Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (14 page)

In the immediate landscape there was little but grass growing on gentle rolling rises that led away to the south and east. There were isolated stands of trees and the occasional group of
buildings of human design but not a great deal else. Auum could see the lights of Jaden and the mass of buildings that made up the town. Julatsa was too distant to see, but the smoke and dust
smudging the night sky almost directly south gave away the besieged city’s location.

But the dominant feature was the Blackthorne Mountains, which rose from the far side of the inlet where the land met the sea. They grew steep and impenetrable and fled away south, great
sentinels of rock capped in white, dividing east from west in the most spectacular manner.

It was an extraordinary natural feature, and either side of it two peoples had grown to be such entrenched enemies that, if Stein was to be believed, only the extermination of one would satisfy
the other. Or perhaps it was just humans who desired the extermination of any challenge to their assumptions of authority and ownership.

Auum looked around at his people gathered on the rise and staring out at the new land. A hundred and five TaiGethen, a hundred and thirty Il-Aryn, twelve Senserii and Takaar stood with their
backs to the chill wind blowing off the mountains.

‘We need a place out of the wind to rest and eat,’ said Auum. ‘Are these buildings I can see inhabited?’

‘I’m not an expert on every farmstead, Auum,’ said Stein. ‘But I doubt there’s anyone there at the moment. A significant Wesman force landed in the inlet for the
siege, and I guess most isolated farms got burned out. Any smart farmer will have run to Jaden, which so far, has been left alone.’

‘Let’s start there,’ said Auum, turning to face his people. ‘A short walk and we hope to find a place to rest and eat. This place feels strange and smells stranger. Look
to your brothers, sisters and your gods for strength. Faleen, Merrat, Grafyrre, take your cells and scout the route. We’ll follow on. TaiGethen will walk the flanks and secure our rear.
Il-Aryn, look to Drech for your orders but stay within the warrior corridor. Let’s move.’

Every step into the belly of Balaia hunched the elves’ shoulders a little more. The TaiGethen were the worst affected. The sky was vast and the star field glittered down
untainted by cloud or canopy. There was no cover and no prospect of cover. On board a ship an elf could go below, but here there was no hiding.

They’d come upon the trail left by the Wesmen on their way to Julatsa shortly after leaving the inlet. A churned path through the grass consisting of wheel ruts, boot and hoof prints was
spread with debris. It was about ten days old and Stein had not liked the scouts’ answer when he’d asked how many might have marched along it.

They were sitting at the farmstead now, or what was left of it. The Wesmen had killed those they’d found, torched it and taken any livestock. The elves had moved three bodies and laid them
downwind for reclamation, tucked under some low hardy bushes. The ground was charred to bare earth, and though the fires had not taken all of the stone walls down, there was no roof on any of the
buildings. No cover.

Auum had set a perimeter, placed guards at key points and brought everyone else in to rest as best they could. Fires had been lit and food prepared. Many were asleep, but Auum sat with a few of
his closest. Stein was with them, a welcome guest and proving himself of good humour when tested.

‘Admit it, it is always this cold, isn’t it?’ said Merrat.

‘No, it isn’t.’ Stein glanced to the heavens. ‘But this is autumn and the wind can be chilly. You should come here in summer and see the land then. Covered in colour,
crops swaying in the warm breeze, the leaves on the trees green and—’

‘You have trees?’ asked Marack, her voice breathless, her expression one of wide-eyed surprise.

‘Yes,’ said Stein carefully.

‘Do you put them away at night, perhaps?’ suggested Grafyrre.

Stein smiled. ‘No, they’re a little big for that.’

‘But perhaps you can count them all quickly, on account of there being so few of them,’ said Grafyrre.

Stein laughed. ‘Yes. It’s something I do on a daily basis.’

‘When you’re done counting to eight, what do you do for the rest of the day?’ asked Ulysan.

‘Get my axe and cut one down to make the job easier tomorrow,’ said Stein.

The elves roared with laughter. Auum clapped his hands. Takaar, who was seated surrounded by his Senserii like some visiting dignitary in hostile lands, turned his head for long enough to look
down his nose at them.

