Elves: Once Walked With Gods

by James Barclay

  Estok looked square at Takaar.

  ‘It’s madness,’ he said. Takaar was not paying them any attention whatever. He was rubbing at his chin and muttering under his breath. ‘Is that really the salvation of the elves?’

  Katyett stared at Takaar, and Estok’s words sank true into her belly. Takaar was at war with himself again. Every eye was on him but he did not notice. She caught snatches of what he was saying. His responses to what he heard in his head were those of someone desperately trying not to be undermined, and failing.

  ‘I would speak.’

  Katyett felt blessed relief.

  ‘Auum. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Estok, I hear you,’ said Auum, choosing to speak formally. ‘And it seems that Estok speaks for most of you. I hear you too. Now you hear me. Takaar has saved my life. He has also tried to take it. He is not the ula who stood with many of us on the walls of the Tul-Kenerit.

  ‘Takaar has faced what he did and what he is. He lives with it every moment, waking or asleep. You do not trust him. He does not expect your trust. You do not love him. He does not expect your love. Nor your forgiveness. But think on this. Takaar once walked with gods and now he is reduced to the most vilified of elves.

  ‘Yet still he returned. Ask yourself about the scale of strength and resolve it takes to come and face the judgement of your people. Ask yourself why he has chosen to do this. Not for himself. Not for redemption. Ask him. He doesn’t believe he deserves that either. But from his exile at the Verendii Tual he felt the shivering of the harmony. And his belief in its endurance overcame any fear he kept for himself.

  ‘Takaar is here for you. For every ula and iad that wants to drag us back from the nightmare into which we are descending. He might fail. So might we all. But does not every elf deserve a second chance?’

  Katyett waited for Auum’s words to settle before she spoke.

  ‘Tais. We hunt.’

  Silent Priest Sikaant saw her sitting with her back to a tree and hugging her knees to her. He saw the blood on her hands and on her face. The body of the man was close. His throat was ripped open, a gory, bloody mess. He had died in terror and agony. Shorth would see his torment continued for eternity.

  Sikaant crouched in front of her.

  ‘I’ve lost my Rydd,’ she said.

  Sikaant held out a hand. ‘Let us find him together.’

  The iad took his hand and he felt an energy surge through her fingers and encase his body. Brief like a spear of lightning.

  ‘Something has happened to me,’ she said.

  ‘Yniss blesses you,’ said Sikaant.

  He had felt this energy before but through his feet, never from within another elf. The iad shrank back, something behind him making her fearful. Sikaant turned where he crouched. It was another of the Silent. Resserrak. He had been a long while hidden in the rainforest and Sikaant could see why Onelle would fear him.

  Only half of his face was white. The other half was covered in tattoos, as was much of his body. Words from the Aryn Hiil that he would never speak. His nose and ears were pierced with bone. His eyes were wide and wild. Resserrak had always been closer to Tual’s denizens than any other of the Silent. Now it appeared the transition was almost complete. Sikaant rose and the two priests kissed each other’s eyes and foreheads. Behind Sikaant, the iad had summoned the courage to stand.

  ‘I am Onelle. Please. I want to find my Rydd. Will you help me?’

  Resserrak looked at her and Sikaant knew he could see it too.

  ‘We are changing,’ said Resserrak, his voice hoarse and quiet. ‘Serrin knows.’

  Sikaant smiled. ‘Growing. Come, Onelle. We will find Rydd. We will find all the lost.’

  There were guards on the Ultan bridge. Ten of them and three mages. The bridge was a beacon of light. Lanterns hung from every hook. Torches burned at each main pile. The guards and their mages seemed relaxed. No doubt they were basking in the success of their raid on the staging camp. No doubt they felt their wards would save them from the TaiGethen gathering just beyond the light.

  Takaar surveyed what the mages had done. Pale grey globes of essence sitting on the ground. Shifting and swirling, occasionally sending out sparks of brown and green light that connected one to another. There were eight of them in front of the bridge. Placed such that no one could possibly approach without stepping on at least one and so triggering all of them. He didn’t know what the casting would be but walls of fire had been favoured, so he’d been told.

