by Maggie Furey
Iriana turned to Corisand. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘We finish it. We bring him down to size.’
She tightened her fist round the Fialan, so hard that the Windeye gasped with pain but followed suit, tightening her own grip around the Stone. And before the stunned eyes of the terrified survivors of Tyrineld, the Moldan’s glittering prison began to shrink, down and down, and as it diminished the walls of the crystal grew increasingly dense, so that the sparkling jewel turned clouded and opaque – until finally, lying in the grass, was a stone no bigger than the Fialan; dull, dark and dead with its prisoner visible no more.
Utterly drained, Iriana and Corisand collapsed against each other and sank to the ground, still linked by their hands that were clenched tightly around the Fialan.
That was how Taine found them when he awakened with a pounding headache and an aching jaw. Both of them lying so terrifyingly still, with the Stone of Fate’s power surrounding them in a blazing emerald aureole. Alive? Dead? The sight of Iriana’s unmoving form and still, lifeless face punched through his heart as though a dagger had been driven into it, with such force that it literally knocked him back a step or two.
Iriana?
When had he started to feel like this about her?
There was no time to wonder. He had to help them. But no matter how hard he tried to reach them, the power of the Fialan kept driving him back – until finally, it faded of its own accord and the green glow died away, leaving Wizard and Windeye lying with their hands still linked, and clasped tightly around the Stone.
The sound of Taine’s voice brought Iriana back from some faraway place, and as she opened her eyes she felt Corisand stirring beside her. The first thing she saw was Taine, kneeling at her shoulder, clinging to her free hand, his face contorted in anguish that suddenly transformed into a smile as he saw her awaken.
‘Taine?’ she whispered.
‘I’m here.’
As the storm wrack blew away from the sky, a glowing sunset blazed in the west, the last farewell to a city of magic, beauty and grace, the like of which would never be seen again. And as the light began to dim, a pale, clear new moon became visible, like the clean, sharp blade of a sickle cleaving past and future. The churning waters thundered and crashed against the cliffs of the newly formed coastline: it would take some time to settle, this new-made ocean that separated the north of the continent from the south.
‘Who would have believed that such a day as this could end with such a glorious sky?’ Iriana murmured. ‘At least all the beauty in the world has not died with Tyrineld, and out of all the death and destruction we must somehow forge a future.’
At her side, Corisand stiffened. ‘Iriana?’ she said in a small, strangled voice.
‘Yes?’
‘Whose vision are you using?’
‘Why, yours of course.’
‘I have my eyes closed. Whatever you’re seeing, you’re doing it on your own.’
Iriana sat up abruptly, and the change of perspective left her giddy. She turned to her friend, stunned and disbelieving. ‘I can see? Oh, by all Creation – I can see!’
‘This is wonderful!’ Taine, his face bruised but his eyes brimming with joy, caught her up in an embrace that made her heart beat faster. When he released her Iriana looked around, wide-eyed in awe and amazement, taking in her world for the first time through her own eyes. Even though ruin and tragedy lay before her, even through her grief and bone-deep weariness excitement sang through her mind and body. Her world had suddenly grown so large; had gained so much depth, movement and colour, it seemed that she just couldn’t stop looking.
Only the Fialan could have wrought this miracle. Somehow, while she and Corisand had been fused, there had been a sharing – or was it an exchange?
‘Corisand, can you see?’ she asked in sudden alarm.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Windeye said. ‘I can see just fine. I don’t know what else we shared when we were merged within the Fialan’s power.’ She turned to Iriana, and for an instant, through the sorrow, the strain and fatigue, her face was brightened by a smile. ‘But it’s going to be really interesting finding out.’ Suddenly she hugged her friend. ‘Oh, Iriana, this is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. You can really see!’
‘I know, I know – and it’s all thanks to you and the Fialan.’ Her heart brimming over with an effervescent mix of astonishment and joy, Iriana returned Corisand’s hug, then turned the other way to hug Taine. ‘It seems a dreadful thing to say, after all the terrible things that have happened today, but this is the most incredible moment of my life.’
Taine tightened his arms around her. ‘Despite everything that’s happened today, take this moment and treasure it, dearest Iriana. You’ve deserved it.’
36
~
AFTER THE STORM
Because of the waters pouring into the immense fissure that the giant had created, the coastline had altered beyond recognition as the fishing fleet made its way home. Long stretches of seabed lay exposed; acres of high rocks, some as tall as cliffs, clad in barnacles, limpets, and dying anemone, interspersed with long flat stretches of sand, mud or stinking, drying weed. Crustaceans scuttled for cover from the blizzard of feasting seabirds that whirled and screamed above them, and fish flopped and gasped in the shallow pools left behind by the receding waves.
The battered fleet made their way northward, surrounded and propelled by the guardian Leviathan, but the thoughts of their crews were still very much with the devastation they had witnessed in Tyrineld, and the monster that had caused it. The same thought was in everyone’s mind:
Will we be next? When that abomination has finished with the Wizards, will it come for us, and for our families?
