The gate was maintained by forces none but Takaar understood and which would collapse should he pass through it. And while a collapse would stall the Garonin, it would maroon a huge number of elves too.
The moment’s calm was undermined by the fear of the civilians below. What was coming was as inevitable as it was unstoppable. The Garonin machines began to pound the door of the keep. Auum spun round at the sound of running feet below them, at the base of the spiral stair.
‘No! Katyett, they’re trying to get back down the tunnels.’ Auum leaned over to shout his warning. ‘You’re going the wrong way. Take the ladder down the bore!’
‘Al-Arynaar. Twenty detail. Get down there. Keep the people going down the ladder,’ ordered Pelyn. ‘Methian. You’re leading. Move!’
The barrage on the door reached a deafening clamour. From below, the shrieks of terrified elves echoed up. It sounded like a stampede down there. No one who faced the door spoke. Huge dents had been beaten in the four-inch-thick steel. Like great fists were striking again and again. The fists of gods. The first tear appeared dead centre of the door. Daylight streamed in. Immediately, the barrage focused on the weak point.
‘Not long now,’ said Olmaat.
Behind them, panic deepened. A sheet of light fled up the bore. A second followed it and lastly a series of sharp flickers. Auum’s heart skipped a beat. An Al-Arynaar appeared in front of Katyett and Pelyn.
‘The gateway is failing. Takaar ran through and now it’s coming apart.’
Katyett stared at Pelyn and at her warriors. Auum could see it in her eyes. They had lost. Projectiles fell like an avalanche on the door. The tear had become a hole an elf could walk through upright. A large missile flew through and slammed into the far wall, smashing stone and causing a fall of beams and rubble.
Katyett swallowed. She nodded.
‘It is done,’ she said. ‘Warriors of Hausolis. We can do no more than sacrifice our lives to no avail. The Garonin machines will kill us at distance. Your choice. Go to your peoples and stand until they come for you. Or go through the gateway now and live to fight the day the Garonin find us again. Travel to Calaius and help the elves of Hausolis build anew. My advice: live today. Orderly descent. Go.’
Olmaat wrapped an arm around Auum’s shoulder.
‘I will not leave you behind,’ he said.
Auum and Olmaat ran together. Down the spiral stairs and onto the floor around the bore. Other Tai and Al-Arynaar ran to the panicking, fleeing elves to try and turn them around, to guide them to safety. Auum stared at them while the light from the gateway flickered and faded.
‘Run! Go!’
Warrior elves, many with civilians in tow, swarmed down the ladder. More crowded the head, desperate for a foot on the first rung. Elves urged those on the ladder to move faster. More and more crowded on, pushing down on those below.
‘Ease the pressure!’ shouted Katyett.
With a rending wail, the great steel door gave way. A torrent of heavy footsteps could be heard. Garonin in the keep. All pretence at order dissolved. Elves surged onto the rungs. They climbed over each other or packed into the tunnels to escape back into the forests of Hausolis.
Auum released himself from Olmaat.
‘We have to buy more time,’ he said and trotted back towards the spiral stair. ‘TaiGethen!’
A hundred elves turned and packed back towards the Garonin. The first enemy soldiers were descending. Weapons fire rattled down the stairs. Olmaat raced past Auum, clubbing his sword into the lower leg of an enemy. The Garonin pitched down the stairs. TaiGethen finished him. More filled the space. The density of fire increased. TaiGethen were blown aside. Garonin jumped down from the hall, feet slamming onto the ground by the bore.
Auum ducked. A Garonin weapon butt missed him by a hair. Auum threw himself forward, grappling the Garonin’s legs. The soldier fell back. Auum crawled up his body and plunged a short blade through his eye slit. A weapon rang out. Something smashed into Auum’s side spinning him over. Olmaat was by him. His blades whispered in the air above Auum’s head. A Garonin body pitched over the balustrade and dropped onto the packed floor, hitting friend and foe alike.
‘Time for you to leave, my friend.’
