Llyron held up her hands for quiet, the only Ynissul who could walk unhindered in Ysundeneth, let alone issue orders that would be obeyed.
‘Shorth’s blessing be upon you all, denizens and worshippers of Tual. My temple is open and welcoming to all at these times of conflict and anger. I am desolate for the pain unleashed by the denouncement of Takaar and pray hourly for its swift and peaceful resolution. Resolution I feel is close, though I doubt any of you can see it. And I bring to you a gift as night gives way to dawn and Shorth gazes down with relief on those still walking our land. While he rests, I of course may not.
‘Shorth blesses every thread, and in his temple all are equal and loved. Shorth takes to his embrace the souls of all who fall, the good and the wicked. It is he who judges the dead. And it is I who must judge those who defy the will of Shorth. Such defiance has been shown by Pelyn, Arch of the Al-Arynaar.
‘And, as is allowed under my powers, I hand her back to you, her people, to dispense the justice you see fit for heresy, for traitorous actions against her own thread and for the simple murder of those merely wanting food for the bellies of their children.’
Pelyn barked a laugh. ‘She will betray you! She is in the thrall of men. She-’
The foot of a staff slammed into her gut, doubling her over. Her minders kept her standing.
‘She ordered Lorius’s murder. She is the cascarg. Please.’
The driver’s fist took her full in the mouth, splitting her lip. The crowd cheered. Llyron raised her arms and cocked a smile at them.
‘Defiant to the end, eh? Now, where is the leader among you? Pelyn will be handed only to a recognised authority.’
The crowd quietened. Elves looked over their shoulders. A gap was made and one stepped forwards. Pelyn stared at the face of her executioner.
Helias, Speaker of the Gardaryn. Less than a mile into the rainforest and the complaints had reached such a pitch that Katyett called a halt to the march, which had only ever been slow to grinding. She tried to sympathise with them. She tried hard. But walking up and down the ridiculously long, straggling column of the unready, the unfit and the frankly unworthy, she could see the damage to her forest increasing and the will of her charges bleeding away like a slash to the jugular.
‘Graf. Give the order to make comfortable. Or as far as possible anyway.’
Katyett turned at a muttered curse and saw a couple cling to each other as one stumbled over a root. The ula’s face was swollen and deep bruising was coming out across his cheeks and neck. His nose had been comprehensively smashed and had been field-reset by one of the TaiGethen. The iad was crying quietly, had bruising all around her neck that looked like an attempted strangulation and a bleak look in her eyes from a memory that would never fade.
She knelt beside them as they flopped to the ground, supporting each other with the desperation of those who know they have absolutely nothing else left. At the sight of her so close, painted and camouflaged, the iad flinched away reflexively. Katyett’s heart missed a beat.
‘You never have to be scared of me,’ she whispered. ‘I am here to protect you. And I promise you this too. As Yniss is my lord and my life, when this is over, you will never have to fear anyone ever again.’
‘But why out here?’ asked the ula. ‘She has suffered so much. Now you’re asking us to walk through the rainforest for days. Is there really nowhere else safe other than Aryndeneth?’
‘Trust me,’ said Katyett. ‘All will become clear to you. I am sorry for every reluctant footstep you have to take because it is not your fault. But we have to ensure your safety. We have to ensure no one can get to you again to do you harm.’
Katyett leant towards the iad and drew a piece of clean cloth from a pocket. The iad took it to dab at her nose, which was bleeding a little.
‘Thank you.’
‘The TaiGethen hunt those who seek to destroy all we have built. Those who do not belong and those who would take us back to the War of Bloods. This we do in Yniss’s name.’
‘I don’t want you to kill for me,’ said the iad.
Katyett gazed at her. Humble and ordinary. Dressed in clothes from the rag and make market and with hands that had only ever held a quill, never a spade or a weapon. Inside, though, she was pure-bred Ynissul.
‘Yniss guides my soul, Tual my hands. We do what we must.’
‘You enjoy it,’ said the iad. ‘Don’t you? The TaiGethen way. Killing to make things right.’
