Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 34

The wards did terrible damage. While Sentaya’s Wesmen sheltered inside the stockade, sending prayers to their spirits and cursing human magic, their enemies had run headlong into the wide arc of wards Stein had placed to encircle the village and had made active when all were either inside or gone south for safety.

Explosions reverberated through the ground and howling flames glared in the sky. Tribesmen were slaughtered in large numbers and Auum saw the sense of injustice burning bright in Sentaya’s eyes.

‘I should not have allowed you to do this,’ the Wesman chief said, his face taut and the muscles of his neck corded and proud under his skin. ‘Now human magic stains my hands. These are my brethren, the people I wish to rule, and they will not forget this day.’

Outside the advance had halted, the roaring charge losing all impetus to be replaced by wails of pain, the cries of dying warriors and the crackle of multiple fires.

‘Think, my Lord Sentaya,’ said Stein. ‘They are nine hundred blades, outnumbering you six to one. No one doubts your courage or skill but those odds are not survivable. What your subjects won’t forget is how you faced the Wytch Lord, Ystormun, and won, and how some chose black fire to further their own selfish ambition.’

Sentaya knew Stein was right, but Auum could see him wrestling with himself, for a moment unable to provide the leadership his warriors needed. Some were frightened, some angry, and none relished what was being done in their name.

‘They’re advancing again,’ called Thrynn from her perch on a barn overlooking the field. ‘The shamen are moving up closer behind their warriors. It’s a slow advance to the last line of wards.’

Auum could hear orders carried on the breeze and feel the vibration of marching feet through the ground.

‘I need a distance countdown,’ said Auum.

They were as ready as they would ever be. A line of warriors, mainly Sentaya’s, stood ten paces back from the stockade ready to attack the moment it was breached, to engage and to break off in an attempt to bring the enemy into the village. The rest of the force was scattered in and around the buildings, much to Sentaya’s dismay.

‘We need chaos, not line on line, or we’ll lose,’ Auum had said. Sentaya had wanted to lead his warriors in a charge.

Stein’s mages were set behind the warrior line, sending shivers down the spines of the Wesmen, who had sworn never to turn their backs on human magic. And the Il-Aryn were in three groups, charged with providing as much defence as they could muster against the black fire as the warriors charged. Beyond that, planning was pointless.

‘Seventy-five,’ called Thrynn.

‘Closing on the obscurement ward grid,’ said Stein,

‘I wish those had all been fire walls now,’ said Ulysan.

‘Stamina is a finite thing. This was the best we could do in the time,’ said Stein a little testily.

‘Just saying,’ said Ulysan.

‘Isn’t it time you went to your place?’ said Stein.

‘I think you’ll find my place is next to Auum. Always has been.’

Auum held up his hands. ‘Will you two stop it? What is this?’

‘Sixty-five,’ called Thrynn. ‘Wards in five.’

‘It’s called bickering,’ said Stein. ‘It’s what brothers do.’

Ulysan enveloped him in a bear hug and gave him a big wet kiss. Stein pushed him away and wiped at his cheek.

‘That’s disgusting,’ he said.

‘It’s for luck,’ said Ulysan.

‘Does he do that before every battle?’ asked Stein.

Auum shook his head. ‘It’s a first.’

‘I’m. . honoured.’

‘Just get casting,’ said Ulysan.

A series of dull thuds was heard. With the triggering of the first ward, the rest followed in sequence. Thick oily dark grey smoke spread in all directions like the deepest of winter fogs, rising thirty feet into the sky.

‘Go, go!’ called Sentaya.

His forty or so archers ran through gaps opened in the stockade on the three land-facing sides of the village. The Julatsans followed, already preparing spells. In the village the Il-Aryn began their work, ready for the inevitable.

‘Speak to me, Thrynn.’

‘Nothing to see, Auum. The smoke is too thick. Arrows are flying into it all across the arc. Spells away too. .’

Auum saw them go as well as the black shafts of arrows, twenty orbs of fire trailing smoke and plunging out of sight just before impact. Auum closed his eyes. Like the wards, the Wesmen would not have seen them coming. More arrows shot across the gap. A handful were returned, but such was the confusion within the smoke that nearly all were poorly directed, falling harmlessly towards the lake or even back down among their own.

