Harp of Winds

18 Spirit of the Peak

“And there you have it,” Anvar finished. “That’s the whole story—so far.” He took a sip of wine to moisten his throat. Elster was looking at him, her head cocked slightly to one side, her dark, bright eyes fixed upon his face. She frowned.

“Now I see why it took you so long to trust me with this.”

Anvar nodded. “I had to be convinced, in the first place, that I could trust you.”

“And you trust me now?” Elster’s eyes narrowed. “Gods, I’ve got to trust someone!” Anvar cried. “Elster, I must get out of here!”

The physician sighed. Ever since she and Cygnus had begun to visit this fascinating alien prisoner, her sympathy toward him had grown at an alarming rate. But to her shame, she had simply lacked the courage to assist him in any of his increasingly bizarre plans to escape. “Alas, Anvar, what can I do?” Her wings rustled as she shrugged. “My own life hangs by a thread, and were it not for my skills, Blacktalon would have had me murdered long ago. As it is, he is depending on me to heal Queen Raven—”

“How is she?” Anvar interrupted. Elster spread her wings helplessly. “She lives—but she will not speak, and we must force sustenance down her throat. When we enter the room, she turns her face to the wall. I see your eyes harden when I speak of her, yet if you saw her I am certain you would pity her. Though it is difficult to tell, since she will not speak to us, I’m sure she is bitterly ashamed of what she has done,”

“As far as I’m concerned, she brought her suffering on herself.” Anvar’s voice was hard, “Don’t ask me to pity her, Elster. Though even I was sickened by what was done to her, I can never forgive her for what she did.”

“Yet if you could only see the poor child, your heart might soften.” Elster shook her head sadly. “I cannot imagine what effect your news would have on her. Perhaps it would do more harm than good for her to know that her lover’s mind was in thrall to your ancient enemy—”

“Then you believe me?” Anvar relaxed a little. “I wasn’t sure that you would.”

Elster took the forgotten goblet from his hand, and drained the wine in a single swallow. “Oh, I believe you, Anvar. Too much of your tale rings true.” Turning, she groped for the flask in a dark corner beyond the firelight, and refilled the goblet before handing it back to him. “I can also believe that the High Priest has allied himself to an evil sorcerer,” she went on. “He is desperate to restore the lost magic of the Skyfolk, which perhaps is understandable. But Blacktalon’s mind has flown too high, and fallen into madness.” She grimaced. “He is convinced now that he is a new incarnation of the doomed Incondor.”

“What?” Anvar’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Aurian told me of Incondor, and how he brought about the Cataclysm.” He shook his head. “No wonder Blacktalon and Miathan chose one another. Both have gone beyond the bounds of sanity in their pursuit of power.” Anvar leaned forward and grasped the physician’s wrist. “Elster, you’ve got to help me escape!”

“Anvar, I cannot,” Elster interrupted flatly. “Not now. I would assist you, as would Cygnus, but Blacktalon keeps a constant watch on our movements. Besides, what could we do? The only way out of here is by flight, and Cygnus and I have not sufficient strength between us to bear you far enough to escape the warriors that the High Priest would send after us.”

“What about the other Winged Folk?” Anvar begged her, “Surely there must be some who oppose the High Priest?”

“No one dares. The city is paralyzed by fear and suspicion, Anvar. Blacktalon’s spies are everywhere, and it is impossible to discern who they may be. You must understand that there are many among us who would wish to see the Skyfolk in the ascendant once more—at whatever cost.” Elster sighed, “If there are those who would help us—and I’m sure there are—they dare not reveal themselves. Anvar, I truly wish to help you, but you must be patient. The time is not ripe to strike back at Blacktalon, If Cygnus and I were to contrive your release at this point, we would be unable to rally opposition against him. Not without the Queen, And it would be clear to him who had done the deed. We would lose our lives for naught.”

“But you could come with me!” Anvar interrupted. “The Gods only know, we could use you.”

