Heritage Of The Xandim

25

OUT OF THE DARK

Iriana and her companions were late making camp that night. Over the last few days they had moved steadily onward into the heart of the forest, climbing all the time as the land rose steadily towards the flanks of the mountains. After following the course of the river for so long, the road had finally veered away and the look and feel of the terrain was changing as oak, birch and chestnut began to be mixed with aspen, maple, pine and spruce. Even the sound of the forest was different, Iriana mused, as her tired horse trudged up the trail. The flutter and rustle of the breeze through the broad-leaved trees was now mingled with a rushing whisper that rose and fell like the sound of the sea, as the cool, resin-spiced wind soughed through the soaring branches of the conifers.

Though every one of Iriana’s senses combined with the vision of her animals in showing her surroundings of heart-lifting beauty, she’d had enough for one day, and wished with all her heart that Esmon would find a campsite and let her rest. Now that they were nearing the borders of the Phaerie realm - for tomorrow they would be entering that hostile territory - the Warrior was determined to find a spot in which the travellers and their horses would be invisible from the air. There would be no more comforting campfires from now on, either. Not while there was a risk of the Wild Hunt riding overhead.

The sun was sinking into a leaden mass of dense grey cloud that was stacking around the southern and western horizon, and Iriana felt a shiver of foreboding.

‘We’d better hurry up and find somewhere to camp, Esmon,’ she said. ‘It looks as if there’s a storm on the way.’

‘We can’t stop until I find a safe place,’ the implacable voice floated back over Esmon’s shoulder. ‘We’re too near the border and I want us hidden from the Hunt. Better tired now than dead before morning.’

Avithan sighed. ‘We can’t argue with that.’

Boreas, the great eagle, would be ready to land and rest for the night, and Iriana called him down to her arm, planning to transfer him to his perch on the back of the packhorse, which Avithan was currently leading. But to her astonishment, there was no response from the bird.

This had never happened before. Iriana, concerned, abandoned the vision of her horse and flung her mind into the skies, searching for the errant one. He made the link with reluctance, barely acknowledging her presence, almost brushing her away. Grimly, she held on, looking out through his eyes, trying to see where he was and why he had strayed.

Iriana gasped at the soaring white peaks that surrounded them in stunning grandeur. Boreas had sped north, to the mountains beyond the Phaerie realm. Iriana’s heart sank. Deep inside she knew why he had flown so far afield. She would do anything not to face the truth, but unfortunately, there was no choice. He had followed an imperative even more urgent than his loving bond with her. Whirling and tumbling around him was another eagle - and she sensed from his mind that it was a female. Boreas, the lonely, solitary creature who’d been taken so far from his natural home had returned at last. And he’d found a mate.

He was going to leave her. Her heart breaking, Iriana remained a part of their dizzy courtship dance as the pair swirled and spun, looped and circled and soared, going higher and higher until even the mighty peaks looked like insignificant hillocks beneath them. Then suddenly they locked claws and fell together in a flutter of wings and racing heartbeats. Iriana tore herself away then, leaving them to find a suitable ledge and mate at last; to build their nest and rear their chicks.

Eagles mated for life.

He wouldn’t be coming back.

‘Iriana, what’s wrong?’ She felt Avithan’s arms around her, and the hot flood of tears that were soaking her face. ‘Esmon, stop. Something’s happened to Iriana.’

When she choked out her news they were kind and sympathetic, but how could they possibly know how much this meant to her; how deeply she felt the separation? She had been closely linked with the bird since Boreas was hatched. Yet even as she grieved for her loss, Iriana felt a sense of immense pride. Boreas had found his own mate, his own life. In bringing him on this journey she had brought him home, to his own world. He had found a mate, and one day his offspring would wheel among the peaks, fishing in the sparkling mountain lakes.

After a time, Melik helped her pull herself together by sticking his claws into her arm with high-pitched wails of irritation.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Avithan demanded.

‘Shut him up, for goodness sake,’ Esmon added.

