by Maggie Furey
Taine kissed her gently. ‘Don’t be sorry. Far from killing us, you saved our lives.’ There had been a death sentence on his head, imposed by the Phaerie Lord long ago, that Tiolani had intended to remove on their return, but she was now Cordain’s prisoner and he was determined to carry out his master’s will. Aelwen too would have fared badly, having committed the extremely grave crime of stealing several of the Xandim steeds, and she’d acted on instinct to take the only way out, apporting herself and Taine – who knew where? They could have ended up anywhere.
‘Don’t think about what might have been, my love. Right now we need to concentrate on what is.’ Taine’s words helped calm her, almost as much as his closeness did. Oh, how she had missed him all these years. What an unbelievable joy it was, to have him back!
‘We’ll just take a minute or two to recover,’ he continued, ‘then we should move on and find a better hiding place than these bushes. Have you any notion of where we are, or how far we’ve come?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Aelwen shook her head. ‘There was certainly no time to pick a destination. I acted on pure impulse. When those guards came at you I just grabbed you – and went.’
‘They were coming at you, too,’ he reminded her gently, ‘but trust you not to think of that. You got us out of there, so now it’s my turn. One way and another, I’ve learned a lot about wilderness survival over the years. I don’t suppose you’re carrying any food and water with you?’
‘A little.’ Aelwen felt quite smug to be able to say it.
‘You are?’ His eyebrows went up in surprise.
‘When I escaped from Eliorand, the night of that tremendous storm, I got stranded alone in the forest with nothing to eat or drink. I swore I’d never make that mistake again. Of course everything is probably squashed out of all recognition.’ So far they had not moved from their sprawled embrace, but now she spared an arm to feel gingerly for the pouch that she’d tied to her belt when they had set out – it seemed so long ago now – from Athina’s tower. It was still there. The jerky it contained would survive anything, and though the bread had been flattened, the contents would nourish them nonetheless. The leather water bottle, slung over her shoulder and across her body on its long strap, was also intact, its contents still in place.
‘Good.’ Taine sounded pleased. ‘I have some basic rations too. Are you ready to find out where we’ve landed? Let’s hope we’re far enough away from the city that they won’t find us too soon. Though Cordain has seized the reins of power in the realm, he is still the Forest Lord’s Chief Counsellor. Hellorin put a death sentence on my head, so Cordain will carry it out if he can – and you will meet the same fate for stealing Xandim. You know the law, Aelwen. We can’t let them catch us. We’ve got to get moving.’
Though Aelwen didn’t feel like moving for the next century or so, Taine was already clambering to his feet, with a speed and ease which made her envious and faintly annoyed. It was all very well for him, she thought. He had just been the passenger in the apport. She had done all the hard work.
‘Come on, you can do it.’ He grinned at her and held out a hand. Unable to resist grinning back, she took it and let him haul her up. For a moment her head spun and she lurched against him.
‘Are you all right?’ She heard the concern in Taine’s voice.
‘I feel as if I’ve been stamped on very hard, by a giant boot, but it’ll pass.’
‘Here, take my arm – no, not the sword arm, the other one – and I’ll help you.’
‘Just for a little while, until I pull myself together.’ With a flash of pain, she thought of her black stallion Taryn, the bay Alil and the pretty skewbald mare Halira, all left behind in Eliorand when she had apported out of there. ‘I wish I could have brought the horses, too. It would have helped both of us.’ She was very aware that Taine had recently suffered some dreadful injuries, after being mauled by a bear. First Iriana and then Athina had done first-rate jobs of healing him, but his body would still need time to recover its full energy, strength and balance.
Taine, as he did so often, seemed to pick up on her thoughts. ‘It can’t be helped about our mounts, love,’ he said. ‘Or Tiolani. There was nothing you could have done. Even you couldn’t apport the two of us, Tiolani and three horses too – though knowing how you love them, I’m surprised you didn’t try. Come on, we’ll help each other.’