Elster’s feathers hackled. “What—and abandon our rightful Queen? Without the skills of Cygnus and myself, Raven will die, for certain.” Seeing the flash of anger in Anvar’s eyes, she rose to her feet. “You may not care whether or not the Queen survives, Anvar—but I do. I must.” Seeing him about to protest, she took her leave hastily. “I will return when I can,” she promised, and launched herself, with unseemly haste for a Master and a physician, out of the mouth of the cave.

It was still dark, though a faint glimmer of dawn was beginning to brighten the bleak sky beyond the mountains. Elster beat upward, feeling the icy wind go whistling through her feathers, banking in a wide looping turn that took her well away from the mountain’s wall. To the physician’s relief, a few scattered lights could still be seen among the towers of the city, allowing her to get her bearings and head for home. She hated flying by night—the dangers could not be underestimated—but if she wanted to visit Anvar undetected, it was the only time to do it, while the other Winged Folk were safely at rest.

Elster’s home was located in a crumbling turret that clung to the side of an ancient building in the lower part of Aerillia. In Flame wing’s day, the physician’s quarters had been grander and close to the palace itself, but now she felt safer dwelling in obscurity and anonymity. A few leaks and drafts were well worth suffering if it kept her out of the High Priest’s way!

Landing with care on her snowy porch, Elster pushed open the door to her rooms—and hesitated, one hand on the latch, peering into the gloom within. Surely I left a lamp alight? she thought with a frown, and then shrugged. Perhaps it had gone out in her long absence, or been blown out by one of the whistling drafts. The physician had not gone three paces inside the room when she was seized.

“Why have I been arrested?” Bruised, bound, and guarded as she was, and facing Blacktalon’s hard, expressionless eyes, Elster had to fight to keep her voice steady. He knows, she thought despairingly. Oh Yinze—he must know! The physician had never been inside the priest’s high tower in the Temple of Incondor, and was unnerved by the tomblike blackness of the polished obsidian walls. Outside, the screeching plaint of Incondor’s Lament swirled round the tower, sending shivers through the physician’s body, and preventing her from concentrating her thoughts to form some kind of defense.

Blacktalon lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Did you really believe you were the only one prepared to fly in darkness?”

Elster stifled a gasp, and fought to keep her face expressionless. “What do you mean, High Priest? A physician must often fly in darkness, if there is an emergency—”

Blacktalon burst into peals of mirthless laughter—the most chilling sound that Elster had ever heard. “Elster, my spy was hiding just beyond the mouth of the cavern. He heard everything! Next time, if you insist on playing the innocent, I would suggest that you occasionally look outside whilst you are plotting with a prisoner.” His eyes glinted. “Not, of course, that there will be a next time for you, I have Cygnus to keep Raven alive, though your unguarded words condemned him also.” He shrugged. “For now, however, I will permit him to keep his life-—for as long as he is needed.” Again, that mirthless smile.

The flash of rage as she realized that Blacktalon was savoring her fear was the only thing that kept Elster from collapse—until the High Priest’s next words; “It has come to my attention, Elster, that you are lax in your religious observances. I have never yet seen you attend a sacrifice within the temple.” His voice grew hard. “Tonight, at sundown, we will rectify that omission. You shall experience the next ceremony—as the victim?”

Even by the standards of an Immortal, it had been a long time. Aeons had passed since the Moldan of Aerillia Peak had last been wakeful. She gauged the intervening centuries by the subtle differences in the society of the Winged Folk, who dwelt upon and within her body: the alterations in culture, clothing—and above all, the changes in the language. The Moldan was accustomed to such shifts. For her, the passing centuries were an eye’s blink apart. Nowadays, only events of great significance awakened her—momentous times, times of struggle and change. What had wakened her this time? The Moldan cast her senses forth, surveying the domain that was her body, roaming the flanks of the mountain that was her flesh and bone, and outer skin.

