Once walked with Gods e-1

by James Barclay

  Auum turned to look down onto the lawns and away into the city. The fight was almost done but magic had been cast. Auum frowned and felt a shiver through him.

  ‘They are waiting for us to attack the doors,’ said Marack.

  Auum knelt and put his face and hands to the glass of the left eye. Warriors were scattered through the vast hall of the body of Shorth. He could see priests too. Moving about the business of the temple. An anomaly of normality. He wondered who they would help and who they would hinder given the opportunity.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Marack.

  ‘It’s a long way,’ said Takaar.

  ‘Like jumping from the centre rungs of the bore,’ said Auum. ‘But a blessed landing awaits.’

  ‘Where’s Katyett?’ asked Takaar.

  ‘Sweeping up. With us soon,’ said Auum.

  The Tai of Marack, Auum and Takaar, took a pace back, jumped and fell feet first through the eyes of Shorth.

  Katyett saw them go and knew she was behind schedule. She raced around the last fire. A group of three mages stood there, defended by the same number of warriors. Merrat and Grafyrre came to her shoulder. From the left, Dravyn’s Tai closed. From the right, Acclan’s cell. Katyett threw a jaqrui. It bounced from an invisible shield in front of the warriors. She saw one of the mages wince at the impact.

  The warriors had no idea which way to face. One of them turned round and shouted at the mages.

  ‘Break!’ shouted Katyett. ‘Watch for the hands.’

  The three cells scattered. Katyett ploughed straight on towards the swordsmen. She grabbed her second blade. In front of her, the warriors crouched. Behind them, a mage raised his head and laid out his hands, palms up.

  ‘Clear!’ yelled Katyett.

  She veered right. The mage’s casting howled across the piazza. A myriad flechettes of ice flayed into Dravyn’s Tai. Shards needle-sharp and razor-edged slicing through clothing, ripping into skin and slitting face, eyes, neck and cheeks. Dravyn cried out, threw his arms about his face and stumbled on. The ice ripped the flesh from his hands, exposing bone faster than a shoal of piranhas. He pitched onto his face.

  His cell brothers tumbled to the ground near his ruined body, blood draining from hundred upon hundred cuts. Flesh hung in strips. Gaping wounds opened where larger shards had carved through their meagre defences.

  Acclan’s revenge was swift. His cell stormed into the rear of the group. His swords came down left and right, taking the head from the casting mage. The decapitated body slumped forward. The cell took one mage each. In front, the warriors scrambled to their feet, shoving the body of the headless mage aside.

  The first looked up. Katyett’s boot smashed his nose across his face. She hinged it back and slapped it in again, time after time into his head and neck, driving him to the ground. She fell on him, her blades piercing throat and heart. Merrat dragged her off the body. Grafyrre and Acclan finished the other two.

  ‘It’s over,’ said Merrat. ‘It’s done.’

  Katyett ran to Dravyn, knelt beside him. He was still breathing.

  ‘He needs help,’ she called.

  She turned him over and knew he was way beyond such need. Katyett’s shoulders slumped. Dravyn was barely recognisable. Most of the skin was gone from his face. His eyes were bloody pools and his lips cut to ribbons. His throat pulsed blood and his cheekbones showed through the flesh torn away.

  ‘Rest, my brother,’ she said. ‘Help is coming.’

  ‘Liar,’ managed Dravyn, mouth bubbling red. ‘At least I am close for my soul to travel to Shorth.’

  Katyett’s tear fell on his cheekbone. She kissed his forehead, tasted his blood.

  ‘Yes, you are. Sleep. Yniss protect you. He has tasks for you elsewhere. ’

  Dravyn smiled and his head fell to one side. Katyett rose. She stared at the bodies of men littering the lawns, defiling them with their blood. In the firelight the faces of her people were drawn at sight of Dravyn’s fate. She wiped bloodied hands down her trousers and picked up her swords.

