Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (35 page)

Auum felt a keen anger bite and it warmed his soul a little. He let it grow, take form and substance in his mind, and he realised where his anger stemmed from. He turned to the quiet huddled
group, most of whom had their faces buried in their arms and their knees dragged right up, trying to eke out a modicum of comfort.

‘This cannot be it,’ he said loudly enough to cut across the whine of the wind. ‘This cannot be all we can do. It is going to get colder and colder as the night deepens, and
how many of you, with your nerveless hands and your soaking clothes, think you are going to survive? I’m not certain I will.

‘The TaiGethen cannot fight this. We cannot make fires from nothing. So what has your wonderful magic got to offer, my Il-Aryn and Julatsan friends? Conjure me a log and some kindling.
Conjure me a timber shelter. Do
something
.’

Stein stood. His lips were swollen and his face was raw and red.

‘I understand your frustration, but we are few and we cannot expend all of our strength. I could have my mages warm the stone, but the cold runs deep and the warmth will be stolen before
it can be of use because we are so exposed here. We have to conserve our energy.’

‘For what? If we don’t do something, most of us will not be alive to benefit from your precious stamina come dawn.’ Auum stared at the faces of TaiGethen and Il-Aryn around him
and saw either determination or surrender. He picked out Rith. ‘And you, what can you do? Takaar’s teaching of seven hundred years cannot be so feeble that you cannot warm yourselves,
surely?’

‘We can’t make heat out of ice,’ said Rith. ‘It doesn’t work that way. We don’t channel mana like a Julatsan, we use the energies around us to forge what we
can. We adapt what we have; we cannot create something from nothing. I’m sorry.’

‘
Sorry?
’ Auum spat out the word. ‘Is that it? Just as on the walls of Julatsa when the pressure was on and you found you could do nothing? Takaar’s precious
Il-Aryn, the new power among the elves . . . Yniss save us and Ix abandon you, but on this evidence I never had anything to worry about, did I?’

Rith could not hold his stare. He saw her shudder violently as she dropped her head, and he wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the onset of tears. Auum spread his arms.

‘We have suffered to bring you here. TaiGethen saved you by the lake, we saved you on the wall and we kept you alive to get here. Now it is your turn. Don’t you dare look away from
me, Rith.’

Her gaze returned and there was fire in it at least.

‘We did not ask for this! We did not want war and we did not want to freeze to death on a mountainside, but you forced us here, gave us no choice but to go with you. You brought us here
and now we are spent and we have no hope.’

‘None of us wanted war,’ snapped Auum. ‘But it is what we have. Either here and now, or in our lands in the days to come. I choose to fight here and I will die here if I must,
but it will be by sword thrust or black fire, not because of a lack of elven spirit.’

Rith shrugged her shoulders, the shudders in her body so violent they made the gesture painful. ‘We cannot draw heat from ice. I am sorry.’

‘I do not believe you. I refuse to believe you! I have seen Takaar sink a ship. I have seen you create barriers that beat off Wytch Lord magic, and only yesterday you made the air sharp
enough to behead our enemies travelling at a gallop. And you are telling me you cannot create something to keep the damn snow off my back?’

Rith’s mouth fell open and she looked at him as if he were a fresh warm morning.

‘We’ve been thinking about this all wrong,’ she said. ‘Give me a moment. Il-Aryn, gather round, I have an idea.’

Rith began to speak and Auum turned away, uninterested in the mechanics of whatever she thought she might do as long as she did it quickly. He felt a nudge at his elbow and Stein was standing
there. He had a bowl in one hand and, as Auum watched, he played a flame from his palm beneath it until its contents steamed. He handed it over and produced a spoon from his cloak.

‘Here. You didn’t eat enough. Admirable but stupid. If you die all hope will be lost.’

‘You don’t feel pressure, do you, Auum?’ said Ulysan.

Auum thought to refuse, but his stomach saw sense and he began to scoop the warm stew into his mouth, having trouble holding the spoon in his unresponsive fingers.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘the quality of Ulysan’s jokes has reached a point where all hope is already lost.’

