‘Oh no,’ breathed Auum. ‘He’s going to lose it right in front of them.’
The crowd began to stir, many looking up at the mage, who was some way distant and no threat whatever. Others were pointing at Takaar, and more than one called for him to be helped. Auum ran over, stood in front of Takaar and looked at him. He paled visibly.
‘He needs help,’ said Auum. ‘Quickly.’
Pelyn and Katyett both moved. Takaar pushed Auum away.
‘No.’ He turned and Katyett pulled up short, seeing the pallor of his face, the tremble in his lower lip and the red filling the whites of his eyes. Sweat covered his features and a vein pulsed in his temple. ‘It’s coming. The magic is coming. That mage is not searching. He’s watching.’
‘He’s-’ began Katyett.
A deep-brown magical orb arced across the sky, trailing steam behind it. It hung at its apex for a moment, beguiling the crowd, which stared up, entranced. The orb began to fall.
‘Scatter!’ yelled Katyett. ‘Get under the canopy.’
Iad and ula, screaming and shouting, scattered, looking for shelter, a way out, anything. The orb crashed through the broad leaves of trees high above them. It ploughed into the branch of a mighty banyan that acted as the outer stay of the bivouac and exploded into a thousand tears of fire as big as a fist. They showered down across the camp.
Order disintegrated. Undergrowth, grass, leaf and branch were set ablaze. Elves were thrown to the ground, their flesh eaten in heartbeats by the voracious magical flames. Screams rose with the smoke and stench of burning. Ynissul ran blindly, pushing aside any who got in their path.
Katyett turned to her people inside the bivouac. ‘Illast, see Olmaat to safety. Head for the river and go south. TaiGethen, to the hunt. Sikaant, you’ll be needed by the lost out there in the forest. Pelyn, run the flanks of the Ynissul – you’re the last defence they have. Find the men. Kill them.’
TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar flowed out from under the bivouac, muttering prayers as they went, smearing their faces with brown and green paint. Katyett watched them help Ynissul from the ground, those that could be helped. She heard cries of fear and shouts for help. Dozens lay out there, dead or dying. Nothing to do for them now but pray for their souls to find the embrace of Shorth.
More orbs filled the sky alongside the rain Katyett had seen falling over the city a few nights ago.
‘Yniss preserve us,’ said Grafyrre.
An orb detonated on the roof of the bivouac. It ripped skin, timber and palm apart. Blew the moss of years to dust and sent the whole lot crashing down to the forest floor. To the rear of the bivouac, Katyett saw Illast and his Tai dive out with Olmaat on his stretcher, clinging on as he bumped and slid along the ground.
Auum grabbed Katyett’s arm and dragged her out into the blazing camp. Roof supports thundered down in their wake. Fire fell around them. Orbs smashed through the thin canopy, splattering across the roofs of dormitories, immolating brush and torching the carpet of grass. Bodies were consumed where they fell.
Katyett stared about her, desperate for sight of Takaar. Auum held her steady, weaving a path through the fire deluging the ruined haven. An orb battered into a small stand of trees to their right, sending fire lashing out across the camp in head-high sheets. Auum dived, taking Katyett down with him. She landed and rolled, waking from her trance. She came to her feet. Auum was staring at her. She nodded and the two of them sprinted under the canopy.
South and east, the shouts of panicked civilians were a beacon for the enemy. The shrieks and cries sounded muffled through the canopy. Countless animals, startled at the sounds of elves and terrified by the smell of burning and the sight of fire, set up a deafening cacophony all around the camp. The human attack had been expertly laid. The Ynissul were scattered from their protectors, easy prey. But the king predators of the forest had been set loose: TaiGethen were thick on the ground.
Katyett came to a halt and turned. Grafyrre and Merrat were right behind her. Marack and Takaar in their wake. Takaar had vomit on his chin and down the front of his shirt. He looked groggy, on the verge of passing out. The flames were gorging on the land immediately behind, roaring and hissing. Smoke and steam billowed up to skies darkening for the next rains.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ said Takaar.
Katyett made to reply but Auum touched her on the arm and shook his head.
‘Hoping that one of those things falls on my head and I die screaming. Chilmatta nun kerene. You can stop chanting it. I’ve heard it all before.’ He stared at Katyett. ‘I’ve lost my blowpipe.’
‘Takaar,’ said Katyett firmly. ‘Listen to me.’
More orbs fell on the camp, blasting little more than ash now. The fires were beginning to eat into the dense canopy. Fires that rain would struggle to extinguish. Takaar dragged his head around and fixed Katyett with a gaze full of pain and fury. Katyett flinched.
‘I know where they lie,’ he said and moved off at startling speed.
Katyett ran after him, seeing how his feet made barely an impression on the forest floor and his body hardly touched the thick vegetation around him.
‘Marack, Auum, make a cell with Takaar. Marack, you’re leader. Graf, Merrat, to me. Let’s do some damage.’ Onelle had lost Rydd. The surge out of the camp, the blooming heat from the castings and the confusion of the dark beneath the heavy canopy had generated such panic. The shouts of lost and injured iad and ula echoed hollowly through the thick, grasping vegetation. The stench of burned flesh followed her through the hanging branches and tangled vine and liana. There was noise everywhere yet she found herself alone.
She ran left, then straight ahead and then right. Chasing the fading sounds of other Ynissul. Onelle called out for Rydd twice but heard nothing other than the calls of animals. She couldn’t understand how she had lost them all. She thought she’d been heading towards the stream, but perhaps she hadn’t left the camp that way after all. So hard to remember in all the confusion.
Eventually, she stopped and rested against the bole of a tree. She checked the ground for anything dangerous before letting her back slide down the bark till she was squatting, mainly hidden by ferns. She remembered one thing Katyett told her. That she wouldn’t hear TaiGethen, that only civilians and enemies made noise in the forest. So she decided to wait and listen while she tried to orient herself.
Onelle looked up to find the sun but there was only the green and black of the canopy. Full of life and death. She knew she should be able to see flames from the camp still, but turning around in her hiding place, she could see nothing in any direction. A haze of smoke drifted around her. It didn’t help.
The screaming began then. Faint at first but growing louder and closer very quickly. Six Ynissul came past her. Two hanging on to each other. Another four trying to push them along more quickly. They kept looking over their shoulders. They needed to look ahead, Onelle wanted to shout but didn’t.
A human stepped into their path. He swung a sword and carved into the front pair at the waist. Blood slapped into broad leaves. The elves tumbled sideways together. The other four stopped, split and ran. A man came up from behind and swept his blade through the back of one. A second fetched up against a tree and begged for mercy. The blade was driven straight through her unprotected heart.
Onelle put a hand to her mouth to stop herself crying out. She was shaking. The tears were streaming down her face. She didn’t want to see what happened to the other two but someone had to be able to report it.
The surviving Ynissul had both stopped running and were backing away, holding out their hands but saying nothing. Three swordsmen moved towards them. Smiling. How she would have liked to smear those smiles from their ugly faces and turn them into blood. She took her hand from her mouth and made it into a claw. Her nails were good and sharp. Perhaps she should.