Elfsorrow

Chapter 39

There was far more to the situation than Auum had appreciated and for the first time he wished he had listened more closely to The Raven. This was no simple two-way fight. At least two other factions were involved and that made decisions complex. However, the outcome was still not in doubt.

The ClawBound had discovered the party of Xeteskians on the third day of searching, moving steadily along the trail Rebraal had indicated. Their communications had spoken of a sizeable force. It had been another day before Auum and his Tai had found the pair. Although sympathising with how unsettled they were, he had rebuked the ClawBound for attacking an innocent. He had then personally tracked the Xeteskians for another day before moving quickly to the meeting point.

He reached it half a day ahead of the enemy and immediately began to plan, gathering other Tais to him and assessing information from the northern scouting. Troops in battle lines had been found a further three days north, their purpose unclear because they faced both north and south. There was no knowing if they were Xeteskian but the fact that they could be enemies added further weight to the argument for attacking the travelling force at the first opportunity.

'The enemy strength is not considerable in numbers but the warrior and mage quality is high,' said Merke, leader of the second Tai tracking the travelling Xeteskians.

'Agreed,' said Auum.

And it was so. The mounted forces numbered fifteen mages and thirty cavalry. On foot were twenty foot soldiers and fifty of the masked warriors. It was these last about whom Auum was most concerned. He had seen the one who fought with The Raven and his speed and raw power were beyond question. Rebraal had been at pains to emphasise that the more of them there were in one fight, the better they became. So fifty were to be rightly feared.

Given their strength and the focussed magic they could bring to bear, to attack them with the numbers that had landed from the Calaian Sun would be foolhardy. But the main elven force was now on land and travelling north. If they kept up their pace, there would be a chance to attack the Xeteskians south of the battle lines. Assuming the troops in the line were also Xeteskian, it was vital to attack the marching force as soon as possible.

Auum called Rebraal to him.

'What are the numbers we can expect here?'

'A further fifteen TaiGethen cells, four ClawBound pairs and a hundred and seventy Al-Arynaar. But every day more fall prey to the Elfsorrow.'

'The Tai have been mercifully free of the Elfsorrow since we left Calaius but it won't last,' said Auum. 'We have an opportunity but I need to combine our forces quickly. Hold Communion. Have the main force move more quickly northwards and be prepared for battle a day after they join us. We must strike before the enemy reach the college lines to the north.'

'And if we don't secure the fragment?' asked Rebraal.

'Alert The Raven,' said Auum. 'They say they can help. If we fail, we'll see what they can do, won't we?'

'You are sceptical, Auum?'

Auum shrugged. 'It is the way of an elf. You have listened too closely to your brother. Rebraal, one more thing. We are going to track the strangers from a distance. They must have no idea we are following them. If they increase their pace, we are lost. Be sure your people understand.'

'Don't worry. None of the Al-Arynaar will travel forward of the TaiGethen or ClawBound.'

'We are in an alien land,' said Auum, 'People talk and messages cross long distances by magic. Unless you have no option, keep clear of Balaians. This must be the greatest victory since the unification of the elves. Our lives are all at stake. Be sure they are mindful of that, too.'

'We understand, Auum,' said Rebraal.

Auum nodded. 'Pray with me.'

'It will be my honour.' Ilkar came out of his Communion with the Al-Arynaar mage and outlined the elves' plans.

'Where do they report seeing the college lines?' asked The Unknown.

'Three plus days north of Thornewood.'

'That's the southern border of the Xeteskian mage lands,' said Darrick. 'When you talk to her next, tell her the troops they can see are going to be Dordovan; the lines they can't see a couple of miles further north will be the Xeteskians.'

'And they're planning on attacking where, exactly?' asked The Unknown.

'Rebraal's brief is a little sketchy but it'll be close to the lines. Perhaps not in sight but not far off. It's all a question of getting the main force that followed us into the Bay of Gyernath north quickly enough. With the best will in the world, they can't catch Yron and the researchers much south of the Xeteskian lines. They're all on foot after all.'

