James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘I’ll do my best. The short answer is: they’re there because the Wytch Lords have ordered them to be there. Very simple and straightforward. But the Wesmen themselves have coveted the eastern lands, my lands, for hundreds if not thousands of years. The other side of the mountains is barren for the most part. The ground is rocky and living is tough.

‘So they want our lands, and I don’t blame them, but what they hate most is our magic. They have none themselves and they see it as the barrier to their victory over the east. The Wesmen have long desired the destruction of human magic, and the Wytch Lords are promising them that. The irony, of course, is that they are merely trading one dominant magic for another.’

‘I don’t think I’m following this,’ said Marack. ‘We’ve already fought these Wesmen and they are brave and organised people. They aren’t savages. Why would they put themselves in the Wytch Lords’ thrall?’

‘At the risk of lecturing, it’s not a choice that the tribal lords would have made. Their belief is in strength of arms and numbers. But there is an uneasy relationship between the tribes and their shamen. The tribes are riven with infighting, and this has been their weakness for as long as anyone can remember. Occasionally a lord will rise with the strength to lead a significant alliance, but for the most part it is the shamen who talk to each other, practise their revolting spirit religion together and seek influence beyond the spheres of their own tribes. They were easy prey for the Wytch Lords and once the shamen were seduced, forcing the Wesmen to fight for them was relatively easy, though not all have bent the knee.’

There was a silence. Auum glanced across at Takaar and knew he was listening too. There was an oddly bright expression on his face, as if he’d had some sort of revelation. Auum suddenly felt just a little bit uneasy and he could see at least Marack and Ulysan were thinking much the same.

‘Seems to me we might be fighting on the wrong side,’ said Auum, keeping a smile firmly on his face. ‘After all, you lot losing your capacity to cast would help us out enormously, don’t you think?’

Stein laughed but he shifted uncomfortably. ‘Want to side with the Wytch Lords, now do you?’

‘No, I want to see each of Ystormun’s bones in the mouth of a separate panther but the Wesmen warriors. . well we seem to have more in common with them than with you, don’t you think?’

Stein frowned, his discomfort gone and his usual confidence returned. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘We’ve both suffered at the hands of human magic. We both find that others amongst us practise magic against our better judgement, and while we grudgingly accept it has occasional benefits, we wish magic remained a rumour.’

Stein nodded. ‘It makes me sad to hear that, but I know why you feel that way.’

‘You have absolutely no idea at all,’ snapped Auum.

‘Forgive me,’ said Stein. ‘Your first experience of magic was of the appalling damage it can do. But there is so much more to magic than that. Your own Il-Aryn display healing, beneficial and defensive qualities that I would die to understand, let alone wield. And Julatsan magic is based on peace, although we fight when we must.

‘I’m sorry your view is tainted. Perhaps I can persuade you otherwise while you’re here.’

‘Good luck with that,’ said Ulysan.

‘As usual, Auum sees only what he wants to see and ignores that which is uncomfortable,’ said Takaar, walking into the firelight.

‘Always the grand entrance, Takaar,’ said Auum, feeling his muscles tighten and his mellow mood slip away. ‘Aren’t you tired from all that talking to yourself?’

Auum felt Ulysan grip his arm and he shook it off.

‘Don’t do this,’ whispered Ulysan. ‘You know he’s trying to goad you.’

‘He shouldn’t even be here,’ hissed Auum. ‘He puts the whole expedition on edge.’

‘Why won’t you accept what you are?’ asked Takaar, his face, his whole body imploring.

Auum folded his arms across his knees. ‘I have never had any trouble doing so.’

‘You cannot escape the Il-Aryn energies,’ said Takaar. ‘None of us can. It is what makes us.’

‘Go back to your campfire and your Senserii. Long day’s walk tomorrow.’

‘Don’t you remember, all those centuries ago, what we talked about in the forest outside Katura?’

Auum dropped his gaze. He remembered. The grief had overwhelmed him. Elyss had been murdered in front of his eyes and he had exacted revenge but not understood how. Takaar had told him.

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

Auum was uncomfortable, the eyes of his people on him now.

‘I told you then: every elf has the energies running through them, but not all realise this and fewer still can harness them.’

Auum shrugged. ‘What of it?’

Takaar laughed. ‘And still you refuse to see? Ystormun was searching for the answer with all his experiments on Garan and he failed to grasp the most basic fact. Don’t be as ignorant as him.’

‘Be careful where you tread,’ muttered Ulysan.

‘You are a faithful lieutenant, Ulysan, and his denial is your denial.’

‘I’m tired, Takaar. Make your point and go away.’

Takaar smiled in the superior way he used when he felt he was imparting something of great importance to the unenlightened.

‘You hate magic but you are magic.’

Auum blinked slowly. ‘You don’t get any better, do you?’

‘Every elf carries the Il-Aryn with them; all are inherently magical. It is what gives us our long life. I manifest my energies as an Il-Aryn master, you manifest yours, as do all of the TaiGethen, through your speed of thought and body.’

Auum surged to his feet and marched across to Takaar.

‘How dare you denigrate the gifts of my god? Our god! Yniss bestowed upon us all that we are. He blessed us with the abilities we display. This is not magic, it is faith and it is strength of body. It is belief and it is the work of centuries. We are one with the land because it is the place of our birth. No magic runs through my blood or guides my hand.’

Auum pushed Takaar hard but the mad elf did not stumble.

‘You cannot deny what you are.’

‘I do not,’ snarled Auum. ‘I am born of Yniss and that is my glory, that is who I am. Take your heresy and get out of my sight.’

He pushed Takaar again and heard the Senserii stand and fan out. The TaiGethen did the same.

Auum shook his head. ‘Sit down, Gilderon. I’ll not hurt him. His words do that for him. Just keep him away from me.’

‘You will work it out one day,’ said Takaar, apparently oblivious to Auum’s anger. ‘I don’t expect thanks when you do.’

Auum stared at him, seeing his wild eyes flicking around, unable to settle as the battle in his mind played out yet again.

‘Then you’ll not be disappointed, will you?’

Auum turned his back and waved his TaiGethen to sit down, but he could not. Waving away Ulysan’s offer of company, he walked out into the night to be alone.

Auum carried his mood into the morning. The first sight of the colours of Balaia in daylight had not improved his temper. The Blackthorne Mountains were an oppressive force always in the periphery of his right eye, lowering down. The grass Stein had described as beautiful on the rolling hills was a coarse knee-high pale green plant equally poor for walking through and hiding in.

There were trees dotted here and there, but their scarcity was shocking and what there were had thin trunks, small leaves and looked fit to keel over at the merest push. The dominant ground feature was the Wesmen’s path driving straight for Julatsa. By midmorning they could see the city on the horizon, though it was largely obscured by dust and smoke.