Rise of the TaiGethen e-2

by James Barclay

  She instructed her people to offer no reaction to the taunts she would inevitably attract. With her head held high, Pelyn marched into the tight streets of the Beethan warren. The TaiGethen had reported little movement here in the small hours of the night and there was no doubt that fear of reprisals from the elven elite kept most behind their shuttered windows.

  ‘Tuali whore!’

  The shutter slammed before Pelyn could turn to look. Other shouts followed.

  ‘Nectar hag!’

  ‘Does the day hurt your eyes, slack face?’

  ‘Keep marching,’ said Pelyn. ‘Let’s face it. It’s what I am.’

  ‘What you were,’ corrected Tulan.

  ‘That is yet to be proved.’ Pelyn took a deep breath. ‘The craving will not die.’

  Indeed it was particularly intense right now. She knew why. Edulis was manufactured here. So much nectar just within her grasp, so much of it stored behind the closed doors they walked past. She could smell it on the air, and the tip of her tongue burned with the remembered taste of it. Saliva flooded her mouth, her head beat painfully and her hands began to shake. Yet she kept walking.

  The Al-Arynaar moved into the centre of the ghetto. Pelyn’s vision had tunnelled and she was aware that she was beginning to gasp. Ephram cleared his throat.

  ‘Orders, my Arch,’ he whispered.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Pelyn. She called the halt. ‘Put up the signs. Knock on each door. Force is sanctioned if there is any resistance. Archers to the rooftops. I want a clear path. No surprises. Not like last night.’

  Pelyn had been taken aback by the TaiGethen’s restraint. Though Auum had killed eight Beethans, including Jysune, no Tai had lifted a finger in further reprisal. In fact, Ulysan had been very particular when he ordered that clearing the ghettos should be carried out within the current laws of Katura. Pelyn had realised, belatedly, why it was being done this way. She signalled Tulan to make the proclamation. His was by far the loudest voice.

  ‘By order of Pelyn, Governor of Katura, all those in breach of Article Thirteen of the laws relating to manufacture and supply of narcotics are to be removed from their homes. All possessions and land held by such parties are forfeit and to be returned to the people of Katura. All those in breach of Article Thirteen are forthwith exiled from the city and bounds of Katura. Any who return to the city will receive the death penalty.

  ‘Let this order stand. Let it be carried out this day and all those in breach of it be taken beyond the city limits before nightfall. Any remaining within the city after the sunset must assume their lives forfeit. Any person harbouring those in breach must consider themselves in breach also, and so suffer the same penalties. That is all.’

  There were a few cheers and a smattering of applause. Pelyn smiled briefly.

  ‘Al-Arynaar!’ she called. ‘To work!’

  The dwellings of all those accused had copies of the proclamation pinned to their front doors. Those doors not opened at the first knock were beaten down. Six Al-Arynaar worked to clear each house in sequence while the rest remained in support on the street.

  There was little trouble. The archers who had escaped Auum’s attack had taken the story of his speed and ferocity back to their people and none wished to suffer the same fate as their erstwhile leader. The occasional scuffle was quickly snuffed out with cudgels and the threat of blades.

  It quickly became clear that many had already fled, most likely as dawn broke and the TaiGethen returned to the hall of the Al- Arynaar. Those who remained were herded into the centre of the ghetto, where they endured the abuse of those they had so recently controlled.

  Pelyn let it happen. She looked at the faces of the gang. They were downcast, beaten now that Jysune had made her fatal mistake and left them pariahs, hated the most by the one group of elves they least wanted to antagonise. There was an old saying about the fate of any marked by the TaiGethen. Pelyn circled the humiliated gang, happy to remind them of it.

  ‘ Sithiate, nun hannok thol, TaiGethen.’ The marked shall die, never hearing the TaiGethen come.

  Ephram came to her when a hundred and seventy-eight Beethans stood within the ring of Al-Arynaar, all of them waiting for an excuse to exact revenge for Elyss’ murder.

