Heritage Of The Xandim

36

ON A KNIFE EDGE

From the air, in the strong noon sunlight, the graceful, soaring towers of Eliorand glittered like a cresting wave that poured down the face of the steep hillside. Notwithstanding the beauty, Aelwen viewed the sight with mixed feelings. Three nights before, when she and Kelon had made their desperate bid to escape, she had never expected to see the city again. On the one hand, it lifted her heart to return to her birthplace, her home and her beloved horses. On the other, she was sick with trepidation. Having finally made the difficult decision to leave, it felt like a mistake to be returning. Everything was different now. Her entire life had been a lie.

She had lain sleepless at Taine’s side throughout the previous night. It saddened her that Kelon, who had been her friend for so many years, had parted from her on such bad terms, but that choice had been his to make. Worse was the sick feeling inside her, because now that she knew the Xandim were not mere beasts after all, it cast her own life in a very different light. All the while she had been thinking of herself as their caretaker and nurturer, she had been nothing but a gaoler.

It shook her life right down to the foundations.

The shining city below concealed so many shadows: rivalry, envy, lust and betrayal. Murder. Aelwen had sense enough to know that not all the evil would have vanished with Ferimon’s death. How many of his supporters remained down there? How would they react to the news that he was dead? And the Forest Lord still had his realm’s loyalty. Now that she herself was returning in a traitor’s role, the Horsemistress knew that she would have enemies on every side. Many years ago, Hellorin had put a price on Taine’s head, and there were plenty of folk in the city with long memories. Would Tiolani be able to protect him, and was she strong enough to return and take back her rule? More to the point, could she be trusted?

Well, Aelwen thought, as they began their descent into the palace, we’re about to find out.

Their approach had clearly been spotted. In the absence of Tiolani, the Phaerie were without flying magic, so no one came to meet them, but the wide plaza was thronged with members of the court, and many were still swarming like brightly coloured ants out of the great carved doors. Even at this distance, Aelwen could hear their cries of relief and puzzlement. Among the gay rainbow hues, however, she also saw the shimmer of silver mail, and the bright flashes of sunlight on keen-edged swords, and her stomach clenched in trepidation. As they landed, the Phaerie scattered to give the horses room, and into the resulting gap stepped Cordain, with a troop of soldiers at his back. You could take them for an honour guard, Aelwen thought. If you were that stupid.

Beside her, she felt Taine stiffen, and from the corner of her eye she registered his hand inching towards his weapon. But her attention was fixed on Cordain’s face. Dismay and annoyance, she saw there - and, more significantly, guilt. He’d believed Tiolani to be dead. He had been counting on it. When she first came to power, she had removed him from his exalted position of Chief Counsellor and put Ferimon in his place, so he held a grudge, but it was more than that. The girl had turned out to be an unstable, unpredictable killer. Aelwen understood completely why, as the Forest Lord’s oldest friend and most loyal vassal, Cordain had decided that the Phaerie would be better off without her.

Cordain stepped forward, his smile as false as the grinning of a skull. ‘My dearest Lady, we had despaired of your life. We are all delighted to welcome you back. You must be exhausted after your terrible ordeal.’ He took her arm, to outward appearances all solicitude and courtesy. In reality, his fingers were like bands of steel, grinding flesh into bone. Tiolani, instinctively about to strike back, suddenly found herself surrounded by the putative honour guard. When she saw the drawn weapons and the clear, merciless intent in their eyes, she turned pale, and went very still. Aelwen and Taine found themselves similarly surrounded.

‘Come, Lady,’ Cordain said again. ‘You will want the comfort of your quarters. And I am sure we can also find some comfortable accommodation for your companions.’

Aelwen cursed herself for not having anticipated this. Though she had thought that Hellorin’s daughter might experience some resistance to her rule, she had not expected such cold-blooded treachery from Cordain, of all people. But with Ferimon dead, Tiolani was suddenly vulnerable, and the wolves were closing in.

We’ve failed, she thought. Even before we’ve started, we’ve failed. Even if, by some miracle, they could turn this disaster around and return Tiolani to power, they would still lose valuable time - maybe even long enough for Hellorin’s healers to bring him back from the brink and undo the time spells. Even if Corisand and Iriana succeeded in taking the Fialan, he could follow them back to the mundane world.

The consequences were unthinkable.

Then Cordain noticed Taine, and Aelwen saw cold recognition flash across his face. Her heart began to race with fear.

He was Hellorin’s loyal supporter. He would obey the Forest Lord’s orders, no matter how many years ago they had been given.

Unless she could think of something fast to get them out of this, Taine was as good as dead already.

When Corisand and Iriana shimmered out of sight, Dael found himself alone with Athina once more. For a precious instant, everything seemed back as it should be - then the Cailleach gave a little gasp and crumpled, grey-faced, to the ground.

