Once walked with Gods e-1

by James Barclay

  ‘Perish the thought.’ Katyett smiled. ‘He’s as neutral as any slighted Tuali.’

  ‘I call to the debate, Jarinn, high priest of Yniss, keeper of the temple of Aryndeneth and defender of the memory of Takaar!’

  A storm of boos and jeers greeted Jarinn’s announcement. A classically tall Ynissul, he wore his black hair long and tied back with gold threads. His face was proud, an accident of birth, he always said, and his eyes, large angled ovals, were a beautiful blue. His robes were plain, as Yniss demanded. Brown, unadorned and without a hood. He went barefoot, a symbol of his trust in Yniss to keep him safe from harm. Katyett hoped his prayers had been particularly fervent this morning.

  Reaching the lectern, Jarinn looked square at the public. There may have been a slight shake of his head. He focused then on the lectern opposite him, ignoring the opportunity to appeal to the Speaker for protection from the abuse that rained on him. He did, however, pause to nod his thanks at those in the arc of seats who had stood to applaud him. It merely served to intensify the noise from the floor.

  ‘So where’s the public support?’ asked Grafyrre, when Helias belatedly raised his hands for quiet.

  ‘Jarinn advised Takaar’s followers to stay away,’ said Katyett and again she smiled. ‘Anyway, most of us are up here.’

  There were five Tai cells watching from the rafters. Quite an assembly of Yniss’s elite warriors. Five further cells were dispersed around the city, watching likely trouble spots should the denouncement be carried. Katyett needed to know the mood of the city quickly in the event Jarinn required a secure exit back to Aryndeneth.

  Below them, a rhythmic thumping and stamping had begun. A powerful sound reminiscent of ancient battles, the prelude to chant and dirge. Katyett let the reverberations roll over her, taking her back to a time before the harmony, before Takaar’s law.

  ‘I call to the debate-’ began Helias.

  The voices of the public grew from a bass rumble to a thundering, battering shout.

  ‘Lor-i-us, Lor-i-us, LOR-I-US!’

  Over and over. Helias held up his hands for quiet but he saw he was going to get nowhere. Katyett could just hear him over the tumult, his voice rising into the rafters.

  ‘I call to the debate, Lorius, high priest of Tual, keeper of the temple at Tul-Kastarin and denouncer of Takaar!’

  The rhythmic chanting and stamping gave way to a frenzy of adulation. Some ran towards the front of the stage. Al-Arynaar guards blocked any further advance. Fists punched the air, heat and tension rose. Grafyrre blew out his cheeks. Katyett knew how he felt.

  Lorius rose, meandered more like, to his feet. Lorius was old. Very old for a Tuali. He predated the resetting of the calendar to record the harmony. The years of peace. A shame that his memories of the times before the harmony were so confused.

  Lorius moved with agonising slowness to his lectern. He spread his papers and studied them for a time before lifting his head to gaze out over the floor of the chamber. His face was deeply lined, his eyes still blazed with hazel passion and his chin, which trembled slightly, still held a few wisps of the huge beard he had once boasted.

  He tipped back his hood to reveal a bald dark-spotted head and ears whose points had sagged outwards. Lorius held up his hands and the tumult stilled on an instant. He nodded his thanks.

  ‘Dark days are upon us,’ he said, his voice phlegm-filled and hoarse. ‘Dark forces move beneath the veneer of benevolence.’

  ‘Pompous idiot,’ muttered Katyett.

  ‘It is a creeping disease that threatens us and all we have built. Most are unaware it is happening, yet the evidence is all around us, plain to see for those who choose to look. A tragedy will overcome us unless we act now.’

  Theatrical boos rang out from all corners of the public areas. Lorius held up his hands again. Jarinn shook his head.

  ‘Yes, and the tragedy is this. Takaar and all his grand ideas, his harmony, all his deeds. A sham. All of it. A sham!’

  ‘How can a thousand years of peace be a sham?’ shouted Jarinn before the yells of the crowd drowned out anything more.

  The sound of a gong echoed out over the Gardaryn. The Speaker had called for order. The gongs were hung in frames to the left and right of the stage. Ula with beaters as long as their arms stood ready for the Speaker’s order. The echoing tone rolled out over the Gardaryn, quietening the crowd. Mob.

  ‘I will have decorum in this chamber. The public will refrain from drowning out the debate,’ said Helias before looking square at Jarinn. ‘And High Priest Jarinn will await his turn to make his opening remarks.’

