Elves: Rise of the TaiGethen by James Barclay Page B

right up until the moment they lose their minds. She’s still alive, is she?’
    ‘Dead addicts don’t make any money. Dead governors don’t pass handy new laws. The suppliers are careful. After all, the birth rates are so low now that they have a practically stagnant population. They can’t afford to start killing them.’
    Boltha barked out a laugh. ‘We should torch the place.’
    ‘I hear you, old friend, but not everyone there has sunk so low. Some still work and there are many people still praying for redemption in Katura.’
    ‘Which god will hear them?’ Boltha’s tone was harsh. ‘It’s a cesspit, nothing more.’
    ‘And you did nothing to help when you took your thread away.’
    Methian hadn’t meant it quite the way it came out and he saw Boltha’s face pinch in sudden anger.
    ‘We did nothing that Auum didn’t do when he took the Ynissul from Katura almost before a tree was felled to build the damn place.’
    ‘He had to,’ snapped Methian. ‘He had to develop the new TaiGethen and provide adepts for the Il-Aryn, and the Ynissul birth rate is so low that every new Ynissul child is cause for a celebration as if the gods were walking the forest once more. What excuse did you have? You whose hands helped to build what you now despise.’
    ‘We relied on the Al-Arynaar. Your leader’s spectacular failure is the seed of all that Katura has become. I only removed my thread when the reports began to say innocent elves were being forced into addiction. And what riches are the harvesters and dealers making for themselves, I wonder?’
    ‘Land,’ said Methian. ‘What else? Pelyn was given the power to grant each elf land in the forest and on the plain. Much of it is in the hands of the Tuali and Beethan drug gangs now. They are strong. They own Katura.’
    Boltha raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Has anyone told Auum?’
    ‘Auum hasn’t been here in over fifty years. No TaiGethen come here.’ Methian sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I do not mean to bait you.’
    Boltha smiled. ‘You and I will always clash, as our threads dictate. So why did you invite me on this hike with you? Not to recreate our journeys of past years, I’m sure.’
    ‘No, indeed,’ said Methian. ‘Come, let’s sit. I’ve got some rather good spirit and some bread, tapir and dried fruit too.’
    ‘I knew I could rely on you,’ said Boltha.
    The old Apposan, still strong of arm, chopped some scrub and vines away from a fallen log and the two old friends sat. Methian reached into his backpack and passed Boltha a clay jug stoppered with a wood plug.
    ‘Sip it,’ he said. ‘Strong stuff.’
    Boltha took a swallow. He breathed in slowly and Methian smiled as he imagined the liquid burning its way down his throat.
    ‘Where does that come from?’ said Boltha. ‘Tastes a bit like yams.’
    ‘Yes, but we’ve distilled it with guarana. Makes you drunk but you don’t want to sleep. Helps with the headache next day, too.’
    Boltha took another sip and passed the jug back to Methian.
    ‘At least you haven’t wasted your whole life.’
    Methian sniffed the jug before wetting his lips with the spirit and then letting a long trickle run down his throat.
    ‘I’m old, Boltha,’ he said once he’d stoppered the jug and fished in his pack for the bread and meat. ‘But I’ve only just begun feeling it. I was a warrior of the Al-Arynaar for over three hundred years and I am as proud of that as I am of being Gyalan.
    ‘I’ve seen the very best of the elven spirit and believed that we were genuinely entering a golden age of harmony and progress. But the last years have been relentless decline and conflict and I find I cannot accept that as the epitaph of my life in service.’
    ‘Why do you think I took my leave? Katura is a cancer.’
    ‘Yes!’ said Methian, and he felt the spirit coursing round his blood energising him. ‘And it must be excised.’
    ‘So talk to your erstwhile leader, if she ever returns to lucidity. How many