Above the smoke huge drops of fire began to fall from the clouded sky. Auum scanned across the arc of the attack front. Like burning leaves falling in a rainforest fire, they tumbled into the fog. And like many of Gyal’s tears, the fire rain was torrential but short-lived.

Auum shuddered. How many were perishing blinded by the smoke and with claws of fire digging into their heads and backs? Again orders were ringing out above the sounds of pain. Still they had order and courage, and Auum could only respect them for that.

‘I see figures!’ called Thrynn. ‘Smoke thinning at thirty yards.’

‘Back inside!’ called Auum.

The call was taken up by elven and Wes throats, bringing archers and mages scurrying through the gaps, which were immediately closed. Well directed arrows started to come over the stockade, sending defenders hurrying for cover. Thrynn lay prone on the barn roof, still calling out the closing distance.

Sentaya roared for his warriors to get back into line. Bows were discarded, swords and axes bristled. Stein’s voice in his most melodious elvish reorganised his mages, bringing them back towards the houses before turning to prepare again.

‘Twenty.’

Auum looked up. ‘Thrynn, don’t-’

A bolt of pure black the thickness of an arm crossed the space faster than an arrow and struck Thrynn square in the forehead. Her skull burst, her body twitched and fell from the roof of the barn, leaving blood and brain smearing the thatch. For a heartbeat Auum struggled to understand what he had seen.

‘Il-Aryn, barrier, now! Stein, get some spells over that wall. Anyone in the open, get to cover!’

Auum ran across the central oval. A breathless hush fell in the village as Julatsan mages launched orbs over the stockade. A moment later the Il-Aryn barriers shimmered into place, each covering a third of the stockade the enemy threatened. Sentaya’s warriors backed up a pace or two but ignored Auum’s advice to seek cover.

Auum turned a full circle, checking positions and trying not to think about Thrynn and what her death meant for them all. He trotted back towards Ulysan and Tilman, both peering from the door of Sentaya’s house. Tilman was looking nervous, but Ulysan’s face was set hard, the loss of Thrynn firing his desire to fight.

Across the arc shaman fire slammed into the barriers, Auum imagining the thick black rods like spears of magic lancing into the magical construct. He heard Rith yelling for the Il-Aryn to hold and could see the adepts, with arms about each other in their horribly vulnerable positions, bowing their heads to focus harder.

Again and again the fire came in and the barriers shimmered, bowed and steadied. Auum prayed that their adaptation of Takaar’s original casting had eradicated the weakness which had previously brought them down, and that the Wesman warriors would be forced to attack the stockade. After the fifth attack the bombardment ceased.

‘Hold!’ called Rith. ‘They haven’t gone anywhere. Keep the bindings secure.’

The temptation to look above the stockade was almost overwhelming, but Thrynn’s demise was raw in their memories and the defenders held their positions. Orders were called beyond the stockade. Arrows flew into the village in disciplined volleys, Auum estimating the archer strength at around seventy — enough to cause problems. Sentaya’s warriors raised their shields.

Auum felt the weight of magical energy heavy across his shoulders, pressing down on his head. Beside him Ulysan felt it too, and out in the village the Il-Aryn had hunched closer together.

‘That doesn’t feel-’

The light dimmed momentarily in front of the northern section of the stockade. Dark energy engulfed the Il-Aryn barrier without warning, scattering it to twinkling shards. The stockade was obliterated along a length of some sixty yards, sending splinters through the village on a cloud of choking dust. Mage, Il-Aryn and Wesman alike threw themselves down while the hideous energy rolled over them only to be snatched back and swallowed by the hands that had cast it. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

Auum sprinted out into the open, racing across the ground to Rith, who was flat on her back. The dust was clearing away and through it he could see enemy warriors making their charge. To the right more shamen moved into position while those who had broken the Il-Aryn retreated to recover. On the shallow rise where the carriage stood a single tall figure gazed across the land. It was thick with the corpses of his fighters, while magical fires picked at bodies, some of which were moving grotesquely, grasping at nothing and hoping for death.

‘Yniss preserve us,’ breathed Auum.

He stared down at Rith, whose face was smothered with confusion and shock. Other TaiGethen ran to help the Il-Aryn.

