by Maggie Furey
‘I hope you’re right,’ Taine said doubtfully.
‘We all hope she’s right – just as Corisand and I hope that we can handle Tiolani and her warriors, and free the Xandim while you’re providing the distraction in Eliorand,’ Iriana said. ‘Our entire plan is balanced on a knife-edge, but it’s the only one we’ve got. We’re an awfully small army to free one race from the clutches of another, but we do have a number of things going in our favour, and all we can do is try.’
‘Our original plan didn’t count Tiolani and her forces in the barn. What if the two of you might need a little extra help?’ Taine asked.
‘If we do, we’ll be sure and let you know,’ Iriana said wryly. ‘Now, are you ready, Corisand?’
‘I’m ready.’ Switching back to her equine shape and drawing on the power of the Fialan that still hung round her neck, the Windeye renewed the flying spell over herself and the mounts of her companions. As Taine gave Iriana a leg-up onto her back, she was happy to feel the Wizard’s slight weight. It wouldn’t hamper her, and now that they had come so far and her goal was almost within her grasp, it felt reassuring to know she had a friend so close to her who shared her hopes and concerns, and would give considerable help in the battle to come. In a quick flash of recollection it came back to her how lonely she’d been when she first became the shaman of the Xandim; how isolated and weighed down by a colossal burden of responsibility that had been hers and hers alone.
Well, she wasn’t alone any more.
In the faint light of a new moon she looked at gratefully at her companions. Kaldath’s wise, lined old face that still held an echo of how handsome he must have been in his youth; Taine, looking grim and businesslike as he tested his bowstring; Aelwen, by his side as always, her mouth set in a purposeful line, but her eyes shadowy and troubled; Dael, hanging back out of harm’s way, ready to duck into a hiding place among the bushes as he had been instructed, his task to stay out of danger and to keep Melik safe in his basket while the others joined battle, for Iriana would be sharing Corisand’s vision during the fight. Though the Windeye couldn’t see Iriana, she could feel the Wizard on her back, closest of all, linked by touch and thought and a bond of friendship that would never break.
‘Be sure and hold on tightly once the fighting starts,’ Corisand warned her. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’
‘I will, don’t worry,’ the Wizard reassured her, gripping tighter with her knees and twining her left hand more tightly in Corisand’s long mane. ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’
‘Not a bit,’ the Windeye assured her, then took a deep breath. There could be no putting it off any longer. ‘All right – get your shield in place.’
The air thickened and tingled with magic as Iriana complied, surrounding them both in a shimmering globe of unyielding air. Though her Air magic differed from Corisand’s own powers, she had been learning a trick or two from watching the Windeye at work, and the shield was the best she had ever conjured.
Corisand turned her concentration on the Fialan that hung around her neck, throbbing like a living heart, its power glowing through the leather pouch in which it was encased. She accessed her Othersight and saw the air moving fluidly around her like strands of silver silk. Since she was in her equine form this time, she was forced to use her mind, rather than her hands, but she manipulated the streaming, shimmering flow while reaching out at the same time to grasp the deep indigo shadows from beneath the trees. Spinning them together with the glistening streams of air, she formed her shadow cloak, as she’d been taught to do in the Elsewhere by the Evanesar, and made it big enough to cover both herself and the Wizard on her back.
When it was in place she heard the murmurs of amazement from the others, who had not seen the phenomenon before.
‘You are still there, aren’t you?’ Taine asked, lightening the moment. ‘You haven’t decided to start without us?’
Corisand reached out with her thoughts to all her friends. ‘No, I haven’t, but I’m about to get going now. Everyone ready?’
They all gave her their affirmation, and she heard the battle-ready edge to Taine’s voice, the hint of unease beneath Aelwen’s, the longing that throbbed in Kaldath’s tones and the fear, disguised beneath bravado, in Dael’s reply. Her heart went out to him. He was the most helpless, the most vulnerable of them all, yet he was ready to stand by his companions and do whatever he could to help. In a way, he was the bravest of them all.
