Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 30

‘How far to Sky Lake?’ asked Auum.

They had descended the precipice without further incident and Auum had led long and passionate prayers of thanks for their deliverance to Yniss, Gyal and Ix. It felt wonderfully warm and calm at the base of the mountains. Auum had stared up at the snow plain where they had stood so recently, wondering what madness had led him to think it had been a good plan.

Yet here they were: depleted, drained and hungry but very much back in control. They were hidden from enemy eyes by the jagged rock formations that surrounded them, and while rocks were gathered to be heated for a thin stew made from everything they had left, most of the elves were lying down wherever they could find a spot. Auum didn’t blame them one bit.

‘At your pace, less than two days. But Tilman can’t fly so we should make whatever progress we can this afternoon and expect to get there late the day after tomorrow. Some of yours might need a good rest now too.’

Auum glared at the trio of Il-Aryn who had so nearly cost Merrat his life. Overconfident, they had been messing about, sliding and braking until one of them had done it once too often. Rith had dismissed it as simple over-exuberance and the row that had ensued had set birds to flight.

‘They’ll move when I say. Apparently they have no shortage of energy to burn.’

‘They almost died,’ said Stein. ‘I know it was their fault but-’

‘So did Merrat. I will not mother them, Stein. Do you see him whining?’

Merrat was sitting with Ulysan, explaining the finer points of ice skating, or so it appeared. Ulysan was smiling again, though his eyes were still haunted. Perhaps he had something to thank those idiots for after all.

‘The TaiGethen are a different breed,’ said Stein.

‘Yes, we are cursed with honour.’

‘I. . oh.’ Stein blew out his cheeks and put a hand out to steady himself. ‘It’s-’

Auum grabbed him and helped him sit. ‘Are you all right?’

Stein nodded. ‘Communion. Wait.’

Auum watched, moving away a couple of paces, uncomfortable with the weight of magic he could feel emanating from his friend. Stein’s eyes closed but beneath his lids moved as if searching for something. His mouth moved too but no sound came. He frowned, the colour leaving his face, and he bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He swallowed and his face hardened. His body relaxed and he opened his eyes, the contact broken.

‘So?’

Stein looked up at him, taking a moment to focus his eyes and his thoughts.

‘It’s bleak news,’ he said and Auum’s heart fell. ‘The Wesmen have landed in large numbers north of Julatsa and are marching to lay siege to the city. It’s a similar picture in the south though we assume Xetesk won’t be beset — mind you, this might be the Wytch Lord’s gambit.’

‘Not yet,’ said Auum. ‘They still need Xetesk to prevent the other colleges from uniting.’

‘There’s something else, and I’m not sure if this is good news or bad. Apparently, Takaar reappeared in Julatsa. He knows our intentions and is planning on joining us.’

Auum stared up at the mountains. ‘Not if he comes that way.’

‘You really want him back?’

‘Not him but his power. Think what it will add to ours.’

‘So long as he directs it as he needs to.’

‘Put it this way: he’s always managed to save himself when the need arises,’ said Auum. He smiled and felt guilty for it. ‘He’s not going to go quietly, is he?’

‘No. But there is some good news — for you anyway. Kerela reported that Takaar was at Septern Manse. The Julatsan team are dead as we feared but Takaar and the Senserii took out the Xeteskians and the place is now empty. He says Dawnthief isn’t there and can’t be found; it’s hidden in another dimension. He says we’re all wasting our time.’

‘So why are we still fighting?’

‘Because no one in Xetesk or Parve will believe him.’

Lord Sentaya of the Paleon tribes was sparring with his youngest son when he was called. He beckoned the eight-year-old to him, knelt and embraced him.

‘You’re progressing well. Remember to keep your guard up and watch your opponent’s body as well as his eyes.’

‘I don’t have that many eyes,’ said Arayan.

Sentaya laughed.

‘But you will, and then you will be unbeatable like me.’ He took his son’s weapon with his and laid both wooden blades against the frame of his door. ‘Now go and tell your mother you’ve earned a grain cake. And take a drink.’

‘Wine?’

‘Water. . with maybe a splash of red. I’ll check so don’t say I said otherwise.’

The boy ran off and Sentaya felt a burst of pride. Blessed with three sons, all fit and healthy: two working the fields and commanding warriors and one who would be the best of them, even Sentaya himself. He stretched and looked to the sun, seeing it fading towards evening. He should be relaxing with his family; this was no time for business.

