Heritage Of The Xandim

by Maggie Furey

  He held out his hand to her, but Iriana the self-reliant would not take it, and he suppressed a flash of annoyance at her obduracy. Sometimes she took this business of being independent much too far. It meant that she kept everyone, even the friends who loved her, stubbornly at arm’s length - where Avithan did not want to be. Her animals had no such difficulty. She lifted Melik to her shoulder, and Steel the magpie swooped above, spying out the path ahead. Bear came with them, even deigning to break into a lumbering run. He was a lazy creature at the best of times, and with his thick, shaggy coat he found it difficult to deal with the summer’s heat in Tyrineld, normally saving most of his activity for the cooler evenings.

  They retraced Avithan’s steps through the city and went back into the library, which was pleasantly shady and cool on such a hot day. As they hurried down the narrow corridor, he was certain he caught a glimpse of his mother out of the corner of his eye, peering at them around a door. But when he turned his head there was no sign of anyone, and he hid a smile. Sharalind was absolutely bursting with curiosity, and he was willing to bet that when the attendees did eventually gather for Cyran’s postponed meeting, she would be the first one there.

  The warmth of the sunshine struck them once more as they went out onto the turret roof, where Avithan activated his bridge of light again. Melik and Bear were used to it by now, and the magpie simply ignored it and soared across the gap at their side, cackling derision at the seagulls that swooped and dived at the gallant intruder flashing past them in his livery of black and white.

  As they sped over the ocean on the magic bridge, Avithan glanced at Iriana. Why did his father want her? What was she thinking? He could guess. When she had an idea in her head, she didn’t give up easily. He himself was ambivalent about the whole business. On one hand, he wanted to see her happy, and fought his parents and Zybina for her independence at every opportunity. On the other, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want her to go away. It wasn’t just the inescapable fact that, despite her remarkable adaptation to her blindness, the risks out there must be greater for her than for most folk. He understood that she was capable of managing most difficulties very well, and had great faith in her. No, he was ashamed to admit that his motive was pure selfishness. He didn’t want to let her go because he would miss her desperately, and the light would go out of his days until she returned.

  11

  THE EMISSARIES

  In times to come, history would know her as Iriana of the Beasts. But history never did tell how she had come to forge such close links with the animal world, nor did it ever explain the reason. In times to come, she would win great renown, be transformed into a mighty figure of legend and eventually be revered as a goddess - but if anyone had tried to tell her so, especially on that ordinary summer’s day in Tyrineld, she would have laughed them to scorn. The last of her concerns was the future - apart, that is, from the near future in which she hoped to persuade the Archwizard to finally let her see something of the world beyond her home.

  When she entered the tower with Avithan and her animals, Cyran was waiting for them. Iriana was surprised to see Esmon, the Head of the Luen of Warriors, also present. It was no secret among the wizards of Tyrineld that he and Cyran did not usually see eye to eye, so what could he be doing there? And, for that matter, why had the Archwizard summoned Iriana herself into such august company? Avithan might also be the Head of a Luen, but that was different - she had known him all her life. Remembering with horror that she was still wearing her patched old gown, she wished that she had taken the time to change. Why had she let Avithan drag her here so quickly? With Melik’s vision she looked at Cyran, anxiously scanning his face for any clues as to why he had sent for her, but his expression was grave and somewhat aloof as usual, and gave nothing away.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said. ‘Come in and make yourself comfortable. You know Esmon, do you not?’

  ‘Indeed,’ the Warrior said with a smile. ‘My younger brother Chathak is one of Iriana’s best friends.’ Tall even for a Wizard, with long, slanting green eyes that could glitter with a cold and merciless light, Esmon cut an imposing figure to his friends. To his enemies, he was positively intimidating. His head was bald, the hair growth suppressed by magic, but his face was his most arresting feature. The flesh was tinted in places by magical means into a dramatic mask, fashioned like the wings of a glittering, multicoloured bird that swept across his eyes and the upper parts of his face. All of the Warrior Wizards wore such winged guises by Cyran’s order. They were designed to act as a warning, like the brilliant colouring of many venomous creatures. The Archwizard strongly disapproved of the use of magic to fight and kill and, though he had grudgingly accepted that the Warriors must exist, he had insisted that other Magefolk must be warned if they were in the presence of one who had mastered the killing spells.

