‘I’m old, Boltha,’ he said once he’d stoppered the jug and fished in his pack for the bread and meat. ‘But I’ve only just begun feeling it. I was a warrior of the Al-Arynaar for over three hundred years and I am as proud of that as I am of being Gyalan.
‘I’ve seen the very best of the elven spirit and believed that we were genuinely entering a golden age of harmony and progress. But the last years have been relentless decline and conflict and I find I cannot accept that as the epitaph of my life in service.’
‘Why do you think I took my leave? Katura is a cancer.’
‘Yes!’ said Methian, and he felt the spirit coursing round his blood energising him. ‘And it must be excised.’
‘So talk to your erstwhile leader, if she ever returns to lucidity. How many Al-Arynaar still wear the cloak?’
‘Who knows? We probably have fewer warriors than the TaiGethen for the first time in elven history. Not even enough to police a city of twenty thousand.’
‘And growing fewer every day…’ said Boltha.
‘It has to stop, and though there is desire in the city to see it cleaned up, there is no strength.’
Boltha held up his hands. ‘I know where this is going.’
‘You are strong,’ said Methian, leaning forward and offering him dried mango which Boltha took and ate. ‘Your thread is pure. You are the thread of the axe. Others fear you, even the Tuali. Come back. Help me cleanse the city. Help me return Katura to purity. To harmony.’
‘The only way to do that is to burn the place to the ground.’
Methian shrugged. ‘If that’s what it takes.’
‘Why should I risk my people for those who cared so little for us?’
‘Because if you do not it will render everything we did when Ysundeneth fell a waste. It will render your faith a sham. And I know you, Boltha. You believe in the harmony. Help me and we can start again, to make Katura great before we die.’ Methian smiled as rain began to fall. ‘And Gyal knows neither of us has terribly long left.’
A primeval, guttural sound grew from the north. It echoed among the trees and fed up the valleys. Even beyond Katura, panthers took up the cry. Methian shuddered.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s the ClawBound. They’re calling the TaiGethen to muster.’
‘Are you sure?’
Boltha nodded and pushed himself to his feet. ‘I need to get back to Haliath.’
‘I understand,’ said Methian. ‘Think on what I’ve said. Help me. Help us all.’
The calls faded away.
‘Do you have a plan for this rebellion of yours, or whatever you call it?’
‘I know where we have to strike, if that’s what you mean.’
‘And do your enemies know you’re plotting against them?’
Methian chuckled. ‘I’m an old Gyalan. I don’t even carry a weapon any more. No one suspects me of anything barring being a grumpy old loudmouth.’
‘Well we can all agree on that.’ Boltha took Methian’s shoulders. ‘These are dangerous people you’re facing. Don’t assume you are not seen as a threat. Will the Al-Arynaar back you?’
‘I have to hope so.’
‘Good enough. Then come back with me — you’ll be safe with the Apposans until it’s time to strike.’
‘You’re with me?’
‘I can hardly let some arthritic old Gyalan get all the glory, now can I? Anyway, I don’t think I have much option.’
‘Why?’
Boltha gestured north.
‘I can only think of one reason for the ClawBound to call the TaiGethen to muster and that scares me. We need Katura to be strong, to be the sanctuary it was designed to be. If it isn’t, I fear for us. I fear we will not survive.’
Ystormun looked sick. Sicker. It was normally hard to tell, but today there was a greyness to his skin that left him looking closer to death than Sildaan had ever seen him; and she saw him every day. Such was her misfortune. Like Garan, she fervently wished for death each night when she was allowed to rest. And like Garan, Ystormun seemed to take perverse delight in keeping her alive.
Sildaan stood before the great wooden desk, awaiting questions from her human lord and master. She had resisted admitting that’s what he had become to her, but she could not escape it. She was an Ynissul who dreamed of a return to ultimate power over the elves, one who could reach out and touch it yet was an impossible distance from ever achieving it.
