Elves: Once Walked With Gods

by James Barclay

  ‘Yniss, spare me. We don’t need this,’ said Katyett, reaching out a hand of comfort, which Pelyn took and squeezed briefly before dropping.

  ‘They’ll have found our base before nightfall at this rate. We need to be ready. We’re due to surrender at dawn as it is.’

  ‘Surrender. Right. I’ll eat my own jaqrui pouch first. As for ready, I’m not sure that’s possible. How close are the flyers? We can take out the land scouts but those damned flying mages are the real problem.’

  Pelyn considered. ‘It’s not as if they can see much through the canopy. They’re looking for partial clearings like this. They won’t see it until they come over the hills south or around the tall slopes north. And they are close to those, but they have to keep changing scouts, like they get tired or something, or have done their spell. If our luck turns, the next one could find us before we eat again. Time to get bows up to the canopy roof?’

  ‘Don’t ever speak to me like that! You don’t even know these people. How can you judge them?’

  Takaar’s voice split the relative calm. Pelyn flinched violently, her concentration on her task broken. She made to walk to Takaar but seemed unable to decide if it was a good idea.

  ‘Maybe you can calm him. I didn’t do a very good job,’ said Katyett.

  ‘What did you do, punch him?’

  ‘No, I shouted at him while banging his head against the ground.’

  Pelyn snorted back a laugh. Takaar’s head snapped up and he scrambled to his feet. He shook off Auum’s hand and walked forward a couple of paces.

  ‘Pelyn, your laughter has been lost to me for too long.’

  Katyett watched Pelyn and saw a mirror of herself. Loss, confusion. Fury. Exhilaration.

  ‘I can’t think of a single thing to say,’ said Pelyn. ‘After all this time. Pathetic, isn’t it? And I replayed this moment so many times. But I thought you dead. Sometimes I wanted you dead. I was ready for you to be dead.’

  ‘There are a thousand ways to die in this rainforest, did you know that?’

  ‘What does that - ?’

  ‘I investigated many of them, you know.’ Takaar turned and beckoned Auum to him. ‘Here are some. Ways to kill a thousand men. But we need to be close. Yes, as close as that, and we may smell their sweat, but that is a price worth paying to smell their mouldering corpses the day after, is it not? Hmm. I win again.’

  Pelyn turned to Katyett, shaking her head in confusion.

  ‘I think he has voices in his head, ’ Katyett said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And we don’t have time to pander to him. Say something. Just don’t bang his head on the ground.’

  Pelyn made a face. ‘I’ll try not to.’

  ‘And be tactful,’ said Katyett. ‘He’s fragile. Odd.’

  Pelyn nodded. ‘Takaar, a moment, please?’

  Takaar was searching through a stitched leather bag from which the strong odour of fish billowed out. He made a triumphant sound and pulled out a clay pot with a wooden stopper in it. He bounced it from hand to hand.

  ‘Be careful with that,’ said Auum.

  ‘In here is the death of thousands. Thousands upon thousands more, if we go harvesting.’ Takaar’s eyes gleamed with something akin to zeal. ‘You don’t think I’m right in the head, do you, Pelyn?’

  ‘That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Pelyn carefully. ‘Takaar, we have little time.’

  ‘The men are coming. They will unleash a storm on this forest that we may not survive. And I may not lead. Do not ask that of me. There, satisfied that my pride is under control?’

  ‘I’m not asking you to lead us,’ said Pelyn. Takaar looked crestfallen, as if he were about to burst into tears. ‘But we do need your help. Will you help us?’

  Takaar clicked his tongue in his mouth. He sucked in air over his teeth and shook his head rapidly. Katyett felt sorry for him. Sorry for all of them. She’d placed so much hope on Takaar and here he was, barely clinging on to sanity if he was actually clinging on at all.

  ‘A cloak with a hood,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘You want one?’

  ‘Evidently. We cannot encumber ourselves further with my being recognised by others, can we?’

  There was relief in Pelyn’s posture. ‘No, no, of course not. Perhaps one of the dead humans . . .’

  ‘Ideal.’

  Katyett frowned. They were taking a huge risk involving him. Merrat was already unhooking one of the light traveller’s cloaks from a dead mage. She handed it to Pelyn, who passed it on to Takaar.

