Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 22

Ystormun strode across the rotunda, desperate to reach his rooms and rest. But he was not quick enough. Giriamun and Weyamun spotted him from across the great chamber. They were seated in two of the six ornate but terribly uncomfortable thrones built for the ceremonies of obedience and the swearing of loyalty from the Wesmen lords at the heart of the temple of Parve, but they pushed aside the advisors and slaves attending them in order to stand. Giriamun called his name.

His tone was laced with such malice that the mortals in the rotunda scattered, seeking refuge from whatever was to be unleashed about them. Ystormun paused mid-stride and held his head high, though he wanted nothing more than to let it fall to his chest, such was his weariness.

Instead he turned and walked towards them, steadily and with pride in his bearing. Weyamun chose simply to glare but Giriamun was allowing mana to crackle across his face and down his cloaked arms to spit from his fingertips.

‘Very impressive,’ said Ystormun. ‘Do you have some new slave you wish to amaze with your little show?’

‘With your every move, meddling in tasks not appointed to you, you weaken us further,’ said Giriamun, shutting off the mana stream. ‘And you do not even show us the respect of admitting your failures.’

‘I think the real sadness is that you were so absent from your duties that you did not notice my attempts to advance our cause until now.’

‘Absent?’ roared Weyamun. Chill fled around the rotunda. There were mortals screaming nearby. ‘Your hold on your position in the cadre is wafer thin, Ystormun. Our tasks took us to the brokering of a deal that will all but hand us Dawnthief on a plate. Meanwhile, you were stealing my forces and failing utterly to break Julatsa. Not only that; hundreds of your precious elven enemies escaped and you have no idea where they are.’

‘That is an interesting take on events, Weyamun, but I would expect little more from one as feeble-minded as you. You were a very long time negotiating something that will leave our ground forces scattered across Balaia and vulnerable to Xetesk the moment they choose to betray us — which of course they will and sooner than we think to betray them. It is a fool’s pact that we did not need to accept.’

‘Preposterous!’ spluttered Giriamun.

‘It is nothing of the kind, and you will see, in the coming days, that my actions with Julatsa were wise indeed. Significant numbers of our forces remain alive. Many elves died, many mages and many of the TaiGethen too, though I admit Auum still eludes me. But he will perish trying to join a fight without ever realising he is siding with his enemies.’

‘Only you could pretend that the breaking of a siege laid very skilfully by me is a victory,’ said Weyamun. ‘You have cost me hundreds of men.’

‘They are weak and prey to another attack,’ said Ystormun, waving a hand dismissively. ‘And the elves are dispersed.’

‘Oh yes, we know that,’ snapped Giriamun. ‘My latest labourers and researchers heading for the Dawnthief site encountered some of your elves. I was with my host at the time. And how fascinating to see them, even so very briefly, in action with their oh-so-effective staff weapons. None of my party will be breaking the earth after that encounter.’

Ystormun smiled. ‘The Xeteskians will continue their work and we will take Dawnthief when we want it. You should not have wasted your forces so casually.’

‘The Xeteskians will not continue anything, at least not for the time being,’ said Giriamun. ‘Those elves were coming from the direction of the Dawnthief site. Bynaar assures us that since the elves were captured there he has lost all contact with his team. You can see what this means, I’m sure.’

Ystormun paused and not for the first time had to respect some of the elves he had encountered. Giriamun had described the Senserii’s weapons, which meant that Takaar was at the Manse and, knowing his fascination, probably working there. Ystormun was almost tempted to pay him a visit.

‘Nothing you have said undermines my position,’ said Ystormun. ‘And if you will hear me at the full cadre meeting later, I will apprise you of all I have achieved on our behalf, and of my current plans.’

Weyamun sneered. ‘Your words are meaningless, Ystormun. The cadre meeting will be very interesting but it has little to do with your plots and schemes. You can talk about them all you like. We, on the other hand, will be discussing your censure and removal from authority.’