  ‘Get human bodies to the edge of the piazza. Use them if we need to trigger wards to escape. Acclan. Your Tai to the roof. Look out and in. Keep us together. The rest of you. Form up. Out of sight. Not one of those abominations gets in here. Not one of them gets mercy. Send them all to the wrath of Shorth. He is watching. Merrat, Grafyrre. With me.’ Estok leapt onto the sailcloth-covered crates. He ran to the far end of the stack, turned a forward roll in the air and landed in front of his next victim. His blades sang, slitting leather armour at the chest and biting deep. He rocked back and cracked a foot into the soldier’s knee, feeling it break. Estok stepped aside and let him fall.

  He turned. The job was done. Diversion. Slaughter. Seventy of them idling on the dockside. Fifteen TaiGethen. Only ever one result. Estok called his cells to him. Two TaiGethen had been lost. He spoke prayers for the fallen and exulted at their victory.

  He spun at the sound of running feet.

  ‘Thrynn. Late for the fun. Shame for you.’

  But Thrynn did not smile. ‘They’re coming. Hundreds of them. We have to leave. Now.’

  ‘How did they…’

  ‘They were ready, armed and drilled. Estok, please. We have to get back to the forest.’

  Estok felt the joy drain from him. But he would not leave this way. Not run like some craven beast. Like Takaar.

  ‘No. We can fight. We can win. Look at what we’ve done here.’

  Thrynn shook his head. ‘Do what Katyett asks. Your task is complete. Come on.’

  Thrynn turned and with his Tai began to trot away back to the coastal trail towards the Kirith Marsh. Estok’s cells looked to him. Some had already begun to follow Thrynn.

  ‘We have to weaken them. Prove we can beat them,’ he said.

  Estok heard marching. No, a trot. Coming down the side of the ruined harbour master’s warehouse. A TaiGethen ran to get a view. She backed away quickly. Estok stared. Thrynn had been right. A hundred and more. Swords and castings. Estok swore. They filled the dockside, heading straight for the TaiGethen.

  ‘Estok?’

  Estok stared away to where Thrynn was already gone. Cut off from them now.

  ‘We cannot lead these to Katyett. Tais, we fight.’

  The first castings exploded over their heads. Auum’s feet slapped onto the marble altar amidst a shower of glass. He crouched and rolled sideways to absorb the impact, coming to his haunches at the edge of the circle. Men were staring in disbelief. Takaar and Marack landed by him.

  ‘Where?’ asked Auum.

  ‘Left arm first,’ said Marack. ‘Go.’

  Ignoring the guards and priests in the grand hall, the three TaiGethen turned and ran towards the back of the temple. Shouts were raised behind them. A clamour for action and a call to arms sounded the same in any language. Takaar led, his speed taking him quickly ahead. He tore around the corner into the corridor of the left arm of Shorth and fetched up sharply, slithering to a stop and backing up, beckoning down the corridor with one hand and making a tiny circling gesture with the other.

  Auum and Marack ran left, passing a priest cringing by a column. Takaar backed up further. Five men followed him, swords drawn. None of them was Garan.

  ‘Shorth will remind you,’ said Takaar, ‘that a TaiGethen is never alone.’

  Marack went low, Auum high. Takaar went right. Marack took the legs from the first soldier, bringing him down in a heap. Auum flew over his head as he fell, his feet striking the side of the second warrior’s face and cannoning his head into that of the third.

  Blood sluiced across the wall at the corner of arm and body. Takaar’s blade swiped into the air, red slicking its surfaces, and plunged down again. Auum landed between the two men he had floored. The first was not moving. The second only groggily so. Auum grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face three times into the stone floor. A dark pool spread beneath his skull.

  The three were up and running the moment the fight was done and befor
e the guard from behind could catch them.

  ‘Stairs up,’ said Marack.

  ‘Why?’ asked Auum.

  ‘Best living quarters up there.’

  Stairways were located immediately right and at the end of the arm where the walls rose to meet the fingers. Marack took the first way, sprinting up them three at a time, turning and running up the second flight without pause. Auum was hard on her heels, Takaar behind them both.

  Doors slammed down the length of the corridor, the last of them to the panorama room built inside the fingers, with windows out towards the rainforest and the Ultan.

  ‘Easy place to become trapped,’ said Takaar.

  ‘We’ll start far end. We know someone’s in there and there’s no way out but the windows,’ said Marack. ‘Silent running.’

