The Fire Mages' Daughter

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Highness—” Cryalla began.

  “We are going onto the roof,” I said. “Nowhere improper. Nowhere we shouldn’t be. But I have a mind to keep this particular expedition secret.”

  “Most intriguing,” Arran said. “Should we be in disguise, do you think? I have a false moustache somewhere.”

  Even Cryalla laughed at that. When we reached the top floor, we exited from the servants’ stair and walked a short way down the corridor. This particular part of the Keep was the residence of a number of elderly senior servants, now retired, who kept to their apartments. I was reasonably confident we would not be observed.

  There was another door, this one not concealed, but the stairs beyond it were just as unadorned, spiralling up to the roof. We emerged in a large, domed room, packed with telescopes of various sizes.

  “The observation room,” I said. “A few scholars come here at darkmoon to view the stars and the erratic moons. Here… this will be useful.” I picked up a small, hand-held telescope and led the way to a side door. There were ancient wool cloaks on pegs beside it, and Arran and I bundled ourselves up before stepping out onto the roof.

  Probably the Keep had been a defended fortress at one time, for there were high walls with crenellations on both sides, each with a long stair to a narrow landing near the top. Here and there guard-posts were built into the stairs. But otherwise the roof was flat, the space windblown and empty.

  “Now, tell me what you can see. Way up there.”

  I knew where to look, so it wasn’t difficult to make out the tiny dot far above us, circling lazily. It was the third time one of Ly-haam’s eagles had ventured back to Kingswell, and this time I wanted a closer look at it.

  Eventually, Arran managed to spot it. “A bird? Is that what this is about?”

  “A big bird. Here – have a look.”

  He and Cryalla both peered through the telescope, but although they could see that it was a bird of some sort, it was hard to gain any idea of the creature’s size. I was the only one who knew it was an eagle. And only I knew where it came from.

  I didn’t know what it wanted, though. Was it here to keep an eye on me? If so, perhaps standing on the roof would attract its attention. That was my hope, anyway.

  Practice had made it easy for me to switch to the bird’s perspective. It always made me dizzy for a moment, looking down from that great height. Then I realised he – no, she – wasn’t looking at the Keep at all. She was focused on a group of riders heading for the hunting forests.

  I knew that Clan people with an affinity for certain beasts could make them obey their will. It must be so, for how else could they ride them? Did I have the same ability? I had no idea how to do that. For some time, I sent thoughts to the bird, hoping to direct its gaze towards the Keep and our little group on the roof.

  Nothing happened. The bird began to drift further away, leaving the city behind. In frustration, I jumped up and down, waving my arms.

  “Over here, you stupid bird! This way! Look at me, will you!”

  Astonishingly, its gaze turned. Looking through its eyes towards the Keep, I could see myself as a tiny figure bobbing about, arms flapping.

  Several strokes of those massive wings and within a few heartbeats it was right above us, wheeling down, head tilted to watch my antics. It was a strange feeling, being inside that great creature gazing down at myself, and simultaneously looking up at those vast wings.

  “Gods, it is enormous!” Arran breathed behind me. The bird’s shadow blotted out the sky.

  “Highness, run!” Cryalla yelled. I heard the rasp of her sword being drawn. Then a wisp of sound, as Arran drew his own sword. His was less businesslike, a slender affair, but not just for show.

  “Nonsense,” I said. “Put your swords away. She will not harm us.”

  “She?” Arran’s voice was incredulous.

  There was no hostility in the bird at all, only curiosity and, perhaps, excitement. Behind her mind, I was aware of another consciousness, suddenly drawn towards us. Ly-haam, I was sure.

  Stretching out my awareness, I could see through his eyes, too. A room with decorated walls, rugs on the floor, a large, polished table with crystal glasses and decanters of golden wine. Even as I wondered where that was, I sensed his astonishment.

  “Princess?”

  The word wasn’t spoken, it was no more than a thought popping into my mind.

  With a scrabbling of giant claws, the bird landed some distance away from us, still gazing fixedly at me. Cryalla placed herself in front of me, but impatiently I pushed her aside.

