Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (21 page)

Auum ran from the gatehouse, jumped down the steps to the ramparts, where Ollem was waiting for him, and sprinted along behind the nervous defenders. He heard another order from Harild. There
was a brief pressure of human magical power across his shoulders before a volley of bright yellow orbs of fire soared out from behind the gates, trailing smoke and plunging into the ground just in
front of the foremost Wesmen.

The multiple detonations ripped up the ground and scattered fire in every direction, slowing the advance of the enemy centre, but they flooded forward undaunted elsewhere across the line,
howling and roaring.

Now was when they missed Drech. The Il-Aryn were leaderless under their reluctant figurehead Ephemere, whose voice was quiet and had no carry. To the right of the gatehouse, Auum didn’t
even know the name of the nominated leader.

‘Deploy the barrier,’ ordered Auum. ‘Keep their fire from our rampart.’

More arrows flicked out, meeting a wall of shields with only a few finding gaps. A couple of warriors fell. A second volley of orbs drove into the ground outside the gates. This time they struck
flesh, wood and leather. Wesmen were hurled backwards and sideways, wreathed in fire. Ladders were reduced to ash.

‘More!’ yelled Auum. ‘Target the ladders. Cast! Cast!’

Beside him three mages were standing and preparing. Below, the Wesmen were scant yards from the wall. Ladders were raised ready to be laid against the stone. Arrows flew thick from the walls
while Wesmen archers knelt, nocked shafts and fired.

‘Down!’

Wesmen arrows struck home, punching mages and human archers from the walls.

‘Get fire on the archers!’ Auum stood. ‘Look for the shamen.’

Along his section of the wall, his TaiGethen were marshalling those around them as best they could. The mages next to Auum cast, and a wall of flame sixty feet long sprang up in the midst of the
advancing line. Wesmen dived in all directions, some wrapped in flame and screaming. More and more spells were flying down from the walls now. Wesman shields raised in defence were frozen by gales
of super-cooled air. Flechettes of ice sliced into unprotected flesh and ripped through leather armour.

But still they came. Ladders thudded against the wall in ten places . . . fifteen. Julatsan defenders fired down on the climbers while the TaiGethen stood ready to receive them. The second
Wesman line slowed twenty yards from the walls. Shields were raised and, in among them, there was quick movement.

‘Shamen preparing!’ yelled Auum, but his warning was a moment too late. ‘Where’s my barrier? Get down!’

Hands stretched beyond the shields sent black fire from every fingertip. The tendrils scoured the top of the ramparts. Mage, Il-Aryn, TaiGethen and soldier alike were caught in the storm. Fire
wormed into bodies and faces, searing and drilling deep, piercing hearts and ripping open stomachs. Wherever it struck flesh, the fire fed greedily. Defenders fell by the dozen, some dead before
they hit the ground.

Auum rose and drew a blade, holding it in his right hand. Ulysan moved ahead of him, Ollem behind. Wesman warriors reached the tops of ladders. Axes swung and more defenders fell. The TaiGethen
surged into the attack. Spells showered out into the attackers, driving the second line back a few paces.

Auum had almost reached the head of a ladder. It vibrated with the movement of climbers on its rungs. The first Wesman over the top hacked his axe into the head of a soldier too slow to bring
his blade to bear. In front of Auum, Ulysan thrust his blade into the Wesman’s chest and he fell.

Another two appeared and, between them, an archer with an arrow nocked. He released, Auum swayed right and the arrow fizzed past him. Behind him, Ollem grunted and Auum turned to see him drop to
his knees, the shaft jutting from his neck. Blood was flooding down his jacket.

‘Ollem!’

‘Fight,’ said Ollem, his voice thick with blood. ‘I’ll be all right.’

Auum swung back. Ulysan evaded an axe, ducking under the blade and rising fast. Ulysan’s blades sliced into the Wesman’s gut and face and he tumbled forward. Auum stepped up and
jabbed his blade into the archer’s face, tipping him back off the ladder. The other warrior thrust his sword at Auum’s body. Auum jumped back and left, coming in again hard,
back-handing his blade into the neck of the enemy.

Still they came. Shaman fire laced across the top of the walls again, driving defenders back and leaving the way clear for yet more ladders and Wesmen. Auum wanted to roar for his barrier again
but it was obvious why it wasn’t going to happen. TaiGethen defending the Il-Aryn were moving them back away from immediate threat and indeed some were being directed to ladders to the ground
to leave more space for fighting.

