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Synopsis
THE ELVES ARE ENSLAVED Calaius is occupied by an implacable, relentless enemy. The great elven cities are little more than prison camps. Elven slaves are forced to destroy their beloved rainforest to harvest timber for their masters. The enemy has no mercy, no honour and little skill in battle. The enemy is Man. Those few elves who remain free are fragmented, in squabbling factions, and they must unite before they can take a stand against Man. Many believe that the battle is already lost, but Auum is not one of them. He knows Men's numbers are great but their tactics are weak; he knows Men think the Elves are already beaten; he is convinced that his people must fight now, or see their race destroyed. Takaar disagrees. He believes Elven salvation lies in unlocking their magic, not in fighting pitched battles against Man. He is determined to save his people too, but his tactics are entirely different ... and if some Elves must die now to ensure Calaius will be free of Man in the future, it's a sacrifice he is willing to make. The Elves must choose their sides. Whatever they decide, victory will win their freedom ... and failure will mean extermination ...
Release date: February 16, 2012
Publisher: Gollancz
Print pages: 401
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Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen
James Barclay
Prologue
For a hundred and twenty years, the forest bled unchecked.
Serrin of the ClawBound
They stood together on the cliffs surrounding the Ultan and stared out across the rainforest. Helpless anger set Auum’s teeth to grind and his body to shiver. The scale
of the desecration was so vast it was hard to comprehend.
In the early years following the human invasion, when the elves were desperately weak and scattered throughout the rainforest, their enemy had been ruthless in their exploitation of the
resources they had come to steal. The damage was appalling, perhaps irreversible. Next to Auum, Serrin was trembling and his panther was nuzzling him, trying to comfort him.
‘Why do you put yourself through this?’ asked Auum.
‘Because you must understand what you allowed to happen. It is my duty to make you see.’
The rainforest had been obliterated for a full two miles from the borders of Ysundeneth. Magic had been used to clear the undergrowth. The devastation to the west had only been halted by swamp
and cliff, but then the humans had turned south and used the River Ix instead.
Roads followed the river for over seventy miles and barges pushed yet further up, carrying slave gangs into the heart of the forest to log wherever the banks offered a landing point. The river
was choked with the trunks of great old trees outside the lumber mills of Ysundeneth, which worked day and night.
Ships departed every day, taking Beeth’s precious wood north to Balaia, returning packed with more tools to commit yet greater atrocities at a yet greater pace. Auum knew it was the same
outside Calaius’ second and third cities. The forest was under attack across the northern coast. And where the trees still stood, the most valuable plants and flowers were harvested before
the axes began to fall.
Where the elves had always farmed the forest the humans destroyed it without a shrug, for reasons which held a horrible logic. An elf must necessarily look forward hundreds of years and would
always desire to look upon the beauty of the canopy. A human, whose life was over in a blink, required no such foresight.
Humans saw the vastness of the canopy and an endless supply of timber. They failed to realise the ramifications of harvesting so much of it and apparently cared less. Elves knew that the
balance, once critically undone, was gone for ever. It had not happened yet, but that time would come. Not this year, not the next, nor in the next decade. But it would come.
And so Serrin of the ClawBound had brought Auum to see what he knew in his heart but did not want to admit.
‘We are helpless to stop them,’ said Auum. ‘We are so few, and the cost our enslaved pay for our resistance is so great.’
‘So you will sit by and watch the humans destroy our world. You. Arch of the TaiGethen. Sworn to defend your country, your people and your faith.’
Auum sighed. Serrin had been running the rainforest with panthers and the other ClawBound for a hundred years, and it had taken a huge toll on his pure elven side. His reasoning seemed affected;
his vocabulary was diminished, and his faith was linked far more closely to Tual and Beeth than it was to Yniss.
‘You know it’s not that simple. My responsibility is the survival of the elven race. I have to look ahead, beyond the present and the crimes I am forced to witness. We can’t
defeat man, not yet. We have to build our strength in combat and magic. I hate it, but it’s reality.
‘Of course we could delay man’s rape of our forest. But for every man we kill, an innocent elf dies in agony in Ysundeneth. I am responsible for those lives, just as I am for those
elves who remain free.’
Serrin regarded him evenly and shrugged. ‘When the cities are empty of slaves, who will they visit their revenge upon?’
‘Look beyond your hunting grounds,’ said Auum sharply. ‘When the cities are empty of slaves, there will be too few elves to rebuild our people. We need them and the Katurans or
we will die out.’
‘The Ynissul are immortal.’
Auum faced Serrin and the sadness that swept him was akin to grief. ‘You do not believe that the Ynissul can hope to survive alone. You were a Silent Priest, an adept of the harmony, a
lover of every elven thread.’
‘Look at our forest,’ said Serrin. ‘Look at the pace of desecration. The humans will kill us one way or another. There will come a day when your words will no longer hold the
ClawBound at bay. I hope you will be ready to stand by us when that day comes.’
Auum watched Serrin and his panther move smoothly away to the narrow paths down to the forest floor. Night was falling and Auum watched as it covered the enormity of man’s crimes. He
remained, and prayed to Yniss for guidance, until the sun kissed the land once again and recoiled at the horror it touched.
Chapter 1
After a hundred and fifty years, the bleeding had to be staunched.
Serrin of the ClawBound
Auum dropped to a crouch, a curt hand gesture bidding his Tais do likewise. Down here in the leaf litter, dense scrub and brush, the echoes of animals high in the rainforest
canopy were muted. Alien sounds met the ear unsullied.
Auum turned back towards the temple at Aryndeneth. The sound he’d heard had been distant and none of the five who faced him had registered it. They were all promising adepts and soon to be
placed in active TaiGethen cells for the first time. All were on course to be cell leaders in a decade, maybe two.
Auum studied their faces while they awaited his words, their eyes shining with the honour he bestowed on them with his presence as their teacher. Their admiration embarrassed him but they
listened well. Their camouflage had been painted on their faces in the correct manner; in deference to Yniss, father of them all, to Beeth, god of root and branch and to the rituals of the
TaiGethen warrior.
None of them displayed fear. Auum knew why: because they were with him. With Auum, who had faced the Garonin and survived. Auum, who had found Takaar and fought by his side to free the elves of
Ysundeneth. Auum, the Arch of the TaiGethen. Immortal.
‘But not invincible,’ he murmured. They should be as scared as he was. ‘What do you hear?’
