Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 19

Takaar raised his head. The beauty of the dome he’d created rested in its absence of chaos. Even the air was still as if the breeze could not penetrate, or more likely the mana was a catalyst for the other elements.

Fascinating.

Gilderon’s interruption was unwelcome.

Quite the opposite. It means that you have been saved and, happily, so have I.

‘What would you have me do with them?’ asked Gilderon.

Takaar curled his lip and bit back a comment.

That was an uncharitable thought, even for you.

‘But I must release the casting. I can’t move it with me; it’s simply too complex.’

‘Any who attempt to cast will be killed. We’ll stand close,’ said Gilderon.

A sound solution.

‘Demonstrate your intent and ability to them. Pick anyone. None of them is pure, none deserves life.’

‘Your wish,’ said Gilderon. Takaar saw him making hand gestures to one of the others. ‘We’re ready.’

Takaar stood. He felt oddly powerful, a little giddy with it. He stared at the humans, who were being herded into a single tighter group. He saw one of the Senserii, Teralion, standing two paces to the left of a powerfully built mage whose face radiated fury and humiliation.

‘I am about to release the casting that has so easily defeated you. Perhaps you shouldn’t have scoffed at my offers of help.’ Takaar found his heart beating very hard and his breathing became shallow and gasping. ‘We should have been allies and now we are enemies. Some of you will think to cast. Gilderon will demonstrate why that is unwise.’

Your grip is slipping. Can you hold on any longer? The tension is unbearable.

Gilderon nodded once. Teralion’s staff jabbed up into his target’s skull at the occipital bone. The mage collapsed, his spasmodic twitching mercifully brief. A chorus of muttered swearing ran around the corralled humans.

‘The Senserii are among the finest fighters the elves possess. I leave your casting decisions to you.’

Takaar dismissed the spell. Every human eye was on the body of the unfortunate mage. Takaar walked towards them as steadily as he could though he was feeling a pain in his head and a stabbing behind his eyes that distracted him.

Going. . going. .

‘Be quiet!’ hissed Takaar.

Takaar searched the faces, seeing fear, anger and belligerence in equal measure. He pointed at the mage who had so belittled him without even knowing him.

‘I will talk to you. Leave the group,’ he said in elvish, knowing the mage understood him. ‘Gilderon, watch the rest.’

The mage, despite protests from his friends, walked through the circle of Senserii.

‘You have no idea of the mistake you have just made, do you?’ he said in Balaian loud enough for his people to hear.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Takaar.

‘Pryfors. A name that resonates in Xetesk and beyond. I am one of this country’s premier research masters.’

Takaar shrugged. ‘You haven’t found anything here though, have you?’

Good question.

‘Thank you.’

Credit where it is due.

‘Please, I am trying to talk to Pryfors.’

I’ll do my best to remain silent but you know how tricky that can be.

Takaar chuckled and felt the tension ease in his head and chest. Pryfors was staring at him.

‘Who are you talking to?’

‘No one,’ said Takaar.

I beg your pardon?

‘Well, you know what I mean.’

No, I don’t.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Pryfors.

Takaar blinked. ‘Why am I talking to you? Do you know anything?’

Pryfors glanced round at his colleagues, and when he turned back there was a new lightness in his expression.

‘Look, it’s been a long day and an even longer night. People have died, and none of us wants more killing, right?’

‘In a war people have to die,’ said Takaar, unsure where Pryfors was going.

The mage breathed in deeply and deliberately.

‘They do, but, as you said, we need not be enemies. We have to defeat the Wytch Lords because they threaten both man and elf.’

‘I know this already,’ said Takaar, he clutched for the giddy power he had experienced so recently but found tiredness and confusion instead. ‘They occupied my country, you know. The memories are so fresh.’

Pryfors stared at him. ‘That was seven hundred years ago.’

‘I am immortal,’ said Takaar, then he smiled. ‘But not invulnerable.’

Brilliant.

‘What do you want to know?’ asked Pryfors. ‘My people are scared, they are tired and they have seen one of their friends murdered in front of them.’

‘It was you who chose this fight,’ spat Takaar.

Pryfors recoiled and put up his hands. ‘And it was a mistake. I acknowledge that.’

‘People never listen to me, not to what I really say. They make assumptions and they judge me. Always wrongly. Only Garan understood me.’

They were still standing only a few paces from the prisoners and their Senserii guard. Takaar thought to move away but Gilderon’s slight gesture bade him stay put.

He just wants to hear what the mage says.

‘He has earned that right,’ said Takaar.

