Beyond the Mists of Katura e-3

by James Barclay

  Her body turned to blood and burst asunder.

  Chapter 35

  It will for ever be a source of sorrow and regret that the Sundering which gave wing to the powers of the four colleges also gave wing to that of the Wytch Lords.

  Sipharec, High Mage of Julatsa.

  The screams stopped the fighting. Shamen staggered back feeling the force of something ricocheting through their bodies. Wesman warriors stared past the TaiGethen, backing up, fearing something more than the unseen cut of an elven blade.

  Grafyrre paused in mid-strike, spinning to look back at Stein and Ystormun. The Wytch Lord was gesturing towards the mages as if shooing children gently from his path. And they were standing there, transfixed and shuddering, unable to move, and their expressions tore at his heart.

  Their screams gained in volume, splitting the sky with the purest terror he had ever heard, and one by one their faces reddened, darkened and split open as if smashed from the inside. Grafyrre started to run to their aid but Merrat grabbed his shoulder.

  Grafyrre turned, barely taking in the surreal scene of Wesman and TaiGethen standing almost shoulder to shoulder, beguiled by the horror Ystormun had unleashed. Movement among the mages caught his eye, and he saw three get to their feet and flee. But the rest could not break themselves free. Seeing their friends die one by one, they died too, shrieking their terror, consumed by the darkest of magic and taken to a place where even Shorth would fear to tread.

  The last of the transfixed mages perished, and a merciful peace replaced the dread cries. Ystormun raised his head, glanced at the three escaping mages, turned and strode towards the village, towards Grafyrre and his TaiGethen. Merrat’s hand tightened on Grafyrre’s shoulder, who swallowed, a chill coursing through his veins as the Wytch Lord’s eyes fell on them.

  He had never experienced fear before but he did now. In that moment he understood what it was to be truly helpless in the face of your greatest terror. You could not strike a thing like that. You could not do it harm or defeat it. You could only do one thing.

  ‘Run.’

  For the briefest of moments Auum thought Stein would succeed at the first attempt. The shamen moving to strike at them had stopped and turned as if lacking direction, and the press of magic had eased. Seizing the moment, Auum had led a counter-charge which Sentaya had joined.

  Stein’s remaining mages had dumped fire on the shamen they could reach and blasted ice through the Wesman lines. If the numbers he was facing were anything to go by, they had killed a third of the remaining enemy warriors and reduced the shaman numbers by half. Not enough, given the casualties among Sentaya’s people.

  Auum sidestepped a downward chop, jabbed his right elbow into the Wesman’s temple and carved his left blade across the back of his neck, half-severing his head. He dragged his blade clear and kicked the body aside. Tilman, gaining in confidence and using Auum’s knife as a second weapon, jabbed his blade into the mouth of his opponent and drove him back and over with a decent kick to the gut.

  Auum was weighing up his next foe when the screams rolled across the battlefield. The tenor of the sound cut across the roar of the melee, and the fighting stopped. Auum stepped back and jumped into the air to see the scene further up the shallow rise. He saw blurred shapes streaming towards them, TaiGethen under the shetharyn; and behind them he saw Ystormun marching towards the battle.

  Auum landed, pirouetted and smashed a kick into the face of his enemy. He felt cold. Stein was gone, then, and most of his mages with him. Ystormun had destroyed them in the blink of an eye and was moving to finish the job.

  ‘Hold!’ he yelled, hearing Sentaya pick up the call. ‘Break on my word.’

  The shamen had turned and the Wesmen ahead of them returned to the battle with renewed energy. The defensive line was forced back by weight of numbers.

  ‘What’s happened?’ shouted Tilman over the din.

  Auum angled his right blade and deflected away a strike meant for the human’s flank. He thrashed his left blade into the enemy’s neck and reversed it immediately back across the face of his next opponent, who jerked back, avoiding the cut by a hair.

  ‘Concentrate!’ barked Auum. ‘Ulysan!’

  Ulysan snapped a side kick high into the face of his enemy, stepped into the space and rammed a blade into his gut.

  ‘With you, skipper.’

  ‘He was waiting for it,’ said Auum. ‘That bastard was waiting for us to go for him.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Go for the skirmish points. Wait for the signal. Make sure the left flank watches the shamen.’

