Once walked with Gods e-1

by James Barclay

  Auum swayed back from Hithuur and looked at Marack to be sure he’d heard right. Hithuur had made flesh a fear that burned in every elf. To lose a thread is to lose a god.

  ‘Apposans and Orrans he assumes will be useful. Ixii, Gyalans, Ynissul. Not so. And not just here,’ said Hithuur. ‘Across Calaius. Every city, every settlement. We… we saved the archives. He has everything he needs.’

  Door, chairs and Marack were flung aside as if tossed by the hand of Yniss himself. Marack fetched up against the wall under the windows. The chairs broke against stone and beam. Auum was on his feet, his swords out. Hithuur lay where he was and let out a feeble whine. His crotch grew dark.

  A man strode into the room. It could only be Ystormun. Tall. Gaunt like a corpse on whom the flesh has weathered like leather. His head was shaved. Eyes sunken into dark-rimmed sockets. They were a stunning emerald green and brim-full of malevolence. He wore plain clothes. Grey and cream shirt and trousers. On his feet were light-brown boots. Beside him was a human with a bow. And just behind him was Helias. The final traitor.

  Ystormun surveyed them all briefly. He reached out a hand. Black lines, like lightning, sprang from it and speared into Hithuur’s body. The priest jerked and his tongue jutted from jaws that clamped down on it. Blood poured from his mouth. His clothing began to smoulder and his eyes flashed flame briefly before a shriek was dragged from his mouth and he lay still.

  Ystormun moved further into the room, sniffing the air. He spared Sildaan and Llyron the briefest acknowledgement before focusing on Takaar, who had gripped the sides of his head and sunk to his knees when Hithuur had suffered his fate. Auum looked at Marack. She was moving but still down. Helias had positioned himself behind the archer, whose bow was trained on Auum.

  ‘In my city, we call this an awakening. Painful is it not?’ Ystormun’s voice was barely more than a whisper yet it contained such force that Takaar raised his head to see. ‘Often fatal if mishandled. Curious that one of you should be so blessed.’

  Ystormun reached out a hand and placed it on Takaar’s brow. Takaar’s face relaxed, his pain faded on the instant. He breathed deeply. Ystormun withdrew his hand and wiped it on his trousers. His gaze moved and came to rest on Auum.

  ‘TaiGethen,’ he said. ‘Impressive. Worthy of study. Perhaps one day I will create a force to rival you.’

  The sheer strength of Ystormun’s gaze forced Auum back a pace but he steadied and refused to blink.

  ‘We will never serve you.’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ said Ystormun. Auum tensed to strike but the mage lord merely laughed. ‘Save it. If the archer does not hit you, I cannot fail. Savour what is left of your life. Put up your blades.’

  Auum did so, though he didn’t know why.

  In the moments before the chaos unfolded, Helias sensed something. He had to have done because he was already moving when the archer’s arrow thudded into the ceiling and his body hit the floor. Ystormun was turning and moving towards Katyett and her cell. Marack had scrabbled to her feet. Takaar was shouting. Auum could see it and couldn’t stop it.

  ‘No, Katyett, no,’ shrieked Takaar.

  Katyett did not or would not hear him. She slid hard and fast across the polished timbers, her feet striking Ystormun’s ankles and upending him in a heap on the floor. Merrat and Grafyrre turned to defend the doorway from approaching soldiers. Katyett leapt on Ystormun, wrapping him in a crushing bear hug.

  ‘Got him,’ she said. ‘Got him.’

  ‘Kill him!’ cried Takaar, dragging a sword from his scabbard and running forward.

  ‘No. They told me downstairs. He’s the one we want. We need him alive. Help me.’

  Ystormun didn’t struggle. He merely reached a hand up to Katyett’s face and unleashed his black lightning. Katyett screamed as her face charred and split. Takaar howled and fell back, his hands about his head once more. Auum ran towards Katyett where she thrashed, her hold broken and her body smoking. Her hair caught fire.

  Marack threw her arms about Auum and bore him back.

  ‘No. You can’t help her. You can’t.’

  Merrat and Grafyrre had spun from the enemy at the door. They surged towards Ystormun but his free hand spat lightning at them, drawing dark tears in their faces and hands.

  ‘Get away!’ screamed Marack. ‘Get away!’