  The crowd exploded into noise, cheers, jeers and a concerted wagging of fingers at Jarinn. The high priest spread his hands and shrugged, playing the villain for the moment but only drawing more abuse. Lorius quietened the crowd again.

  ‘Thank you, Helias. I am not telling any of you anything you don’t already know. We all believed Takaar’s words. We all believed the myth of the harmony of the elves. And why is it a myth? I’ll tell you why and it is two-fold. First.’

  And the finger he held up was mimicked by thousands on the floor.

  ‘Takaar may have begun with pure ideals but what happened when his own life and those of his Ynissul brothers were threatened? He ran like the dog coward that he is. He ran to the gateway, his acolytes trailing in his wake. And through it he dived, consigning a hundred thousand elves to death. So much for the harmony on that day. So much for the harmony on that day!’

  You had to hand it to Lorius: he didn’t shrink from milking a volatile crowd. Katyett scanned the faces that she could see. Puffed up with anger and righteous indignation. Looking for an outlet for the fury they felt and finding it at the lectern opposite their hero. The vocal barrage that flew at Jarinn was truly shocking. And Helias stood by and watched it. For his part, Jarinn kept his face carefully neutral.

  ‘Second!’ thundered Lorius and a forest of V-signs shot into the air to accompanying cheers. ‘Just what is it we have seen in the decade since Takaar appeared through the gate from Hausolis and fled into the forest as it collapsed behind him? Have we seen the returning Ynissul working like slaves to maintain the harmony their coward imposed upon us?’

  Lorius paused. The public hushed. ‘Let me take you back in history just for a moment. There have been elves living here in the rainforest for over a thousand years. All of us faithfully following Takaar’s harmony, Takaar’s law. And there are none among us – few enough that remember the first days here – who would deny that it worked. And, Tual knows, we needed to live in peace with the challenges that we faced here.

  ‘All threads pulled together to make sure we not only survived but thrived. The Ynissul too.’

  Boos and jeers stalled his speech, and for the first time Lorius displayed anger. He moved from behind his lectern and faced the crowd full on. For a moment, Katyett wondered if he’d dropped them as easily as he’d caught them. There he stood, an ula alone in front of a hooting mob that paid him no attention. For a second time, though, she had to admit a grudging respect.

  Not for a heartbeat did his expression change. Nor did he gesture for calm or let his eye move away from the scene in front of him. And slowly, slowly they quietened, realising perhaps that their show had ceased and their principal actor had walked from the stage.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lorius quietly. And he returned to his lectern, daring them to begin again. ‘Why do you jeer at the truth? Perhaps your memories are short. The Ynissul were instrumental in the success of the harmony and High Priest Jarinn a central figure in that success. Jeer now if you don’t believe me.’

  Silence. Almost. Merrat chuckled.

  ‘Good, isn’t he?’

  ‘Very,’ said Katyett. ‘And just look at the space he’s created for whatever lie is coming next.’

  ‘So why is it that we stand here now knowing that our people are unhappy? That they feel undermined? That tension grows by the day and knowing that there have been incidents of vio
lence between threads. A dark place we thought never to revisit. The answer is as simple as it is tragic.

  ‘In the wake of Takaar’s abject failure, the Ynissul, bolstered by the return of so many with him – mysterious when brother and sister threads suffered so badly – have set about reinstalling themselves as the dominant thread.’

  Now the boos began again and Lorius nodded.

  ‘Yes. Yes. Across our land, they take charge. The Amllans of Ysundeneth, Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine?’

  ‘YNISSUL!’

  ‘The high priest of Shorth?’

  ‘YNISSUL!’

  ‘The Lord of the Fleet?’

  ‘YNISSUL!’

  Lorius spread his hands and let the applause grow. He wagged a finger when it was at its height and began again.

  ‘I could go on.’ He snatched up a sheaf of papers. ‘From judges to landowners, civil servants to the keepers of the exchequer, Ynissul are everywhere. And while the Lord of the Al-Arynaar might be a Tuali, her love for Takaar renders her Ynissul in all but name. The insidious, growing influence is everywhere. Even up there in the rafters!’

  Every face swung up to sneer at the TaiGethen high above the floor. Missiles were thrown, mainly fruit. The TaiGethen in the rafters swayed and dodged economically, catching much that reached them, Merrat cocked her arm, a hard, unripe mango in her fist.

  ‘No,’ said Katyett. ‘Or at least, not yet.’

