Elves: Once Walked With Gods (25 page)

When the last echoes of the wheels had faded, Helias walked into the circle and stood at Pelyn’s feet, blade in his hand. He gazed down at her and she met it, unflinching.

To flinch is to die.

Helias had not suffered too badly as a result of the fracturing of elven society in Ysundeneth. His clothing was fine and clean. His chin was shaven and his hair newly washed and tied back in a ponytail that he had draped over his left shoulder. Rumours of shortages of water had clearly not been entirely accurate as far as he was concerned. Or perhaps the Tuali had control of the wells and feeds. Most likely they did.

Pelyn tried to see inside him to the ula she knew very well and who had often been vocal in his support for her. The Al-Arynaar had replaced the civil peacekeepers very soon after Takaar’s flight and the closure of the gate. They were unpopular in some quarters, naturally. Helias had been right behind them.

But now, of course, the Al-Arynaar were the created arm of a discredited hero. The police of a society that no longer existed. And Helias was nothing if not a fine judge of mood and the direction of the wind. What Pelyn saw in his eyes was contempt because that was what his new-found acolytes expected to see. Pelyn wondered if there was something more behind that.

‘Well, this is a rather interesting surprise. Pelyn. Cascarg of Shorth. Apparently. Not sure I believe that. But there are things I do believe. Fervently.’

Helias edged his blade under the first of the ropes binding her. The rope was neither particularly thick nor particularly strong. Helias jerked his blade up. The rope sheared to cheers from the assembled Tuali.

‘I believe in the right of the Tuali to be the masters of their own fate within the race of elves. Not to touch earth to the Ynissul.’

His blade snagged the second band. Cut it.

‘I believe that those who supported the Ynissul in their efforts to regain dominion of the elves deserve nothing but the eternal hatred of the thread into which they were born.’

And then to the third band. Cut it.

‘I believe that Takaar’s harmony was a millennium-long sham. An apology for the subjugation of every other thread by the Ynissul and a cloak for its continuance under the murderous iron fist of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar.’

And so to the final band. Cut.

‘And I believe that those Tualis who would carry Ynissul children are not merely efra. They are unfit for life.’

The mob around Helias howled their agreement. Elves closed in, shutting out the pale light of dawn that had just begun to edge out the night. Helias crouched down next to Pelyn’s head and put his face very close to hers. She could smell the sweat on his clothes and the coarse alcohol on his breath. She was baking hot inside the cloak and Helias’s sour breath wasn’t helping her growing feeling of nausea. She found she wasn’t scared. Frustrated. The only thing she feared was not being allowed to speak. That would be a disaster for all those who stood about her, baying for her blood.

‘I know what you are,’ he hissed into her ear. ‘And I know what you believe I am. But I am not so ignorant. And what you would tell us, I do not wish my brothers and sisters to hear.’

Pelyn could barely focus on his face but she could see the unpleasant grin on it.

‘What?’ he said. ‘You think an ula should not look after himself first? Please.’

‘You always were a snake, Helias.’

‘I can live with it. I can’t say the same for you.’

Pelyn was going to die. The certainty pained her and she let her head fall back to the ground. Helias got to his knees, sheathed his short blade and took out a knife.

‘Let us see, shall we, what is inside this pod. Let us feast on the Al-Arynaar uncloaked.’ Helias’s leered down at her. ‘I know the rules of the pod. And you always hid yourself from me. Such a shame, my pretty. Such a shame.’

Helias drew the knife down the length of her cloak. The stitching sliced easily and her covering fell aside.

Pelyn smiled. ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘You really should be more careful what you expose.’

Pelyn sat up fast and her left fist made an intensely satisfying connection with his chin.

Chapter 21

The general you serve cannot save your life in battle. Only those who stand beside you can do that.

Takaar felt at his smooth scalp again. There were a few scratches. And his chin. That was smooth too. And now his head was cold. He wondered if his hair would regrow. Meanwhile, he might have to fashion a hat from something. The rain hurt his head when it was very hard. Lucky he had the forest to cover him. It was in the mornings he might suffer though. Out there on the cliff edge. Talking with his tormentor. There the rain could be very hard indeed.

Troubling. All very troubling.