As they emerged from the undergrowth, Aelwen gave a gasp of surprise. There in front of them was a torrent of fast-moving water, so broad that the great trees on the opposite bank seemed to be no bigger than the bushes they had just left. ‘It’s the Carnim, that flows between Hellorin’s lands and the realm of the Wizards. I brought us all the way back to the border!’
‘By the Light, Aelwen! How did you manage that? No wonder you’re so exhausted. I see I shall have to watch my step in future.’ He smiled at her. ‘You don’t know your own strength.’
‘It must have been pure instinct,’ Aelwen said, ‘to get as far from the Phaerie as I could. At least we’ll be safe from search parties for quite a while, since they no longer have the flying spell.’
Taine frowned. ‘Unless Tiolani betrays us to save herself. If that has happened, they could have the flying spell right now.’
‘She wouldn’t—’ Aelwen’s protest died away. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny the possibility.
‘I think she would.’ His voice took on a hard edge. ‘Remember that, to Tiolani, it will seem as if we abandoned her.’
‘But I couldn’t have apported three people,’ Aelwen protested, horrified. ‘And we were the ones whose lives were at stake.’
‘Of course you couldn’t.’ He put a comforting arm around her shoulder. ‘And you’re right – we were the ones in peril. I don’t know what Cordain plans for Tiolani, but he won’t risk hurting Hellorin’s daughter and angering the Forest Lord, should Hellorin come back. And if the Forest Lord cannot return to his body, then Tiolani is the last remaining scion of his line, and the only one who can perform the flying spell. Cordain cannot harm her. As you say, we are the ones whose lives were at stake. But Tiolani might not see things that way, and the worst of it is, she knows all our plans.’
The plans, such as they were, had been made in haste back at Athina’s tower, before they had all taken their leave of one another. If all had been well in Eliorand, and Tiolani had taken up the reins of power, as they had expected, Aelwen and Taine had planned to meet Corisand and her companions – supposing their plans worked out, and they won the Fialan and found a way to return from the Elsewhere to their own world – at a hidden place that Taine had discovered during his life of spying and concealment.
This location, closer to the border than the city, was where another river, the Snowstream, descended from the northern mountains and flowed down to join with the Carnim. Just before the confluence the Snowstream plunged through a narrow gorge, and it was in this shadowy and secret place, filled with the roar and power of the constricted torrent, that Taine had found a cave, partway up the cliff. It was far from easy to reach, but that only made it more secret and safe for the conspirators.
Since the Windeye and the Wizard would be forced to travel on horseback with no flying spell, it would take them a few days longer to reach the cave than Tiolani’s party. Had the plan worked out, that would have given Hellorin’s heir time to assemble all the Xandim, on the pretext of taking a count of all the herds and studs, so that Corisand would be able to take them all together when the time came to free them. When they met at the cave, Aelwen and Taine would be able to tell Corisand of the current conditions in Eliorand, and they could make further arrangements from there.
That had been the plan – until Hellorin’s Chief Counsellor Cordain had ruined everything. Tiolani was now his prisoner, and she knew everything, including the location of their meeting place. Would she use the information to purchase her freedom? When Corisand and the others arrived at the cave, would there be a mounted patrol of Phaerie warriors
waiting to trap them?
‘We need to move, and fast,’ Taine continued, ‘but which way shall we go? Back towards Eliorand? To the cave? Or should we return to our friends at the tower and warn them of the danger? Right now, we don’t know whether Iriana and Corisand succeeded, or if they’re even alive.’
Aelwen saw the shadow of worry pass across him: the sag of his shoulders; the biting of his lower lip; the fleeting frown. ‘They’ll be all right,’ she reassured him. ‘Look what they went through before we met them. They’re survivors, and between them they have a lot of resources to draw on. If anyone can bring the Fialan back from the Elsewhere, they can.’
Taine took a deep breath and straightened. ‘You’re right, of course. Together, combining their two different sets of powers, they’re a force to be reckoned with. But if they do get the Fialan, we can’t risk them being ambushed when they come to meet us. Because if Tiolani exposes the rest of us to save herself, Corisand and Iriana could walk straight into a trap.’
