by Maggie Furey
Yinze’s heart leapt to see his friend alive. Calling frantically for Kea and her bearers, he swept down to land – and his heart froze to see the stony mask of anguish, rage and grief that had transformed Avithan’s features. He was overwhelmed with pity. To lose both parents so close together, in such violent circumstances! No wonder Avithan looked so desolate. ‘Come on,’ he said, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders. ‘Come with me. You don’t want to go over there, Avithan. You don’t want to see what I’ve seen. Let the memory of your mother stay untarnished, and remember her as she was.’
Only when Avithan allowed himself to be led away without a word of objection did Yinze realise how deeply traumatised he must be. Just then Kea and her bearers arrived. ‘Thank providence you found him,’ she said. ‘Poor man! We’ll take him to the Xandim, and let Taryn take care of him for now. Get Avithan to safety,’ she ordered her bearers, and they took off with the Wizard dangling in his net beneath them.
‘Now,’ Yinze said. ‘If I don’t have him to worry about, I can help Iriana—’
‘Yinze!’ Kea seized his arm, her face twisted in anguish. ‘Please come with me. Iriana said she can manage but I can hear Atka, the Dragon who came with Chathak. She’s desperate and she needs help. Please,’ she begged when he hesitated. ‘Her egg – she says she just laid it. Nobody knows except me.’
Yinze cursed. ‘Hurry then!’ Running his fingers over the strings, he was up and away, following Kea to the building on the northern peninsula that housed the Dragon.
The fishing fleet had all been offloading in Tyrineld port before the Moldan materialised. They were working quickly, anxious to be gone. Though Sharalind’s plans for war with the Phaerie had brought them unexpected prosperity, being in the city made them uneasy now – especially on this trip, when the wharves were buzzing with the news of the Archwizard’s death and the astonishing resurrection of Avithan, and plenty of rumour and speculation regarding both. The Lady Sharalind had assumed her soulmate’s mantle of authority completely now, and was all the more eager to press north to wreak vengeance for her husband’s death, and find her son.
Many mortals had already been conscripted, including the ferals from the forest. The fisherfolk were taking no chances.
The offload was almost complete when the alarm went up. The shimmering mounts of the Wild Hunt had been seen high in the skies, heading straight for the city. It looked as though Hellorin’s daughter Tiolani had stolen the march on Sharalind and brought the fight to the Wizards.
Word passed quickly from ship to ship along the dock. Valior and the other Captains had no intention of waiting around for the outcome of a battle, and the fish left in their holds would be needed for their own people in the days to come. They raised sail, slipped their hawsers and headed out.
They had barely left the dock when the colossal figure of a warped and deformed giant materialised. Even at this distance he was a blood-freezing sight. Brynne, standing close to Valior at the helm, was frozen in horror and dry-mouthed with fear. Suddenly she felt the older man’s hand take hers in a strong, warm, comforting clasp. ‘It’s all right, little mermaid. That thing won’t get us. Let the Wizards deal with it. We’ll head home as fast as we can and spread the alarm. We’ll get everyone who’ll fit onto the bigger boats and make a flotilla of the smaller vessels. By the time anyone, Wizard, Phaerie, or monsters, get round to thinking about us, we’ll be far away.’
Brynne knew enough about the sea by now to realise that it wouldn’t be so easy. The elements were calm at present, but rough weather would mean trouble for the smaller boats, and even the larger vessels if they were overloaded with passengers. But it seemed that there was no alternative. They would have to take the risk. By the time the fishing fleet had cleared the northernmost point with its Academy buildings and the Healers’ complex, and were turning for home, the sounds of screams and suffering, death and destruction, were coming clearly over the water. The hideous monster was bellowing something about a stone, and other giant figures – Wizards, Brynne assumed, who had grown to match the size of the behemoth – had begun to appear, so large that they were easily visible, even at this distance. As she looked back she was seized with a desperate need to escape. It seemed that the Venturer couldn’t move fast enough for her.
When the first Wizard apported onto the deck in a thunderclap of displaced air, she knew her instincts had been right.