‘Athina!’ Sick with fear, Dael knelt beside her.

‘Help me.’ Her voice was a thready whisper. ‘Get me back to your chamber, Dael. My power is fading fast. I must leave now.’

Though in his head he had known and accepted that this moment must come, his heart felt as if it were being ripped out of his chest.

‘Now, Dael. Hurry.’ He heard the desperation in her voice, saw the shadow of fear in her eyes - and put his own fear and grief aside.

For her.

She weighed next to nothing as he scooped her up into his arms and ran back to the tower, scrambling and stumbling as fast as he could up the airy spiral of the metal stairs. Shouldering open the door of his chamber, he carried Athina to the bed where Avithan lay and sat her on the edge, with an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

She held on to him, dropping her head to his shoulder. ‘You’ve been a son to me.’ Her voice was fading now. ‘Before you, the only joy I knew was that of creation; the only sorrow that of setting my creations free when I was done. You taught me how to feel. How to love. I love you, my Dael. Down all the endless stretches of eternity, I will always love you.’

Even as his eyes blurred with tears, Athina was gone.

Where she and Avithan had been was just an empty bed in an empty room, in an empty world. Deal buried his face in the coverlet, and wept.

Athina found herself lying on the floor because she was too weak to stand, and blinded by her tears. She needed no vision to tell her that she was back home, in her Tree in the Heart of the Wood. She could feel its life and power pulsating through her in the same way as it pumped in shining streams through the walls of the massive hollow trunk.

Suddenly there was no more urgency. Here beneath the Timeless Lake, she had all the time in the world. Athina simply lay there, letting home restore the power and the energies she had lost, and wept for Dael, the child of her heart that she would see no more.

‘Your folly astounds me.’ The harsh voice that broke through her weariness and grief belonged to Uriel. Once more he had taken his favourite form, a column of scintillating, multicoloured energy - a beautiful sight, but one that could not have been less welcome to Athina, in that moment. She scrambled to her feet, thankful that she was beginning to regain her strength. She had not yet recovered enough power to withstand Uriel - but did he know that? She took her natural form once more, her face growing leaner and more raptor-like, her eyes taking on the fierce, wild, golden glare of the eagle. ‘What do you want now?’ she snarled. ‘I did as you asked, Uriel. I have returned - and your involvement ends here. Get out of my home.’

The soft hum of Uriel’s energy rose to a threatening buzz. ‘Oh, you did as I asked, my sister - after you had done as you wished, and only when you finally had no choice. And even now, you persist in this insane involvement with your primitive creation.’ He drifted across to the still form of Avithan, who had lain, until this moment, unregarded on the floor. ‘What is this?’

The Cailleach stepped between her angry sibling and the Wizard’s helpless form. ‘What I do in my own place is my own affair. I owe you no explanations. As you demanded, I have left the mundane world and my involvement there has ceased. You have triumphed.’ She could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. ‘Now be content and go.’

‘Athina, I am not your enemy.’ His voice was edged with frustration, and a rumble of thunder sounded overhead as his temper frayed. With an effort he brought himself back under control. ‘My dearest sister, I am simply trying to warn you, and to help you. You, of all our brethren, were always the most prone to being ruled by your emotions. Now they have led you to a forbidden place, and as a result, your perceptions have become skewed. Do you truly not see the danger here? That in acting to prevent your premonitions from coming true, you might have been instrumental in bringing about the dreadful future you foresaw?’

‘No! That cannot be. I went to stop it. The Phaerie are the chief danger, but if the Xandim are freed, their power will be cut off at the knees. I needed to warn and help the three who will be pivotal to the fate of the world.’

‘And in helping the Wizard and the Windeye, you have risked them bringing an artefact of unspeakable power out of the Elsewhere, where it belonged, and into the mundane world.’

‘They will use it to avert the disaster, not to bring it about. With the Fialan gone from the Elsewhere, Hellorin will be imprisoned there for good, and one of the greatest dangers to the world will have been removed.’

‘But in bringing the Stone back they will leave a trail of energy, of power, of the Old Magic. If the Forest Lord were to find and follow that trail, it would be possible for him to create a portal. Athina, you know this to be true.’

Despite the strength of her own convictions, a chill of trepidation slithered through her. ‘Not alone, he could not,’ she argued. ‘Only half the power of the Fialan was his to command.’

‘And if he allies, once again, with Ghabal?’

‘No - that’s impossible! After Hellorin betrayed him when the Stone was made, Ghabal would never trust him again. He may be mad, but he is not stupid.’