‘Up,’ he said. ‘Enemies coming. Come on, Rith, get to your other teams. More incoming power. You have to help them.’

Auum hauled her to her feet and she stared at him while the world swam into focus. She nodded and turned away to see to her Il-Aryn. Auum ran to the shattered stockade.

‘Tais, with me!’ he called. The Wesmen were only twenty yards away and running in hard. ‘Jaqruis!’

Ulysan came to his left shoulder with Tilman the other side of him.

‘Face front, trust the TaiGethen,’ said Auum, wondering how vulnerable his right flank would be. ‘This is your chance to be one of us. Arrows!’ Auum grabbed Tilman and dragged him flat. Arrows flew overhead. ‘Up, up!’ Tilman jumped to his feet, no fear on his face but a wild excitement in his eyes and pride fit to burst from his chest. ‘Remember your training.’

Marack, Nokhe and Hohan joined his right. Auum saw Evunn and Duele moving left with more coming, bolstered by Sentaya’s Wesmen roaring their fury and holding weapons high. Archers behind them sent arrows into the midst of the attackers, downing one or two. Auum estimated their strength at around six hundred. A third of them were down, but it was nowhere near enough.

Without warning the central section of the stockade exploded inwards, scattering Il-Aryn and Wesman fighters alike. The pressure of the blast blew across Auum and his defenders. Wesmen poured towards the new gap as the last section was blown apart. Sentaya could he heard ordering his warriors back to their feet.

‘Ulysan, hold them here,’ said Auum. ‘We need a diversion.’

He turned and ran back into the village, hearing the first swords clash, the first cry of a dying fighter. He prayed it wasn’t Tilman. The Il-Aryn were exposed and vulnerable. Enemies were driving in across the arc, buoyed by the devastating power gifted their shamen by Ystormun. TaiGethen cells were moving to their aid but he needed more than that.

‘Stein! Where are you!’ he roared.

‘Auum.’ It was Grafyrre with his cell of Ferinn and Lynees. ‘What do you need?’

They were standing in the centre of the oval, their plan in tatters. Their withdrawal should have been much more controlled and gradual.

‘I need the Il-Aryn up, defended and under cover. They have to get barriers back up when the shamen are ready to cast again. And I need Stein.’

‘Stein is by Sentaya’s barn.’

Auum looked to his left. Stein and seven of his mages launched orbs of fire across the defence to slam into the enemy line at the third section.

‘Good. Get two cells. . Truun and Gyliaar’s. . put them in charge of the Il-Aryn. Then get to Stein. You’re heading out on his signal to take Ystormun.’

Grafyrre took his cell and sped away. Auum raced over to Stein.

‘We can’t hold them when the shamen come back,’ said Auum. ‘But Ystormun is poorly defended.’

Stein looked at him and nodded. ‘Now is as good a time as any.’

‘It might be our only chance,’ said Auum. ‘Grafyrre will be with you. We’ll try to sweep up any survivors of the strike cells and send them back in.’

‘I’ll take twenty with me, fly out and hopefully turn a few shamen away from the village.’

‘I can’t risk you,’ said Auum. ‘Send your best deputy.’

‘I’ve trained for this all my life,’ said Stein.

Auum nodded, still reluctant. ‘Just don’t die, brother.’

‘I have no intention of doing so.’

Auum turned and ran back to Ulysan and Tilman. Despite the shock of the shaman power, Sentaya’s warriors were up and fighting, the line thin but just holding with the help of the TaiGethen, who worked the left and right flanks to contain the attack. Auum saw Sentaya front and centre, his axe sweeping through low into the legs of an enemy and reversing to batter its spike into the face of another. For a Wesman beyond his physical peak, he had the energy of someone half his age.

Running in hard, Auum saw Ulysan close to Tilman, tipping away a blow meant for the human and savaging his second blade into the neck of an opponent. Tilman had a short blade held two-handed and displayed good speed, knocking aside an axe aimed at his skull and riposting swiftly, lacing a cut into the Wesman’s chest.

Auum called Ulysan’s name, leaped and soared over the big TaiGethen’s head, his blades in hand. He landed behind Ulysan’s next opponent and drove one of his blades backwards through his thigh, ripping it clear through the side of his leg. He turned and spun right, driving his left foot up into the mouth of the attacker facing him and his bloodied blade into the chest of the one moving in beside him.

