Pelyn turned to Methian. The old Gyalan’s face still held the anger from Jakyn and the museum arch.
‘You did exactly the right thing,’ she said.
He looked up, his eyes boring into her face. ‘It isn’t that. Those two Gyalan animals deserved to die like the dogs they were. I just wish we’d fired the museum. None of them deserve life. Not after what they did.’
‘I understand, but you can’t afford to think that way. Eventually, there will have to be forgiveness. Yniss save me, I’m probably going to have to forgive Helias. That ula is elusive as a taipan and has more life than an Ynissul, I swear it.’
Once the Gyalan guard had laid poor Jakyn on the ground, Pelyn had seen something she never thought to see. Methian lost control of himself. Pelyn had half expected him to slap the guard on the rump with the flat of his blade, tell him to take a warning back to the others. But he had punched the guard in the stomach as he straightened, slammed the pommel of his sword into the Gyalan’s neck to knock him down, kicked him over onto his back and buried his blade in his chest.
Only then had he broken down in tears. Tulan and Ephran had moved Jakyn’s body into shade and Tulan had laid his cloak across the boy’s ruined body. They planned to collect him later and take him into the rainforest. The temple of Shorth was out of bounds.
‘I’ll think on it. But I’m old, Pelyn. Getting old, anyway. And I never thought to see this. The violence is frightening. My violence frightens me.’ Methian’s hands were shaking. ‘I should have gone into the forest with the Apposans.’
‘You still can. That’s not desertion, it’s retirement.’
Methian managed a smile. ‘Thank you, Pelyn. But I think I have to see this through. Find out who we are as a race of people. I don’t want to turn my back and not know what I’ve left behind.’
Pelyn looked away across the Park of Tual. There was movement all around its periphery. More further up the Ash too.
‘Tulan. Men are coming.’
‘We’re ready,’ said Tulan’s voice from the bottom of the stairs.
Pelyn took a pace away from the window, hiding herself more firmly in shadow.
‘I think we’ve been foolhardy coming back here,’ she said
‘We needed to get a picture of the city. Something to plan by.’
Pelyn chuckled. ‘I saw the look on your face when you heard me suggest it, old ula. And I saw you look over towards the Hausolis Playhouse.’
Methian got up from the end of the bed he’d been sitting on and joined her.
‘Well, I did wonder. No thought of a little malicious enjoyment watching the Tuali run?’
‘You know me too well. But still, be ready to run yourself. No doubt Helias told them to leave the houses untouched, but these are men we’re talking about here. Paid thugs. Trust them?’
‘Like I trust a piranha.’
Nillis saw the movement, thought it had to be the perimeter guard, looked again and was equally certain that it was not. He tightened his grip on the sharpened stave he’d fashioned while sitting about waiting for Helias to come back, then tapped Ulakan on the shoulder.
‘What is it?’
Ulakan was bored. Nillis could see it in his eyes. Privately, he thought Ulakan had gone too far, got too violent in the raids last night. But the ula, barely out of education like himself, seemed to revel in it. Like his parents, who were also here, he was not slow in saying that this had been coming for a long, long time.
Plenty of other Tuali had seen what were presumably enemies gathering on the borders of the park, still mainly hidden by fence, wall and tree. Voices were raised in warning and the group, maybe three hundred strong, began to spread in anticipation of combat.
‘Come on, cowards!’ called Ulakan. ‘Show yourselves. Take us on if you think you’re able.’
Ulakan’s taunts were picked up across the crowd. Laughter followed. Fists and weapons punched the air. But what emerged from the brush and climbed over or broke down the ornamental fencing were not Ixii or Beethans or Cefans. Voices quietened. Tualis started backing anyway though the enemy was coming in from all sides.
Bravado died in throats. Weapon tips dropped. Nervous elves glanced around, their eyes flickering over the faces of those beside them, looking for comfort. There was none to be had. Nillis guessed there had to be a hundred of them. Most armed but some of them not. Men.
