Auum frowned.
‘Is—?’ began Rebraal.
The crowd surged forward, crashing hard against the barrier. Auum saw the casting mages stagger under the weight. Their casting flickered then steadied. Auum was on the move.
‘Someone’s orchestrating that,’ he said. ‘Tai, we move.’
Ghaal and Miirt ran ahead, down the two flights of steps and out onto the harbour side, heading directly for the trouble. The apron was crowded, noisy and deeply unhappy. Crying children led by their parents. Angry shouts for speed and order. Al-Arynaar shepherding elves to their boats or directly aboard the docked ships. Confusion was rife. It was ever going to be this way.
Auum saw the elven wave roll back again. Rebraal was shouting for more mage support. The Al-Arynaar line stood back a pace and readied themselves. One or two refugees were still squeezing through the opening on production of papers. Many would never make it because their fellows had lost their courage.
‘But can you blame them?’ said Auum as they ran.
‘I cannot,’ said Miirt. ‘What must we do?’
‘Protect the chosen,’ said Auum. ‘That is Yniss’s task for us this day.’
He felt both his Tai pause in their strides before nodding and eating up the last yards to stand in front of their Al-Arynaar comrades. Auum stood dead centre of the defence. Through the yellow tint he could see all he needed: a line of elves about ten rows back, clapping in time, generating noise, order and anger. The crowd ran against the wall again. The casting shivered violently. One mage cried out and crumpled. The other three still held.
‘What’s happening?’ hissed Auum. ‘Why is this casting so weak?’
Ghaal nodded his head towards the rising fires and the burgeoning heat closing in on the city. ‘Garonin. They take too much mana from the air. Ix is weak today and our mages can find no consistency.’
The elves without had paused to see the effect of their work.
‘End this futility,’ shouted Auum into the moment’s relative calm. ‘Please. It cannot end well for any of us.’
‘Not bad for you, TaiGethen!’ came a shout. ‘You get to live. We get to burn.’
‘I know you, Halis. At the Caeyin you chose to stay, did you not? Despite my warnings. You had your chance. Another more worthy elf will travel in your place.’
Quiet had fallen and was spreading out across the harbour. Eyes and ears turned, sensing something.
‘You have to offer us a way out.’
Auum straightened. ‘All I can offer you are my prayers.’
Halis laughed. It was a short, bitter sound. ‘And our souls will be trapped without rest much as our bodies are now. We will take ship and you will not stop us.’
Auum stared into the eyes of those in the front rank of the crowd.
‘Yes, I will.’
‘He cannot stop us all,’ urged Halis.
Auum let his finger trail along the line of ten or so frightened, desperate elves.
‘Who of you does not believe me? I have no desire to prove myself upon you. All the ships are full. You are putting your lives above those of your fellows. Do you really believe yourselves more worthy than those with papers whom you hold back? Yniss turns his head in shame from such conceit. It is you who should turn. Pray while you still have the time. Invest your energy in the survival of our race. Prepare your souls because we will free you to travel.
‘Do not test me, for I will not fail.’
‘Filthy Ynissul lies,’ spat Halis. ‘He claims more life yet how long has he already lived? We only have one chance to live. This is it. Push.’
The barrier shimmered for a moment and Auum heard Miirt curse under her breath. Seeing the spell weaken energised the crowd and Halis felt it, beginning his rhythmic clapping again.
‘Tai, be ready,’ said Auum. He pushed the regrets and the guilt from his mind.
‘We need to get those with papers through these crowds,’ said Ghaal.
‘I know,’ said Auum. ‘We need the TaiGethen in the crowd, not fighting them. Damn these fools. I am ashamed to be an elf when I look upon them.’
Those near the front of the crowd could hear him. One or two had the decency to look guilty but none turned away. Like a spring tide, the crowd surged against the barrier once more. It guttered, wavering on the verge of settling for a moment, and then collapsed.
Ten wide, the crowd stumbled forward, some tripping, others leaping across the fallen. Death was behind them and it reduced their compassion to ashes. Auum’s Tai stood before them, unflinching. The advance lost momentum. Auum could read the indecision in their faces. None would have faced TaiGethen before. Few, if any, would have seen them in action. Reputation stole the will from them, just for now.
Auum stared at the central figures in the front row, urged on by those standing safely behind. The truth was that a surge would roll over TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar warrior alike.
‘Stand fast,’ said Auum, pointing at one scared elf. ‘Remember your words on crossing to adulthood.’
His Tai intoned: ‘ “Unto my race, I pledge my life. That my death should serve my people, such shall be my fate. Gladly accepted. Proudly travelled.” ’
‘Then swap places, TaiGethen,’ called a voice. ‘Serve your people.’
‘Gladly,’ said Auum. ‘And can I count on you to fight the Garonin street by street to allow the last ships to sail? Will you speak with the Lord of the Mount in Xetesk and describe our slim chance of survival? Will you finally lead the rest of our people to the west to talk with Tessaya, Lord of the Wesmen?
‘Which of you will do this in the service of your race and hope to succeed?’
A momentary pause was followed by a ripple in the crowd. There was forward movement.
‘Not another pace,’ warned Auum.
He kept his arms by his sides; the jaqrui pouch on his belt was closed and his twin swords remained sheathed.
‘We are many,’ shouted a voice. ‘And the ships won’t wait. See the sails flying. To remain is to die.’
People burst forward. Fists were bunched. Crazed expressions replaced fear. Auum swayed inside a flailing blow and thumped the heel of his palm into an elven chest. The elf was propelled back into the crowd.
‘Yniss forgive me,’ he whispered.
Miirt dropped and swept the legs from another. She bounced back up to catch a punch in one hand and slam a fist into the chin of the same elf, knocking him senseless. Ghaal blocked a blow aside, paced forward and kicked out straight into the midriff of his opponent. The elf staggered back. Ghaal stepped in, both fists hammering out, taking down two more. Auum, next to him, and Miirt on Auum’s right, moved up as one.
‘We need that casting back,’ called Auum. ‘Tai, let us take the head from this beast. Arrowhead formation. Mind your flanks.’
Halis, his face contorted and reddened with his rage, was standing and shouting not more than ten yards away. Auum moved onto the offensive. He set himself a pace in front of his Tai, freeing his legs. One pace and he spun a kick into the temple of the elf in front of him. He twisted on his standing leg, reversed another kick into the chest of a second. He landed to face the next three. Auum punched the first square on the nose, splitting skin, The next he flattened with a reverse punch to the side of the head and the third pressed himself back into the crowd.
‘Get out of my way,’ hissed Auum.
All the impetus had gone from the surge. Twenty had been downed before the ordinary elf had time to draw breath. Some were unconscious. Any who moved were dragged aside by Al-Arynaar. The weight of the mass pressed against those at its head but none wanted to be next to face the TaiGethen, on whom not a blow had been landed.