‘He wants his supper, and a nice, cosy tent instead of a moving horse,’ Iriana replied.

‘He has my sympathy.’ Avithan fidgeted and stretched in the saddle. ‘I want exactly the same things.’

‘Don’t we all?’ Iriana said ruefully. ‘Esmon, surely we can’t go much further?’

‘What do you want me to do? I can’t find a place.’ For the first time since they had set out on their journey, Esmon sounded worried.

The clouds were moving inexorably towards them, and shadowy dusk lurked beneath the thick boughs on either side of the path. The horses were stumbling with weariness.

When darkness fell, the Wild Hunt would ride, and they were out, unprotected, on the open trail.

Iriana hesitated, then spoke. ‘Esmon, perhaps I can find somewhere for us. Seyka can look further off the trail.’

‘At this point, I’d be willing to consider anything.’

Iriana let an impatient Seyka out of her basket. She stroked the bird, running her hands over the soft white feathers. At least Seyka had stayed with her. The white owl gripped the wicker rim with her claws, stretched her wings a time or two, and floated, silent as a ghost, away into the woods.

Iriana pushed her horse alongside Avithan’s mount. ‘Keep an eye on Dailika, will you, please? I’m going to link with Seyka and take a look around, or we’ll never find anywhere to stop tonight. Maybe there’s a camping place further from the road.’

Avithan nodded. ‘Do you want me to lead her?’

‘No, I can trust her to follow her companions - she’s trained to do that. Just be there to grab her bridle if anything spooks her.’

Iriana let herself share the owl’s vision for a few moments as she hunted. The world lost its colour as she made the link, turning monochrome as she flew with Seyka, swooping and banking low beneath the trees. Every detail: each flake of bark, each vein of a leaf, every single blade of grass had become absolutely clear and distinct; the keen eyes of the bird searching for any unusual movement that might betray the presence of prey.

With a little more difficulty, she concentrated hard and tuned into Seyka’s hearing, which was far more acute than her own. Each tiny rustle, each buzz of gnat and fly, the breathing and heartbeats of the horses, their riders and the tiny creatures in the undergrowth: all were magnified, and it was even possible to discern their distance and direction.

Iriana was so immersed in the sensations of the flight and the hunt that she almost overlooked the sound of the river. It was different now, its tranquil murmur changed to bubbling laughter as the young stream skipped and raced along. ‘Esmon, stop,’ she called. ‘I can hear the river again, away to the right of the trail.’

Up ahead, the sound of hoofbeats stopped, then started again as Esmon rode back. ‘You’ve found the river? Good girl. But are you sure, Iriana? I can’t hear anything.’

‘Neither can I, with my own ears. But Seyka heard it.’

‘How far away do you think it is?’

‘Not too far, but I’m not exactly sure of the location. It’s sometimes difficult to keep track of where she’s going when she’s swooping and banking through the trees.’

Esmon thought for a moment. ‘Avithan, hang on to Iriana’s horse. Iriana, link with Seyka again. Can you get her to find the river?’

‘I’ve never tried with the owl,’ Iriana told him, ‘but sometimes I can get Melik and Bear to go to a place if I put an image in their minds.’

‘Well, let’s find out. I’ll head off the trail in that general direction, and when you’ve found the river, send Seyka to me and I’ll follow her back. If she can’t do it, give me a call in mindspeech. We shouldn’t be shouting this close to the border if we can possibly help it.’

Iriana nodded and settled herself in the saddle. Casting her mind forth, she found the owl, who had just spotted a fat mouse scurrying between the tree roots, completely oblivious to her silent presence. She was just tensing herself to swoop when Iriana called her back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told Seyka in mindspeech, ‘but you’ve got all night to hunt. I just need to borrow your eyes for a little while longer.’

