by Maggie Furey
Inside Yinze’s dwelling was a scene of absolute chaos, as he tried to sort out the essentials and pack. His bearers were standing by to take his baggage outside and load it into cargo nets, ready for transport in the morning, but he couldn’t see that happening any time soon. Looking at it all, the Wizard felt like tearing his hair out. How the blazes had he managed to accumulate so much stuff during his stay here? He’d thought he had managed to sort out the essentials, but unless he wanted to take a dozen winged bearers with him, it looked as though he was going to have to think again.
Kereru, moving at her usual rapid pace, whisked in with a tray containing a pot of fragrant liafa, bread, cold slices of roast mutton from the mountain sheep that roamed the lower slopes, cheese from the same animals, and some dried apricots. With her elbow she swept a pile of Yinze’s clothing off the table and put down her burden.
‘Hey! I just folded those.’
‘Not from where I’m standing.’ Kereru shrugged, her glossy feathers rustling, and began to fold the garments again, making a much better job of it in half the time.
‘I’ll never be ready,’ Yinze said disconsolately. It was very late, he had to get up early in the morning, and it looked as though he wouldn’t make it to bed tonight at all.
Kereru laid a motherly hand on his shoulder. ‘Sit. Eat. Let me help you.’ As Yinze, his mouth full of bread and meat, looked on in astonishment, the room began to organise itself, as if by magic, beneath her capable hands.
‘The climate in Tyrineld is very warm, isn’t it? Well, you won’t be wanting all this cold weather gear any longer, will you? Pick out what you’ll need for the journey and anything else you’re particularly attached to, and I’ll put the rest aside.’ She ran her hands over the furs that had covered his bed, the thick, heavy pelts of bear and the great cats that roamed the nearby Steelclaw mountain. ‘Do you want to keep any of these?’
Yinze thought of Iriana. ‘No. Definitely not.’
‘Well, you’ll need to take a couple with you for travelling or you’ll freeze in that net, but if you don’t want to keep them the bearers will bring them back. We can always use them here.’
On she went, sorting, organising, helping him with practical suggestions and, when he had finished eating, directing him in the best ways to pack. Within an hour the chaos had been reduced to two large bundles, a sack containing gifts for all his friends and family in Tyrineld and a roll of furs for the journey. Everything he was leaving behind was put away neatly or stacked against the wall.
‘Kereru, I love you.’ Yinze hugged her. Even though he was longing to see his home again, his mother, his friends and Iriana, he was sad to be leaving. His entire day had been spent in farewells, and he had felt his spirits growing heavier with each one, but this was one too many.
‘I’ll miss you very much, Yinze.’ The winged woman’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘Wherever they send me to work next, I’m sure it won’t be nearly so entertaining.’
When she had left him, the Wizard looked around at the strangely altered room. The traces of his presence, all the little personal belongings, were gone now, and he felt peculiarly unreal and displaced, as though he had ceased to exist. Like a compass needle, every thought turned unerringly northward now, towards home. For the last time, he went to his bedchamber, turned out the lamp, and curled up beneath the tickling furs in his uncomfortable, scoop-shaped bed. By this time tomorrow, he would be at the northern borders of the mountain range, and well on his way home.
Except that he wasn’t.
In the depths of the night, the Wizard was awakened by a screaming gale outside, and the staccato clatter of hail hitting his shutters. He swore, long and inventively. He was used by now to these violent mountain storms that blew up so fast and unexpectedly. When they were as bad as this one sounded, they could go on for several days. At a fresh blast of wind, he snarled another curse. This just wasn’t fair. He’d said his farewells, he’d packed, he was ready, damn it. A wild thought entered his mind of taking his harp and trying to turn the bad weather away, but he knew it was impossible. It would take many experienced Air Mages working in concert to disperse such ferocity, and the Winged Folk had learned long ago that it was a pointless waste of energy to try to tamper with the violent tempests of the mountains. Stoically, they would secure their homes and stay inside, passing the time with study, music, games and conversation, until the worst was over. With a savage jerk, Yinze pulled the covers over his head and tried to shut out the noise of the howling blasts. Might as well go back to sleep. He wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry.
