Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen (30 page)

Allyne joined him. Borrune had turned back to face the line they had brushed past. Grafyrre drew his swords. He crossed the few paces and hammered his right-hand blade into the injured man’s skull, knocking him down. Using the momentum of the strike, Grafyrre spun on his right foot and lashed his left into another’s chest.

Grafyrre’s move brought him round to face more of the enemy. He dragged his right blade across the neck of a third man and chopped the left past a fourth’s defence and into his side, feeling the sharp edge bite through to the spine. He glanced left. Allyne was airborne. He turned a forward roll and landed in the midst of a group of mages.

The shield above them pulsed a deep blue once, twice, three times. Allyne began the slaughter. Grafyrre called Borrune to join them. Grafyrre jabbed his elbow into the throat of the last soldier in his way and ran into the gap. At the same moment an order ran up and down the human column. Everywhere, the humans closed their eyes and threw their arms across their faces.

‘Tai! Guard your eyes!’

Grafyrre dropped his blades and jammed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Above the rumble that assaulted their ears and fed through the ground, Jeral heard his messengers relaying his orders down and up the army column.

‘Hold,’ he ordered again. ‘Stand.’

Mages prepared. He’d tried to ensure that every single one of them understood the importance of casting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He’d given spells numbers and divided the mages into colour groups. Today he would see if there was any discipline left in the army. If there wasn’t, the elves would win right here.

‘Red. One!’ yelled Jeral.
Shields
.

Hynd’s voice echoed his own. Others took up the call. Mages prepared, crouched and cast, and Jeral felt the multiple spells flip into place.

‘Your boys had better not let me down,’ said Jeral.

‘Trust is a wonderful thing,’ replied Hynd.

The undergrowth and lower branches of trees on both sides of the valley began to bounce and vibrate. The roar of tumbling wood grew steadily. The shattering sound of impacts and breaking timbers ricocheted over their heads. Jeral felt the mood of those around him and couldn’t help but sympathise. Fear.

‘Whatever comes at us,’ he shouted. ‘We
can
stand against it.’

Jeral could see shapes among the trees. Dark and massive ones, moving downslope at terrifying speed. Twigs, dirt and small stones rattled over the shield cover. The last of the undergrowth was pushed aside. A single tree trunk spinning end over end carried clear over his head and then the forest itself seemed to rush onto the valley floor and strike them.

‘Brace!’ yelled Jeral, but his voice was lost in the extraordinary din.

Dozens of felled trees, their trunks smoothed of all branches, slammed into the magical shield. Jeral stopped breathing, able only to stare. His hands came to his face and all his words about trust and strength were made flesh. Helpless and terrified, he winced as tree after tree slammed into the shield. Blue light flared each time.

Jeral felt as if he was watching the scene elsewhere. The trees made no sound when they struck the shield, only when they clashed together following the impact. Logs spun past overhead, bounced back down to crash into logs still rolling down the slopes and mostly clattered into one another. It was a wall of wood seeking to taste his blood and crush his bones.

Mages grunted with exertion. Soldiers willed them to stand firm. Jeral began to hear the screams when the tumult declined. Around him, soldiers and mages breathed out, relaxing.

‘Focus,’ he roared. ‘Blue! Three!’

And a few moments later.

‘Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!’

A blinding white light flooded the valley.

As fast as it had come, the light was gone. Grafyrre had been able to see it through the flesh and bone of his hands. He heard screaming from all around, and among those of dying men crushed under timber were those of elves, caught by a spell that had blinded them.

Grafyrre moved his hands, his eyes adjusting immediately. He dropped to a crouch to grab his blades, re-sheathing one and taking out a jaqrui. All around him, soldiers and mages were readying themselves. Allyne was already fighting. Grafyrre spun around, surprised at the speed of the human fightback. Borrune was down, lying against a pile of logs, his hands on his face. There were men about him. Borrune had not been fast enough and had taken the full force of the spell. Others were striking back.