Sentaya growled and walked round the side of his house. The central oval around which the village was built was still busy with life. The smells of cooking and smoke drifted across him, setting his stomach to rumble in appreciation. There in front of his house stood a shepherd boy with his elder shaman, Gyarth.

‘You know I hate to be disturbed when I am training my son, Gyarth.’

‘My apologies, Lord Sentaya,’ said Gyarth, bowing and helping the shepherd do the same. ‘But this youth has news.’

‘Does he have a name?’

Gyarth prodded him in the back. ‘Speak.’

‘I am Tiral, my lord.’

Sentaya smiled. ‘Atalun’s boy, good. Raise your head, lad, you need not fear me.’

Tiral looked up. ‘Thank you, my lord. There are people approaching the village.’

Sentaya tensed. ‘People? How many?’

‘I counted more than a hundred. They were a way away from me so I could be wrong.’

‘Are they Wes?’

Tiral shook his head. ‘No. I thought they must be eastern men but they don’t move like them.’

‘Make yourself clear,’ said Sentaya sharply, making the boy jump.

‘They. . they have more. . um, grace. Like their feet kiss the ground rather than stamp it ugly like the easterners do. They’ll be here before nightfall.’

Sentaya didn’t understand what the boy meant but it hardly mattered. He turned to Gyarth.

‘Is the fleet in?’

‘Most are beached; some are still out.’

‘Get them in and get everyone armed. We’ll meet these. . people outside the village. Get word to my sons. Have them stand defence. Thank you, boy, you have done me great service. Now go home and stay there. Send your father to me.’

The boy ran off.

‘Are you sure he knows what he saw?’ asked Sentaya.

‘His story is unchanged though it makes no sense. Easterners who don’t walk like easterners?’ said Gyarth. ‘Shall I gather my shamen?’

‘How many are here?’

‘Three. Most are spreading the word of our impending entry into the great battle.’

Sentaya sniffed. ‘Should it ever come to pass.’

‘One should not question the Wytch Lords.’

‘I am Sentaya. I will never bend the knee. Leave your shamen to their tasks. Should we be attacked, you know what to do.’

When Sentaya saw the small force approaching he understood exactly what Tiral had meant. They moved as if they were part of the land on which they walked. It was hypnotic and, yes, graceful. He was backed by sixty of his warriors, all fresh off the boats from Sky Lake and angry that their bellies would not be filled for the time being. Gyarth was with him and Sentaya wished he wasn’t. He was too quick of tongue, too far under the Wytch Lords’ influence. Sentaya feared being undermined and he had warned Gyarth to keep his mouth shut.

Sentaya stood front and centre of his warriors, his arms across his chest, his cloak about his shoulders and his decorated leather breastplate secured over his clothes and furs. His shaven head was uncovered because he would not hide his face from anyone.

The strangers slowed as they approached, the failing light obscuring their features until they had come close, though they made it obvious they had no weapons in hand. Most were dressed in leather and cloth; some, the most graceful, were plainly warriors but he could not be sure about the others.

Sentaya stiffened as they resolved fully out of the gathering gloom. Walking in the centre was a man, without question a mage and therefore an enemy. But those around him gave him pause and he would not signal an attack yet. They had strange-shaped ears and eyes. Their faces were hard and cruel and their presence reeked of danger. Word had spread about these people. They had broken the siege at Julatsa. They were elves from a land far to the south, warriors to be respected and feared.

‘Draw no blade,’ ordered Sentaya. ‘I do not believe they are here to fight us.’

Wesman hands moved from weapon hafts and an elf walking next to the mage nodded.

‘An unwise strategy,’ said Gyarth. ‘These creatures are responsible for the deaths of Gorsu, Hafeez and many shamen and warriors.’

‘You are not giving me reason to hate them. This is a war. I have lost rivals; you have lost dark strength, and I remain free. Perhaps I should be embracing them.’

‘You cannot refuse the Wytch Lords for ever.’

‘That is yet to be proven. I will speak with their leaders.’ He regarded Gyarth, puffed up as he was with his own self-importance and borrowed power. ‘Alone.’

Sentaya carried the satisfying image of Gyarth’s rage with him when he walked forward. The mage and the elf detached themselves from the group and came to meet him. The elves fascinated him, at once so alien in appearance but so at home with the land, as if they were bonded to it. He chose not to begin in aggressive tones. A formal approach to the strangers was appropriate.