Each of them strained to detect the sound their tutor had already heard. He knew what they would be doing: filtering out the sounds of Tual’s creatures as best they could. His students
must also ignore the breeze, the fall of leaves and the sound of rainwater dripping to the forest floor. The sounds that remained gave Auum reason to shudder.
‘It is too big to be a bird,’ said Elyss, the best of them. She was heading for greatness. ‘And there are many of them.’
‘How many?’ asked Auum.
Elyss cocked her head once more. ‘Twenty.’
‘Twenty-two,’ corrected Auum. He turned to the others. ‘Excellent. Do you concur?’
Three of the TaiGethen students nodded.
‘I am shamed that I can hear nothing of this,’ said Malaar, letting his gaze drop.
Auum smiled. ‘There is no shame. But there will be combat. Elyss can hear mages on their wings of shade. They are coming to Aryndeneth, and we might just get there before them. Five-pace
spread, attack on sight. Tais, we move.’
With every pace Auum could feel the enemy closing, as if they were walking up the length of his back. The pace of the TaiGethen was matched only by the panther under the canopy. Above them,
though, where the dense vegetation and the grasping vines and roots were mere myth and rumour, the humans’ speed was unhindered.
High in the upper reaches of the canopy, bird calls charted waypoints in the enemy’s progress. Hawk eagle cries pierced the clear sky. Toucan bills clacked out a staccato message of threat
and fell silent when the shadows fell across their steepling perches.
In the mid-level, the melodic calls of gibbons took on a desperate quality as they tried to reaffirm their territory against the approach of a new and terrifying invader. Everywhere, bird, beast
and lizard shrilled, growled or chittered. Each sound was a call to hide or flee.
Auum looked to his right. Elyss flitted through the dense undergrowth. Her footfalls were light, the passage of her body barely disturbing bush or branch, her breathing measured and calm. And
when the mages passed overhead, with the TaiGethen still a hundred paces short of the temple apron, Auum saw her react, glance skywards and increase her pace.
She felt it all. She was tuned to all that surrounded her and her mind was open to the forest, each message received through her ears, her feet and soaking into her skin. Elyss was the future.
More and more like her were being born. They were the TaiGethen of tomorrow.
‘They are ahead of us,’ said Auum, his voice carrying to his people and no further. ‘But they must still descend through the canopy.’
‘We must call to warn the temple guard,’ said Tiiraj from Auum’s left.
‘They should need no warning and the humans must not know of our approach.’ Auum reached down to his belt. ‘Jaqrui pouches open. Choose your targets carefully.’
Auum slid between the balsa and fig trees that guarded the approach to Aryndeneth, the Earth Home. Growing tightly together, bound by vine and liana and by ivy which trailed to snag at clothes
and grab at careless feet, they were impenetrable to any man without a blade.
Fifty paces out, Auum could see the walls of the domed temple glinting in the last of the sunlight before the clouds closed overhead and the rains came again. Gold and green and covered with
creepers and climbers, the temple walls were a sight to gladden the heart of any elf fortunate enough to lay eyes upon them. Sanctuary.
Auum and his Tais would break from the rainforest at the right-hand edge of the temple apron. With every pace they closed, Auum could see and hear more. Figures were running from left to right,
towards the temple. Other figures darted into cover positions: the Al-Arynaar. Auum felt a small measure of comfort on seeing them; his work training the temple guard had not been in vain.
Twenty paces out, the rainforest shook with explosions and was lashed with sheets of blue fire. Debris flew into the canopy. Splinters of stone and wood sliced into trunk, branch and leaf,
whining and whistling through the air towards Auum and his Tais. Auum threw himself prone behind the bole of a balsa tree as the lethal hail scoured Beeth’s root and branch around him.
As quickly as it had begun it was gone and an eerie quiet descended, punctuated only by the cries of wounded animals and the screams of terrified elves within the temple. Auum moved smoothly
back to his feet, noting the sound of his five Tai rising with him.
‘Focus your anger,’ he whispered.
The TaiGethen moved soundlessly onto the temple apron. Men crowded it. Men with swords were running towards the sealed temple doors, which still held but bore the scars of the first wave of
spells. Others flanked them, driving towards the Al-Arynaar. Behind the human warriors, mages strode across the stone apron, defiling the sacred ground of Yniss with every footfall.
Above the back of the temple, Auum saw more mages descend on the village that nestled in its shadow. Each pair carried a warrior between them. He drew a sharp breath. An arrow flew from the left
of the temple, taking a mage in the throat. Immediately, three others turned and opened their hands. Deep blue orbs shot with white and red threads flashed away.
Auum saw the Al-Arynaar nock another arrow and shoot at the nearest of the orbs. The shaft vaporised halfway towards its target and, in the next breath, the orbs struck the archer, the corner of
the temple and the forest adjoining it alike before flame exploded from them, turning wood, flesh and bone to ash.
More spells sprang from the open palms and outstretched fingers of mages. Fire crashed into the doors of the temple, making the timbers groan. Flames caught hold. The TaiGethen could feel Yniss
roar his fury through the tremors in the ground.
Auum attacked.
His feet whispered across the apron. His Tais were with him, spreading across the stone to strike. Auum chose a jaqrui from his pouch, cocking his arm and throwing on the run. The crescent blade
whipped away, holes along its length catching the air and singing its mourning wail. Mages turned their heads, just as he needed them to. His target saw his death coming the instant before it
struck him on the bridge of his nose and sliced into both eyes.
Five more jaqruis flew, striking unarmoured bodies, carving into hands and arms raised to protect faces, and thudding deep into guts and chests. Human blood spattered across the stone. Human
voices were raised in alarm. Warriors turned to run back to their magical charges.
Auum sprinted across the open space. Four mages were down. Eight remained, facing their assailants. Auum identified four actively casting. The others were lost to panic and posed no imminent
danger. To Auum’s right, Elyss had drawn a blade. She powered into a pair of casting mages. Her sword took the ear from one and drove on down into his shoulder, as her elbow jabbed up into
the throat of the other.
Auum took two more paces and leapt, his left leg straight, right leg cocked beneath him. His foot smashed into the head of his target, poleaxing him. Still airborne, he drew both blades from
their back-mounted scabbards, drew his left leg back and hacked down to his left and right, feeling both blades bite into flesh.
Auum landed amidst the humans. Malaar landed on one knee next to him, spinning and stabbing into an enemy’s groin, then surged to his feet and slashed one blade through the neck of a
second, then buried the other in the gut of a third.
