Elves: Once Walked With Gods (23 page)

Pelyn stormed to her feet, rounding on Llyron. ‘He murdered my Lorius. He murdered your Jarinn. How can you stand with him?’

‘He was acting on my orders,’ said Llyron. ‘Who else’s do you think?’

‘Yours?’ Pelyn saw two Senserii ghost to stand by Llyron. ‘Then it is you I seek.’

‘Well, of course it is,’ snapped Llyron. ‘Who else can lead the elves now that Jarinn and Lorius are gone? The high priest of Shorth was ever the ruler of the elves. Ever an Ynissul until Takaar meddled. Only within the walls of a temple to Shorth are the threads treated with equality. Only the high priest of the order can correctly govern those whose souls pass through their hands. And only in the Ynissul is the intellect keen and the strength of blood present in order to bestow the correct level of benefit upon each thread.’

Pelyn felt her body sag. Such words should have been buried in history for ever, only hauled out as an example of how unjust the lives of most elves used to be. She stood with her brothers, a Gyalan and a Cefan. She feared for them as she must now fear for herself.

‘You have spent your whole life preaching the harmony,’ said Pelyn. ‘Why do you turn against it?’

‘My whole life? Hardly. I have had to pay lip service while Jarinn continued to preach his flawed beliefs.’ She turned her attention on Methian and Jakyn. ‘You two. Mouths open like piranhas in search of a feed. Nothing to say in support of your lord?’

‘What will become of us? Of the Al-Arynaar?’ asked Jakyn, his voice admirably calm.

‘Have no fear,’ said Llyron. ‘The Al-Arynaar are perhaps Takaar’s greatest creation. A force drawn from every thread, trained to work as one. The perfect army for the defence of Shorth, no? For me. It is a shame the TaiGethen will not have a role but you’ll understand that would be difficult.’

‘And if we refuse?’ said Methian.

Llyron’s tone was even. ‘That will of course be your choice. And wrapped in your cloak you will be delivered to the feet of those with less mercy than I for the products of Takaar’s failure.’

‘You will have to kill all of us. None will join you,’ said Pelyn.

‘Now that is just naive. Many already have. My knowledge of your plans is far more complete than you imagine. As for you three, I will give you time to cool your passion and your hatred. I will return to you at dawn. Just before our fleet docks. Then I will have your answer. Senserii, take them to a contemplation and remembrance chamber. That seems appropriate.’

Chapter 19

I can grieve for those lost in battle. Or I can ensure their sacrifice has worth.

Pelyn was silent for a good long time. The contemplation chamber encouraged as much. It was filled with plants. Natural light flooded in through a skylight grid that covered the entire roof space forty feet above their heads. An ornamental pool fed by hidden pipes trickled happily. Large white and black fish lazed within it.

Pelyn sat in a deep and embracing leather chair. It was one of six making a circle around a low wooden table on which sat beautifully scented cut flowers from the gardens at the rear of the temple. She stared at them until her sight blurred, blinked and did it again. Eventually, the constant movement of Jakyn broke her from her blankness.

‘What is it you are doing exactly?’ she asked.

‘Looking for a way out,’ said Jakyn. ‘We can’t just sit here.’

‘You know this isn’t like a performance of
The Kidnap of Verendii,’
said Methian.

The old Gyalan had taken the chair opposite Pelyn and had mirrored her mood, probably her actions too. She hadn’t noticed him at all.

‘I know,’ said Jakyn sharply. ‘I just don’t see the point of sitting there waiting till dawn for an ikari blade in the guts.’

‘You’re expending energy you needn’t,’ said Methian. ‘Come and sit down.’

‘I can’t,’ said Jakyn.

‘The impatience of youth,’ said Methian. ‘And you, Arch Pelyn. Do you have a plan?’

Pelyn stared back at him. Plan. She’d outlined to her warriors how the traitors would be high-ranking priests and officials and then handed herself over to the highest of them all. Some planner she had turned out to be.

‘Idiot,’ she muttered.

‘I’m sorry?’ said Methian.

‘Not you, Methian. Me. I’m sorry I dragged you two into this. Idiot that I am. I led us right into the jaws of the enemy.’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ said Methian.

‘I could have followed my own advice and not trusted anyone. Any senior Ynissul, certainly. I wonder what happened to the muster. Do you think Esseral will have assumed command?’

‘She bloody ought to. You gave her the job of second after all.’