Aelwen stared at him, appalled. Unaccustomed to intrigue, her mind had been concentrating on their own present peril, not the future risks to their other companions. ‘Whichever way we go, I can’t get us there yet,’ she said. ‘Not with another apport. I expended too much energy bringing us all the way here.’
‘You’re right,’ Taine agreed. ‘You ought to eat, and then sleep for a little while, supposing we can find somewhere safe. Besides, we need to think things through very carefully before you take us on another jump. We were lucky last time. Next time we need to know exactly where we’re heading, and we should probably do it in stages, so it doesn’t exhaust you so much. If you’d burned yourself out last time, attempting so much . . .’
‘Don’t.’ Aelwen shuddered. ‘We might never have materialised at all, either of us. Would we have died? Or been caught for all eternity in some endless limbo? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘We won’t think about it. It didn’t happen and it won’t happen next time, because we’ll plan it out and take greater care, making several small jumps.’
Easy for you to say, Aelwen thought. But she said nothing, because she knew that he was right. It would be difficult, time-consuming and downright dangerous to try to get anywhere on foot in this vast forest full of predators. Her apport skills at least provided a way out, and the river gave them a very rough idea of their location. She studied the direction of the flow. ‘If I’m right, it looks as though we’re on the Phaerie side of the border,’ she said.
‘You are right,’ Taine replied. ‘We are on the Phaerie side. And it looks as though we were asleep, or unconscious, or whatever it was, for quite a while.’
While they had been talking the sun had gone down, and a shadowy dusk had crept around them as stealthily as the swirls of mist that were rising from the river and curling around their feet. Aelwen pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and shivered – but not just from the evening chill. Something had changed. Something was very wrong. Now that the daylight had gone this place felt different; an uneasy, uncomfortable atmosphere surrounded her like a miasma, as though she was being watched by hostile eyes. A profound silence had fallen. There was no sound of wind in the trees, no sleepy chirrups as the birds settled down for the night, no rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth. Even though she could see the river quite clearly, she could no longer hear it running.
She looked around to see if Taine had noticed the alteration in the atmosphere, but he was still talking, thinking aloud, absorbed in their plans. ‘Maybe we should head back towards the tower. But we would probably miss the others in the forest. So the cave is probably best. If we—’
Then the nightmare broke loose. Without warning, they were engulfed in darkness – then a horde of terrifying ghostly forms exploded into existence all around them: speeding towards them from the forest’s edge, rising from the river mist, falling from the murky skies above. The air was pierced by the shrilling of angry shrieks and howls in strange, inhuman voices, and there seemed to be words in the screeching, though they did not understand the language. An odd shivering in the air, like the heat rising from a courtyard on a summer day, made the apparitions visible against the surrounding gloom, and in these roiling shadows, flashing out like lightning through storm clouds, was the deadly glitter of fangs and claws, and eyes that burned with a white-hot rage.
Aelwen and Taine took in this horror in the space of a single heartbeat. They whirled back to back; his sword came whistling out with fearsome speed while she drew hers more clumsily. Though she had learned the basics long ago, she had little interest in swordplay, and had not drawn a blade in years. It made no difference. The terror struck them first, a blood-chilling miasma that surged in front of the phantoms like a wave. A breath behind it came the ghosts themselves.
Aelwen swung her sword to spit the first leaping shape: the blade clove through thin air and the thing plunged on as before, inexorable and unchanged. Yet the claws and fangs were all too sharp and solid, and buried themselves deep in Aelwen’s shoulder. She screamed as the pain tore through her, and dropped the useless weapon as other beings from the uncanny throng attached themselves to her legs and leapt to sink their claws into her arms.
Suddenly there was a dazzling blaze. Taine, the Wizard half-blood, had conjured magelight, and for a heartbeat the attackers halted, shocked and frozen in the glare. In the actinic light they were haloed with a translucent, bluish glimmer, and the trees and ground behind them could be seen, blurred and distorted, through their bodies. No human apparitions, these. Those that poured out of the forest to leap on their prey, going for arms, throats and faces, were small, about the size of a fox, but long, lithe and sinuous, and deathly quick. Those that emerged from the ground to attack legs and feet were different: a sleek, domed shape with horny carapaces, scaly faces and limbs, and great, strong, sturdy forelimbs armed with formidable claws.
