Rise of the TaiGethen e-2

by James Barclay

  That Malaar’s jaqruis were recognisable was a surprise in itself but it hardly mattered. Both he and Wirann were gone; wiped from the rainforest as if they had never existed. It made awful sense of all the screams. How could even a soul hope to survive such a conflagration?

  Auum reached down with his left hand and half-pulled Elyss to her feet. The surviving TaiGethen were gathered, Illast and his cell among them, bruised but unbroken.

  ‘TaiGethen,’ he said softly and every eye turned to him. ‘You can all feel through your boots what is coming. Every one of you is carrying an injury. And you are looking at an atrocity that eclipses all others. I know you wish to fight for the memory of those who have fallen but we do not have the strength, not right now.

  ‘We will head for Aryndeneth to rest and heal. If the humans are heading there, we must be ready. Go now. Acclan will bear Gyneev. Ulysan will remain with my cell and we shall grieve our fallen when we pray.

  ‘Tais, we move.’

  Bitter cold flushed through the forest at their backs. The last fires were extinguished. Ice fell from the trees. Boughs blackened by fire shattered and fell, shot through by the chill.

  ‘Run!’ yelled Auum.

  The TaiGethen fled the scene of slaughter. Auum pushed Ulysan away and let himself drop into an untidy heap on the ground

  ‘Go, Ulysan. See to Aryndeneth.’

  Ulysan looked past Auum at the onrushing frost. He nodded and ran. Auum turned onto his back and saw the cloud of ice carried on an unnatural gale of wind stampede about four feet over his head. He prayed his Tais were fast enough. The vibration in the ground told him that the enemy had slowed to move in behind their spells.

  The air was clearing of smoke now and a cold rain fell from the trees, any leaves which had survived the fire had been blackened by frost up into the mid-canopy. Beeth would be urging Gyal to bring fresh rain, but it would not save these ruined trees. Auum lay where he had fallen, waiting.

  From his position, feet first towards the enemy, he saw five warriors moving slowly into the cleared space, three mages in close attendance. No doubt there were many others but he dare not move his head. Not yet. The men came forward, swords held ready and bucklers still strapped firmly to forearms. Voices echoed in an arc in front of Auum and there was harsh laughter.

  Auum tensed, feeling the strained sinews and muscles in both shoulder and ankle. Mercifully nothing was broken, though his ankle and right leg were useless to him. Nonetheless he wondered how many he could take before they finished him. Two warriors were walking towards him. He could tell by their approach that they assumed him dead, but they were still wary.

  Auum’s eyes were closed to tiny slits and he let his body relax. One warrior kicked his right boot. Pain flooded Auum, too much to deny. He cried out and kicked hard with his left foot, feeling his toes connect with the warrior’s groin. Auum sat straight up as the man doubled over, grabbing his light mail shirt and pulling him down and left, and used the momentum to carry him to his knees. Fresh pain crashed through his lower body from his right ankle. Auum ignored it. He grabbed a blade with his right hand and chopped it into the warrior’s neck.

  Auum pushed the body aside and bounced up onto his left foot, forced to leave the right one trailing. His stance was awkward, leaving him feeling clumsy. He smashed an elbow into the face of the second warrior and threw a jaqrui at the nearest mage, seeing it deflected by a buckler thrust out instinctively and fly up into his target’s face.

  Auum hopped to the right, his left foot kicking down briefly but tellingly on the second warrior’s throat before he landed on solid ground. The remaining three rushed him. Behind them, two mages began to prepare castings and he could hear others racing in from the left and right. The attacking men slowed, seeing him crippled. They spaced out, intending to give him no chance.

  Auum focused on the central figure. Clean-shaven and fresh-faced, he was a young man of little experience if the way his grip shifted on his sword was any guide. Auum watched him come in, striding quickly, confident in his chances against an injured elf.

  Auum snatched a jaqrui from his belt and hurled it at neck height. The young man ducked. Auum flexed his left leg and jumped high, kicking out straight as he rose, catching the soldier on the top of his head and sending him sprawling backwards. The other two were running at him. He threw his blade at one, missing, and dragged out his other as he landed.