Fear spread through the Tuali. They were just civilians in the main. Big and brave when running and fighting other civilians. But coming at them now were professional soldiers walking with cool purpose, keen edges drawn and ready. They wore stiff leather and steel-capped boots. They were tall, powerful and brutal. Scarred and bearded. Cold-eyed.
Walking just ahead of them were unarmoured men. They’d all heard men were here and that something called magic had been used to murder Lorius. Nillis knew that those men in common clothes were the wielders of it, whatever it really was. Nillis felt Ulakan near him.
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Ulakan said. ‘Make a break for it or we’ll be trapped.’
Nillis’s heart was beating fast. ‘It’s too late for that, isn’t it?’
‘No. Follow me. Any others who come, good luck to them.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘It’s now or never. Come on!’
And Ulakan ran. He ran hard towards the north end of the park where the line of men looked a little thin. Nillis took off after him. He heard the shouts of some and the footsteps of others follow them. Ulakan was laughing, excited by the sprint. From the line, two of the unarmed men stepped forward. They raised their hands, palms out. Nillis could see them talking. They made a pushing motion.
Ulakan collided head on with something and bounced off, falling back. Just like he’d run headlong into a wall. Two paces later, Nillis suffered the same fate. He bloodied his nose on the invisible barrier, jarred one wrist and snapped his stave. He sat down hard on his backside and looked over at Ulakan. His friend was staring at him, disbelieving. Ulakan got up. A single pace this time and the barrier was there.
Ulakan reached out to touch it. Nillis did likewise. It felt like nothing. Not metal, nor wood. He couldn’t describe it. But it was moving as the men moved. Nillis backed off fast. He turned, ran back to the crowd. Men were closing in all around them. A dozen of them, all with their arms outstretched, pushing the barriers before them.
More and more Tuali tried their luck only to bounce off the implacable blockades. Elves were screaming. In their panic, Tuali iad and ula flung themselves at the invisible barriers again and again. Blood smeared faces and hands. Knuckles were raw. Nillis and Ulakan stood shoulder to shoulder. Ulakan’s parents were behind them. All of them backed off pace by pace as the walls closed in.
Nillis fought to believe what was happening. He knew it was real. He could feel the barrier right in front of his nose but still it confused him and part of him felt his mind was playing tricks.
‘We’re in big trouble here,’ said Ulakan, his confidence gone and real fear in his eyes. ‘What if they don’t stop pressing?’
There was no space. Tuali were crammed hard against each other. The heat inside was rising. Nillis’s arms were down by his sides and he had no way of raising them. Bit by bit, they were being squeezed. The screams and cries to stop grew louder in the confined space. Prayers to Yniss and Tual were chanted.
Nillis tried to turn his body and found he could not. Ulakan next to him was being crushed back and front. His breathing was coming in short gasps. Behind Nillis, someone passed out, their body leaning against his, unable to fall.
Abruptly, the movement ceased. Indeed the pressure eased just a fraction. People could breathe again. Literally. Nillis watched the warrior men move to stand in a ring just behind the others. One took a single pace forwards. His speech, heavily accented, was in reasonable common elvish.
‘You will drop any weapons you hold. Then we will give you more space. You will then lose any weapons you carry in scabb
ards, belts, boots. We will then release the barrier and you will be our prisoners.’
Iad and ula hurried to obey. Weapons hit the ground with thuds and clatters. The man shouted in his own language and was answered by several others, all with what sounded like an affirmative. The unarmed men drew back their arms a little, giving the Tuali glorious space. Nillis flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders. The ula who had fainted behind him was helped to the ground and tended. At least six others that Nillis could count were in similar states.
‘Good,’ said the man. ‘Now, any other weapons. We are watching you.’
Nillis took both of his knives from his belt and dropped them to the ground to join the thickening carpet of weapons. Ulakan hesitated.
‘Don’t be stupid, Ulak,’ said Nillis. ‘Now is not the time for your sort of bravery.’
‘We can’t just surrender. It’s just giving ourselves up to the Ynissul.’
‘Live today, fight tomorrow,’ said Nillis. ‘You won’t help anyone by getting stuck by a human blade because you tried to take them on all by yourself.’
