by Maggie Furey
‘What in the name of perdition do you think you’re playing at?’ he shouted at Crombec. ‘What gives you the right to come marching in here as if you own the place, telling me what I should do and where I should go? You’ve got a nerve to carry on as if you own my life. I don’t have time for this nonsense. I have business of my own to take care of.’ As he spoke he strode back and forth with shards of the glassware crunching under his boots, spitting out a furious tirade that included not only Crombec but Kea besides, calling her stupid, thoughtless, treacherous and selfish.
She opened her mouth – whether to protest or explain she wasn’t really sure – but Crombec lifted a hand and motioned her to silence. He simply sat there, in a ring of splintered glass that glittered like diamonds in the moonlight, and waited until the young Wizard had shouted himself into silence. Then he got to his feet, spreading his great wings out behind him like a mantle of shadow. ‘Fie,’ he said softly. ‘For shame, Yinze. Oh, not for attacking me – I have heard more than my fair share of youthful rages in my time, and they bother me not one whit – but how dare you, how can you say such cruel things to Kea when she has never been anything other than your friend? She had no part and no say in any of these decisions, yet you’ve abused her thoughtlessly and indiscriminately. She deserves better of you. Though she isn’t dead or missing, she still deserves your care and compassion.’
Kea saw the Wizard’s face whiten again with anger. What in the name of all Creation is Crombec doing? Yinze has just calmed down. What good will come of setting him off again?
This time, however, Yinze’s furious tirade was appreciably shorter, and ended abruptly on a choking sob. He turned on his heel and walked away from the Skyfolk, flinging himself down on a bench beneath the downswept branches of a willow tree. Though he had turned away from herself and Crombec, Kea saw his shoulders heaving and knew that he wept.
At last she understood. Instead of letting himself mourn, Yinze had been using his grief to fuel his need for vengeance and bloodshed. Crombec had been drawing that violence out of him like poison from a wound. Though every fibre of Kea’s being strained to go to him, to comfort him, she understood that this was not the time. It was better to let him grieve.
She and Crombec sat in silence for a time, watching the moon shimmer on the ocean and the bats darting low over Thara’s flowers, hunting insects. After some time had passed, Crombec raised his finger in a circling motion, and Kea felt the tingle of magic at work. As she watched, the splinters and shards of glass rose up and gathered together in a miniature whirlwind to spin in the air above the table, revolving in a spiralling dance that glittered like frost in the moonlight. Gradually the jewelled vortex began to coalesce, and sank back down towards the tabletop where it settled into a cloud that gradually reformed itself into the cordial bottle and two glasses, intact and unscathed as they had been before.
Kea had never seen anything like it. ‘That was amazing,’ she said softly.
Crombec gave her a sad little smile. ‘But I can’t put the cordial back into the bottle. Even magic has its limitations. It cannot mend a broken heart.’ He looked up and Kea, following his gaze, saw Yinze standing by the table and regarding them with ravaged eyes. ‘Nothing ever truly will,’ the old Skymage went on, clearly addressing his remarks to the Wizard this time, ‘though time, and work, and the love of your friends will help to ease the pain. I cannot even begin to imagine how you must be grieving now, how torn and desperate and hurting you must be, but please know that Kea and I care for you very deeply. If there is any way we can help you through these darkest of times, you have my word that we will.’
He pulled out another chair and gestured, but when the young Wizard remained standing he went on: ‘I understand, truly, that you feel the need to join the army and take action – but please, Yinze, consider this: your harp of Air magic is unique. You are the only one who has crafted such an implement. Though I helped you with the physical structure and the details, as did Kea, you are the one who imbued it with magic, and the only one who knows how that is done. If you go off with Sharalind’s forces and are killed, that priceless knowledge will be lost for ever. My people’s only chance to make an artefact that can help us in the troubled times that have been foreseen will be gone.’
Yinze leant forward, and looked deep into Crombec’s eyes. ‘I. Don’t. Care.’