  ‘Now,’ Cyran said, ‘sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you.’ He offered them wine, and when they were all supplied, he sat down with them at the table, Avithan and Iriana to his right and left, and Esmon beyond Avithan. Iriana settled herself and her animals quickly. Melik leapt down from her shoulder and arranged himself decorously on the table, his tail wrapped neatly around his paws, as though he too sensed the importance of the occasion, while Bear took up his usual position underneath it, and the magpie perched on the curtain rail of the northern window, his head turning this way and that as he surveyed the scene with his bright, beady eyes.

  Iriana waited expectantly for the Archwizard to speak, but when he did, his opening surprised her. ‘Before we begin, Iriana, there is one important condition that I must impose upon you. I must swear you to the utmost secrecy. You may not, on peril of your very life, disclose to another living soul what you will hear in this room today. I am putting colossal trust in you by letting you into our innermost counsels. Can I depend upon your discretion? Do you swear?’

  Wondering what she was about to hear, Iriana put her hand to her heart. ‘Upon my life, I swear never to reveal what I hear today to another living soul,’ she said gravely.

  Cyran nodded. ‘Then all is well. Now, firstly, I would like to give you some background to the current situation. I demanded an oath of secrecy, Iriana, because what I am about to divulge is known to only a handful of people: the other leaders of the Magefolk, the Heads of the Luens in this city, and my lifemate and son. So you see that you will be joining a very small and select company - though by the time you’ve heard what I have to say, you’ll probably wish you could go back to a state of happy ignorance. Nevertheless . . .’

  Iriana listened intently while the Archwizard told her of his visions, and his fears for the future of the world of the Magefolk. He explained that those fears had been the reason for Chathak, Ionor and Yinze being sent away to the other Magefolk to learn their alien magic so that, hopefully, Iriana would not be the only one to bear the responsibility of preserving such knowledge for the future if things went badly wrong. As his words unfolded, she knew that he meant the annihilation of the Magefolk, or something very close to it, and felt a chill of horror spreading to the core of her being. When he had finished, she asked, ‘Why did you tell me this? What can I do to help?’

  The warmth of Cyran’s unexpected smile and the look of pride that shone on Avithan’s face helped to dispel a little of the coldness within her. ‘Bless you, my dear. I knew I could depend on you,’ Cyran said. ‘Now, in the light of what I have just told you, allow me to explain why I brought you here today. Lately I have been receiving messages from Nexis that have made me very uneasy. It seems that the Phaerie Hunt is getting out of hand. They have been blatantly trespassing into our lands, and have killed not only the feral humans that are their rightful quarry, but also a number of slaves belonging to the Nexian Wizardfolk, who were at work within our area of the forest.’

  ‘What?’ Esmon exclaimed. ‘They’ve broken the treaty? Cyran, we can’t let them get away with that.’
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  ‘Indeed.’ The Archwizard looked around at them all. ‘I hold that treaty with the Phaerie to be one of my greatest accomplishments, and it has won us years of peace - peace we should not relinquish lightly. Clearly, these encroachments cannot be permitted to continue, but we must act with the greatest caution. The last thing we want is to precipitate the hideous conflicts I witnessed in my vision. That is where you come in, Iriana and Avithan. I intend to send an official deputation to Hellorin, and I want you two to comprise the delegation, with Esmon, an experienced traveller and hunter as well as a Warrior, to take care of you both, and keep you out of trouble.’ He smiled at Iriana. ‘You are about to get your wish. I am sending you on a journey at last.’

