Takaar’s eyes fell on the ula who had spoken.
‘What is his name?’ he whispered to Pelyn.
‘Calen,’ said Pelyn, and there was admiration in her voice. ‘Looks like I won’t need you for my nectar after all.’
Takaar took Pelyn’s hand. ‘Stay a while.’
Well. If you wanted an audience, you’ve certainly found it. All this time I’ve been urging you to kill yourself. Silly me. All I needed to do was wait until your ego did the job for me.
Takaar smiled. He was so close to the Ixii that he guessed the Tuali would not use their bows. They were forty strong at least, but there were a couple of hundred Ixii behind him and more were hurrying to join them.
‘Calen,’ said Takaar. ‘I’ve wanted to talk to you.’
Calen ignored him. He had a savage bearing. One ear was ripped and its tip hung out, broken. He wore dark clothes and a pale brown leather coat. His hands were latticed with scars and there was an ugly tear on his forehead.
‘Pelyn,’ he said. ‘We were worried about you. What are you doing with this coward? He abandoned you long ago. You’re with us now.’
Pelyn tensed to move and Takaar tightened his grip.
‘She’s fine right where she is. We have business with the Ixii, and then you and I must talk about the defence of Katura.’
Calen laughed. ‘The Ixii are weak and hide in their hovels while those of us who remain strong keep them safe. You talk to no one unless I say so.’
Takaar glanced over his shoulder. The Ixii stared on, most not knowing what to think.
‘Oh?’ said Takaar. ‘But Pelyn is governor of this city, is she not?’
A ripple of mirth ran through the Tualis. Takaar shook his head and turned to the Ixii.
‘Let me tell you why I am here and why you must come with me.’
‘There are ten bows trained on your back, Takaar,’ said Calen. ‘You will turn and respect me.’
‘Shoot, Calen,’ said Takaar, not turning. ‘Will they all hit me? Or will some strike Pelyn or the Ixii you say you protect. Will you stand there when they rush you to avenge a murder? Shoot.’
Calen did not give the order. Instead he called on his people to advance. Takaar smiled, continuing to ignore the Tuali and to address the Ixii. He could sense the swirling potential of the Il-Aryn in them. He had to make them feel it for themselves.
‘You will know nothing of the Il-Aryn. It is a power that runs through you, which you can harness to make you stronger. I have been studying it ever since man took our cities and I have teachers waiting to help you learn to use it. You have nothing to lose. There is a world of wonder awaiting you, should you free yourselves, and if nothing else, I am offering you a way out of the slow death you face here.’
The point of a sword pricked the back of Takaar’s neck.
‘Don’t make this difficult,’ said Calen. ‘I had to force Lysael to leave and I will do the same to you. It is over.’
Takaar dropped to his haunches, spun and stood, one hand grabbing Calen’s sword arm, the other placed over his face. Takaar fed the Il-Aryn along his arm, focusing it to a fine point and seeing, in his mind, a surging pale crescent that spun to a blur. He gave it freedom.
Fire encased Calen’s head. The Tuali screamed and clawed at Takaar’s hand, his strength already failing. The flames blackened his flesh in an instant and scored the hair from his head. His body juddered and twitched as the heat seared through his skull and into his brain. Steaming blood exploded from his eyes and mouth while his ears melted.
Takaar closed his hand, crushing Calen’s skull into fragments. His body, smoking from the neck and what remained of his head, dropped to the ground. Takaar wiped his hand on his trousers and looked at the Ixii, who, like the Tualis and Pelyn, had backed away from him.
‘Who wants to learn how to do that?’
Chapter 27
Our research on Garan has produced startling results. The magical renewal of vital organ tissue stimulates a certain level of skin regeneration. We can, without doubt, keep a human being alive indefinitely. We must now concern ourselves with age prevention methods to make our next leap forward.
From On Immortality by Ystormun, Lord of Calaius
Even at the speed of a TaiGethen, the run to Katura took five days. The humans would be there in no more than another ten. Auum had left two cells to harry the enemy, to try to slow them just by being seen, to pick off hunters and stragglers too, but it was no more than token action.
They had lost six in the disaster in the Scar while many others who ran with Auum were injured both in body and spirit. Without the two cells following the Ysundeneth army, and Corsaar with his two cells still presumably tracking the Shorthian force, Auum would reach Katura with only twelve cells. He gathered them to him in the last cover before the land opened up to reveal the palm of Yniss and its scarred beauty.
‘We are hurt by our defeat but we are not beaten by it,’ he said, putting an arm around Grafyrre’s shoulders and pulling the warrior close. ‘We are a family and the mistakes we made yesterday are understood and must be put aside. Today begins the final task. Should we fail, the elven race is finished. Should we succeed, and succeed we will, then the liberation of our people is at hand.’
Auum paused and looked into their faces.
‘We have all heard the stories of what has happened in Katura. We all know the crimes committed against Lysael and we will avenge them. But not every soul in that place is evil. Strength and purpose are only obscured by a veil of despair and the lack of hope. Tear that veil aside and we will see the true spirit of elves once more.
‘We must see it, because we cannot do this on our own.’
Auum released Grafyrre, kissing his forehead.
‘Make no mistake. We are going to take control of Katura. There will be resistance and we must not hesitate to break it. Not one among us wishes to strike down another elf, but I can see no path before us where that will not happen. The vilest of criminals hides there and they will not meekly set their influence aside.
‘Pray that the good and the wavering listen to us. Pray that the harmony is not torn beyond repair. Pray that those we love and have left for too long are still alive.
‘Pray with me.’
Ystormun lay on his bed, his sweat soaking the sheets. The Communion was desperate and painful. He felt fear in the cadre’s minds for the first time and it did him great physical harm.
‘You have not acted fast enough,’ accused Giriamun.
‘How dare you,’ replied Ystormun.
‘Then how far from their goal are they?’ asked Pamun.
‘A maximum of twelve days. Less if the ground eases.’
A concerted howl erupted from the minds of the five and Ystormun shrieked with the pain that blistered his psyche.
‘You delayed for too long before sending them out. Your love of the elves will be the undoing of us all.’ Aramun’s voice boomed around his skull. ‘We need those men.’
‘And you will have them,’ said Ystormun. ‘Surely your strength of arms is enough to hold off our enemies.’
‘Idiot!’ Pamun again. ‘If it were, then we would not be wasting our energies on you.’
‘Then I shall call off this attack and you shall have your precious men sooner. Unfortunately, that will mean handing Calaius back to the Sharps. Perhaps you consider that a small price to pay?’
‘Calaius can never be lost to us,’ said Weyamun.
‘Then let me do my job as you do yours. You assume our troubles are caused by my failure. I contend that they are due to yours. Perhaps you need me to help you with your tactics?’
The noise was unbearable yet Ystormun found some small satisfaction within it.
‘You gave me no choice,’ he said. ‘And now I am happy to return the favour. Do not trigger a conflict now. Direct your energies towards diplomacy for as long as you must.’
‘Fool,’ said Aramun. ‘We are not the ones who seek conflict. Others do and we may be powerless to stop them.’