Avithan was scarcely aware that he’d been loaded into the net, but gradually the shock of Sharalind’s death was ebbing. He came to his senses with the city walls below him – and there was Iriana, towering tall with that accursed Taine at her side. She and the Windeye were working together to keep the Moldan confined, Corisand with a barrier of solid air and Iriana with a wall of fire. Ghabal had bypassed the Ariel’s Tower headland, as if he realised that there was little more damage he could do there, and they were holding him at bay just before he could reach the northern promontory with the Academy and the Luen of Healers – the last headland before he reached the northern city walls, beyond which Taine and Iriana stood. The trapped monstrosity, howling obscenely, was throwing petrifaction spells, first at one foe then the other, and the Wizard and Windeye were alternately shielding if they were under attack, or maintaining the barrier if they were not. It required split-second timing and tremendous concentration, and he could see the strain beginning to tell on both of them. Surely, sooner or later, one of them must fail – and fall.
Iriana was the only loved one Avithan had left.
Seeing her battling the giant, his only thought was to save her.
Ever since they’d been children, they’d played games of getting past one another’s shields, until they both knew each other’s magical defences – and how to get through them – as well as they knew their own. With her attention elsewhere, Iriana would not be expecting an attack from the rear. On impulse, he threw a sleep spell at her, and saw her crumple, shrinking as she fell.
‘Hey!’ came an outraged shout from Taine. ‘What the bloody blazes are you doing?’ He took a gigantic stride towards Avithan, who grew in stature to meet him, forgetting that he was still in the net. The meshes burst apart and the bearers dropped the impossible weight. Avithan fell the short distance, dropping to his knees, then sprang up to meet the advancing Hemifae.
‘Let her go, you imbecile,’ Taine shouted. ‘That thing will go after Corisand now.’
With a snarl, Avithan launched himself at this meddling interloper, knocking him off his feet. The pair of them rolled and grappled, losing their concentration and shrinking to their normal size. Beyond all reason now, Avithan groped for his knife and the two of them struggled for control of the blade for a moment, before Taine took it off him and sent it spinning away. That moment of distraction cost him dear. Avithan ploughed a fist into his face that sent the back of Taine’s head smashing into the ground. He sprawled on the grass, motionless, pale and limp as a corpse.
When Iriana fell, her barrier vanished, and suddenly the Moldan, now with only one foe to fight, was free once more. Raging, he took the last stride to the Academy and brought his weapon smashing down again and again amid the buildings, then he turned and lumbered towards Corisand. He had only one target now – and she would pay.
It was as well that Healers were taught to shield themselves from the psychic shock that accompanied the death of a Wizard, for now citizens of Tyrineld were dying in their hundreds. Melisanda, trying with all her might to maintain her shield, had been watching the battle from the window of Tinagen’s study in the Healers’ complex. She saw the giant appear; saw the other figures grow to match it, and gasped to see that one of them was Avithan – and another was Iriana.
Melisanda was gathering her will to apport across to help her friends – the ban on such acts within the city was insignificant now – when she was stopped by Tinagen’s hand on her arm. She started, and her gathered powers dissipated. She turned on him angrily. ‘Leave me alone. I must go to Iriana.’
With a curse, Melisanda pulled away from him. ‘I can’t. My friends . . .’ She was desperately torn. She thought of all her friends in danger: Chathak and Thara, thank providence, were safe in Nexis helping set up supply caches for Sharalind’s army, and had taken Iriana’s dog Bear and the small white cub from Aerillia with them, but the others . . . Yinze she could sense nearby but couldn’t see him, and grieving Avithan and blind Iriana were all set to do battle with a colossal fiend, horrific beyond all imagining. How could she not go to them? Yet as a Healer she had made vows, and her duty was clear. Though she might curse Tinagen, she knew in her heart that he was right. She must stay here and help those who needed her.
