Beyond the Mists of Katura e-3

by James Barclay

  ‘We’ve got to buy some time,’ said Auum. He ran into the midst of the escapees, conscious that at any moment new spells would start to fall. ‘TaiGethen, to me!’

  He didn’t wait to see who was with him, there was no time for that. He prayed enough had survived and ran at the mages who had flown in behind them. Ulysan was at his shoulder. Duele was there too, all three of them saved by being at the head of the column. There were others too, he could hear their footfalls.

  Ahead the mages had seen them.

  ‘Wait until they cast,’ called Auum. ‘Let’s make ourselves targets. Watch out for ice coming head on and use the shetharyn to evade.’

  Auum ran as hard as he could, closing the gap to fifty yards. The mages had stopped and orders were called across their lines. Hands were outstretched and castings surged out. Orbs of deep blue fire shot flat across the open ground, and frost turned the grass black on a wide arc racing towards them.

  ‘Speed!’ yelled Auum.

  He dropped into the shetharyn. All at once the paths of the orbs became slow and their impact points obvious. The frost was propelled on a hurricane of dread cold air, washing across the ground up to a height of about eight feet. Auum whipped forward, sensing his Tai following his instincts. Grafyrre was ahead of him, Vaart too, all sprinting headlong towards the frost, knowing the orbs would strike well behind them now.

  Auum increased his speed. The leading edge of the cold was a handful of paces away and he could feel the ice blowing ahead of it. He ran forward two more paces and jumped, pushing off with his left foot and flattening his body as he reached the apex of his leap. His arms were stretched out like a bird’s wings and the hurricane scoured the ground below him.

  Auum cleared it, bringing his legs under him and landing in a crouch, the frozen grass crunching underfoot. He sprinted on, jaqrui in hand. Fear replaced the smugness of the mage line. Some tried to form new castings but others were already backing away.

  ‘Jaqrui!’ called Auum.

  Thirteen crescent blades whistled away. They struck torsos, chopped deep into arms held up in defence and bit into thighs. One, Ulysan’s he thought, clipped the top of a mage’s head clean off, spraying brain and gore in all directions.

  Auum, his teeth bared, drew his blades and attacked. He knew anger fuelled him, and he dropped out of the shetharyn to conserve his strength. His blades hacked into the body of the first mage he reached. He paced on, placing a roundhouse kick in the side of another’s head and a blade through his gut. Auum lashed a cut into the face of a third, drove a blade into the throat of a fourth and roared like a panther as he dragged it clear.

  TaiGethen were flying in around him, delivering death without mercy.

  ‘Keep one alive!’ called Auum.

  It was done so fast. A handful managed to cast Wings of Shade and take off again, heading back to the woodland, but more than forty were dead or dying. Auum spat on the face of one who still clung to life.

  ‘You kill without honour and you die the same way,’ he said, and drove his blade into the man’s heart.

  ‘Auum!’ He turned. Ulysan had a mage by the scruff of the neck. He looked terrified. Blood trickled down his face from a cut on his forehead and his front teeth had been knocked out. His lips were burst and his nose skewed at an unnatural angle. ‘Good, bring him. Tais, with me.’

  Auum began to run hard back towards the ambush site, where the fighting was fierce. The remains of the cavalry were charging at a line of soldiers and archers. Enemy cavalry were gathered and wheeling to strike again too. More TaiGethen had formed a defensive perimeter in front of what looked like a painfully small number of survivors. The enemy were close enough to launch castings, but, as he watched, Auum saw orbs flash against protective shields, both the yellow of Julatsa and the brown of the Il-Aryn.

  Cavalry clashed with cavalry on the open ground. Auum felt the force of it vibrating through the ground from where he was running a couple of hundred yards adrift of the survivors. He could see more and more men coming from the trees. There had to be five hundred of them with considerable magical support. This confrontation was ultimately only going to go one way.

  Auum ran past the charred remains of so many good elves and up to the group of survivors, which was halfway up the first rise into the foothills. Merrat was there with Stein. More spells fell on the shields, which flared in response.

  ‘Merrat.’