  Ears could have been pressed to every door and it would have made no difference. The TaiGethen whispered over the timber floor. Like in the forest tracking tapir or monkey, they couldn’t afford to disturb anything.

  Marack indicated Auum and Takaar stay left and right. Marack charged the last few paces, dropped to her backside and slid in hard, her feet slamming into the door at the first cross brace. The door thwacked back against its hinges. Arrows flew out over her head, skipping off the walls and bouncing uselessly onto the floor.

  Auum and Takaar threw jaqruis through the doorway. Marack was on her feet directly after them. The jaqruis missed their targets but served their purpose. Archers ducked. Marack slashed her blades across in front of her, splintering bows in the hands of the two humans.

  Both backed away, reaching for knives. Auum and Takaar moved up beside her. The men glanced at one another and put their hands above their heads in surrender. Auum shook his head. His blade licked out, taking the left hand man through the eye, Garonin style, and piercing his brain. Marack ran the other through.

  Auum turned to assess the room. It was empty barring two iads. Ynissul. One of them was staring at Takaar and he met her gaze unwavering.

  ‘You,’ she said.

  Chapter 39

  Welcoming long lost friends is a risk until you know why they were lost so long. ‘You have to admit he’s clever.’

  Garan edged his foot into one of the elven bodies and turned it over. The camouflage paint remained where the burns had not consumed it. Otherwise, the face was melted. The heat under the multiple orbs and the blistering drops of fired rain must have been devastating in the moments before death. The deluge had been spectacular. And the mages accurate enough to save most of the empty crates masquerading as supplies too.

  Garan nodded. ‘I never doubted his cleverness, Keller, only his planning and execution of military operations. It seems he’s been learning. But I still don’t agree with the sacrifice of so many of my men for so relatively few of theirs.’

  ‘It’s just mathematics, Garan. Simple equations and acceptable loss.’

  ‘I’ll be sure and include that in my letters to the bereaved.’

  ‘He’s bringing this fight to a quick conclusion. I for one am happy about that because it means I get to go home.’

  ‘Don’t pack your bags just yet,’ said Garan. ‘They aren’t finished and there’ll be more of them here somewhere.’

  Keller rocked on his heels and his eyes unfocused. His mouth moved but no sound came. Garan waited. It was the only choice when Communion was underway. Keller was frowning and his fists clenched and unclenched. The contact was short, and when it was done, Keller was nervous.

  ‘Perhaps he’s not so clever after all. There are TaiGethen in the temple.’ ‘Yes,’ said Marack. ‘Him.’

  Marack put the point of her sword under Llyron’s chin. Llyron lifted her head but didn’t take her eyes from Takaar.

  ‘And he’s unbalanced,’ said Marack. ‘Prone to sudden changes of mood and unpredictable actions. So, cascarg, you had better speak.’

  ‘Speak?’ Llyron dragged her eyes away from Takaar. ‘You aren’t here to kill me?’

  ‘You flatter yourself. We’re here for the man in charge, not the iad who betrayed us. Not yet. Consider this a stay of execution.’

  ‘The people of Ysundeneth need their priest of Shorth,’ said Takaar.

  ‘Like they need their champion of the harmony?’ said Llyron.

  Takaar frowned. ‘She isn’t right. But I am not here to lead. Only to help. Never to lead. Only a pair of hands. It is not convenient in any way. Wrong again. But I can strike like a taipan, kill like a panther. Useful. Yes.’

  Auum watched Llyron lean back gradually from both Marack’s blade and Takaar’s muttering. Marack cocked her head.

  ‘Kill like a panther,’ she repeated. ‘Ready to speak?’

  Auum focused on the other iad in the room. Silent for now and staring at the unfolding scene with open mouth and blank eyes. Sildaan looked beaten down. Gone was the cocksure expression and the arrogance of growing power. Replaced by a dull morbidity. Not triggered by the arrival of the TaiGethen either.

  ‘Where’s Garan?’ demanded Auum.

  Sildaan looked up at him. She wasn’t about to say anything. Next to her, Llyron managed a dry laugh.

  ‘Garan? He’s down at the barracks. That’s where the soldiers live. Why on earth would you care?’

  ‘Like I said, we’re here for the man in charge?’