  Auum turned to his left. He had little time. In his peripheral vision the mages had completed their preparations and Auum asked Yniss to preserve his soul. Auum dived headlong, his sword thrust out ahead of him, hoping he might evade whatever spells were coming.

  His blade skewered the soldier in the gut. Auum’s body thumped into his as it fell and the two of them tumbled in a heap. The dying man landed on top of Auum’s injured leg. Auum screamed and tried to shove him off, scrabbling back and fighting a rising nausea. A mage appeared above him, his palm open to reveal blue fire growing within. The mage reached down towards Auum’s face.

  A keening sound split the noise of the skirmish and the mage jerked, blood bursting from his mouth and flooding down his neck. He fell to the side, plucking at the jaqrui lodged just beneath his ear. TaiGethen hurdled Auum’s body as men called out frantically. Auum saw Ulysan poleaxe a warrior with a massive punch to the chin and Elyss ram a blade under his ribs.

  A spell was cast. Brief flame shot out and Illast leapt, turned in the air above the flame and kissed back down to the ground, his blades already coming across his face in their killing strikes. Auum could hear swords clash further away. He heard more jaqrui sing through the air and a man howled briefly in agony. Running footsteps dwindled away into the forest and the last human voices faded away.

  The dying human was pulled from atop Auum and his neck broken. Ulysan reached down a hand and Auum took it gratefully.

  ‘This is becoming a habit,’ he said. ‘Faleen’s after the others.’

  ‘I thought I told you all to run,’ said Auum.

  Ulysan smiled and rubbed an ear theatrically. ‘Did you? Damned explosion must have left me half deaf because I’d never knowingly defy one of your orders.’

  ‘May Yniss keep your hearing muted, Ulysan,’ said Auum. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  The assault on Serrin’s sense of smell fed directly from his Claw and it was truly vile. He was travelling with eight pairs, tracking the human army and dreaming of their blood on his lips.

  But this stink had driven all other thought from his mind. The air was laden with a multitude of scents: burned wood, ash, seared flesh and boiling sap just a few among them. Dominant, though, were the twin odours of magic, which hung heavy on the ground caught in the leaf litter and undergrowth, and elven blood, a great deal of which had been spilled.

  Serrin walked into a blackened clearing and knew that much of the guilt rested with him. His Claw sampled the ground, finding a charred, fused crater smothered in the remnants of magic and the ashes of elves. Scattered across an area a quarter of a mile on a side, were the bodies of men. Some appeared to have thawed from frozen and all bore the wounds of jaqrui, elven blade or TaiGethen open-hand strike.

  Serrin paused, his hand on his Claw’s head. She had moved from the crater and was nosing at a bloodstain on the ground. She breathed it in deep and Serrin experienced a pain of loss he thought never to feel again.

  Auum.

  His Claw could not be sure if he had perished here and been borne away by his Tais, but he had certainly fought and bled here, and one set of tracks leading away spoke of an elf with serious injuries. Serrin stared at the ground, looking for signs that Auum had moved away unaided, but the tracks were confused. Ten sets of prints crisscrossed the ground, led away, ran back and disappeared into the undergrowth, all of them heading for Aryndeneth, a day’s run to the east.

  Serrin, or at least that part of him which glimmered with the memory of a Silent Priest, prayed to Yniss that Auum’s soul had been preserved, whether aliv
e or dead. For those caught in the magical fire and the ensuing inferno, there could be no such hope.

  The ClawBound were all assembled in the clearing. Each pair maintained physical contact while the shock of what they saw ebbed away to fuel their desire for blood. They all looked at Serrin, awaiting his signal to close on the tail of the human army and begin to seek their vengeance.

  And so they would, but not like this. Serrin let his eyes travel the devastation once more and allowed the guilt to follow. He should have foreseen this reaction. He should have realised Ystormun would prefer to strike back at free elves rather than rip the hearts from his useful slaves in revenge. He should have listened to Auum. He should have stopped his cleansing. They were not strong enough to repel this invasion.