‘I am Sentaya, lord of the Paleon tribes. These are my lands.’

‘The men of Balaia know you and respect your strength in battle and your right to live free on your lands.’

It was the mage who spoke, and his dialect, if heavily accented, was accurate enough.

‘Then you may speak. Those who come to challenge me die here. Those who seek trade leave satisfied. Which are you?’

The mage spoke to the elf in a curious language Sentaya could not follow at all. It was a brief exchange and the mage turned back.

‘My apologies, Lord Sentaya. My brother, Auum of the TaiGethen, cannot speak your language and I must relate to him what is being said. I am Stein, mage of Julatsa. I know I am your enemy but I ask that you hear us. Auum has a proposal. It is for your ears only.’

Stein’s eyes flicked briefly to Gyarth standing behind him. He nodded and turned to his warriors.

‘Bring fire and food. . bread and fresh meat too. Slaughter a cow. Our guests may not enter the village but that is no reason for them to starve. I will hear what they have to say before deciding their fate. No respected warrior should face death on an empty stomach, should I decide they die. You will guard me. Gyarth, with respect, you must return to the village. Your duties await you.’

‘And should the creatures rise up and strike you while your warriors stand guard, unable to assist you, who will save you?’

Sentaya faced down Gyarth’s humiliation and fury. ‘They have not come here to kill me.’

‘You are staking your life on that assumption.’

‘I am staking all our lives on it.’

Sentaya turned away from his shaman, a smile on his face. He was aware Gyarth could kill him instantly but knew that he would not because his masters needed Sentaya and all the warriors at his command when the invasion through the pass was ordered.

‘Sit,’ said Sentaya. ‘Fire and food will be brought. The rest of you must retreat to a distance equal to my own warriors. That is the condition of my parley.’

‘Most acceptable,’ said Stein.

He spoke briefly to Auum, who issued a simple command. His elves trotted away without a backward glance. Auum was a true leader, commanding trust and respect. He stood until Sentaya sat, then did so himself. He was deferential too. Sentaya inclined his head in welcome and the gesture was returned.

‘Tell me,’ said Sentaya, studying Stein and seeing in him an honesty he had not expected of any mage, although his magic remained repulsive. ‘How did you get here? By boat, I presume, since the pass is closed.’

‘We came across the mountains,’ said Stein and, reacting to Sentaya’s expression of surprise, added, ‘The elves are particularly determined as well as keen climbers. Even so, we lost friends on the crossing.’

Auum placed his hand on Stein’s arm and Stein related his words.

‘Auum says this: it was not our choice. We were betrayed by those we sought to join in a war against you. Now we seek to join you in a war against our shared enemy.’

‘Really?’ said Sentaya, steepling his hands beneath his chin. ‘And who is this shared enemy?’

‘The Wytch Lords.’

Sentaya glanced over his shoulder to check Gyarth was gone. He saw some of his warriors approaching, carrying torches and pulling two handcarts. One was piled with wood, the other carried food and wine. Another warrior was leading a cow.

‘You’re so sure they are my enemy?’

Stein spoke at length then, pausing whenever a warrior laying fire or food could hear him. Mostly he related Auum’s words but added his own colour. Sentaya found himself amused at some of the things Stein was compelled to say on behalf of his elven brother.

Sentaya heard about Dawnthief, the alliance and the treachery of Xetesk and the Wytch Lords. He heard of the elven warrior’s personal distrust of magic, and in that they were truly kindred spirits. Auum spoke of the future, should human magic be destroyed and the Wytch Lords have no rivals in power. He painted a picture of desolation and slavery, such as the elves had already suffered at their hands. Auum’s was a compelling story and his desires matched Sentaya’s own for the most part even though his vision of the world beyond this war left Sentaya dissatisfied. But still the Wesman lord smiled when he spoke to Stein and he was becoming used to the pauses in conversation while Stein translated for Auum.

‘He is your brother yet he despises your magic almost as much as I do. It must have taken some effort to speak his words.’

Stein’s eyes sparkled with humour, and Sentaya surprised himself by feeling a vestige of warmth towards the mage.

‘Auum wishes there was no magic, and I can understand his point of view though naturally I disagree with it. But he can see certain of its benefits and would admit it has saved his life on more than one occasion. That is his dilemma.’