The frozen instant passed in an eyeblink, and the ghosts attacked again.
Taine had managed to hold on to his blade, but it did him no good. By now both he and Aelwen were bleeding in a number of places, their clothing shredded to tatters, their lifeblood running down in rivulets to mingle on the ground. Overwhelmed, they sank beneath the onslaught. Aelwen felt talons scrabbling at her upraised arms, trying to reach her throat, and knew the end had come . . .
‘Hai renya! Zintavaral istolan!’ The voice rang out like a thunderclap, and though Aelwen could not understand the language, the authority in the words smote her like a fist. Abruptly, instantly, the phantoms fell back a little way, surrounding Taine and Aelwen in a snarling, gibbering circle, their palpable fury blasting across the intervening space.
‘Come,’ said the voice. ‘I will take you to safety. Hurry, for not even I can hold back the wrath of the ghosts for ever.’ A hand came down, knotted with age, yet when Aelwen took it, its grasp was surprisingly firm and strong. She looked up and saw that its owner had the look of a Phaerie half-blood, like herself and Taine, but old – old! His sleek cap of hair was pewter grey, his face a mass of lines and wrinkles and he leant upon a heavy staff, though his stance was upright for one so aged. His eyes were hooded, piercing, dark and wise, as befitted one of his venerable years, yet his engaging smile belonged to the youth he once had been.
‘Come,’ he said again, more urgently this time. ‘Trust me. Your lives depend upon it. There is a shelter of sorts nearby that we can reach if you are stout of heart.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And I have no doubt that you are. You need not fear the ghosts. As long as you are with me, you will be protected.’
He lifted his hand and a glimmer of light appeared around him, illuminating their immediate surroundings with a faint golden radiance. They scrambled to their feet and limped after him as quickly as they could, though Aelwen noticed that Taine still had his sword drawn. Moving faster than they had expected, the ancient one led them away from the river and into the trees. The phantom horde fell back before them, but one glance over her shoulder told
Aelwen that they were following, crowding behind the travellers and dogging their footsteps. She did not dare look again, and despite the pain of her many wounds she quickened her steps.
The forest here was dense and dark, dwarfing them beneath the massive trees. All the undergrowth had been choked off for want of light, and they moved as if traversing the gigantic, pillared hall of some ancient king. Behind them and close on either side flowed the ghosts, their gibbering hushed now; stalking, waiting. Suddenly there was a glimmer of white through the trees, and a few more steps brought Aelwen into a small, cramped clearing, in the centre of which sat a most peculiar structure. It was a simple dome, a perfect hemisphere hewn from white marble, carved with a multitude of runes, some recognisably Phaerie, others incomprehensible and strange, all of them shimmering with power. It stood no taller than Aelwen at its apex and had no doors or windows that she could see.
The phantoms had fallen back now, unable or unwilling to enter the clearing, but Aelwen could still feel their hatred and hostility gnawing at her like iron teeth. The ancient guide turned back to his companions. ‘This is my dwelling,’ he said simply. ‘In a manner of speaking, and such as it is. Now, before I permit you to enter, I wish to know why and how you came here.’
Taine looked at him suspiciously. ‘And I wish to know more about you. Is this truly a shelter? Or a trap? Who are you, and what do you want with us?’
Aelwen turned to her lover in astonishment. Somehow, it had never occurred to her to doubt their benefactor. Something in his demeanour, in his eyes, had made her trust him at once. ‘Taine,’ she protested. ‘He wants to help us. He saved us from the ghosts.’
‘How do we know he’s not in league with them? It would be easy enough to have them attack us so that he could pretend to rescue us and lure us here.’
‘It is no trap,’ the old one replied, ‘though I understand your suspicion, for there is nothing in this haunted place that breeds trust, or indeed any good feelings. Though your instincts for survival have no doubt stood you in good stead through the years, in this case your lady’s intuition will serve you better.’
