James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

Auum dared a glance around his Tais. All they awaited was his word.

‘Were you threatened?’ asked Auum. ‘Did an elf actually threaten your life?’

Lysael stared at Auum, her lips pressed together against a sob. Then she nodded.

Uproar exploded among the TaiGethen. All of them were on their feet yelling for justice and revenge. Only Auum remained seated. He held out his hands and the TaiGethen fell silent.

‘Keep your anger for man,’ he said. ‘Direct your fire at those who would rape our forest and see us exterminated. Trust me. No criminal will escape justice. A particular state of pain and torment awaits those who dared look into the eyes of our beloved Lysael and thought to end her life.

‘Now return to the feast. Do not dishonour our ceremony. Rest well. Tomorrow, we move.’

Jeral watched Hynd while the mage communed with Ystormun. Hynd was pale and shaking. Sweat covered his brow and his lips were ragged and bleeding where his teeth tore at them. His eyes moved erratically behind closed lids, and when he appeared close to losing his balance, Jeral reached out a hand to steady him where he sat cross-legged near the river’s edge.

Dusk was approaching. It was the time of day Jeral feared most. Before the campfires, torches and lanterns lent a facade of security to the perimeter, and well after the time that any of them could see into the eaves of the forest to any degree.

Jeral itched at the deep scratches the ClawBound elf had given him around his throat and lower jaw. They would scar. Jeral was certain that had been the intent. He shuddered every time the memory of that face appeared in his mind, so very close to his. He could still feel the elf’s breath on his face, smelling of blood. He could still hear the words too, and he did fear them.

Dusk was the ClawBound’s time, and the only question he had no answer to was why they hadn’t attacked the army after so many days. They were so vulnerable in the forest despite the wards the mages laid every night. Almost four thousand men were strung out over miles of logged river bank. Organised into soldier and mage units, each was connected to the units on either side, and each was responsible for the safety of all three and also for a team of Sharps, who were tethered before being ignored for the night.

Guards stood at the perimeter with shielded lanterns throwing light as far into the forest as possible. More guards patrolled the entire length of the camp. Groups of mages were positioned between the camp and the perimeter, acting as quick-response teams. It all sounded great, but Jeral knew that should an attack come they would still pay dearly for every elf they killed.

Jeral glanced out over the river at the barges floating at anchor in midstream.

‘Lucky bastards.’

Hynd sighed. Jeral looked back at him, once again glad that he wasn’t one of Ystormun’s mages. Hynd’s body sagged and he blew out his cheeks. His eyes opened and he squinted at Jeral, who had squatted right in front of him, holding his shoulders.

‘Are you…?’ Jeral began.

Hynd’s face was grey and sick-looking even in the half-light.

‘Oh God,’ he mumbled.

Hynd turned his head and vomited. The puke poured across Jeral’s arm and spattered on the ground, and the acrid reek brought tears to Jeral’s eyes.

‘Fantastic.’

‘Sorry,’ said Hynd, spitting out the remnants.

‘Here.’ Jeral passed him his water skin. ‘Don’t dribble your sick into it either. I don’t want to taste your vomit next time I’m thirsty.’

‘Thanks.’ Hynd took a long swallow, flushed his mouth and spat once more. ‘Bloody hell, he’s a bastard.’

‘Oh, you’ve noticed, have you? Well done.’

Jeral walked to the river’s edge and washed his arm. He sniffed the sleeve of his light leather coat and wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t the kind of odour that was going to fade in a hurry.

‘No. I mean, yes,’ said Hynd. ‘I mean, I’ve got to report to the generals.’

The army commanders were spread throughout the column. They’d spent one night in their ridiculous tent and by morning some wags had painted a target on it in mud. Others had marked the path to the doors with arrows. It had been an effective piece of vandalism.

‘Loreb is a few units downstream. I think Pindock and Killith are up near the head. Take your pick: the drunk, the coward or the total fuckwit.’

Hynd shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘I don’t think our boys need to hear that, Captain Jeral.’

‘Anyone who decides to march the bulk of the army through this continent-sized mantrap deserves nothing but my scorn and the scorn of us all. Just ask your boss.’

‘You had a better idea, did you?’

Jeral gave a short laugh. ‘Yeah. Build. More. Barges.’

‘But think of the time that would take,’ said Hynd.

‘Think of the people who won’t be dead if we did,’ said Jeral. ‘Think of the final condition of those who actually make it to this mythical place, wherever the hell it is.’

‘Ystormun wants to send a message to the Sharps. Marching through their land is the best way to do it.’

‘No. Ystormun wants to wipe them out. There’s no point making a statement if the goal is to leave no one alive to take it on board. Waiting fifty days and using those massive stockpiles of timber to build troop transports would send a much better message. One that reads: we’re coming to slaughter the fucking lot of you and there’s nothing you can do about it. The way we’re going about it now, the message is: help yourself to rich human pickings because this column is totally indefensible.’

Hynd flapped his hands dismissively and stood up.

‘We are where we are,’ he said. ‘And I have a message to take to the people who are actually in charge.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Jeral. ‘What did he say anyway?’

Hynd smiled. ‘Well, among all the things I can tell you, there is one you’ll really enjoy. He said we aren’t making enough progress. We have to march faster and longer each day.’

Jeral felt his mouth hang open. ‘You have absolutely got to be joking.’

‘I never joke, Captain; you know that.’

Out in the forest, downstream somewhere, a man screamed. The sound carried clear above the hubbub of the camp. Alarm wards were triggered, sending sheets of light out into the forest. A heartbeat of silence along the column was broken by a concerted move to make ready for action. Weapons were drawn, mages began to prepare.

Jeral shot to his feet and ran down the river bank with Hynd right behind him.

‘Stand your ground!’ he yelled. ‘Stand!’

Jeral flew down the lines. The wards were going off in an arc about a hundred yards downstream and fifty yards into the forest, right in the middle of his section of the line.

‘Stay out of the forest. Remember your training.’

Jeral cursed under his breath and scratched at his face. He could feel his fear growing and the memories taunting him. Light flickered through the trees and sound wards blared out their flat tones, setting sleeping birds to flight and driving animals deeper into burrows or higher into the trees.

Jeral wished the wards were quieter. He wanted to know if they were up against TaiGethen or ClawBound. He ducked into the forest as a spell was cast ahead of him. A cold wave surged away into the trees, ice rattling against wood with a sound like breaking glass.

He could hear orders being barked. Someone was still screaming. And finally he heard the roar of a panther. Jeral’s legs wobbled and he stumbled. His stomach churned, his face felt hot and his hand sweated on his sword hilt. He could see lanterns and guard fires just ahead, shot through with the shadows of men and ClawBound.