  “Princess, if you understand me, wave your left hand.”

  Laughter bubbled up in me. I waved, feeling Ly-haam’s instant excitement. The bird must have felt it, too, for it raised its head and squawked, flapping its wings momentarily.

  I wanted to say something to Ly-haam, but no matter how I tried, nothing seemed to get through. Perhaps there was a knack I hadn’t yet learned, or my capabilities were limited.

  As I walked slowly forward towards the bird, she stared at me, her huge, golden eyes unblinking. She towered over me, head tilted as she watched me approach. She must have been almost as tall as the domed roof of the observation room.

  Behind me, Cryalla’s warning sounded at my shoulder, then the creak of her armoured leather as she shadowed me. Arran appeared at my side, sword raised, slipping instantly into bodyguard mode.

  The eagle sat motionless as I drew near, but her eye shifted to Cryalla and her sword, then flicked to Arran. As the great head moved, I caught sight of a leather harness half buried amongst the feathers.

  So that was how Ly-haam had managed to disappear so abruptly! Clever. And proof that his people did indeed have some close bond with certain animals, despite Zandara’s scepticism. I made a mental note to tell her at the next opportunity. She was so sure of herself, it would be amusing to correct her.

  “Princess, I wish—”

  Abruptly, my awareness of Ly-haam was cut off. It was as if he had popped like a soap bubble, one instant there, the next – nothing. The eagle hopped backwards away from us, and with several mighty flaps, lifted herself into the air and away.

