‘This is where we met for the first time,’ said Auum, not turning.
‘Not precisely,’ said Nerille. ‘You were balanced atop that flagpole after all.’
‘Will you ever let me get away with the slightest inaccuracy?’
Auum turned, Ulysan with him, and Nerille shook her head.
‘Not while I draw breath,’ she said. ‘Gyal knows it’s good to see you.’
Auum embraced her, and Nerille clung to him hard, feeling the lack of strength in her arms and remembering the energy she used to have.
‘There was nowhere else I could be.’
‘Don’t you start,’ said Nerille.
Auum broke the embrace and kissed her eyes and forehead.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ask Tulan. What are you doing here, then? Come to watch me walk extremely slowly into the forest?’
Nerille studied Auum’s face. How old he must be. He’d witnessed thousands of years and yet he retained such vitality. And it would be thousands more before he showed the signs of a tiring body. But his would never deteriorate like hers, to the point where death seemed a sensible option. She knew why and she envied him the sheer joy that serving his faith gave him. Every day in the rainforest was a renewal. How magnificent to be inspired that way.
‘I heard a rumour that the Mother of Katura felt she was unlikely to survive the trip to Aryndeneth. I am here to ensure that she reaches her destination very much alive.’
‘Blabbermouth grandchildren,’ muttered Nerille, but she could not stop a smile crossing her face. ‘Well, whatever the reason, I’m. .’
It hit her then — the enormity of today and what it meant to have the Arch of the TaiGethen escort her away. She stepped away from Auum and looked quickly around at the huge open space where Katura had once stood and where the lines of foundations still ran like veins across the ground. A cascade of memories ran through her and with it came the tears, the weakness in the legs and Tulan and Auum’s arms about her, supporting her body and soul.
‘I don’t want this to end,’ she managed eventually. ‘I should have died here.’
‘Yniss blessed you with long life. So this is not an ending; it’s another step on the journey for you, and for Katura.’
Nerille composed herself, taking her time to wipe the tears from her face and stand unsupported again with her skirt smoothed and her shirt arranged properly about her shoulders.
‘You talk such rubbish sometimes, Auum,’ she said. ‘Still, at least you stopped my whimpering. Let’s go.’
‘It’s a long way,’ agreed Ulysan. ‘Best not waste time.’
‘That has nothing to do with it,’ said Nerille, recovered and beginning to feel mischievous like she was a child once more. ‘I fear staying here might lead to more pomposity from the Arch, and no one deserves having to put up with that.’
Chapter 2
All that I see is my gift to the elves, yet still I am reviled. Such is my eternal punishment.
Takaar looked down from the top of Crier’s Mound and found his sense of satisfaction and achievement undiminished by the passage of time. Indeed it had probably grown, intensified by the progress of all those he surveyed today and those further away, working with all he had taught them.
Laughter rose on a light breeze, dissipating into a clear blue sky.
‘And to think this was all my gift.’
That is an interesting interpretation of history.
‘I brought them to this place and look what they have achieved.’
No, Auum exiled you here with all your dribbling sycophants.
Takaar began to walk down the slope of the mound. The sun blessed the ground of the Ornouth Archipelago this morning. The sands sparkled, the channels between the islands shone and here on Herendeneth, the largest of the islands, the sounds of joyous life filled the air.
‘We needed a secluded place in which to do our work for the benefit of all elves. I was already considering this place.’
I might be mistaken, but I thought the last time you spoke to Auum he said you and the Il-Aryn would never have a place in the lives of elves and that the best thing you could do was draw a hurricane down on yourselves to rid the world of your dangerous meddling. I paraphrase, obviously. Expletives are so distasteful, aren’t they?
‘And I can’t believe that after seven hundred years you still think you can get a rise out of me with all this.’
You’re right, it’s a waste. All I have to do is quote the names Auum and Drech, don’t I?
Takaar said nothing but could not stop his jaw tensing. Instead of replying he focused on the extraordinary school he had created. What had begun as a simple wood and thatch house was now a sprawling mansion of stone and slate, robust enough to withstand all that the Sea of Gyaam could throw at them when the storm season came.
Over the centuries a large settlement had grown up around the mansion and at its height more than a thousand adepts and teachers had lived here. That number was currently a little over seven hundred because of the deal Takaar had brokered with the college city of Julatsa on Balaia. He expected the benefits of it would be felt over the coming decades as elven magical power and understanding grew exponentially.
Only you could believe that. Everyone else knows they are just cheap fodder when the humans go to war again.
‘That is a laughable accusation. Even for you it sounds desperate.’
Takaar walked past groups of students gathered in the open spaces laid out for range and area castings. Lectures were ongoing in the amphitheatre built into the southern face of the Crier’s Mound, and Takaar knew that under the domed roof at the centre of the mansion new adepts were taking their very first steps into the world of the Il-Aryn. It was their most dangerous time, and the sanatorium was ever busy with those unfortunates whose minds could not cope.
Takaar took comfort every day from the sheer energy he felt from each of those lucky enough to study here. It was an intellectual paradise, and those Gyalans and Ixii who tested themselves, then learned how to harness and to use their power, were unendingly grateful to him. Meanwhile he walked the paths of Herendeneth seeking new inspiration and moved among his people to better disseminate that wisdom.
Your people?
‘It is how I am viewed. I am the father of the Il-Aryn.’
Oh yes, the mystical leader. . Why not go the whole way and deify yourself? Then you can wander among your flock, blessing the chosen with knowledge, power and the pure joy your presence brings them.
Takaar felt a shiver of anger but forced a smile onto his face. His passage down the slope and into the midst of his students was drawing the usual attention, and he was always serene when in the company of the Il-Aryn.
Of course you do find it difficult to remain in their company for all that long, don’t you?
‘We all need our solitude,’ muttered Takaar. ‘Places where we can think and be inspired to learn.’
Those outbursts of yours against Drech have nothing to do with it, then?
‘Those will always be a matter of regret.’
Much as is your jealousy.
‘Be silent,’ hissed Takaar. ‘I have places to be and I do not need your insidious comments.’
He was nearing the grand main doors of the mansion, which were intricately carved hardwood set in a stone frame decorated with the symbols of elven magic. They were pulled open from within as he approached and a trio of his most promising adepts raced out, shrieking his name. They were iads, bright with excitement, and they crowded around him all speaking at once.