Ulakan glared at him then unbuckled his sword belt, on which hung three daggers. He brought a short knife from his boot too and threw it down. He made a show of empty hands to the men outside the barrier.
The one who was apparently their leader, a big heavyset human with a thick beard and a nose squashed over his face, strutted to and fro, nodding and laughing.
‘Fucking sharp-ears,’ he said. ‘You don’t get any smarter, do you?’
Nillis felt cold as the laughter spread around the circle. The man barked another order. The barriers were gone. Warriors charged them.
‘NO!’ screamed Ulakan.
He dropped to his haunches and snatched up his sword. He held it to ready. Nillis, too terrified even to scream, felt warm and wet down his legs and tried to back away to nowhere. The men crashed into the helpless elves. He saw one bat Ulakan’s sword aside and then plunge his blade straight through his chest. Blood fountained into the air.
Bloodied blades rose and fell, chopped and hacked. Elves tried to run in every direction. Men howled in brutal pleasure. Nillis turned around. A blade covered in slimy gore ripped into the neck of an ula standing right in front of him. The elf crashed back on top of him, trapping him.
He stared out at the carnage. Shrieks filled his ears. Laughter too. Prayers turned to sobs and then to nothing. The sick thud of metal on flesh and bone. The desperate pleading, the screams cut off. The awful wounds. Jaws smashed to fragments. Skulls cracked open. Bodies split, entrails pouring on to the ground. The splash of boot through blood. The hot sour stench of shit mixed with innards. Steam rising.
Blood slapped at Nillis’s ear like the gentle incoming tide. The elf lying atop him was still shuddering with the last of his life. A blade came down and hacked deep into his skull and the shuddering stopped. The body slid to one side.
Nillis stared straight into the cruel eyes of a human swordsman.
The man grunted a laugh. His teeth were broken and rotten when he grinned.
His blade rose.
Nillis watched it all the way down.
Chapter 26
Courage lies in the willingness to die for those who are yet to be born.
Pelyn had her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Tulan and Ephran had run upstairs to confirm by sight what they had heard. Methian was standing in front of the bedroom door, stopping them from running out to fight.
The slaughter was done. Hundreds of Tualis butchered by men in the service of the Ynissul. Pelyn felt sick. The spray of blood when swords were raised to hack down another youth or helpless ula or iad would remain in her nightmares for eternity. As would the sight of men walking through the charnel, kicking the bodies to make sure all were dead. Chopping down on those still in the final throes.
Others knelt to clean their blades as best they could on blood-soaked clothes before searching pockets and picking up the best of the weapons. Daggers smothered in gore. Short swords kicked from the hands of those who had tried to defend themselves at the last.
‘We can’t just stand here!’ shouted Ephran.
‘And what will you do, the pair of you?’ snapped Methian, shoving them back yet again. ‘Rush out there and take on a hundred men and their bastard magic?’
‘We have to do something,’ said Tulan, weeping his words.
‘We can keep quiet for a start,’ hissed Pelyn, dragging her gaze from the park. ‘And we will do something. We’ll take news of this to any who will hear. And we will strike back, I promise you.’
Pelyn felt empty. Never mind that many of those murdered would have visited equal cruelty on her. This they did not deserve. No elf did. She glanced back outside. Men were gathering, talking and pointing. Immediately, they began to move towards the houses of the Ash. Others were already most of the way to the street.
‘And they don’t want any witnesses,’ said Pelyn. ‘Time to leave.’
The four Al-Arynaar ran down the stairs and headed for the back entrance across the garden. The men were already at the front door, crashing through it. She heard shouts behind her. They’d been seen.
‘Move!’ shouted Pelyn.
They headed across the broad communal gardens, breasting through the thick bamboo edging into the back alley. Pelyn looked left and right. Men appeared right and sprinted towards them. She pushed Methian ahead of her. Their escape route would lead them back down towards the Glade and into the face of the men advancing up the Path of Yniss, heading for the centre of the city.