Punishment indeed, and Llyron should have been standing here to suffer with her, yet the former high priestess of Shorth would never do so. She had found her way to death and that had made Sildaan’s task all the harder.
So Sildaan took the brunt of his evil. She looked to her left and out into the Calaian night sky. The lantern light playing on the windows showed her a reflection of herself, and she shrank inwardly at the sight of her thinning hair, gaunt face, sunken eyes and bloodless lips. Her ears, so delicate, were bent at the tips like an elf a thousand years her elder. She still remembered the strength of her arms and the power in her heart and mind. Proud Ynissul, now laid so low. Such was the price of her god casting her aside. Sildaan could not contain the whimper that escaped her lips. She turned away from the window.
In front of her, Ystormun dragged in a shuddering breath. He was in pain. His hands shook and there was sweat on his brow. Veins pulsed at his temples. He opened his eyes. Sildaan gasped. They were white. No pupil whatsoever. Yet he could see her and the man who stood by her. He examined them while he weighed up his first words. Something moved beneath the milky whiteness and Sildaan thought she might be sick.
‘Times move ever faster,’ said Ystormun. ‘So there are things I must know.’
Ystormun’s voice was altered, discordant as if he was speaking with multiple tongues, all of which moved in fractionally different ways to form the same words.
‘What must you know, Lord Ystormun?’ asked the man, who was profoundly lucky to be alive and standing in his presence.
‘Ah. Jeral. Reprieved by the mercy of an animal, were you not? I would ask how is it that with the strength of mages and warriors you had under your command you were unable to defeat weaponless elves and their feline pets. But I am sure I would hear useless talk of speed and stealth and the forest shadows. Instead, I will ask you about the only point of interest in your entire report.’
Ystormun wafted a hand at a single roll of paper.
‘It is an honest report.’
‘Yes, detailing incompetence, slack management and ignorance of the first rule of handling Sharps in the field. Always keep a mage in the air. Now tell me, Jeral, your report mentions that the elves and their panthers worked in harmony. ‘‘Like they were of one mind’’ were your exact words. Explain.’
‘Thank you, lord, for the opportunity.’
‘It won’t necessarily save your life.’
Jeral’s words caught in his throat. He stammered and coughed.
‘The attack was fast and it was impossible to defend against because each elf worked with a panther and they needed no words to effect their plan. I saw their leader, I think he was their leader, look into the eyes of his animal once and, beyond that, they attacked our mages as one before turning their attention to the warriors.
‘They were just animals but they knew exactly who to take out first. You cannot train that into a beast. And I know we have spells that achieve much the same thing, but the elves have no magic like this. I was standing beside Nuin and he didn’t sense any magic being used. That was right before he had his throat ripped out by a panther while I was left wholly untouched.’
‘A shame,’ said Ystormun. ‘But something worthy of further investigation. Sildaan, you’re looking well. You bear your responsibilities with more grace every day.’
‘Only by accident,’ said Sildaan.
Ystormun began to chuckle, but it became a hacking cough and his expression hardened.
‘Do you recognise this skill in your people?’
&nb
sp; ‘There was no such link the last time I was in the rainforest.’
‘So Jeral is lying. I’m uncomfortable with liars.’
Jeral whimpered a desperate ‘No.’
‘I can’t say that with any certainty,’ said Sildaan quickly, feeling a bizarre kinship with Jeral. ‘But I can postulate.’
Ystormun picked up the roll of paper and shook it open.
‘Yes, please do. The ClawBound, Jeral called them. What are they?’
‘There have always been stories about elves forging closer and closer ties to Tual’s denizens. Elves whom no snake would bite, no insect sting, no predator hunt. It has long been held that the Silent Priests were actively seeking a true bond to every creature in the rainforest to greater understand the workings of Tual and, through him, of Yniss.
‘I have read Jeral’s report and there is no doubt that the elves he describes, though much changed, are Silent Priests. It is possible that they have spent their time working with panthers but I can give you no explanation how they might have forged a mental link with these beasts. I can only tell you that it is possible, because Yniss and Tual have the power to bestow such gifts.’
