The Gyalan way. Or it had been. As they approached, Methian walked ahead. He strode up to the two guards.
‘Welcome, brother,’ said one. ‘Though I can’t extend the same greeting to your others.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Methian. ‘A true ceremonial klosil. Proud of it, are you?’
The guard smiled up at Jakyn’s body.
‘Pity you weren’t here. He squirmed and screamed. Called for his god. Not loud enough, eh? I put that one across his forehead. A second smile, right?’
‘Mind if I add my own?’ asked Methian.
Pelyn tensed. The guard grinned.
‘Always room for more.’
Methian drew the Apposan blade on his left hip with his right hand. In the same movement, he carved it up through the guard’s body, the tip tearing through his shirt, slicing up through his chest and thudding up to split his lower jaw and tear his throat apart.
The guard stared at Methian for one stunned moment before clutching at his neck and falling back to writhe until death. Methian had his blade at the other guard’s neck before he could bring his makeshift spear to the ready.
‘Gyal wreaks revenge on such as you. Shorth hears her and your soul is already promised purgatory. This elf. This fine young Cefan ula that you murdered in agony, was a friend of mine. Cut him down. Gently and with respect and reverence. And if you drop him, I’ll drop you.’
Chapter 25
There is beauty in a kill worked by the hands of the TaiGethen warrior. ‘Enough fire,’ said Sildaan, coming to Garan’s shoulder.
The man looked round at her, a smile on his face. The attack on Ysundeneth had advanced incredibly fast. Not a blow had been struck by steel. Elves ran in fear of the magic of men. Over five hundred mercenary soldiers and mages had disembarked. They were well organised, powerful and ruthless.
They were advancing on three fronts, spreading in a wide arc across the north of the city and tracking south. Some of the mages were flying – in defiance of all Sildaan knew or could readily accept – and they provided a simply massive advantage. Able to overfly every thread base, every pocket of potential resistance and direct mage fire with stunning accuracy.
‘They need to know we can’t be stopped. We want them to run before us, don’t we?’
‘I want them subdued not panicked. And I want enough of the city left standing to reallocate. Call off the mage attack. Round up prisoners. We need this quarter sealed then move on to the Gardaryn. When we take that, we all but have the city in our grasp.’
‘Whatever you say, boss.’
Garan raised his eyebrows, a measure of dissent Sildaan just about tolerated. The man shouted orders in the ugly speech of the north. Mages started falling back behind the line of mercenary blades. A unit of a hundred, led by a bilious lieutenant with a massive scar right down the centre of his face, ran on ahead of the main force. Mages flew above them.
Sildaan shook her head. ‘And what did you order them to do?’
‘Exactly what you asked. We’ll force those seeking shelter ahead left, back onto the dockside and into one of the least damaged warehouses. I’m sending archers and swordsmen ahead to do house to house up in the… What do you call it? Never mind, anyway up the Path of Yniss a way. And we have our right flank moving in on your friend’s group. We just need his confirmation.’
‘Helias is not my friend.’
‘Tell him that. That’s him, isn’t it?’
A small group of elves had walked into the Path of Yniss, the wide and winding tree-lined avenue that crossed the city north to south, broken by buildings and monuments in places but nevertheless the spine of Ysundeneth. Helias led them, five in all.
‘Let them approach,’ called Sildaan. Garan repeated the order in his own language. ‘Helias. You’ve brought guests.’
Helias spread his arms. ‘A little personal security, my priest. The streets are dangerous.’
‘But getting less so by the moment. Who are these?’
‘Advisers, guards.’
‘Fine, and not necessary now.’ She waved a hand at Garan. ‘Move them somewhere, would you?’
‘Helias, I must protest,’ said one, a haughty iad with a long knife pushed through her belt. ‘This Ynissul cannot-’
‘I think you’ll find I can do anything I want, Tuali.’
The iad snatched her knife out. Garan stepped up and cracked a fist into her chin, knocking her cold.
‘The rest of you be quiet,’ he said. ‘Where do you want them?’
‘Do I look like I care overmuch? You’re in charge of holding pens.’
Garan signalled and six of his warriors came over. A few more words and they moved to Helias’s people.
‘You won’t be hurt,’ said Helias. ‘It’s for your own safety.’
They were led away muttering curses at him and Sildaan.
‘You know that might not actually be a lie,’ said Sildaan.
‘What should I do?’ asked Helias.
‘Your people are in the agreed location?’ she asked.
‘Naturally.’
‘And Llyron’s athletic little gift?’
Helias smiled, a thoroughly unpleasant event for any iad to witness. ‘She awaits my pleasure. Just tell your muscle to leave the houses around the park undamaged.’
‘Good, then you can go where you please. Go back and do what you want to her or, if I were you, I’d save that for another day and get to Shorth. Llyron will keep you safe enough.’
Helias blustered. ‘I’m not walking alone that sort of distance.’
‘Then walk with us. Just keep out of my way; I have work to do.’
‘Don’t treat me as some sort of lower-thread minion.’
‘How else would you have an Ynissul priest treat a Tuali?’ returned Sildaan. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get your rewards and your position. Until then, I’d…’ Sildaan touched a finger to her lips.
‘You need me,’ Helias said. ‘Don’t forget that.’
‘You are as inevitable and irritating as blisters in new boots. Run along.’
Helias shot her a glance that Garan noted with raised eyebrows before shouldering his way through the mercenaries on his way to the gods knew where and cared even less.
‘Someone else to keep your eye on,’ Garan said.
‘He is nothing. Alone, he has no strength to fight. No courage. Let’s move on. I want to set one particularly large fire before the rains come back.’ Pelyn watched the men flying in the sky on what looked like wings made of nothing but smoke and shadow. She’d seen them dive and climb. They could fly at some speed too. Very agile and yet totally corrupt by all the laws of every elven god. And they presented a huge problem.
They’d returned to the house at the side of the Park of Tual. Hundreds of Tualis were gathered in the park. They stood in groups, talking, sharpening weapons and waiting, she presumed, for Helias. They were going to get something quite different, and Pelyn wanted to be there to witness it. Tulan had planned an escape route and he and Ephran were waiting downstairs.
Pelyn turned to Methian. The old Gyalan’s face still held the anger from Jakyn and the museum arch.
‘You did exactly the right thing,’ she said.
He looked up, his eyes boring into her face. ‘It isn’t that. Those two Gyalan animals deserved to die like the dogs they were. I just wish we’d fired the museum. None of them deserve life. Not after what they did.’
‘I understand, but you can’t afford to think that way. Eventually, there will have to be forgiveness. Yniss save me, I’m probably going to have to forgive Helias. That ula is elusive as a taipan and has more life than an Ynissul, I swear it.’
Once the Gyalan guard had laid poor Jakyn on the ground, Pelyn had seen something she never thought to see. Methian lost control of himself. Pelyn had half expected him to slap the guard on the rump with the flat of his blade, tell him to take a warning back to the others. But he had punched the guard in the stomach as he straightened, slammed the pommel of his sword into the Gyalan’s neck to knock him down, kicked him over onto his back and buried his blade in his chest.
Only then had he broken down in tears. Tulan and Ephran had moved Jakyn’s body into shade and Tulan had laid his cloak across the boy’s ruined body. They planned to collect him later and take him into the rainforest. The temple of Shorth was out of bounds.