Auum nodded his approval and turned to face the warriors. He cursed. Flames were rising from the village behind the temple. Screams echoed beneath the canopy. The warriors were hacking open the
temple doors. The spells had cracked the timbers, melted the hinges and lock, and now men were trying to do the rest.
‘Elyss!’ called Auum. ‘My right. Tais, head around the temple. Clear the village.’
Auum ran towards the doors, seeing the six warriors drag them wide enough to get inside while the flames ate at the ruined timbers. Elyss was at his right shoulder. Auum slipped through the
doors, his nose catching the sick stench of magic and fire, and into the cool darkness of the temple.
Beneath the great dome, the statue of Yniss knelt by the harmonic pool as it had done for over a thousand years. The waters still ran from beneath Yniss’ outstretched hand, their sound
melodic and beautiful. But it was eclipsed by the harsh shouts of men and the desecrating slap of their boots on the blessed stone. The warriors had split up to run around both sides of the pool,
heading for the passageway that led through the temple to the rear doors and out into the village.
Auum could see priests and Ynissul adepts in the shadows, helpless and frightened, trapped between the men coming around the pool towards them and those behind them in the village. Auum ran for
the edge of the pool. He planted his left foot and leapt into the air, tucking and turning his body in a forward roll, blades held away from him. He unwound in flight and landed soundlessly between
the two groups of warriors, a blade held out towards each trio.
‘You will travel no further,’ he hissed.
At least one of them understood him. His response was a laugh.
‘One elf cannot stop us,’ he said in passable common elvish.
The men ran on. Auum stepped up towards the passage to meet them as Elyss flew through the air feet first and thumped into the left-hand group, bringing two down and sending the third stumbling
into the wall.
‘One?’ said Auum. ‘A TaiGethen is never alone.’
Auum left Elyss to her work, hefted his blades and waited. The remaining three men came on, fuelled by the sight of their comrades dying. Their desire to reach their friends made them careless.
A blade swung out waist-high. Auum ducked beneath it, coming up in its wake and stabbing the warrior through the centre of his gut, leaving the blade where it stuck, buried to its hilt.
The man stumbled back. Auum moved into the half-pace of space and reversed his other blade into the back of the second warrior’s neck. The third turned, belatedly tracking Auum’s
movement. Auum swung round. His right fist whipped out, smashing the warrior’s nose. The human brought his blade to ready, blood pouring over his mouth, his eyes betraying his surprise and
pain.
For a heartbeat Auum considered letting him be the one to live and carry the story back to his masters.
‘But it should be one who can fly,’ he said.
Auum swayed outside a clumsy strike and calmly slid his blade into the warrior’s chest, then turned from the falling body and retrieved his second blade. He cleaned both on the clothes of
the dead and sheathed them. Elyss had finished her three and was moving up the passageway. Auum ran after her, gesturing priests and adepts aside.
‘Stay under cover. Wait for my word that it is safe.’
Auum and Elyss ran for the rear doors, passing chambers, scripture rooms and sleeping cells, most with elves hiding within them. They were still ten yards from the doors when they burst open, a
flood of workers, civilians, adepts . . . of ordinary elves spilling in, climbing over each other to escape the enemy at their backs.
The air chilled and Auum cursed.
‘Clear!’ he yelled. He shoved Elyss hard, sending her tumbling into a contemplation chamber and diving after her. A gale of harrowing cold howled down the passageway. Elven screams
were cut off as if a door had been slammed shut against them.
Auum shivered and rolled onto his back. Ice rimed the door of the chamber and lay thick on the floor and ceiling of the passageway. It climbed the walls to create a frozen blue tunnel.
Detonations outside shook the temple, where more screams filled the air. Inside the temple, the silence told its own story.
Auum pushed himself to his feet and ran out, slithering on the icebound floor. He dropped to a crouch, scrabbling with hand and foot to make headway towards the doors and the village. Elyss
followed more slowly. Ahead of him, the passage was clogged with the bodies of defenceless Ynissul elves frozen in the attitudes of their slaughter. Hands outstretched for help, mouths open in
screams of brief agony.
Beyond them, mages stood framed in the doorway. They were casting. Auum tried to increase his pace but the ice on the floor gave him precious little purchase. He snatched a jaqrui from his belt
and threw it backhanded. The blade whispered away, thudding into a mage’s legs. He cried out and fell. The three others opened their palms to cast, and Auum commended his soul to Yniss.
A shadow passed across the doors; the castings were never released. A figure whipped in from the left. One mage was decapitated, his head bouncing and sliding across the ice of the temple floor.
The head came to rest at Auum’s feet, its eyes staring into his, its final confusion fading away.
Auum spat on the face and lifted his gaze to the doors. The elf who stood there had a wildness about his expression that he would never lose. Nor would he lose the haunted look in his eyes.
Swords were dripping blood in his hands, and at his feet human mages were bleeding and dying.
‘You took your time,’ said Auum. ‘Perhaps a little more practice is required.’
The elf ignored him, muttered to himself and knelt at the body of a still-breathing mage.
‘You will take the tale of your failure to your masters,’ he said. ‘But only after you have told me what I desire to know.’
Auum shook his head and began to walk towards the door. He felt Elyss come to his side. Together, they moved past the elf and into the burning village.
‘Is that . . . ?’ asked Elyss.
‘Yes,’ said Auum. ‘It is Takaar. Or what’s left of him.’
Auum led Elyss into the fresh rainfall to witness the carnage the human magic had created.
Chapter 2
The journey from Silent Priest to ClawBound is short in distance but infinite in solace for the soul. A ClawBound will always remember. That is the price he must pay for
the joy of genuine union with the most glorious of Tual’s creatures.
From ClawBound and Silent, by Lysael, High Priest of Yniss
Auum indulged in a moment of pride. His TaiGethen students had reacted like veterans. They had killed without error and saved the lives of dozens of innocents. They moved
through the village now, readying the dead for removal to the Hallows of Reclamation. They offered comfort to the injured and grieving and administered balms to wounds where they could.
Fires still burned in a few houses. The magical flame was difficult to extinguish but with Gyal’s tears falling they would spread no further. Auum walked back into the temple. The ice had
melted quickly, leaving the stones wet and slick. Every chamber held priests at prayer and he could hear plainsong coming from within the dome. It was a dirge for the dead and a chant for the
vengeance of Shorth to be visited upon the souls of the enemy.