On the Venturer, no one spoke. The shock and terror was all too recent; they could still barely believe that they had escaped the maelstrom, but they were still fleeing for their lives. No one dared voice their thoughts aloud – as if, by speaking of the abomination that they feared, they might somehow attract its attention and bring its wrath down on their heads. Chiannala was still huddled beside Incondor, a creature at bay, her face sheened with a sickly pallor. Lameron, with one arm injured in a fall when the ship had rolled and lurched, was ignoring his injury to tend to the other remaining patient, though his face was contorted with his own pain. As for the rest of Valior’s crew, Melisanda was sealing a bleeding gash on Seema’s cheekbone, which had been sliced open by a flying splinter from one of the sprung deck planks, while Derwyn, treading carefully to avoid the gaps, tried to clear the tangle of ropes and wreckage from what remained of the decks.
Valior was at the helm, though with the Leviathan steering the boat he really had no need to be there, save to reassure himself that his vessel was still in one piece. He still had one arm around Brynne, who was watching Melisanda at work while her mind, torn and confused by the conflicts between her new life and her old, flicked back and forth between her parents on their farm, all the ambition that had burned within her to attend the Academy and become a Healer, and the new family and profession that she had come to love. They were not even her kind – they were merely mortals – but there was no ‘merely’ about them in her mind. They had become as much a part of her as the flesh and blood kin she had left behind on the farm.
Suddenly Brynne was jolted out of her thoughts by a great wave of relief that passed through the Leviathan. At the same time Melisanda sagged against the rail, so that Seema had to put out a hand to stop her falling. ‘It’s over,’ she cried. ‘They’ve got him. Iriana and her friend have destroyed the abomination.’
With the news of the monster’s defeat, many of the Leviathan turned and sped back towards the former location of Tyrineld, now lost beneath the turbulent, turbid ocean. Wizards would not drown – there still might be survivors who could be rescued. Brynne, her powers newly awakened with the return of her memory, listened to their mindspeech in awe. Apart from the injured winged man on the deck, this was the first time she had encountered any
of the other Magefolk.
With Melisanda’s words the terrible strain that had gripped the ship dissolved. Suddenly there was a future again, yet the Healer herself did not share the relief of the others. Though the battle had been won, the fight was far from over. Now the survivors must start to rebuild their lives, to mourn their losses and survive through the coming winter, and all the years beyond. The real work was only just beginning – and as Head of the Luen of Healers, she would be right in the thick of things. Suddenly she felt very lonely, isolated out here on the ocean. How she wished that she could be with her friends now! After the battle for the city they might be in dire need of her skills, and she was in desperate need of their support. If only . . .
She blinked. Surely she must be dreaming. She had been longing to see Ionor, and for a moment, she was sure she’d heard his voice, a faint echo of mindspeech that had been barely discernible against the background murmur of her thoughts. Wishful thinking, she told herself ruefully – then suddenly she heard him again.
‘Mel? Melisanda? Are you there? Are you all right?’
By the side of the ship a Leviathan surfaced, with Ionor riding on its back. Helped by a willing hand from Derwyn, the Wizard scrambled aboard the ship and ran to hug Melisanda, and wipe the tears of joy that flooded her eyes. ‘Oh, Ionor, you don’t know how happy I am to see you! I’ve missed you so much. But how did you get here? How did all the Leviathan know to come, just when we needed them?’
Ionor smiled. ‘I had the strangest dream a few nights ago. There was a colossal tree, in a forest made of stone and a woman . . .’ He paused, frowning. ‘Mel, I can’t describe her, but there was such an aura of power around her. She told me in no uncertain terms that Iriana needed me back here in Tyrineld immediately, and all the Leviathan with me, to give me some vital information about the making of our Artefact. Then I woke up and knew, absolutely knew, that it wasn’t a dream. There was such a sense of urgency in her message. So I talked to Kahuna, the Leviathan leader – and he’d had the woman in his dream too! I don’t have to tell you, we set out as fast as we possibly could.’
His voice grew thick with emotion. ‘We arrived in time to see that monstrosity, and the fall of Tyrineld, and then some of the Leviathan spotted your plight, and came to the rescue. But my heart nearly stopped when I saw Iriana battling that thing. I couldn’t leave until it was all over, and she had prevailed. She made us all proud today, Mel. She made every one of the Wizardfolk proud.’
The Magefolk of the ocean found a safe haven for the fleet in a newly formed inlet where a steep drop-off in the former seabed had formed a deep, curving bay. Leaving their vessels under the guardianship of the Leviathan, the crews set off on the lengthy tramp back to their homes, with the injured – there were nine in all, spread out among the fishing boats – carried on makeshift stretchers made from ripped-up decking, and attended by the surviving Healers, who had been likewise distributed throughout the fleet. Melisanda and Ionor, however, managed to combine their powers to generate a mind-call that would reach their friends, who even now were heading to Nexis. Some half-hour later, as they were nearing the fishing village of Independence – the natives of which had suddenly, to their shock and dismay, found themselves dwelling some distance inland – they were astonished to see a group of horses heading towards them – flying through the air!
