Takaar’s heart was rippling, or so it felt. The sweat was on his brow and back and the tremors had reached his arms. His vision tunnelled. They were close. So very, very close. Soon they would roll over these pitiful few and the TaiGethen would be finished for ever.
A quick elf, a lone elf, might get away. Unseen over the domes just beyond Tual. Too many would be seen and hunted down. Alone, you can make it. But only if you go now. Abandon that corpse in your arms. Do it. You must live. Someone must live to tell the tale of what happened here. You, Takaar. It has to be you.
Tantalising. The climb wouldn’t even be hard. None would live to gainsay his version of events.
Think of the tale of glory you could weave. An ula of your intelligence.
Takaar walked forward beyond the first line of defenders already preparing for battle. Eyes followed him. Mistrustful eyes. Betrayed eyes. The TaiGethen possessed long memories and little room for forgiveness. Behind them, the temple doors had opened. Soldiers crowded the steps. Ystormun would be close.
Takaar looked at his escape route. He looked up to the heavens. Gyal’s shroud was forging across the heavens. Shielding the eyes of the gods from the slaughter to come. Making the sky dark. It would rain hard enough to conceal an elf trying to escape his fate.
Takaar looked at the spires and slender towers of the temple of Tual. The places for birds and monkeys to rest. Where lizards and insects could find shelter and safety within the city.
No. Don’t even think about it.
‘I told you I got to choose,’ muttered Takaar. ‘Well I’ve chosen.’
He lifted Katyett’s body above his head.
‘Will you let your Arch, your hero, go to Shorth with her death a waste? Tens of thousands of your people lie in their beds not even knowing that they are living their last. Aye, it is so. Extermination follows from the hands of men. We cannot let that happen. We cannot bargain so we must fight. We must free our people, any that we can. Even one life saved is a blessing on the elven race and a wound in the body of men. Because we must fear magic we must nullify it. You all know what we must do.
‘We are TaiGethen. Born to serve Yniss and our people. We do not serve him by laying down our lives to send a few worthless souls to Shorth. I’ll do it on my own if I must. But I will not leave our people to die. Not this time.’
Takaar embraced Katyett to him, feeling her dead weight and the slackness in her limbs like a sword dragged slowly through his soul. He laid her inside the porch of Cefu, where the rain would not hurt her face.
‘I will not fail you again, my love. I will not.’
I cannot believe what I am hearing.
‘Then go and listen to someone else.’
Takaar ran at the human army of thousands. Thirty-seven TaiGethen came in his wake.
Chapter 40
A superiority in numbers is one thing, the element of surprise is quite another. Ystormun turned from the shattered windows. Hithuur was still breathing. Ystormun’s hand flicked out casually and a stalk of lightning buried itself in his forehead, cooking his brain. He looked over at movement to his right.
‘I see you managed to save your own skin, Helias. Good for you.’
Helias bobbed his head looking like nothing more than a child’s toy, he was so pathetically grateful. Llyron and Sildaan were unscathed too. Remarkable. Ystormun moved swiftly to Llyron and grabbed her collars with one hand, pulling her upright and off the ground in a single powerful movement. She began to choke a little.
‘What will they try to do?’ he demanded.
‘I have no idea,’ said Llyron.
Ystormun felt a thrill of anger energise his tired body. ‘High Priest of Shorth, I have been knocked down twice. It will not happen a third time. You know them. Tell me where they will try to go even though my army is pressing every corner of this ridiculous gathering of temples.’
‘You killed their Arch,’ said Sildaan, emerging from her hiding place. ‘And they will kill you for that. But not tonight. Tonight they will seek to free those Hithuur told them were about to die.’
‘They have no chance. They are pitiful in number.’
‘You do not know them. You do not know their belief and their desire. And you do not know their speed and their skill. They will not try to beat you. Not tonight. But they will hurt you. That I promise.’
Ystormun let Llyron go and the high priest collapsed to the floor, gasping in grateful breaths. He loomed over Sildaan, whom he could see still retained a little of her courage. Plenty of time to extinguish that.
‘You are free with your promises, Sildaan. How good of you to pledge so much to me. I will demonstrate my gratitude thus.’ Ystormun snapped his fingers and his aide, a mage of some small talent, came to his side. ‘Are we set?’
The mage consulted a parchment he had been clutching in his hands.
‘Yes, my lord. The Ixii, the Gyalans, the Orrans, the Cefans and the identified militant Tuali are held and secure. The chosen places are the museum, two of the larger grain stores, a market square to the north of the city centre and the walled courtyard in front of Llyron’s mansion. None of the identified elves has a way out. We await only your word.’
‘Then the word is given,’ said Ystormun. He swung back to Sildaan. ‘There. See how easy it is?’
‘How easy what is?’
Ystormun sighed. ‘And I thought you were supposed to be among the smarter of your race. Garan told me so, but perhaps respecting his judgement was my mistake. I do not have the manpower to enslave your entire race. Indeed to harvest the resources we want I frankly don’t need your entire race. Neither do I have the manpower, or the desire, to keep them imprisoned. Such a cost. Cruel too, to keep creatures that desire freedom under lock and key, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Sildaan.
‘What I don’t want, I discard. That is the way to maximum efficiency, maximum profit and minimal chance of dissension.’ Ystormun watched Sildaan’s face crumple. He smiled. Power was such a wonderful thing to wield. ‘Ah, now you’re getting it. And since I do not want to risk any of my swordsmen getting injured during the process, I have asked my extremely talented and imaginative mages to carry out the procedure cleanly and quickly. This they can do at a distance. It’ll be painless too, which is a mercy I am happy to bestow.’
Sildaan’s face was as pale as a sharp-ears face could get. Tears were spilling down her cheeks and she could only gasp out her words. Near her, Llyron was too stunned even to speak.
‘Please, my lord. You have imprisoned thirty thousand – iad, ula and child. Innocents.’
‘No elf is innocent,’ said Ystormun. He turned to his mage. ‘Is it really as many as thirty thousand?’
‘That’s a good estimate, my lord.’
Ystormun raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, Sildaan, it’s fortunate that you have such a large forest in which to bury them all.’ The TaiGethen spread across the Path of Yniss, running hard at the human army. Grafyrre and Merrat were centre. Calling orders. Their grief and their passion ringing in every word. And the TaiGethen responded, chanting a mourning dirge as they came, the words echoing against the blank wall of nervous human soldiers.
Takaar ran on their left, Auum and Marack flanking him. He could feel every one who ran as if they were touching him. Their energy, their faith and their belief. Their desire for purification and vengeance. Ahead, the human army was halted. Their line was forty abreast with room to wield their longswords, broadswords and shields.
Behind the front ranks of swordsmen, mages cast. Brown and green orbs arced into the night sky, heading for the piazza. The mages raised their heads to see their handiwork only to be confronted by the onrushing TaiGethen. Orders were barked. Mage heads dropped in concentration again.
Twenty yards to impact.
‘Jaqrui!’ called Grafyrre. Hands grabbed out crescent blades. ‘Away!’
Takaar watched the deadly metal flash across the diminishing space. Shields were held out. Blades raised. Fear ran through the enemy. Takaar’s jaqrui slashed into the cheek of his target as he ducked and turned his head. Other crescents thudded into shields or careered from sword blades, shattering on walls or slicing into those behind. Most found flesh or leather armour.