  ‘That’s the lot of them,’ he said. ‘And it gets better. There’s so much metal here. Stills, stoves, pipework…’

  ‘Good, although I’m afraid it will never be enough,’ she said. ‘Get them to the gates. With any luck you’ll drive them onto the swords of the very humans they deny are coming. Perhaps they can take the odd one with them. Then send someone to get the collectors up here. We’ll take a break, regroup, then hit the Tualis.’

  ‘Think they’ll still be waiting for us?’

  ‘One or two will be. It’s hard to leave all your power behind.’

  ‘And how are you holding up?’

  Pelyn rocked her hand from side to side. ‘Up and down, you know. I could do with a rest and my head is killing me, but I’ll survive. I owe it to Auum. I owe it to all of you. I’ve no idea why any of you are still standing by me.’

  Tulan shrugged. ‘Well I can’t speak for the others, but as for Ephram and me, you know why, you must do. You gave us a second chance. We’ll never forget that.’

  Pelyn surprised herself by throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am for ever in your debt.’

  ‘The way I see it, we’re even,’ said Tulan. ‘Ephram’s over there. Let him take you back to the hall and I’ll deal with all the Tualis. See you after lunch.’

  ‘You won’t find it hard to clear them? They’re our thread, we three.’

  Tulan shook his head. ‘We must be able to cleanse our own or we cannot wear the Cloak. You taught me that. Now go, please.’

  Ulysan, with Merrat and Grafyrre, had taken up a position from which they could see the wall of Katura. It was almost three quarters of a mile long with a single set of gates at the centre, a grand sculpted gatehouse surrounding them. All of it was made of wood, all of it vulnerable to man’s magic.

  The wall only stretched around the north and west sides of the city. The other two sides were open but nestled against the lake or river, which offered some protection. Ulysan was not concerned about them. The enemy had no boats since they had come inland and attack from those directions was extremely unlikely. It was possible for men to stand across the river and hurl spells into Katura, but it would be simple to evacuate everyone beyond their range. What concerned him more were the land sides.

  The forest ended, barring a thin scattering of trees, some two hundred yards from the walls. And while they would line the outer edge of that open space with pits and traps, that would not hold back an army for long. Worse, to the west there was a mixture of forest, farmland and open ground in a strip three hundred yards wide which stretched all the way to the base of the western cliffs. It made them weak.

  ‘Who’s going to tell Auum there’s not enough iron or steel on the whole of Calaius to do what he wants done?’ said Merrat.

  ‘I’m sure he already knows that,’ said Ulysan.

  ‘How is he?’ asked Grafyrre.

  Ulysan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He’s not returned from the Hallows. I will not rush him. We can handle things here until he gets back.’

  Out here in the eaves of the forest the hammering of metal on metal was muted, through it echoed from the cliffs with enough volume to keep Tual’s creatures silent.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how thin they make it, I can only see us patching the gate and a couple of hundred yards of wall either side. And that’s the absolute maximum we’ll manage.’ Merrat shook his head.

  ‘Stone,’ said Grafyrre.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know it was dismissed last night but we can’t ignore it. It’s stronger than wood and they have some cement here, though none of them are great masons. If we don’t have the metal, we’ll have to cement and dry-stone the gaps.’ Gr
afyrre pointed at the open western edge. ‘Particularly over there.’

  ‘It won’t withstand a barrage,’ said Merrat. ‘But at least it won’t burn or freeze. Ulysan?’

  Ulysan didn’t respond at once but began to trot back towards the city.

  ‘We’ll have to take the trap detail for now, and perhaps some of the food gatherers too. With the quarry across the lake progress will be slow, but I don’t think we have much choice.’

  ‘I’ll oversee it,’ said Grafyrre.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ulysan. He looked over his shoulder into the forest. ‘Take your time, old friend.’

  Auum had long since finished weeping over Elyss’ body. He had prayed into the early hours of the morning before leaving the Hallows to let Tual’s denizens begin the reclamation of the body. Elyss lay among those who had slain her, but Auum felt no anger. Her soul had departed to the embrace of Shorth with that of their child. Though their bodies lay near to hers, the Beethans’ souls would travel a very different path.