Chathak and Thara had come with the Xandim, for their companions who had taken part in the battle were too exhausted to travel further that day. It took a good while for the terrified fisherfolk to be soothed, and explanations shared all round, by which time everyone was settled in the village’s inn, much to the consternation of the innkeeper. Chiannala had been left with Incondor, who was being treated by a reluctant Lameron, but the door of their room was guarded by Wizards who could use their powers to prevent an apport, should the girl contemplate or be able to perform one.
Brynne had returned to the home of her foster family, to be welcomed by a tearful Osella, who, when the sea suddenly retreated, had been convinced that her entire family must have been lost. She was so glad to see them that it took a few moments for the grave faces of the others to register.
Valior took matters into his own hands. ‘Osella, it’s a long story, but our Brynne got her memory back today. She was a student Wizard on her way to the Academy when another girl – the one upstairs at the inn – tried to murder her and stole her identity.’ He turned to Brynne, and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘And now it’s time for her to go home,’ he said softly.
Brynne stared at him in horror. What was he saying? Did he want to get rid of her? But he had always been so good to her. He’d made her one of his family and for a time she had belonged here. She’d come to love them all – and one especially. ‘Valior, do you want me to go?’ Her eyes grew wide with dismay and filled with tears.
Suddenly he gathered her into his arms. ‘Little mermaid, it’ll tear the heart out of me when you go,’ he said thickly. ‘But you know yourself that you belong with your family, with your people.’ He drew back from her and tilted her chin up with one finger, so that she looked into his eyes. ‘I know you love us – and I bless you for that – but you had plans, and a future. You were going to the Academy to learn to be a Healer, and I’ll wager you’ll make a bloody good one. You can’t stay here as a deckhand and spend the rest of your life regretting the opportunities you lost. And because I know your good heart, I know how very much you want to see your parents right now. You love us all, and that’s why you’re torn, but really there’s only one direction for you. All I’m doing is making the choice as easy as I can.’
‘You say I have a good heart,’ Brynne said softly, ‘but Valior, your heart is as big as the ocean itself. And I know you’re right. I have to go and I want to – but oh, it’s hard to leave you all. So right here and now, I’m going to make you a promise. When I’m trained, I’ll come back. Fishing holds so many dangers, this community could use a Healer.’
Valior smiled at her. ‘Don’t bind yourself to such a promise yet, Brynne, for who knows what your future may hold, and you might change your mind, and want a new direction during the years you’ll be training. But if you ever want to visit, we’ll always welcome you as one of our own, and when your training is done – well, time will tell.’
Brynne nodded her agreement, but inside herself she made a vow.
I will come back, Valior. I’ll come back to you – you’ll see.
Though she ached with exhaustion, her heart was leaden with grief for her city and those who had been lost in its fall, and she longed with every fibre of her being for the comfort and company of her friends from whom she had been parted so long, Melisanda, the Luen Head’s new mantle sitting heavily on her shoulders, left Ionor catching up on events with Chathak and Thara, and made her way to the inn of the fishing village, which was being used to shelter the injured from the boats.
She knew from Chathak and Thara that more wounded from Tyrineld’s fall were being brought to Nexis by the Xandim, and the Healers that Tinagen had sent away from the Luen Hall before the monster had struck were working at full stretch, some in a cluster of tents where they treated lesser hurts, and some in the settlement itself, where kind people had offered shelter to those in most need. She was needed back in Nexis and would be returning soon, but first she had to deal with Incondor and Chiannala.
Melisanda knew that Lameron had already given the dread tidings to Incondor that the apport had destroyed the last small chance of ever mending his wings, and that he would be forever flightless. Much as she disliked him, her heart bled for his plight, and for the way he must be feeling at present. If there was any way she could help ease him through this painful time, then of course she would do it. As for the girl who had apparently taken Brynne’s identity – the Luen Head wanted very much to get to the bottom of that mystery. It was not her place to punish the girl – her crimes were so grave that only the Archwizard could deal with them – but Melisanda was determined to find
out who she was, where she had come from, and why she had done such a terrible thing.
A blast of heat from the blaze in the inn’s fireplace met her as she entered. The low-beamed common room was seething, with every space at the tables taken, and people standing crammed into the spaces between. The couple who owned the inn seemed to be everywhere at once, sliding with practised ease between the crowded bodies as they served drinks, collected empty glasses or carried plates of grilled fish and warm bread, or bowls of soup that tilted at perilous angles but never quite seemed to spill. Everyone was talking at the tops of their voices about the destruction of Tyrineld and the fleet’s narrow escape; in this closely packed space the din was tremendous.
Over the heads of the throng, Melisanda saw Lameron on the stairs, gesturing urgently to her. From the glowering expression on his pale, strained face and the dark glint of anger in his eyes, she didn’t need mindspeech to tell her something had gone seriously wrong. Determinedly she pushed her way towards him, thanking providence that people made a deferential space for her when they noticed the robes of a high-ranking Healer.
Lameron had turned back, and she caught up with him at the top of the stairs. ‘I’m sorry, Melisanda,’ he said wretchedly. ‘I just couldn’t stop him.’
‘Stop who doing what?’ But Melisanda’s sinking heart was already one step ahead of her exhausted brain, and when her assistant opened a door into a room that looked as though a hurricane had passed through, she knew her instincts had been right.
