Once walked with Gods e-1 Read online

  You judged them.

  Takaar’s hands shook and when he took them from his face, the wetness was from more than rain.

  You judged them. And most you found unworthy. Another excuse for your craven acts. Pushing aside the old and the sick to save your filthy life.

  ‘I did the only thing left to do. And some were saved.’

  Takaar’s voice set birds to flight in the lessening rain. He spun round to face his tormentor but the rock was empty. Empty as it always had been.

  You are alone. And you lie only to yourself.

  How often had these words played in his head. He knew what came next. He had heard it countless times before. His mouth moved in unison.

  ‘With courage so lacking you cannot even take your own life.’ ‘Are we standing or going out to meet them?’

  It was Pelyn again but from somewhere more distant.

  ‘All these lives,’ said Takaar, shaking his head and rubbing the backs of his hands across his eyes. ‘Is the evacuation complete?’

  ‘Complete?’ It was Katyett this time. Or he thought it was. His ears weren’t right. They were ringing and muted. ‘Pelyn told you. Ten more days to get them all through. We have to hold. Takaar. Decide.’

  ‘Decide what?’ he said. ‘Which way to die? Out there or in here. No way out. Yniss has deserted us.’

  Takaar smiled at Pelyn. She was staring at him. Confused.

  ‘You said…’

  ‘It’s too late.’ Takaar was shaking his head again. ‘It’s too late. I’m sorry. So sorry.’

  Takaar took a backward step. The rain had stopped. Gyal’s tears had ceased to flow. She turned her face from him once more and he deserved nothing less. Takaar glanced at the cliff top and the worn patch where he had stood, knowing he would be back. Knowing he had no choice.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow will be different.’

  He took his lies and ducked back under the dripping rainforest canopy. At Sildaan’s assurance that they were safe, Leeth led the temple priests out onto the apron. From the depths of the temple they had heard so little but the sense of wrong had pervaded every stone. When the cold had swept in, the priests had begun to pray. Leeth had felt sorry for them then and so he did now that they were outside their sanctuary and facing the first day of a new world. Or, more accurately, a return to the old one.

  Taking his first step out into the light and seeing the bodies of the TaiGethen on the ground and the frost still clinging to the shadowed crevices of the temple, Leeth realised he was not ready. The ugly shapes of men haunted the periphery of the apron. One stood with Sildaan. The leader, Garan.

  Behind Leeth, the five priests muttered and cursed. More prayers were uttered. Accompanying their anger was confusion. There stood Sildaan. One of their number. Standing with enemies amongst the mutilated bodies of Yniss’s finest warriors. The air smelled wrong. Tainted. That would be the magic Sildaan had spoken of, and on which she pinned such hope.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Leeth. He walked towards Sildaan. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘This is a fight for survival, Leeth,’ said Sildaan. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t realise that.’

  ‘And we win this fight by killing our own, do we?’

  ‘There will inevitably be sacrifice.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’

  ‘The TaiGethen will never join us. Ynissul or not, they are an impediment. We’ve discussed this. It is the only way.’

  ‘We discussed taking them prisoner,’ said Leeth.

  Sildaan laughed. ‘Oh yes, you mentioned that. I operate in the real world. Yet out of respect for you and them, I did offer them a way out. Guess the reaction that provoked?’

  ‘I can’t see a way that we’re doing the right thing.’ Leeth shook his head. ‘Me and you, we agree about what is happening here. We know we have to reinstate the old order, the right order. But there have to be enough of us left to rule. You know the problems the Ynissul face – that all elves face, come to that. We cannot afford to kill our brothers so casually. Not even the TaiGethen.’

  Sildaan stepped up to Leeth. She was taller than him. She was faster and better skilled too. But he would not flinch. Sildaan gazed deep into his eyes, trying to unsettle him.

  ‘We’ve been through this, Leeth. Those of our thread that stand against us are of no use to us. And we have to own the temple. We have to make a statement that will reverberate through the forest and into the cities. This is the right first step.’