‘That is not in your gift,’ snarled Ystormun. ‘Nor would you dare.’

‘Then come and watch us,’ said Giriamun. ‘There will be fine wine too.’

Ystormun watched them stalk away. No doubt they would rest in the knowledge of their imminent victory. But much could happen before nightfall. The days were very long here.

Stein sat and listened to Auum, as he seemed to have done a few times recently. There was something so compelling in the way he spoke. It was clear he had great wells of emotion inside, and his anger was cold and deadly, but everything he said came straight from his heart and he had no time for tact and diplomacy, no time for the niceties of others’ feelings.

This time Stein was sitting with Tilman, who was completely in awe of Auum and something of a miracle himself, being the only survivor of the cavalry contingent. Stein had termed it luck; Tilman had told him it was faith in the elves that had saved him. That didn’t make any sense, but if Tilman believed it, who was Stein to contradict him? Anyway, Stein was glad of his company, youthful and excited as it was; after all, he was the only other human here and Stein had tired of being the sole human on the voyage to Balaia.

The prayers for the dead had been protracted and emotional. Each fallen elf had been named and the lamentations had been long and tearful.

‘What’s he saying now?’ asked Tilman, whose elvish was decent but not capable of deciphering either prayers or lamentations.

‘Auum is inviting others to speak on behalf of the fallen. I don’t think anyone wishes to speak at this time. Normally, they’d do this at the reclamation ceremony, but they can’t hold one this time. No bodies, you see. That has hurt them.’

There was more prayer and then a short chant led by Ulysan. Auum drank water from a skin and began to speak again.

‘The death of every elf and Julatsan man today is on my head. I led you into a trap because I believed we had to fight with Xetesk. Instead they tried to kill us all. Remember that lesson, elves of Calaius. The men of Xetesk will betray you. Those men of Julatsa who stand with us will not. They died side by side with us, and those who sit with us are brothers who you will look to as you would any of your kin.

‘I do not deserve your trust after today, but if I have it, then I believe our path is clear at last. Will you trust me one more time?’

A chorus of assent ran around the elves. Auum nodded his blessings and thanks.

‘We were right to fight the Wytch Lords because I will not suffer them to set foot on Calaius ever again. Our mistake was to choose to fight alongside the armies of man. There is another way, and we must take it or we will all die in this soulless, godless land. Will you hear me?’

Every TaiGethen stood to pledge their faith and loyalty. The others were slightly less enthusiastic, but Stein couldn’t imagine a world in which they would choose to travel anywhere without their extraordinary warrior guard and its charismatic leader.

‘What does he mean?’ asked Tilman. ‘Why shouldn’t he fight with us?’

‘I think he means Xetesk, but it comes to the same thing. I’m more concerned about the other path he’s going to propose. Something he said a while ago. . I do hope he doesn’t act on it.’

Auum took a breath. ‘The Wesmen seek to destroy human magic. Their warriors have no love of the Wytch Lords’ power wielded by their shamen — ’ Stein went cold all over ‘- though they understand its necessity in defeating man just as I understand the necessity of elven magic in combat. What we face is an alliance of Xetesk and Wytch Lord power determined to destroy us along with Julatsa. We have to break that alliance and we will do it by turning the Wesmen away from the Wytch Lords. We will deprive the Wytch Lords of their army and the means to deliver their magic; once they are weakened they can be destroyed.

‘I won’t tell you this is going to be easy, because it isn’t. All the courage and faith that you have ever shown will be needed and will be tested further. It is hostile country and a hard climb over the mountains to get there. But if we stay here we will not survive. Xetesk is too powerful and its armies can not be turned.

‘Come with me. Walk with me and Yniss will walk with us.’ Auum paused. ‘But think first. Challenge me if you wish. We must be as one, on this mission, or we will all fail.’

There was a silence until Stein stood.

