Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 18

Gilderon moved and the Senserii moved with him. Each knew his place in the circle enclosing Takaar. The mages melted back, some of them preparing castings. The Protectors ran forward, each one hefting his weapons easily. They outnumbered the Senserii two to one.

Gilderon twirled his staff, adding to the whistling sound of his brothers’ staffs, the blades at either end glittering in the firelight.

‘Takaar, please, a barrier.’

‘Why would they attack us? We came to warn them!’

‘Takaar,’ insisted Gilderon. ‘Focus.’

The Protectors surged in, each man working seamlessly with those to either side.

‘Defend and assess!’ called Gilderon.

An axe swept in head high. Gilderon’s ikari deflected the heavy blow, his body adapting to the impact. A sword thrust to the stomach followed it. Gilderon moved his staff fast in front of him, knocking it past his left flank. The Protector did not stumble. A third blow came from another Protector. Gilderon ducked, then jumped high to avoid the follow-up.

There was no pause. Gilderon found himself assailed by three. His ikari blocked, turned and caught blows. No time to look at any but his flanking brothers, who were coping though the onslaught was heavy and relentless. These men would not tire quickly.

‘Takaar!’ he shouted, snapping his staff left across his face and then right across his torso, clearing two blows. ‘A barrier.’

‘They can’t cast,’ said Takaar vaguely. ‘They have nothing left. We need to talk, not fight. I’ll speak to them.’

‘Stand fast,’ said Gilderon. He caught a massive double overhead strike on his staff, holding it at arm’s length in front of his face. ‘Cast. If you want to live, cast.’

‘Of course I want to live. I have never contemplated death.’

Gilderon ignored him. ‘Senserii, engage to kill. Put them down.’

Gilderon ducked a swinging axe, levelled his staff and jabbed it forward, catching a protector in the midriff. He moved a pace back to free the blade. Blows came in from left and right. Gilderon rolled, his staff horizontal across his body. The blows struck the ground behind him.

The injured Protector loomed above him. Gilderon switched his staff to the vertical, jabbed a blade into the ground and swung round it, thumping his feet hard into the Protector’s chest. The man fell back. Gilderon followed him, plucking his staff clear of the ground and whipping the bloodied blade into the Protector’s right eye slit.

The Protector collapsed back, making no sound. Gilderon dragged the blade clear, spun on his heels and fended away blows to both flanks. He struck out left, feeling the blade skewer muscle and hearing a grunt from his target. He struck right, low and fast, the blade slicing into the thigh of another.

In the moment’s pause he stepped back, reforming the circle. He spun again, his staff across his chest. Two Protectors came at him. One delivered a blow wide left without looking, deflecting another Senserii staff as it arrowed towards its target. The Protector’s other weapon came at him incredibly quickly. Gilderon fenced it away, feeling a whip of air pass his ear. He circled his staff above his head and brought it down two-handed towards the same Protector’s skull. The axe from the other knocked his blow aside.

They were good, very good.

‘How many down!’ he called. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Four enemies,’ came the reply between the clash and spark of weapons, the thud of blade on mud and the whispering of feet over the ground. ‘Silasin is wounded.’

‘Keep strong, Yniss is our guide,’ said Gilderon.

Three Protectors bore down on him. Their blows came in a flurry, well directed and with great power. Gilderon weaved his ikari in front of him. An axe slid away left, two swords cracked into the centre of his staff, driving him briefly to his haunches. He snapped the staff to the vertical to fend off another axe and bent his back almost to the horizontal to evade a third axe. He spun left and the last sword bit into the ground.

‘There are too many of them,’ muttered Gilderon.

He straightened to field the next assault. Next to him Silasin was struggling. He had a deep cut on one leg which was pumping out blood and one eye had been closed by a heavy punch from a sword pommel.

‘It’s like fighting a six-armed man!’ called Helodian behind him.