  ‘Good.’ Takaar set off towards the camp, the TaiGethen and Pelyn trailing in his wake. Auum fell in beside Katyett. ‘Now then. You mentioned being overflown. How is that possible? I must see this for myself. Auum, put this away.’

  The clay pot was tossed casually over his head. Auum snapped out a hand and caught it. He held it carefully for a while before returning it to the sack slung over his shoulder.

  ‘What’s in there?’ asked Katyett.

  ‘The pot or the sack?’

  ‘Well both, but let’s start with the pot.’

  ‘Yellow-backed-frog poison. Takaar says they secrete it from their skin. Touch it and die. Put it on the end of an arrow or something and kill your enemies very quickly.’

  Katyett raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s harvested the stuff? Aren’t we taught just never to touch one?’

  ‘That was the guts of my training on the subject. But Takaar, as he is very fond of saying, has had ten years with little else to do but study his guilt and all the ways to end his life should he be brave enough to do so.’

  Katyett smiled. ‘I expect you’ve had quite a journey. What’s he like, really? Like he is now?’

  Auum’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Truly I never know from one moment to the next. He’s utterly unreliable in his mood and attitude. I’m not sure he really knows why he is here. Sometimes on the journey he appeared so calm and lucid that I forgot he was ever other than that. The next instant, raging and jabbering to the voice he can hear or withdrawing so far I can get nothing from him. Not even a pace in the right direction.’

  ‘He’s a serious risk, isn’t he?’ said Katyett, lowering her voice too.

  Up ahead, Takaar and Pelyn were talking. Pelyn was clearly ill at ease. Auum touched Katyett’s arm and gestured they fall back a little way. Katyett had not realised she was trembling all over.

  ‘Takaar could win us this fight or he could bring disaster down on us. But he has all his old strengths in there somewhere. I pity the rogue Ynissul who mistakes his oddness for weakness. His combat skills are undiminished.’

  ‘Had a fight, did you?’

  ‘He tried to kill me. Serrin stopped him. Serrin is safe, by the way. I’ll tell you about him later.’

  ‘As you wish. Listen to me. Things have been getting much worse here. The rogue Ynissul are not what you need to worry about. Takaar has guessed it but not the scale.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  Katyett related the recent history of Ysundeneth, watching the dismay deepen on Auum’s face.

  He was silent for a while. ‘It’s after some big use of this magic that he’s most vulnerable. That’s what worries me if the mages start making a lot of castings.’

  Katyett frowned. ‘How can that be? He’s never been anywhere near any of it, has he? Certainly not near Ysundeneth.’

  ‘He’s different from us,’ said Auum.

  ‘I can see that,’ said Katyett, surprised at the bitterness in her tone.

  ‘No, I don’t meant that. He feels everything that happens to a greater or lesser extent. It’s to do with the energy lines he found here. He picks up on changes and violence in the earth’s energy. Like the Apposans and Orrans say they do. But more. What you told me about the playhouse and the warehouse? All makes sense. He felt those things happen as if they were personal attacks.

  ‘There’s something inside him waking up and he says we all have it. I think it causes h
alf of the problems in his head. If he was still truly feeling the guilt and remorse of the Tul-Kenerit, do you think he’d really still be alive? I don’t.’

  Katyett couldn’t find a reply. Not long after, they walked back into the camp. The eyes of every Ynissul civilian and warrior were on them, as were those of the Al-Arynaar. The more astute paid particular attention to Auum and the hooded newcomer. TaiGethen were signalling to each other across the camp. Some began to move towards the corner of the covered area where Katyett had set up what passed for a command centre.

  ‘Merrat. There are Ynissul out there who need to prepare their people for reclamation. Help them but do it quickly. We need to plan.’

  The answer to Takaar’s question was in view from the camp. About a mile to the south and high in the sky. Katyett shuddered again. It still wasn’t an easy sight to ingest. She saw Pelyn point towards the mage. Takaar stopped just beneath the covered area and stared out. Katyett began to hurry when she saw him stretch out his arms and to run when he started to make motions like he was reeling in a rope.

