Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen (33 page)

‘I am unused to repeating myself.’

‘The Tualis rule here. I am Tuali.’

Takaar opened another cut in the
ula
’s face, this time across his left cheek.

‘And so is Pelyn, making her your property, I suppose.’

‘She made her choice.’

‘That is a lie.’ Takaar laced three cuts into the Tuali’s ribcage. ‘Do you know what you have done here?’

‘We have taken Katura for the Tuali. The other threads can’t thwart us for long. Not without the Al-Arynaar.’

‘You’ve taken it for the Tuali and made a gift of it for man!’

Takaar nodded, slashing the blade deep into the Tuali’s forehead.

‘Oh yes, they are coming. Where will your power be when the spells start to fall?’

He opened up the
ula
’s chin.

‘You’ve told me what I need to know. Now you must answer to Shorth.’

Takaar drove his dagger blade through the
ula
’s eye and into his brain, killing him instantly. Takaar let the body fall. He looked at his hands and saw they were trembling. On the floor he saw what he had done to Pelyn’s rapist with fresh eyes, and he felt sick at the sight.

You should be proud.

‘Only that he is dead. This is not me. It can’t be.’

Oh dear, reality bites you again.

Takaar cleaned the dagger on the
ula
’s ripped grey shirt and turned away. The other Tualis were dead, their blood soaking into a rug whose original pattern had already been wholly obscured by grime. Blood was pooling on the timbers and filling the gaps between them. Takaar bent over the bodies and pulled his blades clear. He moved to the bed and cleaned them on the edge of the base sheet before sheathing them.

Finally, he covered Pelyn’s body with the greasy damp top sheet and knelt by her head. She stank. There was mould on the threadbare pillow and dried vomit in her tangled, long and prematurely greying hair. The pillow, mattress and sheet were covered in sweat, blood and vomit stains.

Pelyn displayed all the symptoms of an abiding addiction to the worst of all elven narcotics. Crusted blood clung to her nostrils, and frothy drool ran from the corner of her mouth. Veins in her reddened ears pulsed and there was an intermittent twitch in the muscles of the right side of her face.

Her breathing was terribly faint and her face was pale to the point of whiteness, excluding the deep red and black smudges beneath her eyes. Her skin was cold to the touch and slack against her body, which was just so much skin and bone, so thin had she become.

Takaar sniffed and let his tears fall. His hand shook when he placed it on her chest to confirm the febrile heartbeat, finding her breast shrunk to nothing and her ribs far too prominent. He moved his hand down over her stomach, drawing on the Il-Aryn to help him discover the full extent of her physical degradation. Her vital organs were swollen and barely functional.

‘How did you fall so far?’ he whispered.

That’s what happens when those you love desert you.

‘It isn’t as simple as that and you know it.’

Strangely, I’m not solely blaming you. So many left her.

‘She was never strong enough for this.’

Takaar’s eyes came to rest on the table with its pipe and leather bag. Edulis. The whole city was rife with it, and here, at the heart of what should have been government, it held sway. A sweep of his hand scattered dust and bag and sent the clay pipe flying to shatter against a wall.

Takaar pushed himself to his feet, unable to sit and do nothing. There was a jug and bowl on a stand across the bedroom. Takaar filled the bowl, catching his reflection in the mirror above the stand. The elf who stared back at him was pinched and drawn, close to exhaustion. His eyes were wide to make sense of the dark and his hair needed cropping back down to his scalp. But in that face he could still see desire and belief.

Beautiful, aren’t you?

‘I’ve never been beautiful. But at least I’m still fighting.’

Yes, but fighting your inner demons doesn’t count.

‘That was almost funny.’

I do my best.

Takaar put a passably clean towel over his shoulder and brought the bowl over to the bedside table. He fed warmth into the water through his hands and let the steam invade his nostrils for a few moments before he dipped a corner of the towel into the water and began to clean her face.

‘This is bringing you back to life,’ he said. ‘Back to me. The dirt will wash away and you will break from the prison of your addiction. Together we will find the new Il-Aryn adepts and so the race of elves will survive the plague of man.’

It’s amazing what a little warm water can do, isn’t it?

Takaar heard footsteps outside the room. The door opened and light spilled in from the landing. He did not turn, leaving whoever it was to take in the blood and bodies on the floor as well as the bedside scene. Takaar dipped the towel in the water again and cleaned Pelyn’s mouth and nose.

‘Take the dead and go,’ said Takaar. ‘Pelyn is mine once more.’

Takaar heard the hiss of a sword leaving its scabbard. He turned his head and looked over his right shoulder. Two elves stood there. More Tualis. They couldn’t make up their minds whether to attack or run for help.

‘You really do not want to do that,’ said Takaar quietly.

The pair moved into the room a few paces.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

‘I am Takaar. I am bathing Pelyn. Washing the Tuali filth from her.’ He turned back to Pelyn, who had begun to shiver. She moaned and her eyes moved back and forth beneath their lids. ‘Shhh, my love. It will pass. Morning will see you open your eyes to a new life.’

A floorboard creaked. Takaar had a jaqrui cocked to throw. They had advanced but there was no will to fight in them.

‘Take the bodies or run for help. It makes no difference to me.’

‘You cannot stand against us all.’

‘I am not here to fight you.’ Takaar waved a hand. ‘Now leave me. You are intruding.’

Takaar rose to his feet and walked towards them, fighting to contain the anger that sought to control him.

‘Pelyn needs rest and peace,’ he hissed. ‘She needs cleansing. She does not need you, nor the bodies of her rapists, here to remind her of her suffering while she was helpless to resist.’

The two elves took a pace back. Takaar stepped over the two he had killed first.