  There were others too. Placed along the rails of the bridge. The humans were not keen to repeat the error of a few nights past. Unfortunately for them, they had no knowledge of Takaar’s gift. And they would die having none.

  ‘We can avoid them,’ said Takaar. ‘They are laid across the width of the bridge and ten paces towards us. They are on the rails for the first fifteen paces.’

  ‘Good. Tais to me. Now is the time for any last questions. Speak freely.’

  Takaar approved of the targets and the number of cells at each. Five cells led by Estok would attack the harbourside, where the humans stockpiled their supplies and where a diversion would have the greatest effect. Ten cells would move to encircle the temple piazza. Five, led by Katyett and including Takaar, would raid Shorth, where it was believed Garan, leader of the human soldiers, was stationed. There were four other cells and two single TaiGethen whose cells had perished in the attack at the camp. These were to keep the barracks under observation and run messages between Estok and Katyett.

  ‘You’re sure this Garan is big enough bait?’ Marack addressed herself to Auum.

  Auum nodded ‘He’s the leader of the men. Of the soldiers at any rate. He was the only one Sildaan spoke to and he was the one leading the men Serrin and I killed in the forest. We don’t know who came in on the second wave of ships. He’s the only target we know.’

  ‘Good enough,’ said Katyett. ‘Marack, he’s yours, but you can always take more than one hostage should others present themselves to you. Anything more?’

  Marack shook her head.

  ‘We’re clear. We’re keeping it simple. No one takes down Llyron or any cascarg. This is in and out.’ She looked meaningfully at Estok. ‘None of us can afford to stay too long.’

  ‘We shouldn’t leave innocents locked up and vulnerable,’ said Estok.

  ‘Estok,’ said Katyett, and Auum felt the chill in her voice. ‘We have been through this. The balance is right. Keep in mind what we are trying to do, what we must do. Hit your target and get out. We need negotiating power and proof we can attack at will.’

  Estok nodded, but Auum could see he was not satisfied. Takaar looked at him, his eyes dark, his brow deep with a frown.

  ‘We must all follow the orders of our leaders. Else all we have is chaos. And when chaos leads, elves die.’

  Estok’s eyes flashed anger and he opened his mouth to retort. Auum tensed. Takaar merely smiled, though Auum saw the slight tremble in his hands.

  ‘That you care is what makes you TaiGethen. I am proud of your anger.’

  All the wind was taken from Estok’s sails. He sagged visibly.

  ‘It shames me,’ he said.

  ‘There is only one of us here who need carry shame,’ whispered Takaar.

  An uneasy atmosphere grew in the wake of his words. He could feel it like he could feel the pull of the magic laid in front of them at the bridge

  Let them sweat. Let them see the real you. Indecisive. Reluctant. Craven.

  ‘There is beauty in this magic,’ said Takaar, screwing his eyes shut to banish his tormentor. ‘A perfect, pure way to die. Like there is beauty in the taipan strike and the sweat of a yellow back.’

  ‘But can you tame it?’ whispered Marack.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Takaar. ‘Not yet, anyway. I have too much to learn.’

  ‘We should make a statement,’ said Katyett.

  ‘I agree,’ said Takaar.

  He stared at Katyett like he found himself doing a good deal
when his tormentor was quiet. Strong, beautiful, faithful. She felt his gaze and turned. He didn’t flinch though her eyes held all the regret of a decade gone by.

  ‘What?’ she asked. ‘That look always has some dreadful words of wisdom in close pursuit.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

  ‘That doesn’t scratch the surface of the last ten years,’ said Katyett.

  ‘I was talking about you.’

  ‘So was I. Thank you for trying, anyway.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Never could understand her, could you? Always one step behind. Poor Takaar. ‘No I’m not. I don’t feel sorry for myself.’

  ‘What?’ Katyett’s eyes rose and her expression hardened. ‘We don’t have time for this. Let’s move. All of us. Forward. If a mage makes to cast, scatter back. Follow Takaar. Do not step in front of him. Do not tread where he does not. Watch. Copy. Live.’