Back in the dome, Auum walked around the pool and past the priests and adepts kneeling at its edges to sing. A lone figure was standing at the burned, sundered doors of the temple. Auum joined
her and followed her gaze as it travelled over the bloodstained apron, still littered with the bodies of human mages.
‘I am sorry we were not here to save more of your people, Onelle,’ said Auum.
Onelle gave a dry, mirthless laugh and placed a hand on Auum’s arm.
‘Without you, many more would be dead and the plight of all elves would be that much worse.’
Auum looked at Onelle and saw the haunting knowledge in her eyes. She was an Ynissul who had suffered so much and in whom so much faith and trust was placed. She was the first and most advanced
practitioner of the Il-Aryn, One Earth, the name given to the fledgling elvish magic. It had aged even her and she was Ynissul, immortal. Grey dominated her hair, which had thinned, giving her a
taut and severe look when she brushed it back from her face.
Onelle’s face was deeply lined and her eyes, still green and rich with the health of her soul, were edged with darkness by the weight of a task which kept her from proper rest. But her
mind was strong and her desire to learn and to impart that learning had grown in the hundred and fifty years since her escape from Ysundeneth and the awakening of the power within her.
‘How many did we lose?’ asked Auum.
Onelle took a shuddering breath. ‘We have counted fourteen adepts. More are gravely wounded. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that our orientation class is in the field. Those
twenty-eight were saved by their absence.’
Onelle let her head drop. Auum knew she was crying but he needed to know more.
‘What is left of the development and practitioner classes?’
Onelle shook her head. ‘Gone. And worse, we knew this would happen.’
‘What?’
‘We knew they would find us if we tested our powers. They can smell the use of the Il-Aryn. They can track it like a panther tracks a deer in the depths of night. We’d been so
careful until now.’
‘You can’t blame yourself. You have no choice but to test.’
Onelle stared up at Auum and the smile she forced through her tears broke his heart. ‘And we found ourselves so terribly wanting, didn’t we?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We were trying to generate a shield against magical attack,’ said Onelle. ‘I was so confident. We had worked so hard. And then they came and cast a single spell and our shield
crumbled. They all died.’
‘Who?’ asked Auum.
‘The practitioner class. All of them but me. Along with all of the development class, who were watching and learning and were caught in the blast. So much work, so much time and it was all
for nothing. All wasted. I’m so sorry.’
‘No effort you make is ever wasted,’ said Auum, though a dead weight sat in his chest at her words. ‘We can rebuild.’
‘Those still trapped in Ysundeneth don’t have the time. We all know that.’
‘They are in no danger if they cause no trouble.’
‘They’re slaves!’ Onelle’s voice rang harshly from the temple walls. ‘We swore to free them.’
‘And we will. Yniss will guide us. Don’t lose your faith.’
‘Auum, you don’t understand.’ Onelle was laughing through her tears. It was a bitter sound. ‘We have been learning how to harness the Il-Aryn for almost a hundred and
fifty years, ever since the soul of Ix was awakened in some of us. And in all that time we are nowhere. Don’t you see?
‘All ten of the practitioner class were building the same casting. One human mage blew it apart, and killed them all in a heartbeat. We have no power, no knowledge, which can possibly
stand against human magic. It will be centuries before we can stand with you and defend you from their fire and their ice and all the evil they can bring to bear.
‘By then, the elves will be lost. Gone or dying out. What is happening at Katura is a symptom of a disease that will sweep us all away. Humans will rule Calaius.’
Auum bridled. Onelle’s words had laid bare the scale of the gulf between human and elven magic and ripped the veil of hope from his eyes. But despite that he would not turn meekly from his
task.
‘No human will rule my country,’ he said. ‘Katura has slipped into a malaise born of a yearning for things long gone. It is you and I and those we lead who must secure the
future of our people. You cannot fall prey to despair. There is always something that can be done. Accelerate your learning. I will accelerate the training of my students.
‘What can I do to help you?’
Onelle wiped at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. It is hard. All that effort, and they snuffed us out so easily. All our confidence and belief in our ability is exposed as a sham.’
‘I can promise you that TaiGethen will once again stand at Aryndeneth as sentinels against desecration. The Al-Arynaar will stand with us. No elf will die at this temple again.’
Onelle nodded. ‘At least those of us still alive will sleep better tonight. But there are so few of us now. We must find more adepts. More potential we can explore.’
Auum watched Onelle begin to think again and with those thoughts came hope. ‘Then we will find more, and we will send them to you.’
‘How do you do it?’ asked Onelle.
‘Do what?’
‘Keep your spirit so strong and your soul free of doubt.’
Auum frowned and for a moment could not frame an answer. ‘Because I have never questioned my faith or the virtue of my mission. This is our land, our rainforest. I will not rest until all
our people are free and man’s stench has been scoured from every corner. Calaius was given to us by Yniss. No human can take it from us.’
A movement in the canopy at the far edge of the apron caught his eye. It was nothing but a shadow against the light, invisible to all but the sharpest of rainforest predators. He began to run,
his last words to Onelle spoken over his shoulder.
‘Believe and we cannot fail. Tend to your people.’
Auum’s heart was beating hard in his chest. It had been the merest glint of an eye but he knew who it was, what it was, he had seen.
‘Stop!’ called Auum. ‘Speak to me. Tell me what you felt. Please. You are ClawBound but you are still an elf. Stop!’
But the shadow was gone. Elf and panther had melted away into the canopy.
‘Serrin!’ called Auum. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? Please help me. I am Auum. Remember me.’
Auum stood at the edge of the apron, his emotions choking his thoughts and a brief hope of contact quickly extinguished. He stared into the forest, hoping against all reason to see Serrin
walking towards him.
‘Damn,’ he said. He frowned. ‘What were you doing here?’
Auum turned back towards the temple. Elyss and Tiiraj were trotting towards him.
‘Where are the others?’
‘Malaar is working with the priests, preparing the dead for reclamation. Wirann and Gyneev are tending the wounded. A lot of burns. We don’t have enough balm.’
‘The priests will provide. How many of the injured will survive?’ asked Auum.
‘How far can a TaiGethen jump?’ responded Tiiraj. ‘Olmaat survived burns that should kill any elf. It depends less on the wound, more on the spirit and the will.’
‘That is not an answer. How many have burns that should kill them? How many should live because their wounds are superficial?’
Tiiraj jerked his head back towards the temple. ‘I think you should come and make that determination for yourself.’
