Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen

by James Barclay

  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.

  ‘Remind us,’ said Killith. ‘What’s the worst-case scenario for you mages if and when the Sundering occurs?’

  Lockesh cast his gaze heavenwards.

  ‘The Sundering is the once-theoretical-now-disastrously-probable shattering of the Triverne stone, the heart of magic on Balaia. You know that each mage uses mana which is channelled and focused through that stone. That’s true wherever we are in the world, whenever we create a casting. So what do you think might happen if the stone shatters?’

  Pindock spoke through trembling lips.

  ‘It would be considerably harder to cast spells, I should imagine,’ he said, plainly hoping that it would be a great deal less serious than that.

  ‘No,’ said Lockesh, stalking towards the career politician in soldier’s clothing. ‘Until another stone – another heart, if you like – was fashioned, it would prevent us from casting spells altogether. It would render us powerless.’

  ‘We are inside a sound bubble right now, aren’t we?’ said Loreb. Lockesh simply sighed in his direction. ‘Good. Because this news mustn’t reach the army. That means you, Hynd, can’t tell your pet a word of it. I will kill you, personally, should this news leak out. With your permission of course, Lord Lockesh.’

  ‘Granted,’ said Lockesh. ‘Hynd, wait for me. Say nothing to anyone. Particularly, as the general says, to Captain Jeral. I will speak to you when we are done here.’

  Hynd bowed and left the command post. He was shaking. During and after the Communion, the words had sounded like a death knell in his head but hadn’t truly sunk in. Now they had, they terrified him. He kept sampling the mana flow to convince himself it was still there.

  He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to be denied it, to reach for it only to find it absent. Like death, perhaps. It would be an unbearable loss, anyway. He hugged himself, head down, hands rubbing at his upper arms. A vague sense of nausea was building inside him. He sampled the mana flow again. Was it as strong and certain as before?

  Hynd stopped abruptly, just a few paces from where Jeral waited impatiently, clearing his throat noisily. To build the shape for a spell and to cast it only for the mana flow to disperse without warning . . . Gods on a pyre, the effects would be disastrous, catastrophic even, and certainly explosive. Hynd shuddered and shook his head, trying to believe it wouldn’t actually happen.

  ‘Lost your way? I’m over here.’

  Hynd looked up. Jeral was waving at him and had spoken as if he’d been hollering at him from a long distance.

  ‘Something on my mind,’ said Hynd, trying to relax.

  ‘Well you look really jittery, if that helps,’ said Jeral, walking over to him.

  ‘Not in the least.’ Hynd indicated they leave the column and he sat with his back to a tree, ignoring the dampness which spread through the seat of his trousers. Jeral squatted next to him. ‘Funny, isn’t it? When we started this march, I’d have cleared this whole space before sitting down and looked up until my neck hurt to make sure no snakes or spiders were going to drop on my head. Now look at me.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re a man the Sharps look up to now. But never mind that. Spill. What’s the big news that’s got you so twitchy?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Sure you can.’

  ‘I’ve got orders.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jeral. ‘From me. So what did the old skeleton tell you? Whatever it was, those morons in charge must have reacted badly to it if you’re anything to go by. Come on. I’m not your captain; I’m your friend. The one who clears up your vomit, remember?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ said Hynd. He was fidgeting and couldn’t stop himself. He nodded back towards the command post. ‘Orders from a higher authority. He wants me to wait for him, so you might hear something from him.’

  ‘Something major, though, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  They didn’t have to wait long. With a stride that indicated his anger, Lockesh marched out of the command post, barking at soldiers to get out of his path. He beckoned Hynd and Jeral to him with a curt gesture and carried on walking, moving further from the column and out towards the pickets, whose firelight was bright in the deepening gloom.

  ‘Those utter idiots,’ he muttered. ‘Right, Hynd. They think I am ordering you to try to commune with Ystormun again, to get clarification. Never mind that Ystormun chooses when to conduct Communion; their ignorance suits us for now. You and I will concoct a conversation over a bowl of whatever revolting broth is on the go.

  ‘Jeral . . . You’ve told the good captain nothing, I presume?’

  ‘No, he bloody hasn’t said a thing,’ said Jeral.

  ‘Just as well.’ Lockesh was silent for a moment. Hynd felt him constructing a spell shape and then casting with a circling of his right index finger in front of his face. ‘Right. Jeral, I am going to entrust you with knowledge that, should it become public, will bring about your immediate, untimely and extremely painful death. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Good. Ystormun has sent word that the Sundering might happen earlier than expected but given us no exact time for it. Suffice to say it could happen at any time and there is unlikely to be any warning that it is coming. You understand the difficulties that will cause, I take it?’

  ‘Hynd has explained it to me before, my lord.’

