by Maggie Furey
‘What?’ Hellorin roared. ‘You never told me that!’
The Moldan shrugged. ‘I didn’t tell you a lot of things, nor am I under any compulsion to do so. Be grateful I’m helping you at all. Now calm yourself, Phaerie Lord, and pay attention to what is happening in your world. If you miss the crucial moment, it will not come again.’
Scowling, Hellorin turned back towards the gleaming ice patch that was the window into his realm. He glanced at it then dropped to his knees to look closer, cursing horribly when he saw Tiolani being cornered in the palace courtyard by a horde of hostile Dwelven spirits and herded over to— ‘Aelwen!’ he roared, as if the Horsemistress could hear him. ‘Help my child – she is your own flesh and blood. How can you ally yourself with these foul, accursed traitors?’
But it seemed as if Aelwen had done exactly that. Hellorin watched with horror, spitting out oaths as his daughter was browbeaten into releasing the Dwelven spirits. As soon as the last of them had vanished, Aerillia called out, ‘Use the window as a portal. Do it now!’
The Forest Lord steeled himself to make the leap – and saw a sight in the mirror that filled his heart with such horror, grief and rage, he thought that it would burst.
‘Nooooo!’ he howled – and leapt.
Aerillia smiled to herself once more. In mindspeech, she sought her fellow Moldai and the Evanesar; Denali, Taku and Aurora. ‘So far, the plan is working,’ she told them. ‘All this wretched time I’ve spent concealing my true feelings and persuading Hellorin to trust me finally has a chance of bearing fruit. Now, everything will be up to your friends from the mundane realm – and the powers we placed in the Fialan.’
29
~
THE MIGHTY FALL
Now that their objectives had been achieved, Taine knew it was imperative to get away from Eliorand as quickly as possible. A sidelong glance saw Aelwen already mounted. She reached for Asharal’s reins to take him with her, for she knew that Corisand would hate for even one of her people to be left behind, but Tiolani shrieked a protest. ‘Leave him alone, you bitch. He’s mine!’ She ran forward, grabbing Asharal’s bridle and trying to pull the horse away. Suddenly there was a dagger in her hand. Taine turned to help Aelwen – but there was a blur of motion to his right, as Cyran hurled himself forward. A terrible scream ripped the night apart – and there was the Archwizard, kneeling over Tiolani’s body, his hands still locked around the hilt of the long Phaerie knife that he had twisted out of her hand and plunged into her heart.
Then from out of the palace came an earth-shattering howl of grief, of rage, of pain. The roof of the massive building burst apart in a hail of splintered wood and shattered tiles. There stood Hellorin, grown to titanic proportions, blotting out the stars. ‘Fiend!’ he roared. ‘Murderer! My daughter, my only child, dead at your hands! You will pay for this with your life, Cyran. Before I have finished with you, you will be begging for death.’
‘You dare talk of murderers,’ the Archwizard screamed back at him. ‘The Phaerie have slain my son.’
‘Damn it, I told him Avithan wasn’t really dead,’ Taine muttered, but the situation had already gone far beyond an attempt to reason with either ruler. Quick as thought, he leapt into his saddle, snatching at the reins of Kaldath’s mount as he did so.
‘You will suffer every torment I can conceive,’ Cyran was still screaming at Hellorin. ‘Before I am finished, you will be the one who begs for death – and then I will wipe the rest of your stinking race from the face of the earth!’
To Taine’s utter horror, the Archwizard was also expanding, growing in form into a behemoth to rival the gigantic Hellorin, and hurling curses and epithets at the Forest Lord. Their attention was fixed upon each other.
‘Come on,’ Aelwen urged, and Taine turned his horse and took off, following her into the air as fast as the pair of them could go. Together they sped into the night with Asharal and Kaldath’s mount behind them, following the fleeing Xandim.
Save yourself. Get Aelwen away to safety.
Every fibre of common sense, every shred of self-preservation, every instinct of survival, screamed at Taine to escape while the two raging behemoths were distracted. They were certain to fight now; they were committed by rage and grief to destroy one another, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Yet his loyalty and sense of responsibility kept nagging at him, urging him to go back. Hellorin had exiled him and sought his death, while the Archwizard had given him a refuge and a purpose. Surely he owed it to Cyran to at least try to help him.