Ah—significant. On the upper reaches of her pinnacle, the temple whose foundations were being laid when she had last lost herself in the mists of sleep, had grown into a massive structure. The tortured rock, in the shape of a clawed and grasping hand, looked like melted, twisted bone, and the Moldan shuddered, reminded of the riven corpse of her brother, far to the east. What warped brain had designed such a hideous edifice?

Below the temple the city had prospered and grown. Here, the delicate beauty that she remembered as typical of Skyfolk architecture had blossomed into many new and incredible forms. In the past, the Moldan had been indifferent to the flitting Skyfolk who had colonized her after the departure of her own Dwelven population, looking upon them as trivial, ephemeral beings. Now, for the first time, she felt a smug sense of pride in their achievements. Apart from that hideous temple on her peak, their works had done much to adorn and accentuate her natural beauty.

With regret, the Moldan wrenched her attention away from her contemplation of the city of Aerillia. It was then that she felt it—the slow, erratic approach of a source of incredible power.

Dishes rattled in the upper city and possessions fell from shelves as a thrill of mingled terror and delight ran through the Moldan’s massive form. In her lonely tower, the captive Queen Raven twisted in her sleep, and cried out in pain. In the Temple of Incondor, Blacktalon looked up frowning from the sacrifice he was about to dispatch, as the menacing black edifice shuddered on its massive foundations. In the older quarter of the city, a crumbling parapet toppled, and went crashing down the mountain’s face in a cloud of snow.

The Moldan paid no heed to the puny beings that infested her slopes. Her entire attention was fixed on the approaching Staff of Earth.

“Anvar? Anvar, can you hear me? For the last time, will you not answer?” Shia waited, her head cocked expectantly, for the space of many breaths, but no reply was forthcoming. Despondently, the cat turned back to her companions.

“The human must be asleep,” she sighed. “I cannot wake him.”

Khanu shook his mane. “So what do we do now?” he demanded. Hreeza lifted a heavy paw and cuffed him into silence. He whirled on her, eyes flashing balefully, but Shia stopped his retaliation with a sharp command. She knew that although the old cat was making a valiant effort to hold fast to her courage, Hreeza was dismayed, as were they all, by what they had found at the end of their journey.

Had Shia been human, she might have railed against the gods at the unfairness of it. The long struggle up the stony knees and snowy breast of Aerillia Peak had been difficult and toilsome, taking them several hard and hungry days of traveling under the cover of darkness to foil the farseeing vigilance of their skyborne foes. As the cats made their slow ascent, the cultivated terraces of the Winged Folk had given way to steep, sloping valleys clad in spruce and hemlock, which thinned at last to reveal a stark and lonely land of soaring crags and snow-scoured rock.

Shia and her companions had forced their way ever higher, going ever more slowly as the snow grew deeper, and the whistling winds grew ever more chill. Despite their thick coats, the cats were pierced through and through by cold and hunger, for all animal life had long since fled from the inhospitable upper slopes of the peak. Grimly they had struggled on, Khanu and Hreeza driven forward by Shia’s threat to leave them where they lay, should they founder. This dawn had found the cats scrambling in single file, up between the jaws of a narrow, snow-choked gorge. As they reached the top, the fanged crags dropped away to their right, to reveal the lower mountains of the northern range spread out beneath them, their jagged, snow-capped peaks seeming to float like islands on a sea of blood red cloud. The smoldering ball of the newly risen sun lurked beyond the hunched shoulders of the mountains, glowering beneath low brows of heavy cloud that capped the sky above.

The weather-wise Hreeza growled low in her throat. “I don’t like the look of that,” she muttered.

“If you don’t like that, I suggest you take a look in the opposite direction.” Shia’s mental voice was choked. The old cat turned away from the baleful sunrise—and her breath grew still in her throat. Up, she looked, and up, at soaring walls of stone . . .

“Well, what do we do now?” Khanu repeated, keeping a wary distance between himself and Hreeza. “I can’t see how we could possibly climb up there.”