  Auum blocked an axe blade left, reached in and nicked his right blade through the leather jerkin of his enemy and slashed it up across his chest. He stepped back and let the axe crash back down. He stepped on the haft and chopped down into the Wesman’s shoulder, putting him on the ground.

  Tilman took a heavy blow on his blade and staggered back. He was off balance and his knife arm was flailing to recover. The axe man circled his weapon ready for the decapitating blow and Auum moved fast right, leaning over hard and swiping his blade in to out, chopping into the axe man’s arm, carving deep. His left flank was exposed. A Wesman stepped in, hacking with his sword. Auum snapped his left leg up and kicked under the warrior’s wrist, holding the blade high. Ulysan jammed a blade under his arm. The Wesman fell back, and the axe man dropped his weapon.

  ‘Thank you,’ managed Tilman.

  ‘A TaiGethen is never alone,’ said Auum. ‘Ulysan, shamen approaching. On my go. .’

  Ulysan yelled a command to the TaiGethen holding the left flank. Sentaya understood it and carried the word to his people. In moments it had travelled to the elves on the right flank too. Some of Sentaya’s warriors broke away and ran back into the village. The Julatsan elves lined up with them in the oval.

  ‘Il-Aryn, barriers ready!’ called Auum.

  He couldn’t afford the time to look towards the back of the village where Rith and her people were under cover, but the word was carried back. Auum fenced with a powerful swordsman, cutting him across both arms. Tilman was tiring next to him and under pressure again. Ulysan struck an enemy’s arm off at the shoulder, spraying blood across all three of them as the shamen gathered, almost ready.

  ‘Go!’ called Auum.

  Ulysan roared the command to break. Auum turned, grabbed Tilman and, half-carrying the youth, sprinted away to his position behind Sentaya’s house. They ran through a line of archers whose bows were tensed and ready and on through mages waiting to cast.

  Auum heard Sentaya order the release and arrows shot away. Moments later six orbs of fire flew over the oncoming enemy to scatter the shamen, catching some and destroying their concentration. Hailstorms flew out across the arc of the charge, ripping leather and furs, flaying the skin from faces and slicing the flesh from fingers.

  Sentaya’s men dropped their bows once more and charged back into the fray, a thin line of courageous warriors knowing their chances of survival were minimal. The mages dropped back to cover among the sixty or so buildings making up the village. The enemy broke around to the left and right of Sentaya’s warriors and the TaiGethen streaked back out to get among them.

  ‘Stay here,’ Auum ordered Tilman.

  Auum and Ulysan scaled Sentaya’s stockade and stood to look out beyond the village. The shamen were gathering again, but behind them the TaiGethen from Stein’s failed attempt on Ystormun were approaching. Auum smiled, watching them streak in behind a group of shamen close to the village readying to attack the Il-Aryn and Julatsans behind the right flank.

  ‘Count the shamen. We need them down fast.’

  Ulysan began counting as the TaiGethen struck the shamen, dropping out of the shetharyn. Wesmen turned to their aid but were far too late. Seven went down at a stroke. Auum watched as Merrat, Graf, Merke and Faleen led the group of eleven TaiGethen at a run back towards the village.

  Auum sensed Ystormun switch his attention to them. He saw the Wytch
Lord raise a hand and jab the heel of his palm out. Auum tracked across to the right and for a moment nothing happened. Then one of the dead or dying shamen moved, his body jerking and convulsing. Soon the others began to do the same, twitching where they lay. And from their bodies rose a wave of dark energy, broad at its base and with grasping fingers at its leading edge.

  Auum didn’t even have time to shout the warning they wouldn’t have heard. The wave snatched across the gap of some fifty yards to the escaping TaiGethen and broke over them, grasping at them, dragging them down, enveloping them and reducing their bodies to bloody fragments.

  Auum almost fell from the stockade. Only Ulysan’s strong arm kept him upright as the two of them stared at the scene in horror. Four were still running. One paused to turn, hoping to help his fallen brothers and sisters.

  ‘No,’ whispered Auum. ‘Keep moving. Who’s still standing?’