  ‘I’m sure he has,’ said Lockesh. ‘Sadly, whatever he told you was no idle speculation. As you can imagine, the prospect of losing all magical support has left our glorious leaders running in little circles of panic and bluster. It is also, already, leading them to make all sorts of rash decisions about our plan of attack that will be the death of us all.

  ‘You’ve heard the mages’ reports about the position of the city and its angles of approach. Soon you will have more information about its defensive capabilities. I need you to start developing tactics that can be effectively deployed assuming you have no magical resources at all on which to draw. And I also want plans for defending helpless mages from marauding TaiGethen. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, protecting me is far more important than invading any city.

  ‘Work with Hynd on this. Develop plans which include very limited spell possibilities too . . . basic shields, walls and so on, perhaps – simple and quick castings. Jus
t in case, you understand.’

  Lockesh stopped and turned to face them both. Hynd should have been afraid but for some reason he felt a thrill that he shared with Jeral. From the certainty of failure had leapt the possibility of success, as long as his friend was in charge.

  ‘The one piece of good news is that you, Jeral, are off their hit list for now. They need every capable soldier they can muster. Nonetheless, Hynd, you must not slacken in your efforts to keep him alive.

  ‘The potential of a Sundering is going to make the generals rush in when they should wait and watch. They will attempt to seize victory in far too short a space of time and in doing so will make mistakes the enormity of which will be studied by students of war for generations to come. When those orders are given, you need to be ready to step in, Captain Jeral. If your stock is as high as I think it is, men will follow you rather than their orders, although that situation might not come about in an instant.’ Lockesh licked his lips. ‘And I will back you too, when the moment is right.’

  Hynd flinched. That was something he had thought never to hear. He swapped glances with Jeral. For once there was no quick riposte waiting. Jeral understood the situation.

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ he said.

  ‘Trust no one. Tell no one,’ said Lockesh. ‘We risk much by doing this, should we have to, but we risk even more by not being prepared when the time comes. Do not fail me. I will not die here. Not for you and certainly not for our useless trio of quill-wavers.’

  ‘I won’t let you down.’

  Lockesh nodded and his face relaxed. For the first time he displayed concern for those whose lives he risked alongside his.

  ‘Look, Jeral. I’m asking a great deal of you, and even if we succeed here your future will be uncertain. I can protect you from some things but not from the machinations of the army. When we get home, they’ll either promote you or they’ll execute you.’

  ‘Some choice, eh?’ said Jeral and a smile touched his lips.

  Lockesh nodded. ‘Welcome to the world of Triverne politics.’

  Chapter 32

  There is nothing beyond the Claw.

  Serrin of the ClawBound

  Auum was gone for three days, and in that time, while he wouldn’t say he came to understand Takaar, he did regain some small measure of respect for him.

  Auum had watched Takaar go before returning to the city. Leaving the eaves of the forest, he saw and heard the work going on, and while he was lifted by the industry, he knew in his heart that it could never be enough. He saw Ulysan near the city gates and trotted past teams of elves digging pits on the open ground, past Pelyn drilling a fledgling militia in defensive sword moves and others practising with bows, spears, staves and pretty much any other weapon they could find.

  Auum stepped aside to let carts carrying fruit, game, vegetables and herbs into the city, but his heart sank when he looked at the walls. The metal plating was fractured and thin. Stones, some cemented, some laid dry, had been hammered into place to augment the metal and protect the vulnerable wood. The covering, such as it was, only stretched across a third of the walls, and so far there was nothing to protect them from an attack across the open ground to the west.

  Ulysan was directing another piece of riveted plate into position.

  ‘Ulysan,’ said Auum. ‘Bless you for all you have done. I’m sorry I was gone so long. And thank you for checking on me.’

  Ulysan enveloped him in a bear hug, eventually pushing him back to look into his face.

  ‘A TaiGethen is never alone. You chose an unlikely partner for your prayers,’ he said. ‘Are you strong?’

  Auum put a hand to his chest and felt his throat tighten. ‘Elyss and our baby are safe here with me for now. Grief will have to wait. Tell me where we stand.’

  ‘In all but one area, we are ahead of where we need to be. Unfortunately, that one area is the wall. We have neither the raw materials nor the skills to forge enough plate to cover the walls as you wanted. We have been to every building in the city and into the mines as well. Everything we have is waiting for the smiths’ forges and hammers. They work day and night. There is no rest for anyone.

  ‘We are ferrying stone from the quarry too, but it is a lengthy process and we will soon have to begin cutting more, unless we start digging up the foundations of the city. We are already taking up all the cobbled streets.’

  ‘Stone will blow apart,’ said Auum. ‘Their ice can conquer cement.’

  Ulysan shrugged. ‘It is all we have and it is better than wood.’

  ‘What about the western ground? It is an open wound. We have to block it somehow.’