Crombec sighed and sat back. ‘What is hurting you most of all, Yinze?’
For a moment the Wizard looked taken aback. He stood in thought for a moment, then suddenly sat down. ‘It’s Iriana. Oh, I know she isn’t dead like Avithan and Esmon, and that’s something to be grateful for, but something happened to her – something devastating, and she’s out there somewhere in the wilderness. I don’t know where she is, what’s happening to her, if she’s lost, afraid, in danger or already hurt, and I can’t help her while I’m stuck here in this accursed city. To go with the army is my only chance of finding her.’
‘The army is no good to you,’ Crombec said flatly. ‘Wherever your sister is, it cannot bring you to her in time.’
Yinze leapt up, knocking his chair over with a clatter, and hammered both his fists down on the table. ‘Don’t you think I know that? But I’ve got to do something! If you think I’m just going to sit here in Tyrineld making an accursed harp for you while Iriana is out there somewhere—’
‘What if there’s a better way?’ Crombec’s quiet words had all the power of a thunderclap.
Kea stared at her mentor, open-mouthed. Yinze, as if in a daze, set his chair back upright and sank down into it, naked shock on his face. ‘What do you mean, a better way?’
‘I brought bearers with me, Yinze. I thought I might need to stay for some time, so I needed to bring a fair amount of clothing, a number of volumes and scrolls for research, and all my tools and equipment to craft a harp. In addition, Queen Pandion insisted on an escort for my protection in these troubled times.’ He leant forward. ‘If we fly, we can move many times faster than an army on the ground. We can take you to your sister, and, more importantly, bring her back with us.’
Hope blazed up in Yinze’s eyes, so painfully bright that Kea could hardly bear to look. ‘You would really do that? You’ll help me bring Iriana home?’
Crombec nodded. ‘I will help you with all my heart, as long as you can find a scryer who can give us at least a rough idea of her location. We have no time to comb hundreds of miles of forest, for every moment that we waste in futile searching, the risk to Iriana will increase.’
Yinze’s face fell. ‘Don’t you think I’ve already asked our best scryers? I’ve been harassing them until they’re sick of the sight of me, but none of them have any idea of where Iriana might be.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Kea demanded.
‘What difference would that have made?’
‘I would have suggested you ask Atka.’
‘What, the Dragon?’ Yinze shrugged. ‘Why should she be any better than our own scryers?
‘Atka was telling me that the Dragon scryers have had great success using fire, and that she had done some training with them before she came here. You should ask her to search for Iriana, Yinze. It couldn’t hurt to try.’
The Wizard leapt to his feet. ‘Thank you, Kea. I’ll go at once.’
‘Wait.’ Crombec held up a hand. ‘If I help you, there is one condition, Yinze. If and when we find Iriana, I’m asking you to forget about avenging your friend Avithan. To put aside your thoughts of vengeance, come back to Tyrineld, and work with us. Are you prepared to do that?’
Yinze didn’t hesitate. ‘For Iriana? I’d do anything.’
18
~
MORE THAN ONE SURPRISE
Though it was evening, those who lurked upon the clifftop, opposite the cave, were very much awake. This small troop were the most accomplished of the Phaerie warriors, led by Nychan, who was tall, dark-haired and fair of face; renowned for his prowess with sword and bow and a skilled tactician in th
e games and contests of war which Hellorin held on a regular basis to keep his fighters sharp. They had been sent by Cordain to watch the cavern mouth, and had been camped out among the trees for the last two days, waiting for the intruders to arrive. While they waited in ambush here, the Chief Counsellor was gathering together all of the Phaerie steeds so that they could be guarded from any further depredations.
According to intelligence provided by the Lady Tiolani, there should be two groups of thieves and traitors: firstly, the Wizard who had been assigned to steal the Phaerie steeds, accompanied by a human slave, and secondly, the former Horsemistress and her lover, who had arrived at Eliorand with Tiolani, but escaped Cordain’s clutches by means of an incredibly daring apport.