Katyett frowned. ‘I enjoy the beauty of the rainforest and I enjoy the honour of being TaiGethen. Enjoy killing? No. But our enemies leave us no choice. And they learn that though I might not enjoy it, I am very, very good at it.’
The two iads shared a brief smile. Katyett kissed the other’s eyes before trotting away to the head of the column, whispering through the dense undergrowth. It began to rain. Hard. Thunder cracked across the sky
‘Now that, Gyal, is poor timing.’
Her Tais were trying to help any they could. They fielded questions and begged for patience. Katyett brushed past them all and found Pakiir kneeling next to Olmaat. Merrat was close and Katyett whistled her over. They dropped into the patter of the TaiGethen. Part ancient tongue, part click and chitter borrowed from Tual’s finest.
‘We’ve come far enough. Look at the damage they’ve done,’ said Katyett. ‘Merrat, what of the Ultan?’
‘We aren’t followed. All of them returned to the city.’
Katyett nodded. ‘Good. And are we sure our mark has slipped away already?’
Pakiir chuckled. ‘Barely lasted two hundred yards.’
‘Good. And the first cascarg? The one asking all the questions at the Ultan?’
Merrat raised her eyebrows. Katyett nodded again.
‘Good. All is well. Opinions. Are we clear to turn this walking disaster area around and get it to the staging camp?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Pakiir.
‘I think they’ve suffered enough,’ said Olmaat.
‘I agree,’ said Merrat.
Katyett smiled. ‘Maybe not quite enough. Let’s make it a lazy left turn, shall we?’
‘You are a cruel mistress,’ said Olmaat, coughing violently as he thought to laugh.
‘Calm yourself, my brother. And I don’t mean it. The iads in particular need some sort of security. Let’s not waste time. And let’s not tell them what’s happening. Not just yet. See if anyone else needs flushing out before we get there.’
‘How far away are we?’ asked Olmaat.
‘Well, we’ve been heading in a nice gentle circle ever since we left the Ultan,’ said Merrat. ‘We’re about four hundred yards away, I should think.’
Olmaat managed a pained smile, it cracked his drying salve.
‘Want me to lead the way?’ Helias waited until Llyron and her acolytes had disappeared back across the market and away towards the Mural before so much as looking at Pelyn. She’d been laid on the ground and the Tuali had circled her in almost total silence, like a pack of animals awaiting the pack leader to make the first bite. The silence was unnerving. Pelyn had tried to speak but sharp kicks and jabs with staves and clubs cut short any attempt to get through.
When the last echoes of the wheels had faded, Helias walked into the circle and stood at Pelyn’s feet, blade in his hand. He gazed down at her and she met it, unflinching.
To flinch is to die.
Helias had not suffered too badly as a result of the fracturing of elven society in Ysundeneth. His clothing was fine and clean. His chin was shaven and his hair newly washed and tied back in a ponytail that he had draped over his left shoulder. Rumours of shortages of water had clearly not been entirely accurate as far as he was concerned. Or perhaps the Tuali had control of the wells and feeds. Most likely they did.
Pelyn tried to see inside him to the ula she knew very well and who had often been vocal in his support for her. The Al-Arynaar had replaced the civil peacekeepers very soon after Takaar’s flight and the closure of the gat
e. They were unpopular in some quarters, naturally. Helias had been right behind them.
But now, of course, the Al-Arynaar were the created arm of a discredited hero. The police of a society that no longer existed. And Helias was nothing if not a fine judge of mood and the direction of the wind. What Pelyn saw in his eyes was contempt because that was what his new-found acolytes expected to see. Pelyn wondered if there was something more behind that.
‘Well, this is a rather interesting surprise. Pelyn. Cascarg of Shorth. Apparently. Not sure I believe that. But there are things I do believe. Fervently.’
Helias edged his blade under the first of the ropes binding her. The rope was neither particularly thick nor particularly strong. Helias jerked his blade up. The rope sheared to cheers from the assembled Tuali.