  ‘This is some of my best work, actually,’ said Poradz, feigning a hurt tone. ‘Ystormun himself could do no better.’

  ‘Since your best work so far has been fixing that rodent problem out in the Triverne slums, that doesn’t necessarily fill me with confidence. ’

  ‘The trouble with you, Dagesh, is that you don’t know artistry when you see it.’

  ‘I don’t see bloody anything. Can’t see the wards can I? Not a mage, am I?’

  Poradz smiled. Dagesh was funny when he was in this mood. The mock belligerence. Any luck and they’d be treated to his impersonation of Garan before long.

  ‘Ah, my poor blind friend. Such a world is forever closed to you and you are left having to trust me, the poor feeble mage.’

  ‘Where the fuck did they all come from?’ Dagesh was pointing out towards the rainforest and its diabolical noise. ‘Gather round, lads, we’ve got company. Get some shields up, would you, Adzo?’

  Poradz followed Dagesh’s outstretched arm and flinched like he’d seen a ghost. Standing just inside the cast of the lanterns and torches, not close enough to trip his wards, were those damned painted elves. They made him shudder. He’d not seen them fight but he’d heard what others said. Nasty.

  ‘Jylan, a shield, please.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  The guards gathered around Dagesh a few yards from the end of the bridge. The elves clustered behind one of their number who looked a bit of a mess in all honesty. Like someone had shaved him with the jaw of a dog. There was something about him though, something knowing that Poradz didn’t like at all.

  They just stared, not making a sound or a gesture. Their eyes didn’t blink. Poradz could feel the cold aggression rising from them. An intent that was hard to deny even though he knew they’d never get across the bridge.

  ‘What are they doing?’ asked Hadran, booming voice echoing off the river rapids underneath them.

  ‘I’m thinking they’re not so clever,’ said Dagesh. He wandered down a couple of paces and beckoned to them. ‘Come and join us. Plenty of room up here. Bit early for you to be surrendering. Perhaps your timekeeping is lacking, eh? Dawn’s that bit when the sun comes up. Fucking sharp-eared savages. Not a fucking clue.’

  Behind him they all laughed. Dagesh spat towards them and turned, a broad smile on his face. Unseen by him, the elves melted back into the night, silent and smooth.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Poradz.

  ‘Buggered if I know,’ said Dagesh. He came and stood beside Poradz and the two of them looked out into the night. ‘Who’s to know the mind of a—’

  The scruffy-looking one was coming through the air. Poradz watched him bring his body into a tight tuck and turn two somersaults before landing on the balls of his feet not a yard from them. His blade was out in the next breath and before Dagesh’s shouts had registered on the rest. Before Dagesh’s blade was drawn, the elf had stuck him straight in the heart and torn a big gash in his chin.

  Poradz felt hot blood spray on his face. He cried out and staggered back. More and more of them were leaping onto the bridge. Huge jumps. Clearing his wards easily. Part of him admired the grace with which they moved. Most of him was too terrified to pull the shape of a spell together to help himself or anyone.

  He could already hear some of his comrades running. Poradz backed away. One of the elves approached him, quick, like he was gliding. Poradz felt an impact to his temple. Another to his gut. And one of exquisite pain that broke his left knee. He screamed and fell, tried to scrabble away.

  The rest were all running but the elves were so fast. Poradz saw his comrades engulfed. Cut down. The sheer speed of the elves’ limbs when they struck registered in his agonised mind. They barely paused in their stride either. Like a dance. Poradz stopped trying to move. His knee was a sheet of pain and he thought he was going to throw up.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder and threw him over onto his back. The scruffy one was looking down at him, curious, like a predator seeing new prey for the first time. Poradz shuddered at the gaze. There was intelligence there but something else too. Like bits of his mind were elsewhere and he couldn’t stare with the whole of both eyes.

  The elf spoke. Poradz hadn’t bothered learning elvish and didn’t catch a word of it. The elf put a hand on his head, the other on his chest. The elf breathed in deep and nodded. He said something more, nodded again and walked away. Another elf took his place.

  This one had blood-slick blades in her hands.