‘One I don’t suffer. Auum’s solution destroys the Wytch Lords and their magic but it leaves yours to blossom. That does not serve me. Make me see otherwise.’

Stein shrugged.

‘There is no perfect solution. You desire our destruction and, as a result, we desire yours. The truth is that neither state will ever be achieved and we will eventually battle ourselves to a standstill. Our problem is here and now. Should the Wytch Lords win, they will dominate all who survive, and none of us wants that. Can we agree on that point?’

‘We can,’ said Sentaya.

His warriors had laid out bread and dried meat and a fire was blazing to his right. Racks were placed across it, the now-slaughtered cow was efficiently butchered, and large joints were spiked and laid on the racks to cook. The aromas were glorious and tempting; blood and fat spat on the flames.

‘Similarly, should Xetesk win this fight then it is they who will dominate and that is similarly unwelcome.’ Sentaya nodded and gestured for Stein to continue. ‘The current situation, with Xetesk and the Wytch Lords using the Wesmen to destroy the other colleges, will inevitably lead to one of these outcomes. Surely it is better to have four magical colleges, each one acting as a deterrent to the others? That leaves you without your ultimate victory but it does leave you free to be lord of your lands without the fist of the Wytch Lords over you.

‘It is the best of the options, and it is why we want you to turn against the Wytch Lords and help us defeat them.’

Sentaya sighed. He took a hunk of bread and a clay mug of wine and tried to pull apart Stein’s logic while he ate. The mage and the elf had spoken good sense but their conclusions left him unhappy and, with his last swallow of wine, he knew why.

‘How will you destroy the Wytch Lords?’ he asked. ‘Are they not invulnerable?’

Stein had been expecting this question and spoke quickly to Auum, who deferred to him and asked Stein to speak for them all.

‘I will not lie to you, Lord Sentaya. Though we are enemies, I have the greatest respect for you and I hope that is returned in some measure.’

‘In some small measure,’ agreed Sentaya, and he knew beyond doubt he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

‘The Wytch Lords cannot be destroyed; they can only be trapped in a place where they have no power. To achieve this requires powerful magic. We must draw one of them out and trap him, thereby critically weakening the strength of all six. Only then can we hope to defeat them. Auum believes that Ystormun’s hatred of him stemming from his defeat by him in the elven homeland will be enough to bring him here should you stand with us, challenging his authority.’

Auum smiled. Sentaya dropped his food, leaned forward and grabbed Auum’s collar, pulling him close and hissing into his face.

‘You would bring death to all my people by inviting a Wytch Lord to my village? That is madness so bold I should slit your throat for speaking it. Tell me this is not your plan.’

Just as he had not dodged Sentaya’s hands, so Auum did not resist but waited until he was pushed away. He and Stein had a quick conversation and Auum deferred to Stein again.

‘Think, my lord,’ said Stein. ‘You will have issued a challenge to the Wytch Lords simply by speaking with us, and they will respond in a way that tells your people two things: that they respect your influence and that they fear you, Sentaya. You.

‘So tell your people that Ystormun will come because he is afraid of the lord of the Paleon tribes and has been forced from his hiding place to fight. We will stand by you. Our magic will take his unholy power, and you can strike at his dark heart and eat his soul.

‘And when you have defeated him, you will be the lord whose banner the free Wesmen flock to. You will rule the Wesmen.’

Sentaya took in Stein’s words and there was sense in them despite the enormous risk — supposing this Auum could actually be believed and Ystormun would come to him. But should it be true and they were victorious? The cloak of lord of the Wesmen would sit well on his shoulders. A fierce smile grew on his face, but doubt remained and he looked Stein deep in the eyes.

‘Should he come, can we beat him?’

‘Yes, we can,’ said Stein, translating for Auum. ‘My ancestor did it before and we can do it again. He is alone. You will have set the trap, my lord, and he will walk into its jaws.’

Sentaya nodded. ‘Many of my people will die.’

‘Many of ours too,’ Stein repeated Auum’s words. ‘But we will not flinch from it. You consider us enemies but we will fight as brothers. Trust us and for this moment trust our magic and what it can do to defeat our common enemy.’

Sentaya’s disgust and anger had given way to a controlled excitement. He looked again at Auum and his regard for the elf grew further, though he was confused. Something Stein had said earlier just didn’t make sense

‘Surely it is ages past that Ystormun was defeated. It is ancient lore that the shamen speak when they are relating the rise to power of the cadre. Yet you said Auum defeated him.’