  ‘Auum, we’re in trouble. We’ve got injured and dying here and we can’t go back around the lake. We’ll be too slow and there are too many men down there. They’ll pick us off.’

  ‘What are our numbers?’

  Merrat’s eyes were full of tears. ‘I dread to make a count. We’ve lost well over a hundred and fifty. More won’t survive the day, if any of us do.’

  Auum looked to Stein. He had a long burn down the side of his grey, frightened face and one arm was cradled in the other.

  ‘We should have listened to you,’ he said, his voice faint with his pain.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. We have to get into the hills. I’ll take the TaiGethen down to face the cavalry and buy you time. I’ll seek you out later. But you have to find a place up there to hide.’

  Stein nodded. ‘I’ll do what I can. Do you want mage support?’

  ‘No. Take them with you. Keep our people shielded and get someone in the air looking for a path. Go.’

  Ulysan came trotting up with the prisoner.

  ‘What do you want to do with him?’

  ‘Merrat, I think he’s yours. Keep him alive if you can. Go with Stein — have your cell scout a path.’

  Merrat nodded and took the shivering mage from Ulysan, staring at him with cold eyes.

  There was a heavy detonation from the direction of the woodland. Auum spun about. The Julatsan cavalry was broken: he saw ten horses on the ground, only another eight or so still standing and half of those galloping away from the spell that had crashed into them. The enemy cavalry wheeled and came again, but this time straight at the main group of survivors.

  ‘Tais to me!’ shouted Auum. ‘Merrat, Stein, go!’

  Julatsan spells soared out over the heads of the TaiGethen, striking the enemy cavalry. Mages and soldiers were moving out of the woodland and spells fizzed across shields. Auum swore and ran hard down the slope, TaiGethen to either side of him. He took a quick glance, counting thirty or so. He prayed that was not all he had left.

  The horsemen came on, looking to skirt the attacking TaiGethen. Simultaneously, enemy mages were preparing new castings and continuing their advance behind a line of swordsmen.

  ‘Speed!’ called Auum. ‘Get among the horsemen.’

  Auum switched into the shetharyn and powered towards the group of forty or so cavalry, which was on a curving gallop towards the flank of the group gathering itself to head into the foothills of the Blackthorne Mountains. Where a running man might look to Auum as if he was wading through mud, a horse still had some pace. Even so, the cavalry would not reach the survivors.

  Auum felt a thrill across his body as he turned into a tight curving run. He could hear the steady fall of horses’ hooves on the ground and feel them through the soles of his feet each time they kissed the earth. He was aware of men and mages behind him, loosing arrows and spells, but none would touch him or his TaiGethen.

  With Ulysan vying for the lead until Duele scorched past them both, Auum closed on the cavalry fast. Grafyrre’s and Faleen’s cells were both in close attendance.

  ‘Spread through them,’ called Auum. ‘Let’s make this quick.’

  Auum surged up, passing Duele, who laughed and drew a blade. One of the riders looked round to see the thirty elves gaining on them with every stride. His mouth dropped open. He yelled something incomprehensible and slammed his spurs into his horse’s flanks.

  He was too late, far too late. Auum ran between two horses, his blades in his hands, and stabbed up into the waist of each rider. One fell outwards, the other in. Auum didn’t wa
it to see if they were dead, either the fall or other TaiGethen would finish them. The riderless horses turned aside, already slowing but still following their kin. Auum moved on.

  Next to him Duele vaulted onto the back of a horse, grabbed its rider by the head and cut his throat, casting the body down and to the right. Then he stood in the saddle and launched himself full length at another. Auum watched him take the man clean out of his saddle.

  Auum’s next targets had swords drawn and ready, their attention on him, not ahead. Both leaned out of their saddles, waiting for him to attack, and Auum steadied his pace. Ulysan came to the side of one and sliced through the rider’s girth strap, barely nicking the horse’s flank. The man plunged to the ground, his sword snapping in the earth and his head staved in by the rear hoof of his comrade’s mount.

