Beyond the Mists of Katura

Chapter 38

Takaar lay on his back. The Senserii had made him comfortable, but in truth he could feel very little. He thought his back was broken. Either that or the shock of the impact had entirely numbed his body. He smiled up at the sky, and Auum’s words played over in his mind. He heard a chuckle.

You’re dying.

‘Yes,’ said Takaar.

Then I got what I always wanted.

‘So did I. And at last we can be one again. Let us walk with gods together.’

‘Graf?’

‘Yes, Auum.’

‘How many are we?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Tell me.’

Grafyrre sighed. ‘Marack, Nokhe, Hohan, Merke, Faleen, Evunn, Duele, Siraaj. You and me, of course. And Tilman.’

Auum didn’t look up from Ulysan.

‘You’re in good company, old friend,’ he whispered.

The capture of Ystormun had seen the surviving enemy Wesmen break and run, and Sentaya had let them go. Peace had descended on the village only to be broken by angry shouts from the direction of the Xeteskian cavalry and mage force, which was resting far too close to the village oval and its dead. Auum heard swords drawn from scabbards and the sounds of men running and he felt a growing tension.

‘But they won’t let you rest.’

Auum stood and looked at the scene of the trouble, almost instantly breaking into a dead run. There was a knot of men pushing and shoving: Xeteskians, Wesmen including Sentaya and a man he had thought dead. With his anger burning bright again, Auum, followed by his surviving TaiGethen, turned a high somersault in the air and landed right in the midst of the argument. Battle-weary angry TaiGethen with painted faces made a very efficient barrier. Both sides moved back a few paces.

Auum took in the Xeteskians — the pompous-looking old mage, his powerful cavalry captain and the melee of other soldiers and mages wanting in on the argument — and turned, his grief lifting a degree for a moment. There stood Sentaya, bloodied, bruised and exhausted. He was supporting Stein, who had an arm around the tribal lord’s shoulders and Sentaya’s about his waist. Stein looked in a bad way. Burned and spent, with what was clearly a broken arm and a foot he could barely place on the ground.

‘You’re supposed to hate each other,’ said Auum.

‘We’ll do it again tomorrow,’ said Stein. ‘What do you say?’

Auum dragged himself over and embraced Stein. ‘It’s good to see you, brother.’

‘You too.’

‘Whatever’s going on here, it can wait.’

Stein’s face coloured. ‘This sweaty supercilious bastard and his murdering filth have to answer for their crimes.’

‘It can wait.’

The pompous mage said something Auum didn’t understand, but the tone was contemptuous. Auum’s scalp prickled and he spun round, his weary TaiGethen following his lead. The mage shrank back a pace, his gaze flicking to his cavalry captain.

‘The dead lie unattended. Those we love are alone under the sky while you posture and strut like ageing stags chasing powers long faded. Brave men, brave elves, have died today. You will show them proper respect.’

Auum didn’t take his eyes from the mage, who looked to Stein for the translation he needed. His understanding did nothing to soften his face. He opened his mouth to speak but Stein got there first.

‘They betrayed us, Auum. Think of how many you lost because they allied with the bastard they have belatedly caught.’

The Xeteskian responded with a furious outburst of his own and had to be pushed back again by Marack and Grafyrre.

Auum rounded on Stein. ‘Yes, look how many have died!’ He gestured back towards Sentaya’s ruined village. Sentaya himself looked bemused, the grief for his loss beginning to shroud his mind. ‘Wesmen, elves and Julatsans, and yet here we stand and they are lost without us beside them. We must attend to our dead now, so your reckoning will wait.’

Auum waited until Stein nodded before turning to the Xeteskian once more. Stein translated for him.

‘And you will accord us the proper respect. You will allow us the space and the peace to prepare our dead and see them to their eternal rest. And we will accord you and your dead the same respect. And when dawn breaks tomorrow, you and I and Stein will speak.’

The mage wafted a hand. ‘Do as you will. Your primitive rituals hold no interest for me.’

