‘You did it, Ulysan. You saved them all from falling.’
There were tears in Ulysan’s eyes, like the welling-up of memories.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘This time I could reach them.’
Auum reached down a hand. ‘But remember there are some times when you cannot.’
Ulysan took his hand and stood. Merrat pushed Auum aside and hugged the big TaiGethen.
‘You saved me, brother.’
‘Any time,’ said Ulysan.
Auum turned to Stein, who was walking slowly towards them.
‘Get us down off this mountain. I don’t think my heart can take any more.’
Chapter 30
It is a horrible feeling to know the time has come when you must rely on magic in order to survive.
‘How far to Sky Lake?’ asked Auum.
They had descended the precipice without further incident and Auum had led long and passionate prayers of thanks for their deliverance to Yniss, Gyal and Ix. It felt wonderfully warm and calm at the base of the mountains. Auum had stared up at the snow plain where they had stood so recently, wondering what madness had led him to think it had been a good plan.
Yet here they were: depleted, drained and hungry but very much back in control. They were hidden from enemy eyes by the jagged rock formations that surrounded them, and while rocks were gathered to be heated for a thin stew made from everything they had left, most of the elves were lying down wherever they could find a spot. Auum didn’t blame them one bit.
‘At your pace, less than two days. But Tilman can’t fly so we should make whatever progress we can this afternoon and expect to get there late the day after tomorrow. Some of yours might need a good rest now too.’
Auum glared at the trio of Il-Aryn who had so nearly cost Merrat his life. Overconfident, they had been messing about, sliding and braking until one of them had done it once too often. Rith had dismissed it as simple over-exuberance and the row that had ensued had set birds to flight.
‘They’ll move when I say. Apparently they have no shortage of energy to burn.’
‘They almost died,’ said Stein. ‘I know it was their fault but-’
‘So did Merrat. I will not mother them, Stein. Do you see him whining?’
Merrat was sitting with Ulysan, explaining the finer points of ice skating, or so it appeared. Ulysan was smiling again, though his eyes were still haunted. Perhaps he had something to thank those idiots for after all.
‘The TaiGethen are a different breed,’ said Stein.
‘Yes, we are cursed with honour.’
‘I. . oh.’ Stein blew out his cheeks and put a hand out to steady himself. ‘It’s-’
Auum grabbed him and helped him sit. ‘Are you all right?’
Stein nodded. ‘Communion. Wait.’
Auum watched, moving away a couple of paces, uncomfortable with the weight of magic he could feel emanating from his friend. Stein’s eyes closed but beneath his lids moved as if searching for something. His mouth moved too but no sound came. He frowned, the colour leaving his face, and he bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He swallowed and his face hardened. His body relaxed and he opened his eyes, the contact broken.
‘So?’
Stein looked up at him, taking a moment to focus his eyes and his thoughts.
‘It’s bleak news,’ he said and Auum’s heart fell. ‘The Wesmen have landed in large numbers north of Julatsa and are marching to lay siege to the city. It’s a similar picture in the south though we assume Xetesk won’t be beset — mind you, this might be the Wytch Lord’s gambit.’
‘Not yet,’ said Auum. ‘They still need Xetesk to prevent the other colleges from uniting.’
‘There’s something else, and I’m not sure if this is good news or bad. Apparently, Takaar reappeared in Julatsa. He knows our intentions and is planning on joining us.’
Auum stared up at the mountains. ‘Not if he comes that way.’
‘You really want him back?’
‘Not him but his power. Think what it will add to ours.’
‘So long as he directs it as he needs to.’
‘Put it this way: he’s always managed to save himself when the need arises,’ said Auum. He smiled and felt guilty for it. ‘He’s not going to go quietly, is he?’
‘No. But there is some good news — for you anyway. Kerela reported that Takaar was at Septern Manse. The Julatsan team are dead as we feared but Takaar and the Senserii took out the Xeteskians and the place is now empty. He says Dawnthief isn’t there and can’t be found; it’s hidden in another dimension. He says we’re all wasting our time.’
‘So why are we still fighting?’
‘Because no one in Xetesk or Parve will believe him.’
Lord Sentaya of the Paleon tribes was sparring with his youngest son when he was called. He beckoned the eight-year-old to him, knelt and embraced him.
‘You’re progressing well. Remember to keep your guard up and watch your opponent’s body as well as his eyes.’
‘I don’t have that many eyes,’ said Arayan.
Sentaya laughed.
‘But you will, and then you will be unbeatable like me.’ He took his son’s weapon with his and laid both wooden blades against the frame of his door. ‘Now go and tell your mother you’ve earned a grain cake. And take a drink.’
‘Wine?’
‘Water. . with maybe a splash of red. I’ll check so don’t say I said otherwise.’
The boy ran off and Sentaya felt a burst of pride. Blessed with three sons, all fit and healthy: two working the fields and commanding warriors and one who would be the best of them, even Sentaya himself. He stretched and looked to the sun, seeing it fading towards evening. He should be relaxing with his family; this was no time for business.
Sentaya growled and walked round the side of his house. The central oval around which the village was built was still busy with life. The smells of cooking and smoke drifted across him, setting his stomach to rumble in appreciation. There in front of his house stood a shepherd boy with his elder shaman, Gyarth.
‘You know I hate to be disturbed when I am training my son, Gyarth.’
‘My apologies, Lord Sentaya,’ said Gyarth, bowing and helping the shepherd do the same. ‘But this youth has news.’
‘Does he have a name?’
Gyarth prodded him in the back. ‘Speak.’
‘I am Tiral, my lord.’
Sentaya smiled. ‘Atalun’s boy, good. Raise your head, lad, you need not fear me.’
Tiral looked up. ‘Thank you, my lord. There are people approaching the village.’
Sentaya tensed. ‘People? How many?’
‘I counted more than a hundred. They were a way away from me so I could be wrong.’
‘Are they Wes?’
Tiral shook his head. ‘No. I thought they must be eastern men but they don’t move like them.’
‘Make yourself clear,’ said Sentaya sharply, making the boy jump.
‘They. . they have more. . um, grace. Like their feet kiss the ground rather than stamp it ugly like the easterners do. They’ll be here before nightfall.’
Sentaya didn’t understand what the boy meant but it hardly mattered. He turned to Gyarth.
‘Is the fleet in?’
‘Most are beached; some are still out.’
‘Get them in and get everyone armed. We’ll meet these. . people outside the village. Get word to my sons. Have them stand defence. Thank you, boy, you have done me great service. Now go home and stay there. Send your father to me.’
The boy ran off.
‘Are you sure he knows what he saw?’ asked Sentaya.
‘His story is unchanged though it makes no sense. Easterners who don’t walk like easterners?’ said Gyarth. ‘Shall I gather my shamen?’
‘How many are here?’
‘Three. Most are spreading the word of our impending entry into the great battle.’
Sentaya sniffed. ‘Should it ever come to pass.’