Elves: Once Walked With Gods Read online

  ‘Fucking place gets worse by the hour,’ said Arshul. ‘Don’t the rain ever stop?’

  ‘Stop your moaning and get up here and help me,’ said Haleth. ‘I can barely make out which way the sun is going. Your eyes are better than mine.’

  ‘Well you’re going to have bugs coming out of yours soon, aren’t you? No wonder they’re failing you.’ Arshul came up to Haleth’s left and chopped away with smooth movements of his blade. He looked at the light and shade ahead. ‘We’re still going in the right direction. Mainly.’

  ‘Good,’ said Haleth. He tripped on a hidden root and stumbled, bracing himself against a balsa trunk. ‘Bugger it.’

  ‘What happened to our guide? Sildaan promised us one.’

  ‘Sharp ears are good at promises, not so good at delivering,’ said Haleth.

  Something rushed across their path, perhaps ten yards ahead. Light and shade. Quick and gone as soon as he had seen it. Arshul pointed.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said, voice trembling. ‘A ghost in the trees.’

  ‘Sighting dead ahead,’ called Haleth, his heart thudding hard in his chest. ‘Ten yards moving left to right. Heads up, One-Eye, coming your way.’

  ‘I hear you, boss.’

  The company was still moving but very slowly. Every eye strained to see whatever it was. Haleth had a nagging feeling he recognised it, but in the downpour and almost lost in the shadows and ridiculously dense vegetation, there was no telling for sure.

  He could sense the nerves of those around them. This was not in any of their experience. They’d all been on Calaius for over a hundred days, trying to acclimatise. But there was no getting used to the rainforest. Rumours had run riot about what travelled inside the canopy. Haleth knew.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ said One-Eye. ‘Wait. Movement. Up ahead, fifteen yards. Haven’t we—’

  The shriek from Haleth’s left was drawn from the deepest well of fear. Birds took flight and a rush of movement was heard in the canopy all around them. There was a crashing on the forest floor. Haleth, Arshul and the eight others in the central group turned, holding their swords ready. Haleth already knew it wasn’t an enemy coming. But an enemy might be right behind the runner.

  A young man appeared, his face white in the gloom, his weapon gone and his mind with it. He burst through the vines and fell to the ground just in front of Haleth.

  ‘Kuthan!’ he wailed. ‘Kuthan’s head . . . So quick. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear.’

  ‘Talk to me, Ilesh. I need more sense than that.’ Haleth dropped to his knees and grabbed Ilesh’s shoulders. The young man looked up. ‘That’s better. Speak.’

  ‘There is nothing more. Kuthan’s dead. Beheaded and I didn’t even see anything. But there was something there. And then gone.’

  A keening wail carried over the drumming of the rain. For a moment, Haleth thought it had to be a wounded animal. Then he heard the slicing of vegetation, terribly close. He jerked back reflexively. Ilesh’s head jolted violently to the left. Blood sprayed out over Haleth’s face. He dropped the man and scrabbled back to his feet, grabbing his sword from the mud.

  Something jutted from Ilesh’s neck. A crescent blade with indented finger grips at one end. It had carved deep, slicing the jugular and lodging in the windpipe. The poor fool juddered and slumped sideways. Haleth didn’t take his eyes from the weapon. Sildaan had spoken of these things. Jaqrui, she’d called them. A signature weapon.

  ‘Shit,’ he breathed. ‘TaiGethen.’

  A scream rang out from behind them. Shouting followed it and cries for help floated across the forest floor. Haleth turned full circle, seeing another glimpse of the ghost in the trees.

  ‘Everyone to me. Now! I want a circle. Clear some ground, dammit. And stand together. Stand. Arshul, behind me. One-Eye, get back here. Archers and mages in the centre. To my left. Move!’ Haleth could see fear in every face. Action helped, but only a little.

  His men chopped at the vegetation at their feet, desperately trying to make enough space to stand and defend. The rain still rattled down and the gloom had deepened if anything, meaning there was yet more to come. One-Eye was leading his two back to the fold. They were trying to cover every angle, hacking at the foliage in front of them to make a path.

  ‘We’re watching for you,’ said Haleth. ‘Come on. Quickly.’

