by Maggie Furey
Suddenly, it dawned on her that the Phaerie were flying, and that could only mean one thing. Iriana bit back a curse. Tiolani had turned out to be a traitor after all.
Iriana knew her only hope was to think hard and act fast. Very well, then, her first priority must be sight. If she could only see, she might stand a chance of defending herself, and if, better still, she could manage to gain control over one or more of the beasts, she might even cause enough chaos to drive her captors out of the sky; for until she reached the ground, she would be helpless.
Though it was hard to concentrate between her anger at Tiolani, her fear of what the Phaerie would do to her, her aching head and the nauseating swing and sway of the net, she began to extend her consciousness outward then still further out, trying to make contact with the minds of the Phaerie flying steeds. As she encountered their thoughts, she had a sense that there were four of them, flying in a diamond-shaped formation, with one in the lead, one on either side and one behind.
Initially, Iriana tried to impose her will upon the mind of the leading horse, but it proved very resistant to such outside influence, plunging in the air and shaking its head furiously, as if trying to dislodge the unwelcome intruder. The rider cursed, tightening the reins cruelly, and Iriana hastily switched to the animal on her left-hand side.
Ah, this was better; a mare, more gentle and amenable than her initial choice. Having gained a foothold, the Wizard waited a little, letting the horse get used to her presence, then gently took control of its vision. Oh, what relief to be able to see again – though her heart sank at what she saw. Though Eliorand was not yet in sight, the northern mountains had grown a great deal closer, and the snow-capped peaks now dominated the sky.
It was high time she acted.
Holding tightly to the meshes of the net, Iriana took a firm grip with her mind on the mare’s consciousness. She wanted to keep her vision steady in what was to come. Controlling a horse was entirely different from influencing a cat, a dog or a bird of prey, all of which were predators. It was much easier, however, to plant a suggestion that was completely in tune with an animal’s nature. Horses were prey animals, their key motivation was fear. Because the equine spent its entire life primed to run, to escape, it was a simple matter for the Wizard to trigger panic in the leading mount’s mind.
Danger! Run! Flee!
The net gave a lurch and started swinging as the horse tried to bolt. The animal continued to plunge and shake its head wildly, desperate to get away from the fear with which Iriana had infected it, but with a great effort, the rider wrenched it back under control and kept it in position.
At that point, the Wizard realised, with a sinking heart, that it was no good. She couldn’t control the mare she was using for vision as well as the leading mount whose mind she was filling with fear. She would never manage to subvert all four animals at once – at least, not enough to overcome the riders’ control. Though she frantically tried to think of another plan, terror and panic clouded her racing thoughts, and she could discover no way out. Through the horse’s eyes she could see that the mountains were drawing nearer. She had very little time left in which to act, for once they had her in Eliorand, with no animals around that she could use for vision, escape would be impossible. Though she knew that there could not be any friends within range of her call, she sent out a cry for aid in mindspeech, hurling the thought out as far as she could into the void.
Her captors laughed, cruelly. ‘That’s right, little Wizard, cry for help,’ one jeered.
‘And much good may it do you,’ laughed another. ‘I should save my strength if I were you. Once we get you to the city you’ll be—’
His words were cut off by a scream, wild, savage and shrill, from above. The shadow of mighty wings obscured the sun as a sleek, dark shape came plummeting out of the void, striking with wicked talons at the face of Iriana’s tormentor. The Phaerie shrieked and let go of his reins, clutching at his eyes as blood spurted out from between his fingers. Suddenly, a new source of vision burst into Iriana’s mind, and she was viewing the scene through wonderfully familiar eyes.
Boreas had not forgotten her.
Iriana’s heart soared with joy and hope as the great eagle wheeled upward and stooped again, hitting the blinded rider hard and almost knocking him out of the saddle. Then another shrill cry cut through the air; another deadly winged shape came hurtling down. The eagle had brought his mate and both birds were working together, swooping at Iriana’s captors and trying to drive them out of the sky.