And it was. Protectors moved forward, driving the Senserii back. Gilderon jabbed, his thrust batted away by the flat of an axe.

‘Hold firm,’ shouted Gilderon. ‘They will tire, we will not. Takaar, you have to do something!’

But Gilderon could see they weren’t going to tire quickly enough. Beyond them mages were ready to cast. Unless something changed, they wouldn’t be needed.

Takaar was sitting on the ground. He rubbed his chin and wiped at an eye.

‘This noise is intolerable,’ he said, wondering why there was such a clashing and shouting all around him. He looked up and saw the Senserii surrounding him. ‘I can hardly hear myself think.’

Normally, that would be a good thing.

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

I mean that you not thinking is normally the best state, but at the moment it might prove disastrous.

There was a change in the tone of his tormentor’s voice. Less of the strident proclamations or whispered words of warning about all the betrayals around him and almost, well. .

‘Are you scared?’ asked Takaar, smiling to himself. ‘You are, aren’t you?’

When presented with the real possibility of death, I find that I wish to cling on to life for the moment.

‘Are you going to die?’

All that you dreamed of when you heard about Dawnthief is about to disappear. Your Senserii are not able to hold these Protectors for long. You aren’t looking, I am. If you want to find the spell and do what must be done then you need to help them. Gilderon has been calling on you.

‘He does not believe in me.’

But he still wants to protect you. Now do something.

Now that he came to think about it, he did recall Gilderon saying a few things, but in all the noise he hadn’t really heard them. And there was a strange tenor to the calls of the Senserii as they worked their ikari. They were getting closer to Takaar and he didn’t really want anyone near him at the moment.

Well then. .

‘Hush. Let me think.’

Takaar looked up into the dark sky, into which smoke and glowing embers spiralled. There was a flood of energy all around them too and he luxuriated in it for a moment. It was the human magical aura, and when it was focused, as now, it was a truly glorious sight.

Dark blue shapes revolved and modulated in the hands or over the heads of the Xeteskian mages. Bold spheres, rotating helixes, spiked geometric shapes. . all beautiful in their way but shot through with vicious power. But it was the human warriors who really caught his eye. They were sheathed in mana, tendrils of the energy binding one to another. A thick cord of it sprang from the back of each man’s neck too, joined in the sky above them and twisted into a great pulsing rope that trailed away out of sight to the west.

‘Amazing,’ said Takaar. ‘An element of such glorious strength and versatility.’

It was quite at odds with the core energies of the Il-Aryn but it was an element nonetheless. On Calaius it had always seemed a random, fleeting force. Here, moulded by humans, it was a thing of enormous power. Takaar smiled; so much the better because elements could be isolated and therefore they could also be excluded.

‘What an opportunity for experimentation,’ said Takaar.

Dimly, he heard a cry of pain and another shout from Gilderon. The clashing of weapons closed on him further and he felt uncomfortable. He needed them all to go away. He should probably help make that happen.

Do it.

Takaar did it.

Gilderon was breathing hard. His balance was still forward but he was being driven back by the relentless heavy strikes from the Protectors. They were an extraordinary force. One on one, elves would prevail, but here, with their superior numbers, they were more or less unstoppable.

‘Keep yourselves tight,’ called Gilderon. ‘Silasin, speak. Are you secure?’

Sword strokes battered against his staff. Gilderon blocked and turned them away as well as he could. The weight of each blow sapped his strength and he could no longer get close enough to strike back. Not without leaving Silasin exposed. He knew other Protectors had been downed, and while no other Senserii was wounded yet, they were losing this fight. Mistakes would happen as fatigue set in.

‘My leg is heavy, ‘said Silasin. ‘I’m weakening.’

‘Teralion, defend Silasin’s left. I have his right,’ said Gilderon. ‘Takaar, please, help us.’

The Protectors stepped up as one man, crowding the space. A rain of blows fell. Gilderon swayed left, deflecting an axe down into the mud as swords came at Silasin. Gilderon punched one aside with the tip of his staff before catching an axe full on the shaft.