‘Even if it meant that he also could return to the mundane world? Could make an attempt, once there, to regain the Stone? Under those circumstances, I would certainly set my enmity aside and form a temporary truce. Imagine both of them, Athina, let loose on your precious, unsuspecting world. Would that not bring about the very catastrophe you were trying to forestall?’

The Cailleach felt the blood drain from her face. ‘By the Light,’ she whispered. ‘What have I done?’ Only too well now did she realise her terrible mistake. The mundane world had indeed clouded her perceptions, preventing her from seeing all aspects of the situation.

She felt the clutch of panic around her heart. ‘I have to tell them. Uriel, this is my doing. They must be warned.’

‘No.’ His voice was gentle but implacable. ‘No, Athina, you will not be permitted to meddle this time. What’s done is done, and the mundane world must live with the consequences. Our siblings have acted in concert to contain you here. I deeply regret this, but it is necessary. There will be no discussion, no debate and no reprieve. You will not be permitted to leave again.’

‘No!’ Rage and fear blazed up in the Cailleach’s heart. ‘You cannot. You dare not.’ But she was speaking to empty air. Uriel had gone, leaving her a prisoner in her little world below the Timeless Lake.

Athina sank to the floor and hid her face in her hands. Her thoughts were clouded by a turmoil of emotions: fury and bitterness at her confinement; horror, remorse and fear for the world of her creation, and for the individuals she had so lately come to know and love. Worst of all was the sickening sense of helplessness. Her own blindness, her misguided attempts to help, had brought them to a perilous pass. How could Uriel and the others be so callous? Surely it could do no harm to warn Corisand and Iriana of the dangers? But imprisoned here as she was, there could be no chance of her doing that.

Or could there?

She looked at Avithan, who lay so pale and still. In this timeless place, the shimmer of the tangled time spells had faded, just as she’d hoped. It should be possible to free him from his bonds and heal the hurts that he had suffered. But why hurry? While his body was out of time, Hellorin’s mind and spirit had been able to journey to the Elsewhere. Could she do the same for Avithan? Send him to Iriana with a warning?

As Dael would have said, it was worth a try.

Cyran lay awake all night, worrying about his son and Iriana. Unknown to the two younger Wizards, Esmon had been secretly sending back a report, via scrying-crystal, every night when the others were on watch or asleep. Not many Wizards had this ability, but it was very useful, and one of the many reasons Esmon had been selected as an emissary to the Phaerie realm. To spare the pride of Avithan and Iriana, they had not been told that the Archwizard was keeping such a close eye on them. Cyran had wanted his son to handle the mission on his own, in the hope that a success might go some way towards persuading him that he wanted to be Archwizard, and follow in his father’s footsteps after all.

Two nights previously, Esmon had reported in as usual from the forest, while Avithan was sleeping and Iriana was on watch. Two hours later the Warrior was dead: though faint and muted by distance, Cyran had felt the wrenching pang of a Wizard’s passing, and known that Esmon breathed no more.

What had happened to him? And what had become of Avithan and Iriana, an inexperienced city-dweller and a blind girl cast adrift in the wilderness? In flat-out panic, Cyran had assembled a troop of veteran Wizards from the Luen of Warriors and had ridden out with them himself: partly because he could not bear to stay at home while his son was in danger, and partly to escape the bitter recriminations of his soulmate Sharalind.

It had been a mistake to come, however. Cyran was city-soft and it had been far too long since he had ridden a horse. Before the end of the first day it had been obvious that he was slowing the Warriors down - much to their ill-concealed annoyance, for they wanted above all things to avenge their leader - and so he had let them go on ahead, taking a short cut that angled across county and reached the forest by a straighter route, keeping only two of them to accompany him. Now he was far behind the main body, and he had stopped for the night with his companions so that he could rest his aching muscles and use a simple healing spell on the bruises that covered his calves and inner thighs.

There was no wood on the moors to keep a campfire burning overnight. The Archwizard’s thoughts were as dark as his surroundings; filled with anxiety and self-recrimination. If only I had sent someone else. Someone more experienced. Someone I loved less. Taine was right, when he thought that the whole idea was insane - but so tactfully didn’t say so. I was too worried, too shaken by those accursed visions to be thinking clearly, and now . . .began to

After what felt like an endless night, eventually the darkness began to lift and an eerie half-light took its place. The two Warriors, Nara and Baxian, were already up, feeding their mounts and rummaging in the saddlebags for their own cold and cheerless breakfast. Cyran was just scrambling out of his blankets when suddenly the horses lifted their heads and whinnied. A moment later, he heard the sound of uneven, stumbling hoofbeats on the road, and a bony old horse stumbled into view over the brow of the hill. When the rider caught sight of the Archwizard, he started waving and shouting, and as he drew closer, his words became clear. ‘Cyran? Is that Archwizard Cyran? Thank Providence I’ve found you.’

