Sword of Flames

23 Storm Front

The elements were in turmoil. The slick black rocks of the Xandim coastline were lost between the grinding white fangs of the breakers. Swelling, steel-gray waves hurled themselves against the obdurate stones of the shore. The gale whined in shrill counterpoint to the surfs thundering boom and the roar and hiss of the vanquished waves. Salt mist from the wind-whipped spume laid a sheen of moisture on Aurian’s skin and stung Anvar’s icy face as he squinted into the gloom. The Mage licked the taste of the sea from his lips and pulled the hood of his cloak more closely around his face. “I suppose it had to happen sooner or later,” Aurian shouted, augmenting her words with mental speech so that Anvar could hear her above the howl of the tempest. The two Mages had walked apart from Chiamh and the great cats to discuss this new problem that faced them. “It was only to be expected after Eliseth forced her winter on the world for so long, and then we created an unseasonal spring. I suppose it’ll take some time for the elements to settle down.”

“I only hope we haven’t done too much damage—this is quite a storm. It’s already been blowing for two days and nights…” Anvar bit his lip, frowning out across the heaving ocean. He wondered how his soulmate could sound so calm.

Aurian shrugged. “Eliseth started this. In trying to correct what she had done, I doubt we could do much more harm. In the end, the world is far greater than we can encompass, even with our magic. The weather is simply settling back to its proper pattern. Only… I wish it hadn’t decided to do it now. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time for us.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the expectant crowd of wet, chilled, and bedraggled Xandim who had been unable to pitch their tents in the gale, and now thronged the headland behind the Mages. Anvar understood her concern. The last days had not been easy for any of the companions. As Herdlord, Schiannath had persuaded a good number of the Horse-folk to accompany himself and Chiamh north, to help Aurian in her quest, but there had been many other dissenting voices. If the Mages delayed too long in finding transportation across the sea, even the volunteers might easily have second thoughts.

“Want me to get rid of it?” Anvar’s hand crept inside his cloak to touch the Harp of Winds, slung across his back on cunning straps wrought by the skilled Xandim leatherworkers. A thrill of starsong in the back of his mind sent pleasurable shivers through his body as he touched the crystalline frame, and he gritted his teeth to resist its allure. Because he had not, as yet, completely tamed the power of the Artifact, the Harp was always trying to tempt him with its siren music into unleashing its magic upon the world.

“Anvar—wait!” Aurian captured his hand in her own. Anvar had lately discovered that she was aware, from her own early experiences with the Staff of Earth, of his difficulties in controlling the Harp, and she had helped him tremendously in recent days. He sighed, and she squeezed his hand sympathetically. “Don’t worry—you’ll get your chance shortly,” she told him. “But since this blasted storm has been blowing two solid days already, who knows how much longer it may last? If we can get Parric’s Nightrunner friends to send their ships for us, we may need you to calm the ocean so that they can get across. Too much tampering at this stage might bring us worse problems later.”

“Then how will you reach the Leviathan?” Anvar protested. He had a feeling that he didn’t want to know the answer. He was right.

“I’m going to go find him now.” Aurian’s mental tones brooked no argument. Already she was reaching up to unfasten her cloak. “I’m damned if I’m going to wait around any longer.”

“Aurian, don’t be stupid!” Anvar snatched at her hands. “You’ll kill yourself!” His old terror of deep water rushed back to overwhelm him.

“I won’t.” Gently, Aurian pushed his hands away. “If I really thought so, I wouldn’t even consider this, believe me—not now that I have you and Wolf.” Her mental tones were softened with a smile for him. “It’s impossible to drown a Mage, remember? Besides, the storm was worse than this on the night of the shipwreck, and we both survived that with the help of the Leviathan. All I have to do is avoid getting dashed to pieces, and if you look down there on the eastern side of the headland, you’ll see a kind of inlet where the water swirls round. If I enter the water in the right place, the current should be pulling me away from the rocks.”

“What?” Anvar demanded. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No—just my patience,” Aurian retorted, scraping her wet, windblown hair out of her eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “Judging from the last time I met the Leviathan, it may take them a while to make up their minds to help us. If I can make contact now and state our case, we can all go back to that fishing settlement we passed to wait in comfort; and all being well, the messengers can be on their way just as soon as the storm blows out.”