  Estok took his cells left to head away through the yards and round the marsh, meaning to track the coast all the way to the dockside. With him went two of the reserve cells. The other reserve cells moved along the main road before disappearing into the back streets to come to their starting positions.

  Katyett led the main force across the dark fields, where the grain grew tall and dense. Takaar was ahead of them all, ensuring their path was safe. Where the stems thinned before the first buildings of Frey-Ultan, the district dominated by farmers and farm workers, they could see the four columns of smoke that signified the occupation of Shorth by its high priest.

  Katyett wondered if Llyron remained free or was languishing in one of the cells below the temple. Those reserved for the elves of mixed thread for assessment of their suitability or otherwise for service. Maybe she was dead. Somehow Katyett doubted that. Llyron would not have been slow to point out that, without a high priest of Shorth, no order would remain among the elves. Humans didn’t want riots; they wanted subservience.

  The temple piazza bordered the rainforest at the south-eastern edge of the city. It was protected from the forest’s lust for expansion by the River Ix, which plunged through a sheer cleft in the earth that ran for two miles, upstream to the borders of the Olbeck Rise and downstream to the rapids at the Ultan bridge. It had a crossing, known as the Senserii Approach. This was a grand wooden structure, beloved of pilgrims because it was the most direct route to the piazza from the canopy.

  Myth held that the first Senserii, or those who became the first Senserii, had used it to escape persecution in their villages and towns deep inside the forest, taking sanctuary in Shorth as was their right. It made a good story, but Katyett preferred to believe that the first Senserii had been the results of mixed unions in the slums of Banyan and Valemire in the west of the city and been dumped at Shorth unwanted and unloved.

  ‘I wonder what’s happened to them?’ she said.

  ‘Who?’ asked Grafyrre.

  ‘The Senserii,’ she said.

  They were moving through the fringes of the grain fields, their passage barely moving a stalk. Takaar had slowed dramatically. Katyett trilled a warning, using the sound of a common swift. Behind her, the TaiGethen stopped.

  ‘We could do with them right now,’ said Grafyrre.

  ‘Not if they remain loyal to Llyron,’ said Katyett.

  ‘They will have had little choice despite what Pelyn thinks,’ said Merrat.

  They moved up to Takaar’s shoulder where he was crouched with Marack and Auum. Katyett could almost taste the unease of her people
behind her. The mistrust of their former Arch. But this time Takaar wasn’t muttering. Katyett waved her Tai to crouch. The walls of the temple of Orra were close. Twenty paces across open ground and a drainage channel. Takaar spoke.

  ‘They have set their castings right along the boundary and across the entire span of the bridge on the outside of the rails. They are all over the walls and probably on the roofs of Appos, Orra and Gyal. Cefu too. I can’t see anything around Shorth. We’re too distant.’

  ‘Can we jump them? Weave through them?’ asked Katyett.

  ‘Not this time. They’re too well placed. I suspect they’ve withdrawn any guard to the central lawns and are using the castings as early warnings.’

  ‘So where’s our way in?’ asked Katyett.

  ‘We’re going to have to go straight up the Path of Yniss,’ said Takaar.

  ‘That’s going to make silent approach a little tricky. Why not the other side of the piazza?’

  ‘You think it’ll be any different?’

  Katyett stared at Takaar. ‘Wait for Estok to get going. Then we move.’

  Chapter 38

  Move yourself away from the ula who tells you he is not frightened of battle.

  Corsaar peered over the apex of a pitched roof directly opposite the Al-Arynaar barracks. His heart was racing. It had led him to send his two spare TaiGethen to warn Estok to stall his attack if they could get to him in time.

  ‘This can’t be right,’ he whispered. ‘What are they doing?’

  Hundreds of men crowded the barracks training grounds. Lights burned in every window. Corsaar could see warriors drilling and mages working with small squads of swordsmen, practising. Looking down the hill, along the Path of Yniss, he could see lines of lights. Hundreds, thousands of torches.

  The lights stretched right down to the harbour and turned corners into every quarter of the city. Corsaar could see the glow of lights rising above the rooftops. And there were soldiers lining the roads under the torches. The elves had known the city would be under curfew but this was something more.