  ‘Taking the temple, yes. Now Jarinn has left for Ysundeneth. But this? This is senseless slaughter. These were your friends. You’ve turned your back on too much. And now I look, I find it distasteful that we sully our temple with these men.’

  ‘You’ve lost your nerve, Leeth. These men will keep you alive. You need to work out where you stand.’

  Sildaan pushed Leeth in the chest with both hands. He staggered back, swiping at the steadying hands of Garan.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ he said.

  ‘Sildaan is right: you have to make a statement.’

  ‘What would you know of it, stranger?’

  Leeth spun round to stare at red eyes in a face bitten raw. Garan’s heavy brows distorted his forehead. Like them all he was powerful, wore the sort of heavy leathers and furs that were totally inappropriate for the rainforest, and carried weapons of little use beyond a clearing.

  ‘I see what needs doing. You want war; you need to provoke it, not ask it politely,’ said Garan.

  ‘We don’t want war. We-’

  ‘Leeth,’ Sildaan said, keeping her voice calm and quiet.

  Leeth tensed a little more and turned back to her.

  ‘You want this,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I want an end to the folly that is Takaar’s law, yes. We both do. And this is a message that will be heard across Calaius.’

  ‘You will bring them all down on us,’ hissed Leeth. ‘And their magic will not be enough. Subtlety, you said.’

  ‘This is hardly the place to be discussing this. Our allies do not need to hear us squabble.’

  But Leeth shook his head. Sildaan felt a wash of fury through her body.

  ‘They shouldn’t be here. None of them. This is our business.’

  ‘You know why,’ snapped Sildaan. ‘We need help. We are not numerous.’

  ‘And about to get less so.’

  Sildaan struck fast, her right fist breaking Leeth’s nose. Blood sprayed over her hand and began to run from his nostrils. Leeth jerked back and put both hands to his face. His eyes were wide and he coughed hard at the sudden pain.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘You’re not my damned conscience, Leeth. Yniss knows I don’t need anyone telling me what to do or how to act. I need to know you’re with us. I need to know you trust me. Well?’

  Leeth stared at her over his hands while blood ran down to his chin and dripped onto his jerkin. He tightened his fingers against his nose and moved the bone carefully back into place, provoking grunts from the men nearest him. Leeth didn’t so much as wince. When he was done, he removed his hands and let the blood run freely.

  ‘You and I have known each other for over eight hundred years,’ he said, his voice a little clogged. ‘And you know I won’t lie to you.’

  He spat blood onto the ground and wiped his mouth.

  Sildaan sighed. ‘Now might be a good time to start.’

  ‘Why? Sildaan, I know you better than this. What’s happened to you? We don’t need allies. We cannot trust them. This is not our way. They are not welcome and they will never be accepted. Who sanctioned their coming here to lend us their belligerent assistance anyway?’

  ‘What happened was that I realised time was short. Shorter than anyone standing over there in their pathetic huddle thinks. You know what’s going to happen in Ysundeneth, at the Gardaryn. Today. You need to learn to move with the times.’

  ‘But you’re talking about unravelling the harmony. Taking us back to the
War of Bloods. Why would you want that?’

  ‘Leeth, I hear you. But we need to move on. Please?’

  But she could see that he’d planted his feet. She groaned inwardly. He shook his head.

  ‘Fucking sharp-ears,’ muttered Garan.

  Leeth snapped. He was shorter and slighter than Garan but that did not make him any the less threatening. That much he knew. He spoke in the tongue of the northern continent.

  ‘What’s it to you, blink-life?’ Leeth stood a pace away from Garan. Space to strike and kill with his bare hands. ‘This is not your fight. This is not your land. You’ll get your dues whether you raise a blade or stand in the rain where we choose. We own you. Your lives are in our hands right now. We could disappear into our forest and you would never get out.

  ‘So I will stand and talk with my sister at the temple of my god for as long as I need. And should you choose to insult me again, I will kill you. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand,’ said Garan, speaking fluently in elvish. ‘I understand that standing here is wasting time you don’t have. I know that Sildaan is right and that those who refuse to see what is coming risk bringing disaster on the Ynissul.’