Auum shrugged and gestured for them to precede him, and they trotted into the cool of the temple. The stone flags surrounding the harmonic pool were covered with wounded adepts and priests. The
stink of charred flesh was in the air and the dome echoed mournfully with moans of pain.
Auum walked slowly around the dome, kneeling by each victim to speak words of comfort or join the prayers when the priests’ ministrations could not save their patients.
At the end of his circuit, Auum understood why Tiiraj had been so uncertain. He had seen those with hideous wounds across their faces, clothes burned into their bodies and hands scorched almost
to the bone whose eyes shone with a fury and an energy that would drive their survival. And he had seen those with relatively
For a hundred and twenty years, the forest bled unchecked.
Serrin of the ClawBound
They stood together on the cliffs surrounding the Ultan and stared out across the rainforest. Helpless anger set Auum’s teeth to grind and his body to shiver. The scale
of the desecration was so vast it was hard to comprehend.
In the early years following the human invasion, when the elves were desperately weak and scattered throughout the rainforest, their enemy had been ruthless in their exploitation of the
resources they had come to steal. The damage was appalling, perhaps irreversible. Next to Auum, Serrin was trembling and his panther was nuzzling him, trying to comfort him.
‘Why do you put yourself through this?’ asked Auum.
‘Because you must understand what you allowed to happen. It is my duty to make you see.’
The rainforest had been obliterated for a full two miles from the borders of Ysundeneth. Magic had been used to clear the undergrowth. The devastation to the west had only been halted by swamp
and cliff, but then the humans had turned south and used the River Ix instead.
Roads followed the river for over seventy miles and barges pushed yet further up, carrying slave gangs into the heart of the forest to log wherever the banks offered a landing point. The river
was choked with the trunks of great old trees outside the lumber mills of Ysundeneth, which worked day and night.
Ships departed every day, taking Beeth’s precious wood north to Balaia, returning packed with more tools to commit yet greater atrocities at a yet greater pace. Auum knew it was the same
outside Calaius’ second and third cities. The forest was under attack across the northern coast. And where the trees still stood, the most valuable plants and flowers were harvested before
the axes began to fall.
Where the elves had always farmed the forest the humans destroyed it without a shrug, for reasons which held a horrible logic. An elf must necessarily look forward hundreds of years and would
always desire to look upon the beauty of the canopy. A human, whose life was over in a blink, required no such foresight.
Humans saw the vastness of the canopy and an endless supply of timber. They failed to realise the ramifications of harvesting so much of it and apparently cared less. Elves knew that the
balance, once critically undone, was gone for ever. It had not happened yet, but that time would come. Not this year, not the next, nor in the next decade. But it would come.
And so Serrin of the ClawBound had brought Auum to see what he knew in his heart but did not want to admit.
‘We are helpless to stop them,’ said Auum. ‘We are so few, and the cost our enslaved pay for our resistance is so great.’
‘So you will sit by and watch the humans destroy our world. You. Arch of the TaiGethen. Sworn to defend your country, your people and your faith.’
Auum sighed. Serrin had been running the rainforest with panthers and the other ClawBound for a hundred years, and it had taken a huge toll on his pure elven side. His reasoning seemed affected;
his vocabulary was diminished, and his faith was linked far more closely to Tual and Beeth than it was to Yniss.
‘You know it’s not that simple. My responsibility is the survival of the elven race. I have to look ahead, beyond the present and the crimes I am forced to witness. We can’t
defeat man, not yet. We have to build our strength in combat and magic. I hate it, but it’s reality.
‘Of course we could delay man’s rape of our forest. But for every man we kill, an innocent elf dies in agony in Ysundeneth. I am responsible for those lives, just as I am for those
elves who remain free.’
Serrin regarded him evenly and shrugged. ‘When the cities are empty of slaves, who will they visit their revenge upon?’
‘Look beyond your hunting grounds,’ said Auum sharply. ‘When the cities are empty of slaves, there will be too few elves to rebuild our people. We need them and the Katurans or
we will die out.’
‘The Ynissul are immortal.’
Auum faced Serrin and the sadness that swept him was akin to grief. ‘You do not believe that the Ynissul can hope to survive alone. You were a Silent Priest, an adept of the harmony, a
lover of every elven thread.’
‘Look at our forest,’ said Serrin. ‘Look at the pace of desecration. The humans will kill us one way or another. There will come a day when your words will no longer hold the
ClawBound at bay. I hope you will be ready to stand by us when that day comes.’
Auum watched Serrin and his panther move smoothly away to the narrow paths down to the forest floor. Night was falling and Auum watched as it covered the enormity of man’s crimes. He
remained, and prayed to Yniss for guidance, until the sun kissed the land once again and recoiled at the horror it touched.
Chapter 1
After a hundred and fifty years, the bleeding had to be staunched.
Serrin of the ClawBound
Auum dropped to a crouch, a curt hand gesture bidding his Tais do likewise. Down here in the leaf litter, dense scrub and brush, the echoes of animals high in the rainforest
canopy were muted. Alien sounds met the ear unsullied.
Auum turned back towards the temple at Aryndeneth. The sound he’d heard had been distant and none of the five who faced him had registered it. They were all promising adepts and soon to be
placed in active TaiGethen cells for the first time. All were on course to be cell leaders in a decade, maybe two.
Auum studied their faces while they awaited his words, their eyes shining with the honour he bestowed on them with his presence as their teacher. Their admiration embarrassed him but they
listened well. Their camouflage had been painted on their faces in the correct manner; in deference to Yniss, father of them all, to Beeth, god of root and branch and to the rituals of the
TaiGethen warrior.
None of them displayed fear. Auum knew why: because they were with him. With Auum, who had faced the Garonin and survived. Auum, who had found Takaar and fought by his side to free the elves of
Ysundeneth. Auum, the Arch of the TaiGethen. Immortal.
‘But not invincible,’ he murmured. They should be as scared as he was. ‘What do you hear?’
Each of them strained to detect the sound their tutor had already heard. He knew what they would be doing: filtering out the sounds of Tual’s creatures as best they could. His students
must also ignore the breeze, the fall of leaves and the sound of rainwater dripping to the forest floor. The sounds that remained gave Auum reason to shudder.
‘It is too big to be a bird,’ said Elyss, the best of them. She was heading for greatness. ‘And there are many of them.’
‘How many?’ asked Auum.
Elyss cocked her head once more. ‘Twenty.’
‘Twenty-two,’ corrected Auum. He turned to the others. ‘Excellent. Do you concur?’
Three of the TaiGethen students nodded.