‘And I’m ready too – but you already know that.’ Iriana’s mental tones broke into the Windeye’s thoughts. ‘Come on, Corisand, we’re all in place, so hurry up and give the word, and let’s get on with this. Your people have waited long enough. It’s time they were free.’
‘Then go!’
Before Aelwen, Taine and Kaldath had time to apport, the eager Windeye bore Iriana out of the trees and sped towards the stable complex.
For the second night in a row Tiolani, mounted on Asharal and desperate to see what was happening outside, fidgeted in the stuffy barn with warriors and their steeds crowded all around her. Only the faint glimmer of the flying spell that covered all of them lit the darkness and the only sound was quiet breathing and the occasional snort or fidget from a horse. She was beginning to wish that she had not persuaded Cordain that he should be the one lying in ambush with the larger force behind the city walls, and she should be the one who, with a smaller, select band of fighters, should conceal herself close to the massed herd of Xandim.
‘Please reconsider,’ he had urged her. ‘You are the last one capable of performing the flying spell, the only one who can continue Hellorin’s heritage and line. Surely you can see that we must keep you safe? I beg of you, Tiolani, stay in the city with the majority of our warriors. They will be better able to protect you there. I would prefer that you remained securely in the palace, but we may need your powers if there should be an attack. Whatever happened to our warriors back in that cave strikes fear into my heart. What could possibly have inflicted such terrible damage?’
The second squadron of warriors that they had sent to the cave had come back, deeply shaken, with tidings of the gruesome slaughter of their fellows. Though Cordain and Tiolani had done their best to see that the news went no further, they had been unable to prevent the horrific tales spreading from mouth to mouth, growing more grisly with each telling, until a pall of unease hung over the city.
Tiolani had no idea how her former companions could have wrought such destruction. Could the Wizard or the Windeye have gained additional powers since she had parted from them? It seemed to her that they must have succeeded in bringing back the Fialan from the Elsewhere, and the notion chilled her. How could she defend herself and her people against such formidable arcane forces, yet who would do it if she did not?
Phaerie magic differed from that of the Wizards. Over the centuries, the Wizardfolk had trained all their people intensively, developing and disseminating their magic throughout their race, whereas Hellorin, jealous of his power, had preferred to hold his subjects in a state of dependence, developing and nurturing most of the Phaerie powers within his own family, and encouraging idleness and indolence among the rest of his people. All had powers of glamourie and could perform basic attack and defence spells using nature and the elements, and some could apport, but only the Forest Lord and his heirs could access the major destructive powers of the elements – which meant that only Tiolani, no matter how much her own warriors assisted her, had any chance of battling the wielders of the Fialan.
So here she was, skulking in this barn while the minutes crawled by like years. Only she could defend Hellorin’s steeds (firmly, she closed her mind to any thoughts of them as the enslaved tribe of the Xandim) from theft, therefore she had to be here, for this was where the thieves would strike. Oh, how she had underestimated them! She had considered herself to be in a powerful position, in comparison to her opponents – a small, ill-assorted ragtag group of rebels and dreamers. She had imagined crushing them effortles
sly – how could she not with an army of Phaerie at her back? But that was before she had sent out her finest warriors to ambush her foes in the cave with absolute confidence that she would prevail. Only when her force had failed to return had she started to doubt, and when their remains had been discovered, she had known true fear. Now, ablaze with anger at this threat to her people and their property, chilled with terror that she might fail or even die, all she could do was wait, and see what fate would bring.
Unable to bear any more inaction, she rose up on Asharal to the apex of the sloping roof, where a lookout had been stationed at a small window that let in fresh air, to keep watch over the horses that grazed in the paddocks outside. Peremptorily, Tiolani dismissed him. ‘I will watch for a while.’ She was Hellorin’s heir – how could he refuse?
Oh, but it was wonderful to feel the cool night air on her face, and to see the sky, the stars and the horses grazing peacefully below. How she wished that she could turn back the clock to happier times, before the ambush that had disabled Hellorin and killed her poor brother, when everything had been ordered and happy and safe . . .
They appeared out of nowhere, materialising in midair with a sound like a thunderclap – a grey horse that Tiolani recognised at once as Corisand, with the Wizard Iriana on her back. The time had come at last. Now she must fight, with everything, including her life, at stake.
