapse and a wave of heat and noise rolled past them, filling the air with the smells of fire once more. Merrat saw the spotter mage put his arms across his chest in an X-shape.
‘Missed,’ said Nyann.
‘No, they didn’t,’ said Merrat, and he signalled Grafyrre to be ready. ‘Corinn’s in trouble.’
The air chilled so quickly that Merrat’s next breath frosted in front of him. Freezing air blasted from both sides of the street across the burning buildings, flattening anything that remained upright and snuffing out the fire. Plumes of smoke and steam forged skywards. Merrat swore and gave the black howler monkey’s guttural call.
‘Tai, we move!’
Merrat led his Tai into the street. Grafyrre mirrored his move while overhead the spotter mage began signalling again. Corinn had turned at the sound of the flight call but had not otherwise responded.
‘Corinn!’ yelled Merrat. ‘Run. Get back to us now!’
Like a dream running slowly, Merrat saw Corinn look at the blasted buildings behind her as if for the first time before beginning to run with her Tai. But at the same time, the first humans surged across the blackened, cold timbers and spilled onto the street, filling it quickly.
‘Get among them!’ shouted Merrat. ‘Corinn needs a path.’
The chasing force roared and charged. Merrat led his Tai forward at a sprint. Elven arrows flashed across the space from high buildings on the outer circle. A few men were struck but all too soon the shafts were bouncing off a shield and spells began falling on the elven archer positions.
Merrat drew his twin blades and crashed into the attack, Nyann and Ysset at his sides; Grafyrre’s Tai just to their right. Dozens of men had turned towards them leaving the rest to close the pincer on Corinn’s Tai. Merrat could just see her, blood covering her sword, moving fast and keeping low and balanced, determined to take down as many as she could.
Merrat blocked a man’s blade and chopped his free blade into his neck. Blood sprayed across the humans and the enemy collapsed to the side. Merrat moved up a pace, blades defending his body and head. He heard Ysset gasp, then the thud of her blade and her victim’s scream. Nyann’s blades weaved in Merrat’s peripheral vision, one striking sparks off enemy steel, the other stabbing through a man’s throat.
Merrat ducked a flailing strike and rammed both his swords into his enemy’s gut. He stood, kicked the man aside and moved up, his Tai with him.
‘Keep pushing,’ he urged. ‘We can break through.’
But on the flanks the enemy were beginning to understand the attack in the centre and were running round to box them in. Above, the spotter mage brought down fire and ice on buildings twenty yards behind Merrat and Corinn and her Tai were completely surrounded.
‘Merrat!’ It was Grafyrre. ‘Too many. Break off, or we’re trapped.’
Merrat smashed the hilt of a blade into his enemy’s nose and with the other blocked a strike from another intended for Nyann. Nyann reacted quickly, disembowelling the man and swaying inside a thrust to his heart from his left. Ysset broke her attacker’s knee with a straight kick before moving in half a pace, crushing his nose with her elbow and driving a blade through his heart.
‘No! We can’t leave them to die,’ Merrat called back.
But he knew Grafyrre was right: the lines of men were thickening. A glance behind told him they were close to being cut off, and ahead an elven shriek followed by a roar of triumph told him that one of Corinn’s Tai had perished. Merrat pushed back a pace, needing a moment to make a decision.
And then there she was: Corinn. She had leapt high above her enemies’ heads, her legs brought up to her chest and her dripping red blades circling in her arms to strike down. Her clothing was drenched in gore and blood pulsed from wounds all over her body. Merrat took in her face. It was cut across the forehead and her cheeks and chin were smeared with blood. Her mouth was open in a cry of fury and her eyes burned with her hatred of man.
Eyes everywhere were drawn to her by the scream that burst from her lips. One of her blades hacked down into a man’s neck, half-severing his head. Blood erupted from the wound and Corinn exulted. A blade was thrust up, skewering her through the gut as she began to descend. She faced her killer and drove her other blade into his chest. Both disappeared from view, into the midst of the enemy.
‘No!’ yelled Merrat and he made to move forward.