  Serrin crouched on the ground and tears welled up in his eyes. He touched the earth and felt its pain. He sampled the air and smelled the death of the rainforest all around him. He listened and heard the desperate cries of Tual’s denizens, unable to comprehend the horror being visited upon them.

  And all because the ClawBound had become more animal than elf.

  ‘Yniss forgive me,’ whispered Serrin. ‘We have fallen too far.’

  Chapter 13

  Yniss walked the glory of the forest and marvelled at the colours and the sounds and the scents. He looked above him and saw the purity of the sky above and knew his tasks were not yet done. Yniss laid a hand to his right and it rested upon the head of Gyal, the most beautiful, the most effervescent and the most expressive of his kin. And Gyal’s tears began to fall, and where they struck the ground, life surged and blossomed. ‘I could give this gift to no other,’ said Yniss.

  The Aryn Hiil

  Auum awoke. The forest was peaceful and the temple was cool. He was lying in a priest’s chamber. The bed was comfortable. He lay quietly, listening to the ambient sounds outside and the movement of elves within Aryndeneth. Memories started to filter into his mind. The run from the fight was vague. And he didn’t remember getting here at all, certainly not into this chamber.

  Auum sat up. Pain jabbed at his leg and his shoulder throbbed. He dragged the thin blanket from his body and looked down. He was wearing a clean loincloth. His ankle was strapped, the dressing was clean. His shoulder showed a mass of bruising but it was a couple of days old at least. His stomach was tender to the touch and when he stopped to think for a moment, his whole body ached.

  Auum swung his legs out of the bed and stood on his left foot, using a bedpost for support and hopping towards the door. He swayed when the blood rushed from his head, sitting back down heavily until the nausea passed. He looked around the room and chuckled. Someone knew him well: a walking stick had been left by the open door. He levered himself up and made for it as a figure appeared in the doorway. The beautiful face and warm, welcoming eyes were wonderfully familiar and totally unexpected.

  ‘Good to see you up and about,’ said Lysael, holding out the walking stick.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Auum.

  He took the stick and tested his weight on it. It looked old. It was carved from dark pine and had a pommel moulded to a polished ball by the caress of countless hands. Auum’s fingers closed on it, feeling a roughness at his fingertips which was all that remained of the carvings of birds and trees that had once adorned the pommel but were now confined to the neck.

  ‘Come with me,’ said Lysael. ‘Onelle and the TaiGethen are outside. It’s the Feast of Renewal today. Are you hungry?’

  Auum paused in mid-stride. ‘That’s not possible. The feast is three days away.’

  Lysael laughed. ‘There are some things that I’m good at, as High Priestess of Yniss. One of them is knowing the dates of all my god’s festivals. Trust me on this.’

  Auum’s heart began beating faster.

  ‘I can’t have been unconscious that long,’ he whispered.

  Lysael didn’t respond. The pair of them walked beneath the temple dome. Auum’s stick gave a hollow clack against the stone which echoed into the ceiling high above. With each step he tested his injured ankle a little more. The strapping was effective, stalling any lateral movement, but whether he used heel or toe he could feel the weakness and tenderness in the joint, musculature and ligaments.

  The smell of cooking fires was wafting into the dome. Auum’s stomach growled and he began salivating. Tapir, jao deer and hare were on the spit. Vegetable and herb stews were steaming away. Fruit soups added a glorious sweetness to the mix and the scent of fresh-baked bread completed the image of the feast. Auum hurried on as best he could, and out into bright sunlight. Gyal had blessed this feast day; it looked as if the rain would hold off for some hours.

  The apron was busy, not least with TaiGethen warriors seated on cushions surrounding a host of plates of food. The cook fires were all away to the right at the edge of the stone. Temple workers buzzed and flitted around them carrying ingredients, cutting meat and serving.

  Auum moved towards his people, counting them as he came. Forty-four had joined the feast. Including him, he had fifteen cells at his disposal, leaving only three cells out in the field. Merrat and Grafyrre’s cells were both tracking the Ysundeneth army, and the fact that he couldn’t see Corsaar probably meant the veteran cell leader was collecting information about other human forces in the forest.