‘Very good,’ said Auum, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. ‘Since you know all about trees, how many are there between here and Julatsa?’

Stein raised his eyebrows. ‘There’s not much of anything between here and Julatsa. Just loads of those beautiful rolling hills then a good deal of flat open ground. Even you
can’t get to the enemy unnoticed.’

‘We’ll find a way,’ said Auum.

‘What do they want?’ asked Faleen.

‘Who? The Wesmen or the Wytch Lords?’

‘Whoever,’ she said. ‘Why are they at the walls of Julatsa?’

‘There’s a short answer and a slightly longer answer,’ said Stein.

‘And they’re different?’

Auum looked around his group, seeing them hanging on Stein’s every word. That was a first in elven history. Auum had to remind himself that Stein was an exception among humans.

‘Actually, yes. Will you indulge me?’

Auum smiled. ‘I think you have everyone’s attention for now.’

‘But don’t get boring,’ said Ulysan. ‘No history lectures.’

‘I’ll do my best. The short answer is: they’re there because the Wytch Lords have ordered them to be there. Very simple and straightforward. But the Wesmen themselves have
coveted the eastern lands, my lands, for hundreds if not thousands of years. The other side of the mountains is barren for the most part. The ground is rocky and living is tough.

‘So they want our lands, and I don’t blame them, but what they hate most is our magic. They have none themselves and they see it as the barrier to their victory over the east. The
Wesmen have long desired the destruction of human magic, and the Wytch Lords are promising them that. The irony, of course, is that they are merely trading one dominant magic for
another.’

‘I don’t think I’m following this,’ said Marack. ‘We’ve already fought these Wesmen and they are brave and organised people. They aren’t savages. Why
would they put themselves in the Wytch Lords’ thrall?’

‘At the risk of lecturing, it’s not a choice that the tribal lords would have made. Their belief is in strength of arms and numbers. But there is an uneasy relationship between the
tribes and their shamen. The tribes are riven with infighting, and this has been their weakness for as long as anyone can remember. Occasionally a lord will rise with the strength to lead a
significant alliance, but for the most part it is the shamen who talk to each other, practise their revolting spirit religion together and seek influence beyond the spheres of their own tribes.
They were easy prey for the Wytch Lords and once the shamen were seduced, forcing the Wesmen to fight for them was relatively easy, though not all have bent the knee.’

There was a silence. Auum glanced across at Takaar and knew he was listening too. There was an oddly bright expression on his face, as if he’d had some sort of revelation. Auum suddenly
felt just a little bit uneasy and he could see at least Marack and Ulysan were thinking much the same.

‘Seems to me we might be fighting on the wrong side,’ said Auum, keeping a smile firmly on his face. ‘After all, you lot losing your capacity to cast would help us out
enormously, don’t you think?’

Stein laughed but he shifted uncomfortably. ‘Want to side with the Wytch Lords, now do you?’

‘No, I want to see each of Ystormun’s bones in the mouth of a separate panther but the Wesmen warriors . . . well we seem to have more in common with them than with you, don’t
you think?’

Stein frowned, his discomfort gone and his usual confidence returned. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘We’ve both suffered at the hands of human magic. We both find that others amongst us practise magic against our better judgement, and while we grudgingly accept it has occasional
benefits, we wish magic remained a rumour.’

Stein nodded. ‘It makes me sad to hear that, but I know why you feel that way.’

‘You have absolutely no idea at all,’ snapped Auum.

‘Forgive me,’ said Stein. ‘Your first experience of magic was of the appalling damage it can do. But there is so much more to magic than that. Your own Il-Aryn display healing,
beneficial and defensive qualities that I would die to understand, let alone wield. And Julatsan magic is based on peace, although we fight when we must.

‘I’m sorry your view is tainted. Perhaps I can persuade you otherwise while you’re here.’

‘Good luck with that,’ said Ulysan.

‘As usual, Auum sees only what he wants to see and ignores that which is uncomfortable,’ said Takaar, walking into the firelight.

‘Always the grand entrance, Takaar,’ said Auum, feeling his muscles tighten and his mellow mood slip away. ‘Aren’t you tired from all that talking to yourself?’