  Katyett was dead. Her body ruined and smouldering. Ystormun stood, his fingertips connecting his hands and the black light spitting and hissing within the cradle. Merrat and Grafyrre made to move in again.

  ‘Too late,’ said Ystormun. ‘Much too late.’

  Blackened hands reached out on the end of arms from which flesh had been melted back to the bone. They grasped at Ystormun’s ankles. Pulled. Tripped him. Ystormun fell, the lightning in his hands vanishing and a scream more bestial than human escaping his lips. Hithuur turned an eyeless face full of the desire for death on Auum.

  ‘Run,’ he croaked. ‘Run.’

  Ystormun was already climbing back to his feet. Already muttering under his breath. Auum saw Hithuur shake his head as the Tai thought to attack the mage lord. Something in the gesture chilled him so deeply he shuddered. Marack was shouting for them to run. Grafyrre and Merrat were staring at Ystormun. Takaar moved.

  He slid across the floor and scooped up Katyett’s body. He was up in the same movement and heading for the door. The corridor ahead was crowded with men. Takaar stopped and turned. Ystormun was smiling. Sildaan and Llyron were mute, cowering behind chairs. Grafyrre and Merrat were moving to guard Takaar. But there was nowhere to go.

  ‘Nails!’ screamed Marack. ‘Now!’

  There was the merest hesitation. Ystormun opened his hands. The doorway filled with swordsmen. Auum ran. He barrelled into Takaar as he stood, screaming Katyett’s name, and bore them both straight through the window, Marack and Katyett’s Tai right behind him. Takaar came back to himself as the window shattered across his back and he pushed away from Auum. He saw black lightning lick out of the shattered window and chase down the walls, cracking paintwork and splintering wood. He was spinning in the air. His next view was of the ground, rushing up fast. No time to get his feet under him.

  Takaar struck the ground on the tumble. He let go Katyett’s body. His shoulder took the first impact and he tucked his head in, rolling around his upper back. His momentum took him on. He came briefly to his feet, twisted, and on the next fall got his arms out over his head, turned a forward roll and came to a stop on his haunches.

  He stared back at Shorth. Katyett’s misguided actions had saved him. Saved all five of them. Pain rocked him. It surged through his body and in his heart. Ystormun’s words had confirmed what he had already begun to suspect. Faces appeared at the windows. Auum pulled him to his feet.

  Light filled the piazza and there was the sound of multiple detonations. Castings were striking the lawns and temples. Takaar moved to Katyett’s body and scooped it up again. He stared down at her face. It was burned, barely recognisable. He moved away a strand of hair. It powdered in his hand. He began to weep.

  ‘Takaar.’

  ‘Leave me.’

  There was nowhere else to go. Here was why he had returned. Here in his arms and stolen from him the moment he had found her again. Love for Katyett stormed his body. He would do anything for her. He would die for her.

  I’m sorry, what did you just say?

  ‘No.’ Auum’s grip on Takaar was strong and pulled him towards the piazza. ‘We need you. We’re attacked. What was it you said? Grieve now or make sure the deaths of those you have lost have worth?’

  Takaar stared at Auum. From the nails of Shorth, arrows flicked down.

  ‘I will not leave her to them. She deserves better than that.’

  ‘Then bring her but come on. We have to get out of here.’

  Arms were supporting him. Takaar looked. Merrat and Grafyrre. Marack was by Auum. The five of them, bruised from their landings, ran back into the piazza, keeping the windowless fa
ce of Shorth at their backs. Marack ran between Merrat and Grafyrre, whispering words to them, containing her own grief for their sake.

  Orbs of brown and green flame were soaring through the air. The lawns of the piazza were ablaze with magical fire. If bodies lay there, they were less than ashes. They kept to the edge of the lawns, in the partial shelter of the temples that ringed them. Every ward at the end of every passage between the temples had been triggered. Flames soared into the sky, trapping them inside and the men without.

  Takaar searched for the TaiGethen. They were there. Tucked into the awnings of Tual and Cefu and Appos. Some glancing down the approaches to the Path of Yniss. Forty yards away, the street was packed with men. Takaar’s heart fell. Ahead of the main force of soldiers, mages stood, preparing casting after casting. The noise in the piazza was deafening. Down the street, men clashed weapons, issuing a challenge.

  Marack ran to the nearest cell leader.

  ‘Why didn’t you go, Kerryn?’