‘I am shamed that I can hear nothing of this,’ said Malaar, letting his gaze drop.
Auum smiled. ‘There is no shame. But there will be combat. Elyss can hear mages on their wings of shade. They are coming to Aryndeneth, and we might just get there before them. Five-pace
spread, attack on sight. Tais, we move.’
With every pace Auum could feel the enemy closing, as if they were walking up the length of his back. The pace of the TaiGethen was matched only by the panther under the canopy. Above them,
though, where the dense vegetation and the grasping vines and roots were mere myth and rumour, the humans’ speed was unhindered.
High in the upper reaches of the canopy, bird calls charted waypoints in the enemy’s progress. Hawk eagle cries pierced the clear sky. Toucan bills clacked out a staccato message of threat
and fell silent when the shadows fell across their steepling perches.
In the mid-level, the melodic calls of gibbons took on a desperate quality as they tried to reaffirm their territory against the approach of a new and terrifying invader. Everywhere, bird, beast
and lizard shrilled, growled or chittered. Each sound was a call to hide or flee.
Auum looked to his right. Elyss flitted through the dense undergrowth. Her footfalls were light, the passage of her body barely disturbing bush or branch, her breathing measured and calm. And
when the mages passed overhead, with the TaiGethen still a hundred paces short of the temple apron, Auum saw her react, glance skywards and increase her pace.
She felt it all. She was tuned to all that surrounded her and her mind was open to the forest, each message received through her ears, her feet and soaking into her skin. Elyss was the future.
More and more like her were being born. They were the TaiGethen of tomorrow.
‘They are ahead of us,’ said Auum, his voice carrying to his people and no further. ‘But they must still descend through the canopy.’
‘We must call to warn the temple guard,’ said Tiiraj from Auum’s left.
‘They should need no warning and the humans must not know of our approach.’ Auum reached down to his belt. ‘Jaqrui pouches open. Choose your targets carefully.’
Auum slid between the balsa and fig trees that guarded the approach to Aryndeneth, the Earth Home. Growing tightly together, bound by vine and liana and by ivy which trailed to snag at clothes
and grab at careless feet, they were impenetrable to any man without a blade.
Fifty paces out, Auum could see the walls of the domed temple glinting in the last of the sunlight before the clouds closed overhead and the rains came again. Gold and green and covered with
creepers and climbers, the temple walls were a sight to gladden the heart of any elf fortunate enough to lay eyes upon them. Sanctuary.
Auum and his Tais would break from the rainforest at the right-hand edge of the temple apron. With every pace they closed, Auum could see and hear more. Figures were running from left to right,
towards the temple. Other figures darted into cover positions: the Al-Arynaar. Auum felt a small measure of comfort on seeing them; his work training the temple guard had not been in vain.
Twenty paces out, the rainforest shook with explosions and was lashed with sheets of blue fire. Debris flew into the canopy. Splinters of stone and wood sliced into trunk, branch and leaf,
whining and whistling through the air towards Auum and his Tais. Auum threw himself prone behind the bole of a balsa tree as the lethal hail scoured Beeth’s root and branch around him.
As quickly as it had begun it was gone and an eerie quiet descended, punctuated only by the cries of wounded animals and the screams of terrified elves within the temple. Auum moved smoothly
back to his feet, noting the sound of his five Tai rising with him.
‘Focus your anger,’ he whispered.
The TaiGethen moved soundlessly onto the temple apron. Men crowded it. Men with swords were running towards the sealed temple doors, which still held but bore the scars of the first wave of
spells. Others flanked them, driving towards the Al-Arynaar. Behind the human warriors, mages strode across the stone apron, defiling the sacred ground of Yniss with every footfall.
Above the back of the temple, Auum saw more mages descend on the village that nestled in its shadow. Each pair carried a warrior between them. He drew a sharp breath. An arrow flew from the left
of the temple, taking a mage in the throat. Immediately, three others turned and opened their hands. Deep blue orbs shot with white and red threads flashed away.
Auum saw the Al-Arynaar nock another arrow and shoot at the nearest of the orbs. The shaft vaporised halfway towards its target and, in the next breath, the orbs struck the archer, the corner of
the temple and the forest adjoining it alike before flame exploded from them, turning wood, flesh and bone to ash.
More spells sprang from the open palms and outstretched fingers of mages. Fire crashed into the doors of the temple, making the timbers groan. Flames caught hold. The TaiGethen could feel Yniss
roar his fury through the tremors in the ground.
Auum attacked.
His feet whispered across the apron. His Tais were with him, spreading across the stone to strike. Auum chose a jaqrui from his pouch, cocking his arm and throwing on the run. The crescent blade
whipped away, holes along its length catching the air and singing its mourning wail. Mages turned their heads, just as he needed them to. His target saw his death coming the instant before it
struck him on the bridge of his nose and sliced into both eyes.
Five more jaqruis flew, striking unarmoured bodies, carving into hands and arms raised to protect faces, and thudding deep into guts and chests. Human blood spattered across the stone. Human
voices were raised in alarm. Warriors turned to run back to their magical charges.
Auum sprinted across the open space. Four mages were down. Eight remained, facing their assailants. Auum identified four actively casting. The others were lost to panic and posed no imminent
danger. To Auum’s right, Elyss had drawn a blade. She powered into a pair of casting mages. Her sword took the ear from one and drove on down into his shoulder, as her elbow jabbed up into
the throat of the other.
Auum took two more paces and leapt, his left leg straight, right leg cocked beneath him. His foot smashed into the head of his target, poleaxing him. Still airborne, he drew both blades from
their back-mounted scabbards, drew his left leg back and hacked down to his left and right, feeling both blades bite into flesh.
Auum landed amidst the humans. Malaar landed on one knee next to him, spinning and stabbing into an enemy’s groin, then surged to his feet and slashed one blade through the neck of a
second, then buried the other in the gut of a third.
Auum nodded his approval and turned to face the warriors. He cursed. Flames were rising from the village behind the temple. Screams echoed beneath the canopy. The warriors were hacking open the
temple doors. The spells had cracked the timbers, melted the hinges and lock, and now men were trying to do the rest.
‘Elyss!’ called Auum. ‘My right. Tais, head around the temple. Clear the village.’
Auum ran towards the doors, seeing the six warriors drag them wide enough to get inside while the flames ate at the ruined timbers. Elyss was at his right shoulder. Auum slipped through the
doors, his nose catching the sick stench of magic and fire, and into the cool darkness of the temple.
