James Barclay - Once walked with Gods

‘There are more Apposans here. Others that will want to get out. We came to help them.’

Takaar nodded and there was smiling among the TaiGethen.

‘You have chosen a path more vital than you know. And your Apposan axes will be the difference between life and death for hundreds, maybe thousands.’ Takaar paused and breathed deeply. ‘There will be fire and there will be panic. I will explain, but we must use these to our advantage. Grafyrre, we need to split to reach all the most vulnerable threads at once.’

Grafyrre’s nod was curt and his eyes held the passion of the wronged. He turned to the elves and began to talk. Garan knelt beside the body of the elf and turned her burned, wrecked face to the rain. He rubbed at his stubble and sucked in his bottom lip.

‘We got one then,’ said Keller, landing behind him and dismissing the spell at his back.

‘No,’ said Garan. ‘We barely even nicked one of them. This one they brought with them. It’s got Ystormun’s sick signature all over it. She must have been important.’

Garan stood and turned back. Soldiers were filling the space around him.

‘No one touches this elf,’ he said. ‘No one moves her; no one pisses on her body; no one takes anything from her. Do I make myself clear? Good. Pass the word. I will be checking back.’

‘What’s that all about?’ asked Keller.

‘Just a hunch,’ said Garan. ‘Tell you later.’

Keller shrugged. ‘Whatever you say. Do you think they can do it? What Ystormun says they want to do?’

‘I think that if the TaiGethen really put their minds to it, they could do pretty much anything they want. Their problem is there aren’t enough of them.’

Garan turned to head to Shorth. The blackened walls and the smoking ruins of temples surrounding them saddened him. The elves had destroyed enough of it themselves. They hardly needed the help of men.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Keller. ‘Action’s this way.’

Garan didn’t bother turning to look at Keller. ‘I don’t think so. I’m a soldier. I’m not a murderer of unarmed civilians. I will have no part in the massacre. Why would I want to watch the helpless be slaughtered?’

‘It didn’t seem to worry you in the Park of Tual.’

‘They were agitators, problems to be dealt with. What we have left now are those desiring only peace. Why would I want them dead?’

‘Because they’re only elves and this is the moment when we assure victory and compliance.’

Now Garan turned and he was surprised at the contempt that he felt for Keller. Mixed with pity that his sight was so short.

‘I thought more of you. But you’re just a lackey to the mage lords. You know what should be worrying you is where this power of his comes from and why it’s so different from yours. One day you’ll need to be sure you’re standing on the right side of the conflict.’

‘What conflict?’

Garan chuckled. ‘Don’t take the piss. You’re not that naive. You know the tension in Triverne. You know there’s a struggle coming. The six are on one side. Every other mage in the circle is on the other. Has it really never occurred to you why Ystormun wants control here so quickly? Look at the resources. Look at the power they represent. One day, and it may not be for a hundred years, Balaian will fight Balaian for this place.’

‘And what will you do in the meantime?’ Keller’s face dripped his scepticism. ‘Keep your head down or resign your commission?’

‘I doubt Ystormun accepts resignations with any grace, do you? No, Keller, I expect when I detail my men to shovel the ashes of the innocents away from the carcasses of their homes, I’ll be thinking of heading into the forest and taking my chances with the TaiGethen. What about you?’

The earth rumbled underfoot. Flames spat hundreds of feet into the sky. There was a concerted groan and a thundering crash of timbers. Detonations echoed away into the clearing sky.

‘It begins,’ said Keller.

‘It certainly does.’

The TaiGethen need no shield behind which to cower, only the blessing of Yniss. The TaiGethen ran. Apposans were with each of the three groups Grafyrre had detailed to seek and release, if they could, Gyalan, Ixii and Cefan prisoners. They did not know how they could achieve what Takaar desired but they did know they had to try. It was what the TaiGethen existed to do.

Auum ran with the cells closing on the museum. Pelyn had made a promise to Methian that she would try and help the Gyalans. And that was despite what had happened to a young Al-Arynaar at their hands just a few days before. This was not the time, Grafyrre had said, to be bothered by thread animosity. Elf could kill elf later, that was their right. It was not the right of humans.

They headed for the lights that bordered the quarter of the city where the Gyalans had made their homes for centuries. They were weavers, potters, artisans of all types. Famed for the verve of their creations and the flair of their construction. And now within moments of being dealt a potentially fatal blow. They were not an overtly fertile thread. They could not afford to lose such numbers from their stock.

Auum and Marack flanked a pale and shaking Takaar. Every pace brought a grunt of exertion. Every breath was pained and deliberate. He was not going to be of great use in a fight. Through the dark streets of Old Millers they came. Pelyn ran with them. Grafyrre and Merrat too. Thrynn and Corsaar guarded the Apposans. Ulysan brought up the rear. They were forty-five in all. Auum expected them all to die.

‘Remember it’ll be chaos,’ managed Takaar. ‘Use it. These soldiers need order. Take it from them.’

The museum of Hausolis itself was the centrepiece of the quarter. Houses bordered it on all sides of a square that saw celebrations every year on the anniversary of the closing of the gateway. Other days, markets and itinerant performers used the space as their own. Other streets ran away to Old Millers, down to Mural and Glade and towards the spice market.

They rounded a corner into a street lined with torches. Swordsmen were patrolling and there were mages in groups along its length. The street let out into the museum square at the other end. Here it was houses and shops on both sides. A place where normal people lived. Every house was barred shut. Every shutter was closed and secured from the outside.

Grafyrre made a hand signal. Cells of TaiGethen climbed walls either side of the street. He and Merrat ran on. Auum and Marack moved ahead of Takaar. Belatedly, the guards saw them, pointed and shouted for help while backing away towards their comrades.

Mages turned. Heads were bowed.

‘Apposans to every house!’ called Merrat. ‘Get them away towards Olbeck. Shove them, push them. Anything.’

Auum ran to the rhythmic sound of doors being smashed by axes. To the sound of screams and urgent shouts. To anger and fear.

‘Target the mages,’ ordered Grafyrre.

Two mages lifted their heads and spread their hands.

‘Doorways.’

Merrat’s shout triggered the street to clear. TaiGethen and Apposan sheltered in doorways, crashed through timbers into houses and dived into shutters, shattering wood. Countless thousands of shards of ice flew along the street. A fine mesh to flay flesh from bones, to strip away life in an instant.

Apposans pushed fleeing Gyalan civilians to the ground. Sacrificed their own bodies to save those they had released. The hail of ice came on a howling wind that cracked timber and widened the cracks in stone and tile. Auum heard the whisper of feet above him.

Abruptly, the castings were exhausted. TaiGethen ran back out on to the streets, leaving terrified Gyalans behind them – clutching each other, waiting for the Apposans to see them to safety. Auum checked Takaar and glanced outside. TaiGethen dropped from the rooftops. Mages died.