Out on the flanks both enemy ships were under attack and wilting, though black fire continued to arc out from each. And as Stein closed in a little, he saw TaiGethen in the sea and swarming up the hull of the remaining vessel. The enemy had seen them but he gave them no chance.
Stein dropped further, on his way towards the Soul to report to Esteren. On his way past he saw that the Spirit had been forced into a tack to starboard, which was leading her out of the fight. She’d been supposed to come about into a run to chase down the flagship, but there had been no space for that turn. And across to the other flank, the Gyaam’s Blessing had not made sufficient headway east and could not block the flagship, leaving her free to make her way south. It would all cost time unless they could think of another plan.
Stein swooped down over the heads of TaiGethen powering through the swell. Auum was leading them, his body flickering through the water, leaving barely a ripple in his wake. Stein turned and tracked him for a moment before dropping down to hover above him.
‘Auum,’ he called.
‘Stein,’ said Auum, not looking up, nor slowing to listen. ‘What’s our status?’
Stein filled him in. ‘We’ll be a long while chasing her down, that’s all.’
‘I hear you,’ said Auum. ‘Leave it to us.’
‘You’re supposed to be boarding the Blessing,’ said Stein.
‘Not any more.’ Auum glanced at him for a moment. ‘Where’s Takaar?’
‘In the water if he’s alive. Drech too.’
‘Find them and save them both. Though it pains me to say it, we need Takaar.’
‘He tried to kill me just now.’
Auum smiled. ‘Then that’s something else you and I share. Go.’
Curious to know what Auum meant, Stein flew away towards the foundering wreck of Capricious, unsure if he hoped to find Takaar alive or not.
Chapter 9
The energies of Ix run through all things and each has its own unique signature. It is one thing to understand this and quite another to use it, for the strands of energy are dense and intertwined, even in the simplest of Yniss’s creations.
Takaar, Father of the Il-Aryn
Ollem was struggling. Though his heart hadn’t been pierced by the black fire, his ribs, flesh and muscles were bruised and burned, and he was having increasing difficulty keeping up the pace. Auum could tell his breathing was laboured whenever the swell allowed him to see. Ulysan was swimming close behind him, the worry plain on his face. The water was cold. Ollem wasn’t going to last.
Ahead, the two remaining enemy ships were making good speed, but the fit TaiGethen would catch them soon enough. They had to prevent the shamen getting a message back to the Wytch Lords. Stein had been certain the shamen could not send word to Ystormun, but he would eventually check in and would then know he was under attack.
The elves had to land somewhere hidden and unopposed, or the fight might be lost on the shores of Balaia. Auum took another look at Ollem and his decision was made. He circled an arm above his head and trod water, waiting for his people to gather about him. Twenty-nine including himself bobbed in the water. Ulysan had a hand on Ollem’s back. The only fatality had come from Duele’s cell and he wore the fact like a cloak of stone. It gave Auum an idea.
‘We have to up our speed,’ said Auum. ‘Ollem, I’m sorry but you have to get to a ship. The Blessing is closest. But you won’t go alone. For any of you who know you can swim no faster and then fight, there is no shame. Do not die for pride. Iriess, you will go with Ollem.’
Iriess thought to protest but Auum held her gaze until she nodded.
Auum continued: ‘Duele, you will fight with Ulysan and me.’
Duele smiled through the pain of losing one of his own. ‘The honour is too great,’ he said.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Ulysan, his smile as broad as Duele’s. ‘A taste of your future, perhaps.’
‘Shut up, Ulysan,’ said Auum. ‘Tais, let us swim hard and fight harder. Keep low in the water. We’ll take the flagship stern to bow.’
Stein took a closer look at the enemy vessels in the second row. The one they’d attacked had surviving crew and at least one shaman on board. It was sailing away after the flagship, still under control. None of the others showed any signs of life.
To his left, Capricious was all but gone. She was lying on her side with water bubbling and frothing around her. Too many would go down with her but he couldn’t worry about what that meant to their efforts in Balaia. Instead, Stein searched the flotsam for survivors. He was heartened to find a significant knot of them on or around the stripped-clean mizzenmast.