‘Your faith can explain anything it chooses, Sildaan, and you know I have little time for religion. The question is, would you reckon your life on it being possible?’
Sildaan did not have to think. ‘Yes.’
Ystormun nodded. ‘We thought as much. Very well. Jeral you are dismissed. Get some rest. You and your cohorts will have need of it.’
Jeral left the room with ungracious haste and Sildaan felt abandoned. Ystormun sank further into his chair, muttered and closed his eyes. He shook violently and words in a human language Sildaan had never heard before forced themselves from his lips. His entire body tensed and then relaxed. He opened his eyes and Sildaan saw they were his more usual dark colour, with bloodshot whites.
‘What are they doing, these ClawBound?’ he asked.
‘They are cleansing the forest,’ said Sildaan. ‘The Silent Priests always promised they would.’
‘So I have already been told. And they will not stop?’
Sildaan smiled. ‘No. Not until all humans within its boundaries are dead. You can consider the forest closed to you.’
‘Now that is a shame,’ said Ystormun. ‘Because at this time, this pivotal, crucial time, I cannot afford that.’
Sildaan quailed under his gaze, which was utterly bleak and murderous. ‘Please. Do not make the innocents suffer. This does not break any unspoken agreement you have with the TaiGethen. This is a calling of elves acting alone, I’m certain of it.’
‘You think me so stupid,’ said Ystormun. ‘Certainly stupid enough to slaughter my workforce in retaliation. I concede I was tempted. Eviscerating Sharps is always tempting, but not this time. This time even I have orders. We may not be ready but our hands have been forced by events in my country as well as the actions of your kin.
‘And so we shall take the rainforest and in doing so shall end the resistance — the existence, I should say — of the elven race. Do you want to watch the extinction of your race? I can offer you a prime seat.’
‘You cannot possibly believe you can defeat the TaiGethen in their own forest. Human blood will run in our rivers and you will never find our hidden city. Not even I know where it is.’
‘It’s called Katura and I am sure you know exactly where it is, Sildaan, but don’t worry, I won’t torture you in an attempt to find out. I don’t need to. I have someone who will lead us straight there.’
Sildaan had to steady herself against the side of the desk.
‘No elf would betray our people in such a way.’
‘No? Well, I suppose you are well placed to make such a judgement. And as it happens, you still retain your exalted position as betrayer-in-chief. This elf has no knowledge of the damage he is going to do his people. And the really pleasing thing is that he is one of your most fervent, most spectacularly faithful, people. He is possessed of talents not even he can fathom and is determined to use anything he can to the benefit of the elves.
‘Unfortunately he doesn’t realise that the focus of mana within his body is stronger than the scent of blood in the River Ix. He reeks of it, exudes it and can do nothing to hide it. And we, my dear Sildaan, could use it to follow him through the very bowels of the earth.
‘You really ought to come along and watch the show.’
Chapter 10
The rainforest is so utterly vast it is truly difficult for the mind to comprehend. Fly with mages, stand on the highest peak, sail the longest river, and you will achieve some small perspective. The way to truly understand is to walk for day upon unending day in a single direction and after the fiftieth, sixtieth or seventieth day know that you could be only halfway to the other side. Know that you are equally distant from its borders in any other direction. Know that the TaiGethen have trodden every inch of this land and have identified every place in which to kill their enemies. Know that there are an infinite number of such places.
Reminiscences of an Old Soldier, by Garan, sword master of Ysundeneth (retired)
Takaar had run to the eaves of the forest, there to curse his misfortune.
Misfortune? Remember a TaiGethen is never alone.
‘I am no longer TaiGethen and that blade would not enter his neck. Do not ask me why.’
I have no need. Your cowardice rears its head at the most spectacular moments and reduces your strength to that of a dung fly. Oh, the elves must hear of this latest betrayal.
‘You cannot goad me as you once did. And even then I was too strong for you. Did I step from that cliff edge? I did not. You lost this battle decade upon decade ago and still it hurts that you cannot control me.’