  A shadow flashed behind One-Eye. Haleth’s throat went dry. The man to One-Eye’s left pitched forwards. Haleth saw the pale gleam of a blade. Gone in an instant.

  ‘Run, One-Eye!’ he yelled. ‘Run!’

  Around him his men were jittery, staring out into the forest, trying to pierce the impenetrable. The ground around them was still treacherous but it would have to do. Tree trunks, vines and thick branches were going to get in the way of free swordplay. And the circle was too small. Haleth could understand their reluctance. Still . . .

  ‘Move out. Give the mages and bowmen some space. Don’t wait for a command to shoot or cast. Come on. Space. Space to fight.’

  Haleth took two deliberate steps forward and gestured with his arms for those to his left and right to come with him.

  ‘How many of them are there?’ asked one.

  ‘Do I look like a seer?’

  One-Eye and his sole charge ran into the rough circle. Survivors of the left flank and rear joined too. Seventeen stood and waited. Three of them with bows. Two mages. There was the sound of feet seeking firm purchase. Muttered curses and demands for more room. The whisper of spell shapes forming.

  Yet around them, barring the dripping, drumming and splashing of rain, the forest had fallen silent.

  Chapter 2

  Complacency is your greatest enemy.

  Auum and Serrin watched the men. The three already dead would be reclaimed by the forest. Auum prayed that Shorth visited torment on them for eternity. A prayer sure to be answered. Shorth would be greedy for the souls of men. Merciful Shorth whose wrath when betrayed was more terrible than that of Yniss himself.

  ‘They have courage,’ said Serrin.

  Auum sniffed. ‘They have organisation. Courage, no. We will wait long enough for the fear to eat away what little belief they have. Tual’s denizens will create doubt and false thought. Gyal’s tears will obscure real threat. And then you and I will complete Yniss’s work.’

  ‘Their leader. He has courage.’

  ‘It will not save him.’

  ‘One must survive.’

  ‘Is that an order?’ asked Auum.

  Serrin shrugged. ‘Advice.’

  Auum inclined his head. ‘I understand.’

  He turned back to study his prey and chose his next target.

  ‘Where are they?’ asked Arshul, his voice a hiss into the cacophony of animal and insect calls that had sprung up with a sudden slackening of the rain.

  This was not what he had signed up for. Decent money but unacceptable conditions. He was a man who lived with total certainty. With the knowledge that he had all the answers, was in complete control. He was here to fulfil specific tasks. Remove specific targets. This jaunt into the rainforest was billed as little more than an educational stroll. A way to understand better the complexities of this ridiculous society. Being under attack from lethal elves was not in the brief.

  ‘Out there,’ said One-Eye.

  ‘Very helpful. Any of you, can you see anything?’

  ‘Focus,’ said Haleth from the other side of the circle. ‘Remember the way it’s gone so far. The pale one is a distraction. The others will come from another direction. Keep talking, and whatever you do, do not break ranks. If we stand together, we’ll get through this.’

  ‘A ghost in the forest,’ said Arshul. ‘Not everything you hear turns out to be rumour.’

  ‘It’s no ghost,’ said Haleth. ‘Trust me.’

  The group fell silent. Out there, they were watching. Arshul felt a moment of pure guilt. Was this how his marks felt? Knowing he was coming for them and unable to do anything but note the sun travel across the sky
. Wait for the blade to issue through the ribs or the poison to take a hold. And die wondering who it was that had ordered their death at the hands of a paid stranger.

  The hoots and calls of monkeys and birds filled the air above. The buzz and chitter of insects brought a phantom itch to the ear. The undergrowth was alive. Animals took the opportunity to see what the rain had unearthed. They didn’t have long. Thunder rumbled above the canopy. Another downpour was coming.

  But out there, in the infinite shadows the rainforest provided, the enemy awaited the perfect moment. No doubt they would pick it. And the delay was having precisely the desired effect. The men were twitchy, wondering how long they would have to stand here. How long they had to live. Some would be thinking about escape.

  ‘A song, anyone?’ said Arshul.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ said a voice, nervous and small.