Reluctantly, the owl abandoned its prey and flew on into the trees. Iriana tried to send images of water into its mind, and after a few moments of weaving flight between tree trunks, she heard the sound of the splashing stream again. Seyka burst out of the trees into the open, and to Iriana’s delight, she had found the perfect camping place. It was not so much a clearing as a wide margin around a large pond that had been created by a beaver dam. The young river poured in from the north over a step of rock - about waist-high, it was too small to be called a waterfall - and flowed out across the tangled barrier of sticks at the opposite end of the broad, shining pool. On the side closest to the trail a massive chestnut tree grew, its broad, sheltering boughs overhanging the area between the water and the forest’s brink.

Water, shelter, cover from the air. The place was perfect, and Iriana could not have been more gratified by Esmon’s nod of approval as he rode out of the trees, picking leaves and twigs from down the neck of his tunic, and looked around. She left the owl to continue her interrupted hunting, and returned to the very different vision of her horse. ‘Esmon liked it,’ she said to Avithan, with a big smile. ‘I could tell by his face. Oh, thank goodness we can stop and rest at last.’

‘Listen - he’s coming back now,’ Avithan said.

The Warrior emerged from the trees onto the trail once more, mopping at the blood from a scratch on his bald head. ‘It’s something of a scramble to get there if you haven’t got wings,’ he said, ‘but the place is too perfect to quibble about that. Besides, there’s no harm in being fairly inaccessible from the road. Let’s get going, you two. We’re already losing daylight. Once we’re down, I’ll come back up here on foot and do my best to hide the place where we left the track.’

Avithan and Iriana exchanged an uneasy thought. Now they were so close to the border, what had seemed like a light-hearted adventure to begin with had become deadly serious. As they turned their horses to follow Esmon, the Warrior’s posture and demeanour communicated a new sense of caution and the need for stealth.

Esmon was right - it was something of a scramble, down a steep bank thickly overgrown with trees. Iriana, using her horse’s eyes to navigate the slope, had to crouch low in the saddle: not the ideal position under the circumstances. Every moment it felt as though she would slide over Dailika’s head, and the horse was finding it difficult to keep its balance with her weight thrown so far forward. The wild, hair-raising slither was soon over, however, and they were out in the open again on the banks of the pond. She straightened up gratefully, pushing her hair, which had been caught on twigs and pulled out of her braid, back from her face.

Esmon, however, scarcely gave his companions time to catch their breath. ‘Get this camp pitched. We won’t be lighting a fire tonight. We’ll manage all right with our night vision, but I want everything sorted out and under cover before nightfall. Beneath that big chestnut tree is best for the tents - that should hide them from the air - and keep those horses well out of sight, Iriana.’ Though she was tired, Iriana went to work with a will. The sooner they dealt with the camp and the animals, the sooner they could eat something and get to sleep.

As usual, they fell efficiently into their routine, and Iriana picketed their horses beneath a huge old hawthorn that stood near the bank of the stream where it flowed out of the pool. After their quarrel on the first night in the forest, Avithan had been careful to see to his own tasks and allow her to get on with hers, and the only time Iriana felt a twinge of regret about the new arrangements was when she had to remove the weighty, unwieldy saddles. Her own Dailika was easy enough to deal with, but Avithan and Esmon rode bigger horses. As Iriana reached up and pulled off Esmon’s saddle, the additional weight made her stagger slightly, and a loose stone turned and rolled under her foot. She stumbled two steps backward, teetered, toppled, and, with an enormous splash, fell flat on her backside in the stream, with the saddle resting on top of her. ‘Bugger! Shit, arse, pox, plague and sod it.’ All this time with Esmon had been improving the scope of Iriana’s vocabulary no end.

‘Are you all right?’ Esmon and Avithan came running up. Though their faces were a picture of concern, their eyes sparkled with mirth and their lips were twitching in a desperate attempt not to laugh.

Even though Iriana was using Seyka’s eyes, she still managed to turn a fulminating scowl in their direction. ‘What the bloody blazes are you clowns waiting for? Get this blasted thing off me.’

