Auum stood in the stern of the vessel. Five days on, the tears had long dried up but the cloud was still visible above ruined Calaius. Behind him Captain Jevin kept a steady hand on the tiller as he had done for as long as Auum had known him. A sea captain without peer and a braver elf Auum had yet to meet bar those of the TaiGethen themselves.
‘It will get no better for the want of staring at it,’ said Jevin.
Auum turned to see Jevin’s broad back.
‘We killed our own to save ourselves. There can be no greater crime.’
Auum’s memories came flooding back. The flames hemming them in as Ysundeneth burned. The desperation to make it aboard ship. The pleading, the threats and the promises. And finally the spells deployed to force order and the TaiGethen attacking those demanding passage when they had originally chosen to stay.
‘Think on who you saved, not who had to die. It is the way of elves.’
‘I cannot forget so easily,’ said Auum. ‘Every drop of blood is on my conscience.’
‘Who said anything about forgetting? We’re a long time alive, some of us, and our memories come with us all the way. But for now focus on what you have, not what you have lost.’
‘You sound like me,’ said Auum, coming to his side.
Jevin smiled at him. ‘Well, you talk a good deal of sense. Most of the time. And I make it my mission to listen to elves who kill with your efficiency.’
‘And what do we have, Captain?’
‘Look about you, Lord Auum. The sea is full of elven sails pushed hard by the devil wind the Garonin have caused with their fire. Almost three hundred, and all will make landfall before night.’
‘But do you know how few of the elven population of Calaius that represents?’
Jevin’s smile faded a touch. ‘Less than ten per cent, I am sure.’ ‘Less than five, my friend, even though every vessel is overburdened. I should be happy, I know. It is more than we took from the fires of the Garonin before. But we must also pray for the souls of all those who perished. For all that we achieved, we only saved forty thousand of our people. Every other soul is trapped and restless until we can find a new home.’
Jevin nodded and turned back to the wheel for a moment. Auum looked out over the crowded deck at the desperate and desolate, the bemused and the stricken. The confidence of millennia swept away in a few days.
‘You have many problems ahead before that time comes,’ said Jevin, inclining his head at the civilians.
‘The Garonin at our backs, an army of the displaced to move and feed, and Yniss only knows what state Balaia will be in. We have to assume they are also under attack.’
‘You’ll be lucky to find a college standing,’ said Jevin.
‘Yet we must hope Julatsa’s Heart beats for long enough to see us safely to the Wesmen and away.’
‘And you. Still determined to go through with your plan, then?’
‘Two men still live who I regard as highly as any TaiGethen elf. I will not leave them behind. The bulk of the civilians will travel to the west with Rebraal to appeal to the Charanacks. They have no mana, surely their path to the spirits is clear, and if it is, it might provide our means of escape.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Then the elven race dies on Balaia.’
Jevin blew out his cheeks and nodded his head. ‘Anyone else would sound overdramatic. You just scare me.’
‘Remain scared, it is a wise state of mind.’
Mages were flying back to the fleet. Dark specks against the cloud-strewn sky, flying against the wind. Auum felt his heart rate increase. News was at hand. He watched the trio approach. Jevin ordered a red burgee raised atop the main mast to guide them in. Rebraal had chosen well. All appeared unhurried and in control of their castings after several hours away although they had probably been unable to land.
But as they drew near he could make out the distress on their faces ever more clearly. He prayed to Yniss that it was simply exhaustion but he knew otherwise. The trio circled the Calaian Sun and landed on the wheel deck.
Everyone on board was looking at them. Every elf on deck had risen and there was a concerted bunching towards the stern. Auum didn’t blame them. The first mate asked for calm and assured them that information would be given to all. It did little to quell the thirst for knowledge.
‘I hardly need to ask, do I?’
Dila’heth shook her head and wiped dust from her face.
‘They are there, my Lord Auum. Yniss preserve me, you can see the clouds from here if you look for long enough. It is no mirage.’
‘Is Gyernath secure?’ asked Jevin. ‘Can we still land there?’
‘Yes, but it will do us little good other than to disembark the ClawBound we need to scout north. The Garonin will have pressed into Xetesk before you can make it on foot, Lord Auum. You will need to find another route to Xetesk.’
‘And the colleges?’ Auum was sure more bad news was on the way.
‘Lystern is gone. Xetesk and Julatsa will be under direct attack in a little over ten days. Other vydospheres are headed to Korina and to Triverne Inlet, meaning even the site of the One college will not be spared. Balaia is dying. Consumed by the fires of the Garonin and soon to be dust and ash.’
Auum put his head in his hands. He heard a collective groan from the assembled crowd behind him on deck.
‘Are we already too late?’ he asked.
Dila’heth shrugged. ‘It is hard to be sure of anything. I do not want to give you false hope.’
‘Did you land? Is there any good news?’
Dila laughed and exchanged glances with her two fellow mages.
‘The Balaians are fighting, we saw evidence of that. But they are compromised just like us. Some of their dead are returned. Their messages carry no hope of victory and speak only of running, but they do not know where. They have no idea who to turn to.’
Auum nodded. ‘Then they shall turn to us.’
The survivors of the massacre barely stopped running until they reached the questionable sanctuary of Xetesk. The enemy had stopped moving once the defenders had fled. Scouts reported them actually turning away from their path, heading further north with their machine.
Inside Xetesk, confusion obscured all else. Refugees, living and previously dead, were flooding into the city from Erskan, Blackthorne, Pontois and Denebre. All told the same story. Unstoppable advance, total devastation. No quarter given, no hostages taken. Nothing left but ashes and dust, the stumps of trees and naked rock.
The authorities, shorn of Denser and Sol, had struggled to cope. As many as possible had been directed to parks and waste grounds and given what food and shelter could be found. Others received charity in private dwellings and yet more had been fleeced by unscrupulous landlords and inn owners. The city was creaking.
The arrival of the Lord of the Mount, dishevelled and riding with just a handful of those with whom he had set out, only deepened the disquiet. Tensions had been rising steadily between the living and the dead. Violence was breaking out. Divisions were deepening and the advance of the enemy added fear to the mix. Denser’s ears rang with problems, none of which he was immediately willing to face.
In the relative peace and quiet of the Mount, Denser poured a jug of water over his head and let the icy liquid soak down over his shirt and trousers. He handed the jug back to his apprentice, who refilled it from the butt in the corner of the bedchamber. He upended this second jug too, hearing the water splash over the stone floor and force life into his bones and muscles.
‘Thank you, Brynar. You can go. Find me some food; I’ll be down to the main chambers shortly.’
‘Yes, my Lord Denser,’ said Brynar, a keen young mage, bright and determined. ‘Baron Blackthorne, Sharyr and Lord Dystran all request urgent audience. As does Mayor Haved.’
‘And I will see them as soon as I can, assure them of that. First I must rid myself of this dust and stench.’
‘My Lord Denser?’
‘Yes.’
‘It is good to see you back safe.’
Denser nodded and suddenly he was clinging hard to his emotions. ‘I can scarce believe it myself. Off you