  ‘I have no need to debate this with you,’ said Leeth. ‘You are nothing. Hired muscle.’

  ‘You are driving me spare, Leeth,’ said Sildaan. ‘Why must you do this?’

  ‘Because we must do this right or we are betraying every elf and leaving scum like this to march unhindered into Yniss’s blessed country.’

  Sildaan beckoned him away from Garan.

  ‘What is it that you want, Leeth?’

  ‘I want you to promise me you will not strike down another Ynissul. TaiGethen or otherwise. I want you to accept you are not the arbiter of the fate of any of our people. You nor those above you. Sildaan?’

  ‘I cannot do that,’ said Sildaan, speaking quietly, voice barely audible over new rain falling in a torrent. ‘And I am desolate that I cannot make you understand why.’

  ‘Then I cannot walk with you,’ said Leeth, and there were tears in his eyes. ‘We cannot return to a rule by fear. It is you who must move with the times. We must command respect to be obeyed.’

  Sildaan walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt a surge of sadness. Almost grief.

  ‘I know. But we cannot achieve that goal without conflict. No elf will bend the knee simply because we ask them. Why won’t you see that?’

  ‘If they will not then we are not fit to rule again.’

  ‘Oh, Leeth. We cannot miss this chance because if we do we will be in thrall to Tualis or Beethans. They will not be so timid as you.’

  ‘Takaar has taught us that conflict is not the way forward. Whatever his failings, he was the one who ended the War of Bloods. This path will lead to disaster.’

  ‘Then you must follow a different one.’

  Sildaan pulled him into an embrace. After the briefest pause, he clung to her and began to weep. Not for a moment did he expect the knife which slid up under his ribs and pierced his heart. He gasped and clung on tighter.

  ‘Safe journey to the ancients. One day you will bless my way and we will walk again together.’

  Leeth felt no pain. His legs gave way and Sildaan knelt with him. He stared at her while she wiped blood from his mouth and nose.

  ‘Your way will see us all to death,’ managed Leeth.

  ‘Quiet now. Leave your hate here. Travel free.’

  Leeth’s eyes closed. He could not stop his body sliding to the ground. The stone was chill on his cheek. He prayed to Shorth to embrace his soul. Dimly, he felt Sildaan withdraw her knife. He could not muster any anger, just an overwhelming sadness.

  Leeth breathed in but blood was filling his lungs, drowning him. He tried to open his eyes but he had not the strength. He heard voices echoing around him.

  ‘Shorth, take your soul to the blessed embrace of Yniss. Let Tual’s denizens use your body. Let the forest reclaim you. Let your sacrifice not be in vain,’ said Sildaan.

  ‘It was the only option you had,’ said Garan.

  ‘I loved him. But what we face is greater than any love for one ula. You, I detest. Work out how much I value your life.’

  Leeth shed a single tear.

  Chapter 4

  Belief in your body is the root of survival. ‘Look at you, beautiful beast.’

  And look at you crawling on your belly like the reptile you love so well. Appropriate.

  Takaar twitched in anger, his legs rattling undergrowth. The snake turned in his direction, lifted and flattened its head. Its body curled in under it. It stared at him, deep brown iris surrounding a black pupil. Takaar stilled completely, ignoring the entreaties of his tormentor to reach out a hand and embrace his death at the bite of this stunning creature.

  Instead, he continued his study. Around him and across him, insects crawled and leeches clung. The taipan’s tongue sampled the air. It was better than eight feet long and a reddish dark brown in colour on its back and sides. Underneath, the scales were a yellower colour. It had a round, snouted head and its neck was quite dark, an almost glossy black.

  It could kill him if it so chose. Or it thought it could.

  ‘So shy,’ he whispered. ‘So powerful.’

  The most venomous in the forest, he thought, but that was still to be determined for sure.

  ‘Will you help me, I wonder? I will not hurt you, I promise.’