  My eyes strained after her until she was no more than a dark point on the horizon.

  ~~~~~

  Two nights later, I startled awake, a voice in my head.

  “Princess! Can you hear me? Princess!”

  It was still dark, only the night lamps casting a soft glow over the room. Beside me, Arran slept, his blond hair spread out across the pillow, his masculine features softened in sleep, making him look very boyish.

  I rolled onto my side so that I could gaze at him, memorising every angle and hollow of his face.

  “Princess! Come up to the roof! I want to see you.”

  The eagle was perched up there, and, much as I wanted to see her again, it would be cold enough tonight to freeze a statue. I ignored the voice, snuggling deeper into the bedcovers.

  “Princess! Princess!”

  I knew no way to shut him out of my head. He was going to pester me until I complied. Cursing Ly-haam and his whims, I crept out of bed, and threw on a random selection of warm clothes, with a heavy winter cloak on top. I tiptoed out of the room, and through the silent apartment to the main door. It opened on well-oiled hinges, without a squeak.

  Outside, the corridor was empty. A surge of anger washed through me – where were the night guards to protect me from creeping assassins? But then, excitement – I was free! I could go to the roof without the disapproving eyes of Cryalla or anyone else. There were voices round the corner to my left – the missing guards chatting with their counterparts on the apartment’s servants’ entrance, no doubt – so I turned and ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

  “Princess…”

  “All right, all right! I’m coming,” I muttered.

  A burst of excitement in Ly-haam’s mind. “You can talk to me!”

  Hmm, was that the trick
of it? So easy!

  Seeking out another servants’ stair, I started up the steps two at a time, but soon slowed. I’d had so much energy after my visit to the Imperial City, but that had worn off now. I was back to my usual self, not ill but not bouncing with vitality, either.

  As soon as I pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, cold air blasted me. I shivered, pulling my cloak tightly around me. There was no sign of the eagle, but I knew she was near the observation room, where I’d been before.

  “Come to me, bird,” I whispered, feeling quite foolish talking to myself.

  But it worked. I didn’t see her until she was close enough to darken the stars, but I heard the rush of her wings, and felt the icy wind she stirred up. And I could see her in my mind’s eye. I knew exactly where she was.

  “You are so beautiful, Princess,” came the thought in my head.

  “I am so cold, Ly,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “To see you. To talk to you.” A long pause. “I miss you.”

  “Well, you know where I am,” I said crossly. “If you want to see me, come here in person. Good night, Ly. And don’t do this again. It’s very annoying.”

  There was a surge of anguish washing through my mind, and then he was gone. I was glad of it, but there was a tinge of guilt, too. Still, I owed him nothing, and it was rude of him to invade my mind like that. I’d have to find a way to shut him out if he tried again. It was quite unsettling.

  The eagle sat motionless, and this time, with no Cryalla or Arran at my back waving a sword, I dared to go right up to her. Her eye followed me, but there was no fear in her. My mind and hers were connected, and she knew I wouldn’t harm her for the world.

  “You’re a beautiful creature,” I said, reaching up to riffle her neck feathers gently. “And so powerful. It must be an amazing thing to fly like that, to soar above the earth like a goddess of the sky. I can see it through your eyes, but I could never feel it… unless…?”

  I ran my hands over the harness around her neck. It was plain leather, with an extra piece each side fashioned into a kind of stirrup, and a small strap to hold on to. Even so, it seemed a flimsy affair, when it was all that stopped a rider from plummeting to certain death.

  “Would you carry me?” I said softly. “If I asked you politely? Would you, eagle?”

  For answer, she lowered her head so that I could mount easily. I’d like to say that I considered the consequences carefully, or thought about it even for a single heartbeat, but I didn’t. In a rush of excitement, I threw one leg over her neck, thankful that I’d chosen to wear trousers, arranged my feet in the stirrups, grabbed the strap and waited.

  Nothing happened. She turned one eye on me, as if expecting something, but she didn’t move.

  Of course! How stupid of me. Naturally she was waiting for my instructions.

  I laughed, excitement bubbling up in my throat. “Fly!” I cried.

  At once she stood, rocking me. Then, spreading her great wings either side of me, she crouched and launched herself into the air. With one slow flap, then another, we cleared the parapet surrounding the roof and there far below me was the eastern side of the town, still in darkness, with just a few lights here and there from the bakeries and nightwatchers and an occasional insomniac.

  As we rose into the freezing air, I think I screamed in excitement. Or was it fear? I couldn’t tell. It was exhilarating, but terrifying, all at the same time. As the ground fell away beneath me I clung to that strap, my hands clenched around it, a thin band of leather which was all that kept me from certain death.

  I felt the question in the eagle’s mind. “To the top of Candle Mountain,” I said, although the wind dragged the words from my mouth and twisted my face. Obediently she turned a little, and rose higher. As she tipped to one side, I screamed again, sure I was about to plummet to the ground.

  My cloak flapped free, but I dared not move a hand to pull it across me. I wished I’d brought a scarf against the cold. My face was frozen. No, the mountain was a foolish idea. I had a better one.

  “Imperial C-C-City,” I said, almost too cold to form the words.

  She understood, twisting downwards again. This time, I was prepared, leaning close to that powerful neck as the muscles bunched and strained beneath my grip. Gods, what a magnificent creature she was! I laughed out loud for joy, and felt her answering pleasure in my mind. We were one, this wonderful bird and I, united in the exhilaration of flight.

