Once walked with Gods

Chapter 7

When you enter battle you are always fighting three enemies at once. Your fear, your foe and his courage. The heat in the Gardaryn was stultifying. The bedlam that had greeted the end of Lorius’s address had gone on and on, with Helias apparently unwilling to bring the chamber to order as protocol demanded. But Jarinn did not look for help or support. He merely waited for the noise to recede.

‘Lorius displays much passion,’ he said eventually.

Katyett waited for the baying of the crowd to begin again but instead they stilled and turned to face him, listening.

‘And he speaks with some measure of truth,’ continued the high priest of Yniss.

‘Look at that,’ breathed Merrat.

‘There’s still hope while they remember they love him,’ said Katyett, and a little warmth stole into her heart.

‘I will not speak for long. I am an old elf, though I might not look it, and standing is tiring.’

The glint in Jarinn’s eyes was picked up by those close to the stage. Laughter broke out and one wag even reminded the high priest of his immortality.

‘Ah but, my friend, though you are right, no Ynissul is impervious to illness, steel or other infirmity. And I can assure you that immortality can seem a curse when one suffers from arthritis.’

A theatrical ‘Ahhh!’ rose from the crowd. Jarinn raised his hands.

‘But I am not here to garner sympathy; I am here to return our people to a state of reason and logic and to avoid a descent into blood.’

The boos and catcalls began again.

‘Well what did you expect – that I would agree with him? Now let me address one of the things he said which worries me deeply. I hear that Ynissul are being inserted into all positions of authority that come available. This is unacceptable. I will consult with Lorius and we will right that balance. I apologise that I was not fully aware before today. Aryndeneth is a distant temple.’

Silence, then thunderous applause.

‘They believe him,’ said Grafyrre.

‘That shouldn’t surprise you,’ said Katyett. ‘Let’s face it: if anyone is trusted to always tell the truth, it is Jarinn.’

‘For the most part, I am not going to respond to High Priest Lorius, an ula that I respect and am proud to call a friend,’ said Jarinn. ‘I will tell you what I believe and you will have to judge whether my beliefs are worthy of today’s harmony. Will you listen to me?’

A few hoots of contempt but in the main a respectful silence fell.

‘Thank you. Here is what Takaar means to us. He means twelve hundred years of peace. He means the War of Bloods is a distant memory. He means a society that embraces all its threads and strives to treat them with equality. Why would you tear that up?

‘Lorius speaks of Takaar’s failure as a catalyst for an Ynissul attempt to return to dominance. He is mistaken. I stand here before you, high priest of Yniss, and I tell you that the Ynissul do not wish for dominance. I do not wish for dominance. All I want to do is serve my god, serve my people and serve our glorious land.

‘If Takaar’s law has taught us anything, it is that we are one. We cannot exist as warring threads. Look how our population has grown during the harmony. Look how all our gods are stronger. Look at how much more we know. Temples bulge with scriptures. Our rainforest provides everything we need to keep our bodies healthy. Working together has brought us comfort of mind and body.

‘Why would you tear that up?’

Jarinn paused. He scanned the crowd, who stared at him, utterly silent now. Jarinn’s voice had a compelling quality to it. He didn’t speak at great volume. He didn’t have to. Katyett knew what each and every ula and iad in the chamber felt. It was like Jarinn was talking to them, and them alone.

‘Takaar ever was an enigma. Most of you here probably never met him, much less saw him in action. A braver elf there has never been, and will never be. Two hundred and more years before any of us travelled here, before Takaar opened the gateway, it was he who saw the path to our salvation. He was the first to openly declare his love for every elf who walked the land under the gaze of our gods. And it was he who cut to the heart of the conflict and made us understand our stupidity.

‘The War of Bloods. Very grand in name but we were merely fighting about who lived the longest. We might just as well have been fighting over the size of our hands or the colour of our hair. These things are not within our control. I did not choose to be born an Ynissul, nor did Lorius choose to be born a Tuali. Accidents of birth.