Both Drech and Takaar were among them along with the latter’s Senserii guard, masked elves who made Stein very nervous. Drech was full of energy and spirited words. Takaar was plainly lost within himself, staring at the wreck of the ship as if he expected to wake from his delusion of invulnerability at any moment.
Stein flew low over them, telling them he’d be back, an idea sparking in his head. He turned and flew back towards the enemy ship taken by Capricious’s complement of TaiGethen.
‘There they are,’ he shouted into the wind.
It was a sight to truly gladden his heart. TaiGethen warriors, perhaps fifteen of them, were swimming to the side of a longboat on which five wounded elves were seated while eight others pulled on oars. They’d lost two, which was a shame but not a disaster by any means. Stein called a warning of his approach and landed lightly on the bow, resting his feet but not too much weight.
‘You’ve more to pick up,’ he said. ‘The other side of the wreck. Takaar is with them.’
‘We thought as much,’ said a voice from the water to his left. Stein looked down at the elf, fighting briefly to remember his name. Grafyrre, that was it; one whom Auum held in the highest regard. ‘We’re heading to pick up survivors and get on board the Soul.’
‘Perfect,’ said Stein. ‘She’s coming about now. I’ll spot survivors for you. Most can swim; some you’ll need to pick out of the water.’
‘Takaar?’ asked Grafyrre.
‘Still alive. Drech too and a good number of your people.’ Stein dropped onto the bow seat and dismissed his wings. He turned and looked forward, waiting until they had cleared the sinking wreck and given him clear sight of his target before he began to cast. ‘Keep her steady if you can. There’s a little thing I need to do.’
Even before he had completed the shape and cast his spell of rapacious flame and heat, he was imagining the screams of the burning shaman and how satisfying it would be to destroy the last of those who had broken Capricious.
The body shuddered and grasped at the bow rail to steady itself. Slowly Ystormun gained control. He found the legs and made the body stand. He found the arms and adjusted the grip on the rail to lever himself upright. The view gradually melted into focus, giving him a view of glorious clear water ahead and Calaius on the horizon.
But then the hearing cleared from its muted roar and he could hear anxiety in every command and a harsh edge to the shouts of Wesman warriors. And when the sense of smell finally came to him, the stench was of magic and fire. Ystormun shook the head – his head – but nothing changed.
Gasping in a breath, he turned, looked back down the ship and wasn’t sure what to stare at first. Way back now, he could see two of his vessels on fire. Others sat dead in the water, sails limp. Another was sailing off into the east and the open ocean to nowhere. Only one other of his ships was still with him, and chasing them were two, no three, elven cutters.
A howl of alarm dragged his gaze from the disaster in the distance. He saw elves swarming over the stern. Like rats, or perhaps it was monkeys, they came. Ystormun cursed: TaiGethen. What in all the hells were they doing here? How in all the hells could they possibly be here?
But here they were. They engulfed the wheel deck, executing captain and helmsman and murdering shamen in mere moments. The ship began to turn to the east, the wheel set over hard. And on they
came, vaulting the rail, hurling their damned jaqruis as well as themselves at the defending Wesmen.
And however courageous the tribesmen might be, they had little chance. The elves were so fast. Perhaps his memory had dimmed over the centuries, but he didn’t remember this speed.
Ystormun moved. He raced to the forecastle rail and bellowed down to the main deck, ‘Defence! Shamen get up here and prepare. I want two lines of warriors in front of us now and I want elvish eyes smoking before we crest another wave. Move!’
Shamen and Wesmen scrabbled to obey, knowing instantly who was in possession of the body. In an instant nine shamen had joined him with Wesmen guarding the stairs.
‘Get line of sight down the ship. One rank. Cast on my word,’ said Ystormun.