It was Stein’s hand on Auum’s shoulder that stopped the TaiGethen killing the mage then and there. He shook the hand off and nodded to Marack and Grafyrre that he intended only to speak.

‘The blood of every elf and every one of Sentaya’s dead is on your hands. You are guilty in the eyes of Shorth, and if you utter one more ignorant word I will send you to stand before him. Knowledge has been lost today that we could not afford to lose.’ Auum’s anger left him and he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened. ‘Ulysan is dead.’

‘Oh, Auum, I am so sorry,’ said Stein. ‘I grieve for you.’

‘Grieve for them all,’ said Auum. ‘I can’t stand here any longer.’

Auum walked away, his TaiGethen with him. He heard the mage speak and Stein reply.

‘Graf, Marack, we have to scour the field from the enemy camp to the borders of the village. We have to bring all our dead together. Some of them we will never find. You know what to do. I’m going to sit with Ulysan.’

Grafyrre and Marack melted away, taking the TaiGethen with them. Auum walked alone.

Ulysan was not alone, and Auum felt a rush of relief. But it was not one of the TaiGethen with him, nor was it one of the Il-Aryn, who were utterly spent and sitting in a single group for comfort. It was Tilman who stood as he approached, looking anxious as if caught stealing.

‘I thought he. . needed. . company. I’m sor-’

Auum embraced him hard while the tears fell down his face and the sobs racked his body. After a nervous pause, Tilman gripped back.

‘Thank you,’ whispered Auum. ‘Thank you.’

He broke the embrace and, holding Tilman’s shoulders, looked deep into his eyes.

‘There is soul in you,’ he said and kissed Tilman’s forehead. ‘And now. .’

‘I know. You need solitude. I’ll make myself useful elsewhere.’

Auum sat by Ulysan.

He watched Tilman walk off, looking for someone to help. ‘Humans are fools. With some exceptions. But you already knew that.’

Around him survivors were moving among their fallen comrades, checking for signs of life. Occasionally a shout would go up, but mostly a touch was followed by a shake of the head. He looked at Ulysan’s face. It was relaxed and untroubled but pale.

‘I would kill every Xeteskian for just one of your jokes.’

A tear dropped onto Ulysan’s cheek. Auum made to wipe it away then left it, watching it track down the side of his face, life travelling across death. There was so much he wanted to say, but admissions of guilt were as pointless as they were wrong. Ulysan would have chided him for expressing them.

‘Among all the souls that have crossed my path, yours was the warmest, the one possessed of the most joy, passion and care. But it didn’t ever stop you taking the right path as a TaiGethen warrior. How did you walk that narrow path so effortlessly? I have so many questions. Stupid, isn’t it? I have known and loved you for three thousand years and yet I never found the time to truly mine your wisdom.

‘But don’t worry; it won’t be wasted because I can recall every conversation, every combat and look we shared and every act Yniss bade us perform to protect his blessed rainforest. And your wisdom binds them all, doesn’t it? All I have to do is remember and your knowledge will be there.’

Auum smiled and rested a hand over Ulysan’s heart, desperate to feel it beating. ‘You know there was a time I thought you would challenge me to be the Arch. You were walking with Silent Priests, you were loved by them and by every TaiGethen, every Al-Arynaar. I wondered why you didn’t speak up — I even thought to prompt you because I thought you would be the perfect Arch — but it’s obvious now. Now it’s too late to tell you I understand.

‘You already were a leader, weren’t you? Spiritually, emotionally and paternally, they all followed you and your purity of mind and action. I cannot thank you enough for knowing your better role. You made my life as the Arch one of brotherhood and not isolation. No elf can put a value on that.’

Auum’s hand moved to Ulysan’s head and stroked his hair. He strained to hear his voice, his breath, anything to bring him from this awful reality to the one he desired more than anything. Auum was hollow, and every breath he took felt like betrayal.