Yet she couldn’t seem to drag herself from the window, and now Tinagen was at her side, unable to pull his own eyes away. She saw the Moldan mow down Sharalind’s forces with its sinister axe; saw Yinze pull Avithan to safety. Saw that Iriana, who stood on the hilltop to the north of the city, seemed to have help already from two strangers. Then she saw the Moldan begin his rampage. The southern promontory vanished in one axe blow, and he was heading towards the Ariel’s Tower headland.
She knew they would be next.
Already, as he drew closer, she could feel the building shaking, and a crack snaked up the study wall from floor to ceiling.
‘Quick,’ Tinagen shouted, grabbing her arm. ‘We’ve got to get everyone out.’
‘But where to? Where can they go?’ Melisanda said. ‘We haven’t the strength to apport those critical patients right out of the city – it’s too far from here.’
As they fled out onto the landing and past the window that looked out onto the ocean, a movement, a flash of colour, caught her eye. ‘Tinagen,’ she cried, pointing at the fishing fleet. ‘Could we shift them there?’
‘To a moving target? At that distance, heading away from us? Have you lost your mind?’
‘Is there any choice? Send the ambulatory ones away now, they must take their chances and get out of the city as best they can. If they stay on this side and get off the headland, they might have a hope. But the bedridden ones are doomed unless we try something.’
Tinagen hesitated – but only for a heartbeat. ‘We’ll have to do it in teams then . . .’ While they had been talking, they’d been racing down the staircase to the next floor. All the while the booming footsteps were coming closer. The Moldan must have been smashing and destroying as he went, or he would have already been here, but the whole building was shaking now. Great cracks were appearing in the walls and the ceilings.
Tinagen stopped at the bottom of the stairs and flung out an arm. ‘Go that way and start with Incondor. We don’t want a political situation—’
His words were cut off in a shattering rumble and crash as the entire stairwell collapsed on top of him. Melisanda, already racing away to do his bidding, was enveloped in clouds of choking dust, and spun to see the hallway half-filled with a pile of rubble. The death of her Luen Head hit her like a hammer-blow, driving her to her knees.
‘Tinagen!’ She gasped his name out on a sob, but there was no time for grieving now. Brushing tears away she got to her feet, braced her shoulders to take the load, and rushed away to organise the Healers – her Healers now – shouting out instructions in mindspeech as she went. There might be little they could do and barely any time left, but they would do their best to save what lives they could.
With Yinze close behind her, Kea reached the Dragon’s dwelling and wrenched open the rooftop door, gliding down into the spacious chamber below without bothering with the stairs. She had seen the Moldan escape from the barriers that were confining it, and it was now laying about the city with its immense axe – far too close for comfort. Inside the building the wide doorway that Atka used for an exit had been choked by falling debris when the adjacent structure had collapsed, and there was no way out for her. Her golden scales dulled by a film of dust, she was curled protectively around a gleaming egg that was large enough to hold a small human child, if it was curled up tightly inside the shell.
‘Kea!’ Atka cried. ‘Oh, Kea, I’m so glad to see you. My egg – you have to get it out of here.’
The winged girl, with Yinze close behind, landed near the Dragon’s head. ‘A plague on the egg!’ she snapped. ‘What about you? Atka, we have to get you out.’
Though she could not see outside, she could hear ominous crashes and howls, and a chill ran through her. It sounded as though the Moldan was coming even closer. Kea could feel the earth shaking from his heavy footfalls, and could hear the screams of his victims.
‘There’s no time for me,’ Atka said. ‘The weather is too cold, and I’m too sluggish to escape that monster, even if you could get me out of here in time. Unless someone stops him soon, I’m finished. Please, for my sake, take the egg. Maybe the Wizards can keep it warm enough to hatch.’
‘I’m not leaving you,’ the winged girl cried fiercely.
‘It’s that or die here with me,’ the Dragon replied implacably. ‘It would take a miracle to save me now. Hope for that miracle, Kea – but take my egg to safety.’
‘Yinze, you take it.’ Kea turned to the Wizard. ‘I’ll stay here to help Atka.’
‘I can’t. I need both hands for the harp.’
‘Please, Kea,’ Atka begged. ‘It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.’