The wave of TaiGethen washed around the mainmast. Ystormun saw a Wesman begin to raise his blade to defend himself, but a sword pierced his gut and a foot crushed his windpipe so quickly he didn’t manage to cry out when he fell. TaiGethen ran along the rails, slashing sheets and lanyards. Sails flapped lazily.
‘Ready!’ called Ystormun. ‘Cast.’
He heard a mourning sound repeating over and over. The air was full of flashing metal. He threw himself to the ground behind his shamen who screamed and jerked as dozens of crescent blades thudded home. Blood sprayed in all directions and a body fell on top of him, its owner trying to pull the jaqrui from his forehead though his brain was oozing around it.
Ystormun shovelled the twitching body off him and stood, preparing to cast, determined to take at least one of them before this body was slain. He was greeted by the sight of a single elf leaping high over the last of the Wesmen, turning a somersault and landing directly in front of him, blades poised.
Ystormun stared, his casting forgotten.
‘You,’ he gasped.
The TaiGethen’s eyes widened slightly but his mouth twitched up in the shadow of a smile.
‘Yeah,’ said Auum. ‘Me.’
The edges of his blades were so cold.
The Soul of Yniss had joined Gyaam’s Blessing in the pursuit of the one remaining enemy ship still sailing south. Drech with the rest of the survivors of Capricious had come alongside the fast-moving elven vessel and clambered up rigging thrown over the starboard rail. Lines had been secured to the longboat and it had been hauled up the side, complete with its injured passengers.
Ahead, the enemy flagship was wallowing, sails flapping in the breeze as it gradually came into the wind. TaiGethen were in longboats heading back to them. Others were going back through the enemy vessels. Each one was to be scoured and stripped of anything useful. Spirit of Tual had been tasked to stand on station to take any cargo on board.
Drech was standing in the prow of the Soul with a strangely calm and thoughtful Takaar. Stein was aft, reporting to Esteren, and was intent on sleep, having spent every mote of spell-casting stamina he possessed. Drech didn’t blame him for keeping his distance from the Il-Aryn’s finest but most flawed practitioner. The enemy ship before them was under full sail and they would not catch her before nightfall. Drech felt the tension across the ship.
‘Can we not impel a wind to speed us up?’ asked Drech. ‘Surely we can find something in the paths of Ix that governs the heavens.’
‘Wind is too chaotic,’ said Takaar. ‘Harnessing it would take more skill than we possess. We’ve barely touched research on the powers that rush above our heads.’
‘Over six hundred years of study, research and practice and we have done no more than scratch the bark of a single tree in the forest of our potential.’
Drech smiled at his own metaphor. Takaar was staring at him, a smile on his face that made Drech nervous.
‘Now there is something we might try. It should work, even at this range because there is nothing to block its path, and no other fuel directly ahead as long as the impression is cast directly outwards. I wonder if any would mind if I tried. I would need your help of course, your strength and your focus; mine alone will not be enough, but together we can do it. I doubt we’d even need any of the others. The poor souls are exhausted anyway. Better they rest in case we need the shield again. The Ixii and Gyalans possess such ability but their stamina is so much less than that of the Ynissul, don’t you think? So we must attempt this. Nothing to lose and so much time to gain. Another day, even. What do you say? Will you help me? Shall we try? Just think how much it would advance our knowledge if I was proved correct, and I very much think I am. Another step taken. Another notch in the tree of understanding.’
Drech was desperately trying to follow what Takaar was saying. The elf was staring at him, eyes teetering on the brink of a sharp descent into the pit of his madness, unless it was tears that threatened.
‘How much of that were you saying directly to me?’ he asked carefully.
Fury shot across Takaar’s expression, but he forced a faint smile and nodded.
‘All of it,’ he said, his stare intensifying. ‘All of it.’
‘And what are we going to attempt?’
Takaar’s smile became conspiratorial. He took Drech’s arm and turned him to follow his gaze to the enemy ship.
‘We’re going to make it sink.’
‘From this distance?’
‘You doubt me?’
Drech thought about that for a moment.
