James Barclay - Once walked with Gods

‘Speak. Speak now. Llyron cannot hurt you. I can.’

‘Hithuur,’ warned Llyron.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Trying to save your own skin. Too late for that.’

Llyron rose to her feet but Takaar was in front of her and shoved her back down. There was another impact on the door. Heavier this time. The chairs moved. Marack pushed them back hard.

‘There is a very powerful man in charge. A mage lord. He’s sectioning the city. Dividing the threads.’

‘Huh,’ said Auum. ‘You should be delighted. That’s just what you wanted, wasn’t it? The old order restored.’

‘Ystormun, the mage lord, he isn’t sectioning the city to bring back the old order. He’s doing it because he’s going to exterminate the threads he feels can’t benefit him.’

Auum swayed back from Hithuur and looked at Marack to be sure he’d heard right. Hithuur had made flesh a fear that burned in every elf. To lose a thread is to lose a god.

‘Apposans and Orrans he assumes will be useful. Ixii, Gyalans, Ynissul. Not so. And not just here,’ said Hithuur. ‘Across Calaius. Every city, every settlement. We… we saved the archives. He has everything he needs.’

Door, chairs and Marack were flung aside as if tossed by the hand of Yniss himself. Marack fetched up against the wall under the windows. The chairs broke against stone and beam. Auum was on his feet, his swords out. Hithuur lay where he was and let out a feeble whine. His crotch grew dark.

A man strode into the room. It could only be Ystormun. Tall. Gaunt like a corpse on whom the flesh has weathered like leather. His head was shaved. Eyes sunken into dark-rimmed sockets. They were a stunning emerald green and brim-full of malevolence. He wore plain clothes. Grey and cream shirt and trousers. On his feet were light-brown boots. Beside him was a human with a bow. And just behind him was Helias. The final traitor.

Ystormun surveyed them all briefly. He reached out a hand. Black lines, like lightning, sprang from it and speared into Hithuur’s body. The priest jerked and his tongue jutted from jaws that clamped down on it. Blood poured from his mouth. His clothing began to smoulder and his eyes flashed flame briefly before a shriek was dragged from his mouth and he lay still.

Ystormun moved further into the room, sniffing the air. He spared Sildaan and Llyron the briefest acknowledgement before focusing on Takaar, who had gripped the sides of his head and sunk to his knees when Hithuur had suffered his fate. Auum looked at Marack. She was moving but still down. Helias had positioned himself behind the archer, whose bow was trained on Auum.

‘In my city, we call this an awakening. Painful is it not?’ Ystormun’s voice was barely more than a whisper yet it contained such force that Takaar raised his head to see. ‘Often fatal if mishandled. Curious that one of you should be so blessed.’

Ystormun reached out a hand and placed it on Takaar’s brow. Takaar’s face relaxed, his pain faded on the instant. He breathed deeply. Ystormun withdrew his hand and wiped it on his trousers. His gaze moved and came to rest on Auum.

‘TaiGethen,’ he said. ‘Impressive. Worthy of study. Perhaps one day I will create a force to rival you.’

The sheer strength of Ystormun’s gaze forced Auum back a pace but he steadied and refused to blink.

‘We will never serve you.’

‘That will not be necessary,’ said Ystormun. Auum tensed to strike but the mage lord merely laughed. ‘Save it. If the archer does not hit you, I cannot fail. Savour what is left of your life. Put up your blades.’

Auum did so, though he didn’t know why.

In the moments before the chaos unfolded, Helias sensed something. He had to have done because he was already moving when the archer’s arrow thudded into the ceiling and his body hit the floor. Ystormun was turning and moving towards Katyett and her cell. Marack had scrabbled to her feet. Takaar was shouting. Auum could see it and couldn’t stop it.

‘No, Katyett, no,’ shrieked Takaar.

Katyett did not or would not hear him. She slid hard and fast across the polished timbers, her feet striking Ystormun’s ankles and upending him in a heap on the floor. Merrat and Grafyrre turned to defend the doorway from approaching soldiers. Katyett leapt on Ystormun, wrapping him in a crushing bear hug.

‘Got him,’ she said. ‘Got him.’

‘Kill him!’ cried Takaar, dragging a sword from his scabbard and running forward.

‘No. They told me downstairs. He’s the one we want. We need him alive. Help me.’

Ystormun didn’t struggle. He merely reached a hand up to Katyett’s face and unleashed his black lightning. Katyett screamed as her face charred and split. Takaar howled and fell back, his hands about his head once more. Auum ran towards Katyett where she thrashed, her hold broken and her body smoking. Her hair caught fire.

Marack threw her arms about Auum and bore him back.

‘No. You can’t help her. You can’t.’

Merrat and Grafyrre had spun from the enemy at the door. They surged towards Ystormun but his free hand spat lightning at them, drawing dark tears in their faces and hands.

‘Get away!’ screamed Marack. ‘Get away!’

Katyett was dead. Her body ruined and smouldering. Ystormun stood, his fingertips connecting his hands and the black light spitting and hissing within the cradle. Merrat and Grafyrre made to move in again.

‘Too late,’ said Ystormun. ‘Much too late.’

Blackened hands reached out on the end of arms from which flesh had been melted back to the bone. They grasped at Ystormun’s ankles. Pulled. Tripped him. Ystormun fell, the lightning in his hands vanishing and a scream more bestial than human escaping his lips. Hithuur turned an eyeless face full of the desire for death on Auum.

‘Run,’ he croaked. ‘Run.’

Ystormun was already climbing back to his feet. Already muttering under his breath. Auum saw Hithuur shake his head as the Tai thought to attack the mage lord. Something in the gesture chilled him so deeply he shuddered. Marack was shouting for them to run. Grafyrre and Merrat were staring at Ystormun. Takaar moved.

He slid across the floor and scooped up Katyett’s body. He was up in the same movement and heading for the door. The corridor ahead was crowded with men. Takaar stopped and turned. Ystormun was smiling. Sildaan and Llyron were mute, cowering behind chairs. Grafyrre and Merrat were moving to guard Takaar. But there was nowhere to go.

‘Nails!’ screamed Marack. ‘Now!’

There was the merest hesitation. Ystormun opened his hands. The doorway filled with swordsmen. Auum ran. He barrelled into Takaar as he stood, screaming Katyett’s name, and bore them both straight through the window, Marack and Katyett’s Tai right behind him. Takaar came back to himself as the window shattered across his back and he pushed away from Auum. He saw black lightning lick out of the shattered window and chase down the walls, cracking paintwork and splintering wood. He was spinning in the air. His next view was of the ground, rushing up fast. No time to get his feet under him.

Takaar struck the ground on the tumble. He let go Katyett’s body. His shoulder took the first impact and he tucked his head in, rolling around his upper back. His momentum took him on. He came briefly to his feet, twisted, and on the next fall got his arms out over his head, turned a forward roll and came to a stop on his haunches.

He stared back at Shorth. Katyett’s misguided actions had saved him. Saved all five of them. Pain rocked him. It surged through his body and in his heart. Ystormun’s words had confirmed what he had already begun to suspect. Faces appeared at the windows. Auum pulled him to his feet.

Light filled the piazza and there was the sound of multiple detonations. Castings were striking the lawns and temples. Takaar moved to Katyett’s body and scooped it up again. He stared down at her face. It was burned, barely recognisable. He moved away a strand of hair. It powdered in his hand. He began to weep.