With a curse, Kea capitulated at last. ‘All right; hand it over. I’ll take it somewhere safe – then I’m coming back for you.’
The egg, large, smooth and heavy as it was, proved impossible for the winged girl to hold. She and Yinze hastily improvised a kind of sack from the Wizard’s cloak, lashing the four corners together with the egg contained within. Kea laid a hand on the Dragon’s face. ‘I’m coming back for you, I promise.’ Then, her wings labouring hard to lift the extra weight, she took off with Yinze, unable to look back for the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
35
~
CATACLYSM
With horror, Corisand saw Iriana fall, and the Moldan’s deadly focus swing towards herself. If she couldn’t revive her friend – and quickly – they were both doomed. Hastily she changed back to a normal-sized equine form, then used the flying spell to speed across the city. While she was moving so fast it was hard to shield, and Ghabal was throwing petrifaction spells at her as hard as he could. The Windeye zigzagged, back and forth, high and low across the sky. There were near misses where she felt the giant’s unclean magic sizzling past, but she kept on heading back to where the prone forms of Taine and the Wizard lay, along with the idiot who was responsible for this mess.
Shock at his own deed brought Avithan back to his senses. He got to his feet – only to be ploughed down again by something large and solid. He rolled over, and saw a grey horse, ears back, teeth bared, looming above him. Before he could move, the animal planted one of her forefeet on his chest, right above his heart, pinning him to the ground. The Moldan was coming closer now. All of Corisand’s concentration had to be focused on her shield so that she could not use her powers for anything else, but there were other ways to get the sleep spell off her friend.
‘Take it off,’ she ordered Avithan in mindspeech. ‘Take your bloody sleep spell off my friend.’
‘No,’ Avithan shouted. ‘Get off me, you foul beast.’ He could find no missiles nearby to hurl at her by magic, nor could he crack the ground beneath her feet without endangering himself. He threw up a strangling vine, but it scraped harmlessly against her shield, and a petrifaction spell bounced harmlessly off the same barrier.
‘Take the spell off.’ Corisand pressed her weight down harder on his chest, and Avithan screamed in pain. The Windeye spoke again, her voice cold and hard as iron. ‘Take it off or I’ll kill
you.’ Without waiting, she pressed down again, feeling Avithan’s ribs bend a little beneath the weight.
‘All right,’ he screamed. ‘Stop, stop! I’m doing it!’
Chiannala fell onto the pitching deck of the boat with a jolt that knocked the breath from her body. She could scarcely believe that she was still in one piece. Her first apport, and she had survived it! Ignoring her aches and bruises she got to her feet, balancing uncertainly on the tilting surface, and looked around for Incondor. The Skyman was sprawled across the deck nearby, but the splints and bracing on his wings were cracked and splintered, and his wing bones had been further shattered and mangled in the apport.
Two other bedridden patients had followed her onto the pitching deck, and another of the Healers: she recognised Lameron, looking pale and haggard, tending to them. There was all sorts of shouting and commotion going on among the fisherfolk, with much hauling of ropes and massive movements of sails going on above her head. It seemed that someone else had missed the target and was in the ocean, and the crew were trying to turn the boat in time to pick them up.
Then a groan from her right turned her attention back to Incondor. She staggered over and knelt at his side. ‘What’s hurting?’
He reached out and clasped her hand. ‘Everything,’ he groaned.
‘I’ll take care of it.’
‘It’s no good – we lost them.’ Someone’s voice broke into her concentration as she worked to block Incondor’s pain. She looked up in some irritation to see a tall woman, the one who had spoken, in the bows looking out across the sea, where several sails from other boats could be seen. Judging from her clothing, she was part of the crew. Someone else busied themselves with ropes around the mast behind Chiannala as an older, blue-eyed man shouted, ‘Bring her about! Let’s head for home.’ He turned to Lameron. ‘I’m sorry, Healer, but it’s very hard to pick up someone who fell off a moving boat, and in this case, your folk were never on board in the first place so we had that extra distance to cover. We did our best but . . .’ He spread his hands.
