Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen (43 page)

Auum returned the gesture. ‘And while we stand, while Elyss looks down on our beating hearts, there is still hope.’

Orders carried on the light breeze. Behind Auum, Katura braced itself. Doors and shutters were fastened. Buckets and butts were checked for the hundredth time. The streets emptied. Elves stood proud and tall along the walls. Auum climbed down into the gatehouse proper and looked across the scorched ground.

The enemy marched. Their mages prepared.

The battle of Katura had begun.

Chapter 33

Nerille fastened her shutters and hurried down the stairs. She was shaking. Her sons were gone, two with Takaar and one to the ramparts dressed as a TaiGethen. Ulysan had told them if they took cover when the castings hit they should be all right, but the wall seemed a flimsy barrier.

Nerille had been in Ysundeneth when man’s magic had been unleashed for the first time. She would never forget the cries she had heard or the devastation she had witnessed that morning; and she was about to live through it all again.

She had done everything she could to help and was stationed with the quartermasters, handing out rations and keeping note of stock levels. Yesterday she’d seen the masses of food that had been brought in from the forest and the lake. She didn’t think the battle would last long enough for them to consume it all.

She’d overheard TaiGethen talking to the Al-Arynaar: the humans were not interested in a siege. This fight could well be finished in a day.

Downstairs, in the gloom behind her shuttered windows and with the armoured city wall just across the street from her, she paused to listen. Not even an addict was crying out. Those poor souls had been removed to the lakeside to fend for themselves while the capable worked for the TaiGethen and the wonderful Auum, who had suffered so much.

Straining her ears, she could hear the approaching army and a smattering of conversation from the ramparts. But otherwise the city was silent. Thousands upon thousands waited for their chance to fight. They’d all do well to pray.

A glint from the plate set on the small table by the front door caught Nerille’s eye. Her heart tumbled. It was her son’s charm, a silver pendant of Gyal blessing the forest with rain.

‘Jio, you idiot,’ she muttered.

His courage would falter without it. She snatched it up and ran outside, heading for the gatehouse and access to the ramparts. The street behind the wall was completely deserted but the sound of her people up on the wall was loud enough for her to know she was not alone.

Nerille trotted to the main road and to the gatehouse door, pulling it open. She darted inside, and straight into Auum’s arms. He caught her easily and looked at her, a moment’s confusion clearing quickly.

‘You can’t be here,’ he said, his face bright with tension. ‘Head to the stores; you’ll be safe there.’

‘I have to give this to Jio,’ said Nerille, holding out the pendant. ‘He’ll be lost without it.’

‘Where is he?’ asked Auum.

‘On the rampart, dressed like one of you. He said he was going to be positioned towards the river.’

‘I’ll take it to him,’ said Auum.

‘No,’ said Nerille. ‘He is my son and this is my chance to help him. I need to do this. I need to look into his eyes and know he will live.’

Auum kissed her forehead. ‘And it is your city. I understand. Go, but stay low and do not linger. Listen to the callers, and push hard into the wall if the alarm is given. Don’t take any chances.’

‘Bless you,’ she said.

Auum let her go and she made for the ladder up to the first level. He spoke just before she disappeared from his view.

‘Don’t you dare get hurt,’ he said. ‘I’m doing this for you.’

She smiled at him and climbed the last few rungs. City folk and Al-Arynaar looked at her. Some protested, but most were only concerned with what was coming towards them and turned away.

‘Jio,’ she said. ‘Where is Jio?’

An Al-Arynaar turned to her. It was Pelyn. Nerille caught herself before she gasped. Pelyn was sweating heavily, but not from the humid afternoon heat or from the weight of her cloak. Her eyes were sunken back into her head and her face was terribly pale. She looked fit to drop and was leaning on the gatehouse wall.

‘He is halfway along towards the river, but you shouldn’t risk going out there.’

‘I have to,’ she said.

