Once walked with Gods e-1

by James Barclay

  One turned and walked directly towards her, stopping a few paces away and crouching. Onelle didn’t recognise her. She held out a hand. Onelle shook her head.

  ‘It’s safe now,’ she said. ‘You can come out.’

  ‘It isn’t. Please,’ said Onelle.

  A terrible aching cold howled through the space in front of her. Frost deepened on leaf and branch, blackening everything it touched. The storm of ice and wind raged past her, forcing her to clutch herself tight and close her eyes. And as quickly as it had come, it blew out, leaving her nauseous but alive. Though when she opened her eyes, of the TaiGethen, fallen men and elf, there was nothing left at all.

  A cloaked human crunched onto the ice-rimed ground and looked about him, his expression one of satisfaction, of revenge complete. Onelle had no idea what possessed her then. She stood from her cover and walked in front of him. She was still chilled to the bone, though the frost was beginning to melt from the leaves around her, leaving them blackened and dead.

  The man stopped and backed off a pace before smiling when he saw her for the lone lost iad she was. He chuckled and muttered under his breath. Onelle hated everything about the man. Hated the eyes that looked on her as nothing more than an animal. Hated the smell of him, and hated what he carried within him. She could sense it. Energy forged to evil.

  Onelle ran across the gap. She was quick. Very quick. She cocked her arm and lashed her fingers across his throat. She felt her nails catch, dig in and rip at his flesh. She should have recoiled but it didn’t feel revolting. It felt right. Deep they went, the tips of her fingers snagging sinew and her nails catching on his windpipe. She dug in her thumb and closed her hand. Blood was pouring over her wrist and forearm. The mage gurgled, his face gone from contempt to shock.

  ‘Do not dare kill my people,’ said Onelle.

  She jerked her hand back hard. Takaar was a heartbeat too late. The mage pushed out his hands. The ula in his sights was plucked from the ground and crushed against a tree, his head making a horrible cracking sound as it struck. The body slumped. Takaar hurdled a low branch, kept his left leg straight and caught the mage in the side of the head.

  The casting failed and the ula fell to the ground. Takaar landed and spun. Auum had run to his left. Warriors were on them. Beside him the mage still moved. His body was jerking and his eyelids fluttered. Takaar dropped to his knees and jabbed straight-fingered into his throat. Death for him would be full of desperate fear.

  Takaar leaned to one side and vomited bile. Castings were still falling all over this region of the forest, making his head spin and his stomach turn over. He squeezed his eyes shut, searching for a way to contain his reactions. He stared down at the mage, who still clung on to life, choking and making feeble grabs at his throat.

  ‘What you have,’ whispered Takaar, ‘I can take from you.’

  Everyone and everything had this energy to a greater or lesser extent. It was an element as common as air. But this body before him had more. Like he was able to hold it, focus it in to something far more dense than any ordinary man, elf or beast.

  ‘What you have learned, I will learn,’ said Takaar.

  This to be your grand new project, is it?

  ‘Don’t start on me.’

  I’d work on living right now if you really must.

  ‘Takaar! Roll!’

  Takaar twisted left. A blade bit the ground where he had been kneeling. Marack leapt over him, landed and round-housed the human soldier in the side of the head. Off balance, Katyett’s blades saw him to the wrath of Shorth.

  Marack turned and held out a hand. Takaar took it and stood.

  ‘We’re clear here,’ said Auum. ‘We’ve got them running back towards the Ultan.’

  ‘Keep them turned,’ said Takaar. ‘Katyett. Don’t let them regroup.’

  ‘Normally I’d agree with you, but right now we have more pressing concerns. Pelyn! Pelyn, I need you.’

  An Al-Arynaar came into view from their left. Takaar recognised him but couldn’t place him.

  ‘Methian,’ said Katyett. ‘You’ll do just as well.’

  Methian. That was it. Pelyn’s confidant. No wonder he didn’t look at Takaar with any warmth.

  ‘She’s close,’ said Methian. ‘She’ll have heard you.’

  ‘We have to round the survivors up. Get them away from here. Olbeck Rise would be ideal. Think you can square it with the Apposans?’

  ‘I reckon,’ said Methian.

  ‘How many did we lose, do you think?’ asked Merrat.

  ‘Hundreds,’ said Methian. ‘Hundreds. No exaggeration.’

  ‘TaiGethen will track for you. Follow the stream. We’ll secure the route and send them on as we find them.’

  ‘Katyett?’

  Pelyn appeared from the undergrowth along with two other Al-Arynaar. Brothers. Deserters but perhaps forgiven by now. She glanced at Takaar, bit her lip and focused on Katyett instead.

  ‘Are you clear?’

  Pelyn nodded. ‘The last we chased are either dead or running for the Ultan bridge.’

  ‘Good,’ said Katyett. ‘We’re clearing towards Olbeck Rise. Methian will fill you in.’

  Pelyn shook her head.

  ‘No. We can’t just gather ourselves and leave. It’s night in a few hours.’

  Katyett was looking at her blankly. ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘And the TaiGethen surrender at dawn or the humans will start slaughtering innocents, remember? Hanging them out on the edge of the city.’

  Katyett drew in a sharp breath. ‘Damn me for a fool. How could I forget that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Pelyn.

  ‘It does,’ said Katyett. She couldn’t stop herself glancing at Takaar. ‘Mind elsewhere. Hardly the right quality in a leader.’

  ‘If it makes you feel better, I’ll question you about it later,’ said Pelyn. ‘What I don’t understand is, why did they attack us in the first place?’

  ‘They are trying to provoke you. Make sure you enter the city,’ said Takaar. ‘They won’t be expecting meek surrender. Llyron will tell them that much, I’m sure. They will have hoped to spread confusion, kill a few… lessen you.’