Stein nodded. ‘The elves are very long-lived. Auum is more than three thousand years old.’

Sentaya gasped as he stared at the elf.

‘But he looks no older than me,’ he hissed. ‘How can that be?’

‘It is a gift of their gods to be so. Auum was there when Ystormun was defeated — as was my ancestor.’

Sentaya felt as if he was reeling, so many were the revelations.

‘Then your bloodline is spoken of in my legends,’ said Sentaya.

‘Will you join us? I know what my ancestor did. I know what Auum can do. We can beat them if we stand together.’

Sentaya wagged a finger, his mind clearing of distractions.

‘You’re clever, Stein, and I’m tempted, but I can see further than your words. Your magic can defeat Ystormun — I will believe you for now — but whose magic can trap them beyond the ability to strike back?’

Stein nodded gravely. ‘That ability rests with Xetesk. They must be informed of our intentions.’

Sentaya spat on the ground and stood up. Auum glared at Stein, who made a placatory gesture. Sentaya was not about to wait for him to translate what had just been said.

‘And now we reach the truth. You would have me fracture the fragile unity of the Wesman tribes and at the same time aid you in bringing a Xeteskian army to my lands to destroy the only power able to defend us against the filth of your magic. You want me to lay my country open to whoever would take it from me. That is why I despise magic and that is why you will ever be my enemy!’

‘You have me wrong,’ said Stein.

‘I don’t think so. Warriors!’

Wesmen all around him drew axes and blades. Instantly, the elves were on their feet. Mages began to prepare and the TaiGethen drew twin blades from scabbards on their backs. The menace emanating from them washed over Sentaya, and he was damned if it didn’t make the fire flicker and the beef spit.

Auum stood and barked out a command, holding out one hand towards his people, the other towards Sentaya. The elves sheathed their blades though it hardly lessened their sense of readiness. Auum appeared in front of Sentaya so quickly, he backed away a pace. Auum spoke, and Stein, remarkably calm and assured, cleared his throat.

‘Sentaya, please. You’re making a mistake. We have no wish to fight you. Will you hear Auum through me?’

Sentaya stared at Auum, who stood impassive before him. He gave a curt nod. Auum began to speak and Stein translated.

‘No Xeteskian army will destroy your people and occupy your lands. Julatsa, Lystern and Dordover will fight against them. So shall I and my people. Trust me. We share so much. We have suffered under the boots of the same enemies. We must not become enemies. Trust the elves.’

Sentaya’s ire was blunted a little but he could not yet begin to agree to what they desired of him. He waved for his people to lower their blades.

‘Even if it goes according to your plan, the easterners will have their magic and we will have no defence against it. We will always be vulnerable to their whim.’

‘The elves had no magic when man invaded Calaius and enslaved my people, occupied my lands. Yet we destroyed an army of six thousand warriors and mages. We used our land as you will have to use yours. I will tell you how. I will not leave you defenceless, that is my vow.’

‘You I trust, but I cannot trust him or his magic.’ Sentaya sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. So much sense, so much he wanted to believe but so much danger too. He would be gambling with the entire Wesman race. ‘Enough. We will not fight. We will eat instead, although we will not sit at the same table.’

Stein nodded. ‘Thank you, Lord Sentaya.’

Sentaya turned his back on Stein only to see Gyarth striding towards him, a look of cold contempt on his face.

‘You remain uninvited,’ said Sentaya. ‘We are not done yet.’

‘Yes, you are,’ said Gyarth.

Sentaya tensed, gripping his axe more tightly. ‘What have you done?’

‘I have spoken to the cadre.’

‘How dare you undermine my authority! I am lord of these tribes.’

Gyarth sneered. ‘There has been a shift in power. A long-overdue one. They have put up with you for too long, Sentaya, and now an army is coming to drag you before them to bend your knee or be destroyed along with these creatures. They will be here in three days.’

‘Traitor!’

Sentaya raised his axe and chopped it through Gyarth’s neck. The shaman’s head rocked back and fell from his shoulders, taking with it Gyarth’s dying expression of outrage. The body collapsed to the side. Sentaya threw the weapon to the ground next to the headless corpse. He stared at Auum.

‘It looks as if I am with you whether I like it or not.’