‘You know what I saw that day in the Arish mountains? What has stayed with me every day since? No, of course you don’t. I was always too busy to tell you. Probably thought your ego would get too heavy and break your neck or something.’ Auum chuckled briefly. ‘There you go. I can’t escape your jokes even though you can’t tell them.

‘You were cold, and it was so dark that our sight was challenged. You were exhausted, your eyes were closed and your breathing was so terribly shallow. You must have been so close to the end, but your hand, your freezing hand, was still locked around that root.

‘And that’s what I saw. The elf with more belief, more strength and more determination than any I have ever met, before or since. And you just a whelp too. I cannot begin to voice the scale of the tragedy that is your passing.

‘I just thought you should know,’ whispered Auum. ‘Now let’s sit together and let the world soak into our souls like we have so many times before.’

Evening was coming, and there was a chill on the breeze that grew as the light faded. Auum had barely lifted his head in the last few hours though he had remained dimly aware of the activity going on all around him. He knew he should have played his part but he really did not feel he could be anywhere other than by Ulysan’s side. Apparently everyone else had felt so too.

But now Marack, Grafyrre, Stein and Sentaya were heading his way, looking every bit the deputation. Stein, though still limping, was looking considerably better, having clearly benefited from some healing magic, but the other three wore their grief like yokes across their shoulders. Auum felt a sympathetic pain in his heart. He squeezed Ulysan’s shoulder and stood up.

‘Thank you for-’

Stein had begun to translate Auum’s words, but Sentaya held up a hand and talked over him, Stein obliging.

‘When a warrior has lost a brother he loved for three thousand years, scant hours are not enough, but they are all we have.’

Auum put a hand to his heart. ‘I am humbled,’ he said.

Sentaya inclined his head.

‘Auum,’ said Grafyrre. Auum knew what he was going to say but didn’t want anyone to say it. ‘You know we can’t take them with us.’

Auum couldn’t speak for a moment. He looked back at Ulysan, gestured at his body and frowned. This felt like the ultimate betrayal.

‘The rainforest is home. We can’t lay him for reclamation here. None of them.’

‘No, we can’t,’ said Grafyrre. ‘But Sentaya has another way and I think you should hear it.’

Auum nodded though he failed to see how there could be such a thing.

‘I have spoken with your warriors and I respect your way of honouring your fallen though I don’t understand it,’ said Sentaya. ‘And I don’t expect you to understand mine. But the soul travels to its resting place however it is honoured. We build pyres for our dead because the soul escapes the body through fire. The ashes that remain are scattered on land or water to spread the memories of the dead for the benefit of all who travel through them for eternity.

‘Our peoples fought and died as brothers. It would be an honour to lay your dead with my son and my fallen warriors, as brothers in the afterlife.’

Auum had expected to be revolted by Sentaya’s words or at the very least dismissive of his beliefs, but he wasn’t. Indeed, here in this barren ugly land, Sentaya’s imagery had a stark beauty and a reverence that was wholly fitting. Ulysan would have agreed, and that was all that really mattered.

Auum stepped up to Sentaya, and the lord allowed himself to be embraced and kissed on the forehead.

‘Tell Sentaya that it would be an honour fitting of the TaiGethen dead to move to the afterlife beside his son and his warriors. We will pray together and we will grieve together. Tell him that the thanks of all elves are with him and his people today.’

Three large flat rocks close to the lakeside were traditionally used as bases for pyres, but more than twenty other temporary structures had been built around the water’s edge either side of the rocks, where the prevailing breeze would blow the smoke away from the village.

The fallen enemy had been readied for return to their tribes, and the concerns of the surviving elves and Wesmen around the joint ceremony had been eased and agreement reached. In the deepening twilight Sentaya’s fallen son was laid in the middle of the central stone atop a pyre of sticks and the ruined timbers of buildings. Ulysan and Takaar flanked him, and with other senior Wesmen dead next to them went Merrat and Rith.

And so it was on every pyre: TaiGethen, Il-Aryn and Wesman lay side by side. Auum had initially wanted the races separated, but Sentaya had spoken of his desire for elven ashes to bless his lands and for Wesman ashes to fall on Calaius. The fierce Wesman lord spoke with such emotion that Auum could do nothing but agree that it was the right way, the only way.