Auum was nearby. Auum would help him. Like he’d helped him shave. Like he was helping him hunt. He was good, this Auum. Very quiet. Very accurate. Had a lot to learn, mind you. And he was very rude. Wouldn’t speak to the tormentor at all when they were in the camp.

Troubling.

And why was he here, that was something else. Takaar feared what he might ask. What he might want of Takaar. Takaar wanted to remain here. Here he could live. Here he could hide.

Here you can wallow in your guilt and make excuses for your continued existence.

‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Takaar. ‘You aren’t invited.’

I go where I please. I watch what I want.

‘Don’t get in the way of the javelin.’

I’ll be right behind you.

Takaar glanced across at Auum, who was all but invisible, crouched by the trunk of a fig tree. Takaar raised his eyebrows and spread his hands. Auum frowned and went to put a finger to his lips. Stopped himself but Takaar saw the gesture anyway. The student teaching the teacher. Time to see how much he really knew.

The jao deer they had been tracking was a tasty prize. Small, quick and well camouflaged it was a night walker, preferring to keep hidden during the day, when the risk of attack from panthers was higher in this part of the forest. Takaar and Auum had tracked it to a bubbling stream fed by a beautiful cascade falling from an ivy-covered crag about forty feet high. The splash pool was small but deep and a favourite of many of Tual’s denizens.

Safe too. Neither panther nor elf killed there. Muddying the poolside with the blood of a kill kept others away for days on end. This time, though, Takaar could indulge in the luxury of flushing the deer towards his hunting partner. Risky. He did not know Auum’s skill with a javelin, and the one he had given the TaiGethen was a little rough and didn’t fly so true. They might go hungry if there was too much Auum didn’t understand.

Takaar indicated to Auum to be ready and set off towards the pool. It was an idyllic sight. The water splashing down, the deer, long elegant neck extended so it could drink its fill. Its ears twitched continually, hunting for any sound of a predator. Takaar, though, was silent. He moved to the edge of the small clearing. The soft brown and red markings on the deer’s flanks rippled as it breathed and swallowed.

Takaar edged slightly to his left. He felt the ground beneath him give slightly and he rocked back. He moved his foot and replaced it. Firm and noiseless. He glanced at Auum. He had not moved. The javelin was still held tip down in his right hand. Takaar wondered if he had understood the plan.

Oh, another disappointment looms.

Takaar did not respond. Something about Auum and the set of his body, the penetrating gaze, suggested competence and confidence in equal measure. So be it. Takaar circled round a little more. The deer raised its head. Its small bob tail flicked a warning. It had sensed but not heard.

Takaar could take it right here. His throw would be unimpeded. Jao deer roasting over a fire would taste sweet. But this was a lesson, was it not? And he had outlined the deer’s movement on the run at some length earlier in the night. Theory over. Practice separated a good ear from a good aim.

Takaar stepped from cover and clapped his hands sharply. The deer looked down the length of its back, startled. It set off. Its first bound high to escape the jaws of a panther. It hit the ground and darted left. Past a single tree it switched right, its agility improbable if described rather than seen. It ran low. Another high bound. Another change of direction.

Auum had cocked and thrown his javelin in the smoothest movement Takaar had ever seen. He did not throw with too much force, keeping his shape compact and holding his follow-through for a heartbeat. The javelin’s flight was flat and fast, the slightly uneven shaft wobbling. The deer switched direction again, twisting its body back on itself and planting its feet to spring.

The javelin struck it at the base of the neck, burrowing deep to pierce its heart. The animal sprawled to the ground, still and dead. Auum moved swiftly from cover to crouch by the deer. Takaar remained where he was. He felt a lightness in his heart that he had not experienced in a long time and never on Calaius.

Auum removed the javelin and propped it against a tree. He picked up the deer and slung it across his shoulders. He retrieved the javelin and looked over at Takaar.

‘Hungry?’ he said and could not keep the smile from his face.

Takaar glanced over his shoulder.

‘Disappointment? Wrong again and another victory for me.’

But it won’t end here, will it? Has he come here to treat with you or to kill you?

‘You’re hoping I’ll let down my guard.’

Since you are too craven to kill yourself, I’m left with little else. Think you can beat him if he comes at you?

‘I am Takaar.’

You were.