  Iriana gasped. For an instant all other considerations were overwhelmed by delight. ‘Is it really true?’ she said. ‘You’re going to let me go away? Oh, thank you, Archwizard, thank you a million times.’ Then practicality asserted itself even in the face of such excitement. ‘But why did you choose Avithan and me? Don’t misunderstand me, sir - I don’t want you to change your mind - but why would you not send more experienced people on such a vital mission?’

  ‘You’re right, Iriana,’ Cyran replied. ‘In normal circumstances that is exactly what I would have done. But as I said, I want to avoid precipitating any conflict at all costs, and you are exactly the people to allay their suspicions. Avithan is not completely inexperienced in these matters. He and Hellorin met on several occasions when the terms of the treaty were being negotiated. My son has sufficient rank to show the Phaerie we hold them in respect, but you’ll be looked upon as messengers only, I hope, and will not be seen as a threat.’

  ‘Not be seen as a threat?’ Esmon growled. ‘The whole point is to let them know we’re a threat otherwise they’ll just keep trampling all over us. And before you say it, Cyran, I understand your fears, especially after the visions you’ve been experiencing. But the Phaerie won’t respect anything other than a show of strength. The best way to head off any conflict is to demonstrate that we’re an adversary to be feared.’

  Cyran shook his head. ‘I won’t take that risk, Esmon. Not yet. If diplomacy fails, there will be time enough to do things your way.’

  ‘Of course it will fail. They’ll laugh in your face. I’m telling you—’

  ‘Enough.’ Cyran leapt to his feet. His expression, normally so benign, was as cold and remote as the face of a mountain. ‘May I remind you, Esmon, that you are not the Archwizard, much as you would like to stand in my place. And while that is the case, I will dictate the policy for our people, and you will carry it out. Your objections have been noted, but for now, we will proceed in accordance with my wishes.’

  For a moment they remained there, eye to eye. Iriana could sense their two wills clash like swords. Through Melik’s eyes, she saw Avithan tense, clearly preparing to intercede in defence of his father if necessary. Then Esmon shrugged, deliberately breaking the tension. ‘On your head be it. But how do I fit in with your overtures of peace? It’s plain enough that I’m a Warrior.’ He touched the winged mask that was magically stained into his skin. ‘If they don’t see me as a threat, then they’re fools.’

  Cyran nodded. ‘You’re right, of course. And - I cannot believe I’m saying this, because it goes against every principle I possess, and I know I will never hear the last of it from you - but I want you to remove your mask, just for this trip. You can accompany Avithan and Iriana as guide and hunter to the party, but the Phaerie must never guess that you are a Warrior.’

  Esmon laughed harshly. ‘Mask or no mask, it’s obvious that I’m a Warrior, but if you insist that we go through with this charade, then I’ll do my part. The fact that you’re prepared to abandon your precious principles in this case only serves to emphasise the danger that we all face, and it shows me how convinced you are that you’re right.’

  ‘The situation is dangerous, which is why I want you to go in disguise at this point. Though I do need you to take care of these two young travellers, there is a more important reason for your inclusion in the party. I want you to use your experience as a Warrior to try to discover, or at least estimate, the offensive and defensive capabilities of the Phaerie, in case it should ever come to a war.’

  Esmon sat back and gave Cyran a wolfish grin. ‘Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place? Truly, Cyran, whatever you may believe of me, I don’t want a conflict any more than you do. Because of my experience in developing magic as a weapon, I know even better than you the appalling risks we’d be running if the situation ever came to a war.’

  Avithan and Iriana had listened to this exchange in silence. Though Cyran had told them of his vision, and explained his concerns to them, the actual mention of war made the danger seem far more real and immediate. Now, however, Avithan spoke at last. ‘That explains Esmon’s role,’ he said, ‘but what, exactly, are we supposed to say to them? If the peace and well-being of the entire Magefolk civilisation may be at stake here, I want to be sure we don’t make any mistakes.’