He looked so familiar - then, with a start, Cyran remembered. Challan. Zybina’s former soulmate and Iriana’s foster-father, who had abandoned his family for a human woman and run off to Nexis to hide his shame. Now his eyes were dark voids of exhaustion in a haggard face, and as he dismounted he was shaking with exhaustion. Trepidation curled in Cyran’s stomach. This did not bode well.

‘Come, sit,’ he said, handing the Wizard a leather water-bag and squatting down beside him. ‘What has happened? Tell me your tidings.’

Challan rubbed his hands over his weary face. ‘Two nights ago - well, three nights now . . .’ He looked to where the sun was just clearing the horizon in a hectic blaze of gold. ‘I was not asleep. We were searching—’ He broke off, his eyes narrowing in anxiety and pain, then took a deep breath and started again. ‘It could not have been a dream.’ He clutched at the Archwizard’s arm. ‘I felt Esmon’s passing, then shortly afterwards I received a message in mindspeech from Iriana. It was very faint and far away, but it was a cry for help. They had been attacked by Phaerie in the forest. She wanted me to warn you . . .’

He shook his head. ‘I got the impression that she was fleeing for her life. Avithan had been hurt or captured, I think, because she was alone, blind, without even her animals to help her.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘My poor Iriana. The last words we exchanged in Nexis were filled with rancour and bitterness, and then for this to happen on top of...’

‘On top of what?’ Cyran asked sharply.

Challan took a deep breath, and with a visible effort brought himself back under control. ‘Cyran, I know this is not the time to ask, but have you seen my daughter Chiannala? We had a terrible quarrel the night Iriana came, and she ran away. She stole our horse and I think she might have tried to head for Tyrineld - she seems to have inherited my powers in full, and is desperate to train at the Academy and become a fully fledged Wizard. I told her it was impossible, and that was when she—’

‘Your daughter?’ Cyran turned shocked eyes in his direction. ‘You had a daughter with that human—’ He broke off in disgust. Yet that look of distress, of misery, of desperation on Challan’s face so exactly matched his own state of mind that he could not fail to understand. No matter what her breeding had been, the Wizard had lost a child, too.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘My sorrow, Challan, but she never came to the Academy. Our recent intake was small. Only one came from outside Tyrineld - a girl called Brynne whose family have a farm out Dunmore way. But she and her father spoke of finding a strange, lone girl on the road who claimed to be an orphan heading for Tyrineld in hope of attending the Academy. Being decent folk, they took her with them, but I’m afraid there was a terrible accident on the way, and the girl slipped and fell over the cliffs. The fisherfolk began a search of the area at once, but she was never found.’

Challan groaned, and put his head in his hands.

“But wait.’ Cyran put a hand on his arm. ‘It may be too soon to despair. The image of your daughter I see in your mind does not match the one that Brynne and her father gave me. It’s not even close. Also, you said that your daughter had strong Wizardly powers, yet we have felt neither her death nor that of another girl. We still have a mystery on our hands, but it is not yet time to mourn, for either of us. We know that our children are still alive, for we have not felt them passing. At least we have that. But whatever has befallen them, it cannot be good.’

He leapt to his feet, trembling with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides as he stared helplessly towards the north. ‘The Phaerie,’ he growled. ‘Those treacherous monsters. How dare they? They will rue the day they attacked my son.’

Challan also got up, and stood beside him. ‘I am sorry I could not reach you sooner. Horses are hoarded like diamonds in Nexis, and this poor lame, broken-winded old creature was all that I could find after Chiannala stole mine.’

The sun had risen fully now, and had vanished just as quickly into a long bank of cloud that lay above the horizon. A cold wind snaked and sneered across the exposed flanks of the moors. The two Wizards and the Warrior escort stood in silence, united by anxiety and sorrow.

Then it happened. They were struck by the wrenching pain, the unnerving sense of void and absence that marked the passing of a Wizard from the world. ‘Iriana,’ Challan wailed. ‘My little Iriana. No, it cannot be true. She can’t have gone.’

Cyran staggered as though he himself had received a mortal wound. ‘I sent her,’ he whispered. ‘Her death is on my hands.’

In the next instant he crumpled to the ground with an anguished wail as the dreadful pang came again. ‘Avithan,’ he cried. ‘No, please - not my son!’ For a long moment the Wizards were transfixed in horror, then Challan began to weep. Cyran got to his feet, his face bone-white, his eyes burning with a cold, fell light as he stared into the north. ‘All my life I have striven for peace and conciliation with the Phaerie,’ he snarled, ‘but here it ends. Now I will unleash red war upon them. I will not rest until the last of their infection has been wiped from the face of this world.’