“I don’t know.” Shia glared at the Staff of Earth where it lay on the snowy ground, fighting the furious urge, born of pure frustration, to chew the wretched, troublesome thing into splinters. Her breath huffed out in a crystal cloud as she sighed. “I suppose we must wait until Anvar awakes—perhaps he knows of some way up.”

Hreeza looked again at the smooth, sheer curtains of stone that soared straight upward and disappeared into the clouds above.

Shia could sense a strange reluctance in her old friend’s mien, and wondered what was coming. “Well?” she said at last. “Are you going to chew on that thought like an old bone for the rest of the day, or will you spit it out and share it with us?”

The old cat refused to meet her gaze. “Are you so certain,” she said slowly, “that the human merely sleeps? What if he is dead?”

Flame kindled in the depths of Shia’s eyes. “I will not accept that.” Her voice was laden with quiet menace. “Aurian’s foes need Anvar as a hostage—why would they kill him?”

“Yet I sense your doubt,” Hreeza persisted. “Anything may have happened. An accident—a change of plan ... To stay up here, exposed to the weather and our enemies is folly!”

“Anvar is not dead!” Shia bared her teeth, advancing threateningly on the old cat.

“Why not wait a while, and see?” Khanu broke the tension between the bristling females. “After all,” he added, “we did not come all this long and arduous way just to give up so soon. And while we wait for Shia’s human to wake, we can always explore the foot of this cliff. Perhaps there may be an easier place to climb, farther along.”

Shia looked at him gratefully. Khanu was beginning to develop both the sharper wits of a hunting female and the common sense of an older, more experienced beast. Right now, she appreciated his intervention. It was imperative that Anvar be released before the birth of Aurian’s child, in order to give the Mage freedom to act to save the cub’s life. The slow and difficult journey to this place had driven the great cat into a fever of anxious impatience, but that was no excuse for her unreasoning anger at Hreeza’s prevarication. With unswerving loyalty, the old cat had followed her all this way—only to be defeated, in the end, by this last unconquerable obstacle. Even if Khanu and I can find a way to climb that cliff, Shia thought, Hreeza cannot—and she knows it. That is the true reason behind her obstructive attitude—she can’t bear the humiliation of being left behind.

“You think there might be an easier way up elsewhere?” Hreeza was demanding of Khanu. Bless him, Shia thought, for restoring my old friend’s hope—if only for a time.

Khanu twitched his whiskers forward in the cat equivalent of a grin. “Why not?” he said cheerfully. “I certainly hope there is—for though you may be able to scramble up there, the climb is far beyond my skills!”

“Let us go, then, youngster, and try to find a place that won’t overtax you!” Hreeza’s eyes were bright again. Before Shia picked up her burden of the Staff once more, she briefly touched noses with the young male in a heartfelt gesture of thanks.

“Shia? Is it really you?”

Anvar’s mental tones were ringing with joy and relief, though the cat was certain that no one in the world could be more relieved than she, to make contact with the Mage at last. It was worth this long and dreadful journey to feel his hope blaze up, renewed, when she told him that Aurian had sent her with the Staff of Earth.

“Dear Gods,” Anvar cried, “I saw you, in a dream, as you were crossing the mountains—but I thought it was only the fever!”

But Anvar was anxious for news of Aurian, and could listen to nothing else until she had told him what little she knew. Because of her stronger link with the Mage, Shia hoped to establish mental contact once Aurian’s powers returned, as did Anvar himself. Whether this would prove possible over such a distance, only time would tell.

Unfortunately, Anvar could offer the cat no help with her present difficulty, “The cliff is utterly sheer for as far as I can see,” he told her. “To my left there’s a waterfall, about the length of a bowshot away from the cave, but that won’t be much use to you—the torrent is very swift, and it doesn’t look as though you can get behind it.”

“At least it will tell us where to find the human,” Khanu pointed out to Shia. Although he could “hear” Anvar, he had not yet found the confidence to address this alien creature directly.