  Cyran gave his son a look of approval. ‘I simply want you to suggest that we believe the trespass of the Phaerie took place in the heat of the chase. And as it must clearly have been an oversight on their part, we are prepared to look upon the slaughter of our slaves as a case of mistaken identity. Tell them we will make certain that our slaves carry clearer identifying marks from now on, and that we would be grateful for their assurance that such a blunder will never happen again.’

  While he spoke, Iriana’s mind had been racing. ‘And why will we really be there, Archwizard?’ she asked. ‘As spies?’

  Cyran winced. ‘I wouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but yes, you’re right. It is important to let the Phaerie know we are aware of their encroachments, and that we object, but your main purpose in Eliorand will be to collect as much information as possible.’

  He picked up his cup and took a sip of wine. ‘We must learn what is behind these disquieting events that are taking place within the realm of the Forest Lord. The glamourie over Eliorand has been strengthened, and even our most powerful scryers cannot penetrate the veil. All contracts with our merchants have been cancelled and trading has ceased, as has any form of communication. Why is Hellorin isolating himself like this? Why these sudden raids? How has the situation changed? It is vital that we discover whether we can continue to coexist peacefully with the Phaerie, as soon as possible.’

  He hesitated. ‘You should also know . . . I had a spy in Eliorand. Until now I have kept him secret, his identity known only to myself. But since the winter, about the time these raids started, I have heard nothing from him.’ The Archwizard shook his head. ‘After all this time I fear some evil fate may have befallen him, but if he yet lives, I hope that he will find some way to contact you once you are in the city.’

  ‘If they are so keen to isolate themselves,’ Avithan said, ‘are you sure they will let us into Eliorand?’

  ‘Unless they want to risk a deadly insult to the Wizardfolk, they will not dare turn away the named representatives of the Archwizard, one of whom is my son. And once you are inside, Iriana, you will be in a position to use the unique talents that are the reason for my sending you with Avithan, rather than some other young Wizard.’

  Iriana nodded. She had been wondering why he had chosen her, but had been afraid to ask.

  ‘Surprisingly, I am not referring to your all-encompassing magical skills - in fact, I am hoping you won’t need to use your powers of Fire, Water and Air at all, because the Phaerie must not find out that you possess them. The discovery might put you in the gravest of danger. You have other gifts, however, that will prove more valuable to us in these circumstances. You alone among the Wizardfolk possess certain unique abilities.’

  Cyran reached out a hand to stroke the cat at Iriana’s side, the bleak expression on his face softening a little as Melik began to purr. ‘To compensate for the fact that you cannot see, you have developed your other senses to an extraordinary degree. You tol
d me once that you can tell by the tone of a person’s voice whether or not they are lying, and I need that talent now. The Phaerie are masters of lies and deception, but at this time it is imperative I know the truth concerning their activities and their plans. Furthermore, your blindness will make you seem less of a threat. When someone has lost the use of one sense, people often wrongly assume the same impairment in the others, so they may let things slip in front of you. And because you are engaging and kind-hearted, you may even be able to make friends among the Phaerie - and, more importantly, among their slaves. Try to get as much information as you can out of the human servants. If it is possible, I also want you to use your animal companions as spies. They can go where you cannot, especially the birds, and who would suspect a mere animal of being a threat? I wonder, do you think you can access their ears as well as their eyes?’

  Iriana nodded. ‘I’ll need to practise a little, but I think I should be able to manage it. Was there anything else, Archwizard?’

  ‘Yes: one more thing. The Phaerie, as you know, ride horses that can fly. They are carefully guarded and Hellorin will not permit even a single one of them to be sold. If you can do it without putting yourself in danger, Iriana, I want you to find out their secret. Do they fly through their own powers, or is it due to some Phaerie magic? And if so, could we duplicate the spells? In future, if my fears do not prove to be groundless, flying horses could be a great advantage to us in any conflict.’