  Takaar’s movements were so theatrical and dramatic that those nearest to him who could see him began to laugh, assuming a joke. But then his hood fell back and the effort on his face and the fury in his eyes stilled some of the laughter. And those with long memories, those who had escaped from Hausolis, began to wonder who it was in their midst. Some were putting the pieces together.

  ‘Tual’s balls,’ snapped Katyett. ‘Pelyn, get him away from the crowd.’

  Word was spreading faster than wind over long grass. People were standing, pointing, beginning to move. TaiGethen, at a signal from Katyett, got in the way. They formed a cordon, moving swiftly through their charges and obscuring Takaar from sight. Katyett stood square in front of him.

  ‘Is this your idea of a subtle entrance? What are you doing?’

  Takaar had dropped his arms to his sides but his eyes were alight with passion.

  ‘I can see what tethers him to the earth. It’s like a net of energy and he sits atop it. It’s what keeps him in the sky at the same time. It is so clear I can touch it. But I can’t drag him down. Some other power stops me.’

  Katyett glanced at Auum, who raised his eyebrows.

  ‘What can you see?’ she asked Takaar.

  ‘Colour and energy. The shape of the wings that balance him. It is beautiful.’

  ‘But you can’t break it. Can’t make him fall.’

  Takaar shook his head.

  ‘Shame,’ said Katyett. ‘And a shame that you’ve stirred up so much attention. I think your cover might be blown.’

  Takaar looked out past the cordon of TaiGethen at the sea of faces pushing towards them. His name was being bounced around. Questions were being asked. Katyett sensed confusion and aggression.

  ‘What do we do, announce him?’ asked Grafyrre. ‘This isn’t going to die down and we need to organise ourselves.’

  ‘Let me talk to them,’ said Takaar.

  His eyes were bright and fierce, just like at the Tul-Kenerit before . . .

  Katyett paused. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

  Takaar shook his head. ‘No. But it’ll irritate him if I stand up and speak to those I betrayed. He doesn’t think I possess the courage.’

  Katyett found herself looking at Auum for encouragement again. The young TaiGethen shrugged and cocked his head to the side. Why not? It was as good a reason as any on this strangest of days. Katyett dispersed the TaiGethen back into the crowd to spread word of an announcement.

  It was quickly done and almost every face was turned to the small party, expecting Katyett to speak. But it was not she who stepped forward. It was the most famous of them all. An ula from the pages of history.

  Chapter 36

  Do not follow me. Believe in me and then follow your heart.

  ‘Ynissul of Ysundeneth. Al-Arynaar of the threads of elves. TaiGethen, my brothers and sisters. Among you are those who have heard of me but not seen me. There are those who have seen me but do not know me. And there are those who fought by me and thought never to see me again. I failed you all as I failed the elven race.

  ‘I am Takaar.’

  Katyett had always felt that the phrase ‘heart in mouth’ was melodramatic and ridiculous. No longer. Her pulse thudded so hard in the back of her throat it was painful. The lump could not be swallowed and she thought to choke at every breath. She felt giddy and leant on Grafyrre for support, muttering prayer after prayer that this would not all go horribly wrong. Not for her sake. For him. Takaar. She found that she wanted him to be accepted. To be heard. Understood. Respected even. But not ridiculed. Not that, she prayed to Yniss. Anything but that.

  If Takaar had expected adulation or abhorrence at his unveiling, he was disappointed. There was a murmur through the crowd but nothing more. Takaar let it subside. Standing a pace behind him, Auum turned to Katyett and nodded his confidence. Takaar continued.

  ‘I am not here to ask for forgiveness or to seek redemption. Those things are rightly denied me. The blood of every elf of every thread who died when I fled the walls of the Tul-Kenerit is on my hands. Through ten years of exile it has not scrubbed away. It will remain there for ever. As it should.

  ‘So I am standing here not as a general or a leader but as an ordinary ula asking for your help in the fight to rid our country of men, to restore the harmony of the elves and to return us all to the lives we love. I wonder if you’ll listen to me.’

  Out in the crowd many nodded their heads. A few said ‘Yes’ and fewer still applauded, demanding more. Takaar inclined his head deferentially.