  Auum switched to the other side of the second horse, seeing Ulysan duck left after another target. The rider saw him and tried to bring his blade across to strike. It was a half-hearted blow which Auum blocked with his left-hand blade, then he dragged the man off his horse, hurdling the body as it crashed to the ground.

  The front rank of cavalry, ten strong, was further ahead. Beyond them Auum could see the Il-Aryn lined up, some of them anyway, their hands linked and their heads bowed. The horsemen closed on them quickly; the TaiGethen would only just reach them in time. The captain raised his sword, urging his men on for the final gallop. All had blades cocked overhead in an identical position, ready to sweep down as they broke across the Il-Aryn.

  Some fifteen strides before they would be hit, the Il-Aryn raised their heads as one. The air quality changed, became heavy and thick, or so it felt. Auum dropped out of the shetharyn, seeing many of his TaiGethen do the same. There was a gleam in the air, like a line of horizontal light. It flashed towards the cavalry, sweeping over the horses’ heads and straight through their riders.

  Auum blinked, making sure he had seen it right. Every man had dropped from his saddle, leaving the horses to slow naturally. There was a mist of blood in the air. Several severed arms thudded to the ground, thumping dully into the mud and grass to land among the sliced parts of skulls and whole heads that had pattered down.

  Auum shook his head and turned back to the woodland and the advancing foot soldiers.

  ‘Tais to me,’ he called.

  The TaiGethen gathered around him. Ahead of them the enemy had halted, perhaps not understanding what they had seen but knowing for certain that they had just witnessed forty cavalry on galloping horses slaughtered by elven warriors and magic.

  ‘Spread out and advance,’ said Auum.

  In front of them were more than three hundred men and mages, and there were more in the shadows. Auum could see some of them looking past his warriors to the rise. Auum glanced behind him and saw the Il-Aryn moving up, flanked by more TaiGethen. There were Julatsan mages shadowing them from the air.

  Outnumbered by ten to one and more, the TaiGethen had no realistic chance, but the humans had lost the stomach for the fight, for now at least. They had lost their cavalry cover and, worse, they could see Julatsan riders rounding up their horses, no doubt to use against them.

  On a word from their commander, they melted back into the forest.

  ‘That’ll do,’ said Auum. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 21

  In time, and sooner than you think, all elven adepts will train in Julatsa because the skill of the Il-Aryn relies in too great a measure on an elf who, in my opinion, will not be capable of working much longer.

  Kerela, Julatsan Mage Council

  Kerela was uncomfortable under Communion with anyone from Xetesk, but Bynaar was a particularly difficult contact. She had agreed to take the communication only because Sipharec was unwell and confined to his bed.

  ‘You have done well,’ said Bynaar, pausing very slightly before his last word. ‘You harboured hidden strengths, I understand.’

  Something about his mind, or the way he delivered his thoughts, made her squirm where she sat in a deep chair in her chambers.

  ‘It pays to build relationships. The elves of Calaius were always likely to help us when they heard Balaia was in trouble.’

  ‘I had no idea they were so altruistic,’ said Bynaar.

  ‘They understand the threat the Wytch Lords pose to us all,’ said Kerela.

  ‘Yes. .’ Bynaar paused. ‘Your native elven magic. . It is an unusual style. I would be fascinated to read the lore one day, or have one of your practitioners explain some of the finer points to me.’

  ‘I can imagine they’ll be falling all over themselves to be the chosen one,’ said Kerela.

  ‘I should imagine,’ said Bynaar, her sarcasm going straight over his head.

  Kerela scratched at an itch on her abdomen; it was another symptom of Communion.

  ‘You were about to brief me on the progress of the war,’ said Kerela.

  There was another pause.

  ‘Understone Pass is holding firm even though the Wytch Lords bring more of their power to bear every day. We have reports of Wesman parties all across Balaia, mostly scouting, but they do damage by their very presence, and none of us has the spare capacity to send out hunters, do we?’

  ‘We do not.’

  ‘Tell me, Kerela, how sure are you of successfully holding off another Wesman assault?’

  ‘Alone, you mean?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘We are fully committed both at home and at the pass,’ blustered Bynaar. ‘Your tone is not appreciated.’

