Elves: Once Walked With Gods (9 page)

‘We’ll get Aryndeneth back,’ said Auum. ‘We’ll right this wrong. Yniss will not turn from us.’

‘Can’t you feel it, Auum? Everything we believe in. All that we are as elves is at risk. The blood of men is staining the floor of our temple and an Ynissul priest invited them inside. The harmony is failing.’

‘That is an inescapable conclusion.’ Auum’s smile was hollow. ‘Talkative for a Silent Priest, aren’t you?’

‘These are unusual times. And they call for unusual solutions.’

‘Meaning?’

Auum could see Serrin nagging at his lower lip as he wondered whether to say what he wanted to suggest.

‘The threads will tear themselves apart. The elves will be in conflict again. Just like the War of Bloods.’

‘Worse,’ said Auum. ‘This time, we don’t have Takaar to unite us.’

Serrin stared at him. ‘Don’t be so sure.’

Auum almost lost his balance.

‘He will not come. He turned his back ten years ago. We don’t know if he is even still alive.’

But despite his protestations Auum’s heart began to race and something that felt like hope coursed through his body.

‘Do you really believe him dead? Takaar?’ Serrin paused. ‘You have to find him, convince him. I have to take word of what’s happened here back to Ysundeneth, to Jarinn and Katyett. News of your mission too.’

‘I am your shadow. I will not leave you.’

Serrin placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Our paths will cross again soon enough. Do this for me. Bring him towards Ysundeneth. I’ll find you.’

Auum nodded. ‘Where is he?’

‘Verendii Tual,’ said Serrin. ‘He is an ula with more power than he knows but be careful. Ten years of solitude will not have been kind.’

‘This is the plan of a monkey-brain,’ said Auum.

‘In a land being consumed by those with their eyes turned from God, he with a monkey-brain will reign.’

‘That is not in the scriptures.’

‘Not yet,’ said Serrin. ‘Not yet.’

Chapter 7

When you enter battle you are always fighting three enemies at once. Your fear, your foe and his courage.

The heat in the Gardaryn was stultifying. The bedlam that had greeted the end of Lorius’s address had gone on and on, with Helias apparently unwilling to bring the chamber to order as protocol demanded. But Jarinn did not look for help or support. He merely waited for the noise to recede.

‘Lorius displays much passion,’ he said eventually.

Katyett waited for the baying of the crowd to begin again but instead they stilled and turned to face him, listening.

‘And he speaks with some measure of truth,’ continued the high priest of Yniss.

‘Look at that,’ breathed Merrat.

‘There’s still hope while they remember they love him,’ said Katyett, and a little warmth stole into her heart.

‘I will not speak for long. I am an old elf, though I might not look it, and standing is tiring.’

The glint in Jarinn’s eyes was picked up by those close to the stage. Laughter broke out and one wag even reminded the high priest of his immortality.

‘Ah but, my friend, though you are right, no Ynissul is impervious to illness, steel or other infirmity. And I can assure you that immortality can seem a curse when one suffers from arthritis.’

A theatrical ‘Ahhh!’ rose from the crowd. Jarinn raised his hands.

‘But I am not here to garner sympathy; I am here to return our people to a state of reason and logic and to avoid a descent into blood.’

The boos and catcalls began again.

‘Well what did you expect - that I would agree with him? Now let me address one of the things he said which worries me deeply. I hear that Ynissul are being inserted into all positions of authority that come available. This is unacceptable. I will consult with Lorius and we will right that balance. I apologise that I was not fully aware before today. Aryndeneth is a distant temple.’

Silence, then thunderous applause.

‘They believe him,’ said Grafyrre.

‘That shouldn’t surprise you,’ said Katyett. ‘Let’s face it: if anyone is trusted to always tell the truth, it is Jarinn.’

‘For the most part, I am not going to respond to High Priest Lorius, an ula that I respect and am proud to call a friend,’ said Jarinn. ‘I will tell you what I believe and you will have to judge whether my beliefs are worthy of today’s harmony. Will you listen to me?’

A few hoots of contempt but in the main a respectful silence fell.

‘Thank you. Here is what Takaar means to us. He means twelve hundred years of peace. He means the War of Bloods is a distant memory. He means a society that embraces all its threads and strives to treat them with equality. Why would you tear that up?