‘I wonder what they’re doing,’ said Ulysan.

‘Saving all our lives, I trust,’ said Auum.

‘Is it that bad?’ asked Ulysan.

‘I know how I feel and I know how much I can take. It’s night, and the temperature is falling like a stone down that chasm. If we cannot get warm, we’re all going to die right
here.’ Auum stabbed a finger at Stein. ‘And if that happens, don’t you dare let anyone who can escape die too or I’ll haunt you from Shorth’s embrace.’

‘To leave you would be to betray you.’

Auum gave Ulysan his empty bowl and pulled Stein into an embrace which the human found uncomfortable but which Auum would not let him break. Eventually, he released him, kissing his
forehead.

Ulysan raised his eyebrows. ‘Some honour,’ he said.

‘If all humans were like you, our races would have been friends for a thousand years. What a waste.’ Auum stepped away and looked back to Rith. ‘Now then, how are they getting
on? I wonder. Even though I’m freezing and I consider you my brother, Stein, I won’t embrace you again. Your clothes absolutely stink.’

Kerela was scared and she was tired but she knew there would be precious little sleep for her. Sipharec was dying and his passing would make her high mage, a position for which
she suddenly felt herself entirely inadequate. She knew she would have the support of Harild and that meant a great deal, but her first task, should Sipharec pass during the night, would be to
preside over a war with Xetesk and the Wytch Lords.

She shuddered as she entered her rooms. The great balcony doors had been left open and the curtains were blowing in the chill night air. It was somehow fitting, the cold matching her mood.
Sipharec . . . who would have thought it?

Not a cancer, which is what he had assumed, but a failure of his heart and liver. As if they’d had enough and were shutting down. There was nothing magic could do but ease the pain. The
poor man was so angry and bitter he would not see his job through that he had not left his rooms since he had fallen ill just a few days ago.

Kerela’s mind was tumbling with anxiety so much that she failed to notice the figure sitting on the end of her bed until she had closed the doors and turned back into the room. She stifled
a cry and placed a hand on her thudding heart, relaxing when she saw who it was.

‘Most people make an appointment,’ she said. ‘How did you get in here? You’re exiled.’

‘No ward or wall can keep me from where I must be,’ said Takaar. ‘And I must be here.’

He was filthy from the trail, his hair unkempt and with dirt staining his clothes and face. He had a hollow look in his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days and a pinch to his cheeks told of
a lack of food. But those eyes were alive with his madness barely in check, and Kerela was acutely aware of how dangerous he could be.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked.

He smiled, and his voice dropped to a whisper so quiet she had to lean in to hear him.

‘I have been to the Septern Manse.’

The smile on his face was childlike. Kerela gasped and sat down on the bed next to him.

‘What did you see? Tell me, were our team there?’

Takaar shook his head and Kerela sagged, though she had known in her heart that they’d been killed. Friends of hers, people beloved by the college, had been in that party – peaceful
people, talented people.

‘Only Xeteskians were there. And fighters with masks, strong and quick but dark of soul.’

‘Protectors,’ breathed Kerela. ‘They sent Protectors. We never stood a chance.’

‘There is no one there now.’ Takaar smiled but there was no glory in his tone when he spoke his next words. ‘Because I am a better mage than they and the Senserii are better
fighters.’

Kerela knew she shouldn’t but she hugged Takaar. He tensed and she let him go at once but couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

‘I shouldn’t feel good that they are dead but I can’t help it,’ she said.

Takaar shrugged. ‘They killed your people and you are an elf. Never be ashamed of your heritage.’

‘Harild will be delighted. He’s sent a force down there to take the Manse and make it ours.’

Takaar hadn’t appeared to be listening but he frowned. ‘Why?’

‘So that when this is done, Julatsa can own Dawnthief.’

Takaar was distracted, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them as wide as he could and staring around the room.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ said Takaar. ‘You should call them back. No one will ever secure Dawnthief.’

‘That’s some statement,’ said Kerela, suppressing a laugh. ‘How do you know?’

Takaar stared at her as if she was stupid.

‘Because I am a better mage.’

