Elves: Once Walked With Gods (36 page)

‘Should we not free all these beneath our feet? Cause some mayhem at the very least.’

‘Not tonight, Graf. We have some brief time. Releasing them now would not achieve what we want. Most would be recaptured before the real problem hits, and that helps no one. And the humans would be alerted to the fact that their perimeter security is poor. We need to pick ourselves a time between now and the moment the humans burn this place to the ground.’

‘When will that be, Katyett?’

Katyett stared out into the ocean. The moonlight was strong but she didn’t really need it to see. A lot of sails were coming. Fifty at least. Perhaps two thousand more men from the north with their muscle and their magic.

‘The wind has backed. It’s offshore now and likely to remain so for days,’ said Katyett. ‘They’ll be in the harbour in two days, maybe three. It is then that captives like all those beneath us will become mere irritation. Make no mistake. Men have come here to conquer.’

‘So what now?’ asked Merrat.

‘Now we go and do some damage to a guard post or two and relate what we’ve seen to Pelyn. But more than all of that, we pray Takaar is not dead and that when he arrives, he has all the answers.’

Chapter 30

A more numerous enemy is wasteful and complacent. There is nothing to be despised more than waste.

Takaar’s unpredictable state had led them to rush. To ignore just one of the central rules of travelling the rainforest at speed. So basic and so important. Look where you are treading. Auum did not and he stepped on a branch which moved beneath him. Serrin did not and the branch snapped under him.

The Silent Priest’s weight was thrown forward but his left leg was trapped in a mesh of undergrowth and root. He twisted as he fell, his knee wrenching sideways, his calf and foot locked in place for a heartbeat too long. His cry was akin to the howl of one of Tual’s denizens in distress. He tumbled partway down a rise, sliding to a stop, screaming once again before regaining control of himself.

When Takaar and Auum reached him, he was sitting up. Serrin’s breathing was deliberate, deep and slow. His eyes were closed and his mouth was moving, his words of prayer private. His hands were on his knee, probing gently. He winced with almost every touch.

Auum felt an immediate relief that there was no obvious break. The leg was not twisted; there were no lumps beneath the skin indicative of broken bone pressing against the surface. But the damage was obviously severe enough. Swelling had already begun all around the joint. Tendon, ligament, muscle - all would have been torn. It only remained a question of how much delay the injury meant to their journey.

Takaar was already burrowing into the fisherman’s bag. The stench of previous contents would attract scavengers from all directions. He fetched out a large pot, untied the lid and scooped a soft green paste onto his fingers.

‘Escobilla,’ he said by way of explanation and began to rub it gently into the knee. Serrin sighed as the salve penetrated his skin. ‘Normally best as a tea you can use to bathe wounds, but you know that already. I’ve found you can make a paste with careful reduction and endless pounding of leaves. Works better. Gets to the pain faster and it’s better at reducing swelling.’

‘It works,’ managed Serrin. ‘Leave it with me.’

‘Sorry, my priest. Nice try but we’re not leaving you here,’ said Auum. ‘You can’t run and you can’t fight. Every predator within five miles will have heard your pain. We’ll make you a crutch or a stretcher.’

‘No time,’ said Serrin.

‘A TaiGethen may not leave the helpless to die,’ said Auum.

‘O paradox,’ said Takaar, his expression mischievous and gleeful. ‘Leave him helpless to die or delay your journey to our people and so consign how many more of the helpless to death?’

‘The Silent are friends of Tual’s denizens.’ Serrin gasped a breath as he dared to move his damaged leg. ‘I will be safe.’

Auum had heard the stories. Silent Priests defended from attack by panthers. Snakes that didn’t inject venom when they struck. Scorpions relaxing their tails. He didn’t believe them but it was hard not to be swayed by the sheer force of Serrin’s faith.

‘Strap him to immobilise the knee. Make him a crutch and we must go,’ said Takaar. ‘He knows. Others’ needs are greater than his.’

Auum stared at Takaar, hating his perverse enjoyment of the situation.

‘Look at me,’ said Serrin.

Auum hesitated, knowing what Serrin was about to say. But he didn’t make the Silent Priest repeat himself.

‘You know he’s right, don’t you?’ said Serrin.