  ‘Neither was your lack of support. It was lucky the TaiGethen came when they did.’

  ‘Quite. But they are gone now, are they not?’

  ‘Heading to the pass to join the fight, yes. Just as we promised.’

  ‘Good. . good. So, your strength in Julatsa, is it enough without them?’

  ‘Our walls are being repaired; we can invest strength back in them, and we still have a considerable force of mages and militia. But should the Wesmen come again in greater numbers, we would be tested. Why, do you have information?’

  Another pause, this one so long that Kerela wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

  ‘We grow ever more concerned that the invasion will change its focus and our coastlines will be beset. You are at most immediate risk if that happens. Our information is patchy but it points to you needing to stay where you are and keep your college safe while we try to stave off anything that comes at us from the south in addition to defending the pass. Difficult days, Kerela.’

  ‘Surely they will bypass you if they can and head straight for the Manse? I always wondered why those who attacked us didn’t simply go there and make it their own.’

  ‘That is why we must be mindful of such an attack,’ said Bynaar. ‘Remember how much the Wytch Lords want Dawnthief. The Wesmen are never happier when than trying to destroy magic, no?’

  She could imagine him chuckling to himself about that one.

  ‘You have been in recent contact with your team at the Manse, I take it?’

  ‘My dear lady, it is a daily occurrence, as you must know,’ he said a little too quickly.

  ‘Then you know of the problems we have had contacting our own representatives there. Lystern have the same issues. Strange that your people are still communicating when ours cannot.’

  His silence was cold. ‘Your implication is beneath contempt.’

  ‘Then prove to me that they are still at the Manse. Still alive.’

  ‘I would not lower myself to do any such thing. Your team, your problem.’

  ‘And there I was thinking we were all working together. Last time we spoke to our people, they felt close to a breakthrough. Funny how we heard nothing more, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is not something I can explain, nor feel duty bound to investigate. Now is that all?’

  ‘No, it is not. You told me our Il-Aryn had an unusual style. How could you possibly know that all the way from Xetesk?’

  ‘Don’t be naive. It is no concern of mine that you
have no people embedded here. We have not made the same error. Give my regards to Sipharec. May he recover quickly.’

  The contact was broken and Kerela’s relief was instant and wonderful. She drank off a goblet of heavy red wine.

  ‘Lying bastard,’ she said.

  There was a knock on her door.

  ‘Yes?’ she called. One of the Communion chamber mages poked her head around the door. ‘Yniss bless you, Syvra, you look tired. What is it? Bynaar has gone, if you wanted him.’

  ‘No, but thank you. I’ll pass that on. We have another who wants to speak to you rather urgently. Can I give him permission to Commune with you?’

  ‘Who is he and is he one of ours?’

  ‘Yes, and he would not give his name. His lore is Julatsan, he is genuine.’

  ‘Then yes, have him contact me.’

  Kerela settled back in her chair, awaiting the intrusion of Communion contact. When it came, all her growing suspicions were realised.

  It was Stein.

  Auum couldn’t muster any anger, consumed as he was by an overwhelming sadness. He had looked about him once the survivor group had got as far up into the foothills as they could for the day and had shaken his head at the truly pitiful band they had become.

  Forty-three TaiGethen were still able to fight, plus a further seven seriously wounded, burned or with limbs broken or blown off entirely. At least four of them would not survive, even with castings. Seventy-eight Il-Aryn had survived but fourteen carried injuries and eight of those were unlikely to survive. The Julatsan cavalry was entirely gone, barring one young man whom Auum was delighted to see smile: Tilman. He had burns on his face and hands but he was not broken, and castings would heal him. Finally, just twenty-nine Julatsan-trained elves were walking. Another twelve were alive but struggling. Most of them would die.

  It was an appalling result; thirty-two TaiGethen dead, murdered by magic; twenty-six Il-Aryn gone in mere instants, helpless against a greater power; thirty-seven Julatsan elves immolated or dismembered by castings they themselves studied but had failed to detect; forty-nine cavalrymen downed by spell or blade.