Elves_ Once Walked with Gods Part 43

Auum watched Llyron lean back gradually from both Marack's blade and Takaar's muttering. Marack c.o.c.ked her head.

'Kill like a panther,' she repeated. 'Ready to speak?'

Auum focused on the other iad in the room. Silent for now and staring at the unfolding scene with open mouth and blank eyes. Sildaan looked beaten down. Gone was the c.o.c.ksure expression and the arrogance of growing power. Replaced by a dull morbidity. Not triggered by the arrival of the TaiGethen either.

'Where's Garan?' demanded Auum.

Sildaan looked up at him. She wasn't about to say anything. Next to her, Llyron managed a dry laugh.

'Garan? He's down at the barracks. That's where the soldiers live. Why on earth would you care?'

'Like I said, we're here for the man in charge?'

Llyron laughed again and Marack pushed her blade a little closer. 'And you're looking for Garan? He's not in charge. You poor fools, why did you come here? You really have no idea of the power that has arrived on our sh.o.r.es, do you? It's over for the elves of Ysundeneth and so it will be for those of Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine.

'All you can do now is run to the rainforest. Hide in the darkest parts of the canopy and wait for the inevitable end. Men are here. Magic is here. And you can do nothing to stop it.'

Auum saw Marack hesitate. Now he understood Sildaan's desolation. And his hatred of her deepened.

'So who is the man in charge?' he asked. 'We don't care who he is. We want him. No human is fast enough to beat a TaiGethen.'

Sildaan caught his gaze, and Yniss preserve him if there wasn't pity in her eyes.

'O Auum. So right about so much but so wrong about this. Please run while you still have time.'

Something in her chilled Auum to the core. 'What have you done? What have you allowed into our lands?'

'We are all of us only alive until our usefulness runs its course,' said Sildaan.

'Sildaan!' snapped Llyron. 'Enough.'

'Why?' asked Auum. 'What aren't you telling us?'

Sildaan didn't get the chance to respond. Takaar groaned. He stumbled back clutching at his head, doubled over and fell to the ground on his side, vomiting bile onto the timber floor and convulsing.

Both Llyron and Sildaan leapt up and backed away from him as he writhed and tried to cry out through jaws locked in pain.

'What's happening?'

'Magic,' said Auum. 'That's what. Lots of it. Either here or down at the dockside.'

Outside the windows, echoes of light could be seen flashing across the sky. Marack ran to the door and pulled it open. Auum, crouched by Takaar, could see down the corridor. It was empty but there were the sounds of fighting echoing up from the hall below. Katyett was inside the temple.

A door opened halfway down the corridor and an ula stumbled out, crashing into the wall opposite before turning his back to lean against it and jab a finger back towards the chamber.

'I will never bow to this. This is not what we planned. How can you countenance this genocide?'

The ula ducked. An arrow bit into the wall where his head had been. He looked left and right, saw Marack at the door and began running towards them. Auum growled and stood.

Hithuur.

The traitor priest dived headlong into the room.

'Close it. Bar it. Please.'

Other figures were emerging from the room. Marack slammed the door, ran to a heavy chair and dragged it across. Auum pounced on Hithuur.

'Cascarg. You killed my Jarinn. You murdered our high priest. Welcome to your execution.'

'No. What are you talking about? It was men. Men and magic. I loved Jarinn.'

Hithuur tried to scrabble away but Auum was too strong. He clamped a hand on Hithuur's throat and squeezed.

'Liar. Olmaat saw. And Olmaat lives.'

Hithuur's eyes widened. He gurgled, trying to force words out. Auum tightened his grip a little more. Marack pulled another chair in front of the door. Behind him, Takaar was moaning but his body was back under his control.

'Please,' croaked Hithuur. 'Or many thousands more will die.'

'And if I am one of them it will be worth it to see your soul to the wrath of Shorth,' said Auum.

'I. Deserve. It. Please. You can help them.'

There was an impact on the door. Marack braced herself against it and yelled for Sildaan to help. Sildaan did not move.

'Say nothing, Hithuur. Nothing,' said Llyron.

Auum heard her, spared her a glance and relaxed his grip.

'Speak. Speak now. Llyron cannot hurt you. I can.'

'Hithuur,' warned Llyron.

'Shut up. Shut up. Trying to save your own skin. Too late for that.'

Llyron rose to her feet but Takaar was in front of her and shoved her back down. There was another impact on the door. Heavier this time. The chairs moved. Marack pushed them back hard.

'There is a very powerful man in charge. A mage lord. He's sectioning the city. Dividing the threads.'

'Huh,' said Auum. 'You should be delighted. That's just what you wanted, wasn't it? The old order restored.'

'Ystormun, the mage lord, he isn't sectioning the city to bring back the old order. He's doing it because he's going to exterminate the threads he feels can't benefit him.'

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 G.o.d.

'Apposans and Orrans he a.s.sumes 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 b.e.s.t.i.a.l 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 face 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 pa.s.sage 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.