Part 13 (1/2)

'Tual, spare him,' whispered Rebraal to the G.o.d of the denizens, fis.h.i.+ng in Mercuun's leather sack for his metal cup and small medicine skin.

He hurried to the river bank and scooped up some water, collected small twigs for kindling on the way back and built a tiny fire, using Mercuun's tinderbox to light the wet wood. He heated the water above the guttering flame, using a cloth to protect his hands from the hot metal.

When the water steamed and bubbled, he dropped some leaves into the mug, their rich fresh scent blooming in his nostrils.

'Almost ready, Meru,' he said, though his friend couldn't hear him. He was moving though, and close to consciousness again, a low moan escaping his lips.

When the infusion was ready, Rebraal decanted the murky green liquid into the skin, added some seeds from the casimir fruit and kept back the leaf sludge. While the drink cooled, he tipped the sludge into a palm leaf, blew on it until he could just touch it and spread it on Mercuun's fractures, having cut his clothes where he had to. The remainder he smeared on his own shoulder.

Mercuun's eyes flickered open. 'I'm dying, Rebraal.'

'No, you're not. Now let me support your head while you drink this.'

He knelt down and lifted Mercuun's head into his lap. The broken elf gulped down the infusion, knowing the powerful sedative would numb his pain.

'What are you going to do?' he asked when the skin was empty.

'Carry you home, Meru. You need healing.'

'But your shoulder.' Mercuun lifted an arm weakly.

'It'll be all right. Trust me.'

'Yniss keep you, Rebraal.'

'And you, Meru. How do you feel?'

'The pain is fading.'

'Good, then let's get going.'

Rebraal packed Mercuun's sack and slung it over his right shoulder before stooping to pick him up. He felt his own wound give and the blood start to flow but the leaf sludge masked him from all but a dull ache.

Mercuun hung in his arms like a dead weight, his head cradled against Rebraal's shoulder and chest.

'Not far now,' said Rebraal. 'Try to rest.'

A chuckle trickled from Mercuun's mouth. 'Don't lie. I may be sick but I haven't completely lost my senses. You're the one who should be resting.'

Rebraal gritted his teeth and set off. It was almost ten miles to the village through dense rainforest, up steep hillsides, down muddy valleys and along a treacherous stream course. Offering a prayer to Yniss to give him the strength to survive, Rebraal left the River Ix behind him.

Chapter 13.

Dusk had fallen and the cacophony that greeted the night invaded the rainforest as it always had and always would. A persistent heavy rain was falling from low, deep grey cloud cover but the thunder and lightning had moved north, heading for the coast.

Not needing the sounds of the elements and nature to mask his movements, Auum walked forward, footsteps less than whispers on the forest floor, barely a leaf rippling as he pa.s.sed. Five yards to either side, his Tai mirrored him. He had no need to look to know exactly where they stood. They were Duele and Evunn and, with Auum, formed one cell of the TaiGethen, the elite warrior hunters of the Al-Arynaar. There were fifty cells in all, spread through the rainforest. No single elf knew them all but every elf knew their purpose.

When called, they killed strangers.

And for Auum's Tai, their quarry was close. They had no orders but the word had reached them and they, like every cell, would comb their zone of the forest, exterminating any threat they found.

For Auum it was his first call, but he didn't think in terms of nerves, or reality versus training. This was what the TaiGethen were bred for.

The scents of the enemy camp had been in their nostrils for hours now as they had closed in. Like poison on the wind, woodsmoke, waxed canvas and cooked meat drifted where they had no right to. It was an affront to the G.o.ds of the rainforest. To Cefu, G.o.d of the canopy; to Beeth, the lord of root and branch; and to Tual, who ruled the forest denizens.

The TaiGethen were willing slaves to the G.o.ds and would do their bidding. The forest had to be cleansed and the balance restored.

The cell came together scant yards from the strangers' encampment to paint themselves and pray. The destruction of the forest to make the camp clearing offended and Auum could see the contempt in the eyes of his Tai. Not anger. Anger was a distraction and a waste.

Opening his pouches of black and deep green pastes, he traced broken stripes over Duele's deep brown face, his prayers sharpening their focus still further. And when the three were ready they rose to their feet, tan moccasins making no sound, green mottled jerkins and trousers blending with the tones of the undergrowth, faces now marked and hidden.

'Work for the Tai. Faith will keep us. Now string your bows and we will do the G.o.ds' bidding.'

There was a commotion outside the tent, but during his fever Sorys had heard so much that was strange he'd stopped trusting his senses. He'd been hallucinating giant spiders and plagues of snakes at the height of his four-day fever but at least now his mind was capable, or seemed to be, of rational thought. His tending mage, Claryse, said the fever had broken but that he was to rest another two days before joining Yron at the temple. She'd said very little but Sorys had the distinct impression they'd encountered serious trouble there.

So he lay in a platoon tent on a makes.h.i.+ft hammock, alone but for an oil lamp on the ground nearby. His night terrors were still too real and the pale yellow light was such a comfort.

He listened hard. There was something not right about what he could hear outside but he couldn't be sure if the fever had truly left him and he felt confused. So he just lay where he was, straining to pick up the sounds in among the raised voices.

The commotion died down. He thought he heard footsteps outside his tent but they were very quiet. And then, clear as the call of one of those d.a.m.ned howling monkeys, came a shrill wailing, pa.s.sing left to right. It was the sound of loss, and it shuddered through his tired body. It scared him but he didn't cry out. Best to lie very still.

The wail came again and again. A man shouted but was cut off abruptly. Sorys could feel his heart beating very hard in his chest. Nausea rose. He reached for his water bottle just as the tent flap flew open. Claryse stood there, the lantern light illuminating a face drawn by some awful fear.

'Ghosts,' she stammered, voice choked and broken. 'Ghosts. We've got-'

The head of an arrow appeared through the front of her throat and her body jolted forwards. She stumbled, blood pouring from the wound. She reached out, tried to speak and crumpled.

Sorys was too terrified even to scream.

He heard a whispering on the breeze and the tent flap moved again.

With the tent canvas shredded, all ropes frayed and cut, bodies laid out, fires extinguished and all metal buried, Auum led the Tai in prayer. They'd killed seventeen strangers and he felt at peace though the scything of the forest around him was a stain that only the G.o.ds could remove.

'Cefu, hear us. Beeth, hear us. Tual, hear us. We, your loyal servants who work according to your will, offer all that is around us to you and your denizens. May the flesh feed your creatures, may the cloth line burrows and nests and may the bones forever remind all who seek to destroy you that there is only eternal failure and d.a.m.nation. Hear us and move us. Direct us to your will and so it shall be.

'To the greater glory of Yniss, who presides above all who walk this land. Hear us.'

'And so it shall be,' intoned Duele and Evunn.