James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘Here. You didn’t eat enough. Admirable but stupid. If you die all hope will be lost.’

‘You don’t feel pressure, do you, Auum?’ said Ulysan.

Auum thought to refuse, but his stomach saw sense and he began to scoop the warm stew into his mouth, having trouble holding the spoon in his unresponsive fingers.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘the quality of Ulysan’s jokes has reached a point where all hope is already lost.’

‘I wonder what they’re doing,’ said Ulysan.

‘Saving all our lives, I trust,’ said Auum.

‘Is it that bad?’ asked Ulysan.

‘I know how I feel and I know how much I can take. It’s night, and the temperature is falling like a stone down that chasm. If we cannot get warm, we’re all going to die right here.’ Auum stabbed a finger at Stein. ‘And if that happens, don’t you dare let anyone who can escape die too or I’ll haunt you from Shorth’s embrace.’

‘To leave you would be to betray you.’

Auum gave Ulysan his empty bowl and pulled Stein into an embrace which the human found uncomfortable but which Auum would not let him break. Eventually, he released him, kissing his forehead.

Ulysan raised his eyebrows. ‘Some honour,’ he said.

‘If all humans were like you, our races would have been friends for a thousand years. What a waste.’ Auum stepped away and looked back to Rith. ‘Now then, how are they getting on? I wonder. Even though I’m freezing and I consider you my brother, Stein, I won’t embrace you again. Your clothes absolutely stink.’

Kerela was scared and she was tired but she knew there would be precious little sleep for her. Sipharec was dying and his passing would make her high mage, a position for which she suddenly felt herself entirely inadequate. She knew she would have the support of Harild and that meant a great deal, but her first task, should Sipharec pass during the night, would be to preside over a war with Xetesk and the Wytch Lords.

She shuddered as she entered her rooms. The great balcony doors had been left open and the curtains were blowing in the chill night air. It was somehow fitting, the cold matching her mood. Sipharec. . who would have thought it?

Not a cancer, which is what he had assumed, but a failure of his heart and liver. As if they’d had enough and were shutting down. There was nothing magic could do but ease the pain. The poor man was so angry and bitter he would not see his job through that he had not left his rooms since he had fallen ill just a few days ago.

Kerela’s mind was tumbling with anxiety so much that she failed to notice the figure sitting on the end of her bed until she had closed the doors and turned back into the room. She stifled a cry and placed a hand on her thudding heart, relaxing when she saw who it was.

‘Most people make an appointment,’ she said. ‘How did you get in here? You’re exiled.’

‘No ward or wall can keep me from where I must be,’ said Takaar. ‘And I must be here.’

He was filthy from the trail, his hair unkempt and with dirt staining his clothes and face. He had a hollow look in his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days and a pinch to his cheeks told of a lack of food. But those eyes were alive with his madness barely in check, and Kerela was acutely aware of how dangerous he could be.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked.

He smiled, and his voice dropped to a whisper so quiet she had to lean in to hear him.

‘I have been to the Septern Manse.’

The smile on his face was childlike. Kerela gasped and sat down on the bed next to him.

‘What did you see? Tell me, were our team there?’

Takaar shook his head and Kerela sagged, though she had known in her heart that they’d been killed. Friends of hers, people beloved by the college, had been in that party — peaceful people, talented people.

‘Only Xeteskians were there. And fighters with masks, strong and quick but dark of soul.’

‘Protectors,’ breathed Kerela. ‘They sent Protectors. We never stood a chance.’

‘There is no one there now.’ Takaar smiled but there was no glory in his tone when he spoke his next words. ‘Because I am a better mage than they and the Senserii are better fighters.’

Kerela knew she shouldn’t but she hugged Takaar. He tensed and she let him go at once but couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

‘I shouldn’t feel good that they are dead but I can’t help it,’ she said.

Takaar shrugged. ‘They killed your people and you are an elf. Never be ashamed of your heritage.’

‘Harild will be delighted. He’s sent a force down there to take the Manse and make it ours.’

Takaar hadn’t appeared to be listening but he frowned. ‘Why?’

‘So that when this is done, Julatsa can own Dawnthief.’

Takaar was distracted, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them as wide as he could and staring around the room.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ said Takaar. ‘You should call them back. No one will ever secure Dawnthief.’

‘That’s some statement,’ said Kerela, suppressing a laugh. ‘How do you know?’

Takaar stared at her as if she was stupid.

‘Because I am a better mage.’

‘You’re going to have to offer more than that if I’m to change our agreed defence tactics.’

‘I know what you told me,’ said Takaar after a pause. He looked to his right. ‘She’ll understand. Eventually, they all understand.’

Kerela felt a frisson of nerves. This was the first time she’d seen him engage with his other self, and it was deeply unsettling. She waited, not knowing what else to do and being reluctant to interrupt. She became acutely aware of her vulnerability. No one knew he was here and she was alone with him, the elf who had turned Drech’s head to ash.

‘Don’t press me!’ Takaar snapped. Kerela jumped and moved a little further away along the edge of the bed. Takaar turned a terribly fragile smile on her. ‘I’m sorry, I startled you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, her heart thundering in her chest.

‘See what you’ve done,’ hissed Takaar.

Kerela took in a long trembling breath. ‘I don’t think-’

Takaar’s hand shot out and took hers. His grip was gentle though his fingers and palms were rough with dirt and scratches.

‘You must hear this,’ said Takaar. ‘Before I. . Anyway you must hear this. Dawnthief isn’t at Septern Manse. It isn’t anywhere in the Balaian dimension.’

‘Dimension?’ Kerela knew the history of the elves and Takaar’s discovery on Hausolis, but the theory had always confused her and she had left its study to others in the college. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course,’ said Takaar dismissively. ‘I can sense the place where it must be held, where the secrets are kept. I can even draw the doorway in the mud of the manse ruins, but I cannot open it.’

‘How can you be sure that no one can just because you can’t?’

It was a dangerous question, and Kerela regretted it the moment she asked, but Takaar merely favoured her with a patronising smile. He patted her hand and withdrew his to itch at his right forearm, which was already red and scraped from his scratching.

‘It is closed against all those without his talents. I can read the energies even though I can’t unpick them to work the lock. He understood all four of your magics, didn’t he?’

‘That’s what he always claimed. His was a boundless ego.’

‘A boundless talent,’ said Takaar. ‘Don’t belittle what he knew.’

Kerela felt Takaar tense and she swallowed hard, feeling herself begin to shiver.