Elves: Once Walked With Gods (52 page)

They began to fall.

‘Up!’ Auum’s shout was taken up by every TaiGethen at once. ‘Up and run. Now.’

Auum pushed himself to his feet. A timber thumped to the ground where he had been lying. It splintered. He felt shards rip into his trousers and lodge in his legs. He stumbled and steadied. Auum ran from iad to ula. Dragging them up, pushing them towards the north. Towards Takaar.

Quickly, the movement gained a momentum of its own. Auum turned. Pelyn was racing past him. He followed her direction. Men were forming up again. Running back into the square. Just a thin line.

‘TaiGethen.’ The blessed sound of Grafyrre’s voice. ‘Make a path. Apposans to the rear. Tais, we move.’

Yniss’s elite came together. Fewer now. Of Thrynn there was no sign. Nor Corsaar. But Merrat ran with Grafyrre. Marack, blood pouring from a wound in her forehead, fell in beside Auum and Pelyn. They simply ran at the growing line of men and took their revenge for the death of their Arch, their friend. Their sister.

Men were calling orders. Archers were running in from the right. Mages, those that could, were moving up behind the swordsmen. Auum feinted to swing at the man in front of him. The soldier flinched. Auum dropped and rolled between him and another. The man caught Marack’s blade in the side of his head.

Auum stood and thrashed his blade through the guard of the next in line. The enemy’s sword broke, the tip flying to lodge in his skull. He cried out and put his hands up to his head. Auum dug his sword in under the hapless human’s ribs. Behind Auum, the TaiGethen washed over the front line of men. The whole moved back a pace under the pressure of the attack, giving Auum brief room.

A flight of arrows came in from behind, landing amongst the fleeing Gyalans. There was a roar from that direction too. More men spilling into the square. Auum straight-punched the man in front of him, knocking him cold.

TaiGethen flew over his head, dropping into the midst of the growing press of men. They were still four deep ahead. Auum and Marack moved side by side. Four blades blocking and chopping. Merrat and Grafyrre were by them. Pelyn was to Auum’s left.

Another surge came from behind. Apposans. Less pretty, just as effective. Axes rose and fell. Blood sprayed into the sky. Auum took heart. He swayed inside a stab to the head and cracked the pommel of his blade into his attacker’s face. Auum followed up with a straight kick to the groin. The man gasped. Auum stepped up and butted the bridge of his nose, splitting it open. The man fell. Auum stamped down on his throat and moved past him.

Marack jumped, spun and kicked out. Her foot caught the head of her target. He flew back. The man behind tried to fend him off but succeeded only in stabbing him low in the back. Marack chopped in, left and right. Both men died. More arrows at their back. Auum could hear them skipping off the cobbles.

Auum ducked a wild swing, hearing the blade clash against Pelyn’s. He straightened fast. The soldier, surprised, swayed back. Auum stabbed into his exposed throat. Down he went. The soldier behind him was staring at Auum but wasn’t about to strike. Blood was sluicing down his face. When he fell forward, Kerryn stood behind him.

‘Clear!’ shouted Auum. ‘Push left and right. Graf. Get some through to the mages.’

The line of men broke. TaiGethen and Apposan chased them away. The square was still in uproar. What was left of the museum was collapsing in on itself. Fire scratched at the sky. Clouds were coming in again.

‘Run! Run!’

The Apposans chanted in unison. They rounded up Gyalans and pushed them towards the street and the way out towards the Grans. Terrified ula and iad came past Auum. He fell in beside them. Behind them, more and more men poured into the square to give chase. Ahead, mages stood waiting. No longer were their comrades in line before them. They had clear targets.

‘Graf! Mages!’ shouted Auum, but Grafyrre couldn’t hear him.

Auum could see him and Merrat over to the right. They took apart three men standing in a tight knot before turning to usher Gyalan and Apposan past them and away. Hundreds, thousands had been saved. The devastation at the museum had brought more onto the street, beating open their own doors and windows to join in the exodus. There was no need for questions now. No need for any elf to wonder if they should join the crowd. One look at the faces of men was all they needed. Any who stayed behind were as good as dead.