  As she turned, I saw the glowing walls not far away, so I knew we were heading in the right direction. But beyond them, all was in darkness. No one lived in the Imperial City, and Kingswell’s mages and scholars only entered it during the hours of sun. At night it slept, abandoned and empty, provided with houses and servants and clothes and even food for inhabitants who had died or disappeared thousands of years ago.

  I could see nothing, but I guessed the eagle could, for she spiralled confidently down and landed with a small thump on paving slabs. At once lights sprang up around us, some low down, edging paths, and some high on walls and posts, lighting the way for the long-gone citizens. And for us.

  We were in the main street, where my mother had taken me. Perhaps some image of it had communicated itself to the eagle’s mind, so that she had known where I wanted to go, even though I’d spoken no words.

  I unhooked my feet and slid off my mount’s back. Here the air was mild, like a summer evening. Nearby, a fountain played, tinkling musically. There was a waft of perfume in the air from some unseen flower. I threw back my cloak and breathed deeply.

  Then I waited.

  My rational mind told me I was doing something incredibly foolish. The magical bird was sure to appear, and I had no magic in me at all, and no mage to protect me. If I were taken, no one would know where I was or what had happened to me. Arran would wake up to find me gone, the guards would swear I never left the apartment – it would be just like Ly-haam’s disappearance. Perhaps they would even blame him. No one would think to look here.

  But I’d felt incredible after the last encounter, overflowing with energy, and I wanted so badly to feel that way again. I craved that sensation as I’d once craved my mother’s magic. I hadn’t planned this, but now that I was here, I hadn’t the willpower to leave.

  So I stood, a little distance from the eagle, waiting.

  And the bird came. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel its magic. Just as I was aware of the magic stored in a mage’s vessel, so I was aware of the much larger reservoir of power in this creature. I turned towards it, like a flower lifting its face to the sun. Closer and closer, and then—

  It was like being struck by lightning. Or rather, what I imagine that would be like. A bolt of pure magical power, surging through me, cascading into every part of me. I laughed for sheer joy.

  The best of it was, I expected it this time, so it didn’t incapacitate me. My legs were a little shaky, but I managed to walk back to the eagle, those yellow eyes still fixed on me. I wondered if she approved or disapproved, or had no opinion at all. Or whether Ly might be watching – but no, I could detect no trace of him. Still, she might be able to show him what had happened, from her memory. I didn’t care, though.

  I laughed again, and, with some difficulty, for my legs wouldn’t quite work as they should do, I mounted her.

  “Take me back to the Keep,” I ordered, and with a single bound she was away. As we turned, I saw the lights of the Imperial City still shining below me.

  I was lucky, or perhaps my night guards were unusually lax, but they were still loitering round the corner out of sight when I returned to the apartment. I crept in, shutting the door silently behind me. I looked in on Arran, but he was still fast asleep.

  There was no way I could sleep. I was far too energised for that. A restless fever had me pacing back and forth, back and forth, like a caged lion, until the first hour bell sounded and I could go through to Arran, and expend some of my surplus energy.

  I kissed him out of
sleep, and he didn’t seem to mind waking to find me clambering all over him. So much magic roiling through me! It was almost as intense as my first encounter with Ly-haam, but without the terror, the sensation of falling, the compulsion. Every touch on my skin, every kiss, his every movement against me was hot, like flames warming me, leaving me shaking with desire. But where Ly-haam’s flames burned and shrivelled me, these were nothing but pleasure. The sweetness of honey, not the bitterness of a purgative. Everything about Arran was pleasure. And when he pushed himself into me… gods, it was so good! I closed my eyes and let the flames sweep me away to a place I’d never been before.

  Afterwards, as we lay gasping for breath, Arran said, “Well! You are on fire this morning, Drina. You can wake me that way any time you like.”

  He grinned wolfishly.

  14: A Discovery

  That winter was a strange one. With the army preparing for war, the town fell into a panic. Simple foods like flour or carrots were suddenly in short supply, and Yannassia had to release stores from the Keep to prevent prices from shooting up. Yet the farmers came and went as usual with their goods. Many people packed up and left Kingswell altogether, and headed south where they presumed it would be safer. My favourite silk merchant closed her doors and disappeared to some Icthari fastness. It was irritating, especially as no one was supposed to know about the war yet, and the nobles hadn’t even officially approved it.

  Yannassia and Zandara were both very calm about it.

  “We must continue as always,” Yannassia said. “That will reassure the people that there is no cause for alarm.”

  “These rumours and shortages will disappear when they are seen to be without foundation,” Zandara said. “We, of all people, must not panic. Above all, say nothing about our plans.”

  I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. After all, the preparations could hardly be hidden. Every smithy was working long hours to build stocks of swords. Extra fletchers, bowyers and saddlers had been brought in, additional horses acquired, and all the equipment for temporary camps ordered. Half the army would be going, and even if the details were hazy, every soldier knew something was going on, and was bound to pass the news along, in the greatest secrecy, of course. Inevitably, the rumours grew, and fear put the worst possible interpretation on them. Stories flew that we were about to be invaded from all points of the compass.