‘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.
‘It’s like a prison,’ said Everash, Corsaar’s second.
‘It’s worse than that. Looks to me like none of them are asleep. It’s the middle of the night.’
‘Katyett said they’d be expecting us.’
‘But not to this extent,’ said Corsaar. ‘They’re ready aren’t they? All of them.’
Thrynn moved up the steep roof with his Tai. Corsaar saw the expression on his face before he shook his head.
‘It’s bad, Corsaar. We’ve been on the ground and on the roofs. They’re everywhere. Areas of the city are cordoned off. We assume there’s magic along some boundaries, and everywhere else there are men and mages. We haven’t seen a single elf. There are no lights bar those the humans have lit. It’s so silent down there. What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. But we could get in big trouble very fast. We need to warn Katyett. They’ve-’
Light blossomed down on the dockside. Orders were barked in the barracks yard. At least a hundred men and mages ran out, heading for the harbour. Corsaar cursed.
‘Thrynn, get to Estok. Get him out of there. Get back to the forest. I’m going to the piazza. This isn’t going to end well.’ The light of a spell bloomed to the north. Katyett signalled they move up. Behind them came the noise of marching and shouting from the direction of the barracks away down the street. Ahead of them was the double entrance to the temple piazza. The Path of Yniss split around the tower temple of Cefu, running left past the low dark-painted walls of Appos, and right past the spectacular murals and living stone of Tual.
Men guarded both entrances and more were gathered on the lawns around fires and cook pots. Mages and swordsmen. There was no way to get to Shorth without a fight and the plan had changed from one of stealth to one of speed. If they could defeat the guard before the alarm was raised, they might get in and out without too much trouble.
Forty-five TaiGethen split left and right. They crept up to the walls of the temples, hidden by shadows, invisible to their enemies. Jaqrui pouches were unclipped. Swords were drawn from scabbards. Limbs were flexed and joints rotated. Prayers were spoken and new camouflage applied.
‘Quick and low,’ whispered Katyett. ‘Don’t give the mages a target. Marack, don’t hesitate here. You know what you have to do.’
The rasping sound of a cicada came from across the road. The left-hand side was ready. Katyett chirruped an acknowledging call. She waited a few moments. There was no new sound from the humans. Katyett made the hoot of a spider monkey and TaiGethen flowed into the temple piazza.
Ahead of them, swordsmen straightened in surprise, spread out and shouted warnings. Twenty-five jaqruis whispered away. The lethal blades flashed across the short space. Metal carved into leather, flesh and sparked off blade. Men screamed.
One ducked, not fast enough, the jaqrui lodging in his forehead. Three more were killed outright, blades striking face and neck. Crescents struck sparks from the walls, sheared off metal armour, slammed into midriff, chest and arm.
Auum powered ahead. He leapt, Marack and Takaar in his wake, twisting as he cleared the fractured human line. He hacked down with his blade, cleaving into the neck of a hapless enemy warrior. Auum landed, spun and ran, hearing the TaiGethen overwhelming the defenders behind him while he led the charge to the lawns, their fires and their mages.
Men were running towards him, away from him, across him. Orders were called. He could see mages gathering behind their defenders, dropping their heads to begin casting. Auum upped his speed. Takaar went past him like he was walking. His speed was ridiculous, unearthly. He was heading for the mages. He hurdled a fire and was lost to sight.
Auum moved up to support, tearing around the left side of the blaze. Takaar leapt, spun in the air and delivered a vicious kick to the side of a mage’s head. The man crumpled. Takaar landed. His fists blurred. A
second one went down, his face slashed and his chest punctured.
Auum slid into the legs of a mage who had raised his head to cast. Auum bounced up, kicking down hard at the same man’s face, cracking his fist into a second enemy’s jaw and lashing his blade through his unprotected gut. Warriors ran around a fire to his right.
‘Bows,’ said Auum.
There were more mages too. The cells to the left had them in their sights. More swordsmen were running across the lawns from defensive points around the piazza. Marack touched Auum on the shoulder.
‘The temple.’
Auum followed her. Behind them, the bulk of the TaiGethen force was on the lawns, running to engage man and mage. More jaqruis flew. Ahead of Auum, a crescent blade sheared through a bow, and sliced in under the chin of the archer. From the flanks, more TaiGethen surged in.
To the left, a mage cast. Three TaiGethen were hurled from their feet, slamming hard into the walls of Orra across the lawns. The mage moved his hands. Not fast enough. A TaiGethen blade swept down and up, taking one hand and reversing into his chest.
Auum followed Marack and Takaar towards Shorth. The doors were deep in shadow, almost certainly shut and barred. Guards stood there, ready but nervous. Marack had no intention of going that way. Others would take them. She jumped down into the sunken gardens and swarmed up the vines that encased side and rear walls, almost eclipsing the stone of the body and arms in places.
Auum had always wanted to be able to look down upon it. To see the sculpted head lying face up, the top of its skull home to the temple doors. And to trace each arm down to its hand where they were carved as gripping the earth. The temple ended at the base of the torso. The original design was for it to have legs and feet too but there simply had not been room on the piazza.
A curious quirk of the design was that there were few windows in Shorth. The grand doors let in light which was reflected about the walls by mirrors and white walls, but otherwise the builders had stayed as true to an elven body as they could. And so apart from a few light wells letting down onto contemplation chambers, the only windows were those adorning the fingernails at the ends of the hands, and of course the eyes.
Once walked with Gods e-1 Page 36