‘I am Nerille.’
‘How long has Takaar been here?’
‘For two days. His arrival caused trouble with the Tualis, and he killed Calen, head of the thread gang. For that we are thankful. Every dead supplier of edulis is a good one.’
Auum had to smile. Even in Takaar’s madness, there remained a core that was good.
‘Where is he now? With the Gyalans? Or perhaps the Ixii?’
Nerille raised her eyebrows. ‘You know why he’s here, then. He says it is for the good of all elves. I presume he’s here to fight.’
‘I wish that were true,’ said Auum. ‘But he wants to take those he seeks away to train them as mages when they should remain here and hold blades. How many has he convinced?’
‘Quite a lot.’ Nerille shrugged. ‘Two hundred? I don’t really know. He speaks to them several times a day, urging them to bring more to the next meeting. They are captivated by him.’
‘Where does he speak?’
‘In the temple of Ix.’
Nerille pointed across the circle to the garishly painted temple, its single spire twisting up to the heavens and its founding timbers carved to resemble the roots of trees.
‘Thank you, Nerille, that is most helpful.’
She smiled. ‘Can we beat them, the enemy? I have a family, ulas of fighting age, though two of the three seem to have become devotees of Takaar. I will not risk them in grand failure.’
‘We will prevail,’ said Auum. ‘And if it makes you happier, I will stand by them and see them survive. We must save as many as we can. You are all that is left of the free elves.’
Nerille took his hands impulsively. ‘We will stay. We will fight.’
Auum kissed her cheeks then drew back, another question on his mind.
‘Is Pelyn still alive?’
Nerille sighed. ‘Yes, after a fashion. She fell under Calen’s spell and it is a spell not easily broken. She’s with Takaar now, what’s left of her.’
Auum stared at the temple. ‘She’s about to discover she has work to do.’
Chapter 28
There was a moment when some elves questioned their god-given right to own the rainforest and the survival of the entire race hung by a gossamer thread.
From A Charting of Decline, by Pelyn, Arch of the Al-Arynaar, Governor of Katura
As Auum marched into the temple of Ix, Pelyn was once again counting the time since her last smoke of nectar. Its absence burned through her mind and made mud of her bones. It shouted through every nerve and made each breath a quivering exertion of almost insurmountable magnitude.
Her nose could smell it, her teeth ground on its memory and her eyes fogged with images of it. She couldn’t escape the memory of smoke writhing in the air, the glorious feeling of the spirit washing through her body, the escape over the waters to the retreat of her mind, the feeling of others around her, at one with her body and loving her flesh so much that they clung to her always.
‘Need it,’ she muttered.
‘No, you don’t,’ whispered a voice.
Pelyn was startled. Takaar was in the middle of an oration. The temple was full of his acolytes hanging on his every word, devouring his promises and eager to taste the glory of the Il-Aryn. He was no better than Calen had been, busy peddling his own drug, his own promises. But Calen was dead and her route to edulis had gone because she was being chaperoned day and night. She’d only just remembered their names even though they were very old friends.
Pelyn hunched her shoulders and looked to the ula on her left. He was Tuali, strong and loyal, though if her memory served he hadn’t always been that way.
‘Tulan,’ she said. ‘You know I’ve broken the habit, don’t you? So one more won’t hurt. Just to say goodbye.’
‘I’m afraid we need you clean,’ said another voice, Ephram’s.
Both were Al-Arynaar and both were wearing their cloaks once again.
‘What happened to you?’ she frowned, wondering why she cared. Neither of them seemed likely to supply her.
‘When the purge came we hid in the ghetto, just as you told us to, waiting for our chance to return. As you said we should.’
‘I said that?’ Pelyn smiled. ‘So I saved you. Are you grateful enough to find me some nectar? It really will be the last time.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Tulan. ‘I-’
There was an ula walking down one of the aisles towards the dais from which Takaar was speaking. No one moved to stop him. No one dared.
‘When did he get here?’
Pelyn had been aware of the odd snatch of noise from outside the temple but had thought it was just the normal business of a market day. A theatre group perhaps; there still was one in Katura. It seemed she had been wrong. She watched Auum. He moved with such poise. Eyes were drawn to him from across the temple and eventually even Takaar was forced to acknowledge him.
‘Ah, a cloud has come to cover the sun,’ he said, and the temperature in the temple seemed to cool. ‘An ill voice comes to disrupt our harmony. Please, my elves of the new age, stay. I will return when Auum and I have spoken.’
‘I have no intention of conducting this conversation in private,’ said Auum, his tones providing a harsh counterpart to Takaar’s gentle oration. ‘This must stop.’
For a moment the craving left Pelyn while she watched the two most powerful elves on Calaius clash like panthers over hunting grounds.
‘They will not listen to you, and why should they? These are free elves. Free of will and free of thought. And they have chosen the path for the new generation. The Il-Aryn courses through their bodies and I will give them control of it and so bring us the power we need to rid Calaius of man.’
‘Going to do all that in ten days, are you?’
Auum’s tone was contemptuous. He had continued walking until he stood a mere pace from Takaar. His whole body was a signature of the threat he posed. Takaar was quick but Auum was like lightning, and Pelyn could see Takaar knew it.
Takaar chuckled and waved a hand. ‘With the TaiGethen among us, we need not fear man, surely?’
‘You haven’t told them, have you?’ Auum pointed north. ‘An army is coming. Following you. It will be here in ten days. The great Takaar forgot to mention it, didn’t he? There is a time for magic but it is not now. Any of you who leave with him are nothing but cowards running from the fight.
‘Look at you. All of you. Fit young ulas and iads whose minds are being tricked. What use is there in magic if there is no elven race left to save with it? You must stand with me and fight with blade, bow and fist. Standing together, we are strong enough. Leave and you weaken us all. When the battle is won, go with my blessing. But not now. I need you. The elven race needs you.’
‘They do not need your blessing to become Il-Aryn.’ Takaar’s whole face was a sneer. ‘But I tell you what: I will give them the choice you would deny them. Any of you who wish to fight, bleed and die with Auum, please move outside. Any who wish to stay and learn the greatest of lessons, remain seated.’
Not one of them left; they applauded and Auum stood humiliated. Pelyn feared what he might do, but there was not a twitch towards violence.
‘You are a traitor to the elves, Takaar,’ said Auum when the applause had died down.
Takaar did not appear to care. ‘No, Auum, if anyone betrays us it is you and those who would deny the future of us all.’
‘Very well. Take your people and go. But do it now. No other will be allowed to join you. Do not make a scene and do not make a fuss. I will not allow you to grandstand your miserable exit. And when you reach whatever hiding place you have in the forest, send me the Senserii. At least give me them. They are worth ten of each of your little gang.’
‘I will not give up my loyal defenders,’ said Takaar. ‘But I will give you this.’
He unshouldered his backpack and proffered it to Auum with the reverence due a priceless religious token. Auum stared at it and then at Takaar, contempt making a mask of his features.