‘Faleen, trust me,’ said Takaar. ‘Too many of them.’
Takaar felt for the line of force running through the clay layer. It was sluggish and easy to grab. He let the power of the land flood him, teasing out strand after strand to dance before him.
Takaar spread his hands, palms up. He took the power of the land across his shoulders, forced his arms up over his head, and a wall of mud and clay thirty yards wide and ten high erupted from the ground. Takaar staggered under the weight of it and felt the steadying hand of a Senserii on his back. He shifted his focus, drying the clay and hardening the barrier, moving the water aside and letting it fall on the enemy behind.
He dropped his arms by his side and drew in a shuddering breath.
‘Now I suggest we all run,’ he said.
Auum tore into the flank of the Wesman force, hacking left and right with his blades, fighting power with power. An enemy axe clashed against his right blade, sending sparks into the night, its edge opening a shallow cut on Auum’s cheek. Ulysan ducked a wild swipe and buried a blade in a Wesman gut, slicing it clear and spilling entrails across the ground.
Duele flew in at head height with his blades cocked in front of his face, left leg outstretched to connect with a Wesman chest. He landed behind the warrior line and in front of the shamen readying to cast their fire. Auum drove his shoulder into the warrior in front of him and rammed a blade into the top of his thigh. The tribesman went over, grabbing at Auum and pulling him down too.
Black fire slashed overhead. Il-Aryn castings responded, but their effect was diluted now. Auum heard an elven scream behind him. He rolled away from the Wesman, breaking his grip. Ignoring him, Auum drew a jaqrui and threw at the shamen, seeing it take the fingers from both hands of one on its way to jut from the skull of another.
‘Get the shamen!’ roared Auum.
Duele was already among them. His blades were in their scabbards and his fists and feet snapped out, breaking concentration, buying time for support to arrive. Auum saw Ulysan down a warrior with a sword pommel to the chin. The big TaiGethen moved forward. In front of him shamen moved the focus of their fire. Auum wanted to shout in warning but it would do no good.
Ulysan struck the head from one, but the other, standing two paces behind, was too far away. But the shaman didn’t get the chance to strike his killing blow. The black fire died on his fingertips as he clawed at the ikari jutting from his chest. Auum turned. The Senserii swept over the remains of the Wesman defence, which broke and scattered before them.
Auum nodded his thanks to Gilderon, who did not acknowledge him, stooping to twist his staff before dragging the blade clear.
‘Reform!’ called Auum.
The column came together and hurried on towards the opening gates. Horsemen galloped out followed by archers and swordsmen to form a corridor. The horsemen swept either side of the elven column, clearing Wesmen from their flanks. Spells arced out over their heads, crashing into the ground behind. Walls of fire erupted from the ground alongside them. Black fire fizzed and crackled. Auum saw a horseman taken from his mount, an axe in his back. Another flailed at the fire unpicking his chest.
‘Move! Run!’ shouted Auum. ‘Men are dying for us. Go, go!’
Auum ran down the column, urging them on. The Senserii made the gates, turning to stand and usher the Il-Aryn inside. Auum ran beside Drech.
‘What happened? Your castings stopped working.’
‘They drew on more power,’ said Drech. He looked exhausted. ‘So much to learn.’
‘You saved many.’
‘And lost some.’
‘It was unavoidable,’ said Auum.
He gripped Drech’s shoulder and rushed him through the guard and into the city before letting him go. Beyond the gates the night was ablaze. Horsemen thundered back into the city. Volleys of arrows and more spells covered their retreat. The last of the elves ran in, Auum seeing one of his TaiGethen in the arms of another, bleeding from a wound to the head. Takaar was carried in on the back of one of his Senserii.
Ulysan limped up to Auum, blood coming from a wound in his calf. Auum sheathed his blades.
‘That could have been worse,’ said Ulysan.
‘What happened to you?’
‘Stray arrow,’ said Ulysan. ‘Not deep.’
‘Get it seen to.’
Auum paused and drew breath. Now they were inside, the elves had stopped, as much cowed by the alien atmosphere of the city as they were fatigued by the run. Many were sitting by the side of the cobbled street, while people were emerging from tall houses to see who had come to their aid. Horsemen milled about, and from further up the street of tight-packed buildings he heard shouting.
Auum pushed through the crowd and a smile broke on his face.
‘I see you made it,’ he said.
Stein shook his hand. ‘Did you like the welcome committee?’
‘Just what we needed.’
‘Bring your people to the college. We can billet them all there, get the wounded seen to and work out what’s next. This isn’t going to go unchallenged by the Wytch Lords.’
Chapter 13
How can they live like this? Their houses loom over them like cruel masters, their streets throng with people packed so tight you cannot draw breath and their food is bland and colourless. Small wonder their faces look so grey.
They had reached the city with fewer casualties than Auum feared. Three Il-Aryn were dead, another five were wounded but responding. One TaiGethen had fallen and another three had severe wounds. Auum did not expect them to survive the night despite the ministrations of Julatsa’s keenest mages.
Grafyrre had arrived with his full complement of raiders about two hours later. They’d crawled their way to the walls and scaled them, surprising a defender or two before heading for the college and some hard-earned rest.
The college itself was dominated by its tower, the building that housed the growing Heart of Julatsa, the very centre of Julatsan magic. Auum felt burdened by the atmosphere within the building and knew it to be the pressure of the magical focus created by the Heart.
After a bath and the application of balms to ease a few muscle aches and to soothe the cut on his face, Auum had been led to a large circular chamber high up in the tower itself. From there he could see the city from the balcony that encircled the chamber. It was about half the size of Ysundeneth and felt cramped. Everything was forced within the walls, buildings rose three or four storeys high and the hubbub of noise was ceaseless.
The walls and guard towers were manned by swordsmen, archers and mages, a powerful defence against the attacking Wesmen, and yet within the atmosphere was anxious. Presumably food supplies would be getting short before too long, and there was always the fear of that which you could hear but not see.
The arrival of the elves had caused quite a stir and had, he was told, lifted the spirits of the entire city. The apparent ease with which they had broken through the enemy ranks had encouraged the populace to believe that victory was possible. But Auum did not like the role in which he and his small band of raiders were being cast. They were not here as saviours of the human race.
That thought remained with him when he was invited to sit at a long oval table with elves and men, most dressed in lavish robes that presumably signified some sort of status within the college and city. There were senior soldiers present too. Auum sat flanked by Stein and Drech on one side, Takaar on the other. Ulysan was on a chair behind him and Gilderon sat behind Takaar.