Auum glanced at Ollem and thought to call for help, but the young TaiGethen was still and his chest had stopped rising. Auum felt a hot anger settle on him.

‘He never had a chance,’ muttered Auum. ‘Too young, too strong to die like this . . .’

‘Auum!’ screamed Ulysan.

Auum snapped round. Ulysan was fighting two Wesmen. The rampart seemed to be full of them. A blade was swinging towards Auum’s head. He used his anger and the threat alike. The axe head
slowed before his eyes. He rocked back on his heels, simultaneously bringing his blade to ready.

The look of triumph in the Wesman’s eyes faded. The blade moved past Auum and on to collide with a crenellation. Auum moved forward, pushed the warrior’s head back with his weaker
left hand and rammed his blade into his throat.

Auum dragged the blade clear, stepped over the falling body and headed for the ladder. A Wesman archer released a shaft, taking a soldier further along the wall through the shoulder. Auum
grabbed his bow and pulled hard, heaving the Wesman onto the rampart, then stamped down on the back of his neck, moved on and buried his blade in the flank of another axe man, pushing the body over
the wall, where it fell as a warning among his comrades.

Auum reached Ulysan, dropping out of the shetharyn. Ulysan ripped a blade into the gut of a warrior and heaved his body over the wall. Either side of them TaiGethen and Julatsan soldiers fought
to clear the walls of Wesmen and defend the mages.

Spells were still firing out from behind the gates but elsewhere both arrow fire and castings were desultory. The shamen’s black fire played across the crenellations, daring the defenders
to expose themselves to fire down.

‘We’ve got to force the shamen back,’ said Auum, ducking as a finger of black fire flickered on the stone a pace from where he stood. ‘Suggestions?’

More Wesmen ascended the ladder, flanked by shaman fire. Ulysan round-housed the first, catching him on the side of the head and clattering him into the next. Black fire reached for the big
TaiGethen, who dropped to his haunches, the tendrils clutching above his head. Both Wesmen fell.

‘Get the mages onto the ground and casting blind over the walls,’ said Ulysan.

Arrows flicked over the ramparts. Defenders responded, firing blind from behind crenellations. The Wesmen were relentless, though. Thirty yards to the left they’d established a bridgehead
and were forcing the defenders back. Auum saw soldiers fall and Faleen lead her Tai into the breach.

‘It’ll take too long. Got to create a diversion.’

The two elves stared at each other. ‘Cavalry.’

‘Hold!’ yelled Auum to any who would hear him. Hassek nodded his assent and took his Tai directly to a new ladder laid against the walls.

Auum ran back towards the gatehouse, ducking arrows and black fire and forcing his way through knots of fighting. He climbed the stairs three at a time and took a breath when he ducked through
the door. Dead littered the gatehouse. Eyes were burned out, arrows stuck from chests and throats. Harild was crouched below the lip of the wall, glancing over and ducking back, roaring orders lost
in the tumult. Black fire chased Auum and Ulysan down next to him alongside two aides, both of whom were too terrified to be of any use.

‘Can’t stop the Wytch fire,’ growled Harild.

‘How’s the right holding?’

‘Holding is all they’re doing, Auum. I’m sending mages down but it’s confused. They have no lines of communication. Stein is somewhere down there but I’ve lost my
Communion mage. One shaman gives them ten fingers of fire at this range. They’re murdering us.’

‘We have to distract them,’ said Auum. ‘Get your cavalry in the saddle. Ride out through the centre and don’t stop. Then circle wide so you can hit the rear.’

‘They’ll pick the riders right out of their saddles. It’s suicide.’

‘No, it isn’t. Cast left and right as the gates open. Ride hard for open ground.’

‘What about your precious Il-Aryn?’

Auum was stung. ‘I don’t know why they haven’t cast.’

‘Perfect.’

‘But the TaiGethen will not leave the cavalry defenceless. We’re going out too.’

Harild frowned. ‘Through the gates?’

‘No,’ said Auum. ‘Look to your cavalry. We’ll be ready.’

‘Now?’

‘Now.’ Auum stared at Harild. ‘You are brave beyond duty. A third human I actually like.’

Harild smiled. ‘Well, then this whole mess is worth the pain. You’ll be ready?’

‘Before you,’ said Ulysan.

They watched Harild reach safety on the rampart steps down to the ground. Auum sent Ulysan to the right-hand door of the gatehouse, and he reported back a mirror image of Auum’s view of
the left.

