James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘There is no more important task than the safety and security of our people.’ Auum sighed. ‘Look, let’s not do this wrong. Right now I can see panic across the city, ships in the harbour and my people gathered here for no particular purpose. Talk to me, Takaar. What do we face? Where is Stein?’

‘See, I told you he would believe me,’ said Takaar, looking to his right, apparently addressing his other self. He frowned. ‘Tell him, Auum. You do believe me, don’t you?’

Auum noted Takaar’s lieutenants — Drech was one, he didn’t recognise the other — switch their attentions to the table. Drech gave the merest shrug and Auum wished, not for the first time, that he was more than the tacit leader of the Il-Aryn.

‘I believe that not even you would call a muster without cause.’

Takaar looked to his right again.

‘Well I would call it a ringing endorsement. And we must be ready or we will be swept aside.’

Auum waited while Takaar descended into spitting and muttering, the mad elf’s hands clenching a piece of parchment and finally ripping it into pieces.

‘Takaar, where is Stein?’ asked Auum gently, cursing himself for a fool for not seeing Takaar’s delicate state sooner. ‘Why did you send your adepts to Balaia to train with humans? With our enemies?’

Takaar focused on him briefly before laughing at something his other self had said.

‘Well we can agree there,’ he said. ‘No combat magic on Herendeneth. Only place to go is Julatsa.’

Auum frowned. ‘And Julatsa is. .?’

‘The human magical college and city most closely aligned to the Il-Aryn in terms of ethics and magical constructions.’

Takaar was so far within himself, Auum doubted he had heard Drech’s answer. With a tip of his head he indicated Drech should come around the table and speak with him. But before he moved, Auum pointed at Takaar’s other lieutenant.

‘You, make sure he has water to hand and a place to sit when he comes back to himself.’

The iad bobbed her head nervously. Takaar stared at Auum through faraway eyes.

‘Where are you going? We have so much to discuss. So much work to do.’

‘It’s all under control,’ said Auum. ‘Just one question: how many of your adepts are in Julatsa right now?’

Takaar smiled broadly. ‘The programme is working so well. Our adepts have been welcomed by the Julatsans. They have shared their knowledge in return for the best of training in key castings where our lore and energies connect.’

Auum felt his heart rate increasing and a crawling sensation across his shoulders.

‘How many, Takaar?’

‘Our current success currently numbers four hundred and seventeen.’

Auum gaped, he couldn’t help himself. He licked his lips, trying to frame a response, but his mind was struggling to comprehend the ramifications of that number. It was beyond his darkest fears, potentially catastrophic beyond measure. And all the while Takaar smiled at him as if he’d made a decision that would bring them peace for eternity.

‘It is truly amazing, isn’t it?’ said Takaar. ‘What do you say, Auum?’

Auum felt his control slip and he had no desire to regain it. He reached out and grabbed Takaar by his collar, hauling him across the table. Papers and weights scattered across the stone warehouse floor. Takaar’s feet caught on the table edge, tipping it over to hit the ground with a resounding crack.

Auum turned and pushed Takaar ahead of him, pushing him up against a wall with enough force to shake off dust and rattle the contents of nearby shelving. Takaar’s smile was gone now, replaced by an expression of pained confusion. Auum spoke quietly though he knew every eye in the warehouse was on them.

‘I’ll tell you what I say. I say that you have trapped more than half of your magical strength on an enemy continent an ocean away from here. Four hundred and more who you have promised to the defence of Calaius should the day come. I say that you have left our people vulnerable, and yet your answer is to send more of our defenders after those surely already lost.

‘I say that once again you have demonstrated your utter unsuitability to be in any position of influence or power. I am done with you.’

Takaar laughed in his face. ‘You should be pleased, shouldn’t you? Four hundred of the adepts you so hate and wish had never been created, able to cast the magic you despise and deny can help us, are overseas. Now’s your chance to show us how the mighty TaiGethen alone can defend Calaius from what is coming.’

‘And what is coming?’ asked Auum. ‘No, strike that. I don’t want to hear any more from you. I’ll ask the question of someone capable of answering it.’

He let Takaar go and the mad elf sank to his haunches, back to the wall. Auum turned on his heel and strode towards Drech, who was standing with Ulysan and a human: Stein. Auum ignored Takaar’s taunting and abuse and the angry stares of his acolytes.

‘Get him out of here,’ said Auum to Ulysan.

‘Got a point, though, hasn’t he?’ said the big TaiGethen.

Auum shrugged. ‘Yes. Magic is damaging, as he proves daily. Those four hundred should be wearing the cloak of the Al-Arynaar, shouldn’t they? I wish they were not Il-Aryn but they are. And at the base of it all, we need bodies here when our enemies attack.’

Another tirade of abuse struck Auum’s broad back.

‘I’ll find him a place to lie down,’ said Ulysan.

Auum turned to Stein, appraising the human carefully. He was a confident man, confident enough not to be cowed by the presence of the TaiGethen. His bearing was proud and his features, bold and prominent, reminded Auum of his ancestor of seven hundred years past. But it was his eyes that truly marked him of the line of the first Stein. And it was the birthmark across his palm that granted him the right to speak.

‘Sorry about the altercation,’ said Auum. ‘Takaar and I have our. . differences. What is it?’

Stein was smiling and he was shaking his head gently, musing on something.

‘I’m sorry. This may be hard for you to comprehend, but you and Takaar are elves whose tales have been told, whose names and deeds have been passed down through the generations of our family for hundreds and hundreds of years. And here you stand, free of the ravages of time, at least physically. For me it is simply amazing that you can have lived for so long. For you, of course, it is normal.’

Auum thought for a moment before holding out his hand in the way he remembered humans did. Stein took it and shook it, a broad smile breaking out on his face.

‘If my history is correct, you would not shake the first Stein’s hand.’

‘Perhaps I’ve grown soft over the centuries,’ said Auum. ‘You risked your life to come here to warn us of invasion or worse. For that I thank you.’

‘Yes, but it isn’t altruism that brought me here. We need your help. We must have your help. And whatever else you believe about Takaar, he is right about the need to take ship.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you cannot beat what is coming on the shores of Calaius.’

‘And you’re honest too. Your elvish is excellent, by the way,’ said Auum. He glanced about him. Ulysan was leaning over Takaar, speaking quietly and firmly. ‘This is not the place for this discussion. We’ll go to the harbour master’s house. Drech, I need you too. Faleen, take the rest of the TaiGethen, find as many cloaks as you can. We need to quell the panic. Tais, my friends, we move.’

Auum sat at an ancient pitted and scarred wooden table in the harbour master’s kitchen. The master had a cauldron of guarana and lemon-grass infusion on the embers and all three present had steaming mugs of the invigorating drink in front of them. Stein had eyed his with some suspicion but on trying it declared himself an instant convert.