Anvar sighed. He recognized that obdurate glint in his soulmate’s eye and knew that no matter how long he attempted to dissuade her, the result would be the same in the end. It would save a lot of time if he simply bowed to the inevitable, trusted her judgment, and let her get it over with. “Go on, then—but for the sake of all the gods, be careful.”

Aurian kissed him. “For the sake of you and Wolf, I will.” Then she was gone, running along the headland down the narrow track worn by the Xandim fisherfolk. By the time he caught up with her, delayed by the puzzled queries of Chiamh and Shia, she was already on the rocky shore of the inlet, shedding her clothing. “Ugh!” she muttered through chattering teeth. “Me and my bright ideas.”

“Serves you right,” said Anvar callously, taking her cloak and the linen shirt and leather tunic and breeches—Xandim garments all—before they could blow away. He weighted them down with her sword and boots, but thrust the Staff of Earth, which she gave carefully into his hands, into his own belt, where its proximity to the Harp made both Artifacts combine their energies in a blaze of joyful radiance, setting the very air thrumming and sparkling with their conjoined and augmented power.

“Stop that!” Anvar muttered irritably, wanting to keep all his concentration for Aurian. As he extended his will to damp the surge of power, the incandescent green-white blaze died away, leaving only a soft, defiant humming. When he looked up, Aurian was already a pale and distant figure, picking her cautious, barefoot way along the jutting reef of rocks that protruded into the little bay.

“You might have waited.” Anvar sent his mental message in injured tones.

“Why? To freeze to death?” came the abstracted reply. “I can talk to you just as well from—ouch! These blasted rocks are sharp!”

The next minute she was gone, diving out over the end of the rocks into the churning waves. Anvar sighed and, clutching her bundled clothing to his chest, sat down on a nearby boulder to await her return. She was right, he thought, shifting uncomfortably. The blasted rocks were very sharp. After a time Shia and Chiamh joined him, having sent the others back toward the settlement. As the shrouded sky darkened toward night, they waited together on the storm-swept beach.

As Aurian had struggled, shivering, along the wicked knife-edged rocks, she had wondered how she was going to find the courage to take that first, agonizing lungful of water that would adapt her breathing to survive beneath the sea. As it turned out, she need not have worried. When she entered the water, the sea was so cold that she gasped involuntarily, and after a moment’s frantic thrashing in pain and panic, she found herself breathing quite naturally beneath the ocean.

It was as well that the struggle had been brief. Already, the current was changing, trying to pull her back to be battered against the cruel rocks of the reef. Staying underwater, out of reach of the crashing waves above, Aurian began to swim outward, fighting the current with all her strength. Because she didn’t have to surface into the teeth of the storm, the going was easier than she had expected, and soon she began to settle into a rhythm. Had it not been for the thick murkiness of the water, cloudy with sand churned up from the bottom by the waves above, and the unrelenting coldness of the northern ocean, she would have quite enjoyed the swim.

When the Mage had traveled farther out from the shore, she found that the deeper water was much clearer, and the conflicting currents no longer tugged her this way and that. She could dive down deeper now, to calmer water where the fury of the storm above was little more than a distant memory. At last she decided she had gone far enough, and settled in the water to call the Leviathan.

Reaching out with both her voice and her mind, Aurian began to sing the poignant, plangent, swirling song that would travel for leagues through the storm-tossed waters, summoning the Whalefolk from their far wanderings. Especially, she called to Ithalasa, the old friend who had rescued her from the shipwreck and had given her sage counsel and a great deal of additional help besides.

For a long time she sang, and then she listened, praying that she would hear a distant reply. But so far, there was nothing. Aurian suppressed a stab of impatience, remembering that the fierce emotions of the land-dwellers were anathema to the Leviathan race. But it was so hard to have to wait! While she knew that part of her water-breathing adaptation would let her survive in the freezing sea far longer than she would otherwise have done, there was still a limit to the time she could spend submerged before the deadly cold took its toll—and her life. And as well as needing Ithalasa’s assistance once more, she was simply looking forward to seeing him again. She had much to tell him, concerning the finding of the Staff and the Harp, and her search for the Sword of Flame.

Aurian rested a little, for the singing of the high, plaintive whalesong had drained her both physically and emotionally. Then she began again, starting all over at the beginning of the lengthy cycle of song—and this time, about halfway through the pattern, she received an answer.