'But fast,' said Ren. 'And resolute.'

Ilkar nodded. 'So where does that leave us?'

'Simple,' said Hirad. 'We can get north of Yron's force and perhaps even contact the Dordovan lines. Let them know what's coming. What do you say?'

'It's good enough for me,' said Ilkar.

The Unknown looked at Darrick, who nodded his agreement. 'Let's do it.' Yron had never been able to shake off the idea that they were being watched. For practically every mile of the ten-day journey since they had left Arlen with the researchers, he'd had a nag at the back of his mind. He knew they drew glances from everyone they passed but that wasn't it. Hollow-cheeked men and women trying to work the land or with bow in hand on the hunt, traders wary of attack giving them a wide berth on the trail and refugees in any number just drifting; they weren't the problem.

Nor were the Dordovans. He'd been given clear assurances that their path to Xetesk was clear of enemy college forces until close to the mage lands. And he had no reason to disbelieve the army command. The devastation in Arlen, shocking as it was, served as ample proof of Xetesk's intent to see them safely home. There were parts of the town where nothing would grow again, the magic had caused so much damage to the core of the earth. Like a smaller version of the Torn Wastes far to the west.

But something wouldn't let him relax, and it wasn't the vague threat of Black Wings and misguided non-mages. Riding in the midst of fifty Protectors he would hardly fear those. It was the elves. He had no evidence whatever that they had followed him across the ocean as The Raven would have done. And he had no evidence they were being trailed or watched but he just knew it was so.

And because of this feeling he ordered them to follow a path away from the cover of valley, crag and forest. He would even have avoided long plains grass if he could, but to do that they'd all have had to fly. So instead he drilled his guards and kept half of his mages awake and shielding them day and night. He was aware they thought he was mad, but they hadn't been in the rainforest. They didn't understand these elves' capabilities.

The Protectors of course said nothing, and he was grateful for their reassuring presence. The rest of them would be welcome to laugh in his face the moment the gates of Xetesk closed behind them. In fact, he decided, he'd be the one to start the laughter. Only Erys understood, but all his words with the researchers, foot soldiers and cavalry served to do was make him seem as ridiculous as the Captain.

Yron had spent several nervous days riding between the ruins of Grethern Forest and Thornewood but with no incident. They had stopped off in Erskan to find themselves unwelcome and the gates of the castle closed against them. And they had skirted the earthquake rubble of Denebre over which the birds would not fly. Nothing. Not a hint of trouble.

They were less than half a day from the Dordovan blockade of the Xeteskian mage lands as late afternoon began to give way to dusk, but still Yron refused to relax. One word from him and the Protectors that ran with him would pass the message to their brothers in the battle lines and the way would be cleared, but still he could not stop fidgeting.

His eyes flicked over everything. There was forest to their left but it was a mile away and to their right a long rolling hillside ambled up to a sheer cliff twice as distant as the forest. They rode through a plain of waving grass that barely brushed his feet.

'See anything, Erys?' he said.

'No, Captain,' said Erys a little wearily. 'But I am still watching, believe me.'

'Don't humour me, boy,' said Yron. Never mind weary, he felt absolutely exhausted. He'd hardly slept a wink since they'd left Arlen. 'Just do what I ask. Point and laugh later.'

'I won't be doing that,' said Erys. 'I've seen too much of you to take your hunches lightly.'

'Good, because I'm still sure.'

But inside he wasn't sure. Was he simply being paranoid? Dystran had assured him that The Raven were being monitored through the Protector, Aeb, and presented no immediate danger. And he hadn't seen a single elf. But he couldn't afford to be complacent. Because in complacency lay death.

The Xeteskian force rode and ran on easily, eating up the distance. Yron reacted to every bird call, every whinny of a horse, the rattle of tack, the chink of metal and the breeze playing over the grass. He shivered constantly, just waiting for the awful keening sound of a jaqrui crescent scything through the air.

Six miles from the lines he ordered the lead Protector to him.

'We will be nearing the Dordovan supply lines or rear scouts,' he said. 'They know what we're attempting and will be ready. Assume they know our position.'