‘I’m sorry?’

Auum was walking towards him. Takaar flapped a hand.

‘It is nothing. A private conversation. Well done. A clean kill. You’ve hunted the jao before?’

‘Never like this. Thank you.’

Takaar wobbled on his feet. Something was coming. Through the ground and through the air. It grabbed his brain and squeezed. It clutched his gut and twisted. It lay on his chest and grew heavy. Takaar blinked. Dawn was here. Why was it so dark?

Pelyn was on her feet before Helias had hit the ground. She lashed a kick into the side of his face and another into his kidney before the mob engulfed her. She was borne backwards, rough hands and arms about her waist, chest, neck and head. She was hurled to the ground and rolled in the mud. She bounced quickly to her feet. She was surrounded. Weapons were held out. The mob began to close, trampling her cloak. A couple of ulas helped Helias to his feet. He spat blood from his mouth and advanced on her. This time, though, he had armed help.

‘Listen to me,’ she said, trying to catch the eye of any she could. ‘Helias will deliver you all to the Ynissul. He is with them. Men are coming. Landing at the harbour. Please.’

How much they heard was impossible to know. The howls of abuse reached a new crescendo as soon as she opened her mouth. Two spears were levelled at her, their points clean and sharp. One was to her gut, the other to her neck. She backed away and felt hands on her back. Elves gripped her arms and held her at a gesture from Helias. He waved for quiet.

‘I’m disappointed,’ he said. ‘Desperate lies from a mouth so beautiful atop a body so perfect.’

Helias wiped at his mouth and nose. Pelyn was suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness but made no attempt to jerk her hands free to cover herself. Instead, she stood taller, prouder.

‘Come and take a closer look,’ she said.

‘I’ll have as much time for that as I need,’ said Helias. ‘So will every other ula with a mind to do so.’

There was cheering in the mob. Pelyn spat on the ground at Helias’s feet.

‘And every iad will be delighted their leader is a common rapist.’

Helias walked forward and crashed his fist into her nose. Pelyn felt bone crack and a wave of pain shudder through her head. Blood began to flow. The cut she had sustained yesterday reopened too, stinging her face.

‘Oh dear,’ said Helias. ‘I appear to have spoiled the view.’

‘Llyron was right,’ said Pelyn, the salt taste of blood in her mouth. ‘Elves are no more than animals.’

She found her strength renewed. Her death seemed inevitable. The brutalisation of her body equally so. But there was a chink. She could try to exploit it. Force it wide. Her last retort, though, she knew that to be an error the moment she uttered it.

‘Oh!’ Helias stepped back and spread his arms wide, turning in a circle to encompass the hundreds who stood around them. Ula and iad, the enraged and the anxious. ‘Hear that from our former protector? We are all animals. Let us disperse back to our hides and holes and think on the error of our ways.’

The rhythmic cheering and chanting, growing in volume, reminded Pelyn of a distorted version of the chamber of the Gardaryn. Helias was its bastard Speaker and, surrounding him, government and public were one.

‘We are mistaken, all of us! Berate yourselves. You aren’t here to ensure the security of the Tualis. You aren’t here to make sure there is food and water for your families. You aren’t here to fight for a better tomorrow for your thread. I have misled you all. You are nothing more than a pack of dogs. O Arch of the Al-Arynaar, thank you for taking the veil from our eyes.’

The laughter from the mob was hard, aggressive. Faces took on manic looks. Pelyn felt her heart skip.

‘You are better than this,’ she shouted into the gale of noise. ‘Remember who you are. This is none of us. Please. Face the real enemy. It isn’t me. It isn’t me!’

Helias turned on Pelyn again. He stalked up and grabbed her chin, forcing her head back. He pressed himself against her, and those behind her made sure she couldn’t push away. His body reeked of lust and was puffed with his power. Pelyn tried to turn her face away but his grip was strong. His fingers and thumb dug into her cheeks. Blood dripped down onto his hand.

‘You are no enemy; you are nothing more than a common murderer. A cascarg, efra. And you are wasting our time. There is a fight going on here which your meddling will not distract us from any longer. You fail to understand what is truly happening. Why the threads ripped apart so quickly. The old order must not be reestablished. We must battle for the ground we want, as must every thread.’