Auum had carried Ulysan himself and laid him on the pyre. The smell of lantern oil was strong, and the liquid shined on the timbers and firewood.

‘It is not as you may have dreamed, but your soul will be freed. Yniss will see you safely to Shorth’s embrace and the calls of the ancients will bring you home. Goodbye, Ulysan, hero of the TaiGethen, hero of the elven race, my oldest and most loved friend. Where you go now, I cannot follow. It is not yet my time.’

Fresh tears fell on Ulysan’s face. Auum stroked his cheeks, smoothed his hair one last time and kissed his forehead and eyes. He took Ulysan’s cold hand in his, still unable to comprehend why the big TaiGethen had no grip.

‘I can’t believe I’ll never hear your voice again,’ he whispered.

He laid Ulysan’s hand back down by his side and stepped back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lord Sentaya and Grafyrre. To his left and right the surviving TaiGethen lined up with Wesmen. Torches flared in the darkening sky.

‘Auum,’ said Sentaya.

Auum looked. Sentaya was holding two torches, one of which he proffered to the elf. Auum nodded and took it, then surprised himself with the warmth of his smile when Sentaya spoke one word in elvish.

‘Together.’

Sentaya and Auum stepped forward, followed by every other torch bearer. Sentaya checked Auum was ready and the two of them laid their flames against the wood of the pyre, moving around it to set an even fire. Sentaya leaned over and dropped the torch onto his son’s body and Auum did the same for Ulysan.

Auum had to force himself to watch as the fire intensified quickly, accelerated by the light oil. He saw it touch Ulysan’s clothes, his jaqrui pouch still full of his crescents and the swords crossed over his chest. His skin began to blacken and smoulder and Auum had to convince himself afresh that this was the right way. He sent a silent prayer to Yniss for forgiveness and understanding before letting his voice carry for all his people to hear.

‘Where you walked, the ground was blessed. Where your voice was heard, the air rejoiced. Your name will ever warm the throats of Tual’s denizens and echo in the halls of the ancients.’

The Wesmen were singing. To Auum the words didn’t matter, but the emotions of sorrow and hope lifted him as the flames consumed Ulysan, Takaar and so many TaiGethen and Il-Aryn the elves could not afford to have lost. And when they were done, the elves added their song: a dirge for the departed, beautiful and brimming with grief.

Auum lost track of the passage of time. He stared into the mesmerising flames, letting them obscure his eyes from their task. He was aware that the Wesmen were beginning to drift away. Many of them threw mementos into the fires — brooches, knives and buckles — as a final show of respect.

Sentaya placed a powerful hand on his shoulder. Stein was there as ever, waiting to translate.

‘It is done, Auum. The fires will fade and die, some ash will blow on the wind across the water, and at dawn we will gather what remains and share it between us. Now it is time for sleep and for the grief to begin to settle.’

Auum nodded. ‘May your dreams be full of glad memories, but for the elves it is not done. Not until the sun crests the horizon tomorrow.’

‘What will you do?’

‘We will pray.’

Auum watched Sentaya walk away, envelop his wife in his arms, lift and carry her back to the ruins of his village, his shoulders shaking, her head tucked into his neck. At an unspoken word the TaiGethen gathered, and how few they were. The Il-Aryn would not partake in the warrior tradition.

‘You can stay,’ Auum said to Stein and Tilman. ‘I’m sure Yniss will forgive me.’

Stein shook his head. ‘Not this time, Auum. This time is for you and your TaiGethen. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘You’re a good man,’ said Auum.

‘And you are the finest of souls, Auum. I feel so deeply for your loss.’

Auum smiled. ‘Your loss too. Never going to get an Ulysan kiss again, are you?’

‘I shall never wash this cheek,’ said Stein, placing his hand on it. ‘Send a prayer for me.’

‘I’ll do that.’

The TaiGethen sat in a circle and prayed until dawn.