'Yes, sir,' said Esk.

'I want a clear run. I don't want a single sword, arrow or spell coming within a hundred yards of me, do you understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then I leave the timing to you and your brothers across the lines. Strike as required.'

'It will be done.'

Immediately, Esk ran off, twenty-five Protectors moving seamlessly to join him. The remainder closed ranks around Yron and Erys, the cavalry forming a wedge ahead, the mages scattered through the foot soldiers and cavalry, half holding their HardShields as they rode, the others with offensive spells part formed for quick casting. It was a drain but it wouldn't be for much longer.

Yron nodded, watching the Protectors sprint away to assault the rear of the Dordovan lines. It was oddly comforting to see them and he knew without any question that they'd achieve their aim. Still he carried on watching until long after they were completely out of sight. He turned his head to speak to Erys and the plain came alive all around them.

Shadows surged from the grass on both sides and crossed the path in front of them. An instant later, bows hummed and jaqrui howled through the darkening dusk. HardShields flared to deflect the incoming missiles, FlameOrbs arced into the sky, HotRain began to fall.

'Oh dear Gods,' muttered Yron, then shouted, 'I told you, I told you!'

The cavalry charged, riding down the elves ahead, swords thumping into the Al-Arynaar, who had no experience of fighting mounted swordsmen. At the end of the charge, the cavalry turned and split to sweep back along the flanks. The Protectors unsnapped weapons and stormed away to meet their attackers, the foot soldiers trailing in their wake. Yron dragged his sword from its scabbard, kicked his horse to escape the HotRain that poured from the sky and headed for the melee.

'No!' shouted Erys. 'No!'

'What?' Yron turned and saw Erys leaning out of his saddle, grabbing at his reins to pull him round. FlameOrbs splashed down close by, smearing across helpless foot soldiers.

'We've got to go!' yelled Erys.

'I will not run, boy.'

'Leave the Protectors. We have to get our cargo to Xetesk. Now.'

Yron knew he was right but recoiled from running and leaving others to die. TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar were closing in, hundreds of them streaming across the grass. How had they got here so quickly? More arrows bounced from the HardShield covering Yron. Somewhere nearby a panther roared, its voice picked up by others all around him.

'ClawBound too,' he whispered.

What in hell was going on? Surely this was a totally disproportionate response to the theft of a few crumbling parchments? But even as his blood chilled at the numbers suddenly against them, his horse moving nervously, skittish at the sound of the big cat, he could only marvel at how these elves had got so close.

'Now!' screamed Erys, as more HotRain appeared above them.

Yron nodded, put his heels to his horse's flanks, called the research mages and his cavalry guard to him and forged ahead, the sounds of death echoing in his ears. Auum made a quick analysis as he ran in, blade in his right hand, jaqrui in his left. The spells had served to scatter the foot soldiers and the tight knot of horsemen at the centre of the enemy but now answering spells were coming. Five elves at least were ablaze and dying, their bodies torches to light the gloom, their cries invitations to Shorth to take them.

To his left, well-ordered horsemen had carved through the ambush and were circling round to sweep along their flanks. Ahead, a line of Protectors spread in perfect order to wield the dual weapons they all carried and moved towards them. Behind them, spearmen moved nervously and, at the hub of it all, were the strangers he wanted, unsure and scared.

With Duele left and Evunn right, he sprinted in on a slight arc, other TaiGethen running counter arcs designed to confuse the enemy. Panthers roared and growled. He saw black shapes next to tall bound-elves running in from at least six points, one pair very close to him.

Auum flicked out his jaqrui. It flew straight and fast, wailing in the air. As he ran into the fight, he tracked it. The masked man hadn't seen it. Auum had mentally noted the kill when the man's blade came from nowhere to block it away in a shower of sparks. His gaze settled on Auum an instant later.

