by Maggie Furey
The end came without warning. Suddenly her shield burst apart, the enemy came streaming through, and she was overwhelmed.
Less than a month ago, Aelwen had believed that she’d never see Taine again. Their reunion, beyond all hope and expectation, had transformed her life, and the joy that filled her, the jolt of pure, bright pleasure that she experienced every time she saw him, were the most wonderful feelings she had ever known. So she had never expected that, after such a short time, she would be cursing his name.
Aelwen was a horsewoman. She had worked in the Forest Lord’s stables since she was a girl. She had the strong legs of a rider, the strong arms, back and shoulders that came from years of controlling powerful horses, but it took an entirely different set of muscles to slog on foot through miles and miles of endless forest, to wade chest deep, or even worse, to swim across freezing cold rivers, to plough through stretches of mosquito-infested, glutinous muskeg and to hack a route through tangled undergrowth with briars tangling in her hair and tearing at her skin, and branches whipping across her face . . .
Right at this minute, Aelwen thought, glaring at Taine as he slipped through the trees as effortlessly as a shadow, she would have gladly traded her lover for her horse.
It was all very well for him. In his years as a fugitive and a spy, he had grown accustomed to this form of rough travel, and become a very skilled woodsman. But they had been on the march for the best part of two days now, following the river staying on the Wizards’ side to avoid detection, with the spectral forms of the Dwelven thronging around them, producing wave after wave of anger and hate that beat against Taine and Aelwen remorselessly, draining their flagging spirits even as the forest was wearing down their bodies.
It had begun to feel as if they would never reach the ravine in which the others should be hiding out. At first, Aelwen had been able to apport herself and Taine over the rougher sections of the terrain, but the effort had proved to be increasingly exhausting for her, requiring longer and longer rests afterwards, until they had decided that they would ultimately make better time on their own aching feet. (Aelwen was wearing riding boots, and the pain of her blistered toes and heels was growing worse by the hour.)
Kaldath, despite all the years he carried, fared better. Somehow, his close connection with the Dwelven spirits allowed them to carry him along, and his body, neither truly alive nor dead, but caught by Hellorin in a strange, magical limbo of immortality, did not feel the strain of all the hard travel. He also was immune to the oppressive miasma of emotion that emanated from the ghosts, which was sapping so much of Taine and Aelwen’s energy.
‘We’re almost there,’ Taine had said that morning, when they had risen before sunrise to resume their grim march. ‘It’s shouldn’t be all that much further.’ He had led them to a reasonably safe place to cross the border between the Wizard and Phaerie realms, where the Carnim river spread out in a series of riffles interspersed with rocks and gravel bars. The water had still been waist deep in places, however, and had contained a number of hidden dips and crevices where a false step could result in a soaking. Despite using a drying spell on herself when she reached the far side, Aelwen still felt slightly damp, with her hair hanging in rat-tails, and her clothing stiff with silt and mud.
Hours had passed since then, and now the sun had sunk down behind the treetops once more. Stealthily, they crept along, with even greater caution than ever, now that they were on the northern, Phaerie side of the river. Suddenly Taine, walking ahead, stopped and raised his hand. ‘Almost there,’ he whispered. ‘Look.’
Aelwen followed his pointing hand towards the river, and saw the extraordinary, bicoloured waters, the light and dark streams running alongside one another.
‘We’re finally near the confluence of the Carnim and the Snowstream,’ Taine whispered. ‘The gorge is just ahead.’ He turned to the ancient guardian of the Dwelven ghosts. ‘Kaldath, can you send some of the spirits into the ravine to scout for us? Have them check the woods along the top of the cliffs, too, on either side. I want to make sure we’re not walking into a trap.’
‘Of course.’ Kaldath walked a little way apart, and Aelwen saw the air roil and shimmer as the Dwelven spirits clustered around him in response to his mental call. Then suddenly they were gone, and the feelings of oppression, of sorrow and anger in the air all vanished. Kaldath came walking back to the Hemifae. ‘It should not take them long to find out what you need to know.’