  ‘They’ve succeeded,’ said Katyett. ‘To a point. The question is, how do we stop them killing our people? Because we aren’t going to surrender and we are going to attack. We have no choice. They will know that, won’t they? They’ll be ready.’

  Takaar nodded. ‘This will test us.’

  ‘A head-on assault won’t get us anywhere,’ said Marack. ‘We are too few. We have to do something that will stop them carrying out their threat.’

  Katyett smiled and Takaar saw her confidence in herself return in small part.

  ‘We need a hostage,’ she said. ‘Graf. Marack. Call the TaiGethen. We’ll meet in the lee of the Ultan at dusk. That leaves us the day to find as many of our people as we can.’

  ‘Is Olbeck far enough from the city?’ asked Auum.

  Takaar saw Methian and Pelyn both shake their heads.

  ‘Pelyn, I need you to go with Methian,’ said Katyett. ‘Clear Olbeck too. Make for Katura Falls.’

  Pelyn didn’t respond. Takaar watched her weighing up her response. He knew what she was thinking. She was being kept from the attack on the city. Marginalised.

  ‘The Al-Arynaar are the police of Ysundeneth. You need us there.’

  ‘There are not enough of you to fulfil that function.’

  Pelyn raised her eyebrows. ‘You have fewer people than I do. You need us.’

  ‘Yes, I need you to save the Apposans and Ynissul, get them away from here. Lead them. All of them are citizens of Ysundeneth.’

  Pelyn shook her head. ‘The fact is that you think us not good enough to run with you.’

  Katyett’s face was stone. ‘Yourself excepted, you are not good enough to do the work that must be done tonight. Methian is a worthy fighter and a great asset, but he has not the speed. He knows that and so do you. Please, Pelyn.
This is the right way.’

  ‘Pelyn,’ said Takaar, and he remembered the tone that made her listen to him. ‘Will you hear me.’

  ‘You know I will, Takaar,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Don’t chase glory in battle. This task Katyett has set is steeped in honour. If she is unsuccessful. If she should fall, the elves who survive will need a leader of your quality. You have the gift of bringing threads together. It’s why I made you Arch of the Al-Arynaar. No one is better suited. And when we’re done, we will find you at Katura.’

  Pelyn inclined her head. ‘I’ll go. For the harmony, not for you. And Katyett. Don’t die, all right?’

  Katyett smiled ‘Yniss bless you, Pelyn, I’ll try not to.’

  Chapter 37

  A hero never needs a second chance because he has not erred in the first place. Seventy-four TaiGethen. If Takaar was counted among their number. None spoke to him. None would stand near him. His presence was both inspiration and anxiety. Takaar stood apart, unwilling or unable to be among them while they planned and talked.

  Marack and Auum had agreed to run with him into the city. Katyett had no idea whether he would remain with them or not. He had fought well in the forest but only when the mages had stopped casting so much of their magic. Until then he had been weak as a newborn.

  Katyett looked at her people. So few. They had gathered at the mouth of the Ultan. The night was full and dark. Gyal had spread her shroud across the stars and the eyes of men could not see them. They had prayed together, applying their face paints and blessing their weapons, both flesh and steel.

  Seventy-four against thousands. In a city where magic was scattered like dust underfoot. Any step could be the one that took iad or ula to Shorth’s embrace. An invisible killer surer than anything the rainforest had to offer. Yet there was no fear in the eyes of her people. Yniss blessed their bodies. Tual guided their hands and their feet.

  ‘Men are everywhere in Ysundeneth. They have occupied the temple of Shorth, the barracks of the Al-Arynaar and taken homes from elves, putting them on the street or to the sword. Their magic is terribly dangerous and their weapon skills decent. They fight heavy and wear armour to make up for their shortcomings. They have some skills with bows too. But they are slow.

  ‘Do not underestimate them. Their numbers are high and their fear of their master will drive them on. Do not be tempted away from the paths I have laid out for you. You are all aware of what we must achieve. Show no mercy. Expect no mercy.

  ‘They know we will come. They can’t place their ward castings where they themselves might stand but they will place them where we might travel. If anything smells or feels wrong, go another way. I can’t afford to lose any of you. I love you. You are my brothers and sisters. My family.

  ‘Questions.’

  There was silence for a time. Katyett saw unease sweep them. She saw the glances too.

  ‘Estok,’ she said. ‘Speak. Unlike you to be silent.’

  Estok nodded and gestured at Takaar, who was close enough to hear.

  ‘What is he doing here?’ he hissed. ‘We can’t trust him. And you’ve yoked him with Marack and Auum.’

  ‘We need him,’ said Katyett.

  Estok’s expression was like a slap in the face.

  ‘We? We’ve followed you for ten years and you have never led us along the wrong path. He walks in from nowhere, and every time you want to make a decision, you look at him like you need his assent. We don’t need him. We don’t need the invisible presence he mutters to half the time, either. Perhaps you do, though.’

  Katyett felt stung and had to force herself to face Estok and not glance to her left where Takaar stood.

  ‘My past with Takaar is my past,’ said Katyett carefully. ‘And you are not seeing this situation clearly. Yes, he is a risk. He will tell you that. But think. Whatever the outcome of tonight and the days to come, we face a struggle to unite our people. And to rid Calaius of man. The reputation of the priesthood is in ruins. At the moment we needed them most, priests did not stand together in harmony. They divided. Some betrayed us all. Elves will need a figurehead. Who else can you think of?’

  ‘He’s been denounced!’ Estok’s voice bounced from the walls of the Ultan. He hushed himself. ‘Who will follow him? What of his reputation? You saw him speak to the Ynissul. Did they embrace him or were they suspicious? He cannot hope to wield the influence he once did. This is ridiculous.’

  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.’