“Your friend has a point,” said Anvar, when Shia passed on the young cat’s contribution.

“He certainly does,” she agreed. “We’ve been searching since sunup, and found no trace of any way to ascend. I was hoping for a tunnel, perhaps, but—”

“No, it won’t be as easy as Dhiammara. I’ve explored this cave thoroughly, and there’s no other exit. Gods! Shia”—Anvar’s thoughts were tense with frustration—“are you sure you can’t scale the cliff?”

“Never fear, we’ll keep looking,” Shia told the Mage “These low clouds will shield us from any watchers above.”

“These clouds are also ready to drop another lot of snow on our heads’ Hreeza pointed out, but no one was paying her any attention. Shaking her head in dismay, the old cat limped stiffly in the wake of the others, as they set out to search once more.

An hour later, Shia was wishing she had listened to Hreeza’s warnings. The cats had worked their way along the base of the cliffs until they found the massive waterfall, and it was then, as they explored the churning green pool at the foot of the cascade, that the snow began to fall.

Thick and fast came the whirling, heavy flakes. Whipped into flurries by the rising wind, they drifted deeply in the angle at the foot of the cliffs, making it impossibly dangerous to seek shelter there. Indeed, the only shelter on this windswept plateau lay far behind them—the gorge where they had made their original ascent.

“Well, it’s no use trying to get back there now’ Hreeza pointed out, “We would perish long before we reached it,”

Despite her thick, shaggy coat she was shivering violently, her black fur already plastered white with a clinging sheath of snow. “We may as well keep going, and try to find a place to shelter somewhere along the foot of the cliff.”

Shia looked doubtfully at the growing drifts. “Even supposing there is shelter, it will be buried out of our sight,” She took a tighter grip on the Staff of Earth. “There’s only one thing to be done, I must climb up the cliff to Anvar now, before this cold seeps the last of my strength!

“Shia, you cannot! No one could hope to climb that cliff!” Hreeza protested. “Would you die for naught?”

“Far from it.” Shia held the old cat’s eyes with an unwavering gaze. “Hreeza, this matter is greater than all of us. Anvar must have the Staff, or not only the lives of my friends will be lost, but the entire world besides.”

Shia’s quiet determination robbed Hreeza of words. She looked away from her friend. “Very well,” she mumbled, her mental voice hushed with emotion. “You must do as you must, my friend. But Shia—be careful. If you lose your life in this climb, I must avenge you, and these new enemies of yours are too much for one old cat to handle!.”

“Shia, I will come with you,” Khanu offered eagerly.

“The great cat glared at the younger male. “You will not!”

“Why not?” Khanu sulked. “If you can do it, so can I—and you will need me when you reach the top. There are many foes upon that mountain, as well as Anvar.”

Shia sighed. “Khanu, you may be right. But hear me out. I have good reason for wanting you to stay behind, for if I should falter and fall, then you must take my place, and climb with the Staff in my stead.”

Khanu’s eyes grew very wide, but he said nothing, Shia, taking his silence for acquiescence, turned from her friends with soft words of farewell, and began to climb,

Anvar, safe from the blizzard in the cave above, was frantic. He cursed, and drew a weary hand across his eyes. During his illness, the Mage had lost track of how many days he had spent in this accursed hole, but he was sure that the birth of Aurian’s child must now be imminent. Only sheer Magefolk stubbornness had prevented him from giving up hope over these last days, and Shia’s sudden appearance with the Staff had seemed nothing less than a miracle. Now, however, it was as though the cup of hope had been offered to him by the capricious gods, only to be dashed from his lips once more.

Shia’s sendings were becoming progressively weaker; as the cats struggled on in the teeth of the storm, fighting their way forward against the bone-piercing blast of the wind that heaped the snow ever deeper in their path. Pacing back and forth across the stony floor of the cave, Anvar raged against his helplessness. Gods, if only I could help them, he thought. There must be something I can do! Then, as if to add to his torment, the rough old voice of a strange cat flashed into his mind, with a message that turned him cold with dread.

