Free Elves: Once Walked With Gods by James Barclay Page A

watching for the telltale lattice of cracks. Same as for cracking a dried mudslide. He hoped the other part worked as well.
    Serrin saw what he was doing. Auum switched his grip, pointed the blade tips up. Serrin grabbed at his waist and hauled him to the bottom of the pool, allowing him to crouch and stare up at the tiny weakness he had made. Auum nodded at Serrin.
    The priest let him go.
    Auum powered up. His feet were planted, his thighs, honed from a life running in the forests of Hausolis and Calaius, did not fail him. He focused on the lattice of cracks, and hammered his blade tips into them, praying to Yniss that he had done enough. Praying his blades did not shatter.
    He had the blades right in front of his face, his elbows tight into his chest to soak up the impact. At the last, he tucked his head in and trusted Yniss to guide his hands. Auum felt the blades strike the underside of the ice. He heard cracking and popping. He felt the frozen layer give.
    Auum exploded through the shattering remains of the ice, roaring in a fresh breath, exulting in the warmth that had already invaded the temple to cover the cold the mages had used to try and kill him. He brought his arms to his sides, fury making him shudder. The men were just gathering at the side of the pool. Mages, whatever the hell they were, admiring their work. Haleth too, tracking his movements, his mouth hanging open.
    Someone was shouting a warning. Auum landed on the lip of the pool, already moving forward. Around him, the mages were backing off, muttering and gesturing again. Auum thrashed his blades around left to right, the leading edge of the right blade cutting through the face of one mage, that of the left blade thumping into the arm of another.
    Auum balanced instantly on his right leg and kicked out high with his left, the flat of his foot slamming into a third mage’s nose. He drew the leg back in, still balanced on his left, and roundhoused the last of them, the top of his foot slapping into the mage’s ear, sending him clattering to the floor.
    ‘Shorth take you to eternal torment,’ he said.
    His path was clear to Haleth. The man had a blade drawn. He crabbed sideways, looking for an angle. Auum ran forward, dropped and slid across the slick stone floor. Haleth tried to chop down with his sword. Auum’s feet crashed into the man’s knees. His own blades crossed above him, catching Haleth’s blow.
    Haleth fell sideways. Auum pivoted on his right knee and rose smoothly to his feet. Haleth scrabbled back, trying desperately to get his sword in front of him and his feet beneath him. Auum stood over him.
    ‘Pathetic,’ he said. ‘Reprieve over.’
    Auum batted Haleth’s blade aside with one blade and punctured his heart with the other. He withdrew the blade and turned back to the mages. All four were still alive. Auum strode forwards and drove his right blade into the chest of a screaming mage already pouring blood from a deep gash in his face that had ripped his lower lip down to his chin, taken an eye and cut his nose to hang across one cheek. Stopping his heart was a blessing he did not deserve. His blood defiled the stone of Yniss’s temple.
    To his left, the one with the smashed nose was back on his feet and running towards the doors. Not a backward glance at his injured comrades. Hardly a surprise. Auum dropped the blade from his left hand, pulled a jaqrui throwing crescent from his belt pouch, cocked his arm and threw in one smooth motion.
    The cruel blade whispered away and buried itself in the back of the mage’s neck. Auum turned. Serrin was hauling himself out of the pool, nodding that he was fine. Auum picked up his blade. The mage he had roundhoused was barely conscious. Auum ensured the next time he opened his eyes it would be in the presence of Shorth. The last survivor stared at his ruined arm, too shocked by pain to be afraid.
    Auum stalked over to him. He saw his blade had half-severed the arm and cut deep into the