‘Are you cursed if you are Gyalan and relatively short-lived? No. You enjoy a purity of soul that no Ynissul can ever know. There is joy in that. And ask any man from the north if they would consider a lifespan of four hundred years and more short? The blink-lives are jealous of all of our longevities. Theirs is such a brief ember, is it not? If you were human, you could understand that causing conflict, yes?’

Laughter spread around the chamber.

‘Takaar taught us to embrace our differences. To use our strengths to help each other, not to divide us. And he succeeded, didn’t he? Yes, he did. So that is what Takaar and Takaar’s law has brought us. Twelve hundred years of peace, harmony and understanding. Remember that. It is an indisputable truth.’

Jarinn paused again and surveyed the crowd.

‘So to the events of a decade ago and the reason we are all in here, rather than without, enjoying the beauty of our land. Takaar failed. His courage faltered on that fateful day. A great many elves lost their lives. All these facts are irrefutable.

‘Consider this also. That in the forty days before Takaar fell from grace, his actions with the Garonin pressing on towards the walls of Tul-Kenerit saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Indeed on the day before, nine thousand came through the gate from Hausolis to find sanctuary here on Calaius. These facts are irrefutable. We have every scrap of paperwork to prove it.

‘And finally, think on this. When Takaar’s courage faltered, he ran. And that is a shame he must forever bear. And he ran through the portal and into the streets of Ysundeneth. There is an argument that it was his only hope of escaping the Garonin. And that is probably true. But it also demonstrates a mind still keen despite the torture he must have been experiencing. Popular hatred dictates that he ran through and marooned a hundred thousand. Imagine if he had not? We all know that the Garonin wanted the gateway more than any elven heart. Takaar stopped them when the gate collapsed in his wake. And in doing so, he saved each and every one of you.’

There was a murmuring in the chamber. Lorius scoffed loudly.

‘It does not matter if this salvation was an unintended consequence of his flight. He achieved it anyway. I am not here to defend Takaar personally; I am here to tell you what will happen if his law is denounced along with him, if it is torn up and is no longer presided over by our gods.

‘Takaar’s law binds us. Tuali, Beethan, Ixii, Gyalan, Orran, Ynissul, whoever our god and whatever our longevity in our land. It is a guiding hand when there is doubt. It is the spine of our race. The fire in the darkest of places and the sun after the rains have come. It is rooted as deeply within us now as is the air we breathe here. It links us, gives us strength and unity. It stays the hand of the wronged. It is the embrace for those who need succour.

‘Takaar’s law is the heart of the elves. Rip it out and you will reap sorrow and bloodshed. No one denies we have problems but we must work through them together. As Takaar taught us. Denounce him and his law and be lessened. Be turned from the path to greatness. Be no better than men.

‘Do not turn from Takaar. Not now. Not ever. Every challenge is surmountable. Every grievance can be resolved. But not if you tear the spine from our body. Walk with me and, as Takaar once did, walk with gods.

‘Thank you for hearing me.’

The applause was deafening but not so febrile as that which had followed Lorius’s speech. Eloquent, empathetic, sincere. But Katyett’s smile was sad.

‘Has he done enough?’ asked Grafyrre.

‘Oh, Graf, what do you think?’

‘I think we’d better be ready to do exactly what Lorius accused us of waiting to do,’ said Grafyrre.

‘Yniss preserve us for what is to come,’ whispered Merrat. Katyett gathered herself to see the inevitable unfold. A few spoke in support of Lorius and were cheered to the rafters. A few, a very few including Pelyn, spoke for Jarinn and were taunted and shouted down. Agitators were moving among the crowd and the calm Jarinn had engendered dissolved into a broiling expectancy.

Pelyn had stood before a withering barrage of abuse. They called her traitor and coward. They called her slave to the Ynissul. Only once did she raise her eyes to the rafters and Katyett saw in her eyes all the pain of memory that she carried with her. Al-Arynaar warriors were gathering in the wings, ready to augment those already stretched across the front of the stage. Much of the crowd was on its feet now and there was a distinct bunching forward.