The forest seemed to have quietened around them and Serrin’s quiet voice sounded over-loud in Auum’s ears.

‘I know he finds my discomfort amusing and presumably feels the same way about your pain.’

‘But you know he’s right, don’t you?’ Auum nodded his head fractionally. ‘So do as he suggests. I will survive.’

‘You understand why I find this difficult,’ said Auum.

‘I would feel slighted if you didn’t. Auum, come closer. I have no desire to exercise my voice any more than I must.’

Auum crouched right in front of his mentor. ‘You’re going to release me from my duties.’

‘I am not so formal,’ said Serrin. ‘Or stupid. Just listen to me. I believe this accident has happened for a reason.’

Auum couldn’t help it. He rolled his eyes and made to turn his head away. Serrin’s long-fingered hands caught his cheeks, his fingernails caressing his ears.

‘Listen. Yniss is not as passive as you believe and Beeth’s root gave beneath me, not you. I feel the hand of Yniss guiding that of Beeth. Change is here. Such change as we have not felt since the end of the War of Bloods. The Silent have felt it most deeply. We have always been uneasy in the company of others, and though I was prepared to travel with you, the pain of what was to come was growing within me.

‘And now here I sit, unable to walk, unable to help. For me the decision has been made. For others of my calling, minds are in turmoil and desires clash with obligation. Free them if you find them as I find myself free now.’

Auum shook his head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The Silent are changed. I am changed. The rainforest is my home. It is my soul. The place where I will serve Yniss and tend to Tual’s creatures and Beeth’s root and branch. No longer will I leave the canopy. Not to enter a settlement, not to enter a temple. Not even Aryndeneth. I belong alone. Let me go.’

Auum felt tears edging his eyes. ‘If it is what you truly desire.’

Serrin smiled and smoothed Auum’s cheeks as he let them go. ‘It is. And it is what we all desire if we look within ourselves. Help those you meet to make the choice.’

‘Of course.’

‘Bless you in your work, Auum. The harmony will prosper while such as you are among its champions. And remember, whatever happens in the cities, the forest belongs to elves who understand harmony, balance and the intertwining of all things.’

Auum leant in and kissed Serrin’s lips and eyes. He stood. ‘I’d best set about that crutch.’

He turned away before his tears began to spill.

Katyett brought her Tai to the city perimeter for a third night and to a third entry point. Makran’s cell ran ahead of them, heading for the guard posts either end of the Ultan bridge before moving onto the farmland before the city proper to clear scout targets for the following night.

Katyett could see them moving along the bamboo shroud that marked the banks of the treacherous piranha- and crocodile-haunted River Ix. She brought Merrat and Grafyrre to a position deep in the long grass to the left of the trodden path to the Ultan.

‘We’ll run in straight after them. Take the marsh path in.’ She turned. ‘Pakiir, Faleen, Marack. Wait for us to clear the bridge. Stay hidden. Scout your targets. No combat.’

So far, they had kept their incursions quiet. Killing guards and mages in small numbers to keep the invasion force on edge. Keeping themselves out of sight. Tonight, it all had to change. The wind had backed again, aiding the approaching ships. They would make land some time during the next day. Enemies of the harmony or not, Katyett would not leave elves helpless against humans.

Two guards stood at the near end of the bridge, leaning against one of the main support piles. Great banyan timbers, sunk deep into the ground and carved with vines and leaves climbing the trunk of a tree. Their swords were in their hands and they tested their heft occasionally, swinging the blades from side to side.

They were talking, gesturing and laughing, but their eyes remained fixed on the night beyond the torches and lanterns hung from the bridge. The twittering of night birds and the rasp of myriad insects drowned out their voices. They were keen to show off their nonchalance to each other but there was fear in their bodies.

At the far end of the bridge three guards and a mage were gathered around a cook fire just to the left of the piles. Two, one of them the mage, were seated on logs. The other two stood, looking alternately out along the bridge and into the conversation.

Makran turned and made a hand signal. Katyett gestured back. Makran’s Tai broke from cover, three shadows flowing through the grass, graceful as panthers. Heading for the light and the men who had no idea they were about to die. Makran led her Tai towards the mouth of the bridge.