  ‘Why would we do that? You were not ready,’ she replied.

  Kerryn looked at Takaar. Saw the body in his arms. She let out a sigh, part disbelief part pure grief.

  ‘The Arch of the TaiGethen has fallen!’ shouted Grafyrre. ‘Let your anger flow. Take revenge. There are men to be killed. Men are to blame.’

  ‘No,’ called Takaar, and he didn’t know why he had done so. They could hear him above the tumult of the spells and the fire, he knew they could. ‘We can’t waste our lives. To do so wastes Katyett’s too.’

  ‘But we have nothing!’ Merrat was screaming right into his face. ‘We have no hostage. We have no leader and we have no escape. All we have is vengeance.’

  Oh, how you must be enjoying this. You couldn’t have planned it better if you’d tried.

  Takaar stared briefly at the enemy forces not thirty yards distant and preparing to attack. Mages were falling back behind the lines of warriors. Someone had to speak to the TaiGethen, who were already praying for a glorious death.

  Yes. Speak to them. Give them the big speech and then fail them.

  Takaar’s heart was rippling, or so it felt. The sweat was on his brow and back and the tremors had reached his arms. His vision tunnelled. They were close. So very, very close. Soon they would roll over these pitiful few and the TaiGethen would be finished for ever.

  A quick elf, a lone elf, might get away. Unseen over the domes just beyond Tual. Too many would be seen and hunted down. Alone, you can make it. But only if you go now. Abandon that corpse in your arms. Do it. You must live. Someone must live to tell the tale of what happened here. You, Takaar. It has to be you.

  Tantalising. The climb wouldn’t even be hard. None would live to gainsay his version of events.

  Think of the tale of glory you could weave. An ula of your intelligence.

  Takaar walked forward beyond the first line of defenders already preparing for battle. Eyes followed him. Mistrustful eyes. Betrayed eyes. The TaiGethen possessed long memories and little room for forgiveness. Behind them, the temple doors had opened. Soldiers crowded the steps. Ystormun would be close.

  Takaar looked at his escape route. He looked up to the heavens. Gyal’s shroud was forging across the heavens. Shielding the eyes of the gods from the slaughter to come. Making the sky dark. It would rain hard enough to conceal an elf trying to escape his fate.

  Takaar looked at the spires and slender towers of the temple of Tual. The places for birds and monkeys to rest. Where lizards and insects could find shelter and safety within the city.

  No. Don’t even think about it.

  ‘I told you I got to choose,’ muttered Takaar. ‘Well I’ve chosen.’

  He lifted Katyett’s body above his head.

  ‘Will you let your Arch, your hero, go to Shorth with her death a waste? Tens of thousands of your people lie in their beds not even knowing that they are living their last. Aye, it is so. Extermination follows from the hands of men. We cannot let that happen. We cannot bargain so we must fight. We must free our people, any that we can. Even one life saved is a blessing on the elven race and a wound in the body of men. Because we must fear magic we must nullify it. You all know what we must do.

  ‘We are TaiGethen. Born to serve Yniss and our people. We do not serve him by laying down our lives to send a few worthless souls to Shorth. I’ll do it on my own if I must. But I will not leave our people to die. Not this time.’

  Takaar embraced Katyett to him, feeling her dead weight and the slackness in her limbs like a sword dragged slowly through his soul. He laid her inside the porch of Cefu, where the rain would not hurt her face.

  ‘I will not fail you again, my love. I will not.’

  I cannot believe what I am hearing.

  ‘Then go and listen to someone else.’

  Takaar ran at the human army of thousands. Thirty-seven TaiGethen came in his wake.

  Chapter 40

  A superiority in numbers is one thing, the element of surprise is quite another. Ystormun turned from the shattered windows. Hithuur was still breathing. Ystormun’s hand flicked out casually and a stalk of lightning buried itself in his forehead, cooking his brain. He looked over at movement to his right.

  ‘I see you managed to save your own skin, Helias. Good for you.’

  Helias bobbed his head looking like nothing more than a child’s toy, he was so pathetically grateful. Llyron and Sildaan were unscathed too. Remarkable. Ystormun moved swiftly to Llyron and grabbed her collars with one hand, pulling her upright and off the ground in a single powerful movement. She began to choke a little.

  ‘What will they try to do?’ he demanded.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Llyron.