The Xeteskian camp was busy preparing for departure on a cold cloudy morning. Horses were being walked, fed, watered and saddled. Tents were coming down, wagons were being loaded and ugly human voices rang out in shouts, tainting the air.

But there were words to be spoken, and not even the Xeteskian mage Bynaar thought to ride away with them unsaid. However, his reluctance was plain as he arrived, along with four guards, to speak with Auum, Sentaya and Stein. He refused to sit, and so the quartet stood to talk in the centre of the village. Stein translated for them all.

‘I want assurances of safe passage for my people in your lands,’ said Bynaar without preamble.

Sentaya wiped a hand across his mouth and shrugged.

‘Is that really your opening gambit?’ asked Stein. ‘You have committed crimes against man and elf and you think you can simply walk away?’

‘I acknowledge no crimes. We are at war, and yes, I think I can simply walk away.’

Auum closed his eyes briefly. He was exhausted after a day and a night of prayer and tears following a day of fighting. His patience was gossamer-thin.

‘You are a lying treacherous pig and you and your college will face justice,’ said Stein, his face red and his eyes wide and wild.

Bynaar started to reply, but Auum rounded on him, staring at him with such undisguised malice that he stopped. Auum turned back to Stein.

‘And you need to calm down too. And translate for me. Try not to get upset by what he says.’

‘Yes, I’ll translate, and no, I won’t get any angrier than I already am.’

‘Bynaar,’ said Auum. He swung back to look at the mage, who was flushed and flustered. ‘You dishonour our dead. Wesman, elf and Julatsan have fought here for the lives of everyone, and your posturing sullies the passing of their souls.’

‘The dishonour is all his. Consorting with our enemies, standing arm in arm like brothers in battle,’ said Bynaar, pointing to Stein, whose translation was spoken very carefully in a monotone.

‘And so they were,’ snapped Auum, stepping very close. ‘Stein risked his life to come here and make our case, and the Lord Sentaya trusted him and us enough to do what had to be done. We drew Ystormun out and we held him so that you could capture him. And now it is done, and we will never forget what your people did to us at Triverne Lake. For that you have my abiding hate.’

‘We did what had to be done,’ said Bynaar.

Auum grabbed his chin. The Xeteskian guards tried to force him away, but Bynaar waved them back. Auum stared into Bynaar’s eyes and studied him while his anger settled.

‘You really don’t understand, do you? I should hate you. But instead I pity you.’

He let Bynaar go, and the master mage backed off a pace, unable to stop himself rubbing his chin, where Auum’s fingermarks were coming up red on his skin.

‘I do not care for your pity,’ said Bynaar.

He made to turn away, but Auum’s next words stopped him even before Stein translated them, their tone cold, quiet and steeped in the authority of great age.

‘You will listen to me.’ Auum waited for Bynaar’s eyes to meet his. ‘We have never sought conflict with others, yet it has been visited upon us, first by the Garonin and then, for the last thousand years, by humans. You risk our lives by your carelessness and your ignorance.’

Bynaar’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak. Auum shook his head, a minute gesture.

‘Your desire for dominance over your enemies has consequences for us all, and you are either oblivious to them or you choose to ignore them. For three thousand years I have walked the rainforest with my people. Three thousand years of love and care and knowledge, and most of it before your college was even dreamed of, before Ystormun and his bastards. Before human magic.

‘But your unquenchable desire for power means so many have died. Elves with wisdom none of us could afford to lose. Takaar has died. Ulysan has died.’

Auum’s voice threatened to break and he saw Bynaar’s eyes twitch.

‘You sought a spell you could never find to grant yourselves power you could never own, and now you are left with nothing but hate.’

‘Who are you to lecture me?’ said Bynaar, his voice teetering on bluster. ‘I am of the Circle Seven.’