  Llyron laughed again and Marack pushed her blade a little closer. ‘And you’re looking for Garan? He’s not in charge. You poor fools, why did you come here? You really have no idea of the power that has arrived on our shores, do you? It’s over for the elves of Ysundeneth and so it will be for those of Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine.

  ‘All you can do now is run to the rainforest. Hide in the darkest parts of the canopy and wait for the inevitable end. Men are here. Magic is here. And you can do nothing to stop it.’

  Auum saw Marack hesitate. Now he understood Sildaan’s desolation. And his hatred of her deepened.

  ‘So who is the man in charge?’ he asked. ‘We don’t care who he is. We want him. No human is fast enough to beat a TaiGethen.’

  Sildaan caught his gaze, and Yniss preserve him if there wasn’t pity in her eyes.

  ‘O Auum. So right about so much but so wrong about this. Please run while you still have time.’

  Something in her chilled Auum to the core. ‘What have you done? What have you allowed into our lands?’

  ‘We are all of us only alive until our usefulness runs its course,’ said Sildaan.

  ‘Sildaan!’ snapped Llyron. ‘Enough.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Auum. ‘What aren’t you telling us?’

  Sildaan didn’t get the chance to respond. Takaar groaned. He stumbled back clutching at his head, doubled over and fell to the ground on his side, vomiting bile onto the timber floor and convulsing.

  Both Llyron and Sildaan leapt up and backed away from him as he writhed and tried to cry out through jaws locked in pain.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Magic,’ said Auum. ‘That’s what. Lots of it. Either here or down at the dockside.’

  Outside the windows, echoes of light could be seen flashing across the sky. Marack ran to the door and pulled it open. Auum, crouched by Takaar, could see down the corridor. It was empty but there were the sounds of fighting echoing up from the hall below. Katyett was inside the temple.

  A door opened halfway down the corridor and an ula stumbled out, crashing into the wall opposite before turning his back to lean against it and jab a finger back towards the chamber.

  ‘I will never bow to this. This is not what we planned. How can you countenance this genocide?’

  The ula ducked. An arrow bit into the wall where his head had been. He looked left and right, saw Marack at the door and began running towards them. Auum growled and stood.

  Hithuur.

  The traitor priest dived headlong into the room.

  ‘Close it. Bar it. Please.’

  Other figures were emerging from the room. Marack slammed the door, ran to a heav
y chair and dragged it across. Auum pounced on Hithuur.

  ‘Cascarg. You killed my Jarinn. You murdered our high priest. Welcome to your execution.’

  ‘No. What are you talking about? It was men. Men and magic. I loved Jarinn.’

  Hithuur tried to scrabble away but Auum was too strong. He clamped a hand on Hithuur’s throat and squeezed.

  ‘Liar. Olmaat saw. And Olmaat lives.’

  Hithuur’s eyes widened. He gurgled, trying to force words out. Auum tightened his grip a little more. Marack pulled another chair in front of the door. Behind him, Takaar was moaning but his body was back under his control.

  ‘Please,’ croaked Hithuur. ‘Or many thousands more will die.’

  ‘And if I am one of them it will be worth it to see your soul to the wrath of Shorth,’ said Auum.

  ‘I. Deserve. It. Please. You can help them.’

  There was an impact on the door. Marack braced herself against it and yelled for Sildaan to help. Sildaan did not move.

  ‘Say nothing, Hithuur. Nothing,’ said Llyron.

  Auum heard her, spared her a glance and relaxed his grip.

  ‘Speak. Speak now. Llyron cannot hurt you. I can.’

  ‘Hithuur,’ warned Llyron.

  ‘Shut up. Shut up. Trying to save your own skin. Too late for that.’

  Llyron rose to her feet but Takaar was in front of her and shoved her back down. There was another impact on the door. Heavier this time. The chairs moved. Marack pushed them back hard.

  ‘There is a very powerful man in charge. A mage lord. He’s sectioning the city. Dividing the threads.’

  ‘Huh,’ said Auum. ‘You should be delighted. That’s just what you wanted, wasn’t it? The old order restored.’

  ‘Ystormun, the mage lord, he isn’t sectioning the city to bring back the old order. He’s doing it because he’s going to exterminate the threads he feels can’t benefit him.’