Beneath the great dome, the statue of Yniss knelt by the harmonic pool as it had done for over a thousand years. The waters still ran from beneath Yniss’ outstretched hand, their sound
melodic and beautiful. But it was eclipsed by the harsh shouts of men and the desecrating slap of their boots on the blessed stone. The warriors had split up to run around both sides of the pool,
heading for the passageway that led through the temple to the rear doors and out into the village.
Auum could see priests and Ynissul adepts in the shadows, helpless and frightened, trapped between the men coming around the pool towards them and those behind them in the village. Auum ran for
the edge of the pool. He planted his left foot and leapt into the air, tucking and turning his body in a forward roll, blades held away from him. He unwound in flight and landed soundlessly between
the two groups of warriors, a blade held out towards each trio.
‘You will travel no further,’ he hissed.
At least one of them understood him. His response was a laugh.
‘One elf cannot stop us,’ he said in passable common elvish.
The men ran on. Auum stepped up towards the passage to meet them as Elyss flew through the air feet first and thumped into the left-hand group, bringing two down and sending the third stumbling
into the wall.
‘One?’ said Auum. ‘A TaiGethen is never alone.’
Auum left Elyss to her work, hefted his blades and waited. The remaining three men came on, fuelled by the sight of their comrades dying. Their desire to reach their friends made them careless.
A blade swung out waist-high. Auum ducked beneath it, coming up in its wake and stabbing the warrior through the centre of his gut, leaving the blade where it stuck, buried to its hilt.
The man stumbled back. Auum moved into the half-pace of space and reversed his other blade into the back of the second warrior’s neck. The third turned, belatedly tracking Auum’s
movement. Auum swung round. His right fist whipped out, smashing the warrior’s nose. The human brought his blade to ready, blood pouring over his mouth, his eyes betraying his surprise and
pain.
For a heartbeat Auum considered letting him be the one to live and carry the story back to his masters.
‘But it should be one who can fly,’ he said.
Auum swayed outside a clumsy strike and calmly slid his blade into the warrior’s chest, then turned from the falling body and retrieved his second blade. He cleaned both on the clothes of
the dead and sheathed them. Elyss had finished her three and was moving up the passageway. Auum ran after her, gesturing priests and adepts aside.
‘Stay under cover. Wait for my word that it is safe.’
Auum and Elyss ran for the rear doors, passing chambers, scripture rooms and sleeping cells, most with elves hiding within them. They were still ten yards from the doors when they burst open, a
flood of workers, civilians, adepts . . . of ordinary elves spilling in, climbing over each other to escape the enemy at their backs.
The air chilled and Auum cursed.
‘Clear!’ he yelled. He shoved Elyss hard, sending her tumbling into a contemplation chamber and diving after her. A gale of harrowing cold howled down the passageway. Elven screams
were cut off as if a door had been slammed shut against them.
Auum shivered and rolled onto his back. Ice rimed the door of the chamber and lay thick on the floor and ceiling of the passageway. It climbed the walls to create a frozen blue tunnel.
Detonations outside shook the temple, where more screams filled the air. Inside the temple, the silence told its own story.
Auum pushed himself to his feet and ran out, slithering on the icebound floor. He dropped to a crouch, scrabbling with hand and foot to make headway towards the doors and the village. Elyss
followed more slowly. Ahead of him, the passage was clogged with the bodies of defenceless Ynissul elves frozen in the attitudes of their slaughter. Hands outstretched for help, mouths open in
screams of brief agony.
Beyond them, mages stood framed in the doorway. They were casting. Auum tried to increase his pace but the ice on the floor gave him precious little purchase. He snatched a jaqrui from his belt
and threw it backhanded. The blade whispered away, thudding into a mage’s legs. He cried out and fell. The three others opened their palms to cast, and Auum commended his soul to Yniss.
A shadow passed across the doors; the castings were never released. A figure whipped in from the left. One mage was decapitated, his head bouncing and sliding across the ice of the temple floor.
The head came to rest at Auum’s feet, its eyes staring into his, its final confusion fading away.
Auum spat on the face and lifted his gaze to the doors. The elf who stood there had a wildness about his expression that he would never lose. Nor would he lose the haunted look in his eyes.
Swords were dripping blood in his hands, and at his feet human mages were bleeding and dying.
‘You took your time,’ said Auum. ‘Perhaps a little more practice is required.’
The elf ignored him, muttered to himself and knelt at the body of a still-breathing mage.
‘You will take the tale of your failure to your masters,’ he said. ‘But only after you have told me what I desire to know.’
Auum shook his head and began to walk towards the door. He felt Elyss come to his side. Together, they moved past the elf and into the burning village.
‘Is that . . . ?’ asked Elyss.
‘Yes,’ said Auum. ‘It is Takaar. Or what’s left of him.’
Auum led Elyss into the fresh rainfall to witness the carnage the human magic had created.
Chapter 2
The journey from Silent Priest to ClawBound is short in distance but infinite in solace for the soul. A ClawBound will always remember. That is the price he must pay for
the joy of genuine union with the most glorious of Tual’s creatures.
From ClawBound and Silent, by Lysael, High Priest of Yniss
Auum indulged in a moment of pride. His TaiGethen students had reacted like veterans. They had killed without error and saved the lives of dozens of innocents. They moved
through the village now, readying the dead for removal to the Hallows of Reclamation. They offered comfort to the injured and grieving and administered balms to wounds where they could.
Fires still burned in a few houses. The magical flame was difficult to extinguish but with Gyal’s tears falling they would spread no further. Auum walked back into the temple. The ice had
melted quickly, leaving the stones wet and slick. Every chamber held priests at prayer and he could hear plainsong coming from within the dome. It was a dirge for the dead and a chant for the
vengeance of Shorth to be visited upon the souls of the enemy.
Back in the dome, Auum walked around the pool and past the priests and adepts kneeling at its edges to sing. A lone figure was standing at the burned, sundered doors of the temple. Auum joined
her and followed her gaze as it travelled over the bloodstained apron, still littered with the bodies of human mages.
‘I am sorry we were not here to save more of your people, Onelle,’ said Auum.
Onelle gave a dry, mirthless laugh and placed a hand on Auum’s arm.
‘Without you, many more would be dead and the plight of all elves would be that much worse.’