“Human—we can find no other way up. Shia has to climb up to you, so it will be as well if you do not try to speak to her for a while. She will need all her concentration, if she is to survive.”

“Stop her! She mustn’t do this!” Anvar cried. “It’s not possible to climb that cliff!” In his mind, he heard the cat’s dry, humorless chuckle.

“It’s too late to stop her. Already she climbs. But bear in mind that what is impossible for a human may not be so for a cat. Her claws can find the tiniest crevices, and she can stretch her limbs for distances that a mere human could not reach.”

Then Anvar heard a note of doubt creep into the old cat’s voice, “That is, if her strength holds out.” Hreeza’s voice faded into a sorrowful silence.

Anvar rushed to the cave mouth and hung perilously over the edge, trying to peer down through the layers of cloud and twisting veils of snow, h was hopeless. The storm obscured everything. Realizing that it would take Shia some time to accomplish her climb, and that it would serve no purpose to stay out here and freeze, Anvar returned to his fire. Numb with horror, he sat down, staring sightlessly at the flickering, frost-blue flames, and began to pray. At the foot of the cliff, the old cat turned from her conversation with the frantic human—and found herself alone. Above her head she caught a flicker of movement, as Khanu’s tail vanished into the blizzard. Hreeza’s own tail lashed in anger. “Come back, you young fool,” she roared. “Shia ordered you to stay down here.”

From above her, Khanu’s voice came strained and stilted as he struggled to maintain his hold on the sheer face of the mountain. “Shia was wrong,” he interrupted flatly. “I have no doubt that she’ll reach the top—and when she does, she will need my help.” A note of cunning entered his voice, “Of course, if you were to tell her what I’m up to, it might prove a fatal distraction—but that is between you and your conscience, old one. Now leave me alone—this climb is harder than it looks.”

Hreeza, snarling with frustration, turned away from the dreadful cliff. She had no gods to invoke, and lacked the human relief of cursing. Her companions, discounting her as too old, worn out, and spent to attempt the climb, had not even thought of including her in their plans. Driven by the urgency of their quest, they had left her to survive the blizzard as best she might. Rage and resentment flashed through Hreeza, sending a surge of hot blood through limbs that were already growing stiff and numb. Leave her to perish in the snow, would they? Well, she’d see about that! There was life in the old cat yet—and she would sell that life dearly, and on her own terms!

How long had she been climbing? Shia had no recollection. Time had stretched so that eternity encompassed this icy stretch of cliff to which she clung with the strength of pure desperation; yet the boundaries of her world had narrowed and shrunk to a scant few feet of stone, and the next, narrow chip or chink in the rock that might provide a slender purchase for her blunted, shredded claws.

Shia’s head was swimming with weariness, and the Staff, clenched in her aching jaws, interfered with her breathing and obstructed her vision. Her limbs, unnaturally splayed to hold her close to the cliff and locked for so long in that one position, felt as though they were strung together by strands of searing fire that ran into her body to bind her laboring lungs in a viselike embrace. With her entire weight suspended from her claws, Shia dared not think of the endless plunge to oblivion that awaited her should she weaken, even for an instant. She very carefully kept her thoughts away from the near-impossibility of the task that she had set herself Instead, she simply kept on going, refusing to give in, fighting an endless series of small battles for each new burning breath, and moving laboriously, one paw at a time, inch by inch, like a small black fly that crawled across the face of that vast, unyielding wall of stone.

“Shia?” Anvar’s tentative voice cut across her concentration like a whipcrack. Jerked abruptly from its of suffering, exertion, and endurance, the will of the great cat faltered. Shia’s weight seemed to suddenly double, and her claws scrabbled frantically at the slick stone surface as she slid for several inches, almost dropping the Staff, her claws digging deep grooves in the crumbling rock, her heart leaping into her throat, until she reached a spot where the cliff leaned slightly backward, and she could find her hold again.

