‘You want to make them mistrust the TaiGethen?’

‘They have a mystique and it needs to be torn aside. And they all still follow Takaar’s way. They have to be beaten, and that happens as much in the mind as it does with the blade and your magic. Trust me. This was the right thing to do. I am sorry you lost some of your people. We need every one but we have to expect some to die.’ Sildaan gave a half shrug. ‘It’s dangerous here.’

‘Oh, you noticed.’

‘At least you’re still alive, Haleth,’ said Garan, but he was frowning. ‘Sildaan, perhaps you’d like to tell us why that is? I didn’t realise the TaiGethen were so careless.’

‘They aren’t,’ said Sildaan.

Haleth felt a chill despite the stultifying heat outside the temple.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning they let you go,’ said Sildaan.

Haleth’s gaze flicked to the forest that pressed in on all sides. It could be hiding an army. His mouth was dry and the terrified screams of his men echoed about his head again.

‘So they’ll be coming here,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Sildaan. ‘But not immediately.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Garan had clicked his fingers at someone Haleth couldn’t see before turning his attention to Sildaan. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, first, they have no need to follow you so closely. Their trail skills are quite extraordinary. And second, they want to give you time to recount your tale of terror to all who will hear before they come to finish the job they started.’

Haleth couldn’t cover every angle at once, so whichever way he turned, he felt eyes from the depths of the forest boring into his back. He realised he was shaking. He eyed the sanctuary offered by the temple. The place made him uneasy but at least he could put his back to a wall in there. Or hide somewhere very dark and quiet.

‘Then we must prepare,’ said Garan. ‘Ah, Keller, there you are.’

Garan’s lead mage was a man of average height, average features and wholly above average talent.

‘What do you need?’

‘I need you to infest the edges of this apron with wards. Alarms, disablers and destroyers. Plenty for my guards to stand behind anyway. We-’

‘What are you doing?’ asked Sildaan.

Less of a question, thought Haleth. More of a demand. Garan gave her a look that suggested she was simple. Her eyes just bored into him. Emotionless like the ghost in the forest.

‘I’m making us safe,’ said Garan. ‘Anyone who puts a foot on your stone will regret their final step. And anyone who survives that will face the swords of my warriors. Good, eh?’

‘Ridiculous,’ said Sildaan.

Haleth tensed. Garan’s face was stone.

‘This is fighting,’ he said. ‘This is my domain.’

Sildaan shook her head. ‘I will deal with these two. Clear the apron. Keep all your men out of sight. Now is probably a good time to give that order.’

Garan stared at her, Haleth watching him examining her for doubt and treachery. ‘You’d better know what you’re doing.’

‘This is my land,’ said Sildaan.

‘And what about the other Silent? The one who made such an easy mess of your loyal priests?’

‘By the time he chooses to return, we’ll be long gone.’ Sildaan looked at them each in turn. ‘So are we clear what needs doing?’

She strode away towards the temple. Garan huffed out a breath.

‘Patronising bitch.’

‘Yeah but you know what, boss?’ said Haleth.

‘What?’

‘Her dealing with those bastards while I’m somewhere else entirely seems to me the perfect plan.’

‘Except you can’t trust the sharp-ears. However far you think you are away, don’t turn your back, all right? I need you.’

‘I hear you, boss.’ The afternoon was on the wane when Auum and Serrin reached Aryndeneth. They had tracked the man’s footsteps easily. Evidence of desecration increased the nearer they approached the temple. They had to assume there had been an attack.

Auum brought Serrin to the fringe of the forest and together they looked over the empty apron towards the doors, which stood open. Inside, the temple was dark. It was so quiet.

‘It seems there will be no Feast of Renewal this year,’ said Auum. ‘Where are my brothers and sisters? And where are yours?’

Auum knew. Serrin knew. The temple was never left unguarded. It was never empty of worshippers and priests. There was only one reason the TaiGethen would be absent. Auum swallowed. He was staring at the unbelievable, the inconceivable. He felt nauseous. Only his fury at the defiling of his temple calmed his body, quelled the shaking in his limbs.

‘We must go in,’ said Serrin.

Auum nodded. He led Serrin around the edge of the apron and silently up to the doors. There were dark stains on the stone. Flies buzzed and swarmed. The whole place stank of death. He feared what they would find within. Waving Serrin into his wake, he entered.

The cool inside the temple, its peace and reverence, was instantly calming, yet Auum could not be at one with his favourite place on Calaius. No TaiGethen stood around the walls of the dome. No priests were at prayer in front of the statue of Yniss that dominated the huge space.

Between the precisely set windows, the walls and domed ceiling were covered in intricate murals. They depicted the coming of Yniss to Calaius before the first elves set foot there and the trials of the elven peoples to earn the right to live with the land. They charted the work of Takaar when he split his time between the two elven homes. And above the doors was a pictorial representation of the text Takaar had written regarding the energies he claimed to have felt on Calaius, energies that came to represent the heart of the harmony.

But no mural or historical record could vie for attention with the statue of Yniss, which rose seventy feet into the dome. Yniss, the father of the elves. Yniss, who gave them the gift of living as one with the land and its denizens, with the air and with the natural earth energies that were grasped in the hand of Ix, the most capricious of gods. Auum, as ever, let his eyes feast on the statue, which was carved from a single block of flint-veined polished pale stone.

Yniss was sculpted kneeling on one leg, head looking down along the line of his right arm. The arm was extended below his bended knee, thumb and forefinger making a right angle with the rest of the fingers curled half-fist. The god was depicted as an old elf, age lines around the eyes and across the forehead. His long full hair was carved blowing back over his right shoulder.

Yniss’s body was athletic perfection. A single-shouldered robe covered little more than groin and stomach, leaving open the bunching shoulders, beautifully defined arms and powerful legs. Yniss’s eyes seemed to sparkle with life, nothing more than a trick of the water at his feet and the light in the temple.

Yniss channelled his life energy along forefinger and thumb into the harmonic pool by which he knelt, from where it spread throughout the land, bringing glory where it touched. Pipes concealed beneath the statue’s thumb and forefinger fed water from an underground spring into the pool beneath the statue’s outstretched hand.

Some believed the statue and its precisely measured water flow was the final piece in the completion of the harmony, a circle of life in effect. Auum believed in the energy that maintained the earth but the statue had been created by elves, not their gods. It was not credible to believe anything deific had been bestowed upon it.

Auum and Serrin knelt before pool and statue and prayed to Yniss to preserve them for the tasks to come. Auum felt his prayer uncertain for the first time in his life and realised it was because, uniquely, he felt uncomfortable in here. When he caught Serrin’s gaze he knew the Silent felt the same way too.

‘Walk behind me,’ said Auum.

Serrin nodded. Auum kept the pool close on his right and walked around by the statue of Yniss. It was not unheard of for the temple to be empty but it was for the doors to the contemplation chambers and reading cells to be free of guards. Within, all the greatest treasures of the elven religion were kept. A lone figure was approaching along the passageway towards them. Auum felt a euphoric relief.