Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura

by James Barclay

  ‘That’s what he always claimed. His was a boundless ego.’

  ‘A boundless talent,’ said Takaar. ‘Don’t belittle what he knew.’

  Kerela felt Takaar tense and she swallowed hard, feeling herself begin to shiver.

  ‘I don’t. But he was never shy of telling us how great he was.’

  Takaar stared at her, his expression bleak. ‘And you should have listened. Maybe then he would be alive, and I could speak with him and we could do the great things together.’

  ‘I don’t—’

  Takaar stood and marched across the room to the fireplace, which needed more fuel before the embers cooled. He rubbed his hands across his face, but when he turned back the fury she feared was not evident and instead there was a broad smile on his face.

  ‘He may not be dead!’

  Kerela blinked. Everyone had seen the manse. No one could have survived the conflagration. Takaar rushed back across the room, and for a moment Kerela thought he was going to drag her into an embrace but he stopped short. His eyes were alive with possibilities and his hands were shaking as he gesticulated.

  ‘Think! He has hidden the spell in a chamber placed in another dimension. Why would he not hide there himself when his enemies closed around him? He could open doors to other places. Who knows where he is now, laughing at your pathetic attempts to find his secrets. Ha! And until humans find another mage who understands the magics of all four colleges as he does, they’ll never even open the door!’

  Kerela felt exhausted all over again by Takaar’s sudden energy, but she could not deny his excitement was contagious and what he was saying had a certain logic to it. But there was a major flaw in his hopes.

  ‘There is no such person,’ she said. ‘There never will be. Not unless Septern left instructions somewhere, to act as a key.’

  Takaar snorted. ‘Why would he do that? He has taken such care to remove himself from those he thinks unworthy of his secrets, why would he leave a key on a hook for anyone to find?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a key in that sense,’ said Kerela.

  Takaar rolled his eyes. ‘I know. You don’t understand. It is a challenge, and only the mage who can solve the problem is worthy of his secrets. And it will be an elf who does it because we have the time that humans do not.’

  Takaar wandered back into the centre of the room, muttering to his other self. Kerela shouldn’t have been so confident in his words but there seemed no doubt he was right. Truth be told, he almost always was. Kerela rose from the bed and moved slowly towards him, desiring to hear what he was saying.

  ‘. . . could do it. Why not me? Is the study of human magic so different? I am an immortal and dare I say it, a genius . . . You don’t agree? Well, that comes as no surprise, but I must start now. Here in the library. It’s a new challenge.’

  Kerela reached out a hand but snatched it back when he snapped his head round in her direction. His eyes looked straight through her. He sagged visibly and half fell into a chair, tears on his cheeks.

  ‘There is always another task to perform and it must be me, mustn’t it . . . ? You’re right – only I can do this – but more than that, only then will I have the time, the peace to do my work here.’

  Takaar stared up at Kerela and there was such sadness in his face that she almost burst into tears herself.

  ‘The great risk is that I will not come back and then both his and my secrets will be lost for ever. The choice I make is the hero’s choice.’

  It was a moment before Kerela realised he was addressing her directly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Takaar, I’m not following you.’

  ‘Dawnthief must wait. The Wytch Lords must be defeated.’ He sighed, and his head dropped to his chest. His fingers fidgeted with the ties on his jacket. ‘Where is Auum?’

  The change of subject threw Kerela for a moment. She sat in a chair opposite him and poured two goblets of wine from the jug on the table between them. She took hers and drained it in one. Takaar did not raise his head.

  ‘Auum went to join the fight at Understone Pass. He took the Il-Aryn and some of our mages with him. They were ambushed by Xeteskians and have fled into the mountains. Auum knows the Wytch Lords and Xetesk are in alliance and he is seeking out tribal Wesman lords in order to turn them against the Wytch Lords. It’s a desperate gambit if you ask me, but he’s right that if their alliance holds, they’ll sweep us away.’

  Takaar was nodding.

  ‘He hates magic that much he seeks to befriend others who share his view.’ Takaar raised his head and his eyes sparkled. ‘But he’s underestimating the hold the Wytch Lords have on the shamen. He never spoke to Garan, you see. So he doesn’t know what creatures like Ystormun are capable of deep in their shrivelled souls.’