  ‘Not at all. Might break the mood. Get the blood flowing. Give us energy. Get our feet going and our courage together.’

  ‘Good idea, Arshul,’ said Haleth. ‘It’s about time this hell hole heard the beauty of Balaian song. A chorus of “Break the Chains”?’

  ‘We won’t be able to hear them coming.’

  ‘You won’t hear them anyway, not even if every beast in the forest fell silent and the sun dried the rain,’ growled One-Eye. ‘Sing, you bastards. And keep your eyes open.’

  Tentatively at first, but growing in volume, the battle chant rose. And with every word, Arshul felt warmer and stronger. He surprised even himself.

  ‘Blade aloft and arrow nocked

  Break the Chains!

  Break the Chains!

  Armour bright and soul alight

  Break the Chains!

  Break the Chains!

  Enemies hear and cower in fear

  Break the Chains!

  Break the Chains!

  Shake them, break them, bring them down

  Break the Chains!

  Break the Chains!’

  Warm fluid sprayed over Arshul’s face. He looked left. The one with the white face was in front of Jinosh, his fingers buried in Jinosh’s neck. Arshul brought up his blade. The white face dragged his fingers clear, the filed nails tearing out flesh. Jinosh screamed and fell forward. Arshul moved his blade to strike. The white face dropped to his knees. Feet ploughed into Arshul’s chest, driving him back onto the sodden ground.

  Arshul saw a blade flash. Another man cried out, clamping his hands to his midriff. Arshul was disoriented. He saw the TaiGethen’s feet lift from his chest. Noise exploded all around him. He heard the thud of bows but not the sound of a hit. Arshul tried to scramble to his feet. The elf was inside the ring. A blade came at him but he moved so fast the edge carved empty air.

  An archer dropped his bow, tried to get a knife. A palm slapped up into his nose, snapping his head back, smashing bone high up into his head. Haleth was shouting. Arshul made it to his haunches. The elf struck again, short sword taking a second archer through the eye.

  ‘Cast!’ yelled Haleth. ‘One of you bastards. Cast!’

  ‘At what?’ shrieked a mage, his voice tattered by fear.

  Every swordsman had turned now. And the elf had gone, springing up and out of the circle, using a vine to speed his progress. Arshul watched him, gaping because he could do nothing else. In the cloying confines of the rainforest, the elf moved without impediment. A creature at one with his environment. He brought his legs into a tuck, unwound it as he landed, spun and delivered a ferocious kick into the back of One-Eye’s neck. The big man crumpled, head flopping on his shattered vertebrae.

  ‘Turn, turn!’ yelled Haleth. They weren’t listening to him any more. The group scattered. ‘No! Stick together.’

  The pale face appeared again, as if stepping out of nowhere. He lashed his fingers across the face of a running mage, tearing out his eyes and sending him crashing into a tree. The TaiGethen pounced on another, landing two kicks more quickly than Arshul could follow and delivering a killing blow to the heart with his blade.

  Arshul began to back away. The elves were intent on those in front trying in vain to escape.

  ‘Stand with me,’ hissed Haleth.

  But the fire drops of terror were turning Arshul’s heart to ash and he shook his head.

  ‘No. You’ll be next. Alone I can hide, escape.’

  ‘You will never escape them alone.’

  ‘I can try. I’m sorry, Haleth.’

  Arshul clung to the threadbare remnants of his will and moved quietly away.

  ‘Stand, you bastard!’ roared Haleth. ‘Craven scum. Worthless piece of shit. Stand! Anybody. Stand with me!’

  Haleth didn’t come after him. Arshul knew he wouldn’t. Too much pride. Too much belief in the crew he had assembled. Look at that faith now. Being picked off, one after another. So Arshul, a very quiet man, a man used to leaving no trace, crept further away.

  The screams of terrified men, so like their womenfolk when all was said and done, echoed through a mist that rose from the forest floor. Arshul could track the enemy from the sounds of rushing in the undergrowth, growing a little more distant now. That and the feeble cries for help that would never come.

  Only Haleth still bellowed true defiance and his voice was taking on a curious quality now, seemingly coming from all points of the compass but gently, like the incoming tide in Korina Bay. A brave man. It was almost a shame to sacrifice him, but in the end there was only one option.