The distant call was so faint that as yet she could hear it only with her mind, and not her ears. Aurian waited for the singer to come nearer, changing her own song now to one of welcome. Soon, the dimly heard voice became more distinct:

“Mage? O Mage?” It was Ithalasa.

“Ithalasa! Oh, how glad I am to hear you again!” Aurian cried joyfully. “How incredibly fortunate that it should be you.”

“Not fortunate, Mage—but it explains our long delay in answering you,” the Leviathan replied. “A pod of my sisters heard your song far out in the ocean and decided that, once again, I should be the one to represent our kind, for I had talked with you before. They called me—and I came.”

Within minutes he was with her, surfacing briefly to blow and then take another mighty breath before diving back down to her. His massive, streamlined body hung motionless in the current save for the sweeping motion of his curving flukes. His vast bulk dwarfed the Mage as she swam, holding herself in position as he did, beneath the gaze of a deep, wise, twinkling eye.

“Now,” said Ithalasa, with great good humor, “what is your need this time, Little One? I see no shipwreck here.”

“You wouldn’t—I swam out from the Xandim coast to find you,” Aurian explained.

“Did you so? And in this storm!” The Leviathan’s tones were tinged with surprise—and not a little respect. “Then your need must be pressing indeed.”

“It certainly is—but more immediately pressing is my need to get out of the water before I perish with cold,” Aurian told him. She could only see him now through her Mage’s vision, for already the waters had darkened with the onset of night. Her extremities were numb and white, and she could feel her thought processes growing gradually more sluggish. “I don’t think I can stay here much longer, Ithalasa. Would you mind taking me back to the shore, so I can talk to you from there?”

“It will be my pleasure. It will be good to swim with you again, Little One.” Helpfully, the Leviathan extended a great, curved fluke. “Can you climb up on my back, as you used to do?”

Numb and weakened by the cold as she was, Aurian would have found it a struggle to do what once she had accomplished so easily, had it not been for the buoyancy of the water. Pushing herself off from the extended fluke, she swam upward until she saw his broad, gray back beneath her. The Leviathan swam slowly toward the surface, pushing her up with him, making a slow ascent so that her body could become accustomed to the change in pressure. At last he broke through into the open air, and the Mage found herself lying limply on his back, choking, retching, and coughing out water as her lungs made the change back to breathing air.

Now I know what a drowned rat must feel like, Aurian thought. She lay there limply, lacking the energy to move, gasping and shivering; for in the cold wind she felt no warmer than she had in the sea. Waves broke over her as Ithalasa forged his powerful way back to land through the heaving waters, and time and again she almost found herself washed back into the ocean, for on his expanse of mottled, barnacle-covered back there was little to hold on to save for the slight ridge of his dorsal fin, which was so pronounced in other clans of the Leviathan race.

Out of consideration for her wretched state, Ithalasa refrained from asking the Mage any questions as he took her to shore, though she could feel the undercurrents of avid curiosity bubbling beneath the calmness of his surface thoughts. Soon—though she could have wished it had been sooner—a vivid sheet of lightning lit up the sea for miles around, and Aurian could make out the dark smudge of the Xandim coastline in stark relief on the horizon. When the next flash came, the land had grown very much closer.

The water was deep enough to allow Ithalasa to come partway into the inlet, and Aurian had only a few yards to swim to reach the outthrust reef from which she had started. She was glad it was no farther. Anvar, waiting at the end of the rocks, reached down a strong hand to grasp her arm and pull her out of the water. She was glad of that, for without his help she never would have managed. Dimly, she heard his voice in her mind as he greeted the Leviathan—then she became aware of a blissful warmth as he wrapped her cloak around her. He picked her up and carried her safely across the slippery, sharp-edged rocks, back to the safety of the beach, where she saw Shia, Chiamh—and, to her great delight, a massive driftwood bonfire that blazed bravely in the teeth of the storm, kept alight through Anvar’s magic.

Anvar put her down beside the fire and began to towel her roughly with the cloak, restoring circulation to her bloodless limbs before wrapping his own, dryer cloak around her. Aurian’s joy became complete when the Windeye handed her a mug of his steaming herb tea, lavishly laced with honey and strong, rough Xandim spirits. Anvar steadied it in her shaking hands while she forced the mug between her chattering teeth and took a swallow, feeling the warmth spreading all the way down through her chilled body. Within a few minutes she was feeling very much better, although she felt very drowsy, and she wondered if she would ever truly be warm again.