The men had sensed something, perhaps seen slight movements in the grass beyond the circle of light. They came together, swords gripped tighter, staring out. Makran burst onto the path a couple of paces before the first timbers of the bridge. The men backed off. One smiled.

And Makran was engulfed in flame.

The sound of her screams and those of her Tai would live with Katyett for ever. A wall of fire climbed into the air, catching the three TaiGethen, immolating them in moments. Fire ate into their flesh, scorched the clothes from their backs and melted the iron of their belts and scabbard harnesses.

They staggered on, their momentum carrying them a few dreadful agonised and dying steps forward. Nothing but walking skeletons, screaming their agony, calling for Shorth to give them succour. They collapsed on the bridge. Makran, Katyett thought it was Makran, raised a hand towards them. Katyett thought she heard her sister say ‘please’. The men just watched. Offering nothing. Not even a blade to end the torment.

The flames roared unchecked into the sky. Katyett stared at them. No mage had cast this. It was as if it had been waiting in the earth for Makran to trigger. Like a tripwire in the forest to snare a tapir. Death invisible.

‘What do we do?’ asked Grafyrre.

Katyett turned to her Tai, both with eyes wide with shock. ‘Walk only where they walk. Run on the edges. And make the humans pay for what they did to Makran. Marack, your orders stand. Tai, with me.’

Katyett was up and sprinting the next instant. She headed for the bamboo shroud running perpendicular to the end of the bridge, her eyes on the flames, her prayers to Yniss keen with every step she took. Katyett leapt, feet first and horizontal.

She caught a corner of the carved pile and pivoted around it and over the rail, her boots slamming into the back of the nearest guard, propelling him off the bridge to tumble down the slope. He rolled straight into the flames to be consumed like the TaiGethen he had refused to help.

Behind Katyett, Merrat hurdled the rail. She ran the width of the bridge and delivered a left hook to the second guard’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back. He fell back against the rail and toppled down into the river.

Grafyrre landed on the rail, turned and began to run down its length. Merrat mirrored him. Katyett took the centre. The three remaining guards moved to block the exit, the mage behind them already gesturing in the air. Katyett took a jaqrui from her belt pouch and threw it on the run. The sickle-shaped blade mourned away. It sliced into the sword arm of the centremost guard. He cried out and dropped his weapon, clutching at the blood flowing from the deep clean cut.

At a command from the mage, the guards dropped to a crouch. The air chilled. The mage pushed out his hands. Katyett yelled a warning and fell prone, her momentum setting her rolling, her arms tucked into her chest, fists either side of her neck. Merrat and Grafyrre leapt high as they ran, turning rolls into the sky before flattening their bodies horizontal, arms stretched out to the sides.

The casting howled over Katyett’s body. She gasped freezing air. Behind her, wood became thick with ice. She heard the cracking of timbers as moisture froze and expanded within them. She rolled on another turn before slapping her left palm down to push herself up. She came up, still turning, found her feet and strode on. Merrat and Grafyrre landed either side.

Ahead, the guards swallowed, not believing what they had just seen. It was not something they would tell friends or lovers. Katyett pulled out a short blade and swung it two-handed, chopping into the neck of the injured man, feeling the edge grind against bone.

She leapt over his falling body, leaving the sword where it had stuck and closing on the mage. He was trying to form another casting but the fear in him was too great. He held out his hands in supplication. Katyett knocked them aside with her left arm and crashed her right fist into the point of his jaw. He crumpled down and back.

Katyett turned. Merrat and Grafyrre were walking past their victims. Blood dripped from blades. Merrat paused to work Katyett’s sword from the neck of her kill. He wiped it on the grass and handed it to her. Katyett glanced back down the bridge. Marack was kneeling by the bodies of Makran and her Tai, praying.

‘We need to move. This won’t have gone unnoticed,’ said Katyett. She nodded at the mage. ‘Bring him. He has a lot to answer. Let’s go.’

The main road into the city from the bridge drove straight through cleared and cultivated land and passed the river fishing fleet, their jetties, marina and a ramshackle assortment of huts and shelters. They wound their way deep into the maze of buildings and businesses that served the fleet. Boatbuilding and repair yards, sail and oar makers, crab catchers, eateries, inns and the local marketplace.