James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

‘But you said-’

Don’t be naive. I will say anything to bring about your death in the manner I desire.

‘I look forward to your hating my every breath for millennia to come.’

We both know that isn’t going to happen.

‘Your certainty fires my determination.’

‘Takaar?’

Takaar looked around, coming to himself once more. He was leaning against a rock three times his height, the product of a fall centuries past. Gilderon was before him, the rest of the Senserii in relaxed defensive positions nearby.

‘What is it?’

Gilderon pointed back towards Understone and moved aside so Takaar could see. ‘They are coming,’ he said.

Takaar smiled. Understone was emptying. Mages on horseback led a long column of mounted soldiers four abreast. Bynaar had believed him

Unless they are coming to kill you, of course.

‘Not even you believe that.’

I’ll grant you that one.

Takaar walked over to meet Bynaar, who was leading the mage strength himself.

‘You accept my word,’ said Takaar. ‘I am humbled.’

Bynaar raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing is quite that simple. The Circle Seven have sanctioned this action but only following a contact with Belphamun, who made an unconscious slip that confirms all that you claimed. Ystormun is on his way to Sky Lake and is perhaps a day’s travel from the other end of the pass.’

Takaar nodded.

He didn’t believe you. Look at all the checks he made.

‘I expected nothing else.’

‘Good,’ said Bynaar a little vaguely. ‘Just pray that your friend Auum can hold Ystormun until we arrive.’

‘He cannot,’ said Takaar. ‘That is my task, and it is yours to reach me in good time because even my strength is finite.’

‘No, no, no,’ said Bynaar. ‘You are not leaving me for one moment. That would suggest trust and I have none of that. Auum must hold him, and we will cage him when we arrive.’

Takaar felt as if a spike had been driven into his head. He stared at Bynaar through eyes that burned with his pain. He screwed them shut and tried to blot out the goading from his tormentor.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he managed through clamped jaws. His hands writhed together. ‘Only I. . My task. .’

Burn him. He does not trust you and he will betray you. Burn him and run, and they will chase you and they will see your genius and they will cage the beast and they will understand and they will forgive and you will be accepted.

‘Please,’ whispered Takaar. ‘Say you will let me go.’

Bynaar’s words came as if from a distance, and Takaar had to strain to hear them. They did not say they would let him go. Takaar felt hot across his whole body, and the energies surged within him, seeking release, seeking the unworthy.

Drech was unworthy and he had to go. Bynaar, is he more worthy? He is an enemy and he seeks to trap you. He wants the glory and you must not let him have it. The task is yours and yours alone, as Yniss is my witness. Don’t let him steal your redemption from you!

‘You will not steal my redemption!’ screamed Takaar.

Bynaar’s horse collapsed in a heap of organs and blood, its bones turned to dust and its skin bursting under the pressure from within. Bynaar was thrown clear by the blast of air from Takaar’s casting. Men nearby were yelling, their horses bucking and bolting.

Gilderon and the Senserii enveloped Takaar and moved him away in the direction of the pass. Bynaar was trying to get to his feet, knocking away the proffered hands. His face was blank with shock.

‘Only I can hold him!’ roared Takaar as he was hurried away. ‘See how I saved you? I beat him and I saved you. He wanted me to kill you and I didn’t. You can trust me now!’

‘Enough,’ said Gilderon. ‘We need to get away from here.’

Takaar laughed. ‘I can do it. See, Auum? See how I controlled my anger?’

Bynaar was on his feet. Soldiers and mages were backing away from Takaar, their eyes flicking towards the boneless remains of the horse. None wanted to suffer the same fate. The tormentor was silent, beaten for now, but he would be back. He always came back. Takaar saw the Xeteskians begin to focus on him again.

‘Helodian, Teralion, bring him,’ said Gilderon. ‘Run hard.’

Bynaar saw the Senserii sprint away. He watched their leader slice his bladed staff through the face of one soldier foolish enough to get in their way and then pivot on that same staff and crash his feet into the chest of a second. Then they were running for the pass and the Wesmen who lay within. And they were fast .

‘Let them go!’ he ordered, though none had moved to chase them. ‘Stand down.’

Bynaar wiped the blood and mess from his cloak and riding clothes. He looked at the remains of his horse and tried to imagine the casting which had done it. He failed. Just flesh and skin and innards. . The animal had no skeleton, no bones of any kind. How it had been done was beyond Bynaar entirely. He chuckled.

‘My Lord Bynaar?’

‘You know something, Pirys?’ he said to the young student who stood before him. ‘I’m wondering if I misjudged him.’

‘He tried to kill you,’ said Pirys.

‘He tried equally hard not to. And for that I should be glad.’

‘We’re not going in, I take it.’

Bynaar barked a short laugh.

‘On the contrary. My reputation in the Circle Seven is at stake and Takaar is about to clear the pass for us. It would be rude not to take advantage of that.’

Pirys stared at the black hole of the pass entrance. He licked his lips nervously.

‘Then may I have your orders, my lord?’

Bynaar ticked them off on his fingers.

‘Get me some fresh clothes, get me a horse and get this column ready to move. We’ve got a Wytch Lord to catch.’

As soon as they were around the first long bend and out of sight of the Xeteskians, Takaar had been freed to run with them. Gilderon was shaking. The moments between Takaar’s perceived slights and the seemingly inevitable retribution were becoming shorter and shorter. Where it had been days in the festering while his damned other self got to work on the increasingly small rational part of his mind, now. . Well, this latest outburst spoke eloquently enough to his state of mind.

The only mercy was that Takaar had retained enough to inflict that cruellest of deaths on the horse not the man. Gilderon wondered if they had chosen to rededicate themselves to Takaar prematurely, though the next moment he was certain their decision had been right. After all, who else was capable of seeing Takaar to his target? The question now was whether he chose to do as he planned or do something utterly beyond reason.

Helodian had sprinted on ahead to a spot illuminated by the dim light of lanterns. The smell of woodsmoke filtered along the pass, which was about fifteen feet high and wide enough for a carriage and horses flanked by riders. It was an astonishing feat of construction.

Takaar ran beside Gilderon. His face was clear and calm and he was focused on the path ahead as if what he had just said and done was no more than a dim nightmare from centuries past. Gilderon had been with Takaar for so many hundreds of years and thought he’d seen all there was, but for the first time Takaar actually scared him, and he was forced to consider what he would do if the once-great elf lost the last vestiges of his control.

Helodian came trotting back.

‘Significant presence four hundred yards ahead. Once this gentle left turn has straightened, we’ll have eyes on them. They’ll see us for the last thirty yards or so in their lantern light.’