‘Allyne! To Borrune fast.’

Borrune had been seen. Grafyrre hurdled dead bodies and logs to get to him only a few paces away.

‘Borrune! Guard above!’ he yelled.

Grafyrre threw the jaqrui. The blade flashed over Borrune while the TaiGethen struggled to orient himself, plainly still blinded. It struck a soldier squarely, wedging in his armour and punching the air from his body. Others came on and Allyne breezed past them. He took two paces and leapt, feet first, spear-kicking a soldier poised to strike down.

Borrune was trying to scramble away, but he had no sense of direction in the din of the fight.

‘To me!’ Grafyrre shouted.

He hurled another jaqrui, this time seeing it harmlessly deflected high. Four men had seen the vulnerable elf and were moving in for the kill. Allyne was back on his feet and stood above Borrune, a blade in his hands which he swiped out waist-high, trying to keep the enemy back.

Grafyrre came in on his left. A huge soldier dived from the pack onto Allyne, bearing him away, and Grafyrre surged in. His blade cracked into the thigh of one enemy, sending him sprawling. Another turned to face him. The last stood by Borrune, who was on his feet at last but still saw nothing.

‘Borrune, away!’

Grafyrre fenced away the blade thrust at him and jabbed in a riposte, putting his enemy down for the moment. Beyond him, Allyne killed the big human and heaved the body aside. He dived for Borrune, meaning to knock him aside from an attack, but was too slow. The soldier rammed his blade into Borrune’s unprotected chest and blood erupted from the wound that pierced his heart.

‘Coward!’

Grafyrre hurled himself at the soldier, who had no time to pull his sword from Borrune’s body. Grafyrre’s blade opened up his face on the down strike and sliced his neck on the return. The man fell.

Allyne was with Borrune; the TaiGethen was dead. Grafyrre howled his fury. A light pulsed across the remaining magical shield, green this time. Grafyrre looked out to the sides of the valley and belatedly saw the elves strewn across them, stumbling and confused, blindly trying to escape.

‘Allyne! New casting. We have to get the Apposans away. Go, go!’

Grafyrre muttered a prayer for Borrune while he ran into the midst of a group of Apposans clinging to one another. Allyne was by him, still with an eye on the enemy, who had not yet moved to attack.

‘Get upslope,’ called Grafyrre. ‘Crawl if you must, but go. Get to the high ground.’

The Apposans began to respond. Some were regaining their sight quicker than others and helped the worst affected along. They began to move back into the treeline, but they wouldn’t be fast enough.

‘Graf! Casting now.’

Grafyrre’s heart missed a beat. He looked down the valley side to the floor less than twenty paces away.

‘Get to cover!’

The air chilled. A wind began to howl. Grafyrre saw grass, leaf litter and undergrowth blacken across a wide front that fled upslope.

‘Oh no. Up, Allyne, up!’

Grafyrre leapt straight up. His hands grasped the branches of a tree and he swung his legs, linking them over a higher branch. He let go with his hands and pivoted his body, arching his back and grasping the branch about which his legs were locked. The gale of ice howled below him. Grafyrre closed his eyes but there was no stopping his ears from hearing the screams.

Chapter 23

Auum and his cell flowed down the valley side with the human reaction to the carnage already filtering up into the canopy. They had left the Apposans behind and Auum was glad of it. He wanted them to come upon an enemy already on the brink of rout.

Elyss was running to his left. Auum knew he shouldn’t check her progress but he couldn’t help himself. Her feet seemed as sure as ever, her body as fluid and balanced. Auum checked her path, seeing roots, low branches and trailing vines. He opened his mouth to warn her and ducked reflexively. He felt the brush of leaves by his right ear followed by Ulysan’s voice.

‘The TaiGethen who ignores his own path will fall to the merest risk.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘You did.’