  Ystormun felt a thrill of anger energise his tired body. ‘High Priest of Shorth, I have been knocked down twice. It will not happen a third time. You know them. Tell me where they will try to go even though my army is pressing every corner of this ridiculous gathering of temples.’

  ‘You killed their Arch,’ said Sildaan, emerging from her hiding place. ‘And they will kill you for that. But not tonight. Tonight they will seek to free those Hithuur told them were about to die.’

  ‘They have no chance. They are pitiful in number.’

  ‘You do not know them. You do not know their belief and their desire. And you do not know their speed and their skill. They will not try to beat you. Not tonight. But they will hurt you. That I promise.’

  Ystormun let Llyron go and the high priest collapsed to the floor, gasping in grateful breaths. He loomed over Sildaan, whom he could see still retained a little of her courage. Plenty of time to extinguish that.

  ‘You are free with your promises, Sildaan. How good of you to pledge so much to me. I will demonstrate my gratitude thus.’ Ystormun snapped his fingers and his aide, a mage of some small talent, came to his side. ‘Are we set?’

  The mage consulted a parchment he had been clutching in his hands.

  ‘Yes, my lord. The Ixii, the Gyalans, the Orrans, the Cefans and the identified militant Tuali are held and secure. The chosen places are the museum, two of the larger grain stores, a market square to the north of the city centre and the walled courtyard in front of Llyron’s mansion. None of the identified elves has a way out. We await only your word.’

  ‘Then the word is given,’ said Ystormun. He swung back to Sildaan. ‘There. See how easy it is?’

  ‘How easy what is?’

  Ystormun sighed. ‘And I thought you were supposed to be among the smarter of your race. Garan told me so, but perhaps respecting his judgement was my mistake. I do not have the manpower to enslave your entire race. Indeed to harvest the resources we want I frankly don’t need your entire race. Neither do I have the manpower, or the desire, to keep them imprisoned. Such a cost. Cruel too, to keep creatures that desire freedom under lock and key, don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Sildaan.

  ‘What I don’t want, I discard. That is the way to maximum efficiency, maximum prof
it and minimal chance of dissension.’ Ystormun watched Sildaan’s face crumple. He smiled. Power was such a wonderful thing to wield. ‘Ah, now you’re getting it. And since I do not want to risk any of my swordsmen getting injured during the process, I have asked my extremely talented and imaginative mages to carry out the procedure cleanly and quickly. This they can do at a distance. It’ll be painless too, which is a mercy I am happy to bestow.’

  Sildaan’s face was as pale as a sharp-ears face could get. Tears were spilling down her cheeks and she could only gasp out her words. Near her, Llyron was too stunned even to speak.

  ‘Please, my lord. You have imprisoned thirty thousand – iad, ula and child. Innocents.’

  ‘No elf is innocent,’ said Ystormun. He turned to his mage. ‘Is it really as many as thirty thousand?’

  ‘That’s a good estimate, my lord.’

  Ystormun raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, Sildaan, it’s fortunate that you have such a large forest in which to bury them all.’ The TaiGethen spread across the Path of Yniss, running hard at the human army. Grafyrre and Merrat were centre. Calling orders. Their grief and their passion ringing in every word. And the TaiGethen responded, chanting a mourning dirge as they came, the words echoing against the blank wall of nervous human soldiers.

  Takaar ran on their left, Auum and Marack flanking him. He could feel every one who ran as if they were touching him. Their energy, their faith and their belief. Their desire for purification and vengeance. Ahead, the human army was halted. Their line was forty abreast with room to wield their longswords, broadswords and shields.

  Behind the front ranks of swordsmen, mages cast. Brown and green orbs arced into the night sky, heading for the piazza. The mages raised their heads to see their handiwork only to be confronted by the onrushing TaiGethen. Orders were barked. Mage heads dropped in concentration again.

  Twenty yards to impact.

  ‘Jaqrui!’ called Grafyrre. Hands grabbed out crescent blades. ‘Away!’

  Takaar watched the deadly metal flash across the diminishing space. Shields were held out. Blades raised. Fear ran through the enemy. Takaar’s jaqrui slashed into the cheek of his target as he ducked and turned his head. Other crescents thudded into shields or careered from sword blades, shattering on walls or slicing into those behind. Most found flesh or leather armour.