Reluctantly, ignoring Aelwen’s cry of horror, Taine thrust the reins of Kaldath’s horse into her hand, then turned and began to loop back towards Eliorand. ‘Keep going,’ he called to her. ‘Don’t stop for anything. I’ll be following you – I promise.’
‘Taine, no . . .’
Determinedly he blocked out Aelwen’s desperate calls, and sped back towards the Phaerie city. The protagonists were so huge that even from a distance he could see the battle taking place, as spells sizzled and exploded between the pair of titans. Cyran, his shield glittering around him like a diamond, was using the Earth magic that was his birthright: the earth shook and jolted with earthquakes, and great cracks opened up beneath Hellorin’s feet, making him dodge and leap to keep his footing. In some ways his powers were similar to the Old Magic, the powers of chaos, that the Phaerie used. Hellorin, whose own shield was a misty-grey nimbus that half-concealed his movements, was using this magic now. Earthquakes, strangling vines that sprung out of the ground and petrifaction spells were at his disposal – but he was far less limited than Cyran. He could also command the elemental forces that spawned tornadoes and tempests, lightning, hail and floods.
The two terrible rulers were locked in deadly combat: spell after spell was launched, only to reflect off the other’s shielding and recoil back to strike randomly throughout the city. The palace was already a pile of smoking ruins. Many of the Phaerie who had survived the attack of the Dwelven had been struck down by the indiscriminate magic, while the rest had fled screaming into the night.
Even as he approached the outskirts of the forest, Taine knew that he could do nothing. This conflict had already escalated far beyond his own capacity to intervene. The battle was so fierce, the magic so powerful, that already the fabric of reality was beginning to weaken in the vicinity of the combatants. Eliorand seemed to be fading in and out, its buildings wavering as if Taine was viewing them through a shimmering heat haze. And the circle of unreality was spreading. Taine’s stomach contracted into a ball of ice as he realised that he was directly in its path.
He’d been a fool to come back! With a wrench he turned his mount to flee – but one of Hellorin’s massive hailstones smashed into his shoulder and knocked him from the saddle, his horse thrown off balance by the vicious gale. He fell, twisting and turning in midair and crashed into the topmost branches of a pine. The springy boughs caught him and broke his fall, but he struck his head and his vision exploded into flashing lights, while warm blood from a cut on his scalp poured down over his face. He landed face down across a thick branch, knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping. There was an agonising catch every time he tried to breathe that was the sure sign of a broken rib or two. He could do nothing for the moment but lie there, fighting for breath while trying to shake the stunned confusion from his thoughts, and praying desperately that he could escape in time, before the shimmering circle of unreality reached him.
Aelwen, riding harder than she had ever ridden in her life, was closing rapidly on the fleeing Xandim. As she reached the head of the column, Iriana said, ‘Where’s Taine?’
‘Hellorin is fighting the Archwizard. Taine stayed behind, and—’
‘Hellorin’s back?’ Corisand laid her ears back flat. Though that was the only way she could show her horror in her equine form, they could all hear it clearly in her mental voice.
‘Cyran killed Tiolani.’ Until that moment, Aelwen hadn’t realised that tears we
re pouring down her face for her sister’s poor lost daughter. ‘Hellorin just burst out of the palace. He was gigantic, and was raging like a madman. Then Cyran grew in turn . . . We started to flee, but then Taine went back to help the Archwizard.’
‘The fool!’
‘The idiot!’
Corisand and Iriana both spoke together – and at that moment, they all felt Taine’s pain and fear as he fell. It was only a faint echo at this distance, but enough to tell them that he was in serious trouble.
‘Quick,’ Iriana cried. ‘We’ve got to go back and help him.’
‘I’ll go.’ Aelwen, sick with guilt that she had left him, had let the two mounts that she was leading loose to follow the other Xandim, and was already turning her horse.
‘Wait, you can’t,’ Corisand shouted. ‘If Hellorin is on the rampage, it’ll take the Fialan to help Taine now.’ Automatically she began to turn back, but found the column of Xandim faithfully following her.