Katyett called the TaiGethen to her. Fifteen of them, five cells, swarming over the timbers and barely even disturbing the dust.

‘You all know which way this is going to go. You know our priorities. No blades. We cannot afford blood on our hands. Positions. May Yniss bless your every move.’

Katyett led Grafyrre and Merrat towards the front of the stage, where they stopped directly above the trio of lecterns. Others moved further back to wait above the stage in front of the ranks of seats. There was nervousness among the dignitaries below and some could be seen clearly eyeing up escape routes should things turn nasty.

Katyett kept her eyes on the crowd. She could see four Tualis near the front of the chamber. They were spread across the front of the stage and about three rows back in the press. She could see them shouting, leaning in to whisper and leading chants against Takaar.

‘See them?’ asked Katyett.

‘Yes,’ said Grafyrre.

‘If it comes to it, take them down quickly.’

Pelyn had stopped speaking and the howls of abuse and bile followed her back to her seat. Katyett watched her and saw the hand signals she gave to her warriors. The TaiGethen Arch bit her lip. It could all get out of hand very quickly. She couldn’t catch Pelyn’s eye and the Al-Arynaar leader had turned an expression full of anger on the crowd.

Helias raised his hands for quiet and the room stilled like the sky before thunder. Jarinn and Lorius moved back to their positions.

‘Now we come to it,’ said Helias, and Katyett had to smile at his penchant for the dramatic. ‘You have heard the speeches from both sides of the debate. Words of passion, energy and belief. But it is you who will decide on this most critical of matters. Which way will you go? Think on it and hear the closing lines from Jarinn and, first, from Lorius. And may I remind you all of protocol at this time. Respect your priests, respect your gods and respect the history of this place. Lorius, please.’

Lorius nodded. ‘Brothers and sisters. A vote to denounce is not a vote to destroy the harmony. It is a vote to embrace a new way forward, an equal way forward, for all elves of all threads. A vote for peace and the glory of all our gods.’

‘Jarinn, please,’ said Helias.

Jarinn nodded. ‘Brothers and sisters. Denouncing Takaar’s law rips the spine from the body of elven harmony. The one cannot exist without the other. Vote to keep the law. Vote to keep the harmony and avoid a headlong fall into bloodshed and hatred.’

Helias nodded at each priest in turn.

‘Thank you. And now the chamber shall be seated.’

Katyett’s heart was thundering in her chest. Across the chamber, elves found chair, bench and floor space. Many could only crouch. Others sat on friends. The murmur of conversation was loud and constant, the buzz of anticipation like a plague of approaching insects.

‘Now we vote,’ said Helias. ‘I will have silence. And I will have decorum throughout or the vote shall be called void.’

The buzz and hum died away. The sounds of the crowd outside mingled with the cacophony of the surrounding rainforest and the drumming of rain on the roof.

‘Those who would see Takaar’s law remain, who would see Takaar’s name still held in reverence by Yniss, stand now.’

Behind Helias perhaps two thirds of the dignitaries stood, but in defiance of protocol the public did not follow them. Only a handful rose to their feet to be greeted by jeers and laughter. On the stage Jarinn’s head dropped. Helias waited. A ripple ran around the chamber, elves straining to leap up on his word, barely in check.

‘Those who would see Takaar denounced and Takaar’s law torn from the statute, stand now.’

The storm of noise was staggering. Elves surged to their feet, their voices booming up into the rafters, washing across the stage and rebounding. Immediately, Katyett could see fighting on the floor, those few supporters of Jarinn paying for their courage. She could not worry about them now. Hundreds began to bunch and move towards the stage. From nowhere, she saw torches brandished and lit. She saw the flash of metal, weapons being uncovered in direct contravention of the laws of the Gardaryn.

‘I call the vote to denounce carried!’ yelled Helias into the deafening tumult though none needed his words to know the result.

