James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘I must be allowed to go. I can divine it. Just think what that would mean. A force for good in the right hands.’

‘You are not the right hands,’ snapped Auum. He was feeling faint with the pain in his arm. The burning would not die and blood dripped down his arm from the knife wound. ‘How can you remain loyal to him, Gilderon?’

‘We believe in him. He found us and he saved us. We owe him our lives. Tell Ulysan to release him.’

‘He is a murderer, as just witnessed by you. I cannot let him go.’ Auum studied Gilderon’s face. ‘You do understand that, don’t you?’

Auum felt what he assumed was shock begin to descend on him. The vision of Drech’s death played out in his mind, overlaid by Takaar’s continuous babble. In front of him the Senserii were unmoved and his TaiGethen likewise. He had to find a way to end the stand-off before he lost the strength to stand. He looked down at Takaar. The elf was muttering to himself, in conversation with his tormentor. Time and again he named Dawnthief and the search he thought only he could undertake with any hope of success.

‘You cannot keep him here, you must see that. We will take him,’ said Gilderon. ‘But you must let him get up and leave with dignity.’

‘Dignity? Look what he did to Drech! Was that dignity or respect for another? He should leave in chains if he leaves here at all.’

Auum laid a hand on Ulysan’s shoulder, and the big elf relaxed and got up. Auum knelt and dragged Takaar to his feet with his good hand clamped on the collar of his shirt.

‘What did you just do?’ Auum screamed into Takaar’s face. ‘On a whim you killed the best you ever trained. Why did you do it? How could you do it?’

Takaar’s face dripped with sympathy for the ignorant.

‘He didn’t believe in me,’ he said.

‘What?’ Auum gaped. ‘I don’t believe in you. Are you going to kill me too?’

‘Is that what you’d like?’

Auum pushed him away to stumble into Gilderon’s arms.

‘Raise your hand to me and I will cut it off.’

‘This must end,’ said Gilderon.

Auum clutched his left shoulder, clamping his hand hard over the wound. His whole arm throbbed and he felt so tired. Dealing with Takaar was always such a drain. Every moment he was within Takaar’s sphere was a moment in which anything could go wrong. And now he had murdered his best student in cold blood. For nothing.

He should be put to death, but the blood that would flow when the Senserii attacked wasn’t worth it. Yet Takaar left alive was a horrible risk. He was capable of reappearing at any time, and what he chose to do could make the difference between defeat and victory.

‘You’ll take him to Korina?’ asked Auum.

Gilderon nodded. ‘Directly.’

‘He must not be allowed to go anywhere near the search area for Dawnthief. Yniss knows, he might just find it and hand it straight to the Wytch Lords.’

‘It will never fall into their hands,’ muttered Takaar. ‘I can hide it. Bring it home.’

‘On that condition, I will let him go with you,’ said Auum.

Gilderon nodded again. ‘Agreed.’

Auum stepped back. He looked up to the gatehouse.

‘Ulysan, get up there. Tell me what you see.’

Ulysan ran up the stone stairs and stared out.

‘They’re taking away their dead and they aren’t moving back in. I can see a large gathering away to the left. My guess it’ll either be a big push or a withdrawal.’

‘Get him away now,’ said Auum. ‘Keep your Senserii safe and return to the fight. We need you but not him. I never want to lay eyes on him again.’

Gilderon bowed and held his ikari horizontally across his body. ‘Die old, not today.’

The gates were opened and the Senserii ran out with Takaar trotting in their midst, still chattering and gesticulating to himself. Auum climbed slowly up to the gatehouse and stood by Ulysan.

‘This is a disaster,’ he said. ‘What are we doing here?’

‘Trying to survive.’

‘This whole journey was a mistake, Ulysan. I can feel it deep within me. I don’t think any of us will be going home.’

‘You don’t believe that. Get Takaar out of your system. Remember he’s insane; don’t let him get to you.’

‘Is he really mad? Or just a manipulative bastard cursed with power he is all too happy to use to further his ends.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. We’ve wounds to dress and our dead to grieve for. Turn your back. Forget about him.’

‘I’m incapable of doing at least one of those things.’

Ystormun howled in the mind of his host body, driving the shaman to his knees.

‘You will not retreat. You will never retreat! How dare you speak your fear? Victory is close if only you have the wit to grasp it.’

‘My lord,’ managed the shaman, his hands pushed into the ground to keep himself from sprawling face down in the mud. The tribal lords and their elder shamen were gathered about him, fearing to touch him in case they should suffer similar pain. ‘You cannot combat their speed. We touched so few and they killed so many of us.’

‘Where were your guards? Did they stand or did they run?’

‘You can only run from what you can see.’

‘Idiot!’ Ystormun fired pain into his host’s mind. ‘I will speak with them.’

Ystormun flowed across the shaman’s mind and dragged the body to its feet. He stalked around the eight gathered before him, seeing them shrink from his gaze. He stopped before a tribal lord whose name he had to recall from the mind of his host.

‘Gorsu, explain your failure.’

‘Not one of my warriors turned and fled. Run down by cavalry, burned by spells and cut to ribbons by elves moving at evil speed, they stood their ground and tried to defend their charges. It was not failure, it was brave defeat.’

‘Defeat is failure,’ said Ystormun. ‘And you will not fail again. Now you are aware of their speed, you know what to expect. At dawn you will concentrate your forces on the gates and you will break them. You will enter the city and hunt down every elf. I will have Auum’s head mounted in my chambers and you will bring it to me or you will die trying. Our power will not be denied. The city falls tomorrow.’

‘But-’

‘You question me?’

Gorsu held out his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Please, no. But our efforts have so far failed to break either gates or walls. Your powers are not enough to shiver stone.’

‘Then you must break them by other means. Scale the walls, shoot the mages from the ramparts. But you will not retreat. I will not suffer cowardice.’ Ystormun stared at Gorsu. ‘A lord who hates magic should be honoured to perish seeking its downfall.’

‘I am one such,’ said Gorsu.

‘Then. .?’

‘We will do as you command, Lord Ystormun.’

‘Naturally.’

Ystormun left the host body and it slumped to the ground on hands and knees, retching and shuddering. Gorsu watched it convulse a few times before concluding that Ystormun was definitely elsewhere. He landed a savage kick into the shaman’s gut, spinning him onto his back, clutching at this new pain with both hands.

‘If he was before me now. .’ said Gorsu.

‘Then you would be cringing and begging for another breath of life,’ said Jhalzan, lord of the Northern Marches.

Gorsu spun to face him. ‘And you would be on your belly like the snake you are. Care to have me put you there now?’

Jhalzan stared at Gorsu with cold eyes. He didn’t make a move towards a weapon.