Sleep, however, would have to wait, for the patient Leviathan had been neglected long enough. With Anvar’s help she struggled back into her clothes, not resisting when his assistance turned into a quick embrace. “I’m so glad to see you again,” she murmured—“and I’m glad you resisted telling me you’d warned me this would happen.”

“Well, I did—but at least you succeeded, so I’ll let you off this time.” He grinned at her. “Feeling better now?”

Aurian nodded. “It’s time we went to talk to Ithalasa.”

“ I am glad to see that you found your mate again, after all your quarrels and mishaps in the south,” was the Leviathan’s opening comment to Aurian. He listened to their tale of how they had found each other, and showed no surprise whatsoever to learn that Anvar was also a Mage. Ithalasa rejoiced to hear of the safe delivery of the Mage’s child, who was currently back in the fishing settlement with his lupine guardians. (Sangra had been left to keep an eye on them, muttering darkly all the while that she was a warrior, not a bloody nursemaid.)

Since both Shia and Chiamh were adept at mental talk, the Mages were able to introduce their companions to the Leviathan, and he greeted them graciously, and with a great deal of curiosity—especially as to the unusual nature of the Windeye’s powers. But when Aurian and Anvar, standing together out on the storm-lashed rocks, told him how they had won the Staff of Earth and Harp of Winds, all other concerns were forgotten. They could feel Ithalasa’s growing excitement, tinged nonetheless with an undercurrent of concern, beating strongly in their minds.

“ I thought I could feel the power of High Magic!” he exclaimed. “And what of the Sword of Flame?”

“That’s why we need your help.” Quickly, Aurian explained their predicament.

“I see,” Ithalasa mused. “So you must get a message to your friends across the northern ocean, and then they can send ships to fetch you?”

“That’s right,” Anvar said. “You couldn’t take all of us—not the cats and the Xandim, too. And Wolf is far too small to attempt such a journey.”

“But how can I convey a message? I can only communicate with you Magefolk.”

“Well,” said Aurian, “we hoped that you might take one or two of us to Wyvernesse so they could tell the Nightrunners.” Immediately she felt the Leviathan’s hesitation, and her heart sank, although she’d been expecting something of the kind.

“Yes, Little One,” the great voice echoed in her mind. “As you have guessed, such an act on my part will constitute another interference by the Leviathan in Wars of Power. After the Cataclysm, we vowed never again to become involved in the affairs of the Magefolk—and already we have done so, for without our help you would never have gained the first two Artifacts. Before I can take you to find the sword, I must consult again with my people.”

“I thought so,” Aurian sighed. “But Ithalasa—are you sure that you want to become involved again?”

“Little One, I am sure. For my part, I trust you to use the Weapons wisely. Whether my brethren will do so remains to be seen….” He hesitated—but when he spoke again, his voice was decisive. ” No—already I know what their answer will be. Last time they permitted me to help you, because they did not believe that you truly could find the lost Artifacts. This time it will be different, for already you have the Harp and the Staff—and the dangers of another Cataclysm have become very real. They will not let me intervene again—and so they must not know. Return to this place as soon as the storm blows out, and I will convey your messenger.”

“But wait,” Aurian objected. “If they find out what you’ve done, will they not punish you? Ithalasa, I can’t let you take that kind of risk for us!”

“You are right,” said Ithalasa. “If they find out, I must certainly pay the penalty—-but the risk is mine to take. Come, Little One—what choice have you, other than to accept? How else will you get back across the ocean?”

Aurian knew he was right—there was no choice—but that didn’t make her feel any better about the business. Nonetheless, she accepted his brave offer with all the gratitude that he deserved, before the Magefolk made their farewells. Through the blowing curtains of rain, they saw the mighty Leviathan erupt gracefully from the water as he leapt high in answer. Falling back into the waves with a splash of fountaining foam that was loud enough to be heard above the keening of the storm, Ithalasa was gone, racing swiftly for the open seas.

Both Mages were soaked and shivering by this time, and Aurian was glad of Chiamh’s offer of a ride back to the home of the fisherfolk, who welcomed the companions of their Herdlord lavishly with hot food and blazing fires. The largest house was given entirely over to their use, for Schiannath’s father had been born of this coastal clan, and they had taken his victory in the Challenge as their own. When they finally managed to escape the effusive hospitality of the fisherfolk, the Mage had never been more grateful in her life to climb into a warm, soft bed with Anvar—but when she got there, she couldn’t sleep all night for worrying about the Leviathan, and the risk that he had willingly taken to help her in her quest.

