James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

Despite the slow pace, the ox dragging a comfortable litter behind it, and the focused ministrations of the finest elven healers, Nerille’s condition had deteriorated throughout the journey to Aryndeneth. Auum did not think it had anything much to do with the journey itself, more that the increasing distance from Katura was breaking her heart.

The sadness was infectious. Auum had thought to engender a light spirit on the long days of walking and sailing, but even the normally effervescent Ulysan was muted and introspective. Auum found himself walking next to Nerille’s litter, as he had for large parts of each day, trying to treasure each moment as if that might banish the sombre mood.

‘I’m sorry to bring you all down,’ said Nerille suddenly.

Auum looked down at her and smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised you were awake.’

‘I rarely sleep. I just watch very quietly or listen with my eyes closed. And I feel a great deal, Auum, and I am sorry that I agreed to this journey. It has caused such sadness.’

‘Of all of us you have the least need to apologise. Katura has been your life. And your leaving is the passing of something into history that touches us all. Every elf living and every elf yet to be born owes you a debt of gratitude they cannot hope to repay.’

‘I won’t be around long enough for a start. That’s a lot of gratitude.’

Auum chuckled and a smile broke briefly on Nerille’s face.

‘Well, hang on until we get to Aryndeneth, at least, could you? I’d hate to think all this was a waste.’

‘I’ll remind myself to keep breathing.’

‘You know what I believe?’ said Ulysan.

‘Enlighten us,’ said Auum, glad the big TaiGethen had joined the conversation.

‘We built Katura in the Palm of Yniss. And Yniss favours those who fight to save his children. That’s what you did, Nerille, and so he blessed you with long life. Life enough to see all your efforts bear fruit, enough to see your achievements gloried. Now you’ve left the palm, those energies will be withheld until you reach Aryndeneth. There you will live for ever.’

‘Dear me, I do hope not,’ said Nerille and she reached out a hand to Ulysan. ‘But you say the most wonderful, uplifting things. Thank you.’

‘I’m right, you know,’ said Ulysan.

Deep in the forest an ululating cry grew in volume. It was taken up by others from all points of the compass. The roars of panthers rose and fell in concert with the cries of the elves. The sound shattered the ambience of the rainforest as every one of Tual’s creatures paused to listen. Auum felt a shiver pass through his body and a great weight settle on his shoulders.

It had been seven centuries since this call had echoed beneath the canopy, and it brought back memories of invasion, war and extermination. Only in the bleakest times was the ClawBound call to muster the TaiGethen sung in this way. It chilled Auum’s blood to hear it again.

‘We’re still six days from Ysundeneth,’ said Ulysan.

‘No,’ said Auum. ‘Eight. I will not fail in this, the happiest of tasks, in order to seek out the grimmest.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Auum,’ said Nerille. ‘Unless my ears have failed me, that was the call of mortal threat. You can’t delay answering it, not by a day, not even by an hour. The Al-Arynaar will see me safe to Aryndeneth.’

Auum shook his head. ‘After seven hundred years of unfailing service to the whole of elven kind, if their salvation cannot wait another two days it is already beyond us. But, if you’ll forgive me, Nerille, we will increase our pace.’

The disappointment Auum felt at their arrival in Aryndeneth would live with him for ever. All that he had planned had been ripped to shreds by the ClawBound call. There was no honour guard of TaiGethen to see them to the doors of the temple. There was no feast of welcome. There would be no ceremonial prayers to dedicate the Palm of Yniss back to Tual’s denizens.

Nerille’s arrival, marking the end of one of the more glorious chapters of elven history, passed almost unnoticed.

The grand old Gyalan elf was helped from her litter, determined to walk across the apron and into the temple to pray. Auum and Ulysan flanked her. Tulan and the Al-Arynaar walked behind them. Early evening sunlight was warming the forest after a brief deluge. Steam rose into the canopy, shafts of sunlight sparkled against the multi-coloured glass tiles in the temple roof. Aryndeneth should have been at peace.

Auum looked around him. The usual TaiGethen guards were already gone to join the muster. Inside the temple the atmosphere was subdued and anxious. Prayers were being led by senior priests, and the sounds of light and laughter that Auum associated with the temple were muted. Auum laid his hand on the shoulder of a young priest kneeling by the harmonic pool. The iad looked up, her smile brittle.

‘Auum.’ She rose to her feet and her smile broadened. ‘Nerille? We are honoured you have chosen to come and live with us. I am Tanyse. Welcome to Aryndeneth.’

‘Thank you, Tanyse,’ said Nerille. ‘Now I wonder if you could find me a place to lie down. I crave a proper bed and mattress after the hammocks Auum has made me sleep in all the way here.’

Tanyse laughed, and it was a sound that danced across the dome, lightening the atmosphere.

‘He really should have brought a bed with him,’ said Tanyse.

‘I wanted to but Ulysan refused to carry it,’ said Auum.

‘Only because the frame got caught in the lianas the whole time,’ said Ulysan.

Tanyse held out her hand. ‘If you’ll do me the honour, I’ll show you to your rooms in the village. The bed there holds the prayers of every priest in Aryndeneth.’

‘Bless you, Tanyse,’ said Nerille taking her hand. ‘I think we are going to get along.’

‘Tanyse,’ said Auum. ‘Where is Onelle?’

Tanyse nodded towards the back of the temple. ‘She’s in the chamber of light. What’s going on, Auum?’

‘I hope she might be able to tell me. Has she heard from Drech?’

‘I think so,’ said Tanyse. ‘She hasn’t spoken much since.’

‘Bless you,’ said Auum. ‘Nerille, you are in the best of hands. I’m sorry your arrival was not greeted with the ceremony you deserve.’

‘Gyal’s tears, I’m not,’ said Nerille. ‘Look in on me before you head off to save us all, will you?’

‘I would deem it a crime not to do so,’ said Auum. ‘Ulysan, check on the Al-Arynaar numbers and come back to me at evening prayer.’

Auum trotted into the lantern-lit corridor beyond the statue of Yniss and up to the door of the chamber of light. It was a large chamber, set with windows in both outside walls and in the ceiling. Mirrors further reflected the natural light that came in, bathing the small shrine and its mats and benches with a warm gentle glow.

Onelle was sitting on a bench looking out into the rainforest. When the training of mages had been moved to Herendeneth she had elected to remain here, ostensibly to welcome and orient potential adepts before their travel to the island. But the truth was she didn’t feel safe anywhere else. Some memories would never fade.

‘I’m not sure even the prayers of light can help, can they?’

Onelle turned from the window. ‘We must never turn away from faith in however small a measure. That’s your teaching, isn’t it, Auum?’

Auum inclined his head in acknowledgment.

‘You know why I’m here, don’t you?’ he asked.

Onelle nodded and stood up. She looked well, if you saw past the worry on her face. Her hair was lustrous and she carried her frame proudly. Peace at Aryndeneth had been very kind to her.

‘I had contact yesterday at dawn,’ she said. ‘Takaar has brought a human to Ysundeneth. He is warning of another invasion. It’s stirred up quite a panic in the city.’