  ‘The soul continues; the body must return to that from which it came,’ said Auum.

  He had watched dawn break and had heard the city come alive to his orders. He took the opportunity to thank Yniss for the strength of the TaiGethen but he was not ready to return to the city just yet. He found a stream and washed himself and his clothes. Above, rain clouds gathered so he did not dress again; instead standing in a small clearing to let Gyal’s tears bless his body.

  Auum felt calm. He dressed in his wet clothes and put his back to a banyan, chewing on a root tuber and a sweet herb while he replayed, over and over, the events immediately after Elyss had been shot. He had assumed rage had driven him but he was wrong.

  Something more basic than rage had aided him in those moments — and it had only been for moments. It was a survival instinct, a primal reaction to protect himself and his loved ones.

  It had given him the utmost clarity of thought and tuned his senses more keenly than any other moment in his long life. It had given him greater speed of limb too, but the true difference had been in his reaction time. At any other time in his life he would have marvelled at what he had achieved. Today he could only regret the necessity.

  But through the confusion of emotions Auum could accept one thing. In that state he was a powerful weapon, and he presumed every TaiGethen had the ability to reach it. Yet he had no idea how to bring it out, how to trigger it, how to control it or how to shut it off.

  Auum looked into the heavens and held a hand up, palm open to the sky. He placed the other in the mud by the side of the stream.

  ‘Yniss, hear your servant, Auum. You have shown me a great gift yet the price I have paid for it makes me wonder at its worth. If it is your will that I have my eyes opened to what I can become yet must continue to seek that ascension, then I accept it.

  ‘But I am troubled, Yniss. The tasks you lay before me and before all elves are stern indeed. The gift of clarity… You have shown me the dance but have not taught me the steps. It could alter the battle and allow us to win against the forces that will range against us.

  ‘All I ask, my Lord Yniss, is for a sign, a way towards understanding how I might defeat our enemies and help the elves to glory in your name once more.

  ‘I, Auum, ask this of you.’

  Auum kept his head bowed and his eyes closed for a few moments. When he opened them, it was to see a pair of feet wrapped in tatty leather boots — TaiGethen boots. He let his gaze travel up the unkempt clothing to the face and its wild eyes.

  ‘I seriously doubt that you are any sort of sign for the good,’ he said. ‘Leave me.’

  ‘I heard your pain and I heard your prayers. I know what you lost and I grieve with you. But I also know what you achieved, and I can help. Have you forgotten how fast I used to be? How easy I found it to best you when we fought on the way back to Ysundeneth?’

  Auum stared at him and an icy shiver ran down his back, slow as a single drip of water.

  ‘Then sit and speak to me. Unless this has to do with magic, in which case run back to your acolytes because I have no more use for you.’

  Takaar sat.

  Chapter 31

  Question: Which is more deadly, a slighted ClawBound or a wronged TaiGethen? Answer: A yellow-backed tree frog.

  Elven playground joke

  This far from Ysundeneth Hynd needed other mages to lend him their strength to help maintain his focus. But none of them had to endure the dual sledgehammers of pain and extraordinary nausea during and after the Communion.

  When he’d stopped being sick and drunk the contents of both his and Jeral’s water skins, he looked reluctantly up at Ishtak, who was standing over him, that ridiculous sneer on his face.

  ‘I said I’d come when I was sure I wouldn’t puke on the high and mighty,’ Hynd said.

  ‘But he might still puke on you, Ishtak,’ said Jeral. ‘Which would do wonders for your body odour.’

  It was dusk and the march had ceased for the day. They were only four days from the city. Mages, high above the canopy, had seen it in the distance, and the news that their goal was in sight had completely changed the army’s mood.

  Most of the humans were already feeling a little more relaxed, now it was evident that the TaiGethen had been driven away and had too little strength to attempt another ambush. Knowing the end of their march was in sight and there were a load of Sharps to take their frustrations out on had led to something akin to a party atmosphere.