‘That office has not conferred any wisdom on you, has it?’ Auum regarded him for a moment. ‘I am Auum. I am Arch of the TaiGethen. I have seen more sorrow than I should have even in my long life, and these last days have been the worst of all. Dread powers clashing and tossing life aside. So many men leave their families without fathers. So many brothers and sons dead here and across the mountains, testament to a battle that should never have been fought because no one had the wit to wonder whether the victor could enjoy his spoils.

‘You assumed your power allowed you to grasp whatever you wanted. You were wrong and those I loved above all are dead as a result.’ Auum stared into Bynaar’s eyes. ‘There is only one reason you are still alive and that is to finish what Takaar started. You have five more Wytch Lords to catch. This land must have peace so my people can have peace too.’

‘And supposing we do not do as you demand, Auum of the TaiGethen?’

‘I had sworn never to come back here,’ said Auum. ‘I swore it to Ulysan, but now he is dead and his death will not be in vain. So if I must return to deal with you I will bring power with me such that you will wish you had never crossed paths with me, my TaiGethen or the Il-Aryn.

‘My warriors are faster than your eye can track. They can kill you before you know you are attacked, and the Il-Aryn can reduce the walls of your precious college to dust before your eyes and then do the same to your skull.’

Bynaar made a contemptuous noise. ‘A ridiculous assertion.’

Auum put an arm around Bynaar’s shoulders and held him very tight. Sentaya growled at Bynaar’s guards and they fell back.

‘Then I will demonstrate.’ Auum raised his voice. ‘Ephemere! Ephemere!’

Of the elves gathered in front of the last of the village buildings, one stepped forward.

‘Yes, Auum.’

‘This man doesn’t believe you can make dust from that broken barn.’

‘Doesn’t he? Well I’ll see what I can do.’

Ephemere gathered four Il-Aryn to her including her sister. Bynaar cleared his throat noisily, and Auum held him a little tighter, tight enough to make him wince. The five elves stepped towards the barn on which Rith had died and prepared. It was a relatively quick casting in the making. The barn was in ruins, its roof burned away and its timbers so much ash, but its stone walls still stood. Ephemere’s team teased out the energies, grabbed them with their minds and pulled. The stone vanished, replaced by a dust cloud that settled slowly, revealing the extent of their skill. Bynaar had tensed in Auum’s grip, and when he was released regarded the Arch with a deal more wariness and a modicum of respect.

‘Impressive,’ he conceded.

Stein was looking as if he had won the war on his own. Auum turned to him.

‘None have come out of this with any honour except Lord Sentaya, who risked everything on the say-so of an elf. This is not your victory.’ Auum swung back to face the Xeteskian mage. ‘You will incarcerate the Wytch Lords?’

Bynaar nodded. ‘We have never wanted anything else. It is for that we demand safe passage. Ridding the Wesmen of the Wytch Lords will free them, and only we can do it.’

‘For that and that alone I will organise safe passage,’ said Sentaya. ‘Word of Ystormun’s capture will spread like a wildfire through the tribes. The tribal lords will rise and the shamen will be cast down. I, Sentaya, Lord of the Paleon, promise this. You will ever be my enemy but I will not strike at you while you complete this task.’

Bynaar studied him and inclined his head.

‘How quickly can you organise this?’

‘A few days,’ said Sentaya.

‘I must bring reinforcements,’ said Bynaar. ‘The Wytch Lords remain strong.’

Sentaya hesitated a few moments. ‘So be it, but your actions will unite the tribes. We will be watching and our blades will yearn for the taste of Xeteskian blood.’

Bynaar shrugged. ‘It is not in our plans to attack your country — nothing else of value lies here — but you should be warned that enough strength remains in the east to destroy any who seek to take advantage of our absence.’

Stein exploded, trying to get past Auum, but was held back by Sentaya.

‘What is wrong with you?’ hissed Auum.

‘He’s lying. He means Xetesk to be master of this whole country, the east and the west. You cannot trust him!’

‘Of course I don’t trust him.’ Auum turned back to Bynaar, feeling tired and desperate to breathe rainforest air. ‘Stein is a brother of the elves. Julatsa is an ally of the elves. They have our ear and they enjoy our protection. Do not make me come back here because you will be the first I seek out. As Yniss is my witness, this is my pledge.’