Auum completed his turn, stabbed his right blade into the kidney of the Wesman closing on Tilman and rejoined the line.

‘We missed you,’ said Ulysan.

The Wesmen came on again after a moment to compose themselves. Beyond them the shamen were gathering themselves for another assault while overhead Stein flew out and to the right heading for his showdown with Ystormun. Down on the ground Grafyrre and his cell would be under the shetharyn and following him through the enemy.

‘This had better work,’ muttered Auum. ‘Die old, Stein, not today.’

Grafyrre could see fingers pointing up into the sky and Wesmen and shamen turning. Auum was going to get his diversion. He led his cell through the lines and away to the right beyond the reach of shaman fire, where he knew the strike teams were to muster before returning to the village.

Grafyrre called Ferinn and Lynees from the shetharyn, and they dropped to a sprint. Almost immediately Stein swept overhead, indicating ahead and to his right. Grafyrre changed direction, ran over a low rise and into a small stand of trees, where TaiGethen stood over the prone forms of two others.

‘Faleen,’ he said, sliding to a stop and kicking up dust. ‘How many can come with us?’

He looked down and saw Pannos, over whom Oryaal crouched offering words of comfort. Next to him Merrat stroked the hair from Nersini’s face. Both injured elves were lying on their sides and had scorches across their bodies where fires had burned through their clothes and into their backs.

‘This is what we face,’ said Merrat. ‘Dodann’s cell was gone in a taipan’s strike.’

‘Jyrrian?’ asked Grafyrre.

Faleen shook her head. ‘At least it was steel that killed him, not this new evil.’

‘We have no time to grieve,’ said Grafyrre, feeling heartless. ‘Any who can run with me, we’re after Ystormun. Stein’s mages are in the sky.’

Merrat and Oryaal stood. Faleen and Merke joined them.

‘What we have, we’ll bring.’

‘Then let’s run.’

Grafyrre led them out towards Ystormun’s carriage, twelve of them in all to take on whatever Ystormun threw at them. The elven mages were ahead and had been seen as they landed. Wesmen and shamen were advancing on them from the carriage guard some two hundred yards away.

Stein spread them wide apart and all walked forward steadily, preparing. Ystormun stood proud in front of his carriage, barely even looking in their direction. Shamen and Wesmen in their dozens were heading back to join him while the remainder battered at the village defenders.

‘Break around the mages and target the warriors first,’ Grafyrre said. ‘Stein will take the shamen.’

Orbs of fire shot from the hands of Stein’s mages, arcing over the warriors and falling on the carriage, Ystormun and into the midst of the shamen. The carriage roof blew off and the axles broke as the vehicle collapsed into an inferno. Shamen were blown apart, others had dived and rolled away, some caught by flame, others unscathed. Ystormun did not so much as flinch when the fire was diverted harmlessly across the shield he had created for himself. He continued to stare downslope as if searching for something, or someone.

Grafyrre sped past the mages, who were advancing again after casting their spells. He nodded at Stein, who was staring straight at Ystormun, already working on his next and pivotal construct.

Grafyrre drew a jaqrui and hurled it. His Wesman target ducked and it slashed past him and struck a shaman thirty yards behind him square in the forehead. Grafyrre drew his twin blades and launched into the attack, Ferinn and Lynees on his flanks.

Grafyrre swivelled and launched a side kick up to block an axe blade. He moved forward after the kick, sweeping his left blade into the warrior’s midriff. Lynees was airborne, spear-kicking his target, catching him on the jaw. The Wesman’s axe jerked up and back and lodged in the skull of the warrior behind him.

Ferinn spun on her heel and unwound a heavy blow to the shoulder of her target with her right heel, sending him sprawling. Grafyrre pounced on him, slicing his throat open. He rolled under a scything axe sweep and chopped both his blades into the groin of the fighter. Grafyrre stood as the Wesman collapsed. Ferinn dodged a cut to the face, failed to stop a sword slicing across her chest and stepped back, blood seeping through her shirt and jacket.