The two men made the mistake of catching each other’s eyes, gave up the unequal struggle and roared with laughter. Avithan, helpless, mopped at streaming eyes while Esmon simply sat down on the ground, clutching his ribs.

Iriana, her face hot with mortification, abandoned any hope of help from the pair of grinning morons and managed to roll out from beneath the saddle herself. As she climbed out of the water, she was suddenly filled with a wonderful warm glow of camaraderie and belonging. If this had happened when their journey started, the two men would have been falling over themselves to pick her up, dust her down, make sure that she hadn’t hurt herself. Now, at last, she had truly become one of them: a member of the team who could pull her own weight, take care of herself - and be laughed at. Dripping and delighted, Iriana joined in the mirth.

‘Time to wake up. It’s your turn to watch.’

‘What . . . ? Oh. All right, Avithan. Give me a minute, I’m coming.’ Iriana rolled over carefully in the cramped confines of her tent and wormed her way out of her blankets. She groped for her warm coat and shrugged into it, then found the edge of the doorway by touch and crawled out of the shelter, sending a mental call to Melik as she did so. Seeking the cat’s mind with her own, she found him nearby, and settled happily into their habitual bonding. As she looked out of his eyes, she saw the forest floor through the monochromatic light and dark of feline night vision. He was slinking through the bushes, heading towards the dim shapes of the tents that he could see between the leaves and branches.

Suddenly, Iriana saw herself and Avithan as Melik burst through the bushes into the clearing. ‘That’s better,’ she said with a smile for her fellow Wizard, knowing that he had been waiting, as was his tactful wont, until she could see him before starting a conversation.

‘Here.’ He held out a cup of water. ‘That should wake you up a bit. I wish it could have been a cup of hot taillin, but it was the best I could manage with no fire.’

‘Thanks - it’s just what I need.’ Iriana lied. She would have killed for taillin, but she took the cup and sipped.

‘Esmon picked his time to start doing without fires,’ Avithan said. ‘It’s getting colder the further north we go.’

‘And this is the coldest night so far.’ Putting her cup down, Iriana pulled her coat more closely around her. ‘Oh, drat. I left my gloves in the tent. Could you fish them out for me, please?’

The fact that she had asked him demonstrated the change in their relationship. Formerly, she would have been too determinedly independent to ask for help. Formerly, he would have been offering to get her the gloves before she’d even had time to think of it herself. Recently, however, she had been surprised and pleased to notice that Avithan was giving her more credit for being able to manage her share of all their little tasks of survival, and as a result, she’d begun to be a little more relaxed about letting him help her occasionally. Also, now that they had ceased their constant bickering, Iriana was beginning to find his company very congenial - though she was scarcely ready to admit it as yet, even to herself.

Now, it occurred to her how handsome Avithan looked in the firelight. While they were travelling, he had started to grow a beard, and it suited him. Why had she never really noticed him before? Because she’d been too busy fending him off, she realised; trying to guard her independence from his stifling attempts to take care of her. Well, maybe it was time to stop evading him. Maybe she should try taking care of him for a change, and see how he coped with that.

Right now, for instance, he looked tired out, and it was high time he left her and got some rest. ‘Go on, Avithan,’ she told him with a smile. ‘Get into your tent and go to sleep. It’s my turn to watch now.’

‘All right. Goodnight, Iriana. Have a peaceful watch.’ To her utter astonishment, he leant over and kissed her lightly on the lips - then disappeared swiftly into his tent before she could either reply or respond.

For a moment, the Wizard sat open-mouthed, staring at Avithan’s tent through Melik’s eyes. The thin moonmoth silk walls glowed faintly with magelight, and she could see his shadow moving about as he wriggled into his blankets. What in Perdition did he think he was playing at? she thought indignantly. Kissing her out of the blue like that, and then, just when she was starting to like it, vanishing off to bed without a word? For a moment she had an overwhelming urge to call him out again to demand an explanation and - she suddenly found herself grinning - maybe give him a taste of his own medicine by kissing him back.