  ‘His plan could work,’ said Kerela.

  ‘But not in the way he expects. I must find him.’

  ‘I can help you there,’ said Kerela. ‘I am in contact with Stein.’

  Takaar shook his head, and his eyes lost their sparkle as his mind closed around him once more.

  ‘No. I know a way and I will bring all the help I need. Tell him I will find him. Tell him he must hold on. He cannot do this without us.’

  ‘Us?’

  Rith gathered her Il-Aryn in a tight huddle. Auum could see their distress. It was difficult for some of them to stand and every one of them shivered so hard it was unpleasant to watch. But he was no better. His teeth knocked together, his hands thrust inside his jacket would not be able to grip a sword, and he only knew his feet were still there because he stamped them hard on the ground while his strength ebbed away, stolen by the cold.

  When the huddle was done, most of the Il-Aryn moved away and sat once more, their bodies twined together. Eight remained standing. Rith blew out her cheeks and looked at Auum.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said. ‘Pray for us.’

  Auum nodded. ‘Yniss will hear you and Ix will grant you energy. You will succeed because you are who you are. I believe in you.’

  Auum felt his pulse in his throat and he stilled to watch the Il-Aryn. Every eye was on them and prayers were being spoken. Whatever it was they were doing, everyone knew it represented their last chance. They were standing in a circle facing each other, their arms about each other’s waists or shoulders, keeping them tight, keeping them a degree warmer. The preparations seemed to go on for ever. The snow swept under the overhang and the wind howled around the wall, accelerating the drop in temperature.

  The sudden quiet took a heartbeat to register. The last snowflakes settled gently, no longer driven by the gale, which was muted, venting its fury against the barrier the Il-Aryn had built. The relief was extraordinary. Auum watched the faces of the elves begin to soften, luxuriating in the calm within. Stein, his mouth gaping comically, pushed his hands against the barrier, which glowed and pulsed a pale blue.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘This is not a mana construct.’

  Rith was smiling. ‘It’s just air, but we have made it solid. It’s like the barrier against the Wytch Lords, except it need only deflect natural elements so we have stopped the movement of the air and expelled the moisture within it.’

  ‘I can work with this,’ said Stein. ‘My mages can warm this shell. This makes it worth investing heat in the stone beneath us. And we should bring loose rocks to pile up wherever we have the space and warm them too. How long can you keep this up?’

  ‘I have fifty adepts,’ said Rith. ‘If you can warm us, let us conserve our energy, eat and sleep, we can rotate. Then we can keep this up for ever.’

  ‘But if you’ll allow me, you need to make a small adjustment,’ said Stein. Rith bridled but said nothing. ‘We need ventilation or we will suffocate, and we need to dry out too. Without any vents all that moisture will hang in the air. And you will need someone on hand to create an opening for those who need to go out for . . . you know.’

  Rith’s expression softened and she smiled.

  ‘We can do that.’
>
  ‘This magic,’ said Ulysan. ‘Bloody rubbish, isn’t it?’

  Auum said nothing. There was nothing to say. He was still shivering and soaked but he watched the Julatsan elves begin to lay castings in the stone and on the inside wall of the barrier. Blessed warmth began to grow. He touched the barrier with his fingertips. Without it they would all have died. Magic had saved them all, it had saved him.

  Auum caught Rith’s eye and inclined his head in silent apology.

  Chapter 28

  I wish someone had told me that wanting to be in charge and being in charge were such utterly different things.

  Kerela, High Mage of Julatsa

  Stone had never felt so comfortable. Auum hadn’t lain down until his clothes had dried out enough to give him a little comfort. Neither had he been able to settle when feeling returned to his face, hands and feet. The tingling and aching had been difficult to endure but ultimately very satisfying.

  Before he rolled his damp cloak up for a pillow, he took the time to whisper words of thanks to, and say prayers for, those of the Il-Aryn currently maintaining the barrier. He lay for a while enjoying the chatter around him before sleep swept him off to the dark.

