Grafyrre smiled to himself. The humans could feel something and it was making them anxious. They were staring into the night beyond their fire but could see nothing. They were glancing at the doors to the warehouse too, and it was there that their poor senses told them all was not well.
Right on cue the chanting began, and it sent shivers through Grafyrre. Rhythmic clapping accompanied the voices. They sang prayers to Cefu, Gyal, Beeth and even Yniss. Humans flew to their feet or ran back from where they had been standing to gather by the line of barrels. Anxious glances were exchanged. Swords were drawn. The mages came together, standing behind the line of warriors. Orders were barked. A pair of swordsmen ran off down either side of the warehouse.
The volume of the singing grew steadily. Above, the clouds were deep and dark. Lightning flashed in their depths. Rain began to fall, hard and heavy.
‘Let us not waste this blessing,’ said Grafyrre. ‘We’ll take the mages. Marack, take Pakiir and Ekuurt as your Tai. Target the swords. Don’t move inside the line of barrels. And we need something to batter down the doors from distance. There has to be a mast on the dock somewhere. The master used to keep a dozen in the warehouse. Faleen. Find one. TaiGethen, we move.’
Grafyrre and Merrat tore out onto the harbourside. A moment later, Marack’s Tai followed them, moving directly at the warriors. The noise of chant and rain masked their approach. Only belatedly did the men sense their peril. They turned and shouted warnings. Mages began to move, gesturing and muttering as they went.
Running towards the fire, Grafyrre saw Marack’s Tai begin their assault. Jaqruis flew out. The soldiers reacted fast. One missed high, a second man deflected his away with his blade and a third man ducked. A jaqrui thudded into the warehouse doors. Sharp white light encased the weapon in a lattice of flashing, spitting energy.
Marack drew both her blades. She raced in towards the line of men. To their right, the mages were still, heads bowed in concentration. Grafyrre powered towards the fire, Merrat by his side. They leapt, turning triple somersaults high over the hissing flames, feet slapping down in a deep puddle right in front of the mage trio.
To a man they flinched and backed off. Grafyrre bared his teeth. His left hand drew the blade from his right-side back scabbard and he chopped the edge through the shoulder of the first mage, crashing through his collar bone and into top of his ribcage. His right hand speared out, straight-fingered, crushing the windpipe of the second.
Merrat kicked the third mage in the gut. He fell back. Merrat turned her body sideways and struck with the base of her left foot, catching the mage under the chin. He lifted from the ground and smacked head first into the stone. Merrat drew a blade and ripped open his throat.
Turning, Grafyrre saw four bodies already on the ground. He saw Pakiir drop and sweep the legs from a swordsman. Ekuurt leapt over Pakiir and landed on the man’s chest, driving a blade into his heart. Pakiir jabbed up from his crouched position, his blade slicing into the waist of another. Ekuurt lashed around two-handed, embedding his sword into the gut of a third.
Marack fenced with a skilled swordsman, who launched a swift attack, feinting to strike down and left but reversing his angle and coming in right. Marack blocked the blow and leapt back. The man came on. Marack ducked a blow to the neck and another to the stomach. A third strike came low at her legs. Marack leapt above it, her right foot snapping out and catching the man in the chest. He was knocked back. Marack landed and spun, unwinding a high kick that slammed into the side of her opponent’s head. He reeled sideways. Marack stepped in and lodged her blade in his heart.
Ekuurt swayed away from a flailing sword. He balanced instantly and lunged with his right-hand blade. The human deflected it with the dagger in his off hand. Another came to join him. Ekuurt backed away a pace. The two warriors attacked together, blades flashing in left and right. Ekuurt blocked both strikes with his blades. A dagger drove deep into his chest. Blood gushed from his mouth. He fell.
Grafyrre and Merrat joined the fight. Grafyrre dragged his blade across the back of a warrior’s thighs. He collapsed in a heap. Grafyrre side-kicked into the face of another. The blade of a third whipped in neck high. Merrat’s block deflected it and she followed up with her second blade, opening a deep gash on her enemy’s face.
Still the chanting rang out and the rain drummed down. On the doors of the warehouse, though the wood was untouched, the jaqrui had melted and dripped to the stone flags of the harbour, where it spat and cooled in the rain. Grafyrre noted it, ducked a wild sweep and thrust up into the groin of his attacker. The man fell back.
Grafyrre drop-kicked him, both feet slamming into his chest. The man was thrust backwards through the barrel line, his body striking the door. He screamed. White lightning speared to his face, hands, mouth and eyes. It burned the hair from his head and ripped the flesh from his cheeks. His eyes smoked and his last shriek ended in a gout of flame from his throat.
Grafyrre swallowed and turned. One man remained. Brave. He faced the four TaiGethen with his sword ready. He beckoned them on with his free hand. From all around the warehouse the clanging of bells and the flat blare of trumpets erupted. Alarms calling the enemy to the dockside. The man grinned.
‘Too late for me. Too late for you as well. Open those doors and bring the whole place down.’
Marack stepped in from the side and sliced his throat with the tip of her blade.
‘Bleed,’ she said.
‘More will be coming,’ said Grafyrre. ‘We have to get those doors open. Faleen?’
‘Over here!’ she called, stripping sail cloth from three masts, loose rigging, barrels and crates. Grafyrre was heading towards her when he realised the singing had stopped. He skidded to a halt and ran back to the line of barrels. The rain was still falling in spears, rattling off tile and spatting high off stone, but he thought he could hear a voice.
‘Katyett, is that you?’ he shouted. ‘Katyett!’
Grafyrre edged closer. His eye was distracted by the smouldering corpse slumped in front of the doors. He definitely heard a voice this time. It sounded like a demand to know what was happening.
‘Katyett. If you can hear me. The guards are down. We have to break down the doors. Stand well back. Be ready to run. More enemies coming.’
He repeated the message three times. Turning, he saw his brothers and sisters heading his way with the mast of a coastal cutter slung between them. It was rigged for carrying with leather bands nailed to it in four places from which hung leather loops. Grafyrre ran to join them. They had the base of the mast forward.
‘Pakiir, Marack. Move back. That set of handles is too close when we hit the doors. Let’s hurry. I’ve asked those inside to stand back.’
‘Did they hear you?’ asked Merrat.
‘We’ll find out.’
Grafyrre joined Merrat at the second band. Faleen was on her own on the third with Pakiir and Marack on the last. The mast was heavy and awkward despite the carrying handles. The TaiGethen moved as smoothly as they could towards the doors. The rain had slackened a little but the alarms were still sounding their discordant summons. Time was short.
‘Straight in,’ said Grafyrre. ‘Push hard!’
They upped their pace. The mast knocked against their thighs, the leather handles bit into the palms of their hands. Ten feet of the fifty-foot length of mast was between them and the impact point. Grafyrre put his head down. Three paces later, the mast struck the doors. Timbers creaked. Lightning chased itself across the face of the doors. Splinters flew out and there was a deep dent. But no break.
‘Again!’
They backed up ten paces and ran in, slamming the mast base in as near to the original impact as possible. The splinters were bigger and the dent deeper. The flashes of lightning a shade darker.