Six or seven men were behind them, losing ground but shouting for others to join the chase. Tulan led the way down the narrow passage between garden borders. Pelyn glanced up on instinct. Mages above them were directing the enemy.
‘We’ve got to find cover!’ she shouted. ‘Tulan, head for the fish market. We can lose them in there if we can make it.’
Tulan made the end of the alley and turned right, the others close behind him. They’d exited onto Keeper’s Row. It ran parallel with the Path of Yniss for a time before angling in to join it at the head of the Glade. From there a run north halfway back towards the harbour, and they’d find the fish market.
Pelyn glanced behind her. A mage hovered overhead. He was calling and gesturing. Men spilled out of the alley fifty yards behind them. The mage flew overhead, tracking their route. She saw him looking to his left and making another beckoning gesture.
‘Tulan. Watch left. More coming your way.’
She needn’t have warned him. Six more men ran from another alley to block their escape. Tulan slithered to a stop and drew his sword; Ephran came to his right to stand by him. Pelyn turned and drew her own blade, Methian to her left. Four against twelve with more undoubtedly coming. It didn’t look good. The mage circled overhead. At least it seemed he couldn’t do any other damage while he was in the air.
‘Keep talking,’ said Pelyn. ‘Keep moving. Don’t break the circle.’
The men ran at them in line abreast. They carried long swords; some had daggers in their free hands where others preferred to go two-handed.
‘Time for your revenge, Tulan,’ said Methian.
‘I hear you,’ said Tulan.
A shadow flashed across the facade of the houses to Pelyn’s right. She heard a mourning wail. Light sparkled on metal. The mage screamed. All eyes looked up. A jaqrui crescent jutted from his chest. His wings flickered and disappeared and he plunged to the ground.
Pelyn smiled at the hesitating humans.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘You’re in trouble now.’
Seizing the moment, Pelyn ran forward, slashing her blade across chest high. Her target saw her late, his guard only half formed. Pelyn’s sword dashed his from his hand. She balanced quickly and reversed the blade high across the man’s face, the edge biting deep.
Next to him, a second man dropped soundlessly, falling forward. A third followed, blood spurting from his mouth, the elven blade plunging i
nto lung and heart. Behind them, Grafyrre spared Pelyn the briefest of smiles before launching a fresh attack.
‘Methian, help Tulan. We’ve got this lot,’ said Pelyn.
The men were in disarray, not knowing which way to turn. One came at Pelyn though his attention seemed elsewhere. Pelyn blocked the half-hearted strike to her face easily, stepped forward and punched her enemy square on the nose. He staggered back. One of his comrades called a warning. Another man fell forward, blood sheeting down the front of his armour.
Grafyrre bounced into the air, turned a somersault and landed legs wrapped around the neck of his next victim. He jammed daggers into either temple. The man collapsed. Grafyrre rolled backwards, landed on his hands and sprang back to his feet. Pelyn drove her blade into the last man’s gut, just above the waist where leather met leggings.
The man gasped and fell to his knees. Grafyrre wrapped an arm around his head and broke his neck. Pelyn turned. Three more men lay dead. Grafyrre swept up his weapons but made no further move to join the fight.
‘Leave them,’ he said to Pelyn. ‘It is under control.’
And so it was. Tulan battered his blade into the side of one, putting him down on the ground. One of two short blades held in Merrat’s hands finished him. The other stabbed up into the groin of a human knowing his time was done. Ephran took the sword hand from the last man. He whimpered, clamped his other hand across the stump and stared at the six elves.
Merrat ghosted up beside him. She spoke in common elvish.
‘Do you understand me?’
The man nodded.
‘Good. Then listen. This land is ours. This city is ours. We shall not yield it. Go back to your army. They will leave or they will all perish.’
The man started, amazed he was to be allowed to live. He mouthed words but no sound came. Ephran poked him with the blade that already carried his blood.
‘Run,’ he said. ‘Before we change our minds.’
Howling fear, relief and agony, he ran away, back the way he had come.
Elves: Once Walked With Gods Page 24