‘Who, Garan?’

‘No, Gilderon. Garan died hundreds of years ago, didn’t he?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Pryfors. He shifted on his feet and bit his lip. ‘Just ask your questions.’

Takaar regarded Pryfors and frowned. He had so many questions but could not recall a single one. No, wait. Something Kerela had alluded to. .

‘Where are the researchers from the other colleges?’

Pryfors smiled indulgently, or perhaps it was in relief.

‘Only Xetesk possesses the ability to uncover the whereabouts of Dawnthief. Representatives of other colleges were here of course but all have. . withdrawn.’

Takaar raised his eyebrows. ‘How odd. I spoke at length to the council in Julatsa and they were sure they had a team here. Elves and men alike. Talented mages.’

Pryfors’ smile faltered slightly. ‘There has been a recent change in circumstances.’

Takaar shook his head, trying to release the pressure suddenly present in his skull. His tormentor’s voice was drowned out by a clamour in his mind. He tried to focus on Pryfors’ face if only to dull the noise inside him.

‘A change,’ he managed.

Pryfors nodded. ‘Let me explain. Dawnthief is a spell that requires the most extreme care. We are all aware of its devastating potential and this ruin is ample example of the lengths our enemies will go to gain it for themselves. Xetesk is the only college strong enough to properly protect the spell, research it and ensure it remains inert.’

‘The Wesmen did not do this,’ muttered Takaar.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Takaar wondered again why he was talking to this man. He didn’t seem to know terribly much.

‘Septern guarded his lands. The Wesmen triggered his castings. Follow the latent energy trails. It should be obvious to one so talented.’

Pryfors stiffened. ‘Your eyes are keen.’

‘And my ears are sharp.’ Takaar tripped Pryfors and followed him down, putting a knife to his throat. ‘I am uncomfortable with liars. I don’t like being uncomfortable.’

Pryfors did not hide his fear. Takaar had a hand on his neck and a knee on his stomach. He tried to push Takaar away but quietened quickly, surprised by the elf’s strength. The Senserii levelled their ikari at the prisoners to quell their disquiet.

‘Please. Whatever you want,’ gasped Pryfors. ‘What do you want?’

That really is a good question.

‘Just be quiet.’

‘All right, whatever you want.’

‘Not you!’ spat Takaar. ‘Why don’t you know when I’m not talking to you?’

Takaar sighed extravagantly, his sense of frustration intense, eclipsing his pain and his fatigue.

‘Please,’ said Pryfors again.

‘I hate to be wrong, it makes me very angry, but I’m wondering something. Auum said you wanted Dawnthief for yourselves to gain dominance. He said you didn’t send forces to Julatsa because you would be happy if Julatsa fell to the Wytch Lords and Wesmen. I disagreed with him. You will tell me the truth.’

‘All right, all right. We have no love for Julatsa but we also have no hatred of elves. We know we have to live together.’

Takaar pushed the knife into Pryfors’ skin. Blood leaked and Pryfors whimpered.

‘One more chance. I have made errors more costly in terms of lives than you could possibly match. I am forgiving. I am Takaar.’

Pryfors’ words came out in a rush. ‘The Julatsan team here was too close to an answer. We couldn’t let them discover the spell. They would not share their information and they would not back away. We had our orders and the Protectors can be commanded from great distance. I’m sorry their team had to be killed but they brought it on themselves. And then the Wesmen laid their siege. Julatsa is not the all-embracing peaceful college it claims to be; the Julatsans are dangerous and aggressive. They would challenge us after the Wytch Lords are defeated. So yes, we decided not to come to Julatsa’s aid. . they would have done the same.’

Takaar stood up. Pryfors lay where he was for a moment before getting slowly to his feet. Takaar shoved him back towards the rest of them.

‘I understand your anger at the death of the elves in the Julatsan team,’ said Pryfors. ‘We can make recompense to your nation and their families. We can-’

‘Have you understood nothing?’ shouted Takaar. His head was hot, his fingers were tingling and his grip on his knife was painful. ‘I was wrong and Auum was right. How could you let that happen?’

‘All I did was tell you the truth.’

‘And I do not like it,’ said Takaar.

Someone was hiding something from you. Maybe even Gilderon. He must have known.

Takaar shot a glance at Gilderon, whose expression was hidden behind his filthy cloth mask.

‘We are not your enemies. We are the power in this country. Side with us.’

Pryfors was back inside the ring of Senserii. His people were frightened. Takaar strode up to him, the reality of the situation suddenly obvious like a rush of Gyal’s tears on dry ground.