Olmaat grabbed his left arm and pulled. Pain filled Auum’s body. He gasped but did not let go. TaiGethen blades were all around them. Weapons fire clanged and sparked against metal, thumped into defenceless bodies and ripped away limb and head.
‘Go!’ yelled Olmaat. ‘All of you. Go!’
The TaiGethen disengaged. Down on the ladder, elves fought to descend. The weak and unlucky fell. All around the edge of the bore, TaiGethen shunned the ladder and climbed down the walls.
‘Can you do that?’ asked Olmaat.
His free hand whipped out, his blade ran through a Garonin side and up under his ribs. Olmaat kicked him aside. They reached the edge of the bore. Garonin were everywhere.
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Auum.
Olmaat released him. He almost fell. He took a shuddering breath and hauled himself into the bore. TaiGethen were pouring down the walls now. Garonin fire chased down after them, raked the ladder. Elves juddered and fell. The survivors pressed harder. Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen fought around the lip. Garonin fell, tumbling to smash into the floor of the gateway chamber. Too many warriors joined them.
All the while, the light of the gateway guttered and spat, sending lurid shadows up the bore. Like all the Tais, Auum went head first. The bore was rough cut. Handholds were easy. He kept his body flat against the rock, letting his clothes supply friction to slow his descent. His side ached. Blood flowed from both of his wounds.
Auum began to feel light-headed. He resisted the temptation to speed up. Two TaiGethen came to his sides. Another dropped in front of him.
‘Just keep moving, brother,’ said one.
Moments later, weapons fire took her from the walls and thrust her to the ground. Auum cried out. His arms shook and his mind clouded.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Leave me, save yourselves.’
The other two ignored him and he was too relieved to thank them. He followed the hand- and footholds of the Tai in front of him all the way to the ground. Ahead the gateway wavered violently, steadied and then shimmered.
‘Run! Run! Get inside.’
Auum was half carried across the floor. It was full of running elves. At the face, a line stood to keep back the Garonin.
‘Let me stand,’ he said. ‘I can still fight.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Olmaat, next to him once more.
He took Auum from his charges and ran him through the gate. The last thing he heard was the sound of weapons fire, the shrieks of elves and the calm orders of warriors facing certain death.
‘Shorth, embrace your souls.’ Auum knew what Takaar was thinking. Or what a sane Takaar would have been thinking. There was no dodging who had triggered the rout.
‘With me standing, we might have stood for hours more,’ Takaar whispered eventually. ‘Think how many more thousands might have been saved.’
‘Maybe,’ said Auum.
But he knew the whole truth.
Takaar’s eyes narrowed and he gestured angrily over his shoulder.
‘I might have known you’d chirp up about now. Don’t you ever tire of reminding me?’
‘Takaar,’ said Auum.
‘No, I thought not. And I will not do it. You think if I haven’t found the courage in ten years I might suddenly do so now? Your wheedling voice cannot make me do anything I don’t care to do. We’ll need to bring some poisons I’ve been perfecting.’
Takaar stared at Auum. The young TaiGethen blinked.
‘What’s he saying?’ he hedged.
Takaar’s shoulders drooped.
‘It’s as if you can’t hear him at all,’ he chided. ‘And perhaps you can’t hear me either. I said, we’ll need to bring some poisons I’ve been working on. Some of the better burn salves too. So I’ll be needing your
help.’
What cascaded through Auum then fell nothing short of pure joy.
‘You’re coming!’ he said, the sound of his voice setting animals to flight in the nearby brush.
‘I would have thought that was obvious.’
Auum nodded. ‘Of course, of course. Thank you. The whole elven race will thank you.’
‘Hardly,’ said Takaar. ‘And you just need to give it up. I am not going to throw myself from the cliffs. I have dreamed up another and more satisfying way to die. Care to join us?’
‘I…’ began Auum before realising to whom Takaar was speaking.
‘You know this has nothing to do with redemption or regaining my position or anything. You’ve known me ten years and you still don’t realise I don’t care for such things.’
Auum paused before speaking, waiting for clarification. None appeared forthcoming. Takaar strode away to his hut and began selecting various pots. The conversation was clearly over.