  Laughter and songs ran up and down the long line of the camp. Swords were cleaned and sharpened with renewed vigour and sparring had been reintroduced to sharpen reactions and remind them all of their drills, defence and attack. Bets were being laid about the length of the battle, the number of Sharps that would feel the edge of any given blade and the number of females the more repulsive soldiers could take on their first night of conquest.

  The news had also been the signal for the generals to move back up to the head of the line, puffed up by the glory of their imminent victory and striding about with their heads high, safe beneath multiple shields.

  It was exactly what Lockesh had predicted would happen. The moment the generals returned, Jeral and the rest of Dead Company had become the sacrificial lambs again and, time after time, were sent out to scout the paths ahead and any potential ambush points. Happily, Jeral’s stock was high enough for mages from other companies to accompany them, providing the cover Dead Company so sorely lacked.

  Most assumed that Loreb, in particular, wanted Jeral dead. Bets had been taken on that outcome too. The cheers that greeted Jeral’s safe return were getting louder and Loreb’s frown progressively deeper. Lockesh had warned him that there would be more direct action, and Jeral was getting very jumpy over the unfairness of it all. Hynd’s news was about to put all of it in perspective.

  ‘You will attend immediately,’ snapped Ishtak.

  ‘Or what? You’ll have to fondle his balls for him?’ Jeral was on his feet. ‘Ystormun chose Hynd to receive the Communion. Hynd. That makes him more important than you. So you will wait.’

  Hynd waved vaguely in Ishtak’s direction and dragged himself to his feet.

  ‘I’m ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Jeral.

  ‘Your presence is-’

  ‘Required.’ said Jeral. ‘This is my lead mage. Lead on, Ishy.’

  ‘Stop calling me that, Captain, or I’ll have you up on a charge.’

  ‘The moment you stop being an utter wanker, I’ll be happy to oblige.’

  ‘Childish,’ Hynd muttered as they began to weave the short distance through the line to the command post.

  ‘One thing always bothered me,’ said Jeral. ‘Why did Ystormun pick you? No offence, but you’re just a military mage.’

  ‘Actually, Ystormun didn’t pick me; Lockesh did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Can you see Lockesh puking his guts up after every Communion? Bloody hell, Jeral, he’s p
ractically part of the cadre himself. If there’s anything unpleasant like that he chooses a lackey for it. This time I got the poison dart in my arse.’

  Jeral laughed, and even Ishtak had something approximating a smile on his face. All traces of it had gone by the time they reached the command post though. Ishtak waved Hynd on and stood in front of Jeral.

  ‘Better let him have this one,’ said Hynd. ‘Tell you later.’

  Hynd wandered over to Lockesh with a few choice words from Jeral speeding him on his way. Ordinarily Hynd would have been smiling, but the message he carried occasioned no humour. Seeing him, Lockesh snapped his fingers and beckoned him to hurry.

  ‘You were summoned on the instant, not at your leisure,’ said Lockesh.

  ‘Forgive me my lord, Generals, but Communion over this distance leaves me temporarily incapacitated.’

  Pindock waved a hand impatiently. ‘Just give us your report.’

  Hynd took a deep breath.

  ‘Ystormun is under increasing pressure. He wants you to know that the cadre continue to demand this battle to be won quickly and with minimal casualties. Indeed their demands grow more urgent by the hour. The battle for Triverne is near. The cadre cannot hold back its enemies with diplomacy for much longer.

  ‘The Sundering is almost upon us.’

  Loreb took a long swallow from the bottle of wine in his hand. Pindock went even paler and sat heavily on a log, wiping at his face. Killith grumbled in his throat and pushed a hand through his greasy grey hair. Lockesh merely glared at Hynd.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord Lockesh. It was a short but pointed conversation.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘Nothing but to assure him I would pass on his words exactly as I had received them, which I have done. I have left nothing out.’

  Lockesh inclined his head a fraction.

  ‘Your sacrifice is noted,’ he said. ‘You are certain he gave you no specific orders and mentioned no one by name?’

  ‘Absolutely certain,’ said Hynd, comfortable to pass on the whole truth.