It took two full days for the storm to blow itself out, and by the time it was over Yinze was almost climbing the walls through boredom and frustration. But the third day dawned with high, scudding clouds, watery sunlight, and a blustery wind that still gusted, but would at least permit strong, experienced flyers to travel. Though he had half-expected the Queen to err on the side of caution, and make him wait an extra day, the word came while he was eating breakfast: his bearers and porters were on their way, and he should be ready to leave within the hour.
Kereru, whose brother Parea had brought the message, said, ‘I’ll prepare some food for the journey,’ and vanished in the direction of her kitchen, but not before Yinze had seen her surreptitiously wipe away a tear. Bolting the last of his breakfast, he leapt from his seat and dragged his bundles outside, ready to be loaded into the cargo net that the two porters would bring. The thought of Kea, in her home across the city, doing the same thing flashed through his mind, and he wondered how she must be feeling. He remembered how he had reacted on his departure from Tyrineld: that churning mix of pride, excitement, and fear. What would the new city be like? Would the inhabitants be welcoming to one of a different race, or hostile? Would he succeed in mastering the skills he had been sent to learn, or would he return home a failure? For an instant, Yinze both envied and pitied his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Kea,’ he murmured under his breath, ‘I’ll take care of you.’
With that, he left the platform and went back inside to dress in all the layers of cold-weather clothing he could cram on. His Skyfolk companions had their race’s resistance to the cold, and would be flying besides. The exercise would keep them warm, but he would be an inanimate piece of cargo, swinging ignominiously in his net. He remembered the bitter, bone-piercing chill when he’d been brought here from Tyrineld, and his blood had still been thin from the temperate climate of home. He’d thought he would die before he reached his destination. Well, he had adapted since them, and had learned a lot about dressing against the cold. Maybe the journey home would not be quite so bad.
When I get home, he thought, I’m going to see everyone: Mother, Iriana and my friends – and Cyran, of course, he’s bound to want a report – and I’ll made sure that Kea is settled in. Then I’m going swimming. His head filled with happy thoughts of floating in those warm, silken blue waters, he headed back outside, to find the platform crowded with Kea, Ardea and Crombec, two strange Skyfolk porters busy loading his bundles into a net, and his own four personal bearers, Kereru’s brother Parea, Dunlin, Tinamou, and Chukar, who were waiting with another net, its bottom padded thickly with furs, that would be his transport home.
The porters flew off with his belongings, heading for the High Crown Pass, some five miles to the north of the city, where they would be meeting Kea’s two porters, who had gone on ahead with her baggage. That left a little more space for farewells. As Kereru brought out mugs of liafa to warm them for the journey, Yinze embraced Crombec, and his mentor Ardea, sad that he wouldn’t be seeing them again.
‘Maybe you will.’ Ardea had always been good at picking up stray thoughts from his mind. ‘You never know, Crombec and I might just come to pay you a visit one of these days.’
‘I truly hope you will,’ Yinze told her. ‘I would love to see you again, and show you my city. I can’t thank you enough – both of you – for everything you’ve done for me.’
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�Just take good care of my Kea, if you please,’ Crombec said. ‘She’s as dear as a daughter to me.’
‘I will, I promise. It will be my pleasure.’ Yinze smiled at the winged girl.
‘Ha! I can take care of myself,’ Kea snorted, then her expression softened. ‘All the same, it means a lot to me, knowing that I’ll have one friend in a strange place.’
‘You’ll soon have lots of friends,’ Yinze promised. ‘They’re going to love you in Tyrineld.’
Finally all the farewells had been said, and Yinze climbed into his net, bundling himself in the furs that Kereru had handed to him. His bearers took the strain and lifted from the ground with a great beating of wings, heading north towards the pass with Kereru circling around them to keep pace. Yinze watched Aerillia recede behind him, storing memories until it vanished from sight. It felt like the end of an era. With a gloved hand he touched his precious harp, tucked safely beside him in its fur-lined case. At least he hadn’t come away empty-handed. He would return to Tyrineld a success.