‘May I speak?’ he said.

Auum smiled. ‘You are our brother, so it is your right. And I’d have been disappointed if you didn’t have strong views.’

‘I just want you to understand the enormity of your plan. And I want to ask you: why not join an alliance of the other three colleges against Xetesk and the Wytch Lords?’

‘Because it won’t work,’ said Auum. ‘Remember Xetesk was not alone in failing to help you. No one came, and that surely means they are all in this conspiracy one way or another — at least until Xetesk chooses to cut them loose. Besides, do you really think such an alliance could take on both Xetesk and the Wytch Lords?’

‘We have to try, don’t we?’

Auum shook his head. ‘Julatsa needs to marshal all its strength just to survive. You wanted to tell us something else?’

‘You know nothing about the Wesmen or their country. They are a disparate tribal people. That the Wytch Lords have brought so many tribes together is impressive in itself, though I shudder to think of the threats and promises they will have made. You can cross the mountains right here — and you’ll understand why we built a tunnel when you do — but how will you find anyone? Who do you plan to speak to?

‘I don’t want to pour cold water on your plan, but you’re going in blind to try and persuade people you’ve already fought to turn against their incredibly powerful masters. You think humans are difficult to deal with? We are simple compared to the Wesmen. I’m sorry, Auum, but I can’t see how you can succeed.’

Auum spread his hands. ‘There is always a way. Surely not all the tribes have fallen under their control? Surely they all hate Xetesk with a passion we can share? Our own threads still bicker, much as their tribes will. We can use that, encourage them to dream of independence. We did, and we beat Ystormun.’

‘This is not just Ystormun. This is all of them, all six Wytch Lords, and it is their land. The powers they have the other side of those mountains are so much greater than anything you’ve seen here. You must understand the reality of where you are and of who and what you are up against.’

‘Those we seek, we find,’ Auum said simply. Stein could see that he didn’t grasp the difficulties.

‘Very well. Who are you seeking?’

Auum smiled. ‘That’s where you come in. Don’t pretend you have no information on Wesman allegiances and the locations of their tribes.’

Stein looked down at Tilman, who was staring at Auum as if he was a god walking the earth.

‘I thought I’d explained my doubts. Are you still so confident I’ll come with you?’

‘You can’t leave Tilman alone. Besides, I’m right: this is our only chance and you know it. If you ally with Lystern and Dordover you’ll bring Xetesk, the Wesmen and the Wytch Lords against you, and you’ll be swept away before them. My way gives us some hope — small, but we’ll have a chance.’ Auum gestured at Tilman. ‘I guarantee he’s coming with us. Where do you stand?’

Stein knew he had no choice. ‘I brought you here, Auum. I’ll stand by you until the day you leave.’

‘You are a good man, Stein, and there are precious few of you.’

‘We’ll have to agree to differ there. I know a whole host of good men and women.’

Auum shrugged and made to turn away. A new thought spun him back.

‘You can speak the Wesmen language, can’t you?’

‘It is among my skills, though it’s not to the same level as my elvish.’

‘Good.’ Auum smiled again, and this time there was genuine warmth and humour in it. ‘Because if you can’t we might have trouble getting our message across.’

Sipharec was sleeping, but Kerela couldn’t rest with all she had heard bubbling inside her. It wasn’t late so she walked through the college to the library, knowing who she would find there, absorbing knowledge as he had done all his life.

The library was vast, built on three levels with books and parchments on shelves to all four sides. During the day light came in through great glass panes set in the roof and each night lanterns were set on each of twenty reading tables, casting enough illumination to read by in comfort.

It reeked of history, and Kerela, like so many of those allowed access, spent more time here than anywhere else, often just staring at the accumulated wisdom on show. The only discordant note were the stacks of crates by the rear entrance hall, ready to store the priceless works should the city walls fall.

