‘I beg your pardon?’ Garan had clicked his fingers at someone Haleth couldn’t see before turning his attention to Sildaan. ‘Why not?’
‘Well, first, they have no need to follow you so closely. Their trail skills are quite extraordinary. And second, they want to give you time to recount your tale of terror to all who will hear before they come to finish the job they started.’
Haleth couldn’t cover every angle at once, so whichever way he turned, he felt eyes from the depths of the forest boring into his back. He realised he was shaking. He eyed the sanctuary offered by the temple. The place made him uneasy but at least he could put his back to a wall in there. Or hide somewhere very dark and quiet.
‘Then we must prepare,’ said Garan. ‘Ah, Keller, there you are.’
Garan’s lead mage was a man of average height, average features and wholly above average talent.
‘What do you need?’
‘I need you to infest the edges of this apron with wards. Alarms, disablers and destroyers. Plenty for my guards to stand behind anyway. We—’
‘What are you doing?’ asked Sildaan.
Less of a question, thought Haleth. More of a demand. Garan gave her a look that suggested she was simple. Her eyes just bored into him. Emotionless like the ghost in the forest.
‘I’m making us safe,’ said Garan. ‘Anyone who puts a foot on your stone will regret their final step. And anyone who survives that will face the swords of my warriors. Good, eh?’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Sildaan.
Haleth tensed. Garan’s face was stone.
‘This is fighting,’ he said. ‘This is my domain.’
Sildaan shook her head. ‘I will deal with these two. Clear the apron. Keep all your men out of sight. Now is probably a good time to give that order.’
Garan stared at her, Haleth watching him examining her for doubt and treachery. ‘You’d better know what you’re doing.’
‘This is my land,’ said Sildaan.
‘And what about the other Silent? The one who made such an easy mess of your loyal priests?’
‘By the time he chooses to return, we’ll be long gone.’ Sildaan looked at them each in turn. ‘So are we clear what needs doing?’
She strode away towards the temple. Garan huffed out a breath.
‘Patronising bitch.’
‘Yeah but you know what, boss?’ said Haleth.
‘What?’
‘Her dealing with those bastards while I’m somewhere else entirely seems to me the perfect plan.’
‘Except you can’t trust the sharp-ears. However far you think you are away, don’t turn your back, all right? I need you.’
‘I hear you, boss.’
The afternoon was on the wane when Auum and Serrin reached Aryndeneth. They had tracked the man’s footsteps easily. Evidence of desecration increased the nearer they approached the temple. They had to assume there had been an attack.
Auum brought Serrin to the fringe of the forest and together they looked over the empty apron towards the doors, which stood open. Inside, the temple was dark. It was so quiet.
‘It seems there will be no Feast of Renewal this year,’ said Auum. ‘Where are my brothers and sisters? And where are yours?’
Auum knew. Serrin knew. The temple was never left unguarded. It was never empty of worshippers and priests. There was only one reason the TaiGethen would be absent. Auum swallowed. He was staring at the unbelievable, the inconceivable. He felt nauseous. Only his fury at the defiling of his temple calmed his body, quelled the shaking in his limbs.
‘We must go in,’ said Serrin.
Auum nodded. He led Serrin around the edge of the apron and silently up to the doors. There were dark stains on the stone. Flies buzzed and swarmed. The whole place stank of death. He feared what they would find within. Waving Serrin into his wake, he entered.
The cool inside the temple, its peace and reverence, was instantly calming, yet Auum could not be at one with his favourite place on Calaius. No TaiGethen stood around the walls of the dome. No priests were at prayer in front of the statue of Yniss that dominated the huge space.
Between the precisely set windows, the walls and domed ceiling were covered in intricate murals. They depicted the coming of Yniss to Calaius before the first elves set foot there and the trials of the elven peoples to earn the right to live with the land. They charted the work of Takaar when he split his time between the two elven homes. And above the doors was a pictorial representation of the text Takaar had written regarding the energies he claimed to have felt on Calaius, energies that came to represent the heart of the harmony.