Ysset grabbed his arm and dragged him back. ‘We have to go. Now.’
In the heartbeat before battle was joined again, Merrat’s head cleared and he turned and ran, calling his Tai and seeing Grafyrre sprinting along beside him. His friend’s face was grey and angry and the pain of defeat hurt more than the thrust of any blade. Behind them, men shouted and gave chase.
Merrat ran hard past the destruction wrought by magic. More spells bit into the street ahead of them, sending sheets of flame high into the air. More spells destroyed the buildings they ran past, revealing yet more men choking the city streets. The TaiGethen ran harder, Merrat moving them towards a narrow opening between two as-yet-undamaged houses.
Arrows hissed through the air, slamming into wood and dirt but sparing their targets further pain. Merrat slid to a halt at the opening and herded his charges inside.
‘Keep running. Let’s get to the central rally point.’
He took a last look at the invading humans, ducking back as a trio of arrows thudded into the timbers where his head had been. He ran after his people, feeling the first tears threatening. They lost the humans easily in the maze of alleys that linked the Tuali ghetto to that of the Ixii, and from there to the core of Katura.
Reaching the rally point, they paused and Grafyrre turned to stare at Merrat.
‘How can we prevail against power like that?’ he asked.
Merrat placed his hands on Grafyrre’s shoulders and pushed back the despair that threatened to overwhelm him too. How easily they had been beaten. There was no defence against the might of magic.
‘We fight on because it is all we have,’ said Merrat. ‘Until the last of us falls if that’s what it takes.’
Beside him, Ysset wavered.
‘Ysset?’
‘It’s all right, I’m—’ A frown crossed Ysset’s face and she dropped to her knees and then fell to her side. ‘Merrat?’
Merrat crouched down beside her. Blood ran in a thin line from her mouth. Merrat looked quickly down her body. There was a spreading stain of blood from close to her left armpit.
‘Oh no,’ breathed Merrat.
‘It’s all right,’ said Ysset, gasping her breaths. ‘I knew it was bad.’
‘You should have backed off, got help.’
‘I will never desert my Tai.’ Ysset smiled. ‘I knew it was bad. No sense in seeking help.’
Ysset’s smile faded and she sought and gripped Merrat’s hand. Merrat stared into her eyes until she died. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Until the last of us falls,’ said Grafyrre.
‘Until the last of us,’ said Merrat. ‘Not long now.’
‘Gods under water, I feel twenty-five again!’ Lockesh shouted.
Hynd wondered whether to marvel more at his skill or at his joy, the like of which he had never witnessed before. The mage lord was soaked with sweat but his belief and confidence had brought over five hundred mages to the battlefield, where they were doing precisely what Jeral wanted.
They were inside the gates now, surrounded by a ring of soldiers f
our deep to protect them from attack. The TaiGethen had been beaten back and at least three of them had been killed. Jeral was leading the central thrust straight into the heart of the city. The elven archers could not penetrate the shields and there was no sign of the city folk at all now that they had been broken and scattered. Spells flashed out above the army and into the buildings ahead, ripping off roofs, destroying walls and burning everything to cinders. There would be no hiding places left. It was just a matter of time.
Hynd watched the spotter mages circling just in front of the three prongs of Jeral’s trident attack. They were the brave ones. Despite all of Lockesh’s entreaties, Hynd would never have taken wing today; only three mages had volunteered to. They had pinpointed the TaiGethen and archers effectively so far, and the advantage they brought was incalculable.
Lockesh released his spell. The blue orb with spectacular white lightning blazing inside it flew hard and fast into the buildings which surrounded Katura’s central marketplace. Hynd watched it fly. It blew through a pair of shutters and detonated inside.
The force of the explosion rippled the roof so violently that it collapsed inwards and blew out shutters to either side. Timbers snapped inside the walls and the whole structure shifted to the right. The upper floor failed and dropped onto the floor below, the weight bringing the whole building down on itself. Dust billowed out and cheers rose clear over the sound of splintering wood.
