Elves: Once Walked With Gods by James Barclay Page A

been spat at by people she knew. People she might have called friend. Today, as if some delicate strand had been torn to shreds, she was Ynissul, they were anything else but. Damned because they were loyal to an ula who had failed after saving so many of their brothers and sisters.
    They ran past the Lanyon Jail, its gates standing open. Nothing like a random assortment of bitter criminals to stoke the fires. They moved quickly along the Path of Yniss towards the temple piazza, which rested on higher ground bordering the rainforest to the north-east. Everywhere, elves had formed into gangs.
    Katyett shook her head. Most of them were single-thread gangs only. While the Ynissul were the principal targets of the, presumably Tuali-backed, aggression at the moment, history told them the flimsy unification of other threads would not last. No group that they passed offered anything more than verbal abuse to the TaiGethen cells and the thirty Al-Arynaar. Hardly surprising.
    There was a fire burning up at the piazza. Tall flames licked up and smoke billowed, black and oily. Katyett increased her pace, breaking into a sprint as she ran into the piazza and saw the crowd building there. She glanced at the sky, hoping for the rain to return, praying to Yniss to nudge the elbow of Gyal and set her tears to fall.
    The temple piazza was a place of beauty and tranquillity. Or rather it used to be. A circular open space a quarter of a mile across, centred around lawns and gardens, bordered by the city temples. Structures built with the passion of faith, reflecting the best qualities of elven dedication and flamboyance. From the stunning carved helical spires of the temple of Beeth, god of Root and Branch; to the spectacular entrance and mural-covered vestibule of the temple of Cefu, god of the Canopy; and the dominating temple of Shorth carved as a prone body, the piazza was testament to elven creativity.
    All of it at risk now but none more so than the relatively modest temple of Yniss. The temple was a circular structure with a low green-painted dome and a thirty-foot spire at each corner. It had timber steps leading up to brightly painted wooden doors. Upwards of two hundred elves surrounded the entrance. Many carried torches and their intentions for the temple were clear enough.
    A thin line of Al-Arynaar stood on the edge of the apron leading to the steps and more blocked access down the sides and to the rear. A few others stood on the steps, bows ready, but Katyett could see there was no desire to shoot.
    ‘Let’s get through this crowd, Pelyn. We need to hold them off until the rain comes.’
    ‘I’ll skirt left,’ said Pelyn, already motioning her warriors to move with her.
    Katyett headed straight through the centre of the crowd.
    ‘Tais, make a path. No weapons. We move.’
    Those at the rear of the crowd had sensed them coming and most were quick to move aside. Further in, attention was entirely on the temple. Katyett used her arms to ease people aside.
    ‘Move. Now. Disperse.’
    The Tais came after her, fanning out into a chevron behind her. She heard muttered curses and insults. One ula turned and stood his ground. Katyett walked on.
    ‘Move or fall. Your choice,’ said Katyett. ‘I will walk to my temple unhindered.’
    ‘Time changes, TaiGethen. I name my right to stand here. You cannot touch me. Not any more.’
    Katyett shook her head, dropped to her haunches and swept the ula ’s feet from under him. He fell onto his side and rolled onto his back. Katyett stood astride him.
    ‘Wrong,’ she said.
    The TaiGethen filled in around her, pushing back any who might come to his defence. The ula bunched his fists. Katyett sniffed.
    ‘I don’t want to hurt you. But if that’s what it takes to stop you, that is what I will do.’ She leant down towards him. ‘You are foolish if you think you can threaten the TaiGethen. Yniss guides us. Yniss keeps us for greater tasks. You are simply in the way. An impediment to be