James Barclay - Once walked with Gods

‘And the priests at Aryndeneth? We should try and warn them.’

Sildaan shrugged. ‘They’re smart. They’ll blame me and say they are tending those who I have abandoned. Or they should. I can’t help those who won’t help themselves.’

‘Where’s Leeth?’

‘Leeth took another path,’ said Sildaan, not looking round at him. She began to walk from the Ultan back towards the bridge and the city. ‘Come on. The fleet will be in the harbour in two hours. Plenty of Al-Arynaar to round up before then.’

Hithuur didn’t move for a moment. He stared after Sildaan. She’d changed. Hardened. Was it really as Llyron said? That elves could never be other than the roots of their race dictated? Sildaan was playing the part all right. Cruel-eyed, chill of soul. Ten years before she had been so honoured to be accepted into the Aryndeneth priesthood and had talked only of spreading the harmony, of forging unbreakable links between the threads.

That was before she had been seconded to Llyron at the temple of Shorth in the forest. That was where it had begun for her. And she’d never lived on Hausolis. Never known the horror of war. She craved it. Hithuur was sick of it. Llyron had given him a path when he was at his most desperate in the days when it became clear his family were gone, lost behind the collapsed gateway. Hithuur believed in the lessons Llyron preached. But not in her method of achieving their aims. What he had led Jarinn into had sickened him. He didn’t think he would ever sleep clear of nightmares again. He didn’t deserve to.

Sildaan hadn’t noticed he’d yet to move. He sighed and trudged after her. The leader of the men, Garan, the ugly big man with sores on his face and blood hate in his eyes, trotted past him and laid a hand on Sildaan’s shoulder. She jerked herself free and snapped round to face him, pushing him away.

‘Did I not tell you never to touch me, blink-life?’

Garan spread his hands wide. ‘Hey. Relax. We’re working together, right? I just want to check you’re doing the right thing.’

‘You’re doubting me again?’

Garan’s face took on a resigned look. Hithuur watched the exchange with growing interest.

‘Without Leeth, who else can be your conscience?’

There was fire in Garan’s eyes suddenly. Sildaan hissed through clenched teeth and spared Hithuur a brief glance, unhappy he was obviously listening. She walked away, beckoning Garan to follow. Hithuur smiled. His hearing was particularly acute. It was dry currently and there was little other noise barring the ever-present din from the forest. Nothing to distract him.

‘Never mention him. Never use his name to get under my skin like the fly larvae under yours. Remember who pays you. Who keeps you alive.’

‘I keep myself alive, Sildaan. That is my job. And I never forget who pays me. That is my livelihood. And you pay me to advise you as well as use my sword. So I want to know why you are letting a significant number of our worst enemy and three thousand Ynissul just wander off into the forest without a care. Out there they are going to have their minds set unshakeably against what you are doing. You say you aren’t numerous.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘That has to represent a significant percentage of the total Ynissul alive today, doesn’t it?’

Sildaan pushed her hand through her hair and shook her head slowly. Hithuur watched Garan bridle as she tutted.

‘Well, that is why you can’t advise me on anything other than how to kill with blade and magic, isn’t it? You just don’t understand the elven mind at all, do you? And certainly not the Ynissul mind.’

‘That surprises you, does it?’

‘Not at all.’

‘So enlighten me. Help me see the light of your wondrous plan.’

Garan stared down at Sildaan, his aggression barely suppressed. Hithuur wondered for a moment who would win in a single combat. Sildaan was fast and slick with a blade. All the priests were though few chose to carry a weapon. And she had good open-hand skills. Better than Hithuur’s certainly. But she was no TaiGethen. She didn’t demonstrate the poise, agility or sheer speed of reaction.

Garan on the other hand was simply raw power. He’d find Sildaan surprisingly strong, but Hithuur could imagine that long sword in both of his hands and wondered if any elf could really deflect a well-aimed blow. It would be fascinating to find out. Hithuur wasn’t at all sure he knew who he would want to win.

Sildaan pointed into the rainforest and then began walking again, Garan a pace to her left and eyeing her from beneath a heavy frown.

‘Out there are three thousand and more ordinary Ynissul. Most of them have lived in the city ever since they arrived here or were born here. And those that lived in the forest have come to live here for a reason. These are not TaiGethen material. They are pampered iads and ulas who understand a roof over their heads, a mattress on which to lie and a hot meal whenever they choose to eat it, having brought all their lovely fresh food from the market.

‘Imagine them now. They’ve been brutalised by other threads in the city. Beaten, raped. And they are the ones not murdered in the temple. Now they’re being forced to run into the rainforest. There’s danger in every branch and beneath every step. There’s only leaves to shelter them when it rains, and for most a ground covered with crawling and biting insects and reptiles when they sleep, if sleep they can.

‘They won’t get enough to eat. Thirty TaiGethen cannot feed three thousand. They won’t be able to drink until a pure stream is crossed. They left with nothing. A few clothes. The odd book. They are so underprepared it makes you look like a fifty-year veteran of the canopy.

‘And, when they get to their sanctuaries, they’ll find a few huts, an open fire and a whole lot of elves who don’t want to be forced to look after them. They’ll be fed roots, berries and monkeys. Given creaking hammocks. What a life, eh?

‘So when I go to offer them the hand of friendship… One of their own, come to bring them back home, having cleared their city and ensured that none of those who hurt them will do anything more than grovel and serve them from here on in, who do you think they will follow? The TaiGethen, who will despise them for their weakness and lack of faith? Or me and Llyron and Hithuur? Elves who understand them and their true desires. Elves who can offer them a better life than the one they were forced to flee?

‘The mathematics are not complex, are they, Garan?’

Hithuur had watched Garan’s face unknot slowly and an expression bordering on admiration replace his earlier belligerence.

‘And meanwhile, those Ynissul who might oppose you are out of the way and the TaiGethen are kept very busy indeed.’

‘Now you’re getting it,’ said Sildaan, and she allowed herself a small smile. ‘I told you I knew the elven mind, but I have to admit even I did not think it would all work as perfectly as it has so far. Pelyn serving herself up has been an unexpected bonus.’

‘And what will this mighty warrior decide, do you think?’ asked Garan.

Sildaan’s hackles rose immediately. ‘She could kill you very easily, Garan. Don’t mistake her frame for weakness. Takaar didn’t choose her to lead the Al-Arynaar for nothing.’

‘I meant no offence.’

‘But in answer to your question, I think it might be fun to drop in on Shorth on our way to the harbour and find out, don’t you? What would you do?’

‘Take my chances with Llyron, I think.’

‘I thought so. I suspect Pelyn will not be so craven. Want to make a wager?’

‘With one who knows the elven mind so well? I think not.’ ‘You know, I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or not,’ said Llyron. ‘I commend your beliefs and your courage. And I will of course pray for your souls, which will undoubtedly find mercy and warmth in the arms of Shorth. I just think it’s all a bit of a waste.’