The first pair, the Wizard and her human companion, had arrived at the cavern earlier that day riding two of the Wild Hunt’s stolen steeds, and Nychan and his warriors had been absolutely stunned to see them come flying – flying! – down the canyon. How had they done it? It looked as though the Wizardfolk had already managed to master a version of Hellorin’s flying spell. If they succeeded in their vile plan to steal the Phaerie horses, the threat to the Forest Lord’s subjects would be incalculable.
Also astounding was the fact that their stolen mounts had included – the sheer temerity of it! – Hellorin’s own prized and precious grey mare. Since the creature was purported to be unrideable by anyone save the Forest Lord, the Wizard must be either an extremely skilled horsewoman, or capable of some very advanced magic. Nychan could see why she had been chosen by the Archwizard to be the thief. Watching the way she handled herself and her horse, he found it impossible to believe Tiolani’s tale that she was blind. What other unknown powers could she wield?
Without being aware of what he was doing, he gripped the hilt of his sword. He must make sure of the Wizard first. Though he had no idea of the extent of her abilities, he could tell from what he had already seen that she’d be a force to be reckoned with. He must disable her and take her out of the fight as soon as possible, though he needed to fall short of killing her. Cordain’s orders had been specific – she must be kept alive at all costs and brought back for questioning. The extent of the Archwizard Cyran’s plots must be discovered. What else might he be planning?
It did not matter so much to Nychan whether the other conspirators lived or died, but he would prefer to take them prisoner if possible. That way he could take them back to Eliorand, where Cordain would make them all pay a thousandfold for their plots against the Phaerie.
Cordain had ordered him to hold fast until both groups had arrived, and all the rats could be caught together in one trap but, as Nychan waited with scant patience while the sun sank towards the horizon and vanished behind the trees, he began to doubt the wisdom of that plan. He already had the Archwizard Cyran’s agent exactly where he wanted her, and though his orders had been clear, he preferred to trust his experience as a warrior over that of Cordain who, when all was said and done, was nothing but a politician.
Here was the Wizard, an unknown quantity but certainly very powerful, all alone with only a human slave to help her. It made far more sense to attack her at once, to overwhelm her with numbers before her fellow conspirators could get there to help her. Once she had been taken prisoner and rendered helpless, Nychan could conceal warriors inside the cave itself to await the arrival of the others, for the warrior mistrusted Aelwen’s extraordinary apport skills, though these freak abilities did turn up in Hemifae from time to time. Though it would be exceptionally difficult and dangerous to make a blind jump into a small cave, who could say for sure that such a thing would be beyond her, or that she wouldn’t try it?
Even at this moment, he and his men could be out here sitting on their hands like a bunch of idiots, while the conspirators were meeting in the cave across the gorge. And if Aelwen could apport herself and her lover in there, it would be a lot easier for her to jump everyone out, one at a time, to some other location. Why, they might already have come and gone without anyone being any the wiser!
Though the odds against such a scenario were, admittedly, long, Nychan wasn’t about to risk letting a couple of lowborn half-breed Hemifae and a meddling Wizard make a fool out of him. Beneath the dappled shadows of the leaves, the warrior smiled grimly to himself. There was no way his plan could fail. When Aelwen and Taine arrived they would walk – or apport – right into his hands.
He used mindspeech to give his troops their orders. It was essential, at this point, to be as stealthy as possible. Quietly, they fetched their mounts from the horse lines hidden deep beneath the trees, and at his command they mounted the well-trained animals, who glimmered faintly in the sunlight from the flying spell, the most powerful that Tiolani had been able to lay on them before they left the city. There were twenty of them in all: a large number to capture such a small group of fugitives, but Cordain had decided to take no chances.