The noise was so loud that Hynd didn’t hear the shouts of warning the first time. Caught up in the moment, he was surprised by the sudden push behind him and almost fell into the mage in front of him.
‘What the—’ Hynd turned to shove the soldier back. ‘Oh shit shit shit!’
A panther roared. Hynd saw its leap and its jaws, wide open and dripping saliva, clamp around a helpless soldier’s skull. Tall painted elves strode behind them, their hands like rapiers, their teeth sharpened to rip the flesh from his bones. They and their panthers were everywhere. Swords rose; blood fountained into the air; men screamed. The defence pushed back against the elves, granting the mages a little space.
‘Concentrate!’ screamed Lockesh.
Hynd had never heard him sound scared before. He forgot the ClawBound and turned. Lockesh was focused on a mage right next to him. Hynd didn’t know his name but he was sweating and rocking, plainly terrified, and he’d been about to cast when the attack began. Soldiers were pressing in on them from all sides, the mages trying to push them back, yelling for the space to cast.
‘I can’t . . .’ he said, crying like a child.
‘Yes, you can,’ said Lockesh. ‘Feel the shape and stabilise.’
Hynd let his mind fill with the mana spectrum and saw the shape of an orb in front of the young mage. It was tattered and, rather than spinning about its axis, was bowing into an oval, wobbling and juddering. Hynd swallowed hard. If the mage lost control of that construct it would spray lethal magical fire in all directions.
‘Let it go!’ said Hynd. ‘Cast it!’
Hynd was struck from behind and had no chance to help himself. He pitched forward, shoving the mage ahead of him hard in the back with his hands as he did. Hynd hit the ground with a weight on top of him and a warm and wet sensation around his neck.
He rolled over, heaving himself half up to shift the weight. The soldier, his throat torn out, slid onto the ground. Hynd shouted and scrabbled away.
‘Drag it back!’ yelled Lockesh. ‘Drag it back!’
Everything seemed to slow. Hynd stared up at the young mage through a crowd of legs and bodies, some trying to run forward, others trying to turn to face the ClawBound. A panther brushed past him. He could see elven legs in among his people. And he saw the mage lose his fight to contain the casting.
The young man’s mouth opened to scream as the flesh began to melt from his face. He put his hands to his cheeks and his eyes burst, blood spurted from his nose and flames encased him. His hair vaporised, his skin blackened and peeled away from his skull and his lips swelled and ruptured.
He reached for Lockesh and the mage lord, still sampling the mana spectrum, pushed him back.
‘Run,’ he shouted. ‘Run!’
Lockesh tried to shove his way through but there was no escape. The young mage erupted into a pillar of fire. Tongues of flame traced the mana and buried themselves in other casting mages. Hynd was flung back as if an invisible hand had punched him in the chest, and Lockesh was picked up and hurled ten feet into the air, crashing down onto soldiers six ranks ahead. His face had been burned away to the bone.
Above them, two spotter mages had flown closer. Hynd saw one’s wings gutter and fail with the shock of what he saw, and the other flew off, screeching and yelling.
‘He’s down! Lockesh is down!’
‘Sundering! Sundering!’
Panic sped through the army like a gust of wind across the water.
‘No, no, no!’ gasped Hynd, but he had no breath in his body. ‘There’s no Sundering. Turn. You have to turn and fight.’
He pulled himself back to his feet. There was fire everywhere. He couldn’t count the dead through the smoke. He heard someone yell for order, for a push back against the ClawBound, but there was no way for the soldiers through the panicked mage lines.
Hynd stumbled again. Men were everywhere. Mages were fleeing into the burning side streets. Panthers and elves ran after them, brought them down like game in a hunt. Hynd almost sampled the mana spectrum but feared what he would find. Lockesh was down. All the shields were down.
Hynd didn’t know what to do. He was surrounded by his own people but felt so vulnerable. Still the ClawBound attacked and now there was shouting from the army ahead.
‘Here they come!’ screamed a voice. ‘Archers! Archers on the rooftops. Get me shields. Hynd!’