Despite the protection of the shadow cloak and magic shield, Corisand felt horribly exposed as she positioned herself above the largest paddock full of milling, uneasy Xandim, facing the barn in which she knew Tiolani and her ambushers lurked. The horses, her own enslaved people, fidgeted below her and lifted their heads, sensing the presence of their Windeye, feeling her power, knowing a strange hope that they could neither define nor understand.
Corisand could sense the tension and confusion within the barn as the ambushers were alerted by the disturbance among the gathered horses. Before they had time to become too suspicious she cast the shadow cloak aside, and felt the explosion of shock among the gathered Phaerie. A few arrows clattered off the shield, shot from the high windows of the building, followed by a lightning bolt spell.
‘Stop!’ Corisand cried as loudly in mindspeech as she could. ‘I know you’re in there, Tiolani. I wish to speak with you, and your warriors. You know why I’ve come. Do you really want a battle? Do you want all the bloodshed, the death? Give me the Xandim, Tiolani. Give me my people, and we’ll go.’
‘You do not give orders here,’ Tiolani snarled in reply. ‘You are nothing but an animal, a beast of burden, and you and your people are the possessions of the Phaerie. It’s time you learned your place, Corisand.’
‘An animal?’ Corisand said, in short, dangerous tones. ‘We’ll see, shall we?’ She raised her mental voice. ‘Hearken, all you Phaerie, and I will tell you a secret that your Forest Lord has kept from you for hundreds of years. Those magnificent horses you ride are not mere beasts, but a race of shapeshifters: people who look much like yourselves in their other form.’
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Tiolani shrieked. ‘She’s lying!’
‘Am I?’ Corisand let herself sink to the ground. ‘Get off, quick,’ she whispered to Iriana.
‘Is this wise?’
‘I want the secret to be out. I want all the Phaerie to know.’
Iriana shrugged and dismounted, keeping a hand on Corisand’s withers, ready to spring onto her back again at a moment’s notice.
The Windeye took a deep breath – and changed. Instead of the great grey warhorse, a dark-haired young woman stood there, all clothed in shadows, with the Wizard’s hand still on her shoulder. From within the barn, there came a tumult of voices crying out in shock and amazement.
‘Do you see, Phaerie? Do you see now?’ Corisand cried. ‘These are not true horses that you ride – they are slaves, imprisoned in their equine form by a spell of the Forest Lord. All down these long ages, Hellorin has been lying to his people. These were no lowly mortals like the other slaves, but a tribe of shapeshifters – and that makes them magic users. Do you like the idea that your ruler has lied to you all this time? Can your consciences truly live with the enslavement of an entire civilised race?’
For a moment there was only the uneasy muttering of Phaerie voices, and what sounded like a number of arguments breaking out within the barn, then Tiolani’s voice rose up above the babble. ‘Lies!’ she screeched. ‘You fools, you idiots, don’t you see? It’s all an illusion. That’s a Wizard out there, hiding like a coward behind that shield. All she has is an ordinary horse. All the rest is an illusion. She’s the one behind it all.’
Abruptly, the tone of the voices changed to anger. The barn doors burst open and the Phaerie warriors poured forth, with Tiolani at their head. A storm of arrows came at the Wizard and Windeye, and they were hit by a hurricane of spells. Whirlwinds of soil and stones erupted out of the ground, hurtling upward to strike at them from below, then the sky darkened and hailstones the size of fists came smashing down to shatter on Iriana’s shield, sending the horses in the fields, trapped between the two onslaughts, into a frenzy.
‘Change back, Corisand – quick!’ Iriana yelled. ‘Get us aloft.’
Corisand made the fastest change she had ever done, and Iriana, giving herself a boost with her magic, sprang onto her back. Corisand took off like a rocket with a fusillade of arrows and spells bouncing off Iriana’s shield. Though the Wizard was desperate to retaliate with her own magic, she restrained herself and stood firm, pouring all her energy into the shield, though she knew that her strength could only hold out for so long. Already she could feel the strains upon her power caused by fighting off the alien magic of the Phaerie.