‘Or perhaps you had come to join in . . . to take your turns? Why else would you come here?’

Takaar growled and his tormentor cackled. One of the elves shook his head and the other pointed at the blood-soaked floor.

‘The blood,’ he said. ‘It was dripping through the ceiling.’

‘You are right to be scared,’ said Takaar. ‘What you have done to Pelyn shall be revisited upon you tenfold when they arrive.’

‘Who?’

‘Man. Now leave. Let no one disturb us before dawn. Then I shall meet whoever it is who claims to lead you.’

‘You are in no position to make such demands.’

Want to bet?

Takaar turned away and resumed bathing Pelyn. She had sweat covering her face and neck and the shivering had intensified. Her breathing had become shallow and gasping.

‘I am sorry,’ said Takaar softly. ‘I should not have left you.’

Some who knew he was in the hall of the Al-Arynaar still had a spark of decency, and word of who he was had undoubtedly reached the ears of those who mattered. He was brought food, fresh hot water, clean towels and bedding and a long white shirt in which to dress Pelyn when he was done.

Takaar did not acknowledge any who entered the room. Whether they brought things in or took the bodies away they were all similarly ignored while he saw to his task. To thank them would have been pointless. It did not change what they wanted. Shows of generosity from enemies were only ever a means to a bloody end.

When he was done, he looked down on Pelyn. The marks of her addiction would never truly wash away. But at least she looked more like herself. And when she awoke to the sound of a lengthy deluge outside, he could at least bear to look at her.

Takaar could tell her eyes were slow in focusing. Several times she wiped shaking hands across her face. Eventually she recognised him. He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. The shutters were thrown open to admit light, air and water spray. The stench of filth and edulis was finally obscured by the fresh scent of rain.

‘Pelyn, can you forgive me for my long absence?’ he asked, his voice quiet, knowing her ears would be tremendously sensitive while the drug left her body.

Pelyn stared at him, those dark circles around her eyes giving her gaze a malevolent quality. She licked her dry lips and switched her gaze to the bedside table, which now held a bowl draped with towels. She shook her head and stared at Takaar again. Then she lunged at him. Takaar caught one of her wrists but her free hand slapped him across the face and she kicked at him, tried to bite and scratch him. She was weak, however, and he pushed her back onto the bed, holding her there while she bucked and twisted in fury.

‘Where’s my nectar!’ she shrieked. ‘What have you done with my nectar? Get it now. I paid for it. It’s mine by right.’

‘Pelyn, listen to me. Pelyn.’

‘I. Need. It.’

‘No, you don’t. Not any more.’

She stopped struggling for a moment while his words sank in. Her eyes widened and she screamed so high that Takaar had to release her and cover his ears. She scrambled off the bed and ran to her dresser, dragging open drawers, pulling at doors, throwing the contents about the room while she searched for the edulis Takaar knew she would not find.

He stood in the centre of the room and watched her, hoping her anger would burn out. Her weakened body gave way first and she sagged to the floor next to the connecting door that led to her office. She began to weep, muttering her desire over and over.

Congratulations. You have found the only elf on Calaius further down the path to madness than you.

‘Then it is up to me to bring her back.’

Yes, I’m sure she’d be delighted to achieve your level of sanity.

Takaar shrugged his shoulders as if that might dislodge his tormentor. He crouched by Pelyn but did not attempt to touch her. She was sitting with her back to the door, her legs stretched straight out and her eyes staring ahead. There were fresh beads of sweat on her brow and her whole face twitched as if beset by palsy.

‘Let me help you,’ said Takaar.

Pelyn barked out a bitter laugh and stared straight through him.

‘Your
help.
Prayers, platitudes and promises. All empty. What I—’ she drew in a shuddering breath ‘—
need
, you will not give me.’

‘It is a testament to the strength of your spirit that you are not already dead from this poison.’

‘Poison? Typical of the pious who have never tried the sweet nectar and lived the life of a mind without boundaries.’

‘I’ve seen that life, Pelyn. I saw it last night. I wish I could show you how it looked.’

‘Let me show you. I need more. Now.’

Pelyn was getting agitated again. She wiped her hands down her shirt and rubbed at her face. She wrinkled her nose.

‘You need to come back to me. I want Pelyn back. I want the Arch of the Al-Arynaar.’

Pelyn’s stare was so cold.

‘I haven’t seen you in a hundred and fifty years! Not you, and not Auum for fifty. The only one who stood by me was Methian, and even he has gone now. Where were you when it all began to unravel? Where were you when the thread gangs took over the streets and we were too few to turn back the tide?’ Her voice became a whisper. ‘Where were you when I had to sell myself to keep those loyal to me alive?

‘You’re too late, Takaar. Whatever you really want, you won’t find it here. I won’t help you. Not without more nectar.’

‘I will not support your habit to get what I came for. I won’t be complicit in your death.’

Pelyn leaned towards him and the breath that came from her was as rotten as the remaining teeth in her mouth. ‘You already are.’

Oh dear. You really have nothing she wants, do you?

‘Wrong,’ said Takaar. He rose to his feet. Pelyn watched him, a half-smile on her face. ‘How soon before the craving becomes unbearable, I wonder? How long will it take before you are begging me to give you what you need? Will you attack me again or just quiver away in a corner, waiting to prostitute yourself to whoever will supply you?’

Pelyn’s head had dropped to her chest. Her hands were wringing together and she couldn’t keep her legs still against the floor timbers.

‘It’ll be full dawn in an hour,’ said Takaar. ‘That’s your first goal because no one is coming up here until then. They think they have me trapped, you see, and so they won’t risk coming in when I specifically told them not to. And you think you have power over me too. If you say go, then I’ll go, right?’