The storm continued to rage all through the next day and into the following night, whistling in the dripping thatch and battering the sturdy stone-built dwellings of the Xandim fisherfolk. Living on the coast with its capricious weather, the fishing community did not favor tents except during the summer—a fact for which Aurian was extremely grateful. Though she chafed at the delay, it gave her time to appraise her companions of what had resulted from the talk with Ithalasa. The Mages—Aurian with Wolf upon her lap—gathered with Chiamh, Shia and Khanu around the great central firepit that warmed the communal living space of the large stone house, together with Parric, Sangra, Yazour, and the Xandim Herdlord and his sister. Sharing a flask of mead between them, they began to make their plans.

Since there would be some delay while the Xandim were brought across, Aurian and Anvar were reluctant to travel to the north too soon, lest Miathan and Eliseth should sense the presence of the Artifacts and strike at the Mages while they had no companions to support them. Though they were sorry to miss the journey with Ithalasa, it was decided that Parric and Sangra would go in their stead, for they had already stayed with the Nightrunners and had a claim on their friendship. Chiamh would go with them, to communicate with the Leviathan. His powers as a Windeye might also be needed if the weather turned bad again during the crossing.

Once everyone had reached the north, however, they were to make for Eilin’s Valley with all possible speed. Aurian wanted to waste no time in her attempt to claim the Sword. What would happen afterward was still a matter for conjecture. They discussed the possibilities long into the night, before finally deciding that for now, they must leave the future to take care of itself.

The following morning, the companions awoke to find that the storm had broken at last, and they emerged into a sodden landscape of dune and marram grass that had been battered mercilessly by the fury of the elements. After a hasty breakfast the companions walked down to the headland in cool and hazy sunlight that was obscured again and again by a high, thin scum of scudding clouds. The Windeye glanced up with a frown at the uneasy sky. “I fear this run of evil weather has not finished with us yet—but so long as the Leviathan swims as fast as you say, we should have time to make the crossing before the next storm comes.”

“I hope so,” Aurian replied with a shudder.

“If it starts to blow again before you reach Wyvernesse, try to make contact with us,” Anvar told Chiamh. “I’ll do my best to hold it back with the Harp until you’re safely across.”

When they reached the bay they found that the massive waves had vanished, though the sea was still choppy, with a tumbling mane of white foam upon the crest of each swiftly running wave. “Storm or no storm, it looks like we’re in for a bloody wet crossing,” said Parric gloomily—and then his words tailed off as he caught his first glimpse of the long, dark shape of Ithalasa, waiting patiently in the sparkling sea beyond the rocky point. “By the balls of Chathak!” the little cavalrymaster muttered. “I didn’t realize it would be so big!” Sangra, too, was suddenly looking rather pale, and Aurian chuckled at their discomfiture. “Don’t worry,” she assured them. “He can’t bite you—he doesn’t have any teeth.”

“He doesn’t have to,” retorted Sangra. “He could swallow us in a single gulp.”

Aurian signed, and gave it up. Some people would never understand that Ithalasa, for all his vast size and alien appearance, was a wise, gentle and intelligent being. Sadly, she thought of the sacrifice that Ithalasa was making to help these ungrateful land-dwellers. She only thanked the gods that Chiamh had been willing to undertake the journey with the warriors. If they could converse with the Leviathan, she was confident that they would soon lose their fears.

“Little One—are your companions ready?” Ithalasa prompted her gently. Suddenly Aurian realized that he was as anxious as Parric and Sangra to get this journey over. “They are,” she told him.

Though the fisherfolk had provided a small wooden boat to row the voyagers out to the Leviathan, so that they could at least start their journey dry, the Mage herself swam out to commune with him one last time before he left. Even Anvar had no idea of what passed between them in those final moments, but when Aurian emerged from the ocean to wave farewell to her departing friends, he suspected that the redness of her eyes was not entirely due to the salt water. Picking up her cloak from the rocks where she’d left it, he draped it around her shivering shoulders and hugged her close to him. “You know, if you keep on doing this, you’re going to catch your death of cold,” he told her gently.

Aurian looked out wistfully across the water to the sleek, departing shape of the Leviathan. “It would be worth it,” she said softly.