Corisand was calling to the Xandim; rallying them, telling them that if they followed her, she would free them for ever from Phaerie domination. Hearing the Windeye’s call to arms, the steeds of the Phaerie ambushers rebelled against their riders; bucking, plunging and twisting in midair, doing everything they could to rid themselves of their masters. The storm of arrows ceased and the attacking spells faltered, leaving Iriana with a moment’s respite in which to catch her breath.
Then suddenly, to Corisand’s horror, she heard a shout from her right. The second wave of attackers, led by Cordain, rose up from behind the city walls and came charging down upon herself and Iriana, beginning the attack anew.
The Windeye felt the jolt of shock and fear strike through her friend. It echoed her own. ‘Bat turds!’ Iriana swore. ‘Where in perdition are the others with their distraction?’
‘What the bloody blazes do you mean, you can’t do it?’ Taine’s fingers dug into Aelwen’s shoulders hard enough to bruise her, his face distorted with fury.
Aelwen quailed, unable to meet the anger and contempt in his stare. Suddenly, when it came to the sticking point, all the doubts and regrets she’d been harbouring since her escape from Eliorand had come down upon her like an avalanche, paralysing her in an agony of indecision. ‘I – I can’t!’ she cried. ‘I just can’t. When I tried to apport, all that would come into my mind was the Dwelven tearing those warriors apart in the cave. This is my city. These are my people – innocent people who had nothing to do with Hellorin’s wickedness or Tiolani’s machinations, and—’
‘And Corisand and Iriana are our companions,’ Taine shouted at her. ‘They’re committed now. You’ll be killing them if you let them down. What did you think was going to happen? That we’d just walk into Eliorand and ask that bitch Tiolani to let the Xandim go? I don’t want the blood of innocents on my hands either – none of us do – but we have no choice.’
‘The Xandim are innocent too, not to mention all the poor Dwelven that were massacred. What of them?’ Now Kaldath, grim as death, was also shouting at her. And already, from the direction of the stables, the ghastly sounds of battle had been raised.
With a snarl, Taine thrust her away. ‘Come on, Kaldath, we’ll ride. They’ll be too focused on what’s happening in the stables to notice us
now, and Iriana needs that diversion.’ He turned a fulminating glare on Aelwen. ‘You can follow when – or if – you decide whose side you’re on.’
With a bound they took to the air, heading towards the city with the Dwelven streaming out behind them. Aelwen hesitated, biting her lip.
‘The only chance you’ll have of influencing what happens is to go with them.’ Dael emerged from his hiding place in the bushes. ‘This is not the time for doubts. If you don’t make up your mind which side you’re on, you’ll find yourself hated by both. No matter how things might stand between you and Taine, don’t forget that you left Eliorand before you knew he was still alive. Even then, you knew in your heart that what the Phaerie were doing was wrong.’
How could a mere human possibly be so wise? But he was right. With a nod of thanks Aelwen urged her horse skyward. It wasn’t too late to play her part. Even if the others never forgave her hesitation, at least she would do her best to make amends.
Suddenly the Wizard and Windeye were at the epicentre of a vortex of spells and missiles as Hellorin’s Counsellor urged his fighters towards them. The Wild magic of the Phaerie was centred upon the forces of nature at their most extreme. A howling gale tore across the stable complex, buffeting Iriana and Corisand’s shield. More black clouds came boiling across the sky to blot out the stars, and lightning bolts came sizzling through the air to strike Iriana’s magical barrier. Petrifaction spells impacted the shield, seeking the tiniest chink in Iriana’s defences so that they could turn Wizard and Windeye to stone, and still the hail came hammering down. Great ropes of thorny bramble, thicker than a strong man’s arm, erupted out of the ground amid the screaming, terrified Xandim, and reached up to wrap themselves around the field of magical force that enclosed the companions, tightening their grip and trying to pull Corisand and Iriana down.
The Wizard was being battered between her own magic and that of the Phaerie, beaten between the two like a sword blade between a hammer and an anvil. She reeled, knocked forward across Corisand’s neck as a renewed fusillade of spells crashed into her shield.