Silently, in small troops of five, they drifted across the ravine on their airborne steeds. Landing one group at a time on the narrow ledge in front of the cavern, four riders dismounted and moved into the cave while the fifth took all the reins and led the horses back across to the camp to make room for the next troop, until they were all across except for one horse keeper who waited on the far side of the gorge. Issuing orders in the most private form of mindspeech, Nychan led his troops into the cave, surprised to find no one on guard to raise the alarm. How could they be so careless? Well, their negligence would cost them dearly. The Wizard and her slave were about to receive an unwelcome surprise.
Dael found himself in the most astonishing place. ‘How did I get here?’ flashed into his mind, then was gone just as quickly. It didn’t seem important – his surroundings were just too incredible. He was in the midst of a forest carved from stone. The leaves of the trees seemed carved from thin, translucent jade, so real that it felt as if they should flutter as he passed. Stone birds could be seen amid the branches, some poised as if to flutter away in the next heartbeat; others with their heads raised and their throats swelling in a song that seemed just beyond the range of human hearing. Tiny jewelled insects fed from exquisite blossoms with petals of translucent quartz, so real that again and again he just had to lower his face to them, in hope of catching some faint scent.
How long Dael wandered he did not know, enthralled as he was by the marvels around him, but presently he came to the edge of the magical woodland and looked out across the floor of a cavern to the biggest tree he had ever seen. Was it formed of some wood and bark so ancient that they seemed petrified, or was it made of stone like the forest he had just left? Dael had no idea, but he felt no sense of danger: more a feeling of gladness and homecoming. The great tree seemed to draw him towards it, and he walked across the glittering sandy floor of the cave like a sleepwalker, his eyes fixed on his goal. As he drew closer, he noticed a staircase curving around the trunk that led to a door, about halfway up the vast shaft and high above the cavern floor.
Standing in the doorway, looking out, stood the dearest, most familiar figure . . .
‘Athina!’ Suddenly Dael was charging towards the tree and the Lady was hurtling down the steps at breakneck speed. They met at the bottom, hugging rapturously, lost in the miracle of a reunion that neither of them had ever hoped to see.
It couldn’t possibly be real. After a time, Dael pulled back from the embrace a little. ‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I? This has got to be a dream. A lovely, wonderful dream, but in a little while I’ll wake up back in my world, and you’ll still be exiled here.’
Slowly, Athina shook her head. ‘It seems perfectly real to me. Tell me, Dael, do you usually know when you’re dreaming?’
He thought about it. ‘I can’t say I do – not usually. And if I do suddenly realise that I’m dreaming, it makes me wake up.’
‘So you’re not dreaming, then, but having no magic you can’t be here in actuality. Yet somehow, a part of you has managed to find a way through . . . Tell me, Dael, are you sleeping ve
ry close to the Fialan right now?’
He nodded. ‘I’m with Corisand and Iriana, resting in that small cave that Taine told us about, on the borders of the Phaerie realm.’
‘That explains it, then. I don’t know how, but your proximity to the stone in such a confined space has somehow created some sort of doorway that your mind, or spirit, has passed through while you sleep. And in order for the Stone to be free to work like that, I suspect that Corisand must be sleeping too.’
‘A doorway? There’s a way through?’ The voice, taut with excitement, came from above them, and Dael looked up to see the young Wizard Avithan standing on the staircase above them. The last time Dael had seen him, he had been pale and still as a corpse, his features partly obscured by the eldritch glimmer of the tangled time spell that Taine and Iriana had produced in haste in order to save his life, but this was certainly Iriana’s beloved, whom the Lady had brought with her into her timeless realm in the hope of saving his life.
Clearly, she had succeeded. Now he was bounding down the staircase, his face alight with a terrible, yearning hope. ‘If he can get through, then maybe—’
‘No.’ Athina held up a hand, her eyes so flat and implacable that Avithan came to a dead stop at the bottom of the staircase. ‘I am sorry to destroy your hopes, Avithan, but it just doesn’t work like that. The Stone of Fate is in the other world, on Dael’s side of the barrier that separates that reality from this. There is no way that we can access it from this side. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. As it is, Dael will only remain here until Corisand awakens. Then the portal will be gone.’
