Down on the harbour apron Al-Arynaar warriors were under serious pressure trying to keep the crowds from storming the dockside. So far they had held the approaches while administrators searched for those holding transit papers. There had been scuffles and little else to this point but that would not continue.

‘How long before we deploy mages?’

Auum turned to Rebraal. Ilkar’s brother looked in little better shape than his long-dead sibling would have had he been dragged from the grave to stand here.

‘How long since you’ve slept or eaten?’

‘Long enough. But once we’re away, I have plenty of time to rest, do I not?’ Rebraal sighed. ‘Do you feel guilty? Look at all those we are consigning to their deaths.’

‘We have to focus on who we can save, not who we cannot,’ said Auum, the nausea clogging his throat. ‘One day we can weep. But it is not today.’

A surge of noise to their left signified the first concerted attempt to break through the Al-Arynaar. Forty warriors with mages behind held the line, just.

‘We need to pre-empt,’ said Rebraal.

‘Agreed,’ said Auum. ‘But go carefully. Tint the walls. These people have enough pain to come. Best we do not add to it ourselves.’

Rebraal signalled the warning flag to be hoisted. Auum watched the black-cross-on-yellow standard climb the flagpole.

‘It’s going to get ugly,’ said Rebraal.

‘I know. Time we made ourselves known down there.’

Auum paused to watch the reaction. A short time after the flag was unfurled defensive castings were deployed on all four approaches to the harbour. Essentially walls of mana, the spells raised swirling yellow barriers in front of the increasingly desperate crowds, leaving small gaps to admit those with papers.

The howls intensified; simmering anger turned to spitting fury. Missiles were hurled at the walls, where they stuck before sliding harmlessly to the ground. Directly opposite the tower, the crowd had pulled back, leaving a couple of paces gap before the wall.

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.