‘I believe in the right of the Tuali to be the masters of their own fate within the race of elves. Not to touch earth to the Ynissul.’
His blade snagged the second band. Cut it.
‘I believe that those who supported the Ynissul in their efforts to regain dominion of the elves deserve nothing but the eternal hatred of the thread into which they were born.’
And then to the third band. Cut it.
‘I believe that Takaar’s harmony was a millennium-long sham. An apology for the subjugation of every other thread by the Ynissul and a cloak for its continuance under the murderous iron fist of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar.’
And so to the final band. Cut.
‘And I believe that those Tualis who would carry Ynissul children are not merely efra. They are unfit for life.’
The mob around Helias howled their agreement. Elves closed in, shutting out the pale light of dawn that had just begun to edge out the night. Helias crouched down next to Pelyn’s head and put his face very close to hers. She could smell the sweat on his clothes and the coarse alcohol on his breath. She was baking hot inside the cloak and Helias’s sour breath wasn’t helping her growing feeling of nausea. She found she wasn’t scared. Frustrated. The only thing she feared was not being allowed to speak. That would be a disaster for all those who stood about her, baying for her blood.
‘I know what you are,’ he hissed into her ear. ‘And I know what you believe I am. But I am not so ignorant. And what you would tell us, I do not wish my brothers and sisters to hear.’
Pelyn could barely focus on his face but she could see the unpleasant grin on it.
‘What?’ he said. ‘You think an ula should not look after himself first? Please.’
‘You always were a snake, Helias.’
‘I can live with it. I can’t say the same for you.’
Pelyn was going to die. The certainty pained her and she let her head fall back to the ground. Helias got to his knees, sheathed his short blade and took out a knife.
‘Let us see, shall we, what is inside this pod. Let us feast on the Al-Arynaar uncloaked.’ Helias’s leered down at her. ‘I know the rules of the pod. And you always hid yourself from me. Such a shame, my pretty. Such a shame.’
Helias drew the knife down the length of her cloak. The stitching sliced easily and her covering fell aside.
Pelyn smiled. ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘You really should be more careful what you expose.’
Pelyn sat up fast and her left fist made an intensely satisfying connection with his chin.
Chapter 21
The general you serve cannot save your life in battle. Only those who stand beside you can do that. Takaar felt at his smooth scalp again. There were a few scratches. And his chin. That was smooth too. And now his head was cold. He wondered if his hair would regrow. Meanwhile, he might have to fashion a hat from something. The rain hurt his head when it was very hard. Lucky he had the forest to cover him. It was in the mornings he might suffer though. Out there on the cliff edge. Talking with his tormentor. There the rain could be very hard indeed.
Troubling. All very troubling.
Auum was nearby. Auum would help him. Like he’d helped him shave. Like he was helping him hunt. He was good, this Auum. Very quiet. Very accurate. Had a lot to learn, mind you. And he was very rude. Wouldn’t speak to the tormentor at all when they were in the camp.
Troubling.
And why was he here, that was something else. Takaar feared what he might ask. What he might want of Takaar. Takaar wanted to remain here. Here he could live. Here he could hide.
Here you can wallow in your guilt and make excuses for your continued existence.
‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Takaar. ‘You aren’t invited.’
I go where I please. I watch what I want.
‘Don’t get in the way of the javelin.’
I’ll be right behind you.
Takaar glanced across at Auum, who was all but invisible, crouched by the trunk of a fig tree. Takaar raised his eyebrows and spread his hands. Auum frowned and went to put a finger to his lips. Stopped himself but Takaar saw the gesture anyway. The student teaching the teacher. Time to see how much he really knew.
The jao deer they had been tracking was a tasty prize. Small, quick and well camouflaged it was a night walker, preferring to keep hidden during the day, when the risk of attack from panthers was higher in this part of the forest. Takaar and Auum had tracked it to a bubbling stream fed by a beautiful cascade falling from an ivy-covered crag about forty feet high. The splash pool was small but deep and a favourite of many of Tual’s denizens.