The Wizard left the past behind him and began to think of home. Of the future. But his past was not ready to let go of him yet.
The great cats of Steelclaw Mountain had proved, as always, to be worthy opponents, intelligent, cunning and fierce, but they stood little chance against a hunter armed with a crossbow and attacking from the air. Incondor’s hunting party were heading back home with their two porters carrying a net full of pelts, and their belt pouches filled with fangs and claws. The storm that had lashed Aerillia had not reached into the northern parts of the mountain range, so they had made good time, and hoped to be back within the hour. They had been passing a flask of contraband brandy between them as they flew, and his companions, Milvus and Torgos, were jubilant at their success, but Incondor’s thoughts were dark. He knew full well that the Queen had dispatched him off to Steelclaw to keep him away from that worm Yinze. He realised that she planned to send the Wizard away in his absence, cheating him of his revenge. Yinze – or Kea, he wasn’t sure which, for the pair of them were constantly in each other’s pockets – had told Crombec and Ardea about the liquor, and Pandion had made it clear that there would be consequences to face on his return.
No wonder Incondor’s mood was black.
Still, he had one last hope of placating the Queen. On his hunt he had been incredibly lucky, and had found a white cub. These aberrations, known as ghost cats by the Skyfolk, were incredibly rare among the great cats, which tended to be marked in various combinations of black and gold. Their pelts were said to bring good fortune to the owner, and when Incondor gave this one to the Queen, that luck should spill out over the entire Skyfolk race. Surely that would be enough to save him from her wrath?
He had left the cub alive. This treasure would be skinned by experts back in the city, who could make sure that the precious hide was undamaged. Unfortunately, the creature was young – only about the size of the white foxes that hunted on the lower slopes – but it was a precious ghost cat, nonetheless. He had insisted on carrying it himself, and it swung beneath him in a net, mewling with fear. Its lack of size would not diminish its value.
The High Crown Pass hove into sight, and Incondor knew he would soon be home. Milvus flew up beside him. ‘Do you want to stop here and rest for a little while, or shall we press on?’
‘Press on. I plan to get back as soon as possible, before this stupid animal dies on me. I want the pelt to be as fresh as possible.’
Then Incondor saw a group of figures below, resting in the pass. The Winged Folk had excellent vision. Even though it was summer there was still snow at this altitude, and Yinze’s purple cap stood out clearly against the white background.
The winged man looked at his companions with a feral grin, and gestured them downward. ‘I’ve just changed my mind,’ he said.
The Wizard and his companions were making a brief stop in the pass, to rendezvous with their porters and make sure all their baggage was organised, before they set off on the long journey north. Yinze had dusted the snow off a boulder and was sitting down, with his harp case open on his lap. In the final scramble to leave Aerillia he had packed the precious instrument rather hastily, and he wanted to make sure it was safe and secure before continuing on his way.
Kea, dressed in snug travelling clothes of a tunic and leggings, came over to him. ‘Are you finished yet? We’re all ready to—’ Her words were cut off by the thundering of wings. Snow whirled up, blinding them, and as it cleared Yinze found himself confronting Incondor and his henchmen.
The Wizard’s heart sank. He’d thought he’d seen the last of his foe. Ardea had made no secret of the fact that Pandion had sent him home while Incondor was away hunting, in the hope of keeping the two of them apart. Had it not been for the storm which had delayed him, the plan would have worked perfectly. His bearers, under orders from the Queen to protect the Wizard at all costs, closed ranks around him, outnumbering the interlopers.
Incondor’s eyes glinted nastily. ‘Well, well. If it isn’t the Wizard and his little friend. I’m so glad I didn’t miss the chance to say farewell.’
Kea’s attention was on the mewling bundle. ‘What are you doing with that cub?’
‘It’s a gift for the Queen.’ Again, that feral grin. ‘I killed its mother and siblings yesterday, but this is the only white kit that has been seen on Steelclaw for many years. Won’t it look lovely when it’s skinned? That pelt is going to make me very popular with Pandion for some time to come, I suspect.’