Cries of anger and dismay came from the Phaerie. Two were wildly firing spells at the eagles while the third tried to draw a bow and steady his panicked mount at the same time. The fourth, blinded, was crouching low over his horse’s neck, the blood still streaming from his face. He had given up all attempts at controlling the animal. It was fighting desperately to free itself from the net which was tethering it to the other three beasts, all of which were rearing and plunging wildly, pulling this way and that, terrified of the attacking birds.
Iriana was now in very real danger of being tossed out of the pitching net. She clung to the meshes with all her strength and swore at the Phaerie with every curse she could think of. Why didn’t the stupid fools land, instead of trying to carry on an aerial battle with foes too fast and too fierce for them? The female eagle struck the Phaerie marksman from the side, knocking the bow from his hand then swooping away to avoid the spells being fired at her by his two companions. She then joined Boreas, who kept circling then darting in at the riders, using his beak and talons to devastating effect. Already their clothes were in tatters and blood was flowing from their backs and shoulders.
At last the Phaerie capitulated. ‘Head down,’ their leader yelled. ‘We’ll get a better shot at them from the ground.’ The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Boreas struck him from behind. He lurched, lost a stirrup and hung over one side of his mount’s neck, clinging desperately to keep from falling – until the female eagle, following her mate, struck him again. With a wail he fell, vanishing into the trees below, where his cry was suddenly cut short. Now the situation was perilous indeed, with the net swinging between four uncontrolled horses that were maddened with terror, and three mounted Phaerie who struggled desperately, with only two of them able to defend themselves and keep control of the situation. Fortunately, when they urged their mounts towards the ground, the animals were desperate to comply.
They hurtled down into the trees at a perilously steep angle and breakneck speed. Iriana curled up in the net, protecting her head. Using all her power, she wrought a shield around herself – and only just in time. Branches splintered as the net smashed into them and despite her shield Iriana was banged around until, bruised and dizzy, she hit the ground, with churning hooves and splattering mud all around her.
As the eagles followed her down, she found that her vision was no longer hampered by the trees. The blinded rider had apparently been knocked from the saddle during the descent and was nowhere to be seen, but there were still two others to contend with, so there was no time to lose. She was still tangled in the net; she needed to buy herself enough time to get herself free. ‘Get the birds,’ one of the Phaerie shouted, and she realised with a chill that now the enemy were on the ground, Boreas and his mate were sitting targets.
In a single flash of Fire magic she burned through the meshes of the net, then, scarcely taking time for a breath, she began to pelt her enemies with the last thing they would expect from a Wizard’s Earth magic: a fusillade of fireballs that would stick to clothing and sear into flesh, while Boreas and his mate continued their onslaught from above. One of the Phaerie dodged behind her, out of the line of fire, but she hit the other with one of her flaming missiles. He fled into the trees screaming, his clothes and hair on fire, then suddenly the screams ceased and an ominous silence fell.
It was Boreas’s eyesight that saved Iriana. Her own instinct would have been to look in the direction the Phaerie had fled, but th
e eagle’s perspective from above took in the whole area, and in a flash of horror she saw the last foe charge her from behind, sword upraised. Even as she spun he was almost on top of her. Instinctively she hurled a fireball, catching him squarely in the middle of the chest. He reeled back, but his sword struck her on the shoulder, slicing a deep, slanting cut into the top of her arm. Though his clothes were on fire and he must have been in agony, he drew a dagger from his belt and came at her again. Sick and dizzy with pain, blood spurting from her arm, Iriana switched to her other hand and launched another ball of searing flame straight into his face. With a shriek he staggered forwards, his hair on fire and his face obscured by flame, and she leapt back from his flailing arms, sickened by the agony and torment she had wrought. He dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to douse the flames, but it was too late. His thrashing subsided and he went limp, his features a blackened ruin glimpsed through a barrier of fire.