‘The TaiGethen are spread too thin and we’ve lost some. The Wesmen are attacking on a wide front. We’re barely holding them back. Mages are heading for the ladders, Il-Aryn
too.’

Auum leaned out of the back of the gatehouse. Ephemere was down there looking lost and frightened.

‘Ephemere! Ephemere!’ Belatedly, she looked up. ‘Report to Harild. Gather your Il-Aryn. Get a barrier up when the gates open.’

‘The gates?’ she said, her voice barely carrying.

‘Just do it. Do something! For the love of Yniss, we need you.’ Auum turned back to Ulysan. ‘Get out to the right. Have as many ready as you can. Wait for the castings and the
cavalry before we move.’

‘And who’s going to save your sorry hide?’

Auum laughed. ‘I’ll run with Graf, you with Merrat. See you out there and may Yniss save you for greater tasks.’

‘Like saving your sorry hide.’

‘Precisely. Go.’

Auum leaped down to the rampart, feeling exposed without Ulysan by his side. He had been a constant presence for over eight hundred years and a friend for thousands. Ulysan was an extension of
Auum – utterly indispensable.

He pushed the weakness from his mind and headed along the rampart, sword in his right hand. The Wesmen were attacking on a front almost two hundred yards wide. From the gatehouse he’d seen
almost thirty ladders. Where the TaiGethen cells fought, the Wesmen could not gain a foothold but at four other points they were making solid ground and the Julatsan soldiers were beginning to
wither under their onslaught. Fighting with their backs against a drop of thirty feet should they slip, they were losing ground steadily.

Auum spared a quick glance below. The cavalry was mounting up. Horses stamped and snorted, sweat flecked flanks and leaked from beneath saddles. Metal rang echoes against the gates, a
counterpoint to the shaman magic picking at the timbers.

Auum had to make the end of the rampart before the gates opened in order to alert his Tais to the new plan – two hundred yards through packed fighting. He had one blade, one damaged arm,
two feet and no Ulysan. He took a deep breath.

‘This is going to be interesting.’

Auum sought the shetharyn. It was there but he would not be able to hold it for long. He hefted his blade, leaned forward to hide himself from arrow and magic as best he could and ran hard
alongside the crenellations, wishing he’d hurt his right arm instead.

Ahead, Thrynn’s Tai fought well: no Wesman had gained the rampart. Auum shot into their midst and smashed his sword into the skull of a warrior on the ladder. He paused, ducking behind the
wall.

‘We’re going over. Follow the cavalry, use your speed. Trust in Yniss.’

Auum blurred away. Ahead the rampart was blocked. Two soldiers were falling back, one stood firm in a wide stance. Auum dropped and slid between his legs, rising and jamming his blade into the
groin of a Wesman. He pulled it clear, thrust it into the chest of the warrior in front of him and leaped high, dragging his blade clear and turning a forward roll in the air over the heads of the
fight. Auum landed, ran on two paces, jumped with legs outstretched and hammered both feet into the head of an enemy archer. He rode the falling body, and straight-punched another with his left
hand, knocking him on to Hassek’s blade. Auum delivered the same message on his way past. Dimly, he heard the gates begin to crank open. He sped on, watching the fight unfold before his eyes:
every blow, every spray of blood, every pace and every scream of fear or pain. Auum jumped clear over Marack’s head, yelled his message and landed with his legs around the neck of a Wesman on
the wall. Auum flexed his back, dragging the axe man down to the parapet floor, leaping clear as he struck the timbers. He powered on, forcing his way along the wall at a crouch, now sliding on his
back through a press of legs. His blade was running with blood, his passage spreading confusion among attacker and Julatsan soldier alike. His left arm ached and he felt fresh blood oozing from the
wound in his shoulder. Almost there. He jumped high, spinning horizontally to take him over a press of Wesmen and landing crouched behind them in a breath of space. He jabbed his blade backwards
into the calf of one, turned and sliced through the hamstrings of another. Delivered the same message to Vaart’s Tai. Auum raced along the rampart behind two more cells, angling his body out
over the drop and forcing himself to even greater speed. Same message. He powered on, his eyes picking the clearest route, his sword now fending off bodies as he passed. Duck, slide, sprint, jump.
He felt his breath shorten as fatigue began to take hold. Grafyrre’s Tai was ahead and the ladder in front of them was clear, the ground below littered with Wesmen bodies. The timbers were
slick with blood and the stink of it made his eyes water. Auum ran in hard and dropped out of the shetharyn. He was out of breath and put his hands on his knees.