Elves: Once Walked With Gods (21 page)

‘Fall back!’ shouted Pelyn. ‘Fall back to the doors.’

The enemy came at her. She was alone for the moment. Four of them with many more behind though her surviving warriors were closing, narrowing the breach with every heartbeat.

Pelyn drew a dagger with her left hand and moved into a fluid fighting position. Both blades were forward and she bent slightly at the waist to increase her reach while maintaining her balance. The quartet came at her in a rush. None had blades. One had a chain which she circled high over her head. A second carried a pickaxe that appeared too heavy for him. He was young yet, immature.

The chain wielder brought her weapon down overhead. Pelyn leapt back, thudding into the timbers of the gatehouse. She hadn’t realised she’d strayed so close. The chain struck sparks from the ground. Pelyn pushed herself off the wall and jabbed her dagger into the pickaxe chain-wielder’s gut, leaving it where it lodged. A hand raked in from the right. Pelyn swayed back, feeling nails tear into her cheek and across under her nose.

Pelyn slashed her blade out and right, feeling it glance off the Tuali’s skull, ripping his scalp open to the bone. The second unarmed elf hesitated. Pelyn straightened. The iad did not know what to do. Pelyn kicked out into her groin and battered the pommel of her blade into the back of the
iad
’s neck, sending her thudding onto the cobblestones, her head bouncing unpleasantly.

Pelyn turned to the pickaxe carrier. The Tuali youth was staring at a blade deep in his stomach right below the breastbone. Jakyn pulled his weapon clear and stared at Pelyn.

‘We were at school together,’ he said.

‘Well he didn’t listen well enough.’

‘Door’s open.’

Pelyn nodded. ‘Al-Arynaar. Disengage.’

The Al-Arynaar shoved forward and paced back, buying themselves a yard of space. The Tuali and Beethan alliance of convenience held. They paused for breath.

‘Into the warehouse. Now. Jakyn, the door.’

Pelyn and Jakyn rolled the big single door open. Jakyn ran to its other end, ready for his next order. Al-Arynaar sprinted in. The last four came in backwards, swords fencing away at the press of the enemy. One tripped over the rail. Beethan and Tuali ran inside.

‘Jakyn, close it.’

The youth pushed hard. The door slid quickly, beating into the body of an unlucky Tuali. The door bounced back a little. Al-Arynaar dragged her inside. Jakyn closed the door.

‘Brace it. Seal it. Anyhow.’

Jakyn kept his weight on the door, which juddered with the blows of the enemy without. Al-Arynaar were at work on the inside bolts. Others killed the enemy inside. A moment’s respite.

‘We won’t stop them getting in for long,’ said Jakyn.

‘Then let’s find ourselves a way out,’ said Pelyn.

‘If there was one, surely they’d have entered through it by now,’ said a warrior.

‘You’re thinking too big.’

Pelyn turned away from the door, which was heaving under blow after blow. Axeheads were already biting through its timbers. The warehouse was huge. Racks stood against each wall and ran away for a hundred yards in six columns. They carried pretty much every conceivable item of any use to the city. Meticulously laid out and organised. Such was the mind of the harbour master.

From ship’s masts, anchors, hawsers, sheets and sails, through every kind of pot, plate, mug and server in tin and clay, through a myriad plumbing and guttering joints, through carts, saddles, yokes, barrels, hoops, locks, keys, medical supplies . . . You could wander the shelves, racks and nets for ever.

But the prize lay on shelves to the right, above nets so the mice and rats could not gain access. Tons of it. Food. Dried, sealed and preserved. Meat, fruit, grain and rice for the most part. Barrel after barrel of wine and spirits. Endless pots of dried herbs. Emergency supplies to keep the city alive in the most extreme of times. Times like now.

Pelyn stared at it all and weighed the measure of her failure. Not enough Al-Arynaar to keep the main supplies safe. Supplies they’d all assumed burned in the first hours after the denouncement that were going to be utterly vital in the days to come. Hours when she had focused all her energy on keeping the temple of Yniss safe. Another failure.

The timbers of the door were beginning to weaken. Pelyn’s people backed off, bodies tense, hands gripping swords nervously. Those they had protected only yesterday were ready to rip the faces from their skulls. How had it come to this? Pelyn shook her head. The Al-Arynaar were no more than a guerrilla force and the ringleaders of all this knew it. Just like they knew what the TaiGethen would do if the Ynissul were put under threat.

