churned mud of the battlegrounds.

As many as could had crammed onto what remained of the ramparts to see the remnants of the human army flee into the forest. Perhaps six hundred had survived the ferocity of the elves’ revenge, just a tenth of those who had come to conduct their slaughter.

Fervour had overtaken the city in the wake of the rout. The Katurans had set about clearing their streets of the dead. Thousands of bodies lay witness to the intensity of the battle. Through the night, work continued. The elven dead were taken to the wrecked temples to be prepared for reclamation. The humans were piled on dozens of makeshift pyres out on the scorched open ground and burned, while the wind blew from the cliff tops and the smoke was taken north towards Ysundeneth.

At first light the following morning the work was still going on. Auum walked with the surviving TaiGethen towards the gates, where the ClawBound had gathered before leaving the city for the last time. Faleen and Hassek, both injured in the avalanche, were helped by others and the walk was necessarily slow.

Everywhere they went, Katurans paused to thank them, pray with them and bless them. Auum wished that more than fourteen Tais lived to witness their gratitude. Rebuilding the TaiGethen would be a long path which could not begin until their work was complete. More could still fall in the liberation of their cities.

In the marketplace the benches and gardens had been destroyed but a new flagpole had already been cut and erected. It was still bare but was a symbol of the city and a sign that healing had already begun. Auum saw Nerille talking to Tulan of the Al-Arynaar. He had a jagged cut down the left side of his face, which bore signs of grief for Pelyn’s death, and for Ephram’s.

‘You’re leaving, I take it?’ asked Nerille.

‘I made a promise to Koel in Ysundeneth and I intend to keep it. Now the humans are broken, we have to cleanse our forest and our cities. Your son?’

Nerille smiled. ‘Unhurt. It is a miracle. I’m sorry you lost so many.’

The TaiGethen acknowledged her words.

‘Will you rebuild?’ asked Ulysan.

Nerille blew out her cheeks. ‘There is so much to do, but yes, I think so. I’m sure that in time, when we hear the cities are ours again, some will return to them. Not me. This is my home. My sweat helped to build Katura and I will be reclaimed here.’

‘Good,’ said Auum. ‘Tulan, how many survived?’

‘Thirty-five, though nearly all of us are are injured.’

‘It’s a start.’ Auum paused, collecting his thoughts. ‘We all made mistakes and they have cost us dear. The TaiGethen will never desert this city again, as long as one elf remains here. And to you falls the task of rebuilding the Al-Arynaar. Seek warriors from across Calaius and from every thread. We must never be so weak again and we must never forget we are one race against a common enemy.

‘I name you Arch.’

Tulan’s eyes widened. ‘I accept… I am honoured. I will not fail you.’

‘It is Pelyn’s memory you must not fail, not me.’ Auum turned to Nerille. ‘Call on us whenever you need us. We are honoured to have fought beside your people.’

He and Nerille embraced.

‘Thank you, Auum, for all you have done. Yniss bless you for what lies ahead. Perhaps you will find time to grieve.’

Auum’s throat threatened to close. ‘I pray for that day.’

He led the TaiGethen to the gates. The rain had not lessened, but the ClawBound, like every other survivor, were in the open, enjoying its cleansing powers. There were ten remaining pairs and all displayed battle scars. Claws and Bound elves stood when the TaiGethen approached. Serrin, his right arm covered in a healing balm, walked forward. Auum did the same, the two meeting between their peoples.

‘You saved us,’ said Auum. ‘You turned the battle. Every living elf owes you a debt they cannot hope to repay.’

Serrin looked embarrassed. ‘We remembered who we were, and that is all. You are the one who saved the race of elves.’

Serrin placed hand on Auum’s shoulder and Auum returned the gesture. The two old friends dragged each other into an embrace that released a century of pain and misunderstanding.

‘I would have it as it used to be between our callings,’ said Serrin. ‘Back in the early years.’

‘That is all I have ever wanted,’ said Auum.

Serrin smiled. ‘There is much for you to forgive.’

‘It is forgiven.’

Around them, the panthers purred in contentment and their Bound elves held out their hands in new greeting. The TaiGethen crossed the space to welcome them and Ulysan’s embrace with Sikaant was long and joyous.

‘You’re travelling to Ysundeneth?’ asked Serrin

Auum nodded. ‘If we can free the enslaved, we can overwhelm what defences men still have. And if we can reclaim Ysundeneth, the other cities will fall. Man has no courage without his magic.’

Serrin sniffed the air. ‘Leave those in the forest to us. To hunt them will be joy undimmed.’

‘Find Takaar,’ said Auum. ‘Tell him what has happened here.’

‘Run fast, Auum.’

‘Hunt well, Serrin.’

Auum watched the ClawBound flow across the open ground with its pyres and scorched earth and disappear into the eaves of the forest. One more task lay ahead.

‘Faleen, Hassek. Stay here. Recover your strength and then head for Aryndeneth. We will find you there. Tais, we move.’

In the darkness of the panoramic room Ystormun tried to still his shaking hands. He had scanned the mana spectrum again and again. He had searched for the signatures of his Communion hosts over the endless miles of forest to the very borders of Katura and he had found nothing.

The silence shouted at him.

And out in the city the Sharps were singing.

Why were they singing? They could not know something he did not. But they could count the days and with each day that passed without word of men’s victory, hope grew in their filthy elven hearts.

Ystormun walked to the windows and stared out over the rainforest.

Soon the cadre would be inside his head again, and this time his assurances would not be accepted. He had nothing new to say to them. He had no information of any kind.

Ystormun took a long, shivering breath and realised that he was scared.

Chapter 39

A human with a hand outstretched in friendship holds a taipan’s fangs in his palm.

TaiGethen saying

‘Hello, old friend.’

Takaar had slipped silently into the fresh-scented bedchamber. Night was full but Garan was seated in his chair, the darkness close about him.

‘You were expecting me,’ said Takaar, moving towards the other chair. He raised his eyebrows. Garan was following him. ‘You can see me?’

‘Yes and yes,’ said Garan. He sounded better than he had at any point in the last twenty years. ‘I have friends who were looking for you, or rather for your aura, and those same friends have given me the benefit of temporary night sight.’

‘You come closer to being an elf every day,’ said Takaar.

‘While you get no closer to being funny,’ said Garan.

There was a prolonged silence between them borne entirely of acceptance. Takaar sat on the bed unable to look Garan in the eye for the moment.

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