Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 27

Kerela was scared and she was tired but she knew there would be precious little sleep for her. Sipharec was dying and his passing would make her high mage, a position for which she suddenly felt herself entirely inadequate. She knew she would have the support of Harild and that meant a great deal, but her first task, should Sipharec pass during the night, would be to preside over a war with Xetesk and the Wytch Lords.

She shuddered as she entered her rooms. The great balcony doors had been left open and the curtains were blowing in the chill night air. It was somehow fitting, the cold matching her mood. Sipharec. . who would have thought it?

Not a cancer, which is what he had assumed, but a failure of his heart and liver. As if they’d had enough and were shutting down. There was nothing magic could do but ease the pain. The poor man was so angry and bitter he would not see his job through that he had not left his rooms since he had fallen ill just a few days ago.

Kerela’s mind was tumbling with anxiety so much that she failed to notice the figure sitting on the end of her bed until she had closed the doors and turned back into the room. She stifled a cry and placed a hand on her thudding heart, relaxing when she saw who it was.

‘Most people make an appointment,’ she said. ‘How did you get in here? You’re exiled.’

‘No ward or wall can keep me from where I must be,’ said Takaar. ‘And I must be here.’

He was filthy from the trail, his hair unkempt and with dirt staining his clothes and face. He had a hollow look in his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days and a pinch to his cheeks told of a lack of food. But those eyes were alive with his madness barely in check, and Kerela was acutely aware of how dangerous he could be.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked.

He smiled, and his voice dropped to a whisper so quiet she had to lean in to hear him.

‘I have been to the Septern Manse.’

The smile on his face was childlike. Kerela gasped and sat down on the bed next to him.

‘What did you see? Tell me, were our team there?’

Takaar shook his head and Kerela sagged, though she had known in her heart that they’d been killed. Friends of hers, people beloved by the college, had been in that party — peaceful people, talented people.

‘Only Xeteskians were there. And fighters with masks, strong and quick but dark of soul.’

‘Protectors,’ breathed Kerela. ‘They sent Protectors. We never stood a chance.’

‘There is no one there now.’ Takaar smiled but there was no glory in his tone when he spoke his next words. ‘Because I am a better mage than they and the Senserii are better fighters.’

Kerela knew she shouldn’t but she hugged Takaar. He tensed and she let him go at once but couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

‘I shouldn’t feel good that they are dead but I can’t help it,’ she said.

Takaar shrugged. ‘They killed your people and you are an elf. Never be ashamed of your heritage.’

‘Harild will be delighted. He’s sent a force down there to take the Manse and make it ours.’

Takaar hadn’t appeared to be listening but he frowned. ‘Why?’

‘So that when this is done, Julatsa can own Dawnthief.’

Takaar was distracted, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them as wide as he could and staring around the room.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ said Takaar. ‘You should call them back. No one will ever secure Dawnthief.’

‘That’s some statement,’ said Kerela, suppressing a laugh. ‘How do you know?’

Takaar stared at her as if she was stupid.

‘Because I am a better mage.’

‘You’re going to have to offer more than that if I’m to change our agreed defence tactics.’

‘I know what you told me,’ said Takaar after a pause. He looked to his right. ‘She’ll understand. Eventually, they all understand.’

Kerela felt a frisson of nerves. This was the first time she’d seen him engage with his other self, and it was deeply unsettling. She waited, not knowing what else to do and being reluctant to interrupt. She became acutely aware of her vulnerability. No one knew he was here and she was alone with him, the elf who had turned Drech’s head to ash.

‘Don’t press me!’ Takaar snapped. Kerela jumped and moved a little further away along the edge of the bed. Takaar turned a terribly fragile smile on her. ‘I’m sorry, I startled you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, her heart thundering in her chest.

‘See what you’ve done,’ hissed Takaar.

Kerela took in a long trembling breath. ‘I don’t think-’

Takaar’s hand shot out and took hers. His grip was gentle though his fingers and palms were rough with dirt and scratches.

‘You must hear this,’ said Takaar. ‘Before I. . Anyway you must hear this. Dawnthief isn’t at Septern Manse. It isn’t anywhere in the Balaian dimension.’