High above, on the gantry built to maintain the roof of the warehouse, were a number of skylights. Pelyn pointed up.

‘Get lengths of rope and get climbing. Our way out is not going to come to us.’

Chapter 17

Patience wins more battles than courage and strength combined.

Katyett felt as if she was going to collapse. She sensed a rush of heat across her body and deep in the pit of her stomach. Her feet tingled and her breath gasped in. Of all the things she might have expected the priest to say, that was the most inconceivable.

‘What sort of madness is that?’ she managed eventually.

She didn’t know if she was thrilled or furious. Didn’t know what to feel. But whatever it was, it had sent her pulse soaring. Takaar. The prospect of seeing him again made her shiver. Memories of his face fell through her mind so real she could grasp at them.

‘It is a chance we have to take.’

‘Who made this decision?’

‘In the rainforest there are no councils,’ said Serrin evenly.

Katyett shook her head, trying to clear the buzzing and fog that encased it.

‘You and Auum have taken this massive risk on behalf of us all?’

‘Auum is acting on my order.’

‘How will he find Takaar, assuming there is anything to find?’

Serrin smiled a little indulgently. ‘Takaar spoke to the priesthood before he went into exile.’

Katyett nodded. ‘I see.’

‘I’m sure you don’t.’

‘Don’t patronise me,’ she snapped.

‘I am sorry, Katyett. I meant no offence.’

Katyett sighed. ‘Me too, my priest. You have taken me completely unawares.’

‘It is not often I do that to a TaiGethen, least of all their leader.’

‘I just don’t understand what good this can possibly do.’

‘You say you have no way to revive the harmony if the threads separate. I’m giving you that way.’

Katyett scoffed. ‘You think he’ll be accepted like he was before? You’re out of touch, Serrin. I can’t even say all the TaiGethen will embrace him. The populace of Calaius certainly won’t. Most of them were born here and have no real knowledge of the influence and charisma he used to wield. And those that do remember, hate him for all the lives he sacrificed. Auum is wasting his time.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way. And I think you are mistaken.’

‘Well, we’re going to find out, aren’t we? Just what exactly did you have in mind? Parading him through the streets of Ysundeneth with an honour guard of TaiGethen and any Al-Arynaar who survive that long? Or perhaps you think he might head an army to sweep the invading men and their magic from our shores. All we need now is an army.’

Serrin made to retort but thought better of it.

‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ said Serrin instead. ‘You of all people.’

Katyett almost laughed but she had no wish to insult Serrin further.

‘Takaar literally ran out of my life ten years ago, Priest Serrin. I’ve spent those ten years trying to get used to the idea that I would never see him again and that the ula I swore my loyalty to, that I loved so utterly, had failed our entire race. I had just about reached a place where I could move on, where I could consider a union with another. An Ynissul ula because my offspring must have the opportunity to join the TaiGethen.

‘I was already confused, Serrin. Proud of what Takaar achieved and hating him because his cowardice triggered all we now face. Now this. You want to bring him back. In the face of all that is sane you want an elf ten years in exile to return and save us all. It cannot work. It cannot.’

‘It cannot or you don’t want it to?’

‘That is an unworthy comment.’

Serrin contemplated her again. There was no apology in his eyes this time.

‘We must attempt every means. I do not have to see the streets of Ysundeneth to know how desperate the situation is. I have seen enough of the nature of elves to know the depths to which some will descend.’

‘Will? Some already have.’

‘Rape will seem insignificant unless we can turn the tide. I have no desire to relive some of the things I witnessed on Hausolis.’

It was easy to forget how old Serrin was. So youthful of face. So at ease in the rainforest.

‘I’ll do all I can.’

‘That has never been in doubt, Katyett.’

‘So what’s next? The rest will look to you for leadership, you know that.’

‘I am uncomfortable with the thought,’ said Serrin. ‘But I will do my best. We must do as we said. Secure the Ynissul and bring Takaar to the city.’

‘I’ll bring him,’ said Katyett. ‘He is my Arch. It is my responsibility.’

‘Not this time. I will go. I promised Auum. Don’t worry. This will work.’

Serrin kissed Katyett’s eyes and moved swiftly out of the Ultan. Katyett stared after him, wondering how in Yniss’s name she was going to relate the news to her people. Wondering if her conversation with Serrin could possibly have taken place.