‘But she’s an unhappy Cefan.’

‘We’re all unhappy,’ said Jakyn from a position balanced on the edge of the pool. ‘Just got to do your job, haven’t you?’

‘You’ll break an ankle. Can’t have you limping to your execution, can we?’

‘
Methian!
’ hissed Pelyn.

‘Get down from there, foolish youth,’ admonished Methian with a smile.

Jakyn looked stricken. ‘Is that what they’ll do to us?’

Pelyn glared at her elder. ‘Only if we refuse to cooperate.’

‘They won’t trust us,’ said Jakyn. ‘They won’t believe we switched sides so easily.’

‘Maybe not, but there’s one thing I do know,’ said Pelyn. ‘Being kept in the bowels of the temple doing some menial job gives us more chance of helping our people than if our souls are sent to Shorth.’

Methian cleared his throat. ‘Pelyn, I’m going to do something unusual and disagree with you.’

‘You really think they’ll present you to your enemies for traditional execution, do you? Don’t be daft.’

‘I’m prepared to take the risk. Look at it this way. If we say we want to join the shiny new path and become Shorth’s guardians, I’ve no doubt at all we’ll be manacled to something and given mops, buckets and filthy rags as the first two centuries of our retraining. If Llyron wins, we’ll spend the rest of our days as nothing more than slaves. She’ll never trust us. We’ll be the lowest form of life to her. Not Ynissul and not of mixed blood, though working in her temple.

‘Give me a chance to speak, and I’ll talk my way out of trouble or die trying. I’d prefer it that way. And if I can persuade whoever it is not to slit my throat, I’ll be out there on the street. Back in the fight.’

Pelyn felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

‘And if the Senserii stick you with an ikari blade under the eaves of the forest?’

‘Then you may berate me when you join me in the halls of the ancients.’

The smile was joined by the faintest flicker of rekindled hope.

‘You’d better not be wrong about this,’ said Pelyn.

‘Am I ever wrong?’ asked Methian, his eyes sparkling.

‘This would be a bad time for your luck to change,’ said Pelyn. ‘Jakyn, what do you think?’

Jakyn raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips and shrugged.

‘We should probably get some rest. Methian’s planning a tough day tomorrow by the sounds of it.’

‘Do we follow them?’ asked Hithuur.

He stood with Sildaan and twenty human mercenaries at the mouth of Ultan-in-Caeyin. The bowl was deserted. No evidence that anyone had been here earlier in the day remained. Around three thousand Ynissul civilians and a small guard of TaiGethen had disappeared into the rainforest.

‘No need,’ said Sildaan. ‘We know where they’re going.’

‘And the priests at Aryndeneth? We should try and warn them.’

Sildaan shrugged. ‘They’re smart. They’ll blame me and say they are tending those who I have abandoned. Or they should. I can’t help those who won’t help themselves.’

‘Where’s Leeth?’

‘Leeth took another path,’ said Sildaan, not looking round at him. She began to walk from the Ultan back towards the bridge and the city. ‘Come on. The fleet will be in the harbour in two hours. Plenty of Al-Arynaar to round up before then.’

Hithuur didn’t move for a moment. He stared after Sildaan. She’d changed. Hardened. Was it really as Llyron said? That elves could never be other than the roots of their race dictated? Sildaan was playing the part all right. Cruel-eyed, chill of soul. Ten years before she had been so honoured to be accepted into the Aryndeneth priesthood and had talked only of spreading the harmony, of forging unbreakable links between the threads.

That was before she had been seconded to Llyron at the temple of Shorth in the forest. That was where it had begun for her. And she’d never lived on Hausolis. Never known the horror of war. She craved it. Hithuur was sick of it. Llyron had given him a path when he was at his most desperate in the days when it became clear his family were gone, lost behind the collapsed gateway. Hithuur believed in the lessons Llyron preached. But not in her method of achieving their aims. What he had led Jarinn into had sickened him. He didn’t think he would ever sleep clear of nightmares again. He didn’t deserve to.

Sildaan hadn’t noticed he’d yet to move. He sighed and trudged after her. The leader of the men, Garan, the ugly big man with sores on his face and blood hate in his eyes, trotted past him and laid a hand on Sildaan’s shoulder. She jerked herself free and snapped round to face him, pushing him away.

‘Did I not tell you never to touch me, blink-life?’