Pelyn merely nodded. Nerille passed her on the way to the rampart and stopped to rest a hand on her arm.

‘How many days has it been now?’

Pelyn managed a smile but it was brief. ‘Eleven. It seems like a thousand years.’

‘You will break it,’ said Nerille. ‘You have the strength, I know it.’

‘Thank you,’ Pelyn whispered.

Nerille hurried out onto the rampart. Her eye was drawn to the blackened field below her and her breath caught in her throat. There they were, thousands of men all bent on her destruction. They came on with such precision, the soldiers with bows and swords ready and the mages behind them.

They marched in three sections: one directly at the gates, the second to the west and the open ground they all feared would be their undoing, and the third going straight for Jio and his friends. Each section boasted hundreds of soldiers and more mages than she had ever seen gathered in one place, not even during the dark days of the fall of Ysundeneth.

They couldn’t defeat this army. It was going to be a slaughter.

‘You’re not just going to stand there all day, are you?’

Nerille flinched and came back to herself. She looked round. Pelyn was at the gatehouse door.

‘No, I—’

‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘And then get to safety. There’s not much time.’

Nerille nodded, sucked in a deep breath and hurried along the rampart, asking after Jio every pace of the way. The rampart was narrow and crowded and her progress was slow. Ladders leaning against it every thirty paces or so merely added to the hazards she faced. She had to pick her way past swords and stands of arrows, apologising with every breath.

Suddenly, there he was. Standing tall, playing the part of a mighty TaiGethen, showing no fear to the enemy below. On the field below them, an order brought the army to a halt.

‘Jio!’

Her voice carried loud in the sudden silence. Dozens of heads turned to her and Jio’s jaw dropped in surprise.

‘Gyal’s breath, Mother, what are you doing here?’ he hissed, blushing scarlet and glancing at the smiles already cracking the faces of his friends despite the horror about to be unleashed on them.

‘Leave the house without cleaning your teeth, did you, Jio?’ said one.

‘Or perhaps Mummy is bringing you some dry clothes,’ said another.

‘I know. You left your lunch on the kitchen table, didn’t you?’

Raucous laughter, over-loud with nerves, rattled along the parapet.

Nerille ignored them and made her way to him and tried to hug him but he held her away.

‘Jio—’

‘The TaiGethen don’t hug their mothers before battle.’

Nerille felt a great rush of pride for him. She stroked his cheek.

‘Of course not, I’m sorry.’ She pulled his pendant from her pocket. ‘I brought you this. I didn’t want you to miss it.’

Jio’s hand went to the nape of his neck and his eyes widened.

‘Dear Yniss preserve me, I forgot it.’ Nerille placed it around his neck and gripped his hands. Jio’s smile lit up both their faces. ‘Thank you. Now I know I’ll live to see this battle won.’

‘Of course you will,’ she said.

‘Casting!’

The warning ran back and forth along the wall. Nerille looked out. The soldiers had all dropped to one knee. The mages were standing. Nerille felt a strange feeling come over her, like a wind that blew straight through her, warming her. The mages cast and Jio dragged her down, covering her with his body as they cowered behind the wall, praying it would hold.

The sound of castings froze her to her very core. A roaring and whistling sound, wrapped in endless rolls of thunder. The heat grew quickly and bright blue light cast them into a deep shadow behind the wall. The castings slammed into the gatehouse, the walls, and flew high overhead to land in the city.

Ten paces away, the top of the wall was blasted to rubble. Fire burst through, shattering the rampart and engulfing helpless defenders. Burning elves were hurled onto the street, thrashing and screaming as they fell. The wall shuddered under impact after impact and an ice casting landed right below them. She heard metal grind and protest and rivets pop. She heard stone blasted to dust.

Fire orbs detonated on the gatehouse roof. One flew straight through the opening where Pelyn had been standing and blasted through the open back of the gatehouse to splash against the main street. A second burst against the edge of the gatehouse wall, which held but the fire sprayed inside. She heard shrieks and saw elves slapping at themselves and diving off the platform, desperate to escape the flames that ate at their clothes and flesh.