I have no desire to control you. Only to see you crawling on your belly like your beloved snakes with the eyes of every true elf upon you, knowing the truth about their erstwhile hero.
‘They already know the truth!’ Takaar’s voice set creatures scurrying deeper into the undergrowth. ‘And they have forgiven me, taken me to their hearts once more and allowed me to work to make them stronger, able to stand proud as men are driven from Calaius.’
Taken you to their hearts, have they? Is that why you run off to Garan the moment something goes wrong? Keener to hear the words of man than of elf when the world darkens?
‘Garan gives more than he takes and this time he has unlocked a secret and opened my eyes. I knew he would turn against Ystormun. I knew he would see man’s invasion for the sacrilege it is.’
‘What has Garan unlocked, exactly?’
Takaar spun as he rose, his twin swords whispering from their sheaths. He counted five, but more were circling him, unseen.
Yniss preserve you, how careless.
Takaar smiled and sheathed his blades.
‘I was expecting you.’
Auum’s expression was bleak. ‘Really? And you always welcome your friends with your blades, do you?’
‘Your approach was quiet, I’ll admit and I was-’
‘Engaged in another conversation. Quite vocally, considering his proximity.’
Takaar heard the whisper of laughter from among the TaiGethen, who were emerging into his small clearing in some numbers. Fifteen of them now.
Don’t let him goad you. He’s goading you, isn’t he?
‘No one is goading me.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Auum, walking closer.
‘I was not addressing you,’ said Takaar sharply.
‘Clearly,’ said Auum. ‘You and I need to talk. In private. Just the three of us.’
Takaar searched Auum’s face for the humour he was sure would be there, but for some reason it was absent. He felt a moment’s confusion.
Idiot. And I thought you’d be used to people insulting you, laughing behind your back, that sort of thing.
‘I do not like your tone,’ hissed Takaar.
Finally.
Auum walked closer. Takaar could smell the
camouflage paint. He turned his head slightly and couldn’t stop his hands wringing together.
‘I do not much care whether you like it or not,’ Auum replied. ‘I care that soon Ysundeneth will once again be full of the corpses of innocent elves and their blood will be on the hands of man.’
Takaar chuckled. ‘It’s good that I’m here, isn’t it?’
‘It is never good that you are anywhere near things that matter. Walk with me.’
Auum made a gesture towards his TaiGethen, who scattered into the new growth that had sprung up in the wake of the wholesale logging near Ysundeneth and the Ultan bridge. Only Auum’s cell remained, and he indicated they stay in place before stalking off into the deeper undergrowth to the south.
Do you think he’ll come back if you just stand here?
‘Why would I do that? I am the bearer of all that is important. He needs me.’
Pathetic. You’re like some snivelling servant, so anxious to please your master. Even for you, this is a new low.
Takaar followed Auum. ‘The elves must survive, all else is secondary.’
You mean all else is secondary to justifying your existence to an elf who once idolised you. At least test him. Prove yourself his better in the one thing he holds most dear. That is the minimum if you are to retain any self-worth.
‘I have no need of such proof.’
No? Do you even remember being one of them?
‘Show yourself and I’ll prove I could still be one.’
I’d laugh, but you killed our sense of humour about a hundred and sixty years ago.
‘Why are you plaguing me?’
Because you always seek me out when you need answers.
‘Enough.’
Takaar moved quickly, following Auum’s footsteps. Thirty paces into the thick of the undergrowth, where the lower level of the canopy swooped towards the ground, Auum had stopped and was facing him. There was a look of disappointment mixed with contempt on his face. He knew what was in Takaar’s mind.
‘Don’t do this,’ said Auum. ‘Do not even attempt it. You know, I always found it admirable that even in your madness and solitude, you still practised the art to its highest degree. When I found you, your skills were unparalleled. But now? You do not train and your mind is fogged with thoughts of magic. You are no longer quick enough to test me.’
Rise of the TaiGethen e-2 Page 9