But no mural or historical record could vie for attention with the statue of Yniss, which rose seventy feet into the dome. Yniss, the father of the elves. Yniss, who gave them the gift of living as one with the land and its denizens, with the air and with the natural earth energies that were grasped in the hand of Ix, the most capricious of gods. Auum, as ever, let his eyes feast on the statue, which was carved from a single block of flint-veined polished pale stone.
Yniss was sculpted kneeling on one leg, head looking down along the line of his right arm. The arm was extended below his bended knee, thumb and forefinger making a right angle with the rest of the fingers curled half-fist. The god was depicted as an old elf, age lines around the eyes and across the forehead. His long full hair was carved blowing back over his right shoulder.
Yniss’s body was athletic perfection. A single-shouldered robe covered little more than groin and stomach, leaving open the bunching shoulders, beautifully defined arms and powerful legs. Yniss’s eyes seemed to sparkle with life, nothing more than a trick of the water at his feet and the light in the temple.
Yniss channelled his life energy along forefinger and thumb into the harmonic pool by which he knelt, from where it spread throughout the land, bringing glory where it touched. Pipes concealed beneath the statue’s thumb and forefinger fed water from an underground spring into the pool beneath the statue’s outstretched hand.
Some believed the statue and its precisely measured water flow was the final piece in the completion of the harmony, a circle of life in effect. Auum believed in the energy that maintained the earth but the statue had been created by elves, not their gods. It was not credible to believe anything deific had been bestowed upon it.
Auum and Serrin knelt before pool and statue and prayed to Yniss to preserve them for the tasks to come. Auum felt his prayer uncertain for the first time in his life and realised it was because, uniquely, he felt uncomfortable in here. When he caught Serrin’s gaze he knew the Silent felt the same way too.
‘Walk behind me,’ said Auum.
Serrin nodded. Auum kept the pool close on his right and walked around by the statue of Yniss. It was not unheard of for the temple to be empty but it was for the doors to the contemplation chambers and reading cells to be free of guards. Within, all the greatest treasures of the elven religion were kept. A lone figure was approaching along the passageway towards them. Auum felt a euphoric relief.
‘Sildaan,’ he said. ‘We feared the temple taken. There’s blood all over the stones.’
Sildaan started, stared open-mouthed and just about managed to continue walking forward. She made a quick glance back over her shoulder.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ she said. ‘You aren’t due here.’ Sildaan was wearing the robes of a scripture priest, every part of the cream material sewn with favourite quotes and maxims. She appeared distracted and a little confused. Auum’s presence seemed to unsettle her.
‘You’re in shock. I’m sorry we weren’t here to help repel the strangers.’ Auum paused. ‘Sildaan. Where is everyone? The TaiGethen. The priests?’
Sildaan frowned. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Men are here. Their mark is all over the forest. Or it was.’
Sildaan’s head came up sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I am TaiGethen,’ said Auum. ‘I am a cleanser of the rainforest.�
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Sildaan gaped. ‘It was you?’
Auum shared a look with Serrin. The Silent Priest spread his hands. He didn’t understand her either. Auum tried again.
‘There were twenty men approaching the temple. We spared one to take the story back to whoever brought him here. We tracked him here. We feared others had sacked the temple. We’re blessed to be wrong.’
Sildaan had paled but she managed a smile.
‘The temple is secure,’ she said, looking over her shoulder again.
‘What’s wrong, Sildaan? There’s no danger back there. But we need to place guards. Where are the TaiGethen?’
Sildaan gestured behind her. ‘I’ve forgotten something. If you’ll excuse me?’
‘Of course. Yniss bless you, Sildaan, we are very happy to see you alive.’
Sildaan’s smile was thin. She turned. A moment too late as it proved.
‘Sildaan. It’s time to go. I’m sick of whining mages. Where are—’
The voice belonged to a man. One of two striding out of one of the cells a few doors down the corridor and marching towards the temple dome as if he owned it. Auum’s twin blades hissed out, everything Sildaan had said, her every reaction, horribly clear now. He cursed himself blind. Serrin’s body was rigid, the rage dragging a hiss from his lips. His hands shaped into claws.