Yinze looked at the wretched little creature, pity stirring in his heart. He thought of Iriana, so far away, and knew that she would want him to save it. Yinze, with a half-formed plan of promising Incondor liquor in trade for the cub, stepped closer – and smelled the brandy on the winged man’s breath. ‘If I were you, I’d take some time to sober up before meeting her,’ he said with a grin. ‘If she smells that liquor on you, all the scrawny cubs in the world won’t save your hide.’
‘She won’t catch me,’ Incondor sneered. ‘I’m far too clever.’
‘You’re clever enough to let a number of witnesses see you in this state, including some of the Queen’s own bearers, sent along by her to make sure we met no trouble.’
Incondor turned white as he realised that he had trapped himself. For a moment his brash pose crumpled, and his arrogant expression was replaced by a sick, furtive look. Then the panic disappeared, as anger won out. Dropping the cub he lunged, and smashed his fist into the Wizard’s face, catching him beneath the left eye. Yinze reeled back, cursing, and impacted hard against the cliff face. Fuelled by blazing rage, he used the rock as a springboard to launch himself at his foe, and crashed into the winged man, knocking him off his feet.
The pair rolled on the ground, kicking, pummelling and gouging at one another. Yinze’s entire focus was on the battle. He was bigger and heavier, but his opponent was lightning-fast, and was possessed of a wiry strength that the Wizard had not suspected. Also, the Winged Folk had sharp, curved, talon-like fingernails, which Incondor used as a weapon in addition to his fists, tearing at Yinze’s face and coming perilously close to his eyes. Nevertheless, as the pair scrambled back to their feet, the Wizard was more than holding his own. This fight had been a long time coming, and he had months of taunts, pranks, and downright bullying to avenge. With a black savagery completely at odds with his usual, sunny nature, he began to press home his advantage, driving Incondor back.
The winged man’s eyes were swollen, his face was scraped and bruised. Blood flooded from his nose as he choked and gasped for breath. Yinze pulled back his fist for one last blow to finish it, but suddenly hands were grasping him from behind, pulling him back from his foe. With a jolt of anger at such betrayal, he realised that his own bearers had intervened – and then another shock, of horror this time – turned his wrath to black terror as he saw that Incondor’s companions had hold of Kea, and Torgos was pressing a blade against her throat.
‘This has gone far enough, Wizard,’
Milvus said. ‘Take your bearers and your Skyfolk trull and leave these lands. Never come back, for if you do – we’ll be waiting.’
‘Gladly.’ Yinze spat blood onto the ground. Part of him, seeing Kea’s face bone-white with fear, revolted against retreating from these cowardly louts, but despite his temper he had intelligence enough to realise that this was the most sensible option. Having managed to avoid any dishonour or disgrace all these months, he must not fail at the final hurdle. ‘Let her go. We’re leaving.’
Torgos pushed Kea away from him, hard. Yinze caught her as she stumbled, and saw that her eyes were blazing with anger. He bit down on his own fury, though it nearly strangled him, and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s go. The sooner we’re far away from these scum, the better.’
Incondor, however, had other ideas. While the Wizard was distracted he scrambled to his feet and his eye fell on the harp, resting atop the rock in its open case. Before anyone could react he darted past Yinze, snatched up the instrument, and rocketed into the sky.
‘Come near me and I’ll drop it,’ he screamed, spittle flying, as Kea and the porters prepared to take wing. Helpless, they all watched in dismay as he flew higher. ‘If you’re going to ruin me, I’ll pay you back. See how you manage the powers of Air without your little toy.’
‘For pity’s sake be careful,’ Yinze shouted. ‘That’s no toy, you fool, and you don’t understand it. It’s loaded with strange magic.’
‘Magic, my backside,’ Incondor jeered. ‘A child could master this trinket.’ To Yinze’s horror, he slung the strap over his shoulder and began to play.
It happened with terrifying speed. The gusting wind screamed into a tempest, and the clouds came swirling down into a vortex of spinning air that centred on the harp. Snow and stones flew up into Yinze’s face and the gale flattened him back against the cliff. He snatched at Kea’s hand as she was whirled helplessly past him, her wings catching the wind like sails, and pulled her against him, trying to shelter her with his body.