Helias retreated, beckoning to both Jarinn and Lorius. Neither priest moved, though Jarinn glanced back at the tapestries hung on the walls, the symbols of Takaar’s heroism and the law that had governed the elves for so long.

All around her, Katyett felt the eyes of the TaiGethen on her. She shrugged and nodded.

‘Tais, we move.’

Elite elven warriors hung down from the rafters and dropped seventy feet to the stage, their landings soft and sure. They rose as one, two cells moving in front of the lecterns, the other three moving quickly back to begin clearing the seats. Katyett stood in the centre of the stage. Down on the floor, the line of Al-Arynaar braced.

‘No weapons,’ she shouted. ‘Disarm and disable.’

The roaring of the crowd was extraordinary. Her voice could not possibly carry to all who needed to hear it. She spun around. Helias was still backing away.

‘Helias. Order the gongs. We have to clear the floor.’ But Helias wasn’t listening; he was leaving. ‘Damn you.’

Katyett touched Grafyrre’s shoulder. The TaiGethen turned half round.

‘They’ll try and take the flanks,’ he said. ‘We can’t let the treasures be destroyed.’

‘Split the Tais. Have the Al-Arynaar hold the centre.’

Katyett scanned the floor. The density in front of the stage was growing again, having dispersed a little when the TaiGethen dropped down. Agitators were galvanising a chant, a demand that the Takaar tapestries be destroyed, and all the words in the ancient language too. Malevolent. Foreboding.

She swung back to the lecterns and saw behind them the seats emptying quickly. Dignitaries were heading into the antechambers, kitchens and offices behind the stage towards the three sets of doors usually used by caterers and staff. She walked onto the bloodstain at centre stage.

‘My Lord Jarinn, you need to leave. One cell will guard you. Head straight back to Aryndeneth. The city is going to be ugly for a while. High Priest Lorius, you too. I’ll detail a cell to take you to a place of safety.’

‘I have no need of your help, TaiGethen.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Katyett. ‘But we are clearing this building. I suggest you go in safety while you still can.’

‘Lorius, don’t be stupid,’ said Jarinn. ‘I’ll see to it, Katyett. You’re needed elsewhere.’

‘Thank you, Jarinn. Olmaat! Your Tai to guard the priests.’

Olmaat nodded his acceptance of the honour. He was a superb warrior. The fastest of the TaiGethen. Katyett turned back to the front of the stage. The noise was growing steadily. A distinct divide had grown between those facing the stage, chanting and taunting, and those behind, waiting and watching. Katyett headed left to join her Tai.

‘Altogether too organised,’ said Merrat.

‘Watch the torch carriers. We-’

An order was barked from down on the floor. A volley of missiles arced overhead. Clay broke against the stone walls behind the tapestries and liquid spilled on stone, seat and wool. Katyett sniffed the air.

‘Oil.’ She knew what was coming next. ‘Tai, with me.’

Katyett leapt out over the Al-Arynaar in front of the stage and crashed into the crowd feet first. Elves scattered from around her. Merrat and Grafyrre landed close by, both moving towards targets to the left. Screams erupted. Katyett rose fluidly. A Tuali ula stood no more than three yards from her, torch in hand, cocked to throw.

‘Don’t do it,’ she warned.

‘Keep her from me,’ shouted the agitator. ‘She’s only one.’

In the roar of the crowd down here on the public floor, Katyett let her senses take over. One with nature, Yniss at her side, she focused, her mind clear of encumbrance and distraction. Most continued backing away from her. One came in from her left, swinging an unlit torch towards her head. Katyett moved a pace forward and blocked up and out with her left forearm. The torch broke over her wrist.

In front of her, the agitator caught her gaze. When he threw the torch she had already plotted its trajectory, was already in the air as it left his hand. She snatched it from its path, landed and kept moving. The agitator had no chance to escape. Katyett dropped the torch, crushed the flame underfoot, took another pace and snapped out her right fist, catching him square on the chin. His head rolled back and he crumpled.