  You had to hand it to the elves. Just two of them if his eyes did not deceive him, and almost, almost, they would claim the full complement of twenty men. Impressive. But Arshul was a lone man. And his tally was far higher. His skill was consummate. And his tasks henceforth would be more suited to his talents.

  Arshul felt the reassuring bulk of a banyan tree trunk behind him and looked up into its welcoming branches. Death, so he was told, lurked amidst the twining boughs and the great rain-scooping leaves. Yet nothing so deadly and quick as that which stalked the forest floor.

  Arshul paused to listen. The forest had quietened once more. The work had been done. Haleth, like the rest, would be bleeding his last drop of life into the ever-hungry earth. There was poetry in that. It was something the elves believed and it was easy to see why.

  He looked down at his hands. They were quivering. Lucky he wasn’t being asked to shoot a bow this afternoon. He smiled. The forest had closed around him. Even he could not see where he had just been. Good. So still. Peaceful despite the drenching noise of animal life.

  Arshul turned to look for his first handholds. The elf stood very close, barely a pace away. Studying him. Arshul’s bladder let go and he had to cling onto his bowels. The elf’s eyes were cold with inevitability.

  Arshul knew that tears spilled down his cheeks. He knew his mouth was open to beg for mercy but all that emerged was a scream. The scream of a woman.

  Auum and Serrin looked down on the last of the men. Just as clumsy as the rest, though perhaps a little quieter. The blood had stopped flowing from his heart. The bubbles from his mouth, where his face lay half in the mud, had begun to burst.

  ‘We made a mistake letting the other one go. He is a leader of men. He can cause us problems. This one would have better suited us. A loner,’ said Auum.

  ‘No. The other will be heard, believed. Fear will grow.’

  Auum nodded. ‘There’s sense in that. Come on. The temple is a day from here.’

  Serrin was still looking down on the body of the mercenary.

  ‘There may be others,’ said Auum. ‘We need to warn the TaiGethen, prepare the temple. What is it?’

  ‘Someone helps them.’

  Auum nodded. ‘Or they’d never find the temple. I know. We will find whoever is behind this. Yniss will guide our hands. They cannot touch us here, my priest. This is our land.’

  Chapter 3

  Solitude is the harshest of punishments, for an elf is never alone, not even in death.

  ‘I saved as many of my people a
s I could.’

  You left countless thousands to die.

  ‘I had no choice.’

  You had the choice to stand and fight. But you turned and ran.

  ‘I was defending those I could save.’

  You were deserting those who needed you. You are a coward.

  ‘I am not—’

  Coward, craven, recreant. Gutless and exiled. You deserve to die. Why do you still draw breath?

  ‘Because Yniss, my lord god of harmony, wishes to punish me further by keeping me alive.’

  Pah! How convenient. Blame your god for your pathetic, self-pitying life. They turned from you the day you betrayed your people. They await the moment you drag up the courage to do what you should have done the day of your humiliation. The day the blood of so many innocents stained your hands.

  ‘I could not have done more.’

  You could have died in the service of the people who loved you. You should have. Give them that satisfaction now. Admit your guilt. Face your god. Know your true nature.

  Takaar turned from the stone on which his tormentor had chosen to sit, unable to stare the truth in the face any longer. Takaar watched the rushing waters of the River Shorth hundreds of feet below. Beguiling, even from such a height. The waters swirled and thrashed across and around the exposed rocks.

  Behind him, the immensity of the rainforest taunted him. Every creature that lived, breathed and died in the service of their god, Tual, set up a cacophony that rang through his head, muddying his reason.

  He raised his eyes to the sky, imploring Gyal to give him answers. And so she did, the god of rain unleashing a storm that drowned the calls of the forest and drummed on his head, cleansing and purifying. Calling forth his memories.

  Red light grew behind the mist. The song died away. The mist dispersed as if brushed aside by the hand of Yniss himself, displaying the enemy ranged against them. Along the parapet, warriors tensed. Takaar stared, aware of the current sweeping across the defending forces. He breathed deep, trying to calm his heart, which tolled hard in his chest.