Harild was sitting in a leather reading chair, a clay flask of wine and a full goblet on a table next to him. He looked younger, Kerela thought, as if the recent combat had allowed him to taste his youth again and the flavour yet lingered.

‘May I disturb you?’ she asked, her voice a whisper though they were the only two in the cavernous building. She put her hands on the back of a chair opposite him. ‘I wouldn’t ask, but I have news I can scarcely believe and I must speak to someone.’

Harild was known to hate interruption when he was reading in the evenings, but when he raised his head from the book, a work on the economics of magical research if Kerela recognised the script, his face was soft with a smile.

‘Please sit, Kerela. No elf can ever be considered an intrusion.’

Kerela smiled though her heart was heavy with Stein’s report. She pulled out the chair and sat down. Harild gestured to the wine and she shook her head.

‘I see I have something else to thank Auum for,’ she said.

Harild’s ambivalence towards the elves in his college and city was well known, but it had thawed almost to the point of gushing during the few days of fighting.

‘I am a soldier and I needed another soldier to fully reveal the strength of the elven heart. My apologies that it took me so long to see your true colours. I’m proud you are part of this college.’

Kerela blushed.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she managed.

Harild cleared his throat and his voice returned to a measure of its usual gruffness.

‘Tell me what you’ve heard and who from. Leave nothing out.’

Kerela recounted her Communion with Stein. Harild did not interrupt, but as the news unfolded he closed his book and sat back, his eyes occasionally seeming to mist up. He placed his hands on the table, and every now and then they tightened on the edge, whitening his knuckles before he forced himself to relax.

Kerela watched Harild’s face first go grey and then age ten years before clearing and tautening. She could see him working through possibilities and plans and coming to the same conclusions she had. When she was done she found she was shaking and reached across to Harild’s goblet. She took a long swallow. He nodded and was silent for a while.

‘When will Sipharec be available to discuss this?’ he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

‘He’s exhausted,’ said Kerela. ‘I think he’s sicker than he’s admitting. We can’t afford to wait. There are some things we can’t make decisions about without the whole council, but you’re in charge of the army. What should we do?’

‘It is sadly evident that this whole conflict has ceased to be about defeating the Wytch Lords and has become a race for Dawnthief. I have no doubt that any alliance with Xetesk is only ever temporary, but to hope it fails before we are attacked again is naive in the extreme.’

Harild paused and refilled his goblet. He offered it to Kerela, who shook her head. He drained it and refilled it again.

‘One is enough.’

‘Good though, isn’t it?’

‘Very,’ she said.

‘We already have scouts and lookouts watching the sea for Wesman ships. There is little more we can do there, and we do not have enough men to launch attacks on any approaching invasion force. So we have to concentrate on our defences, as we already are, and on one other area.

‘We must make the Septern Manse ours. We should send a large force of soldiers and mages there; seed the place with more wards than we’ve ever laid; make sure that any force that comes to take it pays the highest of prices. And while we’re there, work to solve this magical riddle for ourselves.’

Kerela felt her pulse quicken. ‘You’re suggesting triggering conflict at the Manse.’

‘It has already been triggered. We know Xetesk’s true leanings, and they know that we know. Do you think they won’t move to reinforce their position? We have to get there first, clear out whoever’s there and make it ours. Ownership of that place is key to this fight right now.’

‘Doesn’t it weaken us here? We have to protect our city and people.’

‘And what better way than diverting enemy forces elsewhere? Look, we know Xetesk has murdered our team there and probably Lystern’s too. Dordover wasn’t even represented because of its foolish trust in Xetesk. We can retake it if we act now. Call a council meeting, make the decision. And remember, we can always recall our forces.’

Kerela found herself excited at the prospect of action.

‘I’ll call the meeting. At least we won’t be sitting inside our walls wondering when the end will come; we’ll be out there taunting it.’

‘That’s the spirit, and there’s more to discuss. Let me find you a goblet and we’ll finish this flask together, eh?’