James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

‘To fail would be to shatter Elyss’ dreams for our freedom, and I will not suffer that.’

‘But first we will all accompany you and Elyss to the Hallows,’ said Faleen. ‘We are one TaiGethen.’

Auum shook his head. ‘She was my light and my love. She is my burden alone as is our child sleeping within her.’

The sound of an addict crying for help echoed in the distance. The roar of furnaces and the glow of flames further broke the night. Yet the silence among the TaiGethen was abiding and, in it, Auum found his strength. He moved to Elyss and knelt by her, nodding his thanks to those who had cleaned her, and laid her arms across her stomach. He smiled; her hands were supporting their baby. So it would be as she travelled into Shorth’s embrace.

Auum put one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees and picked her up. Elyss’ head fell back and her hair brushed the back of his hand. About him, the TaiGethen had knelt in prayer, each with one hand to the ground and the other open to the sky. It was a prayer of deliverance.

Auum turned a slow circle, showing Elyss to her brothers and sisters. Her family.

‘You will never be alone,’ he said.

He walked through the city and out into the forest.

Without faith the outstretched hand seeks only to grasp at succour, never to offer it.

Auum, Arch of the TaiGethen

An hour after dawn, the whole city knew what had happened in the marketplace. Pelyn had awoken with her guts aching and her head screaming for edulis. Her bed sheets had been soaked with sweat and the stink of urine told that her bladder had failed her again as she slept.

She’d sat upright with the first light of dawn washing into her room on a wave of fresh, cool and damp air. Tulan had been there, standing by the window. He’d said nothing, just poured water into her washing bowl, indicated her clothes and her cloak and withdrawn.

Now she walked at the head of the Al-Arynaar, such as they were. They numbered thirty-seven including her. She felt sick and weak. Her leather armour and cloak were heavy, especially for her weakened body, and the sword in the scabbard at her waist had felt alien in her hand. She was not fit to be with them, let alone to lead them.

The Al-Arynaar were moving swiftly towards the Beethan ghetto. The eyes of many frightened Katurans watched them go. Away from the industry and energy palpable in the rings of the city there remained the taint of suspicion and, for Pelyn herself, a good deal of deserved contempt.

She instructed her people to offer no reaction to the taunts she would inevitably attract. With her head held high, Pelyn marched into the tight streets of the Beethan warren. The TaiGethen had reported little movement here in the small hours of the night and there was no doubt that fear of reprisals from the elven elite kept most behind their shuttered windows.

‘Tuali whore!’

The shutter slammed before Pelyn could turn to look. Other shouts followed.

‘Nectar hag!’

‘Does the day hurt your eyes, slack face?’

‘Keep marching,’ said Pelyn. ‘Let’s face it. It’s what I am.’

‘What you were,’ corrected Tulan.

‘That is yet to be proved.’ Pelyn took a deep breath. ‘The craving will not die.’

Indeed it was particularly intense right now. She knew why. Edulis was manufactured here. So much nectar just within her grasp, so much of it stored behind the closed doors they walked past. She could smell it on the air, and the tip of her tongue burned with the remembered taste of it. Saliva flooded her mouth, her head beat painfully and her hands began to shake. Yet she kept walking.

The Al-Arynaar moved into the centre of the ghetto. Pelyn’s vision had tunnelled and she was aware that she was beginning to gasp. Ephram cleared his throat.

‘Orders, my Arch,’ he whispered.

‘Thank you,’ said Pelyn. She called the halt. ‘Put up the signs. Knock on each door. Force is sanctioned if there is any resistance. Archers to the rooftops. I want a clear path. No surprises. Not like last night.’

Pelyn had been taken aback by the TaiGethen’s restraint. Though Auum had killed eight Beethans, including Jysune, no Tai had lifted a finger in further reprisal. In fact, Ulysan had been very particular when he ordered that clearing the ghettos should be carried out within the current laws of Katura. Pelyn had realised, belatedly, why it was being done this way. She signalled Tulan to make the proclamation. His was by far the loudest voice.

‘By order of Pelyn, Governor of Katura, all those in breach of Article Thirteen of the laws relating to manufacture and supply of narcotics are to be removed from their homes. All possessions and land held by such parties are forfeit and to be returned to the people of Katura. All those in breach of Article Thirteen are forthwith exiled from the city and bounds of Katura. Any who return to the city will receive the death penalty.

‘Let this order stand. Let it be carried out this day and all those in breach of it be taken beyond the city limits before nightfall. Any remaining within the city after the sunset must assume their lives forfeit. Any person harbouring those in breach must consider themselves in breach also, and so suffer the same penalties. That is all.’

There were a few cheers and a smattering of applause. Pelyn smiled briefly.

‘Al-Arynaar!’ she called. ‘To work!’

The dwellings of all those accused had copies of the proclamation pinned to their front doors. Those doors not opened at the first knock were beaten down. Six Al-Arynaar worked to clear each house in sequence while the rest remained in support on the street.

There was little trouble. The archers who had escaped Auum’s attack had taken the story of his speed and ferocity back to their people and none wished to suffer the same fate as their erstwhile leader. The occasional scuffle was quickly snuffed out with cudgels and the threat of blades.

It quickly became clear that many had already fled, most likely as dawn broke and the TaiGethen returned to the hall of the Al- Arynaar. Those who remained were herded into the centre of the ghetto, where they endured the abuse of those they had so recently controlled.

Pelyn let it happen. She looked at the faces of the gang. They were downcast, beaten now that Jysune had made her fatal mistake and left them pariahs, hated the most by the one group of elves they least wanted to antagonise. There was an old saying about the fate of any marked by the TaiGethen. Pelyn circled the humiliated gang, happy to remind them of it.

‘ Sithiate, nun hannok thol, TaiGethen.’ The marked shall die, never hearing the TaiGethen come.

Ephram came to her when a hundred and seventy-eight Beethans stood within the ring of Al-Arynaar, all of them waiting for an excuse to exact revenge for Elyss’ murder.

‘That’s the lot of them,’ he said. ‘And it gets better. There’s so much metal here. Stills, stoves, pipework…’

‘Good, although I’m afraid it will never be enough,’ she said. ‘Get them to the gates. With any luck you’ll drive them onto the swords of the very humans they deny are coming. Perhaps they can take the odd one with them. Then send someone to get the collectors up here. We’ll take a break, regroup, then hit the Tualis.’

‘Think they’ll still be waiting for us?’

‘One or two will be. It’s hard to leave all your power behind.’

‘And how are you holding up?’

Pelyn rocked her hand from side to side. ‘Up and down, you know. I could do with a rest and my head is killing me, but I’ll survive. I owe it to Auum. I owe it to all of you. I’ve no idea why any of you are still standing by me.’

Tulan shrugged. ‘Well I can’t speak for the others, but as for Ephram and me, you know why, you must do. You gave us a second chance. We’ll never forget that.’