The dreadful stench of burning flesh filled the air. Almost too late, the Wizard realised that she was in danger of setting the entire forest ablaze, and immolating herself in the process. Frantically, she doused her flames, using Air magic to deprive the fire of the vital air it needed in order to burn. The fire died away, leaving only the revolting stink of burned flesh drifting through the trees. Swamped by exhaustion, Iriana sank to the ground, weak and dizzy. She knew she should act quickly to staunch the blood that was pulsing from her arm, but right now she simply lacked the strength . . .
I’ll just rest here for a minute or two. Then I’ll deal with it.
Guarded by the eagles, she lay down on the carpet of moss and leaves, her life blood pumping out onto the forest floor. Though a voice somewhere at the back of her mind seemed to be protesting, her thoughts were too hazy and confused to heed the warning. Her mind began to wander over the recent events. Today felt different to the terrible night when Esmon and Avithan had been lost, and she had driven her horse to trample and kill the Phaerie assassin. This time she had been attacked by enemies, and had done what she needed to survive.
A vision of Esmon came into her mind. It was just as if he was standing before her, real and solid, and he was smiling at her with approval. ‘You did extremely well today, girl,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you were listening to all the lessons I tried to teach you when we were travelling, and I’m proud of you.’ He held out a hand. ‘I think you deserve to rest now, Iriana. Come with me, and I’ll take you where nothing will harm you, ever again.’
The forest seemed to have faded around her, leaving only the figure of the warrior Wizard in the midst of a grey haze.
I’d like to rest for a while.
She took his hand, and suddenly they seemed to be floating, flying, as the world was left behind.
The remaining companions were speeding through the sky with Corisand, riderless this time, in the lead, Dael riding the familiar Rosina again, and Aelwen, Taine and Kaldath mounted on Phaerie steeds whose former owners were now dead. Though Corisand was controlling the flying spell, she had to push to keep up with the other horses, who were stretching out at full speed, desperate to escape the sinister presence of the Dwelven ghosts who swarmed through the air, following Kaldath in a shadowy swarm that roiled like smoke.
‘How can we ever hope to find Iriana?’ Dael looked around at all the endless miles of empty sky through which they sped. ‘I can’t bear to think how she must be feeling right now. Without Melik she’s blind and helpless – it must be terrifying for her.’
‘We go north,’ Corisand replied grimly. ‘We head back to Eliorand by the straightest and fastest route. That’s what the Phaerie will have done. We keep looking around, ahead, to either side. The sky is clear; there’s no cloud cover for them to hide behind. Sooner or later we’ll see them. We’ll find them. We’ll find Iriana. We won’t rest until we do.’
‘At the rate we’re moving we stand every chance of catching up with them,’ Aelwen added. ‘You’re all right, Corisand, but Rosina and these other horses are terrified of the Dwelven spirits that follow us.’
At the mention of the ghosts, Dael shuddered as a chill ran down his spine. The horrifying memory of the way they had ripped the Phaerie apart in the cave was branded into his mind. Though they had saved his life, and for that he owed them his gratitude, it was still hard not to fear them. He kept his eyes fixed resolutely forward, not wanting to look back at the sinister followers that crowded on his heels. ‘I don’t blame the horses.’ He stroked Rosina’s sweat-damp neck. ‘I’m not very keen on those – things – myself.’
‘The Dwelven are not things, Dael,’ Kaldath rebuked him gently. ‘Once they were people just like you and me. They may have looked very different, it’s true, but they were people nonetheless. They loved and worked, they laughed and cried and danced and feared.’ He looked back at the Dwelven spirits, his face creased with the memory of ancient pain. ‘They strove for freedom, just like you, and they bled and died. They are as much Hellorin’s victims as you are – and now, at long last, they will have their revenge.’
Dael thought about that for a moment, then took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, Kaldath. It’s easy to be afraid of them because, well, they’re ghosts, and we’ve seen how dangerous they can be, but also because they look so very different from the way we do. Yet from what you say, they are just as much victims as any of us, and if they can help us strike back at those accursed Phaerie, I welcome them with open arms.’
Kaldath smiled, that gentle, wise smile. ‘In a way, Dael, you should understand them better than anyone else, for they were slaves as you were a slave. Unlike you, however, it took death to give them their freedom and power. You accomplished that while you were still alive.’
