James Barclay - Once walked with Gods

‘Pelyn, look at me.’ There was a slight turn of the head, nothing more. ‘Pelyn, please.’

Pelyn turned. There were tears on her young face, smearing the dust and dirt that had filled the air of the chamber when the riot began. There was power within her, great charisma too. Yet in this moment she was the frail iad in whom Takaar had seen such potential when he was building the Al-Arynaar to back the Tai-Gethen’s elite skills. Pelyn stared at Katyett with all the old pain in her face.

Katyett’s heart fell.

‘He cannot have known what he was saying,’ she said.

‘He knew exactly what he was saying.’

‘No, I mean, he knew the word he used, sure, but not what… happened to you on Hausolis. No one, almost no one, knows about that.’

Pelyn covered her face with her hands and drew them down to the point of her jaw.

‘Plenty know and enough of them escaped through the gate. You think I’m being naive but you’re as bad. Takaar’s denouncement didn’t just happen today. It’s been happening for a decade. And if you think there aren’t those in Ysundeneth capable of using every bit of information about those… those closest to him, against them, then you need to understand a little more about the nature of the embittered elven mind.’

‘But what Takaar did, he did for you. You know that, don’t you?’

Pelyn’s fury returned and she advanced on Katyett.

‘What I know is that he rejected me three times. In the prime of my fertility he looked in another direction. Rendered me worthless. Unworthy of carrying his child. And even back then, before the Garonin came, people called me efra.

‘And I know that despite what he did to me, despite the humiliation, I still loved him. I still love him today.’

Katyett sighed. ‘He never stopped loving you, either.’

‘Really?’ Pelyn’s tone was bitter-edged. ‘He believed in my ability on the battlefield but that is hardly the same thing.’

‘It was exactly the same thing to Takaar. He saw greatness in you and he brought it to the fore. Showed everyone what you could do.’

‘Out of guilt, I expect.’

‘Don’t be so stupid, Pelyn. You think he rejected you because he didn’t care? Wouldn’t have been proud to father a child with you; a Tuali-Ynissul union? He did it because he could see a better destiny.’

‘What could be better than being the mother of Takaar’s child!’ Pelyn cried. ‘Do you think I’m stupid, Katyett? Do you really? I know why he rejected me. It had nothing to do with my skills as a general. Having a baby wouldn’t change that, would it? It’s because he had eyes elsewhere. Didn’t he? Didn’t he!’

Pelyn’s hand came round, open-palmed. Katyett caught her wrist and held it like she held Pelyn’s gaze.

‘Yes, he did. And you know what happened? Nothing. I bore him nothing. My love for him was as desperate as yours. Yniss knows it still is and ever will be. But I could not give him what he wanted. All that time I was away from the TaiGethen, when people suspected I was pregnant, I was hiding my shame, trying every method, herbal and mystic, to make myself more fertile. And I failed. I failed, Pelyn, and he and I both know he should have chosen you.’

Pelyn had relaxed completely and Katyett let go her wrist. Pelyn rubbed it and then took Katyett’s hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I had no idea.’

‘I wish I was termed efra,’ said Katyett, believing it too. ‘At least that way I could hold my head up and say I might have been the mother.’

‘You don’t wish that. Trust me.’

Both iads smiled. They embraced.

‘Takaar has no heir,’ said Katyett, breaking away but not letting go.

Pelyn bit her lip. ‘And you. Will you enter fertility again?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Katyett. ‘But I have to live through all this first. And find Takaar and persuade him he needs a child. Yniss preserve us, he’s probably dead.’

‘Despite all that he has caused, to have no child would be terrible,’ said Pelyn.

‘There are precious few out there who would agree with you. How old are you?’

‘Three hundred and seven,’ said Pelyn.

‘Still fertile?’

Pelyn shrugged. ‘Yes, but my prime has passed by twenty years. And I only get one season, long though it feels sometimes.’

Katyett nodded. ‘We really could do without this war, if it comes to it.’

‘I hear you. We’d be right back to the days of pressure to conceive.’

‘Funny isn’t it that Takaar effectively gave the iads choice of partner and then demonstrated how easy it is to get it wrong.’

‘Oh, Katyett, he didn’t get it wrong. Wanting you to mother his child was the least surprising decision he ever made.’

Katyett burst into tears and hugged Pelyn close.

‘Yours is the most generous of souls,’ she whispered.

‘And yours the strongest,’ said Pelyn. ‘We cannot fall back into war.’

‘Then let’s stop pining after lost love for a moment and go and sort the rabble out.’

Pelyn laughed and pulled away.

‘Thank you, Katyett,’ she said. ‘I nearly lost myself.’

‘Want to know another truth? Anyone else calls you efra and you’ll need to beat me to the killing blow.’

‘I’ll take the challenge.’

The door to the office opened.

‘Katyett. Trouble at the temple piazza,’ said Grafyrre.

Katyett sighed. ‘Looks like it might be a long old day. Come on.’ It was a heartbreaking run through the city. So much bile, stored up for so long. Katyett had been spat at by people she knew. People she might have called friend. Today, as if some delicate strand had been torn to shreds, she was Ynissul, they were anything else but. Damned because they were loyal to an ula who had failed after saving so many of their brothers and sisters.

They ran past the Lanyon Jail, its gates standing open. Nothing like a random assortment of bitter criminals to stoke the fires. They moved quickly along the Path of Yniss towards the temple piazza, which rested on higher ground bordering the rainforest to the north-east. Everywhere, elves had formed into gangs.

Katyett shook her head. Most of them were single-thread gangs only. While the Ynissul were the principal targets of the, presumably Tuali-backed, aggression at the moment, history told them the flimsy unification of other threads would not last. No group that they passed offered anything more than verbal abuse to the TaiGethen cells and the thirty Al-Arynaar. Hardly surprising.

There was a fire burning up at the piazza. Tall flames licked up and smoke billowed, black and oily. Katyett increased her pace, breaking into a sprint as she ran into the piazza and saw the crowd building there. She glanced at the sky, hoping for the rain to return, praying to Yniss to nudge the elbow of Gyal and set her tears to fall.

The temple piazza was a place of beauty and tranquillity. Or rather it used to be. A circular open space a quarter of a mile across, centred around lawns and gardens, bordered by the city temples. Structures built with the passion of faith, reflecting the best qualities of elven dedication and flamboyance. From the stunning carved helical spires of the temple of Beeth, god of Root and Branch; to the spectacular entrance and mural-covered vestibule of the temple of Cefu, god of the Canopy; and the dominating temple of Shorth carved as a prone body, the piazza was testament to elven creativity.

All of it at risk now but none more so than the relatively modest temple of Yniss. The temple was a circular structure with a low green-painted dome and a thirty-foot spire at each corner. It had timber steps leading up to brightly painted wooden doors. Upwards of two hundred elves surrounded the entrance. Many carried torches and their intentions for the temple were clear enough.