Elfsorrow - By James Barclay Page 0,22

upper canopy to puddle on the ground before soaking away. Rebraal walked across the rain-slick apron with the mage, Erin’heth. It was the night following his time of contemplation in the cell of Shorth and preparations were now complete.

They couldn’t afford to worry about the strangers themselves, who had to be approaching by now. All that really taxed Rebraal was whether their defence would delay the strangers long enough for Mercuun to return. An elf of his ability could make a great deal of difference.

‘We can’t rely on him, Rebraal,’ said Erin’heth. ‘Your plan is sound. We can only do what we can do. If Mercuun arrives, it’s a bonus.’

Rebraal tried to smile but couldn’t help but be irritated that it was Meru that had left them. But then, who else but himself commanded the elves’ respect? He’d really had no choice.

‘Talk me through the grid,’ he said to concentrate his mind.

‘We’ve laid as many wards as we could in the time,’ said Erin. ‘We have to be fresh for the fight and Sheth is already sleeping. There’s no linkage but we’ve positioned the strike zones to herd them to the central position you want. Then it’s up to you and the archers because if they move to leave the apron, the outer ring isn’t going to hold them for ever even though they’re FlameWalls.’

‘And the temple doors?’

‘It’ll be carnage. Sheth spent a lot of energy on that ward. It’s big. If we should die in the fight, don’t touch it until you get a replacement mage.’

‘Didn’t you tune elves out of the triggers?’ Rebraal frowned.

‘In the apron wards yes, but we can’t risk a smart stranger circumventing the ward by forcing an elf to open the temple doors, so anything bigger than a panther will trigger it.’

Rebraal nodded, stopped and turned a slow circle on the slippery stone apron. He could see the archer positions, he knew the ward trigger points. They’d done all they could. Yniss would see them safe or let them die for a greater purpose. He had to believe that, though it sat harsh in his mind.

The Al-Arynaar shouldn’t rely on any God. They were placed here by Yniss to succeed.

‘Come on. You need to get your head down,’ he said, ushering Erin away to the hammocks they’d slung under the archer positions. ‘I need to relieve Rourke on the path.’

But the strangers didn’t delay long enough. Rebraal ran into Rourke, who was chasing back up the path, slightly out of breath and very scared. They were coming slowly, travelling by lantern light in the relative cool of night-time. Their pace would bring them to the temple apron an hour before dawn and well before the elves could expect Mercuun. The nine would take on, according to Rourke’s count as he had watched them pass below him from the sanctuary of a palm tree, one hundred and thirty-two. Mainly warriors but with ten who were obviously mages.

Tension replaced quiet calm as the reality of the attack overtook the hope that somehow the strangers would be deflected, or that perhaps they were not here to find the temple at all. All the Al-Arynaar had had these thoughts but they seemed foolish now. There was nothing else of interest here for hundreds of square miles and Rebraal doubted they had come to map the mangrove swamps, the volcanic region to the south or the course of the three huge, sluggish rivers that wound their way through the vast rainforest from the northern coastal ports to the southern deltas where desert gave way to lush vegetation again after a thousand miles.

But why had the TaiGethen not found them and dealt with them? And why had the ClawBound not warned him days before?

The leader of the Al-Arynaar visited the platforms for the last time, reminding the archers to pick their targets and not to begin until the wards had caused maximum confusion. And when their stocks of arrows were exhausted, they were to wait for the signal, the threat call of the grey monkey, before moving to attack from the rear with swords, hoping to force whoever remained into the doors of the temple. To the mages, he had given the task of occupying their enemy counterparts, using spells that demanded magical shielding.

Everything else was in the lap of Yniss.

And so they waited and listened, pairs of elves in three of the four platforms that overlooked the apron, and Rebraal himself with the fourth pair, Sheth’erei and Skiriin. They

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