  Moments later he woke to the light of a new dawn. Beyond the cocoon the snow fell thick and unrelenting, blown by the harsh wind. He shivered at the prospect of leaving the shelter. Next to him Ulysan was snoring. Auum thumped a fist on his chest and he turned away, still snoring.

  ‘The idea is that you wake up,’ said Auum.

  He could smell cooking horsemeat, and there were plenty of elves already awake who were eating their fill, gazing out at the cold and smiling at their fortune.

  ‘I know,’ came Ulysan’s voice muffled by his body. ‘But now I can’t get up because of this pain in my chest.’

  ‘It’s a sobering thought that while we have escaped death, at least for now, we have not, nor ever will, escape your jokes.’

  ‘Did not Yniss say that some things must remain constant for us to survive?’

  ‘No,’ said Auum.

  ‘Well he probably should have done.’

  Ulysan sat up, and Tilman stirred and pushed himself up on his elbows next to him.

  ‘How’s the patient?’ asked Auum.

  ‘Me?’ asked Tilman.

  ‘No, the other human with a bad ankle,’ said Ulysan.

  Tilman didn’t understand the big TaiGethen.

  ‘Yes, you,’ said Auum.

  ‘I can walk,’ said Tilman. ‘It’s still healing but the mages say that exercise will help now.’

  ‘Looks like you’re out of a job,’ Auum said to Ulysan.

  ‘Then you woke me for no reason.’

  Auum clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I have a much better job for you and for Merrat, Graf, Marack and Hohan for that matter.’

  Ulysan stared at him, his expression bleak. ‘It’s pathfinding, isn’t it?’

  ‘A brisk walk in the cold never hurt anyone,’ said Auum.

  ‘Dear Yniss spare me, I wish I was Il-Aryn,’ said Ulysan gloomily. ‘When do we start?’

  ‘As soon as we can borrow enough clothes to keep us warm. We need to get off this mountain.’

  ‘Just as I was starting to enjoy it.’ Ulysan glanced at Tilman. ‘Can you climb?’

  Tilman patted his leg.

  ‘Bad ankle,’ he explained.

  Ulysan roared with laughter.

  Hohan dropped the last fifteen feet back down to the ground, slipped on the ice and was caught by Marack.

  He shook his head and pointed up into the blizzard. ‘There’s an overhang. I don’t think even Ulysan could grab the edge let alone some frozen Il-Aryn,’ he said. ‘It’s not possible, sorry.’

  Auum, his hands cold despite the thick bindings of torn cloth on his palms leaving just his fingertips free for climbing, leaned back to escape the worst of the angry wind. They were running out of options. Hohan had almost fallen on one ice-covered climb; Ulysan had made good ground on a face that led to a low peak but could find no way beyond it; and Auum had attempted to cross an ice bridge only to have it crack beneath his weight. He’d been able to get back but the bridge had fallen into a chasm. Marack had climbed high but had found the wind so strong it all but lifted her from the cliff face, and she had come back without reaching the top, saying it would be impossible for the Il-Aryn to ascend.

  That left Grafyrre and Merrat, who had inched out along a narrow ledge over a precipice to where the former thought he had seen a climbable fissure during a break in the weather yesterday. They’d been gone longer than Auum liked.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ said Ulysan, sensing his mood. ‘They’re almost as good as me.’

  Auum nodded and stared in the direction they’d gone. The elves weren’t far from the overhang and the warmth of the barrier, and it still gave Auum a good feeling to think of the moment it had snapped into place and he’d known that they were all going to live. But the morning’s search for a route had been fruitless, and should the pair come back blank, the only remaining chance was further along the ledge beyond the crack. No one knew what lay there; only that it turned into the teeth of the gale.

  ‘I’m going to take a look,’ he shouted, leaning his head into Ulysan as the wind roared its fury yet again. ‘See if I can help.’

  ‘Leave them,’ said Ulysan. ‘Don’t fear for them.’

  Auum couldn’t help it – he felt anxious and fidgety.

  ‘It’s not like you can hold a rope for them, is it?’ added Marack.

