James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘I don’t. But he was never shy of telling us how great he was.’

Takaar stared at her, his expression bleak. ‘And you should have listened. Maybe then he would be alive, and I could speak with him and we could do the great things together.’

‘I don’t-’

Takaar stood and marched across the room to the fireplace, which needed more fuel before the embers cooled. He rubbed his hands across his face, but when he turned back the fury she feared was not evident and instead there was a broad smile on his face.

‘He may not be dead!’

Kerela blinked. Everyone had seen the manse. No one could have survived the conflagration. Takaar rushed back across the room, and for a moment Kerela thought he was going to drag her into an embrace but he stopped short. His eyes were alive with possibilities and his hands were shaking as he gesticulated.

‘Think! He has hidden the spell in a chamber placed in another dimension. Why would he not hide there himself when his enemies closed around him? He could open doors to other places. Who knows where he is now, laughing at your pathetic attempts to find his secrets. Ha! And until humans find another mage who understands the magics of all four colleges as he does, they’ll never even open the door!’

Kerela felt exhausted all over again by Takaar’s sudden energy, but she could not deny his excitement was contagious and what he was saying had a certain logic to it. But there was a major flaw in his hopes.

‘There is no such person,’ she said. ‘There never will be. Not unless Septern left instructions somewhere, to act as a key.’

Takaar snorted. ‘Why would he do that? He has taken such care to remove himself from those he thinks unworthy of his secrets, why would he leave a key on a hook for anyone to find?’

‘It wouldn’t be a key in that sense,’ said Kerela.

Takaar rolled his eyes. ‘I know. You don’t understand. It is a challenge, and only the mage who can solve the problem is worthy of his secrets. And it will be an elf who does it because we have the time that humans do not.’

Takaar wandered back into the centre of the room, muttering to his other self. Kerela shouldn’t have been so confident in his words but there seemed no doubt he was right. Truth be told, he almost always was. Kerela rose from the bed and moved slowly towards him, desiring to hear what he was saying.

‘. . could do it. Why not me? Is the study of human magic so different? I am an immortal and dare I say it, a genius. . You don’t agree? Well, that comes as no surprise, but I must start now. Here in the library. It’s a new challenge.’

Kerela reached out a hand but snatched it back when he snapped his head round in her direction. His eyes looked straight through her. He sagged visibly and half fell into a chair, tears on his cheeks.

‘There is always another task to perform and it must be me, mustn’t it. .? You’re right — only I can do this — but more than that, only then will I have the time, the peace to do my work here.’

Takaar stared up at Kerela and there was such sadness in his face that she almost burst into tears herself.

‘The great risk is that I will not come back and then both his and my secrets will be lost for ever. The choice I make is the hero’s choice.’

It was a moment before Kerela realised he was addressing her directly.

‘I’m sorry, Takaar, I’m not following you.’

‘Dawnthief must wait. The Wytch Lords must be defeated.’ He sighed, and his head dropped to his chest. His fingers fidgeted with the ties on his jacket. ‘Where is Auum?’

The change of subject threw Kerela for a moment. She sat in a chair opposite him and poured two goblets of wine from the jug on the table between them. She took hers and drained it in one. Takaar did not raise his head.

‘Auum went to join the fight at Understone Pass. He took the Il-Aryn and some of our mages with him. They were ambushed by Xeteskians and have fled into the mountains. Auum knows the Wytch Lords and Xetesk are in alliance and he is seeking out tribal Wesman lords in order to turn them against the Wytch Lords. It’s a desperate gambit if you ask me, but he’s right that if their alliance holds, they’ll sweep us away.’

Takaar was nodding.

‘He hates magic that much he seeks to befriend others who share his view.’ Takaar raised his head and his eyes sparkled. ‘But he’s underestimating the hold the Wytch Lords have on the shamen. He never spoke to Garan, you see. So he doesn’t know what creatures like Ystormun are capable of deep in their shrivelled souls.’

‘His plan could work,’ said Kerela.

‘But not in the way he expects. I must find him.’

‘I can help you there,’ said Kerela. ‘I am in contact with Stein.’

Takaar shook his head, and his eyes lost their sparkle as his mind closed around him once more.

‘No. I know a way and I will bring all the help I need. Tell him I will find him. Tell him he must hold on. He cannot do this without us.’

‘Us?’

Rith gathered her Il-Aryn in a tight huddle. Auum could see their distress. It was difficult for some of them to stand and every one of them shivered so hard it was unpleasant to watch. But he was no better. His teeth knocked together, his hands thrust inside his jacket would not be able to grip a sword, and he only knew his feet were still there because he stamped them hard on the ground while his strength ebbed away, stolen by the cold.

When the huddle was done, most of the Il-Aryn moved away and sat once more, their bodies twined together. Eight remained standing. Rith blew out her cheeks and looked at Auum.

‘Here we go,’ she said. ‘Pray for us.’

Auum nodded. ‘Yniss will hear you and Ix will grant you energy. You will succeed because you are who you are. I believe in you.’

Auum felt his pulse in his throat and he stilled to watch the Il-Aryn. Every eye was on them and prayers were being spoken. Whatever it was they were doing, everyone knew it represented their last chance. They were standing in a circle facing each other, their arms about each other’s waists or shoulders, keeping them tight, keeping them a degree warmer. The preparations seemed to go on for ever. The snow swept under the overhang and the wind howled around the wall, accelerating the drop in temperature.

The sudden quiet took a heartbeat to register. The last snowflakes settled gently, no longer driven by the gale, which was muted, venting its fury against the barrier the Il-Aryn had built. The relief was extraordinary. Auum watched the faces of the elves begin to soften, luxuriating in the calm within. Stein, his mouth gaping comically, pushed his hands against the barrier, which glowed and pulsed a pale blue.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘This is not a mana construct.’

Rith was smiling. ‘It’s just air, but we have made it solid. It’s like the barrier against the Wytch Lords, except it need only deflect natural elements so we have stopped the movement of the air and expelled the moisture within it.’

‘I can work with this,’ said Stein. ‘My mages can warm this shell. This makes it worth investing heat in the stone beneath us. And we should bring loose rocks to pile up wherever we have the space and warm them too. How long can you keep this up?’

‘I have fifty adepts,’ said Rith. ‘If you can warm us, let us conserve our energy, eat and sleep, we can rotate. Then we can keep this up for ever.’

‘But if you’ll allow me, you need to make a small adjustment,’ said Stein. Rith bridled but said nothing. ‘We need ventilation or we will suffocate, and we need to dry out too. Without any vents all that moisture will hang in the air. And you will need someone on hand to create an opening for those who need to go out for. . you know.’