Anvar’s cry of horror still echoed around the rocks above her. When the pounding of blood in her ears had quieted, Shia heard him cursing himself in an uninterrupted stream of oaths, in a voice that shook more than a little. The great cat leaned her head wearily against the icy stone and waited for her breathing to steady and her limbs to stop trembling. In the meantime, she diverted her thoughts from her brush with death by telling Anvar exactly what she thought of him. It took quite a while, and by the time she had finished, Shia felt ready to go on,

Now that she was aware of her surroundings, the cat noticed that the blizzard was slackening—and she also saw why Anvar had been forced to risk distracting her.

“You need to move across to your left now, Shia,” he told her, “You were going to miss the cave entirely,”

Shia forgave him at once. Above her, the cliff stretched on and on beyond the dark blot that marked the cave mouth, and Shia shuddered at the thought of climbing endlessly, until her strength gave out and she fell—

“Stop that!” Anvar’s voice cut firmly across her despairing thoughts. “Come on, Shia,” he wheedled, “you can do it now. Why, you’re almost there!”

His words put new heart into the exhausted cat Anvar was right, of course. Why, given the distance she had already come, this last little stretch would be nothing! “At times like this, I can see why Aurian is so fond of you,” she told the Mage gratefully, Buoyed by the warmth of her friendship with this human, Shia gathered the last dregs of her faltering strength and began to climb again.

With one last weary heave, the great cat hauled herself over the lip of the cavern entrance, assisted by Anvar’s strong grasp around her upper limbs. At long last she relinquished her precious burden, dropping the Staff of Earth at Anvar’s feet with a soaring sense of triumph, before collapsing bonelessly to the ground.

Shia lay, her chest heaving, her vision dim with exhaustion, as Anvar’s hands gently smoothed the pain from her cramped and trembling limbs. His touch sent a tingling warmth through strained and weary muscles, and in its wake, Shia felt a glow of well-being and energy renewed. As her vision began to clear, she saw the haze of shimmering blue round his hands, and realized that Anvar was using magic, as Aurian had done in the desert, to restore a measure of strength to her. After a few minutes, Shia stretched luxuriously and sat up.

Anvar ceased his ministrations to lay a gentle hand on the cat’s sleek, broad head. “That was a mighty climb, my brave friend,” he told her softly, with a catch in his voice. “Shia, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, you’d better think of a way,” Shia retorted tartly, “because I don’t intend to do it again!”

Laughing with pure relief, Anvar threw his arms around the great cat, hugging her hard, and Shia rolled over on her back like a playful kitten, wrapping her great paws around him, and rubbing her head against his shoulder as the cavern reverberated to the booming rumble of her purr.

“Help me . . .”

Had it not been for that anguished mental cry, Anvar would never have noticed the weak and pitiful whimper that accompanied it. The tiny sound would have passed unnoticed in the midst of his joyful and boisterous reunion with Shia. “What the blazes was that?” the Mage demanded as he disentangled himself from the great cat’s embrace.

“It had better not be who I think it is,” Shia muttered wrathfully as they rushed to the cave mouth to peer out,

“Gods save us!” Anvar cried. “Another one!”

Shia peered past the Mage. “It’s Khanu,” she said.

Anvar could see the young cat hanging by his fore-paws just below the lip of the cavern—in trouble and plainly at the end of his strength. Already, his grip was beginning to loosen.

“Anvar, can you reach him?” Shia cried.

The Mage was already on his stomach, leaning out over the drop. “Curse it, I can’t—not quite . . . But wait! I know!”

Scrambling up, Anvar dashed back into the cave and returned with the Staff of Earth. Holding tightly to the head that bore the crystal, he lowered the other end down to the terrified young cat.