‘This is all very well,’ Corisand interrupted, her voice terse with impatience, ‘but what about Iriana?’ She was less sure of this strange alliance with Kaldath and his horde of spirits than the others seemed to be. Her people had also been enslaved by the Phaerie, but she felt no kinship with the Dwelven. Horses had always been able to see and sense ghosts much more easily than humans did, but that didn’t mean she had to like them – or trust them.
‘I’m not sure that what Dael said about Iriana being helpless is true,’ Taine said. ‘She’ll be afraid of course – she’d be a fool if she wasn’t – but in the short time I knew her, she struck me as a real fighter. I will never forget that first night I met her, when she’d been attacked by the Phaerie assassin, and had lost almost all her companions, both human and animal. She was blind and terrified then too, but she had the grit and courage to fight back, and against all odds she won. She was worn out, beaten up and grieving, but from somewhere she still found the strength and generosity to heal me after I’d been mauled by that bear. Today she can use the steeds of our enemy for vision, and if there’s any way in which she can strike at the Phaerie you can guarantee she’ll find it. We shouldn’t discount that.’
‘You’re right, Taine,’ Corisand said. ‘You should have seen her when we went to the Elsewhere to find the Fialan. We met with some very strange and dangerous situations, but Iriana was adaptive, inventive and brave, and she always found a way to get us through. I remember this one time, when she got me to fashion a boat out of air. Well, I had never even heard of boats, let alone seen one, but Iriana . . .’
As Aelwen listened to them praising this foreign Wizard, this traditional enemy of her people, she felt unease prickling though her once again. She barely knew Iriana; there had been so little time when they were briefly together at Athina’s tower, and everyone had been preoccupied with so many things. When she’d been reunited with Taine he had already met the Wizard – had spent a night with her – and the two of them had clearly developed a bond of affection. Though she’d told herself over and over that it was nothing, that she was being stupid, she couldn’t help feeling a nasty little nip of jealousy. Now, hearing Taine and Corisand praising Iriana to the skies, she couldn’t help but feel a little left out.
Though she was beco
ming increasingly fond of Kaldath, he had walked hand in hand with death for too many years to be a truly comfortable companion. And she couldn’t see why Iriana and Corisand made so much fuss of Dael. As for Corisand, Aelwen was dreadfully unhappy with these revelations about the true identity of Xandim. She loved the amazing Phaerie steeds, had built her life around caring for them. Much as Hellorin looked upon himself as their owner, in her heart she had always felt they were hers. Now they belonged to her no longer. They weren’t even horses – and the idea of people trapped inside them made her desperately uncomfortable. She didn’t want to lose them, it would be like losing part of herself, yet if she betrayed Corisand and somehow found a way to prevent her from freeing her tribe, that would make her a slavemaster, no better than Hellorin himself. Riding had been as natural to Aelwen as breathing, yet now, riding this borrowed Phaerie mount, she felt herself second-guessing her every move. Worse still, the horse sensed her uncertainty, and was playing her up in a way that she would never normally have allowed, and she hesitated to restrain it, knowing what she knew.
Right now Aelwen was feeling lonely, and very much adrift. She had loved her old life in Eliorand: her horses, her stables, her grooms and all the little details of her daily, yearly routines. Now it was all in tatters. She missed Kelon, always by her side, always sturdy and steady, predictable, dependable and utterly loyal. She looked across at Taine, still deep in conversation with Corisand, and felt a stir of unease.
Had she been wrong? It was the first time she had admitted her doubts to herself, but once she had let them emerge, they would not subside. Had she acted too rashly? Made a mistake in leaving, in running away from the security and contentment of her position as Hellorin’s Mistress of Horse? Had she failed in her responsibility to Tiolani, her sister’s daughter? Shouldn’t she have stayed, have kept her mouth shut, maintained her position and done everything in her power to steer Hellorin’s headstrong child to a more temperate, reasonable course? Had she thrown it all away in pursuit of a memory, a dream, a stranger who was no longer her love from years ago?