Auum powered towards the mages. They were together, seven of them. The sea of elves was about to engulf them but they stayed still, preparing. Auum broke through the line of running Gyalans and Apposans and closed on the enemy. But he would not make it in time.

As one, the mages opened their eyes and focused on their enemy.

They could not see what was behind them. A figure in the air, twisting as he came down right in their midst. Takaar. His swords blurred. Mages were hacked aside. A hand dropped to the ground, still opening and closing. A shoulder was chopped through. They tried to turn and defend but his hands were too quick and his feet too sure.

The last of them grappled with him, wrapping his arms around him and pushing him back. Takaar dropped both blades and stared at the mage. Auum slowed too, letting the rescued and rescuers flow past him. Takaar cocked his head. The mage did not know what to do next. He let go with one arm and felt for a knife, sensing a chance.

Takaar put a hand on the mage’s chest and shoved him back just one pace. The other hand he placed on his face. Fire engulfed the man’s head. It was a juddering mix of brown and green shot through with grey. His screams were agonised and brief.

Takaar took his hand away and stared at it, his mouth open and moving. Auum glanced behind. Gyalans still poured past him. Men were closing. Not as fast as even the slowest elf but even they would overhaul a TaiGethen who stood and waited for them.

‘Takaar. Come on,’ he said, though the words he wanted to speak were utterly different.

Takaar looked at him as he approached. Takaar swallowed and stepped back as if trying to retreat from his own hand.

‘I felt it in me,’ he said. ‘And in him. Look at what I did. What did I do?’

An arrow bit into the cobbles right at Auum’s feet. Another struck the smouldering dead mage. Auum grabbed Takaar’s arm and felt a jolt through it like an impact. He wanted to let go but instead tightened his grip and pulled.

‘Come on. Later, all right? Live now.’

Auum began to run. The last of the Gyalans were coming past him. Pelyn was with them. She was cut and bloodied but in her eyes there was victory.

‘We did it,’ she said, coming to Takaar’s other side. ‘We did it.’

Takaar looked at her once and shook his head.

‘We did nothing. Saved a handful and let so many others die. We have lost Katyett and we have lost our city. Calaius belongs to the humans.’

Chapter 42

While a TaiGethen still has the forest, there is still hope.

For two days survivors trickled out of the city and into the canopy, where the TaiGethen found them and led them to safety. On the third day the humans were done with their slaughter and the city was sealed so tight that no iad or ula would find a way out.

They were not pursued into the forest. That was left, presumably, to another day. Victory, Pelyn had said, but Takaar had been right. They had lost. The elves had been expelled from their own city. It belonged to man now and they would soon be reaching into the forest to take the rest of what they desired.

So much death. Llyron would be busy for years, sending the souls to Shorth. Assuming Ystormun had kept her alive. And Auum thought that he had. He was clever. Brutal, evil. Clever. Auum sat with Serrin of the Silent on the cliffs above the Ultan. Heavily strapped and limping but very much alive, Serrin’s sudden appearance had left Auum’s feelings mixed. Serrin did not want to be here but had felt compelled to come. Auum waited to find out why that was while his discomfort grew.

They could sit here safely, looking into the city and seeing the devastation and the work of men. They could see their people too. Slaves now, he supposed. The thrill of the run to the museum was already a tainted memory. The attempts to free thread elves elsewhere in the city had been much less successful.

‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ said Auum. ‘The Ynissul are now the most numerous thread among the rescued of Ysundeneth.’

Serrin looked at him and shrugged. ‘More will come.’

‘Not from there,’ said Auum. ‘Not now.’

A few in excess of two thousand Gyalans had joined close to two and a half thousand Ynissul, half that number of Cefans and a mere few hundred Ixii. The fate of the rest within the city was wholly unknown. Handfuls from other threads had escaped that night, joining the exodus when they saw the chance.

But the truth was that those they had rescued made up a truly pitiful number. Pelyn estimated that more than twenty thousand had in all probability perished in Ysundeneth alone. TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar were already on their way to find out if Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine had suffered the same fate.

TaiGethen. Almost all gone now. They could barely make up ten cells. Most of them had survived the attack on the museum. Others had perished going back into the city to find more Ixii, the thread that had been targeted most cruelly by the humans. Auum wondered why that had been. Takaar in a brief moment of lucidity had simply nodded knowingly and stared once more at his hand.

