thirty across. At least forty archers stood behind them and a third formation was made up of dozens of mages. A group of them had already cast what were presumably shields and the rest were preparing a barrage.
‘We’ve got to time this just right,’ he whispered, though no one on the ground could hope to hear them, such was the approaching din. ‘Ystormun is still waiting for his moment, and we need to keep the castings and the arrows off the crowd. We’ve got friends down there, remember.’
Auum watched the freed elves approach. Fires were burning all over the city though not one of the elves carried a torch towards the piazza; only the human constructions were being destroyed. The elves were running, the old and sick among them too, all rushing up the Path of Yniss with more and more joining from the side streets.
Some held the limbs and heads of men aloft, taunting the defenders of the piazza, who were shifting nervously now. The baying howls of the elves were drawn from their ancient bestial side, and the violence they would inflict would be truly ferocious.
They advanced quickly, with no time for fear and with their desire for vengeance driving them on. Fifty yards, forty…
An order flashed around the piazza. Castings were readied, arrows held in drawn bows.
‘For the enslaved,’ said Auum.
The TaiGethen leapt from the roof of the temple of Orra. The noise dimmed for Auum. He streaked towards the mages, feeling his feet barely kissing the piazza stones. He threw a jaqrui and saw it chop into a mage’s side. The man looked round, gaping at what he saw and opening his mouth to shout a warning.
Auum saw faces turn and mouths open to curse. He drew his blades, sprinted three more paces and jumped. Auum soared over the first group, his body horizontal and his arms spread like wings. He gathered his legs beneath him and landed in among them hacking left and right, his blades slicing into flesh and skewering organs, grinding against bone.
Castings arced away towards the onrushing mob, but they were few and would not be repeated. Auum kicked a mage in the face and followed with an uppercut that chopped right through his chin and tore off his nose. He heard the thud of arrows and pushed through the dwindling number of mages to see TaiGethen ducking and rolling into the attack.
And the mob… the mob burst over the terrified soldiers in a seething wave of vengeance. The repressed fury of a hundred and fifty years of slavery, cruelty, evil and humiliation was visited on the humans tenfold. Auum saw hands rip at faces and teeth tear into necks and shoulders.
A hundred slaves grabbed at every human and each was torn to pieces, engulfed in hatred and sent to Shorth for eternal damnation. With every rent limb raised above a head there came a howl of triumph. For every head ripped from its shoulders by a dozen clawing, grasping hands there was recompense for the torture, the executions and misery untold.
Auum had to turn away. He faced the temple of Shorth and there he was; standing alone on the roof above the main doors.
‘ Cascarg,’ muttered Auum, then shouted, ‘Cover! Break, break!’
The TaiGethen scattered towards the temples, but for the mob of freed slaves there was nowhere to go.
‘Get back to your pens!’ roared Ystormun. His voice was unnaturally loud and echoed from the temple walls. It stilled the mob in an instant. ‘I am the ruler here.’
Ystormun raised his hands and forks of black light sped out, seeking souls. Auum ducked into the doorway of Orra. Black fingers ripped at the timbers and felt along the cracks. A network of black lines chased over the piazza and buried themselves in elven bodies.
Those so recently freed screamed as their flesh scorched and their skin was flayed from their faces and hands. The stench of burning meat filled the piazza. Ystormun laughed and the lightning was shut off.
‘Go back to your pens. There is no victory for you here. No elf can defeat me.’
‘No,’ said an equally voice loud. ‘But we can.’
Other figures appeared across the roof. Ystormun’s head swept round, his skeletal face thick with anger and his robes swirling about his bones.
‘ You,’ he spat.
Ystormun raised his arms and the black lightning speared out again. Stein and his mages were ready. Their casting flared and bucked beneath the force of Ystormun’s magic but it held. They steadied under his barrage and began to move forward, driving Ystormun’s black light back towards him. Ystormun tried to push back but they were too strong for him, just. They held him, they had him.
‘It is over, Ystormun,’ said Stein, his voice echoing out over the total silence of the piazza. ‘Your rule is over.’
‘You cannot kill me,’ sneered Ystormun. ‘If you were three times your number you would not have half the power you need.’
‘No, but we can diminish you.’
‘And I will return, with the one thought of feeding your soul to the demons.’
‘So be it,’ said Stein. ‘Begin.’
His mages ran to encircle Ystormun, whose black light was losing its force. He dismissed it and put his hands together. Auum saw a ball of deepest blue growing within them.
‘Pressure!’ called Stein.
His mages spread their arms and Ystormun screamed. The ball in his hands guttered once and blinked out.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You will not do this.’
Auum could see him staring hard at one of the mages.
‘No!’ shouted Stein. ‘Do not catch his eye. Look away!’
Too late. The mage’s eyes began to smoulder. Fire engulfed his head, black and roaring. He clasped at his face and it crumbled beneath his fingers. He fell.
‘One,’ intoned Ystormun.
‘Harder!’ cried Stein.
Ystormun screamed again. He thought to stare another down, but his head was forced back and his eyes could only glare up to the clouds gathering in the heavens for a downpour that would cleanse Calaius of the stink of man. Ystormun struggled within his invisible prison as the walls pushed against him. His arms were forced down to his sides. Auum heard bones snap as he resisted, and Ystormun gave an agonised shriek.
Stein called for another effort. The twenty-four mages pushed again and Ystormun wailed. His body collapsed, his ribs folding on his heart and his brain exploding from the top of his skull as it was crushed. Robes and blood and bone hung in the air for a moment before Stein dismissed the spell and Ystormun’s remains dropped to the roof.
For a moment there was silence, and Auum thought he heard a shriek echoing away into the night sky.
Then the crowd found its voice again. The explosion of sound was like the falling of a mountain or the breaking of the ocean over the whole of the land. Every temple shook with it and the ground rippled with it. It went on and on, passing through the massive gathering until every elf knew that Ystormun was gone.
Auum put his head in his hands and wept as the sound rolled around him. He felt hands dragging him upright and Ulysan giving him his trademark bear hug.
‘It is over!’ he was shouting. ‘It’s over!’
The mob began to move. People ran for their temples to pray or broke off into the night, looking for food, drink and humans to kill. A large number had their eyes on Shorth, the temple that had become the symbol of their oppression. They surged forward.
‘Block the doors!’ ordered Auum, already racing across the piazza. ‘Keep them back.’
The TaiGethen flowed after him and Auum ran inside.
‘Close the doors. Hold the line outside and talk sense to them. Those mages must be allowed to leave unharmed.’
Auum sprinted through the temple, hearing the doors clang shut behind him, muting the sound of the mob. He raced up the stairs and to the ladders up to the roof. Stein and his mages were waiting there. So was Takaar.