Auum felt Ulysan grip his arm and he shook it off.

‘Don’t do this,’ whispered Ulysan. ‘You know he’s trying to goad you.’

‘He shouldn’t even be here,’ hissed Auum. ‘He puts the whole expedition on edge.’

‘Why won’t you accept what you are?’ asked Takaar, his face, his whole body imploring.

Auum folded his arms across his knees. ‘I have never had any trouble doing so.’

‘You cannot escape the Il-Aryn energies,’ said Takaar. ‘None of us can. It is what makes us.’

‘Go back to your campfire and your Senserii. Long day’s walk tomorrow.’

‘Don’t you remember, all those centuries ago, what we talked about in the forest outside Katura?’

Auum dropped his gaze. He remembered. The grief had overwhelmed him. Elyss had been murdered in front of his eyes and he had exacted revenge but not understood how. Takaar had told him.

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

Auum was uncomfortable, the eyes of his people on him now.

‘I told you then: every elf has the energies running through them, but not all realise this and fewer still can harness them.’

Auum shrugged. ‘What of it?’

Takaar laughed. ‘And still you refuse to see? Ystormun was searching for the answer with all his experiments on Garan and he failed to grasp the most basic fact. Don’t be as ignorant
as him.’

‘Be careful where you tread,’ muttered Ulysan.

‘You are a faithful lieutenant, Ulysan, and his denial is your denial.’

‘I’m tired, Takaar. Make your point and go away.’

Takaar smiled in the superior way he used when he felt he was imparting something of great importance to the unenlightened.

‘You hate magic but you
are
magic.’

Auum blinked slowly. ‘You don’t get any better, do you?’

‘Every elf carries the Il-Aryn with them; all are inherently magical. It is what gives us our long life. I manifest my energies as an Il-Aryn master, you manifest yours, as do all of the
TaiGethen, through your speed of thought and body.’

Auum surged to his feet and marched across to Takaar.

‘How dare you denigrate the gifts of my god? Our god! Yniss bestowed upon us all that we are. He blessed us with the abilities we display. This is not magic, it is faith and it is strength
of body. It is belief and it is the work of centuries. We are one with the land because it is the place of our birth. No magic runs through my blood or guides my hand.’

Auum pushed Takaar hard but the mad elf did not stumble.

‘You cannot deny what you are.’

‘I do not,’ snarled Auum. ‘I am born of Yniss and that is my glory, that is who I am. Take your heresy and get out of my sight.’

He pushed Takaar again and heard the Senserii stand and fan out. The TaiGethen did the same.

Auum shook his head. ‘Sit down, Gilderon. I’ll not hurt him. His words do that for him. Just keep him away from me.’

‘You will work it out one day,’ said Takaar, apparently oblivious to Auum’s anger. ‘I don’t expect thanks when you do.’

Auum stared at him, seeing his wild eyes flicking around, unable to settle as the battle in his mind played out yet again.

‘Then you’ll not be disappointed, will you?’

Auum turned his back and waved his TaiGethen to sit down, but he could not. Waving away Ulysan’s offer of company, he walked out into the night to be alone.

Auum carried his mood into the morning. The first sight of the colours of Balaia in daylight had not improved his temper. The Blackthorne Mountains were an oppressive force
always in the periphery of his right eye, lowering down. The grass Stein had described as beautiful on the rolling hills was a coarse knee-high pale green plant equally poor for walking through and
hiding in.

There were trees dotted here and there, but their scarcity was shocking and what there were had thin trunks, small leaves and looked fit to keel over at the merest push. The dominant ground
feature was the Wesmen’s path driving straight for Julatsa. By midmorning they could see the city on the horizon, though it was largely obscured by dust and smoke.

Without Communion there was no information from inside the city, but reports from Auum’s scouts painted a bleak picture. Around five thousand Wesmen backed by shamen had encircled Julatsa.
Stein’s face was grey with worry and his appetite for food at the midday break was much diminished. Auum knew just how he felt.

‘Vaart has noted cracks in the walls either side of the south-facing gates, and that’s where the majority of the pressure is being exerted. Some damage is being done by the defenders
but the black fire has good range,’ said Ulysan.