‘You don’t believe I will keep my word?’ said Bynaar.

‘I believe you will do whatever is in the best interests of Xetesk. Ensure none of my friends is damaged by those interests.’ Auum turned to go and then had a last thought. He swung back and tapped a finger on Bynaar’s chest. ‘You might want to pass that on to your sons, their sons and the sons of the next hundred generations.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I am immortal, and I have a very, very long memory.’

Bynaar opened his mouth to speak, but a strange look came into his eyes and he seemed to relax, holding up his hands.

‘The threat eternal,’ he said. ‘It is well made. Now, unless there is anything else, I must leave to set about ridding the world of Wytch Lords and saving us all in the process.’

‘How dare you cast yourself as the world’s saviour,’ snapped Stein. ‘You are a butcher and your college wallows in deceit. We will never trust you.’

‘Then at last perhaps we understand each other, Stein of Julatsa. Give my regards to Kerela.’

Bynaar turned and walked away, his guards with him.

‘He will betray us,’ said Stein.

‘Of course,’ said Auum. ‘And so you and Lystern and Dordover must be ready, mustn’t you?’

‘Neat idea getting Ephemere to demonstrate, by the way, though I thought you hated magic and never wanted to see another elf cast a spell,’ said Stein.

‘Don’t you start. I get enough of that from-’ Auum gestured over his left shoulder, which was cold because Ulysan was not there. ‘Anyway, even I have to admit it has its uses. Come on, let’s get back to the others.’

‘I can’t imagine life without him,’ said Auum.

The elves were gathered to eat breakfast. The mood was sombre and quiet.

‘The rainforest will certainly be quieter,’ said Grafyrre.

Auum chuckled in spite of himself.

‘You know he always said that I should let him do the jokes. Who’s going to do them now?’

No one had an answer. No elf, anyway.

‘I will,’ said Tilman.

Auum smiled at him. ‘Your place is here with Stein. But you are always welcome in the rainforest. I’ll even stop it killing you.’

‘Is that a joke?’ asked Tilman.

‘Not entirely,’ said Grafyrre.

Auum sighed. ‘I lost my cell here.’

‘Anyone would be proud to run with you,’ said Faleen.

‘I have my eye on one or two,’ said Auum, ‘but I think I’ll walk the path of the Silent until I can face it all without Ulysan.’

Faleen and Grafyrre were staring at him, Merke and Marack too.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You’re seriously not going to tell us who you have your eye on?’ said Marack.

‘All right then. Duele is good, but he might make a more useful cell leader. Evunn too. Fast, accurate. Ulysan liked them both.’

‘Then that’s enough, isn’t it?’ said Grafyrre.

‘When the time is right,’ said Auum. There were fresh tears threatening, and Auum shook his head, not wanting to wallow any more. Ulysan would have chided him for it, after all.

Auum heard a brief exchange of words in tribal Wes, and two more figures moved into the circle. Auum stood and Sentaya enveloped him in a huge bear hug. When the Wesman let go there were tears in his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. Though surprised at the embrace from a man normally so in control of himself, Auum’s heart beat for the feelings they both shared so keenly.

‘Tell Sentaya that to cry is to let the essence of your soul comfort those of the departed. There is no shame in it, only love of the most precious kind. Tell him his son will be the greater for it where he has travelled.’

Stein translated and Sentaya smiled, letting fresh tears drip down his cheeks.

‘I have brought you three boxes full of the ashes of the fallen. Part of my son is in there along with your Ulysan.’

Auum nodded, the reason for the sudden tears now plain.

‘Is there anything else you want to say to Sentaya?’ asked Stein.

‘Tell him that, with his blessing, we will rest here today, but as dawn breaks tomorrow we will be leaving him to rebuild his life as we go to rebuild ours.’ Auum smiled and felt hope as well as a yearning to feel the canopy above his head. ‘Tell him we want to go home.’