  ‘Thank you.’ He pointed up at the mage. ‘Up there, against all nature and Yniss himself, the eyes of man search for us. Beneath the canopy, they seek us. And in the city thousands of men of violence await the word to attack. Just as they await the word to slaughter helpless elves imprisoned in their own homes.

  ‘Inevitably, they will find this hiding place and then they will send out their mages with their castings and they will attempt to burn us and to flush us out onto the swords of their warriors. They want us all dead. You, me and the TaiGethen, who they rightly fear.’

  Consternation ran through the crowd. Katyett closed her eyes. Grafyrre drew in a sharp breath. But Takaar merely walked another pace forward and held up his hands.

  ‘Yes, we’re in trouble. But if we work together, we can get out of trouble. Some of us will die. Others will be wounded. Some will panic and flee. Such is the way. I know. But be assured, I do not expect you to take up swords against these men and their magic. That is the work of TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar. All I want you to do is this.

  ‘Listen to instructions. Question nothing. Move where you are asked as quickly as you are asked. Help those less able to help themselves. Carry wounded. Move water and food. Give courage to those who need it. Stand with your people against whatever comes at you. Because if you do, the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar will be able to face the enemy with strength and focus.

  ‘I—’

  Takaar stopped and stared out and up at the mage in the southern sky. He pointed vaguely and began to shake his head.

  ‘Oh no,’ breathed Auum. ‘He’s going to lose it right in front of them.’

  The crowd began to stir, many looking up at the mage, who was some way distant and no threat whatever. Others were pointing at Takaar, and more than one called for him to be helped. Auum ran over, stood in front of Takaar and looked at him. He paled visibly.

  ‘He needs help,’ said Auum. ‘Quickly.’

  Pelyn and Katyett both moved. Takaar pushed Auum away.

  ‘No.’ He turned and Katyett pulled up short, seeing the pallor of his face, the tremble in his lower lip and the red filling the whites of his eyes. Sweat covered his features and a vein pulsed in his temple. ‘It’s coming. The magic is coming. That mage is not searching. He’s watching.’

  ‘He’s—’ began Katyett.

  A deep-brown magical orb arced across the sky, trailing st
eam behind it. It hung at its apex for a moment, beguiling the crowd, which stared up, entranced. The orb began to fall.

  ‘Scatter!’ yelled Katyett. ‘Get under the canopy.’

  Iad and ula, screaming and shouting, scattered, looking for shelter, a way out, anything. The orb crashed through the broad leaves of trees high above them. It ploughed into the branch of a mighty banyan that acted as the outer stay of the bivouac and exploded into a thousand tears of fire as big as a fist. They showered down across the camp.

  Order disintegrated. Undergrowth, grass, leaf and branch were set ablaze. Elves were thrown to the ground, their flesh eaten in heartbeats by the voracious magical flames. Screams rose with the smoke and stench of burning. Ynissul ran blindly, pushing aside any who got in their path.

  Katyett turned to her people inside the bivouac. ‘Illast, see Olmaat to safety. Head for the river and go south. TaiGethen, to the hunt. Sikaant, you’ll be needed by the lost out there in the forest. Pelyn, run the flanks of the Ynissul - you’re the last defence they have. Find the men. Kill them.’

  TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar flowed out from under the bivouac, muttering prayers as they went, smearing their faces with brown and green paint. Katyett watched them help Ynissul from the ground, those that could be helped. She heard cries of fear and shouts for help. Dozens lay out there, dead or dying. Nothing to do for them now but pray for their souls to find the embrace of Shorth.

  More orbs filled the sky alongside the rain Katyett had seen falling over the city a few nights ago.

  ‘Yniss preserve us,’ said Grafyrre.

  An orb detonated on the roof of the bivouac. It ripped skin, timber and palm apart. Blew the moss of years to dust and sent the whole lot crashing down to the forest floor. To the rear of the bivouac, Katyett saw Illast and his Tai dive out with Olmaat on his stretcher, clinging on as he bumped and slid along the ground.

  Auum grabbed Katyett’s arm and dragged her out into the blazing camp. Roof supports thundered down in their wake. Fire fell around them. Orbs smashed through the thin canopy, splattering across the roofs of dormitories, immolating brush and torching the carpet of grass. Bodies were consumed where they fell.