‘Could I ask why you are doing this?’
Takaar stared at Auum. It was disconcerting. It unpicked him from the inside out. Takaar thrust some pots and a net bag fashioned from old strong liana at him.
‘Pack these. I’ll explain how they work on the way.’ He moved to his hammock and picked up a cloth-covered bundle. He unwrapped it, exposing back scabbards. One still retained its blade. ‘It should be obvious why I am going. It’s because he said that I would lack the courage to do so.’
Auum was having trouble getting used to the constant raising and deflating of his hopes.
‘Not for your brothers and sisters? Not for Katyett?’
Takaar snorted. ‘Hardly. I have worked out these years gone that I know nothing. But I am irritated that my life’s work is being undone. And I am most certainly selfish enough, and brave enough, though he would say otherwise, to see it un-undone.’
It would have to do. Auum set about making the camp tidy and checking his meagre gear. He found Takaar staring at him again when he was about to kick earth over the fire.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Readying to leave,’ said Auum.
‘Don’t be in such a rush.’
‘But-’
‘There is food to eat and no elf should set about a task with an empty stomach. No elf should decide to eat on the move when there is comfort to be had. Sit. We shall eat. And then I shall show you the best way to pack our meat, the raw and the cooked, to keep it at its best. Then we shall leave.’
Auum shrugged his shoulders, blew out his cheeks and sat down.
Chapter 24
There is no easier enemy than the intransigent general on indefensible ground. The clothes were too big and made of a cloth far finer than Pelyn had ever worn. They were for an ula too and had space in all the wrong places. There was no armour. She slung her cloak about her shoulders and grimaced at the ruin that had been made of it. At least the sword on her hip was sharp – Tulan’s second blade, and he always kept his edges keen.
‘What do we do?’ asked Ephran.
He was staring out of the upstairs window at the fires that completely encircled the harbour. Salt and Sail Maker were ablaze street by street. The Park of Tual was in the path of the human advance. Already, hundreds of Cefans and Orrans had fled their ghetto, not caring that they were running into enemy territory. Most had been chased off, away towards the Glade, to the Gardaryn and the Chambers quarter.
The more persistent, those urging the Tualis to flee before it was too late, were beaten. Worse, some had been strung up against trees in the old Tuali ritual execution of tua-mossa. Sliced and spit, was the common slang. Pelyn had watched desperate elves pleading to be heard. The only response was evisceration followed by a spear driven up through the body.
‘Still glad you deserted the Al-Arynaar, my brothers?’ asked Pelyn.
Both had the decency to remain silent.
There was no organisation. Just this pointless, hideous and brutal defence of small pockets of Ysundeneth by the disparate threads. Llyron and Sildaan had been relying on just that. The Tualis still couldn’t see what was coming, though every fire, every casting must have screamed at them to run. Their misplaced belief in the traitor Helias was about to cost them very dear. They were waiting for orders but hadn’t worked out that when he came back he’d be bringing hundreds of men with him.
‘We have to find what’s left of the Al-Arynaar. But I’ve got business to attend to on the way to the barracks, if there’s anything left of it.’
‘We’re with you,’ said Tulan.
‘Forgive me if I don’t turn my back on you just yet.’
‘We had to protect our own,’ said Ephran quietly.
‘Dammit, that’s just what you haven’t done, isn’t it?’ Pelyn stalked towards him. ‘We all had our doubts but those of us with any strength knew that the only thing, the only thing that mattered was preservation of the harmony. Look what you’ve done. You’ve turned Tualis into ravening animals prepared to murder those they prayed with two days ago. And I have no doubt that elsewhere in this city Tualis are suffering the same fate. Congratulations on sticking a sword in the gut of the elven race.’
The two of them were staring at her with the pained expression of a wronged child.