  Auum held up his hands. ‘But what if they’re in trouble?’

  Ulysan raised his eyebrows. ‘This is Merrat and Graf, remember? It’s not Tilman and Stein out there.’

  Auum cracked a smile which broadened when he saw two indistinct shapes moving towards them through the blizzard. Merrat and Grafyrre joined them on their ledge, blowing on their hands and stamping their feet.

  ‘It is seriously cold out there,’ said Merrat.

  ‘Well it’s good to have you back on this ledge in the warm with us then,’ said Ulysan.

  ‘Speak to me, Graf,’ said Auum.

  ‘It’s climbable, even relatively straightforward in places,’ he said.

  ‘I sense a but,’ said Auum.

  Grafyrre nodded. ‘It’s narrow in places too. You won’t get up there with a pack on your back and some of our larger individuals might struggle.’

  ‘Surely we can tie a line of packs and let them hang below,’ said Marack.

  ‘We can work on that.’

  ‘There’s another but isn’t there? What’s at the top?’

  ‘First off, it’s a good long climb. We’ve been assessing the best routes all morning as well as scouting the next section. It’s a tough ask for the mages and adepts and it’s far too windy for flying,’ said Merrat.

  Grafyrre continued, ‘There is respite at the top, though. It’s a wide plateau bordered by two peaks, north and south. Easy walking, plenty of scrambling and the odd little climb though it’s really exposed. It ends with an ice-covered slope down at quite a gradient. You wouldn’t want to slip on it.’

  Auum had a sinking feeling. ‘And what’s at the end?’

  ‘We didn’t get that far but we suspect it’s a sheer drop,’ said Merrat.

  Auum turned his palms up. ‘So, is it our route? It’s your say. We try it, or do we go further round the ledge?’

  Grafyrre and Merrat looked at each other for a few moments.

  ‘We should take it,’ said Grafyrre. ‘I didn’t like the look of the ledge further on and it comes right round into the gale. Anything climbable that way is going to be extremely difficult.’

  ‘All right,’ said Auum. ‘Let’s go and relay the good news. We’ll try and solve the pack issue when we get there.’

  ‘Who did you mean when you talked about “larger individuals”?’ asked Ulysan while they were waiting for Rith’s team to create a door for them to enter the dome.

  Merrat threw an arm around his
shoulders and patted his barrel chest.

  ‘No one, old friend, no one in particular.’

  The weather had deteriorated enough for Auum to abandon all thoughts of moving up the fissure in the mountain that day. It was a popular decision, not just because of the battering winds and snow so thick visibility was zero, but because another night meant more rest, more healing and greater strength for the day ahead.

  They set off at first light the following morning. The wind had lessened slightly though the snow was still dense and cloying. The whole party had moved to the face Hohan had tried to climb the day before, and while small groups were led forward to the ledge to climb, the rest were able to enjoy another Il-Aryn shelter, though this time not heated by Julatsan elves.

  TaiGethen moved above and below the inexperienced climbers, using themselves as footrests, halting any slides and heaving up those not strong enough to brace themselves against the walls of the fissure all the way up. The narrows caused brief anxiety, but only Stein had struggled with the width so far. Most of the packs had made it up with just a few snags and tears, although some were lost. It was a small price to pay for good progress.

  So it was that Auum and Ulysan along with Oryaal, Evunn, Duele and, inevitably, Tilman reached the climb with their group of seven Il-Aryn. While Ulysan explained the method and Oryaal demonstrated the route with an effortless grace the adepts would not be able to replicate, Auum stared upwards. Grafyrre had estimated seven hundred feet and it was at least that long a climb.

  Auum chewed his lip, looking up at the narrowing of the walls about two thirds of the way up, while the wind whistled into the fissure and the snow bunched at his feet before being blown away, some spiralling in an updraught like ash from a fire.

  Tilman proved himself a lithe climber despite his ankle, and he went up with Evunn to show the path while the Il-Aryn followed at their own pace, Duele and Oryaal behind them. The ascent was steady and without panic, and the knowledge that shelter and a hot meal waited at the top gave energy to aching muscles.