  The taipan relaxed its posture; its head moved back to the forest floor. It nosed into the leaf litter. Takaar came very slowly to a crouched position. The snake ignored him for the moment, intent on some prey or other.

  ‘But that will have to wait, deadly friend.’ Takaar chuckled. ‘First a test for you.’

  Takaar rustled a handful of leaves. The taipan was poised in an instant, no more than four feet from him. The pair stared at each other, the taipan’s body moving slowly beneath it. Takaar moved his body gently from side to side, noting the mirror movement of the snake’s raised neck.

  ‘Good,’ said Takaar. ‘Now then…’

  Takaar twitched his body. The taipan struck, head moving up and forward with astonishing speed. Takaar’s right hand shot out. His fist closed around the snake’s neck, right behind its head. Its jaws opened and shut, scant inches from Takaar’s face. Its body coiled and jerked, furious at its capture. Takaar held on. The snake coiled hard around his arm, squeezing.

  Takaar pressed his fingers against the hinges of the snake’s jaws, forcing them open. The taipan’s fangs were not long, less than an inch. Not hinged like some vipers he had examined. The inside of the mouth was pink and soft. So much death contained within. Takaar smiled.

  ‘You’re a fierce one, aren’t you? I’ve been wanting one of you for a long, long time, you know that? Hmm.’

  Takaar turned and walked back to his shelter, which lay a short distance inside the edge of the rainforest where the trees met the cliffs overlooking the glory of the delta at Verendii Tual. The air was fresher here, beyond the suffocating humidity deep under the canopy. His shelter had become a sprawling affair. Part skin bivouac, part thatch and mud building. He headed for the building, next to which stood his third and best attempt at a kiln. A few trial pots rested on a rack next to it.

  The taipan had relaxed, its struggles ceasing. Takaar could feel its weight on his arm. A fascinating creature. He glanced down at it. Those eyes stared where he determined, his grip on its head as firm as in that first moment. Takaar ducked his head and entered the building. It was dark inside but his eyes adjusted very quickly.

  Shame you didn’t choose to let it bite you. Why do you continue this pathetic charade?

  ‘If it was any of your business, which it isn’t, I would explain in greater detail. But suffice to say that the mind must be active or the inevitable descent to madness begins.’

  Begins? For you that journey is a fading memory.

  ‘Madness is subjective. All of us exhibit the signs to a greater or les
ser extent. I have some. So do you. It is the way of things. At least I am building something useful. What is it that you will leave behind you?’

  Your corpse being devoured by the beasts you worship.

  ‘I will leave truth.’

  And you have been so diligent in constructing your own truth, haven’t you?

  ‘Can we talk about this later? I’m a little busy.’

  I just fail to see why you pursue this folly. How can you leave a legacy in a place where no one will ever find it? That is why you’re here, right? To make sure no one ever finds you, alive or dead.

  ‘You miss the point of my penance.’

  I miss the point of your continued existence entirely.

  Takaar focused back on his task. There was a table along one wall of the building, the result of a number of experiments in binding legs to tabletops. The surface was a little rough and uneven, cut from a fallen hardwood tree, similarly the legs. They were notched and grooved to slot together and then bound with liana and some young strangler vine. The table rocked a little but it served.

  The tabletop was tidy. Obsessively so, said his tormentor, but it did not do to be confused about what lay in each of the small, wood-stoppered clay pots. They stood in rows down the left- and right-hand sides, leaving space in the centre for new work. He had etched a symbol into each stopper representing a particular herb or animal extract. He recorded the code, carving into pieces of hardwood he’d polished for the purpose.

  A single clay pot half the size of Takaar’s hand sat in the middle of the table. Across it was stretched and tied a circle of cloth from Takaar’s dwindling supply of fine fabric. He picked up the pot, forced open the jaws of the taipan and hooked its fangs over the lip of the vessel. The cloth triggered the bite reflex and the taipan released its venom against the side of the jar. Impossible to see exactly how much, but he carried on milking until the snake tried to withdraw.

  ‘There, my friend. No pain. You are one of Tual’s denizens and I have no wish for you to come to harm.’