‘You’re going to have to offer more than that if I’m to change our agreed defence tactics.’

‘I know what you told me,’ said Takaar after a pause. He looked to his right. ‘She’ll understand. Eventually, they all understand.’

Kerela felt a frisson of nerves. This was the first time she’d seen him engage with his other self, and it was deeply unsettling. She waited, not knowing what else to do and being
reluctant to interrupt. She became acutely aware of her vulnerability. No one knew he was here and she was alone with him, the elf who had turned Drech’s head to ash.

‘Don’t press me!’ Takaar snapped. Kerela jumped and moved a little further away along the edge of the bed. Takaar turned a terribly fragile smile on her. ‘I’m
sorry, I startled you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, her heart thundering in her chest.

‘See what you’ve done,’ hissed Takaar.

Kerela took in a long trembling breath. ‘I don’t think—’

Takaar’s hand shot out and took hers. His grip was gentle though his fingers and palms were rough with dirt and scratches.

‘You must hear this,’ said Takaar. ‘Before I . . . Anyway you must hear this. Dawnthief isn’t at Septern Manse. It isn’t anywhere in the Balaian
dimension.’

‘Dimension?’ Kerela knew the history of the elves and Takaar’s discovery on Hausolis, but the theory had always confused her and she had left its study to others in the
college. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course,’ said Takaar dismissively. ‘I can sense the place where it must be held, where the secrets are kept. I can even draw the doorway in the mud of the manse ruins, but
I cannot open it.’

‘How can you be sure that no one can just because you can’t?’

It was a dangerous question, and Kerela regretted it the moment she asked, but Takaar merely favoured her with a patronising smile. He patted her hand and withdrew his to itch at his right
forearm, which was already red and scraped from his scratching.

‘It is closed against all those without his talents. I can read the energies even though I can’t unpick them to work the lock. He understood all four of your magics, didn’t
he?’

‘That’s what he always claimed. His was a boundless ego.’

‘A boundless talent,’ said Takaar. ‘Don’t belittle what he knew.’

Kerela felt Takaar tense and she swallowed hard, feeling herself begin to shiver.

‘I don’t. But he was never shy of telling us how great he was.’

Takaar stared at her, his expression bleak. ‘And you should have listened. Maybe then he would be alive, and I could speak with him and we could do the great things together.’

‘I don’t—’

Takaar stood and marched across the room to the fireplace, which needed more fuel before the embers cooled. He rubbed his hands across his face, but when he turned back the fury she feared was
not evident and instead there was a broad smile on his face.

‘He may not be dead!’

Kerela blinked. Everyone had seen the manse. No one could have survived the conflagration. Takaar rushed back across the room, and for a moment Kerela thought he was going to drag her into an
embrace but he stopped short. His eyes were alive with possibilities and his hands were shaking as he gesticulated.

‘Think! He has hidden the spell in a chamber placed in another dimension. Why would he not hide there himself when his enemies closed around him? He could open doors to other places. Who
knows where he is now, laughing at your pathetic attempts to find his secrets. Ha! And until humans find another mage who understands the magics of all four colleges as he does, they’ll never
even open the door!’

Kerela felt exhausted all over again by Takaar’s sudden energy, but she could not deny his excitement was contagious and what he was saying had a certain logic to it. But there was a major
flaw in his hopes.

‘There is no such person,’ she said. ‘There never will be. Not unless Septern left instructions somewhere, to act as a key.’

Takaar snorted. ‘Why would he do that? He has taken such care to remove himself from those he thinks unworthy of his secrets, why would he leave a key on a hook for anyone to
find?’

‘It wouldn’t be a key in that sense,’ said Kerela.

Takaar rolled his eyes. ‘I know. You don’t understand. It is a challenge, and only the mage who can solve the problem is worthy of his secrets. And it will be an elf who does it
because we have the time that humans do not.’

Takaar wandered back into the centre of the room, muttering to his other self. Kerela shouldn’t have been so confident in his words but there seemed no doubt he was right. Truth be told,
he almost always was. Kerela rose from the bed and moved slowly towards him, desiring to hear what he was saying.