‘We failed,’ said Auum, feeling a desolation sweep through him that he hadn’t felt ten years ago when the price in lives had been even higher. ‘I’m not sure we can survive this.’

Serrin cleared his throat. ‘I will speak freely, Auum, and it will be for the last time.’

Auum felt his heart lurch. ‘I wondered why you chose to come back here. After what you said in the forest, I thought I had seen the last of you.’

‘Things are changing,’ said Serrin. ‘Not just for the Silent. The balance of power has shifted away from the priesthood for ever. What Sildaan and Llyron and Hithuur started means priests will never rule the elves again, though in time they might be revered and trusted as keepers of their own faiths. Nothing more.’

Auum opened his mouth but Serrin shook his head.

‘Hear me, Auum of the TaiGethen. You see numbers of warriors and you see defeat and extinction. But the coming of man to these shores to use their magic has awoken something within the elves that has lain dormant for thousands of years. Takaar exhibits it most clearly. So do I. So does at least one other Ynissul iad that Sikaant found in the forest.

‘Did it never occur to you why so many failed to become Silent Priests or failed to become Al-Arynaar or TaiGethen? What man has awakened he will rightly fear. It exists in the subconscious of those of us who serve Yniss with the blade. It underpins your skill, your speed and your awareness.’

‘You’re saying there will be more of us now?’ asked Auum. It sounded so far-fetched, yet coming from the mouth of Serrin it had the weight of inevitability about it.

‘Many more,’ said Serrin.

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘But you will have to look for them. Sweep the forest clean. Katyett knew what she wanted to do. Build a new fastness at Katura Falls. Every free elf must be brought there. The Silent will keep watch over the temples. We will see that no stranger defiles any of them until the TaiGethen are numerous enough to guard them once more. The TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar must train and build their strengths. Add new talents to their ranks.’

Auum shook his head. It all sounded so perfect. So simple. Too perfect. Too simple.

‘But we can never hope to take back our cities. Man is here to stay.’

‘You’re so sure? You think too much in the short term. Remember that without the rainforest to harvest, the cities are worthless. Empty vessels. Everything we have comes from within the canopy. Make them fear the canopy. Make them regret they ever set foot here so that when you do emerge once again, you are already halfway to pushing them back across the Sea of Gyaam.

‘We have lost so much but we have gained much too, though it is hard to see it now, of course. The wounds and the grief are still too fresh.’

‘Such as?’ Auum knew he sounded petulant but he couldn’t find the wit to care.

‘You have Takaar.’

‘Not necessarily. No one has seen him in two days. Whatever happened to him in Ysundeneth, it’s sent him down again. Most likely he’s run back to his hovel. Perhaps he’ll let the taipan bite him this time or rub a yellow back on his tongue.’

Serrin chuckled. ‘Oh dear. I see we have our work cut out to make you see beauty and harmony again.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No need. But don’t worry about Takaar. He’ll reappear. If there’s one thing we know about him it is that he is a survivor, yes?’

Auum had to smile at that.

‘Good,’ said Serrin, getting up and brushing himself down. ‘At last some humour. I have to go. You’ll see me, my friend. The Silent will never desert the forest. And remember, there are two things that we have that the humans do not and can never have.’

‘Yes?’

Serrin began to walk away. The sun cast him in silhouette. It was a memory Auum would retain all of his life.

‘We have the rainforest and know it is untameable. Humans will never understand that and it is one reason they will fail.’

‘Granted,’ said Auum and he felt some crumb of comfort. ‘And what else do we have that they cannot ever have?’

‘Time.’ Serrin moved away. ‘Lots and lots of time.’

Garan was rewarded on his third night of vigil. He hadn’t begun to doubt but he’d already heard the mutterings of his men. No matter. He sat quite still as the lone elf descended the wall of the temple of Cefu. It was quiet now. Night was full and the city was silent but for the cries of the grieving and desperate. And there were few who would raise their voices now.

The elf knelt by the body of his fallen. He whispered words Garan could not catch and lifted her stiff form into his arms. He eyed his climb. Garan didn’t envy him it. He walked into the shadows of the porch.

‘I can see you safely across the Ultan bridge,’ he said.