Katyett stood over his prone form. She was standing in open space. No one was within five yards of her. But this was not victory. To the right, torches spun end over end to strike the stage, its seating and walls. And in the centre of the press the crowd had bunched and, as she watched, they rushed the stage. Pelyn ran in from the back offices, eight Al-Arynaar behind her, the sounds of violence sending a shiver through her back. Her mind was still aflame at the memory of her treatment at the hands of the public and the smirking contempt of Helias. Making sure he was safe had taken a significant effort of will.

She saw the crowd run right through her thin line of Al-Arynaar guard and onto the stage. She saw torches strike tapestry and wood, and sheets of flame leap up where the oil she could smell had splashed. There were TaiGethen powering in from left and right but of Katyett she could see no sign.

‘Get those fires out,’ she shouted, waving a hand to her right. ‘Keep people away from the tapestries. I want this stage clear.’

Two Al-Arynaar moved right, taking cushions from the chairs to act as beaters. Two more came with them, moving to head off those intent on seeing the fires consume a national treasure. Pelyn headed directly for the centre of the stage, where the first of the public were closing on the lecterns. She saw knives in hands, faces contorted with righteous rage. But no direction. Nowhere to truly vent the anger that had eclipsed the joy of their victory.

Pelyn and the four with her were a woefully inadequate number. She ran forward, throwing her arms out.

‘Back. Get back. Get off the stage.’

But her voice was lost. Pelyn led her Al-Arynaar across the lectern space. Below, at the front of the stage, her warriors were still trying to keep as many from the stage as they could. Right in front of her, an ula hefted a hand axe, clearly intent on taking it to the lectern carvings. He was Tuali like her, and his face was full of contempt. From behind him, sudden movement. Katyett and her Tai leapt over the crowd, executing tuck and roll before stretching out to land softly and turn, backing her up. To the right, Al-Arynaar pressed elves back, allowing the two with beaters to attack the flames.

Pelyn’s warriors moved to her sides. The ula with the axe stepped up, backed by others.

‘Out of my way.’ His voice was a snarl, his face ugly in his fury. ‘Takaar is denounced. We will remove his image.’

‘Stand down. Sheathe the axe.’

The Tuali laughed. ‘You no longer have the authority to stop me.’

Pelyn pushed her face right into his.

‘Don’t make me embarrass you,’ she said. ‘You are Tuali. Act like it.’

‘Run back to your Ynissul friends,’ he said. ‘You are no more Tuali to me than a dog. Efra.’

The ula spat on her, the saliva spattering over her nose and right eye. Pelyn felt her control give. She smashed a fist in his gut. He doubled over. Pelyn stepped aside and cracked her elbow into the side of his head. He went down, rolling onto his back. Pelyn took a knife from her belt sheath, dropped to her knee and raised her hand to strike into his heart.

A hand grabbed her wrist. A strong hand.

‘No.’ Katyett. ‘Don’t give them what they want.’

Pelyn was aware of silence sweeping out over the chamber. Her mind was clouded and she couldn’t shift the fury.

‘He-’

‘Pelyn. Listen to me.’

Pelyn jerked her arm, but Katyett’s grip merely hardened and all she succeeded in doing was dropping the knife.

‘They want a fight,’ said Pelyn.

‘They want a martyr,’ said Katyett. ‘Please, Pelyn. Not by your hand.’

Pelyn nodded. ‘All right. I’m all right.’

Katyett let go her wrist. Pelyn turned back to the ula. He displayed no fear. Instead a half smile played on his lips.

‘See?’ he said. ‘You are still their slave.’

Pelyn balled her fist and cracked it into the ula’s nose. Knocking him out cold against the stone stage.

‘Get him out of here,’ she said.

She stood up and straightened her clothes. Dozens more Al-Arynaar were entering the chamber from front and rear. Pelyn faced the subdued crowd.

‘The next one of you that calls me efra will be the martyr you so crave. Clear the chamber.’

Katyett put a hand on her shoulder.

‘You and I need to talk. Now.’