  ‘Faleen, Siraaj, Grafyrre and Merke,’ said Ulysan. ‘He took seven for seven.’

  ‘He killed Merrat just like that. How can we beat such power?’ asked Auum.

  Ulysan’s grip tightened on Auum and they jumped down back into cover next to Tilman.

  ‘We take the last eleven shamen, we isolate Ystormun, and the Il-Aryn and Julatsans must hold him until-’

  ‘Until when, Ulysan? No one is coming. Not soon enough.’

  ‘Then we fight to the last man,’ said Tilman, his voice tremulous but his grip on his weapon strong. ‘And elf of course. And we show him no fear.’

  Auum managed a fleeting smile. ‘You’ll make a fine warrior.’

  Tilman blushed. There was a commotion over to their right. Julatsan spells were falling behind the enemy lines and in front of the Wesmen forming up to join the attack on that flank. An Il-Aryn barrier flashed into place and black fire slammed into it, picking at its edges. It held for a moment before shattering.

  ‘Come on,’ said Auum.

  He led his unique cell across the oval, seeing Sentaya still up and fighting. The Il-Aryn had changed tactics and so far they were working. Small domes shimmered into existence over the two remaining groups of shamen every few paces, forcing them to break the wards before moving on. Auum could see Rith crouched on a rooftop at the back of the village directing their placement. It would only delay the inevitable, but it was smart and bought Sentaya a few precious moments.

  Auum ran around the right flank, where Marack was organising the dwindling TaiGethen into five cells.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Auum on the way past.

  Marack smashed her blades into a Wesman face and stomach, turning her head briefly as the blood splattered across her features. Her grin was fierce.

  ‘TaiGethen survivors incoming,’ she said then raised her eyebrows. ‘And the Senserii.’

  Auum’s heart leaped. Marack turned back to the fight. Wesmen were running in again, too many to hold off.

  ‘Break with them,’ said Auum. ‘Get fire on the shamen if you can. Protect the mages.’

  ‘It’s done,’ said Marack.

  Auum sprinted away. He could see a group of elves tearing across the ground, light glinting from the blades tipping their staffs.

  ‘Where’s Takaar?’ asked Auum when he reached them.

  Gilderon pointed past him. ‘Already in the village with the Il-Aryn. He had some ideas.’

  ‘I think I’ve seen one of them already. We have to get him to Ystormun. Can he destroy him?’

  ‘He plans to hold him until the Xeteskians arrive.’ Gilderon indicated a smudge of dust away to the east. ‘They can cage him.’

  ‘Then let’s get him to Ystormun, it’s a reunion that’s long overdue.’

  ‘Which way?’ asked Gilderon.

  ‘There. Ystormun’s heading in from the north.’

  Auum looked back across the village. Spears of black slapped into Sentaya’s line, scattering burning and blistered warriors across the oval. A black sphere the size of a boulder and shot through with pure white crashed into the first buildings, shattering wood and bursting through stone walls, smearing the bodies of the Communion mages inside across the stone.

  Ystormun was at the gates.

  The enemy warriors surged forward as their remaining shamen sought targets among the survivors. The defensive line, already compromised by Ystormun’s intervention, was shattered along two thirds of its length, and with enemies pouring in behind them the rest of the line broke too.

  Auum glanced back at the mage and Il-Aryn positions, seeing Grafyrre leading his surviving TaiGethen towards them, cutting off the advance of attacking Wesmen. Auum could see the fury in Grafyrre’s face and in every blow he struck. Merrat had been his closest friend for three thousand years, and his death in such a manner would be hard avenged on his enemies.

  ‘Tilman, get to the mages, find Takaar and bring him back to us. We’re cutting a path to that bastard.’

  ‘I want to fight with you,’ said Tilman, fearing a slight.

  ‘And so you shall, but your task is critical. Takaar must join us or Ystormun will kill us all.’

  Tilman nodded and hurried away. Auum winked at Ulysan.

  ‘Gets him out of harm’s way,’ he said. ‘Takaar will see Ystormun long before Tilman finds him.’

  Two Senserii had gone with Takaar. Auum led Ulysan and the twelve others back into the fight. The battle line had dissolved into a confusion of skirmishes across the oval and around buildings, paddocks and yards. This reduced the effectiveness of the shamen, forcing them to seek out individual enemies for fear of striking their own. But behind them, directing them, was Ystormun, his eyes everywhere, always seeking his greatest adversaries.