  Ulysan saw Auum approach and stood, motioning them all to do the same. The TaiGethen held their cups out to Auum and bowed their heads in the traditional greeting, awaiting his permission to sup.

  ‘Gyal fills our rivers and the forest provides our roots. The skills Yniss bestowed on the elves brings the joy of taste to our mouths and freedom for our minds. Drink, lest Ix steal your spirit.’

  ‘For Auum. For the Arch. For the TaiGethen. For the forest.’

  The salute given, they drank and retook their seats. Auum sat with Lysael in a space made between Ulysan and Onelle. He chose water rather than spirits and filled his plate with jao dressed with fruit soup. It looked lovely but he couldn’t eat, not just yet.

  ‘What happened, Ulysan?’

  Ulysan set down his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘You finally lost consciousness as we reached the temple, though in truth you were incoherent for the last half of the run here. We thought you’d simply lost more blood than we’d thought but we couldn’t find any wound deep enough. It was Onelle who actually saved your life.’

  Onelle was blushing before his gaze was upon her.

  ‘I am for ever indebted to you.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid,’ said Onelle. ‘After all, if I said that after every time a TaiGethen saved my life, I’d still be catching up now. You do killing; I do fixing. All for the same god.’

  ‘Using the Il-Aryn?’

  Onelle smiled and gave a small shrug. ‘It is a pity to ignore a skill when it can genuinely help. And you needed help, Auum. The impact that dislocated your shoulder broke a rib, and that rib pierced you inside. You were slowly bleeding to death. I could stem that bleeding and straighten the rib.

  ‘The Il-Aryn saved your life.’

  Auum didn’t know why but the knowledge made him intensely uncomfortable. He scratched at his ribcage up by his shoulder as if doing so could dislodge the magic Onelle had used.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Onelle.

  ‘Yniss blessed you with an ability that has allowed you to prolong my work here on Calaius.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ said Onelle. ‘But don’t let it worry you. You’ll get used to the idea one day. You all will.’

  Auum inclined his head and returned his attention to Ulysan while Lysael and Onelle fell into a conversation of their own. He gestured for Ulysan to speak.

  ‘I’m sorry, Auum. There didn’t seem to be another choice.’

  ‘I will address it in my prayers,’ said Auum. ‘What of the enemy?’

  Ulysan searched Auum’s face for blame but he didn’t find any.

 
‘They continue to advance along the river. They are ignoring this temple, and make no search for Loshaaren or the Ynissul. There is a certainty in their route and I fear they know something.’

  Auum saw his train of thought and it was bleak indeed.

  ‘They cannot know the way, can they?’

  ‘All reason says not, and Onelle will tell you that no mage could possibly have the range to fly over Katura Falls…’

  ‘Yet they’ve surely received some information. Why else would they ignore Aryndeneth?’

  ‘We have found no other answer that makes sense.’

  ‘Katura is in no state to defend herself against such an army,’ said Auum.

  ‘Katura’s people are in no state to feed and clothe themselves, let alone fight,’ said Lysael. ‘How long since you’ve been there?’

  Auum shrugged. ‘Fifty years at least. There seemed no reason to go back once the last of the Ynissul had been persuaded to leave. Pelyn was in control, growing the Al-Arynaar. I know things have been more difficult of late but-’

  ‘You have neglected them for far too long,’ said Lysael. ‘Nothing is left of the place and the people you remember, not even hope.’

  ‘I cannot be everywhere,’ said Auum quietly. ‘I must trust others. I trusted Pelyn. Was I mistaken?’

  Lysael let her gaze drop to her plate. ‘When we are alone and our prayers are not answered, we may all fall prey to temptation.’

  ‘Where are the watchers? Why did no one tell me?’

  ‘Because there are those within Katura who have no wish for the TaiGethen to know what is going on,’ said Lysael.

  She couldn’t look at him and that scared Auum more than anything else he had seen or heard since the humans had invaded the rainforest.

  ‘But you could have,’ said Auum gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘You and I speak whenever we are here or Loshaaren. We have no secrets.’