‘There is only one power in this country, and it is the magic of the Il-Aryn. You’ll see. I can sense so much that you cannot. No matter how you search you’ll never find the spell because it isn’t here. Not physically. I can find it though. I’ve travelled the dimensions before and I will research and understand all that Septern wrote. I will be the one to hold the power, I shall return myself to my rightful position and the elves shall be the masters. Then it won’t matter that Auum was right because we won’t need Auum, will we? He and his precious TaiGethen can be consigned to history. I was born for this moment. Yniss blessed me with the gift of the Il-Aryn so I possessed the skills to unlock the great secrets.

‘This is my destiny.’

That is your best yet. Over eight hundred years we’ve been together and you have exceeded even my expectations.

They were all staring at Pryfors and he was relating to them what Takaar had just said. Some of them managed to laugh but mostly they switched their stares to Takaar. The Senserii had eyes only for their prisoners but there was a tension in their stances which was at odds with their nature.

‘You’re raving,’ said Pryfors.

‘I am fulfilling my purpose.’

‘You don’t understand. You are not a lore scholar. You can never unlock Dawnthief. You could never cast it.’

Takaar smiled. ‘I am immortal. I can learn.’

‘Let me help you,’ said Pryfors, brightening.

‘I do my best work alone,’ said Takaar.

What, testing poisons out on yourself that didn’t ever quite kill you?

Takaar ignored the voice. A sense of calm was descending on him. The path was laid. Here, in this place, he would do his greatest work, even greater than creating the harmony. It would define man and elf anew, place them in their rightful positions.

There was just one minor unpleasantness to deal with. Takaar stood as if deep in thought while he constructed the dome once more and put it back in place. Consternation fled through the prisoners, those that felt the touch of magic anyway.

‘Gilderon, flethar kon aryn bleen.’ Make the earth red.

Takaar turned his back. Pryfors’ desperate cries were the first to be silenced.

When Gilderon sought out Takaar later, he was sifting through the ruins of the Manse, drawing lines on the ground and scratching marks on a piece of tree bark. Gilderon and the Senserii had moved the bodies downwind, laid out for reclamation by whatever beasts roamed Balaia. The Protectors had been accorded particular respect, their weapons cleaned and laid with them.

They had prayed then, long and fervently, seeking a means of escape from their confusion, or rather seeking confirmation that their decision was blessed by Yniss and the pantheon of elven gods. They had cleaned their ikari and their masks, using the Xeteskians’ ample supply of water. They had freed the humans’ horses to roam wherever they willed and set up a rolling guard about the perimeter, allowing six at a time to sleep.

‘The Protector who ran looked as if he died of fright,’ said Gilderon.

Takaar’s shrug was the merest acknowledgement of his words.

‘All are laid out for reclamation.’

‘You should have left them where they were,’ said Takaar.

‘They were courageous warriors who deserved respect. This fight was not of their choosing and we Senserii know more about that than anyone.’

Takaar paused in his drawings, which looked to Gilderon like the map of energy lines Takaar had carved in the temple at Aryndeneth. He turned his head to consider Gilderon.

‘Perhaps you are more insightful than you let on,’ said Takaar. ‘There was something else within the rope of mana that secured them to whatever place it was rooted. Something living.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ said Takaar, and his smile held no kindness. ‘Is there more you wish to tell me?’

‘We have brought you as far as we can,’ said Gilderon, and a weight lifted from his shoulders, letting him breathe in the fresh air as if for the first time. ‘We will leave at dawn. We will find the Wesmen reading party. They won’t bother you, but you know more will be coming from Xetesk.’

‘So you choose to betray me too,’ said Takaar, his eyes dead in his skull and his hands itching at his forearms. ‘Just like Auum. Just like Drech.’

Gilderon tensed. ‘I am faster than Drech.’

‘I will not kill you, Gilderon, even though you would not be fast enough.’

‘We must all choose our paths, Takaar. This search for the spell is the wrong one. Auum and our brother and sister elves are walking into a trap — heading, at your instigation, to join Xeteskian forces who want them dead. We have to warn them. We have to fight with them.’

Takaar sighed. ‘I suppose it was inevitable that you wouldn’t understand. Why would you? Only I can see the truth. You’ll be too late, you know.’

Gilderon inclined his head. ‘We have to try.’

Takaar turned back to his drawing and marks. He was muttering, talking to his other self.

‘Will you find it?’ asked Gilderon, curious in spite of himself.

Takaar said nothing, didn’t even appear to have heard the question.

‘Takaar?’