  ‘I’m coming to you, you bastard,’ muttered Auum.

  The TaiGethen and Senserii flowed across the ground, spreading through the fighting. Auum took the centre with Ulysan and Gilderon. Auum watched the enemy tactics evolve. They outnumbered Sentaya and the elves by three to one at least, allowing them to keep one-on-one fights going while moving the shamen steadily to the right, under the guard of good numbers of fresh warriors.

  ‘They’re heading for our casting positions!’ called Auum. ‘Drive on, but help Sentaya on our way.’

  Auum was about fifty yards from the first knot of shamen, which was moving quickly to an open position. He sprinted forward feeling the comforting presence of Ulysan at his left shoulder and the strength of Gilderon to his right. The oval was crowded with fighting and dying. Auum raised his blades above his head and both he and Ulysan stepped up to leap high over the heads of the combatants. Auum brought his legs into a tuck and hacked down with his right blade, feeling it bite into the top of an enemy skull.

  He landed, bent his right knee and battered a kick into the chin of a warrior getting the better of one of Sentaya’s men. The flash of a blade on his right was Gilderon. His ikari speed was without equal. The petrified wood, strong as steel, levered between three enemies pressing a single warrior.

  The flow of Gilderon’s arms and the balance of his body were perfect. He struck the leftmost in the face with one blade, stabbed the rightmost in the throat with the other, and his momentum carried him forward to butt the third square on the bridge of the nose.

  Auum ran on, dropping and cutting his blade through an enemy’s hamstrings, kicking out sideways to crack into knee joint or hip. Ulysan beside him was using his fists and body among the flailing steel, snapping out punches to kidneys, rolling and thudding fists up into groins and shouldering enemies off balance. Everywhere they and the Senserii passed, Sentaya’s men could close and counter-attack.

  But the body count was high. Defenders, people Auum had seen hugging their children, lay burned or run through, blood pooling before it soaked into the ground. Auum burst through the last of the fighters and into clear space, acutely aware he was momentarily turning his back towards Ystormun.

  He took a glance at the Wytch Lord, who was surveying the battlefield. He opened his palm and another black orb seared out to demolish a buildi
ng on the edge of the village. Wesmen surged into the space, racing towards the defenders’ casting positions. Auum had to assume Grafyrre would see them.

  Auum charged towards a running group of five shamen encircled by Wesmen. He pulled a jaqrui from its pouch.

  ‘Gilderon, the warriors. Ulysan, with me.’

  ‘As you command,’ said Gilderon.

  The Senserii lifted his staff and circled it above his head. His brothers moved in on either flank to form a semicircle and drove in as the shamen shouted warnings and ran on. Wesmen stopped to intercept the attack and the Senserii engulfed them. The shamen slowed and turned, already casting.

  Gilderon fenced away an overhead blow and jammed a blade tip into his attacker’s gut. Auum hurdled the falling body and flung his jaqrui at the shaman in his path. It caught his shoulder, knocking him to the dirt. Ulysan’s crescent fared better, lodging in his target’s throat. The other three opened their hands.

  Auum readied to leap but a shimmering barrier snapped into place in front of him. Thick rods of black fire burst against the barrier, destroying it but getting no further. Auum had time to raise hand in salute towards Rith before stepping in and hammering his left blade into the mouth of one of the shamen. Ulysan decapitated another, swivelled and kicked the third in the side of the head, knocking him into Auum’s path. Auum glared down at him.

  ‘How’s that for magic?’ he said.

  His blade pierced the shaman’s chest, and the holy man spewed blood from his mouth before his eyes dimmed. Behind them came an inhuman howl, and Auum’s blood chilled. He spun around. Gilderon whirled his staff in front of him and lashed one tip across the throat of his enemy. Beyond him Ystormun had stopped and was staring straight at them.

  Auum replayed the death of Merrat.

  ‘Ulysan!’

  But Ystormun had already turned away and was moving rapidly towards the defenders’ casting positions. Auum saw barriers placed in his way at every step, but he simply beat them aside.