The men pulled up short just behind Sildaan, staring at Serrin and Auum. One smiled.
‘Good of you to let me live,’ he said in good modern elvish. Haleth. That’s what the others had called him. ‘Not where you thought I’d lead you, eh?’
‘Your reprieve was only ever temporary,’ said Auum.
He moved towards the man, already knowing where he would strike. Sildaan blocked his path and placed a hand on his chest. She was a priest. He could do nothing but acquiesce. For now.
‘You will not spill blood in this temple,’ she said, all traces of vagueness gone from her voice and a hard strength in its place that Auum didn’t recognise.
‘Elven blood, no,’ said Auum. ‘I will wait for you outside, cascarg. They are dead already.’
‘Back off, Auum. You don’t know what you’re dealing with,’ said Sildaan.
‘I am dealing with a man who saw all his friends die. He knows he cannot beat me. You know you cannot stop me getting him. Or his friend.’
‘Please, Auum,’ said Sildaan. ‘There are powers at work here you cannot beat. The TaiGethen are finished. Go run the rainforest. Your work in Aryndeneth is done.’
Auum recoiled as if slapped, his blades flat against his legs. Confusion roared through him. He couldn’t gainsay her. He was merely a bodyguard, not of the temple elite. Authority under Yniss had to be maintained. He was dismissed. There was nothing he could do. He backed off a pace, switching his gaze to Haleth, who flashed his eyebrows and waved a goodbye hand.
Auum could not disobey her. And Serrin should not. Within the temple walls at least. But these were times when nothing was certain. The Silent stalked into the gap and gripped Sildaan’s neck with one long-fingered hand, his sharpened nail points digging in where he gripped.
‘Auum is my guard. He does my work. I order him to ignore the words of a traitor,’ hissed Serrin, having to drag every word out under the dome.
Sildaan’s eyes widened. Her hand went to her belt only to find Serrin’s other clamping down on her wrist. Auum growled and once again looked at Haleth. The smugness was gone from the man’s face and he muttered a curse Auum did not understand. Auum’s blades came to ready.
Haleth was smart. He stepped behind Sildaan and held a dagger past the side of her head, its point coming to rest a hair’s breadth from Serrin’s left eye. Serrin froze. The other man turned and called out. Auum could not understand the human language but very quickly there was the sound of hurrying feet. Four men came down the corridor. None were warriors. There was a brief exchange and the quartet began to make small hand movements, odd gestures and mutterings. The air cooled. Auum felt a throbbing in his body and an uncomfortable pulling sensation.
The other man cleared his throat and addressed himself to Auum and Serrin.
‘Now what’s going to happen is that the sharp-fingered one is going to let Sildaan go. He will do so very carefully or Haleth may stumble and he will die in a sheet of pain. And you, my TaiGethen friend, will sheathe your blades and walk backwards until you can feel the statue behind you. I will then move in the opposite direction with Sildaan and we can all make our escapes. Be assured that if you feel you still want us dead, my colleagues here will freeze you such that a flick of my finger will shatter you to a million fragments. Do I make myself clear?’
Auum shrugged. ‘I can kill all of you before you make the first cell door.’
‘Auum, you can’t,’ said Sildaan. ‘I know you hate me but believe this. I have seen what these mages can do. There is no TaiGethen fast enough to outrun one of their castings.’
‘What is a “mage”?’ said Auum, staring at them. Helpless, unarmed humans. ‘They do not frighten me.’
Haleth laughed. ‘Of course. Not seen magic before, have you? Perhaps a little demonstration?’
‘No!’ snapped Sildaan. ‘You will do no such thing. Auum, please, I implore you. Do what Garan says. Survive today and do what you will tomorrow.’
‘I will come after you,’ said Auum.
‘So be it. What I am doing makes the Ynissul stronger. It will return us to where we belong.’
Auum closed his eyes briefly, an intense sadness in his heart. ‘Anything that destroys the harmony and goes against Takaar can only finish us. We will stop you.’
‘It is already too late for that,’ said Sildaan.