Grafyrre surged right, battering the hilt of one blade into her attacker’s temple and jamming the other up under his ribcage. Ferinn nodded she could continue. To Grafyrre’s far right, Merke, Siraaj and Dysett were making short work of the flimsy warrior line. Left, Merrat and Faleen were working their depleted cells as a four while Oryaal and Lyrrique swept up the left flank.

Lynees came past Grafyrre at head height, piling into three Wesmen protecting a casting shaman. Grafyrre hurdled the knot of flailing bodies and struck the head from the shaman in a clean blow. He turned. Lynees had killed one and wounded another, and now scrabbled backwards only to have an axe blade bite into his ankle from a downed warrior. Lynees fell forward. Grafyrre slashed a blade into the third man’s back, staying his killing strike.

‘Get yourself away to the other injured,’ said Grafyrre. ‘We’ll find you.’

Grafyrre turned to find his next target. He saw Merrat kill two with simultaneous strikes to the left and right then duck for Artuune to hurl a jaqrui into the face of a shaman. This fight was done, and with the fall of the last shaman body, Ystormun turned.

Grafyrre felt those ancient eyes cross his body and he shivered.

‘Tais, with me!’ he called. ‘Stein, it has to be now!’

Grafyrre ran hard straight past the Wytch Lord to the slope where the returning Wesmen and shamen were almost on them. He longed to strike the bastard but knew he was invulnerable to steel.

‘Spread wide,’ called Merrat as he strode up to Grafyrre’s shoulder. ‘If only Katyett was here. She’d have loved this.’

‘Old times and all times, we could do with her strength,’ said Grafyrre.

He looked down the slope and breathed hard. He didn’t fear the fifty and more warriors who came at them, it was the shamen moving in their wake who were worrying. Their fate was in Stein’s hands. The first shaman prepared his black fire.

‘Speed!’ called Grafyrre.

‘Focus on the casting and only on the casting,’ said Stein.

His mages were spreading to encircle Ystormun. The Wytch Lord had finally taken notice of them and would soon be able to feel what they were bringing to bear on him. Ystormun’s filthy gaze swept across them, within it the contempt of centuries and the memory of humiliation.

Stein.

Stein jolted and almost lost his construct.

‘Push out,’ said Stein to his mages. ‘He’s going to resist. Be ready.’

I can trace your line through the centuries to your first betrayal.

Stein’s heart was pounding in his chest. He shook his head to dislodge the voice. He linked his construct to those of his mages and could see the spiked net they had created just beyond the bounds of Ystormun’s subconscious. They were ready, but then so would he be.

You cannot hurt me, not here. Let it go. I seek others today.

They are my brothers, said Stein to himself and he felt a chill inside his skull. I will not let you harm them.

Brothers. Is that what they told you? You have no power here, Stein.

Then do your worst and prove it.

‘Advance,’ ordered Stein. ‘Press and then hold. Do not let him in, do not look at him — he will be seeking your soul.’

The elven mages tightened their arc and sought to encircle Ystormun. Stein could feel his eyes tracking across them, seeking weakness he could exploit. Stein felt as if he was toying with them and anxiety flooded him briefly before he quashed it, knowing it was what Ystormun desired.

‘Strike,’ said Stein, his word carrying across the construct and into the mind of each mage. ‘Strike hard.’

They pushed out and forward. The construct came into contact with Ystormun’s aura, sick and malevolent. Stein crushed his eyes closed and heaved with his mind. Spikes pierced the aura and darkness flooded out.

That is far enough.

Stein pushed again. His mages were with him, all of them using every mote of energy they possessed. But they could go no further, as if cement had hardened across the surface of their net, holding it secure and immovable.

Now it is my turn.

Stein’s eyes snapped open. Ystormun was staring at him.

‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘No one stands in my way.’

Sickness flooded into the construct and Stein dropped back into the mana spectrum to see the net tangled with a mass of grasping black tendrils. Each found purchase, locked on tight and hardened. The darkest of night pulsed within Ystormun’s aura and flashed towards them.

‘Out!’ screamed Stein.

He dropped the construct, risking dire psychological damage, and turned, barrelling into the mage next to him, clawing at a third and reaching for a fourth. But he only had moments, and as his hand reached out to the serene figure her expression turned to dread. She saw what was coming.

Her body turned to blood and burst asunder.