The TaiGethen joined battle, the enemy spacing allowing them two to a target. Auum flicked in a slash to the stomach which was blocked away, Duele carving towards the mask only to see the flat blade of an axe clatter against his sword, the sheer force knocking him momentarily off balance. Auum leapt, drop-kicking the enemy in the chest with both legs, forcing him to step back, but already the heavy axe was up and ready, the sword crashing down. Auum swayed right, deflecting the heavy blow, then skipped back a pace, narrowly avoiding a blow from the next Protector right. Duele mimicked Auum's movement, an axe grazing his arm, tearing the leather.

Next to them, Evunn had the help of a ClawBound pair. He ducked a cross-swing from an axe, his blade licking up into his opponent's body. Simultaneously, the panther leapt, clamping onto the sword arm in mid-swing and bearing it backwards. The Clawbound elf went for the man's face, hardened nails clawing at the mask's sides and teeth ripping at the eye slits. The Protector fell back, trying to push the elf away. His defence compromised, Evunn pierced his chest.

Auum checked in again, rolling under a sword thrust and whipping his blade up into the enemy's thigh as he rose, his head crashing into the point of the man's chin, snapping his head back. Duele saw his opportunity and roundhoused a kick to the Protector's head. Auum slashed his throat, turning as the body dropped.

Across the line it was slow going. He saw one of the masked men decapitate an elf in front of him, and with the follow-up with his sword, thrash it through the chest of another. The Protector moved forward, another beside him deflecting a blow he had no right to reach, allowing him to carve his axe into the body of a third Al-Arynaar. There was no sound from them and they worked closely in concert, just like Rebraal had said. They would be overwhelmed but it would take time.

In the centre of the enemy, their key targets kicked at their horses and sprang away. Auum heard shouts and some of the horsemen broke off, turned and followed.

Auum called his Tai and raced off, gathering others to him. He whipped out another jaqrui, this one finding a gap in the shield net and thudding into the back of one of the rider's heads. The cavalryman pitched from his horse.

'Get the runners! Get the runners!'

Ahead of him arrows flew and elves sprinted on the chase. ClawBound joined them, the panthers snapping at the heels of cavalry horses, one cat leaping to snatch a trooper from his saddle and bear him screaming to the ground. But the key men were getting away.

The surviving Protectors curved in more sharply, blocking the elves' route to the escaping Xeteskians, and around their flanks came the remains of the cavalry, swords held high, yelling war cries, their mounts thundering across the plain.

'Arrows!' yelled Auum, and he pulled another jaqrui from his belt pouch and flung it, seeing it miss its target as the rider ducked reflexively at the sound, hunching close over his saddle. 'Tai, be sure.'

The horses were on them, eight riders crashing into the line of TaiGethen, the elves dodging, waiting for an opportunity to strike. From the sides, arrows came in, thudding into three of the horses, which grunted in pain but ran on. One rider was downed, tumbling forward and under the hooves of his mount.

Auum could all but feel the breath of the animal on him when he skipped right and slashed his sword high, taking his opponent in the leg. He turned to watch them halt and turn. Auum took off at a sprint, racing past battling elves and men and hearing the scream of a dying TaiGethen cut off abruptly. The rider had pointed his horse and was kicking it back into motion, holding his sword low this time and to his left, defending his wounded leg.

But Auum wasn't interested in dodging this time. Going full tilt at the horse, he gauged the closing distance, leapt high, rolled in the air and arrowed in straight-legged, his feet catching the rider on the top of his head and catapulting him from the saddle. Auum landed rolling, coming up fast to finish the job, but there was no need. The broken angle of the still body told him everything.

He swung back to begin the chase after their main targets but could see immediately he was too late. Yelling in frustration, he turned to look for his Tai in the closing moments of the battle only to see a Protector impossibly close to him. He caught a glimpse of slashed mask and bloodied face behind it and an axe blade flashing towards him. He dived reflexively right, looking up to see the weapon coming at him again, head height. He raised his blade to block but knew it wouldn't be enough.

A black shadow crossed his vision and a panther took the Protector at the neck. The axe came through, catching the animal's hindquarters, shearing off a leg. It dropped to the ground dead, its ClawBound partner howling anguish. The bound-elf dived onto the prone enemy and stabbed straight-fingered again and again into his throat until it was nothing but bloody gore.