Garan spread his hands wide. ‘Hey. Relax. We’re working together, right? I just want to check you’re doing the right thing.’

‘You’re doubting me again?’

Garan’s face took on a resigned look. Hithuur watched the exchange with growing interest.

‘Without Leeth, who else can be your conscience?’

There was fire in Garan’s eyes suddenly. Sildaan hissed through clenched teeth and spared Hithuur a brief glance, unhappy he was obviously listening. She walked away, beckoning Garan to follow. Hithuur smiled. His hearing was particularly acute. It was dry currently and there was little other noise barring the ever-present din from the forest. Nothing to distract him.

‘Never mention him. Never use his name to get under my skin like the fly larvae under yours. Remember who pays you. Who keeps you alive.’

‘I keep myself alive, Sildaan. That is my job. And I never forget who pays me. That is my livelihood. And you pay me to advise you as well as use my sword. So I want to know why you are letting a significant number of our worst enemy and three thousand Ynissul just wander off into the forest without a care. Out there they are going to have their minds set unshakeably against what you are doing. You say you aren’t numerous.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘That has to represent a significant percentage of the total Ynissul alive today, doesn’t it?’

Sildaan pushed her hand through her hair and shook her head slowly. Hithuur watched Garan bridle as she tutted.

‘Well, that is why you can’t advise me on anything other than how to kill with blade and magic, isn’t it? You just don’t understand the elven mind at all, do you? And certainly not the Ynissul mind.’

‘That surprises you, does it?’

‘Not at all.’

‘So enlighten me. Help me see the light of your wondrous plan.’

Garan stared down at Sildaan, his aggression barely suppressed. Hithuur wondered for a moment who would win in a single combat. Sildaan was fast and slick with a blade. All the priests were though few chose to carry a weapon. And she had good open-hand skills. Better than Hithuur’s certainly. But she was no TaiGethen. She didn’t demonstrate the poise, agility or sheer speed of reaction.

Garan on the other hand was simply raw power. He’d find Sildaan surprisingly strong, but Hithuur could imagine that long sword in both of his hands and wondered if any elf could really deflect a well-aimed blow. It would be fascinating to find out. Hithuur wasn’t at all sure he knew who he would want to win.

Sildaan pointed into the rainforest and then began walking again, Garan a pace to her left and eyeing her from beneath a heavy frown.

‘Out there are three thousand and more ordinary Ynissul. Most of them have lived in the city ever since they arrived here or were born here. And those that lived in the forest have come to live here for a reason. These are not TaiGethen material. They are pampered iads and ulas who understand a roof over their heads, a mattress on which to lie and a hot meal whenever they choose to eat it, having brought all their lovely fresh food from the market.

‘Imagine them now. They’ve been brutalised by other threads in the city. Beaten, raped. And they are the ones not murdered in the temple. Now they’re being forced to run into the rainforest. There’s danger in every branch and beneath every step. There’s only leaves to shelter them when it rains, and for most a ground covered with crawling and biting insects and reptiles when they sleep, if sleep they can.

‘They won’t get enough to eat. Thirty TaiGethen cannot feed three thousand. They won’t be able to drink until a pure stream is crossed. They left with nothing. A few clothes. The odd book. They are so underprepared it makes you look like a fifty-year veteran of the canopy.

‘And, when they get to their sanctuaries, they’ll find a few huts, an open fire and a whole lot of elves who don’t want to be forced to look after them. They’ll be fed roots, berries and monkeys. Given creaking hammocks. What a life, eh?

‘So when I go to offer them the hand of friendship . . . One of their own, come to bring them back home, having cleared their city and ensured that none of those who hurt them will do anything more than grovel and serve them from here on in, who do you think they will follow? The TaiGethen, who will despise them for their weakness and lack of faith? Or me and Llyron and Hithuur? Elves who understand them and their true desires. Elves who can offer them a better life than the one they were forced to flee?

‘The mathematics are not complex, are they, Garan?’

Hithuur had watched Garan’s face unknot slowly and an expression bordering on admiration replace his earlier belligerence.

‘And meanwhile, those Ynissul who might oppose you are out of the way and the TaiGethen are kept very busy indeed.’

‘Now you’re getting it,’ said Sildaan, and she allowed herself a small smile. ‘I told you I knew the elven mind, but I have to admit even I did not think it would all work as perfectly as it has so far. Pelyn serving herself up has been an unexpected bonus.’