‘No, not at all.’ He gestured ahead. ‘Lead on.’
‘Let yourself see the energies of Ix,’ said Takaar, closing his eyes.
The first joy of the Il-Aryn was the moment the lines of energy that travelled the earth and everything living on it or under it became visible. Until you made sense of it, the scene was nothing more than the heaviest of rainforest deluges travelling in every direction. But slowly every adept could unpick sets of threads from the flood because, as Takaar first preached, every individual plant and animal has a different density of energy. Wood has energy of a deeper density than a liana but not as deep as stone. A panther’s energies are less dense than those of an elf. The energies of the core elements of earth, air, fire and water have signature flows and enormous strength to set them apart from any individual creature or plant.
Takaar’s next breakthrough was to understand that single energy lines almost always represented combinations. For instance, water is the most common element of all and is critical to the make-up of every living thing. Drech had found the idea that he was mostly water absurd, but Takaar had created some demonstrations that persuaded him otherwise.
And there was the third joy: understanding the innate ability to manipulate the energies to produce something different. That had been central to unlocking the potential of the Il-Aryn as a magical force. It had given them a basis for learning and research and the development of a range of castings and constructions. There was no end to it that Drech could see, and that was a thrilling thought.
Drech saw the thundering energy lines that made up the ocean and took time to wonder at the way they clashed and spat at each other but never broke apart and how, despite the apparent chaos, there was an order to the sea that was only truly challenged by the actions of the wind.
Ahead was their target, picked out in ten and more differing pulses of energy density. Water of course was the ship’s greatest constituent, but the complexities that made up wood, and the simple ones representing the sail canvas and indeed the rigging ropes were there for the skilled adept to see.
‘Now then, let’s see how far we can push ourselves,’ said Takaar.
‘What do you plan to do, take out a mast or something?’ joked Drech.
‘I think we can do an awful lot better than that. A shame most of them won’t see this, but we can reprise it another time.’
‘See what?’ asked Drech, excitement edging his mind.
‘Lend me your strength. Keep the flow steady. No spikes, because I’m going to try something a little reckless.’
‘You do surprise me.’
‘Concentrate!’
Drech did as Takaar asked
. He placed his hands on Takaar’s shoulders to make the transfer more solid and fed his mind’s energy into Takaar’s body for him to use in bolstering his own. Takaar accepted the gift with a grunt and set to work. Drech watched him and quickly saw what he was attempting.
Every impulse within him bade him pull away and shout at Takaar to try something else, because what he was doing, if it went astray and fed back through the elemental lines, would kill them both instantly. But he resisted. Takaar had never been wrong. He clung to that thought while Takaar teased at the water energies across the divide between the two ships.
Drech was watching elven magic’s greatest practitioner at work, and he never ceased to wonder at the combination of delicacy and strength of will that Takaar brought to bear. It was artistry, and no one could ever hope to better him. Takaar was channelling the unbridled force of elemental water through himself, using himself as a stopper in a bottle, keeping the raw destructive power inside and releasing only that which he required to do his work. No wonder he had need of Drech’s energy.
Drech watched him tease out strand after strand and gather them as if they were threads caught in his fist. And when Drech was sure he had enough, Takaar carried on, never once faltering but whispering words to himself that gave him the confidence to continue.
When at last he was done, Takaar gave a little laugh. ‘So. Let’s see what we have learned today,’ he said.
With his mind he jerked the strands aside. For an instant, ephemeral and terrifying, nothing happened. Then water cascaded from the air around the target’s hull and fell to the sea in a myriad drops. The hull was reduced to dust scattered across the water. Drech caught the merest glimpse of cargo, furnishings and men tumbling towards the water when the ship’s deck, deprived of support, slapped down on the surface.
Takaar roared with laughter.
‘Look what I’ve done! Look!’
Drech stared. For a few moments the hull-less deck slid on, and then the weight of the mast, sails and superstructure defeated it and it tipped onto its side, balanced by the sailcloth and mast timbers before beginning to settle.
Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura Page 9