With every pace Yron feared the sound of a jaqrui, its ghostly wailing as it scythed towards his back or his head. Erys's arrival had surely exhausted their luck and came close to the miracle for which he'd been hoping, but the death of the ClawBound pair, when it was discovered, would intensify the hunt. And they were still two days from the estuary and – he hoped – the welcoming embrace of the reserve force and the ship back to Balaia.
He still hadn't let himself believe they would make it because he was sure it would dull his focus. And with the TaiGethen after them, that was something he could not afford. Yet slung between him and Erys was a man whose cries would surely attract the hunters. Ben-Foran's legs were festering. The bandages were mostly torn off now, exposing his terrible wounds to the elements and a new host of remorseless insects and burrowing worms.
How the boy was still alive was beyond him. Erys had intimated the same and had expended what little there was left of his mana stamina trying to numb the pain and fight the infection. But there was so much damage and he was already exhausted. Yron was grateful he had the strength to support some of Ben's weight.
They'd walked without stopping for more than an occasional short breather until well into the afternoon. Ben had drifted in and out of consciousness but had kept up his questions and talk whenever he was alert. But thirst had overcome them and Yron had boiled water and herbs together for them all, scraping guarana into the mixture to disguise its unpalatable texture and taste.
Following the inevitable rainfall, they'd continued, and now the sun was waning in the sky as the clouds gathered for another soaking. Like them all, Yron suspected, he had come to almost welcome it.
'Do they do anything else, the TaiGethen?' asked Ben suddenly.
Yron hadn't realised the boy had regained consciousness and he laughed.
'Mind still going, is it, son?' he said.
'About the only thing that is, sir.'
'Anything else than what?' Erys joined the conversation.
There'd been a lengthy and deepening silence between them all and the sound of their own voices lifted their spirits from the pit into which they had fallen.
'Well, I don't know. Looking after the temple and the forest, I suppose,' said Ben.
'No, they don't. And actually they don't look after the temple directly. That's the elves we fought, the Al-Arynaar. They are the keepers. They rotate their duties and live in villages much of the time. The TaiGethen never leave the forest. Not ever.'
'So what do they do?' asked Ben.
'Well, besides the obvious it's actually rather hard to explain. They have a complex set of beliefs built around the harmony of the forest, the earth, the sky and magic. The TaiGethen are effectively the most zealous priests of the religion and they spend their lives dedicated to maintaining that harmony. Whatever it takes. Hunting people like us they believe have wronged them, monitoring animal populations, keeping tabs on elven settlements and logging. That sort of thing.'
'Like a city guard,' said Erys. 'But in the forest, if you see what I mean.'
'Hardly,' said Yron. 'That's like saying – I don't know – that Protectors are like city militia, only better trained. The TaiGethen have tracking and hunting skills like you wouldn't believe. Or maybe you would, Erys. They are silent, they're impossibly quick and you never see them until they're about to kill you. They don't want pay or glory. Bloody hell, they make Protectors look clumsy and slow, that's how good they are.'
There was a contemplative silence. They walked on, skirting a particularly thick web in which a huge spider was wrapping up its latest catch, and ducking under the moving branches of a balsa tree. Above them, a young python watched, too small to consider them likely prey. The air was getting heavier as rain neared.
'And you think we can make the ship?' asked Ben yet again.
'If our luck holds,' replied Yron, same as always. 'I know what you're saying, but they really are that good. There just aren't very many of them in relation to the size of the forest.'
'Will they chase us across the sea, do you think?' asked Erys. 'Gods, I want this to be over when we get on board.'
Yron shook his head. 'Not them. We've only taken a few papers, when all's said and done. It's a crime, but when we're out of the forest the harmony can be restored. No, we'll get delegations from the Al-Arynaar and probably the race elders.' Yron chuckled. 'Don't worry, Erys; you won't have to spend every day looking over your shoulder.'
Another silence but it had a clearer quality to it. Yron might have scared them with his description of the TaiGethen, but the thought of the safety of the ships was a spur to the mind and body, and for a few hundred yards the forest didn't seem so dense. And then the rain came, and the world closed in again. With over a dozen Al-Arynaar staying at Aryndeneth, there was plenty of room in the boats at the moorings two hours east of the temple on the River Shorth. Word was that more Al-Arynaar were coming from all directions. They would be sent immediately downstream to the estuary, or towards Ysundeneth along the Ix in case any of the strangers broke that way. Hirad thought the latter unlikely, given they'd have very little knowledge of anything other than their original route, but it kept the net tight.
Four of the shallow elven craft began the race to the Shorth Estuary, which cut into the north coast of Calaius perhaps three days' sail east of Ysundeneth. The Shorth was one of the three principal rivers draining the rainforest, but unlike the Ix and the Orra none of its feeder streams connected with its sisters. Three boats carried a dozen elves each and one The Raven and Rebraal, who was none too pleased to be forced to travel with the humans despite their grudging truce.
Hirad found it all a little comical if irritating. The Raven were shunned almost completely – tolerated only because Ilkar was Rebraal's brother – and assumed to be inferior. It was also clear that Ilkar and Ren were somehow lessened by their association with the humans. That The Raven might actually be able to help the elves hadn't occurred to them at all as far as he could see.
'Don't let it get to you,' said The Unknown, seeing Hirad scowl across at the nearest boat full of Al-Arynaar.
'We're ready to fight a battle for them,' said Hirad. 'We won't get paid although we might get hurt and they're treating us like shit. Sorry, but it is getting to me.'
'They can't discard centuries of prejudice just like that,' said Ilkar from further forward, beneath the billowing sail. There was no need to row just yet, the breeze angling across the Shorth driving them at a good speed on the back of the prevailing current. 'Particularly with what's just happened to them.'
'But we aren't anything to do with the temple raiders,' said Hirad. 'Do they assume all elves are the same? Is it so difficult for them to understand people can be different from one another? Gods, Ilkar, but if you weren't an elf I wouldn't be putting up with this.'
'So do it for Ilkar alone,' said The Unknown.
'I am,' said Hirad. 'And Ren. And any elf I know that's still alive back on Balaia. I would just like some recognition from this ungrateful bunch that we're on their side and trying to help. Not too much to ask.'
'They aren't like us,' said Denser. 'You just have to accept that.'
'That doesn't make it all right, Denser.' Hirad looked along the bench to where the Xeteskian sat with Erienne in his arms. 'I'm not like them. Don't see me being a tosser do you?'