Auum knew he was right. He refocused, tuning his eyes to his path and his ears to the situation beyond the cover of the trees and undergrowth. They were forty yards from the base of the Scar. Then he heard many human voices repeating the same words and had the time to wonder why that worried him so much.

He glanced across to Ulysan to check the big TaiGethen’s reaction and in the same instant a blistering, blinding white light filled the valley. Auum clapped his hands to his eyes and slid, feet first, on to his front, aiming to protect his head. Elyss cried out, Ulysan was silent and behind him the cries and calls for help told of the Apposans descending into panic. The only voice he could hear was that of Boltha, shouting for calm and for them to stop.

Auum took his hands from his face and opened his eyes wide. The afterglow of the spell haunted his vision. The outlines of trees, no more than pale shadows, swam against whiteness fading to a bright yellow and then to a burning orange. He blinked rapidly, trying to force his vision back to something approximating true sight. Down on the valley floor, the effect must have been ten times worse.

He could hear Ulysan moving towards him and the clarity of the sound alerted him to the silence within the Scar in the wake of the light.

‘We’re blind,’ Ulysan whispered. ‘We’re all blinded.’

The silence was fleeting. Human voices filtered up the valley sides. Again it was a few words, repeated along the column. Two sets of words, one following the other. Auum shivered; more spells.

Auum’s vision was returning but it was poor, the way he assumed a human’s was. He couldn’t penetrate the shadows and the edge of every leaf seemed thick and furred. He pushed himself to his feet, his unease growing. The air inside the Scar stilled again, and then it roared. Auum knew that sound.

‘Oh no.’

He began to run, fending off the shadows of branches as best he could and holding an arm in front of him to ward off the trunks of trees still indistinct against the glamour that tricked his eyes. He mimicked the alarm call of the howler monkey, an urgent echoing hoot designed to penetrate the densest of forest growth.

Ulysan tried to grab his shoulder to slow him but he threw it off, continuing his half-blind charge towards the enemy. His mind played out the massacre the gales of ice would cause. Helpless elves would be frozen in moments. The forest would be blackened and ruined, countless creatures slaughtered in hives, nests and burrows. The ambush would be left fractured, leaderless and confused. Any who survived the blasts would be prey to the swords of man.

‘Auum, slow dow—’

Ulysan gasped, his shoulder thumping into a tree. His momentum spun him into Auum and the two elves tumbled to the ground. Ulysan finished atop Auum and held out his hands for calm.

‘You can’t kill what you can’t see,’ said Ulysan, rolling away and holding out a hand for Auum to grab. Both stood. ‘You have to trust your cell leaders. They’ll do the right thing. Merrat, Grafyrre, Faleen . . . they are great TaiGethen. Take a breath.’

Elyss trotted over to them, squinting as she came. Auum blinked. His vision was clearing faster now but the detail of the forest was still denied him.

‘All those who followed the log runs will be too close to the enemy,’ he said. ‘Somehow we have to force them on to the defensive.’

The roar of the ice spells had died away. Auum couldn’t hear fighting from anywhere along the column. The elves had been silenced. Orders flashed up and down the enemy army. The unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn and readied echoed across the Scar.

‘We’re out of time,’ said Auum. ‘Call the retreat to the outer rally points. We’ve got to get the survivors to safety.’

Jeral watched the spells surge away. They blistered foliage, forged spectacular ice sculptures where they splashed against the boles of trees and tore through the undergrowth, seeking out the Sharps where they lay helpless and blind. This was the critical blow and it had to be driven home.

‘Swords! Two!’ he bellowed. He waited for the call to return along the column. ‘Away. Chase them down.’

Jeral watched his warriors moving away up the slopes of the valley to either side. In close groups of five, they hacked away standing foliage, clearing their path. Elves broke from cover, TaiGethen by their speed and camouflage paint. Jeral smiled. They weren’t fighting, they were running. Animal calls were bouncing around the forest. There was movement everywhere, and all of it was heading away from the valley floor. The battle was won.