The door to the warehouse was forced open and elves poured in, scattering through the huge space. Pelyn almost felt sorry for them. Still Tuali and Beethan fought each other though they stood amidst plunder that would see both through the next hundred days at least.

The eighteen surviving Al-Arynaar had been quick, taking ship’s rope and climbing high into the roof of the warehouse. Ladders to the gantry had been destroyed. They were safe enough up here. Safer than in much of Ysundeneth.

‘Look at them,’ said Pelyn.

‘Just think what it’ll be like when the food really does run out,’ said Jakyn.

‘This conflict won’t last that long. And if it does, the TaiGethen will be waiting for them in the eaves of the forest.’ Pelyn shuddered at the thought. ‘Come on, let’s get back to the beetle. Methian was right. We need to muster our people. What’s left of them.’

Above their heads, two skylights had been opened and ropes laid from the gantry bars all the way down to the ground at the far end of the warehouse. Even when Pelyn had paused to spit down, none of them below had looked up. So intent were they on their prize and their hate for each other, they had not paused to wonder where their common enemy had gone.

Halfway to the beetle, she could still hear them. Pelyn kept her pace high, trotting much of the way from the packed dockside housing and only slackening off when they reached the first parades of shops and one of the minor fresh goods market squares. From here, the Gardaryn was a short walk and she slowed to listen to the sounds of the city as it grew further into wakefulness.

Rain had begun to fall, but it was light and blown like a fine mist on an onshore breeze. The sight of those sails a day or so out from the harbour entered her mind. Whoever they were, if their intent was invasion or to raid the city, they weren’t going to be facing concerted resistance. They couldn’t have timed their arrival better if they’d . . .

Pelyn broke into a run.

‘Come on. With me, Al-Arynaar.’

She sprinted across the square, down Sailmakers’ Row and across the deserted Park of Renewal, in which several fires still smouldered in defiance of the rain, which was falling more heavily now. She tore down Beeth’s Crescent and into the southern piazza. The Gardaryn still stood open. Her people still stood guard outside it.

‘Yniss bless us, we aren’t too late.’

Jakyn fell in beside her. ‘Arch Pelyn?’

‘Not now, Jakyn. I’ve just worked this all out. We can win this. We really can. All of you, with me. Come listen to what I have to say inside. Quickly.’

Pelyn ran up the steps and into the Gardaryn. She headed across the chamber and over the stage into the offices behind, her warriors following her. She glanced into every chamber she passed, pulling up short at the central records offices, where Methian and three other Gyalan Al-Arynaar were still sifting through the sea of papers strewn about the floor. Some semblance of order had been returned under the eye of the veteran. He looked up, surprised at her sudden appearance.

‘Pelyn? I assume the warehouse has been taken.’

‘Aye, but they’ll be slaughtering each other over its contents for the rest of the day.’

‘Shorth take the lot of them,’ said Methian. He looked past her at the faces crowding in behind her. ‘Brought me some help?’

‘No,’ she said and stepped inside the office, turning a circle as she spoke. ‘Listen to me, all of you. And get the word out to the Al-Arynaar at every post and station in the city. I want a muster in one hour at the barracks training grounds. If they aren’t dead or dying, tell them to be there. If their belief is wavering, tell them to be there and I’ll tell them why we are still going to return peace to our city.

‘Now listen. We may not have a lot of time. There are a dozen ships heading this way. They’ll be landing probably before dawn tomorrow. Whoever is on board has come to fight. To take the city. But think on this. Their arrival cannot possibly be a coincidence. They have been advised when to get here, and that can only be because people here in Ysundeneth have sent them word. I’ll bet any of you a hundred days’ pay that they were anchored less than two days from here. Probably at the Casolian Inlet.’

‘I don’t understand how this will help,’ said Jakyn. ‘Twelve ships full of fighters. If they’ve really crammed them in, there could be five hundred on board. That’s more than enough to take this city. We have less than half that.’

Methian put a finger to his lips. ‘Shh now, young reverent. The ships are only one side of this coin.’

Pelyn smiled. ‘So they are, Methian. But your question is good, Jakyn. Keep thinking and you’ll live through this. Five hundred, you say? Could easily be as many as seven hundred. And they could be bringing the magic with them that killed Jarinn and Lorius and crippled poor Olmaat.