Teralion swept his staff over Silasin’s head, just catching the top of a sword, which glanced off a bladed tip. Meanwhile Silasin was driven to his knees by a trio of blows aimed at his head. Teralion moved his staff in front of him to block axe and sword sweeps and Silasin tried to stand and force himself some space.

Gilderon moved half a pace towards him, seeing his injured leg trembling and ready to give. As one, the Protectors pressed their advantage. Both Gilderon and Teralion were forced to defend themselves, and while they could not aid Silasin two Protectors attacked him in concert, one slicing down and forcing him to block high, the other swinging an axe at his midriff. Silasin’s bad leg conspired against him. He couldn’t rock back in time and the axe sliced cleanly through his gut, spilling his entrails across the ground. Silasin screamed and fell.

‘Close up!’ ordered Gilderon. ‘Takaar!’

The suddenness with which the situation transformed took Gilderon’s breath away. He felt a change in the air, a cessation of movement and a fall in temperature, or that was how it seemed to him. There was a brief silence before the mages beyond the ring of Protectors shouted. He couldn’t understand the language but their emotions transcended words, and they were panic and alarm.

In front of him the Protectors had stopped. Confusion was evident in the stances they took. One or two seemed unbalanced, taking paces back or to the side. Weapons dropped, and the eyes that stared at him through narrow slits held loss. This chance could be gone in a heartbeat.

‘Attack!’ called Gilderon.

He surged forward, slashing the end of his ikari across the throat of the Protector in front of him. The man’s weapons dropped from his hands and he clutched at his neck, sagging to the ground, his shouts drowned in his blood. The Senserii had followed his lead and thirteen more Protectors were dead. The rest broke from their confusion, raised their weapons and moved back to ready.

But they were just men alone now. Whatever Takaar had taken from them made them vulnerable and they knew it. Gilderon moved left, smashed his staff into a Protector’s chin and sliced a blade into his chest, cutting through his leather armour and deep into flesh and muscle.

The Protector grunted. His weapons moved fast in his defence. Gilderon ducked a flailing axe blade and swayed inside the follow-up sword thrust. The Protector pulled back. Gilderon feinted to smack the body of his staff into the enemy’s chin again but instead swung his weapon about and jabbed a blade up under his chin to skewer his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

No longer did Gilderon have to worry about the attacks of men seemingly able to strike without looking. Takaar’s casting had been devastating, and after their initial attack the Senserii now fought one on one. Confidence energised them. Their enemies retained all of their power and speed but not their ungodly reaction time.

Gilderon switched his grip and reversed a blade into the cheek of a Protector, ripping his mask. The man fell back, the rawness of his face revealed, and the Senserii’s curiosity overcame him. He moved up fast, cracking his staff into the back of the Protector’s legs, dropping him to his knees.

Gilderon moved in close, hands at the top of his staff and sliced through the straps securing the mask. It fell to the ground. The Protector turned a momentary hate-filled glare on him, showing him the sores and weals on his face, before his eyes bulged in terror and he roared his fear, snatched up the mask and ran. The fight was won.

The mages and researchers had gathered in three loose groups, the former trying desperately to cast. The fleeing Protector, yelling something unintelligible at the sky, burst through one group, scattering men in all directions, and carried on running until, quite suddenly, he fell to the ground screaming, his hands clutching at his chest until his body slowly ceased to thrash.

Undefended, transfixed by the scene and unable to believe what they had witnessed, the mages and researchers stood mute. Some were clearly contemplating running, but, at a nod from Gilderon, the Senserii surrounded them. It was a loose corral, fourteen elves hemming in forty humans, but the blood and bodies of the Protectors were ample deterrent against any escape attempt.

‘Takaar,’ said Gilderon, trotting over to where the mad master sat cross-legged, deep in his casting. ‘We have them.’