‘It rages through the lines. They run but their footprints turn to ash. Wickedness walks the streets. Feeding on the helpless. There is no defence. Why does the rain not fall?’
‘It’s coming,’ said Auum. ‘Soon.’
Takaar made no sign that he had heard Auum. ‘Separation. Cowering. The spire is lit up. They don’t believe. Hope is only scattered splinters.’
‘Please,’ said Auum. ‘Talk to me.’
Takaar’s voice dropped to a low mumble and nothing he said was distinct. His body had stilled now; only his eyes moved. He was blinking very rapidly. Abruptly, he relaxed completely. Tension flooded from him and he took in a deep and even breath.
‘They are killing us,’ he said. ‘And we have ushered them in.’
‘Who?’ asked Auum. ‘Men?’
Takaar’s eyes rested on Auum.
‘I know why you came here. I am not stupid.’
Auum fought to meet Takaar’s gaze. It sliced straight through to his soul.
‘We need you,’ he said. ‘Not just the TaiGethen. All the elves. They are unpicking all you have done. We’re going back to the War of Bloods unless you agree to stand with us. Unite us again.’
Takaar sat up and pushed himself back to sit against the bole of a tree in his bivouac. His head was shaking side to side, a small and rapid movement. He glanced to one side.
‘I know I caused it. You have no need to remind me of that again. You have been reminding me of my failing every day for ten years. Let me think.’
Auum found a vision in his head of walking into Ysundeneth with Takaar, only for him to gibber and argue with the voice in his head. Some saviour. Doubt swept him yet again.
‘Come back with me. Talk to the TaiGethen and the Silent at least. They are waiting for you.’ Auum took a breath, knowing what he was about to say was a gamble in Takaar’s fraught emotional state. ‘Katyett is waiting for you.’
Takaar didn’t react at once. His eyes searched the ground to his left. A hand rubbed idly at the earth.
‘She is alive?’ Takaar nodded to himself and tears began to fall down his cheeks. ‘She is the core of my betrayal. My cowardice. I was never worthy of her attentions and her love. I proved that, didn’t I?’
Auum said nothing in response. Takaar seemed to be searching inside himself. Auum prayed it was to seek the strength he would need in the days to come.
‘Takaar? I am TaiGethen. You are my brother and my Arch. Still to this day. Nothing has changed. We exist to serve Yniss in the ways you taught us. So I ask this of you. Come back to lead us. Come back to unite the threads. Come back to repair the harmony and bring us back into the grace of Yniss.’
Takaar stared at him for a long time. Fat from the deer hissed and spat into the fire.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘What happened when I ran?’
Chapter 23
The last refuge of he who has lost his courage is warm water and a sharp blade. The silence of Tul-Kenerit, the last bastion on Hausolis. Even the din of the approaching Garonin had not been able to mask it. Alone across the courtyard ran Takaar and the eye of every TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar followed him. Every pace he took bled will, belief and courage still further. Auum, like them all, refused to believe what he was witnessing.
Takaar did not pause, nor look over his shoulder. His hands slapped into the metal of the keep door. He bent his strength to it and slid it wide. He ran into the gloom and was lost to sight. The elves stared after him. Auum felt a desolation sweep him, like he was the only one left standing. He dragged his gaze from the keep, the still-open door, and looked along the rampart to Katyett and Pelyn, standing above the gates.
A whistling and whining.
The tumult of the approaching Garonin flooded his senses once more.
‘Brace!’ he yelled.
His shout was taken up across the bastion. Auum looked over the parapet. A hundred barrels had spat smoke and flame. A second volley was incoming and the first was yet to strike.
‘Yniss preserve us.’
Projectiles thundered into the upper section of the walls or flew overhead to drop in the courtyard. Heavy bow emplacements were obliterated. Timber shattered, splinters thrummed away, ripping into face, body and legs. Elves screamed. Impact after impact drove into the rampart wall. Steel bent and split. Stone was shattered. Bodies were flung backwards.
Auum crouched low behind the walls, his hands over his ears. If any orders were coming, no one could hear them. A great pall of smoke was rising from the gatehouse. He could see his brothers and sisters, ripped open and dismembered, lying on the parapet. Blood smeared every surface.
Another volley struck home. A projectile slammed into the wall right in front of Auum. Steel bent inwards, stone was shoved back. Auum was thrown from the rampart. He tried to orient his body as it spun helplessly under the force of the blow. The pitted ground of the courtyard rushed to meet him. He managed to turn into the impact, rolling over one shoulder, absorbing much of it. But his legs were not under control and they took him into a bruising tumble before he came to a stop fully seventy feet from where he had been crouched.
Auum pushed himself to his feet, staggering under sudden pain. He looked down. A thick splinter of wood jutted from his left boot. Blood seeped. He tested his weight on it. Not good. His hands were scraped raw and his leggings torn to shreds. His body armour had saved his torso from major damage.
Auum looked up at the rampart. Projectiles were dropping onto it and down into the courtyard. He kept staring as he moved towards whatever shelter he could find in the lee of the walls. There was no order up there. Elves were turning from the enemy, running to stair and ladder. Bodies were thick on the ground around him. Most were not moving. Others were already running for the keep.
The barrage ceased. Smoke wreathed the bastion, clearing slowly. Into the quiet came the cries of the injured and wails of the dying. Prayers were uttered to Yniss and Shorth. Those still largely unhurt were regrouping in the centre of the courtyard. A drumming sound came from without. Garonin infantry. Running.
‘Form up!’ Auum spun round. Fresh pain raced up his leg from the impaled foot. It was Katyett. Standing with Pelyn. ‘To me, brothers and sisters. Defend the keep.’
Auum hobbled towards them. A TaiGethen came to his shoulder, took some weight for him.
‘Thank you, Olmaat,’ he said.
‘Can you still hold a blade?’ asked Olmaat.
‘Both of them. Just don’t ask me to fight open hand.’
‘That time is past, I think.’
They hurried to the lines of elves at the door of the keep. It still stood open against what they knew was to come but which had to be delayed for every possible moment. Perhaps three hundred stood before the keep. Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen. Lines eight deep. Weapons ready.
Katyett stood front and centre. Her Tai was gone, Jaleea injured and surely unable to survive. Takaar fled. So Pelyn was next to her. Arch of the Al-Arynaar with the new Arch of the TaiGethen. Some strength still remained. Elves stood with them. Courage endured.
There was a metallic rattle, rhythmic. The steel plating on the walls of the bastion was shaking. The eyes of most elves were on the gates. They shouldn’t have been; the Garonin were climbing the walls. Gauntleted hands grasped the ruined rampart. Helmeted heads and armoured bodies appeared. Legs thumped down onto the parapet. Without pause, they jumped down into the courtyard and the flood of enemy stormed in like a wave breaching a dam.
‘Steady,’ called Katyett. ‘Steady. On my order, front four ranks move up to engage.’
The Garonin covered the ground with frightening speed. Weapons were level. Barrels spat short tongues of flame. Defenceless elves were cut down.
‘Engage!’
TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar ran forward. Unable to fight on the move, Auum stood with Olmaat in front of the door of the keep. TaiGethen, sprinting ahead of their Al-Arynaar comrades, flew at the Garonin soldiers. Blades flashed. Enemies fell. A roar rose among the defenders. A release of anger, an expression of frustration and shock.