  Ulysan bit his lip. ‘We have a plan, but it’s a risky one.’

  He pointed up to the head of the cliffs, hundreds of feet above the city. Auum could see elves moving up there and, now he focused, he could hear their grunts and shouts of effort.

  ‘What’s up there?’

  ‘We’ve brought boulders over from the other side of the city near the quarry and got them up there with rope, pulley and muscle. Some of them are the size of twenty of you. Last count we had seven of them. Four more will be in place today, all ready to tip.’

  Auum let his gaze travel down the cliff face and into the open ground below with its sporadic patches of forest, and on towards the western wall around Katura.

  ‘The rain run-off will have eroded the cliff face over time. It looks loose all the way down.’ Auum pointed while he spoke. Indeed the evidence of previous rockfalls lay all over the ground. ‘Boulders of that size will start an avalanche, which could have enough momentum to sweep through the city walls. I don’t know, Ulysan.’

  ‘I said it was risky. The way we’ve positioned the boulders means the trees will limit the risk to the city. I’ve agonised over this, Merrat, Grafyrre and Faleen too. We don’t think we can bring enough stone over in time to fortify the wall and felling trees to make a barricade only lessens our defensive advantage – and will be to no avail against their magic. We’d welcome another option.’

  Auum imagined the avalanche and the sheer destructive power it represented was beguiling even though once started it would be completely beyond their control. Such a risk, but such potential too; and they were nothing if not desperate for anything that might give them an edge.

  ‘When did you plan to release the boulders?’

  ‘Today. We thought that if the worst happens, that gives us some time to rebuild, and to organise the rubble into a solid wall.’

  Auum raised his eyebrows. ‘I think that’s too early – you’re thinking too defensively. The enemy will see that ground as a weakness. They’ll attack it, I’m sure. Let them come, let them fill that space. Then release your boulders. No magical shield is going to withstand such an avalanche. Remember, we have to win this fight, not just fend off defeat for as long as we can.’

  Ulysan smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell me, then?’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘Whatever you and Takaar spoke about for three days on end.’

  Auum thought for a moment, wondered if telling Ulysan would inspire him or undermine him. He banked on it being inspiring.

  ‘There’s another state of combat. Takaar discovered it while he was exiled and Elyss’ murder cast me into it. It was extraordinary, Ulysan. I could see everything so clearly. My enemies were ponderous and I was so . . . precise. But it’s a state that can’t be taught. It must be found.

  ‘When all this is over, we’ll have the time to seek that part of our minds that gifts us this skill. To my great regret we cannot hope to learn it before the humans reach us. But for those of us that live through this, there is so much more for the TaiGethen to experience.

  ‘So don’t die, all right?’

  Ulysan regarded him for a moment. ‘That was unexpected to say the least. You’re going to have to tell me more.’

  ‘Later. In private. Don’t say anyth
ing to the others; it could be a distraction and Yniss knows we cannot afford that.’

  ‘I’ll find you,’ said Ulysan.

  ‘I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.’

  The tracking cells had reached Katura bringing news that every soul already knew. The enemy campfires had been visible for a couple of nights now, and the sound of song and the thump of thousands of feet had echoed along the valleys since the day before. The enemy would reach them before nightfall.

  Auum, along with the defenders and the population of Katura, had watched the mages fly overhead out of bowshot range. Sending abuse and threats skywards had eased the tension, and a sudden downpour had brought cheers when it sent the mages scurrying back to their camp.

  Auum hoped they had seen enough to give them pause, and to hurry their decision to attack across the western space. He had stood on the gatehouse roof all day while final preparations and patches were made to the walls. Below him, the briefings and drills had become dress rehearsals for the battle to come.

  Everyone knew their post. Everyone had their tasks to perform. The great question was whether the unskilled, utterly inexperienced elves would stand when the spells rained down and the enemy soldiers charged the city.

  They had a pitiful number of skilled defenders. Just twelve full TaiGethen cells along with Auum and Ulysan, making thirty-eight warriors in all. Plus the hundred and eighteen Al-Arynaar who followed Pelyn. She hadn’t the fitness for a day’s fight and her eyes betrayed the depth of her enduring desire for edulis.

  More than two thousand had been drilled as militia and some had proved themselves capable, but the raw fact was they were not soldiers. They were youngsters, or old ulas and iads . . . plus farmers, fishers and potters. Hardly a formidable force, and while some had the ability to command, Al-Arynaar were at the head of most. The rest of Katura’s twenty-thousand-strong population would have to fight with tooth and nail if the time came.

  Only the hunters gave Auum cheer. There were fifty of them, all with good skills with bow and spear. He had entrusted Takaar’s tree frog poison to them, with a roving brief to shoot down as many of the enemy as they could, whenever they could get away a certain shot.