‘My Lord Bynaar?’
‘You know something, Pirys?’ he said to the young student who stood before him. ‘I’m wondering if I misjudged him.’
‘He tried to kill you,’ said Pirys.
‘He tried equally hard not to. And for that I should be glad.’
‘We’re not going in, I take it.’
Bynaar barked a short laugh.
‘On the contrary. My reputation in the Circle Seven is at stake and Takaar is about to clear the pass for us. It would be rude not to take advantage of that.’
Pirys stared at the black hole of the pass entrance. He licked his lips nervously.
‘Then may I have your orders, my lord?’
Bynaar ticked them off on his fingers.
‘Get me some fresh clothes, get me a horse and get this column ready to move. We’ve got a Wytch Lord to catch.’
Chapter 33
But I feel the energies of magic so keenly in my soul. Surely it is a test of my faith. I will not fail.
As soon as they were around the first long bend and out of sight of the Xeteskians, Takaar had been freed to run with them. Gilderon was shaking. The moments between Takaar’s perceived slights and the seemingly inevitable retribution were becoming shorter and shorter. Where it had been days in the festering while his damned other self got to work on the increasingly small rational part of his mind, now. . Well, this latest outburst spoke eloquently enough to his state of mind.
The only mercy was that Takaar had retained enough to inflict that cruellest of deaths on the horse not the man. Gilderon wondered if they had chosen to rededicate themselves to Takaar prematurely, though the next moment he was certain their decision had been right. After all, who else was capable of seeing Takaar to his target? The question now was whether he chose to do as he planned or do something utterly beyond reason.
Helodian had sprinted on ahead to a spot illuminated by the dim light of lanterns. The smell of woodsmoke filtered along the pass, which was about fifteen feet high and wide enough for a carriage and horses flanked by riders. It was an astonishing feat of construction.
Takaar ran beside Gilderon. His face was clear and calm and he was focused on the path ahead as if what he had just said and done was no more than a dim nightmare from centuries past. Gilderon had been with Takaar for so many hundreds of years and thought he’d seen all there was, but for the first time Takaar actually scared him, and he was forced to consider what he would do if the once-great elf lost the last vestiges of his control.
Helodian came trotting back.
‘Significant presence four hundred yards ahead. Once this gentle left turn has straightened, we’ll have eyes on them. They’ll see us for the last thirty yards or so in their lantern light.’
‘How many?’ asked Gilderon, slowing them all down.
‘Twenty that I can see backed by eight or nine of their shamen. They’ve built a barricade that may well be hiding many more. Our advantage is that the pass is tight and we can fill it and wear them down.’
‘No,’ said Takaar. ‘Your advantage is that you have me. You have battles to come; I shall deal with them.’
Gilderon stopped them as soon as he could see the lanterns and the warriors leaning on spears or resting against the walls or the wood of their eight-foot-tall barricade. The shamen were in a group around a fire, talking and gesticulating. As he watched, an opening in the barricade was unbolted and he caught a glimpse of a great deal more Wesmen behind it.
‘We can deal with this, Takaar,’ he said. ‘Our role is to protect you.’
‘The shamen will kill you before you get within ten yards. Don’t question me.’
That last was said as if from another mouth. Gilderon was about to protest further but Takaar was clearly wrestling with himself and his expression was of ill-controlled impulse.
‘Show them mercy,’ was all he could manage.
Takaar moved off along the dark passage towards the Wesman lantern light. Gilderon pitied them, hearing one side of Takaar’s conversation.
‘Fire can only be drawn from the fuel already there. It is not enough. . You are showing your ignorance as always. To use the air is terribly draining. . Now you’re thinking. The raw material surrounds us and we have only to prod in the right place.’
Unconsciously the Senserii had drawn back from Takaar and had moved together, unsettled by the energies he was beginning to marshal. Inside the tight confines of the pass Ix’s power felt multiplied, and it roared through their bodies on its way to do whatever Takaar required.
Takaar was walking forward steadily, his head twitching from side to side as if seeking something minute, his hands trembling and his fingers jerking, closing and opening while he teased at his target. Fifty yards from the barricade and deep in shadow he stopped.
‘It will be loud,’ he said. ‘Cover your ears.’
Takaar moved off quickly, his hands outstretched in front of his face, palms away from him. Gilderon led the Senserii forward at a run. Ahead, the Wesmen began to make out dim shapes in the gloom beyond the light of their lanterns and fire. Warriors plucked weapons from where they rested and the shamen were ready to cast should they prove to be enemies.
The first effect of Takaar’s spell was a series of dull cracks from up ahead. Takaar’s fingers wiggled in what would have been comic fashion in other circumstances but to Gilderon, it only made what came next all the more terrifying. The shamen moved to cast. Warriors lined up to give them cover.
They should all have been running.
Takaar, not breaking stride, drew his arms back, jabbed them forward hard and closed his fists. The roof above the Wesmen collapsed, smashing their bodies into the ground and extinguishing the fire and lanterns. The noise ripped into Gilderon’s head despite the hands clamped over his ears and he roared a curse as much at the sight as the sound.
Down and down came the rock, splintering the barricade. Through the clouds of dust and debris thrown up into the pass Gilderon saw Wesmen turning to run. It was impossible to hear their screams but they must have been loud until shut off by the torrent of mountain battering their bodies, bursting their skulls and crushing their limbs from their twitching corpses.
Takaar walked on, repeating his gestures. More boulders came thundering down. Smears of black appeared briefly on the walls before being eclipsed by the dust, which billowed down the pass towards the Senserii. Gilderon held his breath and turned away while the force of it rolled over him impelled by a gust of Ix-inspired wind, buffeting his body and tearing at his clothes.
He could barely see Takaar a few feet ahead of him. The mad elf circled his hands and pushed, adding more power to the wind, which now blew away from them, whipping up the dust into spirals and driving it away from the scene of his atrocity so all could view what he had wrought.
Immediately the air was clear, Takaar set off again, his hands cocked, ready to cause another rockfall. Gilderon stared for a heartbeat at the awful devastation and ran in front of him, turning and grabbing his arms.
‘Enough!’ he shouted. ‘Enough! Look what you’ve done! Yniss spare us from the wrath of Shorth, look what you’ve done.’
Takaar’s gaze, lost in the energies he manipulated, darted around Gilderon before settling on his face. He tried to move his arms but Gilderon held on tight, this time heedless of the risk he might be running.
‘Enough,’ he repeated. ‘You’ve killed them. You’ve killed them all.’
Takaar’s body relaxed, and the weight of energies dissipated, leaving a quiet broken by the rumbling of echoes. Gilderon looked to his Senserii.
‘Go among them. If any live, speed their passing and pray for their souls.’ His voice cracked and he stared back at Takaar. ‘No one should die like that.’