Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen (11 page)

‘Your stubbornness will prove costly,’ said Pamun.

And abruptly the contact was broken. Ystormun waited, with his head still on the cushion, until the shivers had subsided and the ache in his head died away. When he finally lifted his head, its left-hand side and the cushion were soaked with sweat. An aide stood before the desk, his face to the floor.

‘This had better be good news.’

The aide shook his head. ‘There have been more attacks.’

Ystormun sighed. ‘Not now. Not
now
.’

Auum led Elyss and Malaar into Aryndeneth an hour after dawn. The temple doors stood open and the stone apron at the front was busy with workers and TaiGethen who had already responded to the ClawBound call.

‘Elyss, get me numbers and information on who else is coming. Malaar, brief them on what we’ve witnessed and what the ClawBound intend. Say nothing of my decision. I’m going to find Takaar.’

Auum trotted into the cool air beneath the dome. He knelt in prayer before the statue of Yniss before hurrying into the depths of the temple. The low hum of voices, one louder than the rest, travelled to him on the still air. They were coming from a chapel close to the block of individual prayer cells and visiting priests’ rooms.

Auum stood at the door for a moment, watching Onelle talking with a group he recognised as the orientation class; they had been lucky enough to be in the forest when the humans attacked. The voices hushed when he walked in, the adepts bunching reflexively and moving half a pace backwards. Onelle smiled at him. Auum embraced her, kissing her eyes and forehead.

‘I must look quite a sight,’ he said.

There was nervous laughter.

‘You need to reapply your camouflage,’ said Onelle, her expression sober. ‘You didn’t stop them, did you?’

Auum shook his head. ‘They are starting their own war and their actions force us to save those who cannot save themselves. I need Takaar. Where is he?’

Onelle hesitated and Auum felt his anger flare. ‘He’s . . . visiting. Or I assume he is. He’s been gone for two days.’

‘Damn his Ynissul heart!’ Auum clapped his hands to his face. The adepts flinched as one.

Onelle took his arm and walked him back into the passage and then through the rear doors to the village.

‘It doesn’t matter whose side you’re on, no one is very comfortable in front of an angry TaiGethen.’

‘They may need to get used to it,’ said Auum. ‘Why did he go now? Surely even he, or his other self, could see the risk the ClawBound posed. And his reaction is to run off to talk to a human? Perhaps he is not fit to school the Il-Aryn.’

Onelle had kept him walking and they had passed through the village and into the forest, heading towards a shrine to Tual that nestled near a Hallows of Reclamation.

‘Take a breath, Auum. What’s happening? We’re still in shock after the attack, and the rites of reclamation for the dead have only just been completed. I’ll have nightmares about those victims’ faces for ever, and worse about those whose deaths left no trace at all.

‘What am I trying to say? We heard the ClawBound call the muster. The TaiGethen are arriving here and people are scared.
I’m
scared. The forest feels strange and we can sense changes in the lines of power. You’ve decided to attack the humans, haven’t you? When I have no one to help you.’

Auum took Onelle’s shoulders and gave her what he hoped was a calming smile.

‘I’m sorry, Onelle. It’s all moving faster than a taipan strike, I know. Listen: the ClawBound aren’t just taking revenge, they’re starting a cleansing . . . which means hundreds of elves in the slave cities are going to die unless we can save them. Serrin will no longer hear reason and he as much as challenged my courage and authority.’ Auum sighed. ‘He’s forced our hand. We have to attack Ysundeneth, and to save as many as we can.’

Onelle’s glorious oval eyes widened in her age-worn face. She gestured about her. ‘But we . . . I mean, I can’t—’

‘I’m sorry, Onelle. We have to get into Ysundeneth before news of the attacks gets to Ystormun. We’re already too late to stop some of the deaths. And now it grows worse because, without Takaar, we have no one to guide us past the wards. No one but you.’

Auum could see her shrinking from the prospect. But it wasn’t fear of humans or conflict that drove her emotions when she shook her head.

‘I can’t go back there, Auum. Not after what happened. Not after what they did to us. Some of the elves who persecuted the Ynissul are still alive in there. Others are living in Katura. Why do you suppose I came here? It wasn’t just to learn magic.’

Auum looked at Onelle anew. She was shivering with the rawness of memories which were a hundred and fifty years old.

‘Then why do you teach, if not to arm us for the fight against mankind? I have learned to forgive those of other threads who attacked my Ynissul brothers and sisters. If we are to prosper under Yniss when the humans are gone, we must all forgive each other.’

‘It’s easy for you, Auum. No one kicked down your door and raped you while your husband was beaten and forced to watch. No one shouted in your face that the Ynissul would pay when they saw mixed-thread offspring drop from their wombs.

‘I teach magic so that humans like the ones who murdered my husband in the rainforest might die in flames as he did. But I cannot go back there. I’ll never go back.’

‘Onelle you must—’

‘There is nothing I
must
do. Not even for you, Arch of the TaiGethen. Give me another fifty years and I will school new Il-Aryn for you. But that is all I will do. If you want to get into Ysundeneth, you’ll have to find Takaar.’

Her eyes were brimful with bitterness. Auum held her gaze a moment longer before nodding curtly and walking away around the outside of the temple and back to the apron. He had to respect Onelle’s decision, but it was clear that her isolation here among the Ynissul had deprived her of the opportunity to heal her mental scars.

In front of the temple, Elyss and Malaar were addressing the assembled TaiGethen. Auum counted seven cells and did not hide his disappointment at the low numbers. He joined his Tai, nodding for Malaar to continue speaking.

‘. . . we are certain of little but that the ClawBound will continue cleansing the rainforest, and that means more and more innocent elves will die. Auum.’

Auum stepped forward. ‘How many other cells are on the way?’