‘In that case, I’m going to make the most of what time we have.’ With a sigh of relief, Aelwen sank down onto the soft leaf litter, propped her aching back against a tree trunk, and stretched out her legs. She took her water flask and a strip of jerky out of the pouch at her belt, took a swig, then began to chew her way through the leathery strip of dried meat.
Taine sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ve done well,’ he told her. ‘It’s a tough journey through deep forest for someone who isn’t used to travelling for long distances on foot. Hopefully, once we join the others, you’ll be back in your element, astride a horse.’
Aelwen grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t count on it. Tiolani was captured, remember, and we were forced to leave her behind. Without her flying magic we won’t be going anywhere in a hurry. Of course,’ she added in brighter tones, ‘Iriana and the others – if they made it – should have brought their mounts with them, so at least we won’t have to slog the entire way to Eliorand on foot.’ Then her expression relapsed into gloom. ‘That is, if they succeeded in winning the Fialan and getting back from the Elsewhere, and if they managed to get here, and if the Phaerie haven’t caught them already.’
‘Well, we’ll soon find out.’ Taine was looking across at Kaldath who had risen to his feet as the air around him grew turbulent once more. The ancient one stood for a moment, listening intently, then he rejoined Taine and Aelwen, looking grim. ‘The Phaerie are here,’ he said gravely, ‘and so are your friends, as far as I can ascertain from what I have been told. According to the Dwelven there seems to be some sort of fight going on inside the cave. We had better get up there quickly.’
Taine looked at Aelwen. ‘Have you strength enough for one last apport?’
‘Into a cave? Somewhere I’ve never been before? We could be entombed in solid rock!’
‘I’ve been there before, many times,’ Taine replied. ‘You can take the placement from my mind.’
‘But if the place is full of people, both the Phaerie and our friends, how can we know where there’ll be a clear space?’
‘Wait a little while,’ Kaldath said flatly. ‘The Dwelven will take care of the Phaerie.’
Hands seized Corisand roughly, holding her tight enough to bruise. She struggled at first in the grip of her captors, but when her efforts earned her nothing but blows, she finally desisted and hung limp in their grasp, her face, ribs and stomach throbbing fiercely. Her mind, however, was still working with the rapidity of terror.
I’ll act cowed and scared – that won’t be difficult. Surely they’ll drop their guard at some point, and there’ll be a chance to escape. I just need to buy myself some time to work out a way—
The Phaerie captain – Nychan, she recognised him from her days with the Wild Hunt – might as well have been reading her mind. ‘Bind her tightly, and someone signal across the gorge for the horses to be brought, and another net. I don’t know who, or what this one is, but the sooner we get her safely back to Eliorand, the sooner Cordain will be able to start finding out what she knows.’
He was just turning away from her when it happened.
Out of nowhere, Corisand was struck by an oppressive, gut-freezing sense of dread. Waves of rage and hatred seemed to come at her out of the empty air, striking fear into her heart as even the Phaerie had failed to do. Then suddenly strange, spectral creatures poured into the cavern, dropping from the ceiling, oozing from the walls, erupting out of the floor. An odd shivering in the air, like the heat rising from a courtyard on a summer day, ma
de the apparitions visible against the surroundings 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.
The Phaerie started screaming as the invaders swarmed over them. Blood sprayed and spattered as great rents and gashes appeared in their bodies, their limbs and faces. The discordant, high-pitched, screeching shrieks of triumph that came from the attackers ripped the air, mingling with the Phaerie cries of agony as eyes were gouged, flesh was torn and bones were snapped.
Her captors let go of Corisand, who dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball. The creatures seemed to be concentrating on the Phaerie and leaving herself and the still form of Dael unscathed, but she wasn’t about to risk attracting their attention. Besides, this way she didn’t have to see the hideous carnage that was taking place all around.