“Grab this, and hold on tight!” Anvar instructed. As Khanu grabbed the Staff in his jaws, the Mage linked his will with the mighty powers of the Staff—and pulled, as though hooking a fish from a river, Khanu, the Staff held tight in his jaws, came flying up the last few feet of the cliff, impelled by Anvar’s strength augmented out of all proportion by the power of the Staff,

Unfortunately, the Mage had overestimated the amount of force he would need. The cat went hurtling into the cave past Anvar and Shia, Jolted out of his grip on the Staff, he went rolling across the floor, narrowly missing the fire, to fetch up hard against the farther wall, where he lay, stunned, bruised, and breathless as Anvar and Shia ran toward him.

“You wretch! You idiotic young fool!” Shia was already snarling. “Did I not tell you to stay behind?”

Khanu, in no state, as yet, to defend himself, looked utterly wretched, but even as Anvar felt a twinge of sympathy for the young cat, the merest flicker of shadow across the bright cave mouth caught the corner of his eye. Damn! Skyfolk! Thinking quickly, Anvar picked up the pile of catskins that lay by his bed and flung them over Shia and Khanu in their shadowy corner. “Don’t move! Don’t make a sound!” he warned the cats, as just in time he remembered to hide the Staff away out of sight.

The sound of Winged Folk entering stilled Shia’s shocked and furious protests. Now that the blizzard had ceased, Anvar’s guards were bringing his daily ration of food, and the Mage cursed himself for having forgotten. Thank the gods they didn’t come any sooner, he thought.

As soon as Anvar’s captors had left, Shia and Khanu emerged from beneath the pile of furs as though they had been scalded. Both cats were shaking with anger and revulsion, and Anvar didn’t blame them. He knew how he would feel, if he had been forced to conceal himself beneath a pile of human corpses. Dropping to his knees, he put an arm around each of the great cats. “I’m sorry,” he told them softly, “but it was the only way to hide you.”

Khanu slunk into a corner and began to retch, but Shia glared balefully at the pile of catskins, “How many skins would you say are there?” she asked Anvar, Her voice held the bite of ice and steel.

“Ten—a dozen, maybe,” Anvar told her. “To be honest, I needed them in order to survive, but they filled me with such horror that I never wanted to examine them closely. I can’t bear the sight of them.” He shuddered.

The great cat looked at him gravely. “You are a friend of cats, Anvar. Those who once wore these pelts would not begrudge you their use now. But as for those murdering Skyfolk—” Her gaze kindled like cold fire. “You have the Staff now, Anvar—when do we start? I wish to kill today. The Skyfolk will pay for this atrocity in blood.”

Anvar had no quarrel with Shia’s sentiments—he had wasted enough time kicking his heels in this accursed hole, and he too had debts to pay. “But first you and Khanu must eat, and rest a little more,” he told her. “Once I start this, I want to be thorough.”

While Shia and her companion shared the meat brought by the Winged Folk, Anvar picked up the Staff of Earth and sat down beside the fire with the slender, serpent-carved Artifact in his hands. At the Mage’s touch, the green crystal clasped in the serpents’ jaws began to bloom with a growing emerald radiance, as the magically charged wood vibrated and hummed with such power that Anvar had to exert every ounce of his will to keep the energy contained and dampened until it could be focused. This Staff was Aurian’s gift, and the key to his freedom, brought to him beyond all hope by Shia’s heroic journey. Buoyed by the thought of his love, Anvar began to formulate his plans of escape and vengeance.

Elster, though she dared not help him openly, had been lavish with her information. Though he had only seen the edifice from a distance, Anvar knew that the menacing structure that crowned Aerillia Peak was the focus and seat of Blacktalon’s power, and the place where he would most likely be found. With the awesome power of the Staff of Earth that Aurian and Shia had managed, against all odds, to put into his hands, Anvar would be able to strike directly at the temple—right through the heart of the mountain.

Briefly, the Mage’s lips curled back in the grimmest of smiles. Too long had he and Aurian been helpless and imprisoned, Now it was time to turn the tables on their foes. By all the gods, he was looking forward to this.