Auum looked at Onelle and saw the haunting knowledge in her eyes. She was an Ynissul who had suffered so much and in whom so much faith and trust was placed. She was the first and most advanced
practitioner of the Il-Aryn, One Earth, the name given to the fledgling elvish magic. It had aged even her and she was Ynissul, immortal. Grey dominated her hair, which had thinned, giving her a
taut and severe look when she brushed it back from her face.
Onelle’s face was deeply lined and her eyes, still green and rich with the health of her soul, were edged with darkness by the weight of a task which kept her from proper rest. But her
mind was strong and her desire to learn and to impart that learning had grown in the hundred and fifty years since her escape from Ysundeneth and the awakening of the power within her.
‘How many did we lose?’ asked Auum.
Onelle took a shuddering breath. ‘We have counted fourteen adepts. More are gravely wounded. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that our orientation class is in the field. Those
twenty-eight were saved by their absence.’
Onelle let her head drop. Auum knew she was crying but he needed to know more.
‘What is left of the development and practitioner classes?’
Onelle shook her head. ‘Gone. And worse, we knew this would happen.’
‘What?’
‘We knew they would find us if we tested our powers. They can smell the use of the Il-Aryn. They can track it like a panther tracks a deer in the depths of night. We’d been so
careful until now.’
‘You can’t blame yourself. You have no choice but to test.’
Onelle stared up at Auum and the smile she forced through her tears broke his heart. ‘And we found ourselves so terribly wanting, didn’t we?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We were trying to generate a shield against magical attack,’ said Onelle. ‘I was so confident. We had worked so hard. And then they came and cast a single spell and our shield
crumbled. They all died.’
‘Who?’ asked Auum.
‘The practitioner class. All of them but me. Along with all of the development class, who were watching and learning and were caught in the blast. So much work, so much time and it was all
for nothing. All wasted. I’m so sorry.’
‘No effort you make is ever wasted,’ said Auum, though a dead weight sat in his chest at her words. ‘We can rebuild.’
‘Those still trapped in Ysundeneth don’t have the time. We all know that.’
‘They are in no danger if they cause no trouble.’
‘They’re slaves!’ Onelle’s voice rang harshly from the temple walls. ‘We swore to free them.’
‘And we will. Yniss will guide us. Don’t lose your faith.’
‘Auum, you don’t understand.’ Onelle was laughing through her tears. It was a bitter sound. ‘We have been learning how to harness the Il-Aryn for almost a hundred and
fifty years, ever since the soul of Ix was awakened in some of us. And in all that time we are nowhere. Don’t you see?
‘All ten of the practitioner class were building the same casting. One human mage blew it apart, and killed them all in a heartbeat. We have no power, no knowledge, which can possibly
stand against human magic. It will be centuries before we can stand with you and defend you from their fire and their ice and all the evil they can bring to bear.
‘By then, the elves will be lost. Gone or dying out. What is happening at Katura is a symptom of a disease that will sweep us all away. Humans will rule Calaius.’
Auum bridled. Onelle’s words had laid bare the scale of the gulf between human and elven magic and ripped the veil of hope from his eyes. But despite that he would not turn meekly from his
task.
‘No human will rule my country,’ he said. ‘Katura has slipped into a malaise born of a yearning for things long gone. It is you and I and those we lead who must secure the
future of our people. You cannot fall prey to despair. There is always something that can be done. Accelerate your learning. I will accelerate the training of my students.
‘What can I do to help you?’
Onelle wiped at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. It is hard. All that effort, and they snuffed us out so easily. All our confidence and belief in our ability is exposed as a sham.’
‘I can promise you that TaiGethen will once again stand at Aryndeneth as sentinels against desecration. The Al-Arynaar will stand with us. No elf will die at this temple again.’
Onelle nodded. ‘At least those of us still alive will sleep better tonight. But there are so few of us now. We must find more adepts. More potential we can explore.’
Auum watched Onelle begin to think again and with those thoughts came hope. ‘Then we will find more, and we will send them to you.’
‘How do you do it?’ asked Onelle.
‘Do what?’
‘Keep your spirit so strong and your soul free of doubt.’
Auum frowned and for a moment could not frame an answer. ‘Because I have never questioned my faith or the virtue of my mission. This is our land, our rainforest. I will not rest until all
our people are free and man’s stench has been scoured from every corner. Calaius was given to us by Yniss. No human can take it from us.’
A movement in the canopy at the far edge of the apron caught his eye. It was nothing but a shadow against the light, invisible to all but the sharpest of rainforest predators. He began to run,
his last words to Onelle spoken over his shoulder.
‘Believe and we cannot fail. Tend to your people.’
Auum’s heart was beating hard in his chest. It had been the merest glint of an eye but he knew who it was, what it was, he had seen.
‘Stop!’ called Auum. ‘Speak to me. Tell me what you felt. Please. You are ClawBound but you are still an elf. Stop!’
But the shadow was gone. Elf and panther had melted away into the canopy.
‘Serrin!’ called Auum. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? Please help me. I am Auum. Remember me.’
Auum stood at the edge of the apron, his emotions choking his thoughts and a brief hope of contact quickly extinguished. He stared into the forest, hoping against all reason to see Serrin
walking towards him.
‘Damn,’ he said. He frowned. ‘What were you doing here?’
Auum turned back towards the temple. Elyss and Tiiraj were trotting towards him.
‘Where are the others?’
‘Malaar is working with the priests, preparing the dead for reclamation. Wirann and Gyneev are tending the wounded. A lot of burns. We don’t have enough balm.’
‘The priests will provide. How many of the injured will survive?’ asked Auum.
‘How far can a TaiGethen jump?’ responded Tiiraj. ‘Olmaat survived burns that should kill any elf. It depends less on the wound, more on the spirit and the will.’
‘That is not an answer. How many have burns that should kill them? How many should live because their wounds are superficial?’
Tiiraj jerked his head back towards the temple. ‘I think you should come and make that determination for yourself.’
Auum shrugged and gestured for them to precede him, and they trotted into the cool of the temple. The stone flags surrounding the harmonic pool were covered with wounded adepts and priests. The
stink of charred flesh was in the air and the dome echoed mournfully with moans of pain.
Auum walked slowly around the dome, kneeling by each victim to speak words of comfort or join the prayers when the priests’ ministrations could not save their patients.
At the end of his circuit, Auum understood why Tiiraj had been so uncertain. He had seen those with hideous wounds across their faces, clothes burned into their bodies and hands scorched almost
to the bone whose eyes shone with a fury and an energy that would drive their survival. And he had seen those with relatively
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Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen
James Barclay
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