It was Jeral, somewhere nearby, but Hynd couldn’t think straight. He heard a panther roar and jumped back, startled, only to find himself right next to Jeral. The captain hacked to the other side and Hynd heard an animal howl in pain.
‘Cast,’ said Jeral, backing away towards the centre of the army, fingers itching at the scars on his cheeks. ‘You can do it.’
‘I can’t,’ said Hynd. ‘Lockesh is gone. I can’t . . .’
Hynd felt a breeze pass by his left ear and saw an arrow slap into the mud. The next instant he felt an impact in his left shoulder. He grunted and stumbled.
‘I’m hit,’ he said. ‘Jeral, I’m hit.’
Hynd’s vision tunnelled. He tried to drag in a breath but it wouldn’t come. He pawed at his throat but his fingers were numb. He felt his legs give way and he fell to his knees. A searing pain flashed down his body, encasing him. Every nerve screamed. Hynd scrabbled at his throat. The pressure grew and he tried to gasp but there was nothing. No air and his mouth wouldn’t open.
‘All right, Hynd, I’ve got you. You’ll be all right,’ said Jeral.
Hynd pitched forward onto his face, unable to turn his head or put out his hands to break his fall. His eyes were wide but he was blind. The pain reached a crescendo and he could not give it voice. The sound of battle faded and the last thing he heard was Jeral shouting for help.
Chapter 37
Garan seeks death at every turn. Does, then, the human spirit need to evolve to properly embrace immortality?
From On Immortality by Ystormun, Lord of Calaius
Pelyn saw it happen and knew their chance had come. A great wash of flame had erupted in the midst of the enemy and the castings had stopped. She had seen them panic and a human had been thrown into the air. The ClawBound must have lost many but their attack never faltered. She could only hope Auum had been watching too, wherever he was.
She roared the order to charge and led three hundred from the hall of the Al-Arynaar into the central ring, where the human advance had stalled. Archers surged up the sides of tottering buildings and began to shoot. Arrows finally found their targets; the magical shields were gone.
Pelyn had the Al-Arynaar in a si
ngle line leading the hastily trained Katuran militia. Elsewhere, ready to face other human forces, Tulan and Ephram had similar numbers. Every other Katuran had been ordered back to the lake and the falls, as far south as they could go before the blank rock faces stopped them.
The humans outnumbered her people by five to one, but without their magic Pelyn doubted their courage. She raced around the edge of the burning, collapsed courthouse and into the ring, where men panicked and elven temples burned.
Pelyn howled her fury and ran harder. The enemy saw her and, after a moment’s shock, formed up on their commander’s orders. Arrows flew from behind their front ranks and three of her Al-Arynaar fell. So did some Katurans who would never get to defend their city after all. The charge did not falter.
Pelyn and her front line crashed into the humans. Pelyn caught a sword on the hilt of her blade, turned it aside and thumped a punch into the man’s face. She cut her sword back across his chest and kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him down among his fellows.
Two more came at her. She ducked a swipe at her head and whipped out her left fist, feeling it break teeth and split lips. Pelyn blocked a thrust to her midriff as she straightened then paced back, needing a breath. The soldier came at her again, overhead this time. She got her sword into position just in time and turned the blow aside. She kicked out straight, catching him in the stomach. He was fast, and his next strike cut her cheek while she tried to fend him away.
Next to her, an Al-Arynaar fell, his face bloodied and his skull split. A Katuran ula raced into the gap and delivered a massive blow with a shovel, slicing his enemy’s face open from right eye to left cheek, breaking bones and knocking him from his feet. The human clattered into Pelyn’s attacker and she seized her chance to bury her blade in his chest through his leather armour.
The shovel wielder was quickly cut down, but the Katurans kept coming. Another filled the gap, jabbing out with a long pitchfork, keeping his target well back. Pelyn moved into the space. She dropped to her haunches and swept her blade through her victim’s knees, pushed upright and jabbed out, her blow glancing off an enemy blade and into her target’s neck.
Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen Page 36
