‘Gresse, I don’t think we can wait for that stretcher.’
Chapter 7
The mournful calls of the ClawBound soared above the anxious rainforest, a companion to Auum’s run north with his Tai towards Ysundeneth. The proud roar of the panthers, the guttural call of the elves combining to summon the nation to the Harkening. By day a clarion call to action. By night a haunting resonance that denied rest and demanded movement.
Every creature in the rainforest heard the song. For Tual’s denizens, it was an alien sound that kept them in hides, burrows and nests; for the elves, a sign of mortal peril that none dare ignore.
From every corner of the mighty rainforest they came. Temples were left untended. Villages and towns deserted. Crops abandoned and fishing fleets drawn up onto riverbanks. All making the journey that had existed before only in legend and myth, lost in the ancient writings of elven history. Still, some had personal memories of the time before they would rather forget. All gathering at the huge natural amphitheatre that the elves called Ultan-in-Caeyin, where Gods are heard.
The last gathering here had taken place in the aftermath of the Elfsorrow which humans had unleashed on Calaius and which other humans had helped defeat. Auum had not been in attendance. This time it had to be different. Then it had been in celebration, now it was in fear of extermination.
Ultan-in-Caeyin was a gem unearthed not long after the founding of Ysundeneth on the northern coast of Calaius. A huge bowl of stone and grass banks on the edge of the rainforest, carved by the Gods for their words to be heard. Ringed by sheer cliffs, bordered by river and ocean, it had been embellished over the years. A vast stage stood at the northern end away from the entrance. Bridges and paths had been laid for people to walk the short distance from the city’s western edge. Hundreds of brackets for torch and lantern had been hammered into the walls. Benching had been built in vast concentric arcs. Ultan-in-Caeyin could seat two hundred thousand comfortably.
Auum shuddered as he approached the wide entrance. Elves were streaming in and that was bad enough. But inside there were, he was told, upwards of thirty-five thousand already assembled. He stopped and stared at the masses inside. The gloom of evening was descending. Cook fires were being lit all across the bowl.
‘Is there no other way to the stage?’
‘Straight ahead is the only way,’ said Ghaal.
Auum looked over at the stage, impossibly distant through the throng and blazing with light that taunted him. The walls of the Caeyin appeared to press in, sheer and impassable, pushing the crowd in, shoving them towards him. He backed up a pace.
‘I don’t like crowds,’ he said.
Miirt exchanged glances with Ghaal.
‘We will make passage for you,’ she said.
Auum nodded his thanks. ‘You are sure?’
‘We were not born as you were,’ she said.
‘Tai, we move,’ said Auum. ‘Quickly.’
Elves outside the warrior castes stepped aside for he and his Tai to make their way to the stage. The faces that turned towards him were anxious but cleared on sight of him. He betrayed no fear, nodding at those who bowed their heads to him though he wanted no more than to close his eyes and have it all be over.
Word of his arrival spread like oil over sword steel and a hush descended on the Caeyin.
‘Even when they are quiet, they make noise enough to shatter bark,’ said Auum.
His Tai kept their silence, moving fluidly at his sides. He was glad of their attentions. Fine additions to the calling though none could ever truly replace those he had lost. He would forever mourn Evunn and Duele. At least their souls had made the journey to rest with the elders.
Rebraal was awaiting them on the stage. With a trembling hand Auum acknowledged the applause that broke out.
‘Why do they applaud?’ he asked, taking Rebraal’s arm and leading him to a dark corner at the back of the stage.
‘The great Auum is among them,’ said Rebraal a broad smile on his face. ‘Reluctantly. Why would they not?’
‘None of them knows me.’
‘There is nothing anyone hates more than unfounded modesty,’ said Rebraal. ‘Your reputation has no need of embellishment.’
Auum faced him. ‘All my work, I do for Yniss. These people are Tual’s people and Tual kneels before Yniss. That is enough.’
‘The world has changed since you first ran in the rainforest,’ said Rebraal. ‘Then, people feared the TaiGethen because they did not understand your purpose or your methods. Now, while they are still wary of you, they revere you also. They love you. It is you who protects them from harm.’
‘Not this time,’ said Auum. ‘That is why we are here. Shorth remains silent. Yniss cannot help us.’
‘He will always watch over us.’
‘Only if he is able.’ Auum gazed out over the crowd from the shadows. It had become obvious to most that he had no intention of speaking and the hubbub of conversation was growing once more. ‘So tell me, Lord of the Al- Arynaar, how soon can we leave Calaius?’
‘I’m just…’ began Rebraal, then he chuckled. ‘All right, point taken. Preparations are going as well as they can. There is scepticism and resistance as you can imagine but we are getting through to most of the people who matter. Ships are assembling. We have pledges from three hundred and we hope for more every day.’
‘That is nowhere near enough.’
‘I cannot produce ocean going vessels out of thin air. We should give thanks for the huge trade we have developed with Balaia or we’d be in a worse state.’
‘I know.’ Auum nodded. He felt weary. Like a two-day fever at its height. ‘You have the administrators of Ysundeneth working?’
‘They have some of the Ynissul amongst them,’ said Rebraal. ‘They understand.’
‘So few remain,’ said Auum. ‘Too many chose to die, thinking we were forever safe.’
‘You didn’t.’
Auum felt no satisfaction. ‘Elves are never safe from harm. What is it, Rebraal?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You are twitching away like a stranger bitten by a taipan. Speak your mind.’
‘We’re just running away. Can we really not beat them?’ The words came in a rush when they started. ‘We have lived here so long. We have beauty and we have peace. We have the rainforest. So much to lose.’
Auum shook his head, feeling every year he had breathed the air. ‘They are too strong. Even for us, and we have worked so hard to keep ourselves hidden and to build our strengths. They are relentless. A menace without conscience. Without mercy.’
He closed his eyes against the memories.
‘You faced them.’ Rebraal breathed in sharply. ‘Didn’t you?’
Auum blinked and opened his eyes onto the young elf’s steady gaze. ‘And I ran. It is easy for you who were born here to believe this your home for all time. I’ve lived through too much history ever to get comfortable. I have watched too many friends die.’
‘At least you have the blood to grant you all those years.’
‘It is not the blessing you think it to be,’ said Auum sharply.
‘I’m sorry, Auum. I didn’t mean that quite the way it came out.’
Auum nodded. ‘I am certain you didn’t. But the nation is in peril. Old prejudices never die, they merely hide.’
‘You know Ilkar once said he almost wished he had never met a human much less befriended one. Hard to outlive those you love by so many hundreds of years, he said. It was the thing he feared the most.’