Serrin had released Sildaan’s throat and wrist and stepped back away from the heretic priestess. The cascarg. Traitor. Auum had a clear run on her and Garan but Serrin gestured him to hold his thought. The Silent knew him too well. Auum reached up and sheathed his twin short blades in the scabbards on his back. He took a pace back, then another, as slowly as he could muster.
Garan smiled.
‘Why thank you,’ he said.
He shouted something in the human language and dragged Sildaan over backwards, the pair of them crashing to the floor.
‘No! NO!’ yelled Sildaan.
Down the passageway, the mages all opened their eyes and brought their hands together. Auum knew in that instant that Sildaan had been telling the truth. He grabbed Serrin by the arm, dragged him around and pushed him into a run. He held a hand against his priest’s back and sprinted towards the statue of Yniss.
The air pressed in on Auum’s ears. It chilled and froze. He could feel the ice on his neck and the back of his head. There was a roaring sound all around him. He heaved his hand forward, practically throwing Serrin over the left arm of Yniss. The pair of them plunged into the harmonic pool. Auum held on, and with his free hand grabbed a feed pipe beneath the hand of the statue.
An extraordinary cold passed overhead. The pool froze. Inch upon inch of ice formed in a moment, crackling and spitting, forcing down towards them. Serrin was beginning to struggle in his grasp. Auum cupped his priest’s chin, forcing the ula to look at him. He saw the panic in Serrin’s eyes and shook his head. Auum put a hand to his heart, the gesture of trust for a TaiGethen. Serrin calmed.
Auum let him go and looked up. The ice was thick but not impenetrable. The water around them was cold. Colder than anything he had ever experienced. He had about six feet of water between the base of the pool and the thick ice above his head. He could see no movement around the pool yet but it wouldn’t be long.
Auum chose the centre of the pool. He drew both blades and turned them hilt up in his hands. He smacked them both against the underside of the ice again and again, watching for the telltale lattice of cracks. Same as for cracking a dried mudslide. He hoped the other part worked as well.
Serrin saw what he was doing. Auum switched his grip, pointed the blade tips up. Serrin grabbed at his waist and hauled him to the
bottom of the pool, allowing him to crouch and stare up at the tiny weakness he had made. Auum nodded at Serrin.
The priest let him go.
Auum powered up. His feet were planted, his thighs, honed from a life running in the forests of Hausolis and Calaius, did not fail him. He focused on the lattice of cracks, and hammered his blade tips into them, praying to Yniss that he had done enough. Praying his blades did not shatter.
He had the blades right in front of his face, his elbows tight into his chest to soak up the impact. At the last, he tucked his head in and trusted Yniss to guide his hands. Auum felt the blades strike the underside of the ice. He heard cracking and popping. He felt the frozen layer give.
Auum exploded through the shattering remains of the ice, roaring in a fresh breath, exulting in the warmth that had already invaded the temple to cover the cold the mages had used to try and kill him. He brought his arms to his sides, fury making him shudder. The men were just gathering at the side of the pool. Mages, whatever the hell they were, admiring their work. Haleth too, tracking his movements, his mouth hanging open.
Someone was shouting a warning. Auum landed on the lip of the pool, already moving forward. Around him, the mages were backing off, muttering and gesturing again. Auum thrashed his blades around left to right, the leading edge of the right blade cutting through the face of one mage, that of the left blade thumping into the arm of another.
Auum balanced instantly on his right leg and kicked out high with his left, the flat of his foot slamming into a third mage’s nose. He drew the leg back in, still balanced on his left, and roundhoused the last of them, the top of his foot slapping into the mage’s ear, sending him clattering to the floor.
‘Shorth take you to eternal torment,’ he said.
His path was clear to Haleth. The man had a blade drawn. He crabbed sideways, looking for an angle. Auum ran forward, dropped and slid across the slick stone floor. Haleth tried to chop down with his sword. Auum’s feet crashed into the man’s knees. His own blades crossed above him, catching Haleth’s blow.
Haleth fell sideways. Auum pivoted on his right knee and rose smoothly to his feet. Haleth scrabbled back, trying desperately to get his sword in front of him and his feet beneath him. Auum stood over him.
Elves: Once Walked With Gods Page 6