Hours seemed to stretch by while she lay there, but in reality, it could only have been a matter of minutes before the screaming stopped, the shrieks of triumph died away and the sickening waves of rage and hatred dissipated from the atmosphere. All that remained was the stench of ordure and blood, and the silence of the Phaerie dead.
After a while, the Windeye finally plucked up the courage to open her eyes and look around, and what she saw in the pale remains of Iriana’s dying magelight brought nausea flooding into her throat. Mangled corpses lay on the floor, limbs missing or badly askew, as if the bodies had been tossed carelessly aside. Only she and Dael had been left untouched, and Dael was— Her mouth fell open. ‘You’re alive!’
Dael, though spattered with Phaerie blood, was sitting up and looking around in horror at the scene of carnage. Then he turned his gaze to her. ‘What in perdition happened here?’ he demanded, his eyes huge and round. ‘What did you do?’
Corisand began to deny doing anything, but was interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the outer part of the cave, frantically calling her name, and those of Dael and Iriana. Relief swept over her. It was Taine and Aelwen! ‘We’re in here,’ she called.
They appeared in the entrance to the smaller cave, Aelwen looking pale and shaken at the sight of all the dead. ‘Corisand, Dael. Thank providence you’re safe. Are you all right?’ As quickly as the slippery floor would allow she picked her way through the corpses and knelt down beside the Windeye. ‘Have you been hurt?’
‘I’m all right.’ Corisand grabbed Aelwen in a bone-crushing hug. ‘I thought you’d been captured,’ she said. ‘Tiolani—’
‘So she did betray us.’ Aelwen’s expression tightened with pain. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt? You look terrible.’
Corisand realised she must be as gore-spattered as Dael, and hastened to reassure the Horsemistress. ‘I’m just so tired – I couldn’t hold the Phaerie off any more. Then those dreadful, dreadful – things – attacked out of nowhere, but they only hurt the Phaerie, and left us alone.’ She paused, looking narrowly at Aelwen. ‘You don’t seem at all surprised by any of this. Do you know what they were, those beings?’
‘Never mind all that – did you get it? Do you have the Fialan?’
Taine, in the meantime, had been helping Dael to his feet. ‘They didn’t hurt me,’ the young man was explaining, ‘but only because they thought I was already dead, and—’
‘Where’s Iriana?’ Taine interrupted.
‘They took her,’ Corisand said. ‘She was outside my shield, and I couldn’t keep them away from her. They took her away, back to Eliorand.’
Taine spat out a violent curse. ‘We’re going after them,’ he snapped, already turning to leave the cave. ‘How much start do they have?’
Aelwen leapt to her feet. ‘Plague take Tiolani! Without her flying spell, we’ll never catch them. Quick – we’ll explain everything else later. We have to get across the ravine. Maybe there’s probably enough of the spell remaining on the Phaerie horses to get us to Eliorand.’
‘I can do better than that,’ Corisand said. ‘I do have the Fialan and – the Fialan! Where is it? It rolled away somewhere.’ She looked wildly around the cave, daunted by the idea of scrabbling among the mangled Phaerie corpses in search of the stone.
Taine had no such compunction. ‘Where did it fall?’
‘Around here, near the wall somewhere, I think,’ Dael replied.
Taine squatted down. ‘There’s a natural opening down here, just a small crevice – ouch!’ He snatched his hand back with an oath and looked in astonishment at the bleeding scratches. ‘There’s something in there.’
‘Melik,’ Dael cried. He knelt down by the aperture and called to the cat, his voice low and coaxing.
‘We don’t have time for this.’ Taine pulled a pair of leather gloves from his belt and thrust his arm back down the hole, pulling a snarling, spitting, very frightened feline out by the scruff. ‘Here.’ He dumped Melik into Dael’s arms, where the cat fought and struggled to be free. Dael bore the scratches without complaint, and in a little while Melik calmed and lay trembling in his arms.