‘Lorius speaks of Takaar’s failure as a catalyst for an Ynissul attempt to return to dominance. He is mistaken. I stand here before you, high priest of Yniss, and I tell you that the Ynissul do not wish for dominance. I do not wish for dominance. All I want to do is serve my god, serve my people and serve our glorious land.

‘If Takaar’s law has taught us anything, it is that we are one. We cannot exist as warring threads. Look how our population has grown during the harmony. Look how all our gods are stronger. Look at how much more we know. Temples bulge with scriptures. Our rainforest provides everything we need to keep our bodies healthy. Working together has brought us comfort of mind and body.

‘Why would you tear that up?’

Jarinn paused. He scanned the crowd, who stared at him, utterly silent now. Jarinn’s voice had a compelling quality to it. He didn’t speak at great volume. He didn’t have to. Katyett knew what each and every ula and iad in the chamber felt. It was like Jarinn was talking to them, and them alone.

‘Takaar ever was an enigma. Most of you here probably never met him, much less saw him in action. A braver elf there has never been, and will never be. Two hundred and more years before any of us travelled here, before Takaar opened the gateway, it was he who saw the path to our salvation. He was the first to openly declare his love for every elf who walked the land under the gaze of our gods. And it was he who cut to the heart of the conflict and made us understand our stupidity.

‘The War of Bloods. Very grand in name but we were merely fighting about who lived the longest. We might just as well have been fighting over the size of our hands or the colour of our hair. These things are not within our control. I did not choose to be born an Ynissul, nor did Lorius choose to be born a Tuali. Accidents of birth.

‘Are you cursed if you are Gyalan and relatively short-lived? No. You enjoy a purity of soul that no Ynissul can ever know. There is joy in that. And ask any man from the north if they would consider a lifespan of four hundred years and more short? The blink-lives are jealous of all of our longevities. Theirs is such a brief ember, is it not? If you were human, you could understand that causing conflict, yes?’

Laughter spread around the chamber.

‘Takaar taught us to embrace our differences. To use our strengths to help each other, not to divide us. And he succeeded, didn’t he? Yes, he did. So that is what Takaar and Takaar’s law has brought us. Twelve hundred years of peace, harmony and understanding. Remember that. It is an indisputable truth.’

Jarinn paused again and surveyed the crowd.

‘So to the events of a decade ago and the reason we are all in here, rather than without, enjoying the beauty of our land. Takaar failed. His courage faltered on that fateful day. A great many elves lost their lives. All these facts are irrefutable.

‘Consider this also. That in the forty days before Takaar fell from grace, his actions with the Garonin pressing on towards the walls of Tul-Kenerit saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Indeed on the day before, nine thousand came through the gate from Hausolis to find sanctuary here on Calaius. These facts are irrefutable. We have every scrap of paperwork to prove it.

‘And finally, think on this. When Takaar’s courage faltered, he ran. And that is a shame he must forever bear. And he ran through the portal and into the streets of Ysundeneth. There is an argument that it was his only hope of escaping the Garonin. And that is probably true. But it also demonstrates a mind still keen despite the torture he must have been experiencing. Popular hatred dictates that he ran through and marooned a hundred thousand. Imagine if he had not? We all know that the Garonin wanted the gateway more than any elven heart. Takaar stopped them when the gate collapsed in his wake. And in doing so, he saved each and every one of you.’

There was a murmuring in the chamber. Lorius scoffed loudly.

‘It does not matter if this salvation was an unintended consequence of his flight. He achieved it anyway. I am not here to defend Takaar personally; I am here to tell you what will happen if his law is denounced along with him, if it is torn up and is no longer presided over by our gods.

‘Takaar’s law binds us. Tuali, Beethan, Ixii, Gyalan, Orran, Ynissul, whoever our god and whatever our longevity in our land. It is a guiding hand when there is doubt. It is the spine of our race. The fire in the darkest of places and the sun after the rains have come. It is rooted as deeply within us now as is the air we breathe here. It links us, gives us strength and unity. It stays the hand of the wronged. It is the embrace for those who need succour.

‘Takaar’s law is the heart of the elves. Rip it out and you will reap sorrow and bloodshed. No one denies we have problems but we must work through them together. As Takaar taught us. Denounce him and his law and be lessened. Be turned from the path to greatness. Be no better than men.