‘Stop, Corisand,’ Iriana said urgently. ‘Get your tribe to safety – they’ll only follow you. I’ll take the Fialan, if you can keep up the flying spell without it for a while.’
‘But you can’t go alone,’ Corisand protested. ‘It took both of us to deal with Hellorin in the Elsewhere. Besides, you need my vision.’
‘I’ll go with you, Iriana.’ Dael’s voice was shaky but determined. ‘I’ll be your eyes.’
Iriana gave him a grateful smile. She knew how hard this was for him, how much of his courage it had taken. She turned to the Horsemistress. ‘Aelwen, if you—’ But Aelwen was gone. She had used their moment of distraction to slip away from them, and was heading back towards Eliorand as fast as she could go. Iriana spat out a rancid curse that she had learned from Esmon. ‘Come on, quick – I’d better get back there before we have two of them in trouble, instead of just one.’
‘It’s madness, risking the Fialan like this,’ Corisand said as they landed to transfer Melik’s basket to her back, while Iriana took a horse that had belonged to one of Cordain’s warriors, and was still saddled and bridled. ‘We have no choice,’ the Wizard said. ‘We can’t let him run amok in this world again. Hopefully he’ll be weakened enough by his battle with Cyran to let me send him back.’
‘We’d better hope so.’ Not without a dreadful wrench, Corisand let Iriana lift the Fialan’s pouch from around her strong, arching grey neck, and hang it round her own. As soon as it made contact with the Wizard, she was flooded with the Stone’s vibrant energy, so strong that she felt as if she might be unable to contain it all, but might explode at any second. Quickly she mounted, and she and Dael took off, leaping into the sky.
‘Be careful,’ Corisand called after her.
‘I will. I’m counting on Hellorin being preoccupied with Cyran. You get your people out of there.’
‘Just remember that where the Forest Lord is concerned, it doesn’t pay to count on anything.’
Though Iriana knew her friend was right, she couldn’t let that stop her. Keeping close to Dael, she sped back towards Eliorand as fast as she could go. It felt strange using human sight again, instead of equine or feline vision. Iriana felt a little uneasy, not being able to see what was happening around and behind her, but she told herself firmly that in the present circumstances she’d be better off focusing on what lay directly in front of her. Like Taine, she heard the sounds of the battle, the sizzles and crashes and loud detonations of the spells, long before she reached the city, and saw the jagged flashes of lightning flare across the seething sky, but it was only when she neared the outskirts of Eliorand that the full horror of the conflict came home to her.
Iriana looked on aghast, her hands growing slippery with sweat on her horse’s reins, at the rippling circle that denoted the weakening of the fabric of reality which spread out from the warring behemoths that were the Archwizard and the Forest Lord. Hellorin looked to be getting the best of the fight; he was still glowing with the energy and unearthly vigour that had come from spending so much time in the Elsewhere. Cyran was retaliating with everything at his disposal, but sweat was running down his face, and there was a weary sag to his shoulders. Nevertheless he kept on fighting, replying to every attack from the Forest Lord, and giving back as good as he got. The battle was becoming more and more frenetic – and every time they smote each other with another spell, battering away at one another’s shields, the rip in the fabric of reality spread wider.
This had to be stopped.
To her frustration, Dael’s eyes suddenly swung away from the duel and began to scan the treetops on the edge of the forest, where a lone horse, its reins entangled in the branches of a tree, was struggling and flailing in its attempts to free itself. ‘Dael,’ she said sharply, ‘keep your eyes on Hellorin and Cyran.’
‘But Taine – didn’t we come to save him? He must be down there, close to where his horse is.’
‘We can’t spare the time for Taine.’ It wrenched Iriana’s heart to say it, but there could be no question of her priorities. ‘Hopefully, Aelwen will be able to help him. We’ve got to stop Cyran and Hellorin, before those two idiots destroy the world.’
She felt the split-second hesitation while Dael caught and held fast to his courage, then he brought his horse so close to hers that they were almost touching. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘What do we do?’