Safe too. Neither panther nor elf killed there. Muddying the poolside with the blood of a kill kept others away for days on end. This time, though, Takaar could indulge in the luxury of flushing the deer towards his hunting partner. Risky. He did not know Auum’s skill with a javelin, and the one he had given the TaiGethen was a little rough and didn’t fly so true. They might go hungry if there was too much Auum didn’t understand.
Takaar indicated to Auum to be ready and set off towards the pool. It was an idyllic sight. The water splashing down, the deer, long elegant neck extended so it could drink its fill. Its ears twitched continually, hunting for any sound of a predator. Takaar, though, was silent. He moved to the edge of the small clearing. The soft brown and red markings on the deer’s flanks rippled as it breathed and swallowed.
Takaar edged slightly to his left. He felt the ground beneath him give slightly and he rocked back. He moved his foot and replaced it. Firm and noiseless. He glanced at Auum. He had not moved. The javelin was still held tip down in his right hand. Takaar wondered if he had understood the plan.
Oh, another disappointment looms.
Takaar did not respond. Something about Auum and the set of his body, the penetrating gaze, suggested competence and confidence in equal measure. So be it. Takaar circled round a little more. The deer raised its head. Its small bob tail flicked a warning. It had sensed but not heard.
Takaar could take it right here. His throw would be unimpeded. Jao deer roasting over a fire would taste sweet. But this was a lesson, was it not? And he had outlined the deer’s movement on the run at some length earlier in the night. Theory over. Practice separated a good ear from a good aim.
Takaar stepped from cover and clapped his hands sharply. The deer looked down the length of its back, startled. It set off. Its first bound high to escape the jaws of a panther. It hit the ground and darted left. Past a single tree it switched right, its agility improbable if described rather than seen. It ran low. Another high bound. Another change of direction.
Auum had cocked and thrown his javelin in the smoothest movement Takaar had ever seen. He did not throw with too much force, keeping his shape compact and holding his follow-through for a heartbeat. The javelin’s flight was flat and fast, the slightly uneven shaft wobbling. The deer switched direction again, twisting its body back on itself and planting its feet to spring.
The javelin struck it at the base of the neck, burrowing deep to pierce its heart. The animal sprawled to the ground, still and dead. Auum moved swiftly from cover to crouch by the deer. Takaar remained where he was. He felt
a lightness in his heart that he had not experienced in a long time and never on Calaius.
Auum removed the javelin and propped it against a tree. He picked up the deer and slung it across his shoulders. He retrieved the javelin and looked over at Takaar.
‘Hungry?’ he said and could not keep the smile from his face.
Takaar glanced over his shoulder.
‘Disappointment? Wrong again and another victory for me.’
But it won’t end here, will it? Has he come here to treat with you or to kill you?
‘You’re hoping I’ll let down my guard.’
Since you are too craven to kill yourself, I’m left with little else. Think you can beat him if he comes at you?
‘I am Takaar.’
You were.
‘I’m sorry?’
Auum was walking towards him. Takaar flapped a hand.
‘It is nothing. A private conversation. Well done. A clean kill. You’ve hunted the jao before?’
‘Never like this. Thank you.’
Takaar wobbled on his feet. Something was coming. Through the ground and through the air. It grabbed his brain and squeezed. It clutched his gut and twisted. It lay on his chest and grew heavy. Takaar blinked. Dawn was here. Why was it so dark? Pelyn was on her feet before Helias had hit the ground. She lashed a kick into the side of his face and another into his kidney before the mob engulfed her. She was borne backwards, rough hands and arms about her waist, chest, neck and head. She was hurled to the ground and rolled in the mud. She bounced quickly to her feet. She was surrounded. Weapons were held out. The mob began to close, trampling her cloak. A couple of ulas helped Helias to his feet. He spat blood from his mouth and advanced on her. This time, though, he had armed help.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, trying to catch the eye of any she could. ‘Helias will deliver you all to the Ynissul. He is with them. Men are coming. Landing at the harbour. Please.’
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