Jio clung to her, all pretence at being TaiGethen gone. They watched fire orbs falling on their city. Harine the baker’s house blew apart under a direct hit. An orb scorched across the rooftops of five houses in a tight knot in the Ixii ghetto, setting all to flame. A third dropped onto the Second Courthouse’s balcony, splintering it and rolling inside, where the flames blew shutters open and scattered papers into the air to burn to ash in a heartbeat.

There was a moment’s pause. Jio tried to stand but Nerille clung to him.

‘Wait. There’s more.’

The air chilled and the sky above them filled with blocks of ice the size of barrows. Spinning fast and freezing the air around them, they flew high and deep into the city, their momentum carrying them far further than any orb could travel.

‘Tual’s balls,’ breathed Jio. ‘Clear! Get clear!’

His shouts were useless. The ice began to fall right in the heart of the city. It smashed the spire from the temple of Ix. The temple of Yniss’ roof collapsed under a trio of direct hits. Tens, hundreds of the ice boulders crashed down among thousands of Katurans who had thought they were far enough from the walls to be safe. One even landed on the steps of the makeshift stores. Nerille gasped. The quartermaster would have been standing there. He must have seen it coming all the way. She prayed he had found shelter in time.

The barrage lessened. Shouts for stretchers and fire teams echoed about the empty streets. Elves broke from their hiding places. The orbs had done terrible damage. Fire now leapt from house to house, business to business, the magical flames travelling with the speed of a jao deer.

Jio stood and Nerille stood with him. They looked down. Steel plate hung from broken fastenings. Stone was scattered about the base of the walls. The gatehouse was empty and on fire inside. There was no sign of Pelyn or the elves who had stood with her.

‘Casting!’

They dropped from sight again. Jio was shivering, clutching at his pendant.

‘How long can they keep this up?’

‘Not long enough,’ said Nerille. ‘Have courage, Jio. The TaiGethen are with us. They fear nothing and each of them is worth a hundred humans. I have to get back to the stores and see what I can do.’

‘No,’ said Jio. ‘You saw the strike on the steps. You could be killed.’

‘I’m safer on the walls, am I?’ Nerille smiled and kissed Jio’s cheek. ‘Worry about yourself. Don’t take any chances.’

Nerille made for the nearest ladder and climbed down into the city. Overhead, the castings came in again. Fire and ice rained down on the city. She pressed herself against the walls, which suffered no fresh impacts. Mages clustered up in the sky, spotting fresh targets and directing the barrage. She cursed them and prayed to Gyal for rain and mist to give them some respite. But the day was hot and the clouds distant. Even Gyal was in hiding.

Nerille looked to her right. A body lay at the base of the gatehouse. It was moving, the cloak smouldering but not aflame. It was Pelyn, it had to be. Nerille hurried along the street, staying close to the wall. An orb seared the air overhead and plunged into a potter’s workshop, blowing timbers and splinters in all directions when it hit.

Nerille felt a splinter cut her cheek. She turned her head away and crouched, trying to protect herself while she moved. Pelyn pushed herself to her knees and used the gates to pull herself to her feet. Nerille reached her and offered a steadying hand. The elf’s face was black with ash and red with burns, but the fire in her eyes was brighter than any fire orb.

‘Good, you survived the first wave,’ said Pelyn.

‘You too. The centre of the city has been hit. They need help.’

Pelyn nodded. ‘Let’s go. Stay to the walls, use the cover. This bombardment isn’t going to stop any time soon.’

The gatehouse blazed above them. Fire teams were speeding from cover, trying to douse the magical flames and risking death as they did. More spells soared overhead, spreading their destruction across Katura. Nerille and Pelyn headed inwards, where the city meant as a sanctuary had been turned to ash and ice.