‘Four from the south and eastern patrol zones. None as yet from further afield, like Tolt Anoor or Deneth Barine. That’s to be expected.’ Elyss shrugged her shoulders. ‘The call only went out at dusk yesterday.’

Auum nodded curtly. ‘Others will come, but for now we few will have to suffice. Leave word of our destination with Onelle. Tais, we must ask Yniss to preserve our souls and protect our bodies for the greater tasks to come. We need the silence of Tual and the cover of Beeth. We need the luck of Ix and the strength of Appos. We must liberate the slaves of Ysundeneth and we must find Takaar before we get there. Cover every northern approach to the temple on the way out.

‘That bastard is going to help us get into Ysundeneth, human-lover or not. Tais we move.’

Chapter 9

The city of Katura nestled in the palm of Yniss. It was without question the most beautiful place in the rainforest. Towards the southern perimeter of the forest, from which it was three days’ run before the glory of the canopy gave way to the baking-hot plains, it was set within a spectacular landscape of cliffs, lakes, valleys and mountains.

The elves called it the playground of Tual, and for centuries it had been a reserve where Tual’s denizens could run unchallenged. No two-legged hunters confused the chain of life and death here. No vegetation was used for food, shelter or fire. Untouched, glorious, virgin rainforest; until man came and elves were not safe even in their own temples.

Rainforest lore said that all Tual’s creatures spilled from the palm of Yniss and so it was the right place, the only place, for the battered elven race to find sanctuary – back at the heart of life. A place where they could tend to their wounds, gather their strength and learn to live again. If anywhere could provide a balm for the soul, it was here.

The palm of Yniss was a great horseshoe-shaped basin nestling at the base of sheer cliffs backed by tree-covered mountains. Waterfalls roared and ran over the edge of the cliffs in five places, gathering into a food-rich lake whose northern outflow was a distant tributary to the River Ix. Both lake and river were named Carenthan, like the mountain range behind them, while the falls were called Katura.

A vast plain of grass and low trees grew on the sheltered lands bordering the lake and along the banks of the river. It was a perfect place to settle, farm and glory in life, and had it not been forbidden elves would have settled there many generations ago.

But the palm had not just been chosen for its beauty and mythology. It was a hidden land, surrounded by mists and low cloud that periodically swept off the mountains and down the thousand-foot cliffs. To stand on the cliffs and look down on the plain was the culmination of a journey up cleft, over mountain peak and through deep forest where the panthers were still masters of the land.

The only way to reach it was along the base of the sharp-sided valley through which the Carenthan River flowed. The river was wide and the paths alongside it were narrow and treacherous, climbing steadily towards the plain. The sides of the valley were part crag, part balsa woodland, rife with vines and ivies and largely impenetrable.

To walk the valleys, find new paths and glimpse fresh views of the vastness of the forest, where the sun seemed to engender new life wherever it kissed the green leaves, was a joy for any who made the effort. So Methian forced his aching, ageing body up the final incline and joined Boltha at the top.

Two old elves, one Gyalan, one Apposan, gazed across the miles of unbroken forest canopy and down on the city that nestled in the palm of Yniss. Smoke smudged the sky, and even this far distant the echoes of elven prayers were carried on the prevailing wind, along with the clang of hammer on metal and the rasp of saw against wood.

Boltha spat on the ground.

‘We are a stain on perfection,’ he said. ‘A slime that is oozing its way into the bedrock and corrupting the very place that should have inspired us back to greatness. We do not deserve saving.’

Methian tore his eyes from the ungainly sprawl of the city. Katura had become the elves’ greatest shame. Work which had begun with such energy had become lack-lustre and lazy. There was not a single building they could be proud of. And within the city limits, enmity grew by the day.

‘How long since you set foot in there?’

Boltha’s watery eyes squinted back at Methian. His close sight was poor, indeed he feared it was fading altogether.

‘More than fifteen years. Ever since we took the Apposans to the Haliath Vale. We couldn’t bear to stay another moment. No wonder you retired.’

‘I didn’t retire,’ said Methian, and he could not keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘It is an enduring sadness that I was made unwelcome by the very people I was sworn to help.’

‘You can’t blame yourself. Edulis is a drug that removes reason, sense and any familial feeling. She dismissed you because she no longer knew you.’

Methian sighed. ‘I could have stopped her becoming an addict. I should have seen her falling.’

‘Addicts are clever right up until the moment they lose their minds. She’s still alive, is she?’

‘Dead addicts don’t make any money. Dead governors don’t pass handy new laws. The suppliers are careful. After all, the birth rates are so low now that they have a practically stagnant population. They can’t afford to start killing them.’

Boltha barked out a laugh. ‘We should torch the place.’

‘I hear you, old friend, but not everyone there has sunk so low. Some still work and there are many people still praying for redemption in Katura.’

‘Which god will hear them?’ Boltha’s tone was harsh. ‘It’s a cesspit, nothing more.’

‘And you did nothing to help when you took your thread away.’

Methian hadn’t meant it quite the way it came out and he saw Boltha’s face pinch in sudden anger.

‘We did nothing that Auum didn’t do when he took the Ynissul from Katura almost before a tree was felled to build the damn place.’

‘He had to,’ snapped Methian. ‘He had to develop the new TaiGethen and provide adepts for the Il-Aryn, and the Ynissul birth rate is so low that every new Ynissul child is cause for a celebration as if the gods were walking the forest once more. What excuse did you have? You whose hands helped to build what you now despise.’

‘We relied on the Al-Arynaar. Your leader’s spectacular failure is the seed of all that Katura has become. I only removed my thread when the reports began to say innocent elves were being forced into addiction. And what riches are the harvesters and dealers making for themselves, I wonder?’