Then the inward voice of her sensible self took control, reminding her that she was supposed to be on watch now, and was responsible for the safety of the camp. Besides, she ought to think about this interesting new development a little before taking any action. It might only be an affectionate little kiss after all, in which case it wouldn’t do to make a fool of herself by reading too much meaning into it. Nevertheless, the grin refused to leave Iriana’s face as she settled down to watch, and she felt a pleasant warmth inside that more than compensated for the lack of a campfire.

Dhagon, hidden above Avithan and Iriana in the broad limbs of the chestnut tree, watched this tender little scene with contempt. These two pathetic idiots deserved to die. And they were still letting the blind girl take watches! It was utter lunacy on Esmon’s part. He looked down at the creature with distaste. Imagine the Archwizard having the nerve to send such a flawed freak of nature as his representative to the Phaerie Court. Had she been one of our race, he thought, she would have been strangled as soon as the deformity had been discovered.

As the one called Iriana settled down to guard the camp, Dhagon wondered if he should begin with her. She would be easy prey. No trouble at all. But there was always the chance that she, or one of those filthy creatures that she used as eyes, might let out a sound and awaken the Warrior Esmon - who would immediately call Avithan, and then Dhagon would have two men to fight. No, that wasn’t the way. Even though the danger was small to a trained killer like Dhagon, the best option was always to take no risk at all. He would wait until Esmon came on watch and kill him first. With the only Warrior among them dead, the other two would be easy pickings.

The assassin licked his lips, his body tingling with anticipation. For days now he had shadowed these fools, using the Phaerie spells of glamourie to hide himself from the Wizards and from the girl’s accursed animals - he’d learned from his mistake the first night when that foul cat had almost seen through his spell. Every night since, he had spied upon their camp, listening to them talk, tucking away all sorts of information about the Wizards of Tyrineld and their defences and, thanks to Cyran’s peaceful policies, their paucity of trained Warriors.

Tiolani was going to be very interested in that.

Dhagon hoped he’d not left it too late and let his quarry get too close to the border. It was important that they should be killed while they were still within the realm of the Wizards - he planned to make it look as though they had been attacked by an animal, by dragging the corpses to the vicinity of a bear den and letting nature take its course.

Time went by while he hid in his tree with the deadly patience of a spider, making his plans and waiting for the right moment to put them into action. He could have killed them with magic, of course, but Cyran and his Wizards would be able to detect the traces of the spells, and know that Phaerie had been involved. Besides, he preferred his butchery to be more intimate: the deadly glitter of cold steel, and the gush of warm blood across his hands. And apart from the sweet joy of killing, there was also the girl. Dhagon began to entertain himself with ideas of taking her. Without her sight, she would be utterly helpless and in his power - exactly the way he liked his women. The killer ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation. They were best when they were afraid; resisting. Their terror and struggles gave a delicious edge to his pleasure. And when you added pain: that was the best of all. Once he had killed the two men, he would have all the time in the world to torture her, and take every pleasure he wished. He knew the tricks of keeping his victims alive while he toyed with them.

Finally Iriana roused Esmon, and Dhagon’s killer instincts snapped alert. Irritably he waited, wishing that the blind girl would make haste and go to bed. Then he tensed as he heard what she was saying. The wretched creature was still blathering to Esmon about feeling uneasy, as though she were being watched. The Warrior replied patiently, but sounded a little weary of the whole business. Dhagon observed and listened, his lip curled with scorn. That impaired slip of a girl has better instincts than you, he thought. Soon you’ll be sorry you ignored her - and so will she.

Once the girl had gone into her tent, the assassin bided his time for a good while longer, to make sure she was well and truly settled and asleep. Then, soundlessly, he slid down from his perch and crept up behind his victim. At the last instant, Esmon seemed to realise that something was wrong. But before he could raise the alarm or reach for his weapon, Dhagon’s knife sliced across his throat, then plunged into his heart.