‘Dimension?’ Kerela knew the history of the elves and Takaar’s discovery on Hausolis, but the theory had always confused her and she had left its study to others in the college. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course,’ said Takaar dismissively. ‘I can sense the place where it must be held, where the secrets are kept. I can even draw the doorway in the mud of the manse ruins, but I cannot open it.’

‘How can you be sure that no one can just because you can’t?’

It was a dangerous question, and Kerela regretted it the moment she asked, but Takaar merely favoured her with a patronising smile. He patted her hand and withdrew his to itch at his right forearm, which was already red and scraped from his scratching.

‘It is closed against all those without his talents. I can read the energies even though I can’t unpick them to work the lock. He understood all four of your magics, didn’t he?’

‘That’s what he always claimed. His was a boundless ego.’

‘A boundless talent,’ said Takaar. ‘Don’t belittle what he knew.’

Kerela felt Takaar tense and she swallowed hard, feeling herself begin to shiver.

‘I don’t. But he was never shy of telling us how great he was.’

Takaar stared at her, his expression bleak. ‘And you should have listened. Maybe then he would be alive, and I could speak with him and we could do the great things together.’

‘I don’t-’

Takaar stood and marched across the room to the fireplace, which needed more fuel before the embers cooled. He rubbed his hands across his face, but when he turned back the fury she feared was not evident and instead there was a broad smile on his face.

‘He may not be dead!’

Kerela blinked. Everyone had seen the manse. No one could have survived the conflagration. Takaar rushed back across the room, and for a moment Kerela thought he was going to drag her into an embrace but he stopped short. His eyes were alive with possibilities and his hands were shaking as he gesticulated.

‘Think! He has hidden the spell in a chamber placed in another dimension. Why would he not hide there himself when his enemies closed around him? He could open doors to other places. Who knows where he is now, laughing at your pathetic attempts to find his secrets. Ha! And until humans find another mage who understands the magics of all four colleges as he does, they’ll never even open the door!’

Kerela felt exhausted all over again by Takaar’s sudden energy, but she could not deny his excitement was contagious and what he was saying had a certain logic to it. But there was a major flaw in his hopes.

‘There is no such person,’ she said. ‘There never will be. Not unless Septern left instructions somewhere, to act as a key.’

Takaar snorted. ‘Why would he do that? He has taken such care to remove himself from those he thinks unworthy of his secrets, why would he leave a key on a hook for anyone to find?’

‘It wouldn’t be a key in that sense,’ said Kerela.

Takaar rolled his eyes. ‘I know. You don’t understand. It is a challenge, and only the mage who can solve the problem is worthy of his secrets. And it will be an elf who does it because we have the time that humans do not.’

Takaar wandered back into the centre of the room, muttering to his other self. Kerela shouldn’t have been so confident in his words but there seemed no doubt he was right. Truth be told, he almost always was. Kerela rose from the bed and moved slowly towards him, desiring to hear what he was saying.

‘. . could do it. Why not me? Is the study of human magic so different? I am an immortal and dare I say it, a genius. . You don’t agree? Well, that comes as no surprise, but I must start now. Here in the library. It’s a new challenge.’

Kerela reached out a hand but snatched it back when he snapped his head round in her direction. His eyes looked straight through her. He sagged visibly and half fell into a chair, tears on his cheeks.

‘There is always another task to perform and it must be me, mustn’t it. .? You’re right — only I can do this — but more than that, only then will I have the time, the peace to do my work here.’

Takaar stared up at Kerela and there was such sadness in his face that she almost burst into tears herself.

‘The great risk is that I will not come back and then both his and my secrets will be lost for ever. The choice I make is the hero’s choice.’

It was a moment before Kerela realised he was addressing her directly.

‘I’m sorry, Takaar, I’m not following you.’

‘Dawnthief must wait. The Wytch Lords must be defeated.’ He sighed, and his head dropped to his chest. His fingers fidgeted with the ties on his jacket. ‘Where is Auum?’