‘First I’m going to use a spell to take a firm control of the minds of our horses, and make them utterly oblivious to what’s going on here, otherwise they’ll never be able to stand being so close to all this magic.’ Iriana cast the enchantment even as she spoke, and felt the trembling animal grow calm beneath her. ‘I want to stay mounted so that we can be mobile, but—’
Then it happened. Suddenly Hellorin found a chink in the defences of the tiring Archwizard. Like a hammer blow his magic smashed through, and Cyran reeled, then came crashing down like a mighty tree, transfixed through his heart by a gigantic spear of ice. Even as he fell, he shrank to normal size, and before he hit the ground, he breathed no more.
The agony of the Archwizard’s death, intensified by its closeness to Iriana, almost sent her toppling from the saddle. She doubled over, her head swimming, her every nerve jangling from the shock of such intense pain – then Dael’s hand grasped her arm, giving her an anchor point to cling to as she mastered the torment and pulled herself back under control.
‘Die, Cyran,’ Hellorin howled in triumph. ‘Die as your Wizardfolk will die, crushed like insects by the might of the Phaerie.’
Then he turned, and his eye fell on Iriana.
‘You!’ he roared. ‘And with no Windeye friend to help you this time. Prepare to meet your fate, Wizard filth. Nothing can save you now.’
The Wizard took a deep breath and got her turmoil of emotions – the grief and anger at Cyran’s death, her dread at the damage Hellorin was causing to the area around him and her fear of the half-crazed Forest Lord – under control. Suddenly calm, she dipped into the leather pouch round her neck and took out the Fialan, holding the glowing green stone aloft. ‘Not even this?’
Her words were a challenge flung into Hellorin’s teeth, and in her hand the Stone of Fate flared with fierce, blinding brilliance, as if recognising its old enemy. She saw the Phaerie Lord flinch, saw the flicker of dread and doubt in his eyes – then he mastered himself. Through Dael’s eyes, Iriana saw the slight straightening of his stance, saw his eyes and mouth harden in determination – and so was ready when a split second later a great bolt of utter blackness came hurtling at her.
At her command, the Fialan in her hand flared even brighter, surrounding the Wizard and Dael with a sphere of emerald radiance. The dark missile splattered against this shield and burst into a thousand jagged black shards. As it hit, Dael flinched and looked away.
‘Keep your eyes on him!’ Iriana snapped.
Dael straightened in his saddle, looking abashed, and in gentler tones the Wizard added, ‘You’ve got to trust me, Dael. I can protect us – but only if I can see
him.’
The Forest Lord, however, was looking at the mortal through narrowed eyes. With a chill, Iriana realised that she had given away her one point of weakness. It was imperative that she act before he did.
Quickly, she strengthened the shield around her friend then, without waiting for Hellorin to strike again, she hurled a streak of dazzling white light – the first spell she contacted in the Fialan’s memory – at him. As it hit his shield it turned into a gigantic, ice-white serpent that wrapped itself around him, tightening its coils around his shimmering silver shield with increasing pressure. Its vivid cyan-blue eyes glinted dangerously, and its great fangs, each longer than Iriana was tall, glittered like diamonds with the Cold magic of the glacial Taku as they scraped against Hellorin’s silvery magical barrier, seeking a weak point.
Iriana’s heart leapt to feel that the powers of her dearest friend among the Evanesar were on her side. The serpent’s coils tightened still further, and Hellorin began to shiver, trying to cringe away from the searing, deathly chill that the Cold magic wrought. Iriana smiled a grim little smile to herself. The magic of the Wizardfolk was one thing, but the powers of the Evanesar were something that Hellorin would never have expected to meet. Then she noticed something that wiped that smile from her face. Because of her spell, the flickering circle of unreality around Eliorand had expanded a little further, and she realised to her dismay that every time she used her powers, the destruction to the fabric of space and time would be increased.
She had to finish this quickly, before the instability spread too far and too fast to be contained – but there was no more time for thinking. Hellorin suddenly turned into a tornado of wildfire, a spinning column of flame that melted Iriana’s serpent into a hissing cloud of steam. Two long tentacles of fire snaked out to snatch at the Wizard and her companion and drag them from their saddles.