Corisand, in the meantime, had spotted the Stone of Fate, which had been dislodged from the same hole when Taine had pulled the animal out. ‘I’ve found it!’ she cried. As her fingers closed around the pulsing green gem she felt the power flooding back into her, along with a euphoria so intense that it brought tears to her eyes. Then at the edge of her vision there was a movement, and she swung around to see a strange old man standing in the entrance to the cave. Without thinking, she raised the Fialan and summoned its powers to strike.
‘Corisand, no!’ Aelwen shouted, grabbing her arm. ‘This is Kaldath. We met him in the forest. He’s a friend.’
‘As I said, we’ll explain everything, but we’ve got to get after Iriana right now,’ Taine said urgently. ‘Those accursed Phaerie have a head start on us, there’s no time to waste. What if the flying spell wears off?’
‘I was trying to tell you,’ the Windeye said. ‘After you left I discovered how to cast my own flying spell, using the Fialan. As far as that’s concerned, we’re no longer dependent on Tiolani.’
Aelwen let out a whoop, and hugged her. ‘Corisand, you are truly amazing.’
‘Indeed you are,’ said Taine. ‘Kaldath, can you ride?’
‘I can. And wherever I go, the Dwelven will follow.’
‘Then let’s get moving,’ Aelwen said. ‘The Phaerie have left their horses on the other side of the ravine, so if you can perform the flying spell, Corisand, I’ll take Rosina across and bring back mounts for everyone.’
‘No, it’ll be easier if I transform back into a horse and fly you across the gorge in relays. We have Rosina too, so it won’t take very long. We’ll have more room to get organised on the other side, and when we’re ready, it will be far easier to take off from there.’
In only took a very short time to get everyone across the gorge, and select horses for those who had none. The remainder of the steeds would follow their Windeye, obeying her call, and Corisand suddenly realised that she had made a start on freeing her people – albeit only a handful. The rest must wait. For now, the most urgent consideration was saving Iriana’s life. Dael rode Rosina once more, with Melik in his basket strapped securely to the saddle. Taine, Aelwen and the mysterious Kaldath had the best of the Phaerie mounts including, in Aelwen’s case, an enormous flame-red chestnut stallion that had belonged to Nychan. Corisand, who had changed back into her equine form, had the Fialan fastened securely around her neck once more, in a makeshift bag fashioned from fabric torn from the tail of Aelwen’s shirt, and a length of spare thong from one of the packs. They had decided to head back to Eliorand in the straightest line possible and as fast as they could. Though there was little hope that they could catch the Wizard before she reached the city, they were determined to try.
Taine raised an arm. ‘Let’s go,’ he cried, and urging their horses forward, they bounded into the air, and headed north in search of Iriana.
21
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RETRIBUTION<
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Iriana’s stomach lurched as she swung giddily in the air, and the meshes of the net bit into her skin. Her head throbbed, and she felt sick and sore all over. She had no idea what had become of her friends, or of Melik, her eyes. Had they survived? The odds had not looked good when she’d been taken. For certain, they could do nothing to come to her aid.
She was alone, blind, helpless. Terrified.
This was exactly what Sharalind and Zybina had been trying to protect her from all her life. The nightmare. The disaster that could happen if she lost all the animals who let her utilise their gift of sight. But if she could only survive to see her foster mother and Sharalind again, she could put up with having them say ‘I told you so.’ Iriana knew better than to give up, however. She had been in a similar position when the Phaerie assassin had attacked in the forest, and she had found a way to survive then.
She would now.
She wracked her brains for a way to escape her predicament, but all she had were questions.
How long had she been unconscious?
They were probably taking her to Eliorand, but how long would it take to get there?
Had the others been taken captive too – or were they dead?
No, she would not think of that. She had to believe her friends were still alive, that they had managed to escape somehow. That was the only way she could hold on to her own hope.
How many of her captors were carrying the net? Dael had told her of his own capture during the Wild Hunt, and she suspected that the scenario would be similar, with four of the Phaerie, on their flying steeds, carrying the net aloft. Were the others with them? It seemed very quiet, with few noises of harnesses creaking and horses breathing. She could not be sure, but she suspected that the rest of the enemy were elsewhere.