‘Do not turn from Takaar. Not now. Not ever. Every challenge is surmountable. Every grievance can be resolved. But not if you tear the spine from our body. Walk with me and, as Takaar once did, walk with gods.

‘Thank you for hearing me.’

The applause was deafening but not so febrile as that which had followed Lorius’s speech. Eloquent, empathetic, sincere. But Katyett’s smile was sad.

‘Has he done enough?’ asked Grafyrre.

‘Oh, Graf, what do you think?’

‘I think we’d better be ready to do exactly what Lorius accused us of waiting to do,’ said Grafyrre.

‘Yniss preserve us for what is to come,’ whispered Merrat.

Katyett gathered herself to see the inevitable unfold. A few spoke in support of Lorius and were cheered to the rafters. A few, a very few including Pelyn, spoke for Jarinn and were taunted and shouted down. Agitators were moving among the crowd and the calm Jarinn had engendered dissolved into a broiling expectancy.

Pelyn had stood before a withering barrage of abuse. They called her traitor and coward. They called her slave to the Ynissul. Only once did she raise her eyes to the rafters and Katyett saw in her eyes all the pain of memory that she carried with her. Al-Arynaar warriors were gathering in the wings, ready to augment those already stretched across the front of the stage. Much of the crowd was on its feet now and there was a distinct bunching forward.

Katyett called the TaiGethen to her. Fifteen of them, five cells, swarming over the timbers and barely even disturbing the dust.

‘You all know which way this is going to go. You know our priorities. No blades. We cannot afford blood on our hands. Positions. May Yniss bless your every move.’

Katyett led Grafyrre and Merrat towards the front of the stage, where they stopped directly above the trio of lecterns. Others moved further back to wait above the stage in front of the ranks of seats. There was nervousness among the dignitaries below and some could be seen clearly eyeing up escape routes should things turn nasty.

Katyett kept her eyes on the crowd. She could see four Tualis near the front of the chamber. They were spread across the front of the stage and about three rows back in the press. She could see them shouting, leaning in to whisper and leading chants against Takaar.

‘See them?’ asked Katyett.

‘Yes,’ said Grafyrre.

‘If it comes to it, take them down quickly.’

Pelyn had stopped speaking and the howls of abuse and bile followed her back to her seat. Katyett watched her and saw the hand signals she gave to her warriors. The TaiGethen Arch bit her lip. It could all get out of hand very quickly. She couldn’t catch Pelyn’s eye and the Al-Arynaar leader had turned an expression full of anger on the crowd.

Helias raised his hands for quiet and the room stilled like the sky before thunder. Jarinn and Lorius moved back to their positions.

‘Now we come to it,’ said Helias, and Katyett had to smile at his penchant for the dramatic. ‘You have heard the speeches from both sides of the debate. Words of passion, energy and belief. But it is you who will decide on this most critical of matters. Which way will you go? Think on it and hear the closing lines from Jarinn and, first, from Lorius. And may I remind you all of protocol at this time. Respect your priests, respect your gods and respect the history of this place. Lorius, please.’

Lorius nodded. ‘Brothers and sisters. A vote to denounce is not a vote to destroy the harmony. It is a vote to embrace a new way forward, an equal way forward, for all elves of all threads. A vote for peace and the glory of all our gods.’

‘Jarinn, please,’ said Helias.

Jarinn nodded. ‘Brothers and sisters. Denouncing Takaar’s law rips the spine from the body of elven harmony. The one cannot exist without the other. Vote to keep the law. Vote to keep the harmony and avoid a headlong fall into bloodshed and hatred.’

Helias nodded at each priest in turn.

‘Thank you. And now the chamber shall be seated.’

Katyett’s heart was thundering in her chest. Across the chamber, elves found chair, bench and floor space. Many could only crouch. Others sat on friends. The murmur of conversation was loud and constant, the buzz of anticipation like a plague of approaching insects.

‘Now we vote,’ said Helias. ‘I will have silence. And I will have decorum throughout or the vote shall be called void.’

The buzz and hum died away. The sounds of the crowd outside mingled with the cacophony of the surrounding rainforest and the drumming of rain on the roof.

‘Those who would see Takaar’s law remain, who would see Takaar’s name still held in reverence by Yniss, stand now.’