  ‘Look at them.’ Lorius continued the taunt. ‘Like monkeys swinging from the branches of a banyan, too fearful to put their feet on the ground lest we see the deception in their eyes. Too haughty to nestle among their brothers in case we should give them something unmentionable. And do they, our oh-so-glorious immortals, do they hide up there to protect us all from harm? To police thread unity? I think not. Every TaiGethen is an Ynissul. EVERY SINGLE ONE! And there they sit, waiting for the call to defend their own and only their own.

  ‘Takaar is the reason the Ynissul alone refuse to interbreed. They use Takaar’s law against us. Why is every position of power being eaten up by the Ynissul? Same reason. Takaar’s law. The law that demands that the holder of any position of authority must be given to the brother or sister best able to enhance the harmony. Takaar’s harmony!

  ‘The harmony that meant a hundred thousand non-Ynissul died. The harmony that would enslave us all again beneath the heel of the Ynissul. We must free ourselves before it is too late. We must live the harmony as it was first conceived. Before it was perverted as a weapon to oppress our lesser, mortal souls.’

  The crowd’s anger and volume intensified and increased with every phrase, every punch of the air.

  ‘Before the true harmony is destroyed we must claim back the life we enjoyed before Takaar failed us all. I say to hell with Takaar’s law! I say rip it from the statute. I denounce Takaar for the coward he is. I denounce all that he stands for and I say wipe the slate clean of his influence. I denounce Takaar. Vote with me!’

  Chapter 6

  Yniss is perfect. Those who follow him, not so. Haleth took a long swallow of the leaf and root infusion Sildaan had ordered made for him by one of the cowed and fearful temple workers. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. It started off bitter but had a sweet aftertaste. Mind you, it could have tasted like fox shit and he’d have drunk the lot for the promise of an end to the burrowing insects and their eggs in his flesh.

  He had run onto the temple grounds mid-afternoon, exultant to be alive but with an anger at his treatment that burned bright.

  ‘You left us for target practice,’ he said, handing back the clay mug. ‘No guide and just the sun to lead us. I still can’t believe I’m still alive. Even less that I made it here. It was a slaughter out there. Why did you split us up?’

  Sildaan passed the mug to a worker. At least she had the good grace to look apologetic. Mostly, the sharp-ears didn’t give anything away so it had to mean something.

  ‘I spilt us up to draw the sentry TaiGethen cell away from you. It seems to have worked.’ She shook her head. ‘You ran into a Silent Priest, didn’t you? It’s the only explanation.’

  Haleth nodded. ‘Right. One with the white face and his bodyguard. And I’m looking at corpses everywhere. Anyone else make it here?’

  Next to Sildaan, Garan sighed. ‘Not so far.’

  ‘And they won’t,’ said Sildaan. ‘Sorry. This is most unfortunate.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Haleth. ‘I’ll say it’s unfortunate. We’ve lost almost half our force. Two mages as well. It was a big mistake coming here first. We should have gone straight for Ysundeneth with the main force. That’s where the power lies.’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling the shots,’ said Sildaan. ‘You don’t understand the elven mind. All we are is the rainforest. It is where we truly live. The cities cover less than one half of one per cent of Calaius. They might be our marketplaces and our seat of government but our soul is here. And it is secure.

  ‘If we’re to truly remove the harmony, return to the right order of things, we have to undermine that security. Taking the temple will do that. Because those that hear about it will take the message to their homes and beyond, that the TaiGethen could not defend Aryndeneth. It is a blow to the heart. But it will take time for the message to spread.’

  ‘You want to make them mistrust the TaiGethen?’

  ‘They have a mystique and it needs to be torn aside. And they all still follow Takaar’s way. They have to be beaten, and that happens as much in the mind as it does with the blade and your magic. Trust me. This was the right thing to do. I am sorry you lost some of your people. We need every one but we have to expect some to die.’ Sildaan gave a half shrug. ‘It’s dangerous here.’

  ‘Oh, you noticed.’

  ‘At least you’re still alive, Haleth,’ said Garan, but he was frowning. ‘Sildaan, perhaps you’d like to tell us why that is? I didn’t realise the TaiGethen were so careless.’

  ‘They aren’t,’ said Sildaan.

  Haleth felt a chill despite the stultifying heat outside the temple.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning they let you go,’ said Sildaan.

  Haleth’s gaze flicked to the forest that pressed in on all sides. It could be hiding an army. His mouth was dry and the terrified screams of his men echoed about his head again.

  ‘So they’ll be coming here,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sildaan. ‘But not immediately.’

  ‘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 f
ace 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.