Auum placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. Elsewhere, the fight was done, the Xeteskians disengaging and running; some escaping, others being cut down as they went, victims of sword, spell and arrow. The ClawBound's howls split the air, his cries taken up by his brothers and their animals. The elf hugged his panther to him, smoothing its bloodied fur as ClawBound ran in from across the plain to mourn his loss.

'I am sorry,' said Auum. 'That blade was meant for me.'

The elf looked up at him, paint streaked with his tears, eyes red and glistening. 'It was vital you lived,' he said, then he let his head drop in prayer. He would be buried with his panther.

Auum backed away and rejoined his Tai. The war was not yet won. Tendjorn had been moved to command the Dordovan forces south of Xetesk and took it as a rebuke for his failure to lure the Xeteskians into an incursion across the River Dord. It had been a one-sided affair, he had lost far too many men and perhaps he was right to be shamed. The thought, though, did not improve his mood.

It was early evening, and in the camp between the south and north lines he was debating what to have for supper. He was bored with thick soups and stews and wondered if he could persuade some of the men to go out hunting deer. It was against regulations to leave the front but a forest two miles to the east was said to be home to a few. It could hardly hurt.

He was in charge of two hundred foot soldiers and mages spread thinly against an attack he didn't believe would come; not now Lystern had joined the blockade. And they had been effective in reducing supply to Xetesk to a trickle at best. The Lysternan leader, Heryst, was engaged in diplomacy which Vuldaroq was determined would fail. And though part of Tendjorn wanted it to fail too, so he could avenge his earlier poor showing, most of him wanted to go home, put his feet up and continue his research.

Tendjorn ambled out of his command tent and wandered over to one of the perimeter guards to the south of the camp. The majority of his men were north, well dug in against a Protector force he knew was out there. But he had stationed as many as he could spare in his south-facing line because command said Xeteskian researchers were heading home and would try to break the blockade. He didn't believe that either.

'Anything to report?'

The guard saluted then smiled and shook his head. 'Still nothing, sir.'

'Have they checked in?'

'A couple of hours ago, nothing to-'

FlameOrbs appeared in the sky perhaps three miles south, maybe less, quickly followed by the unmistakable sparkle of HotRain.

'What on earth?' he said. 'Have we got anyone that far south?'

'No, sir.'

'The Lysternans?'

'Not as far as I'm aware, sir,' said the guard.

They watched for a while, seeing spell after spell crack across the sky, getting no nearer.

'Get out to the first watcher,' ordered Tendjorn. 'Get me some information.'

'No need,' said the guard, pointing.

Someone was running towards them, arms flailing for balance, legs pumping hard at the coarse scrub-covered ground. He was shouting something unintelligible and seemed to be waving them away. Tendjorn stood where he was, a hand cupped to his ear.

'I can't hear you!' he shouted, and beckoned him on. 'Get closer.'

The man was screaming his words out. Tendjorn frowned. Someone else was shouting too, but from behind. The watcher got within earshot.

'Protectors!' he gasped. 'Twenty-five, running this way. Bring in the defence.'

Tendjorn nodded and turned, running back towards the centre of the camp.

'Captain, I need a defence south. Protector force coming this way. Twenty-five. Mages, FlameOrbs and DeathHail. Now move!'

But there was something else. While some ran to do the Captain's bidding, more were running the other way, grabbing weapons from stands, other officers screaming orders, faces white with fear.

'Gods, what is happening?'

Tendjorn hurried up to his north line, cresting a rise that looked out across a long plain. They had chosen this position as an ideal battlefield. Coming across it were more Protectors. A hundred more at least. They would have their battle.

'Shit,' he rasped. 'Keep them back as long as you can. Beware our south! More coming from the south.'

He turned and ran back towards his tent. From the south line, the ring of steel and the crump of spells had begun. Tendjorn slipped inside the tent and lay back on his cot, trying desperately to calm himself enough for a Communion. Vuldaroq had better be receptive. Tendjorn didn't have long to live.