Takaar indicated to Auum to be ready and set off towards the pool. It was an idyllic sight. The water splashing down, the deer, long elegant neck extended so it could drink its fill. Its ears twitched continually, hunting for any sound of a predator. Takaar, though, was silent. He moved to the edge of the small clearing. The soft brown and red markings on the deer’s flanks rippled as it breathed and swallowed.
Takaar edged slightly to his left. He felt the ground beneath him give slightly and he rocked back. He moved his foot and replaced it. Firm and noiseless. He glanced at Auum. He had not moved. The javelin was still held tip down in his right hand. Takaar wondered if he had understood the plan.
Oh, another disappointment looms.
Takaar did not respond. Something about Auum and the set of his body, the penetrating gaze, suggested competence and confidence in equal measure. So be it. Takaar circled round a little more. The deer raised its head. Its small bob tail flicked a warning. It had sensed but not heard.
Takaar could take it right here. His throw would be unimpeded. Jao deer roasting over a fire would taste sweet. But this was a lesson, was it not? And he had outlined the deer’s movement on the run at some length earlier in the night. Theory over. Practice separated a good ear from a good aim.
Takaar stepped from cover and clapped his hands sharply. The deer looked down the length of its back, startled. It set off. Its first bound high to escape the jaws of a panther. It hit the ground and darted left. Past a single tree it switched right, its agility improbable if described rather than seen. It ran low. Another high bound. Another change of direction.
Auum had cocked and thrown his javelin in the smoothest movement Takaar had ever seen. He did not throw with too much force, keeping his shape compact and holding his follow-through for a heartbeat. The javelin’s flight was flat and fast, the slightly uneven shaft wobbling. The deer switched direction again, twisting its body back on itself and planting its feet to spring.
The javelin struck it at the base of the neck, burrowing deep to pierce its heart. The animal sprawled to the ground, still and dead. Auum moved swiftly from cover to crouch by the deer. Takaar remained where he was. He felt a lightness in his heart that he had not experienced in a long time and never on Calaius.
Auum removed the javelin and propped it against a tree. He picked up the deer and slung it across his shoulders. He retrieved the javelin and looked over at Takaar.
‘Hungry?’ he said and could not keep the smile from his face.
Takaar glanced over his shoulder.
‘Disappointment? Wrong again and another victory for me.’
But it won’t end here, will it? Has he come here to treat with you or to kill you?
‘You’re hoping I’ll let down my guard.’
Since you are too craven to kill yourself, I’m left with little else. Think you can beat him if he comes at you?
‘I am Takaar.’
You were.
‘I’m sorry?’
Auum was walking towards him. Takaar flapped a hand.
‘It is nothing. A private conversation. Well done. A clean kill. You’ve hunted the jao before?’
‘Never like this. Thank you.’
Takaar wobbled on his feet. Something was coming. Through the ground and through the air. It grabbed his brain and squeezed. It clutched his gut and twisted. It lay on his chest and grew heavy. Takaar blinked. Dawn was here. Why was it so dark? Pelyn was on her feet before Helias had hit the ground. She lashed a kick into the side of his face and another into his kidney before the mob engulfed her. She was borne backwards, rough hands and arms about her waist, chest, neck and head. She was hurled to the ground and rolled in the mud. She bounced quickly to her feet. She was surrounded. Weapons were held out. The mob began to close, trampling her cloak. A couple of ulas helped Helias to his feet. He spat blood from his mouth and advanced on her. This time, though, he had armed help.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, trying to catch the eye of any she could. ‘Helias will deliver you all to the Ynissul. He is with them. Men are coming. Landing at the harbour. Please.’
How much they heard was impossible to know. The howls of abuse reached a new crescendo as soon as she opened her mouth. Two spears were levelled at her, their points clean and sharp. One was to her gut, the other to her neck. She backed away and felt hands on her back. Elves gripped her arms and held her at a gesture from Helias. He waved for quiet.
‘I’m disappointed,’ he said. ‘Desperate lies from a mouth so beautiful atop a body so perfect.’
Helias wiped at his mouth and nose. Pelyn was suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness but made no attempt to jerk her hands free to cover herself. Instead, she stood taller, prouder.
‘Come and take a closer look,’ she said.
‘I’ll have as much time for that as I need,’ said Helias. ‘So will every other ula with a mind to do so.’
There was cheering in the mob. Pelyn spat on the ground at Helias’s feet.
‘And every iad will be delighted their leader is a common rapist.’
Helias walked forward and crashed his fist into her nose. Pelyn felt bone crack and a wave of pain shudder through her head. Blood began to flow. The cut she had sustained yesterday reopened too, stinging her face.
‘Oh dear,’ said Helias. ‘I appear to have spoiled the view.’
‘Llyron was right,’ said Pelyn, the salt taste of blood in her mouth. ‘Elves are no more than animals.’
She found her strength renewed. Her death seemed inevitable. The brutalisation of her body equally so. But there was a chink. She could try to exploit it. Force it wide. Her last retort, though, she knew that to be an error the moment she uttered it.
‘Oh!’ Helias stepped back and spread his arms wide, turning in a circle to encompass the hundreds who stood around them. Ula and iad, the enraged and the anxious. ‘Hear that from our former protector? We are all animals. Let us disperse back to our hides and holes and think on the error of our ways.’
The rhythmic cheering and chanting, growing in volume, reminded Pelyn of a distorted version of the chamber of the Gardaryn. Helias was its bastard Speaker and, surrounding him, government and public were one.
‘We are mistaken, all of us! Berate yourselves. You aren’t here to ensure the security of the Tualis. You aren’t here to make sure there is food and water for your families. You aren’t here to fight for a better tomorrow for your thread. I have misled you all. You are nothing more than a pack of dogs. O Arch of the Al-Arynaar, thank you for taking the veil from our eyes.’
The laughter from the mob was hard, aggressive. Faces took on manic looks. Pelyn felt her heart skip.
‘You are better than this,’ she shouted into the gale of noise. ‘Remember who you are. This is none of us. Please. Face the real enemy. It isn’t me. It isn’t me!’
Helias turned on Pelyn again. He stalked up and grabbed her chin, forcing her head back. He pressed himself against her, and those behind her made sure she couldn’t push away. His body reeked of lust and was puffed with his power. Pelyn tried to turn her face away but his grip was strong. His fingers and thumb dug into her cheeks. Blood dripped down onto his hand.
‘You are no enemy; you are nothing more than a common murderer. A cascarg, efra. And you are wasting our time. There is a fight going on here which your meddling will not distract us from any longer. You fail to understand what is truly happening. Why the threads ripped apart so quickly. The old order must not be reestablished. We must battle for the ground we want, as must every thread.’
‘I understand that you are about to betray all of these people to the Ynissul.’
But her words were thick and muffled by his grip on her chin.