‘What? You thought I’d fall over myself to bring you back to the bosom of the Al-Arynaar? Let’s get something straight so we don’t misunderstand each other out there on the burning streets. You two are deserters. The fact you saved my life means you have enough sense and decency to know you’ve made a big mistake. But I can’t trust you like brothers, can I? I can’t simply forget what you did. Nor what other deserters have done. So it’s up to you. Stand with me and try to win this fight and we’ll see where we are when it’s done. Or run into the rainforest now and throw yourselves on the mercy of Tual’s denizens, the Silent and the TaiGethen.’
Tulan nodded. ‘I don’t think we’ll be running.’
Pelyn smiled. ‘Good. I thought not. Now let’s go. Tell me where the Apposans have made their stand. I’m guessing south side. Probably at the Grans or maybe Old Millers.’
‘Creatures of habit,’ said Tulan. ‘Why them?’
‘Methian was podded and given to them.’
Tulan hissed in a breath. ‘Pelyn…’
‘I know. But I have to try.’
‘We’ll go out the back. Avoid the Tuali mob.’
‘We do need them,’ said Pelyn. ‘Whoever survives. It doesn’t matter what they would have done to me. Not for now.’
Tulan nodded. ‘But first things first, right?’
‘Right. And put on your cloaks, though Yniss knows you don’t deserve to wear them. I don’t want us looking like a Tuali snatch squad or whatever the hell you’ve been playing at.’
They trotted down the stairs and out of a rear door, across a small private garden and through a back gate into a narrow alley. Tulan led. Ephran followed. Pelyn kept them both where she could see them. The sun was rising and hot but the sky was burnished with the foul colours of human magical fire mixed with the yellow of burning wood. The stench of ash was heavy in the air.
Away from the immediate fighting, the city was strangely silent. The streets were deserted. Thread mobs were keeping their heads down. The majority, the shocked civilians wanting no part of it, would be in their homes – those that still had them. Or hiding wherever their thread was strongest, forced to seek refuge among those they despised for their actions.
Pelyn sighed as she ran. It was so hard to see how there could be any resolution to this that would hold. You could glue a smashed pot back together but the cracks would always be visible, the pieces always prone to fall apart.
The Grans was a densely populated area, favourite of forest workers and home to a warren of houses and winding streets as well as logging yards and a few construction businesses. The Apposans, followers of the oldest earth god, had always been the largest-represented thread there and had a long history of excellence in farming the fores
t and working the wood.
But they were an aggressive thread, historically. Intolerant. They were also the shortest-lived, barring the Gyalans, with whom they had fought across the millennia over triviality after triviality. Coming out of a side street onto Yanner’s Approach, which led into the Grans, Tulan slowed.
‘They were in Orsan’s Yard last night, most of them,’ he said, pointing away over pitched roofs to where a thick column of smoke rose. ‘They may not be there now of course.’
‘Why not?’ asked Pelyn.
‘We raided there last night, early on,’ said Ephran. ‘Retaliation for an attack earlier in the day near the Gardaryn.’
‘Terrific,’ said Pelyn. ‘So they’ll be particularly welcoming this morning.’
Tulan moved quickly away into the Grans. Elves were in evidence here. Scuttling about, collecting water. Some children even played. Others made play of a normal life, but those that didn’t stop and stare at the cloaks were more concerned with the pall of smoke hanging over the docks. Surely some in the thread knew what was coming.
Towards Orsan’s Yard, Tulan headed off the main avenue and wove deep into the warren. The yard fence stood tall beyond the end of the last row of houses and across a small patch of open ground where children were playing or watching the fires. There was a burst of laughter from within. It was genuine and heartfelt, accompanied by a smattering of applause and shouts of ‘Another.’ Pelyn drew up, surprised.
‘You’d think storytelling would be the least of their desires right now,’ she said.
They crossed the open ground and hugged the fence around to the right towards the gate. There was a good deal of traffic in and out and the gate was guarded by blade carriers. They were spotted quickly.
‘Al-Arynaar. You are not welcome here,’ said a guard, a short Apposan with thickly muscled forearms and powerful fists gripping axe and sword.
Pelyn walked in front of the brothers now. She hitched her cloak back to reveal her sword but did not make a move to touch it.
Once walked with Gods e-1 Page 22