The change of subject threw Kerela for a moment. She sat in a chair opposite him and poured two goblets of wine from the jug on the table between them. She took hers and drained it in one. Takaar did not raise his head.

‘Auum went to join the fight at Understone Pass. He took the Il-Aryn and some of our mages with him. They were ambushed by Xeteskians and have fled into the mountains. Auum knows the Wytch Lords and Xetesk are in alliance and he is seeking out tribal Wesman lords in order to turn them against the Wytch Lords. It’s a desperate gambit if you ask me, but he’s right that if their alliance holds, they’ll sweep us away.’

Takaar was nodding.

‘He hates magic that much he seeks to befriend others who share his view.’ Takaar raised his head and his eyes sparkled. ‘But he’s underestimating the hold the Wytch Lords have on the shamen. He never spoke to Garan, you see. So he doesn’t know what creatures like Ystormun are capable of deep in their shrivelled souls.’

‘His plan could work,’ said Kerela.

‘But not in the way he expects. I must find him.’

‘I can help you there,’ said Kerela. ‘I am in contact with Stein.’

Takaar shook his head, and his eyes lost their sparkle as his mind closed around him once more.

‘No. I know a way and I will bring all the help I need. Tell him I will find him. Tell him he must hold on. He cannot do this without us.’

‘Us?’

Rith gathered her Il-Aryn in a tight huddle. Auum could see their distress. It was difficult for some of them to stand and every one of them shivered so hard it was unpleasant to watch. But he was no better. His teeth knocked together, his hands thrust inside his jacket would not be able to grip a sword, and he only knew his feet were still there because he stamped them hard on the ground while his strength ebbed away, stolen by the cold.

When the huddle was done, most of the Il-Aryn moved away and sat once more, their bodies twined together. Eight remained standing. Rith blew out her cheeks and looked at Auum.

‘Here we go,’ she said. ‘Pray for us.’

Auum nodded. ‘Yniss will hear you and Ix will grant you energy. You will succeed because you are who you are. I believe in you.’

Auum felt his pulse in his throat and he stilled to watch the Il-Aryn. Every eye was on them and prayers were being spoken. Whatever it was they were doing, everyone knew it represented their last chance. They were standing in a circle facing each other, their arms about each other’s waists or shoulders, keeping them tight, keeping them a degree warmer. The preparations seemed to go on for ever. The snow swept under the overhang and the wind howled around the wall, accelerating the drop in temperature.

The sudden quiet took a heartbeat to register. The last snowflakes settled gently, no longer driven by the gale, which was muted, venting its fury against the barrier the Il-Aryn had built. The relief was extraordinary. Auum watched the faces of the elves begin to soften, luxuriating in the calm within. Stein, his mouth gaping comically, pushed his hands against the barrier, which glowed and pulsed a pale blue.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘This is not a mana construct.’

Rith was smiling. ‘It’s just air, but we have made it solid. It’s like the barrier against the Wytch Lords, except it need only deflect natural elements so we have stopped the movement of the air and expelled the moisture within it.’

‘I can work with this,’ said Stein. ‘My mages can warm this shell. This makes it worth investing heat in the stone beneath us. And we should bring loose rocks to pile up wherever we have the space and warm them too. How long can you keep this up?’

‘I have fifty adepts,’ said Rith. ‘If you can warm us, let us conserve our energy, eat and sleep, we can rotate. Then we can keep this up for ever.’

‘But if you’ll allow me, you need to make a small adjustment,’ said Stein. Rith bridled but said nothing. ‘We need ventilation or we will suffocate, and we need to dry out too. Without any vents all that moisture will hang in the air. And you will need someone on hand to create an opening for those who need to go out for. . you know.’

Rith’s expression softened and she smiled.

‘We can do that.’

‘This magic,’ said Ulysan. ‘Bloody rubbish, isn’t it?’

Auum said nothing. There was nothing to say. He was still shivering and soaked but he watched the Julatsan elves begin to lay castings in the stone and on the inside wall of the barrier. Blessed warmth began to grow. He touched the barrier with his fingertips. Without it they would all have died. Magic had saved them all, it had saved him.

Auum caught Rith’s eye and inclined his head in silent apology.