Heritage Of The Xandim
Avithan, dismayed and ashamed, rubbed a hand across his face. He couldn’t say anything just yet. Esmon had given him too much to think about.
‘Think about it in the morning,’ the Warrior advised him, ‘but right now, get some sleep. You still have a watch to stand tonight.’
Oblivious to what was going on in the tents, Iriana continued her watch, using Seyka to keep an eye on the retreating bears. When the female and her offspring had gone far upriver, there seemed to be nothing left to worry about - but something was puzzling her.
Melik was acting strangely. Usually, her bond with the cat was so close that he would look in whatever direction she wished, but tonight she found that wherever she pointed him, his gaze was soon dragged back to the same place: a tall chestnut tree directly across the clearing from the tents. Several times, Iriana sent Seyka to investigate the area, but the owl found nothing out of the ordinary.
Iriana fought a hard inner battle with herself. She writhed at the thought of waking Esmon over such a stupid thing. She kept sending her owl to check the tree and its surrounding area, and clearly, there was nothing there. Nevertheless, she could not shake off the uneasy sensation of being watched, and a growing feeling, like ice sheeting across her bones, that some dreadful evil lurked close at hand.
Much as she resented looking like a fool, Esmon’s words came back to her: ‘If you see or hear anything - anything - suspicious, wake the others at once.’
Reluctantly, Iriana decided to rouse the Warrior. He had the experience to decide whether the unease of the cat and its owner was a sensible warning or a foolish fancy.
Using mindspeech to conceal from the intruder - if intruder there was - that she knew of its presence, she called the Warrior. Instantly he was wide awake and reaching for his staff. ‘Wait,’ she said, forestalling him just in time from hurtling out of the tent. ‘Stay there, Esmon.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Esmon was using the same mode of silent communication.
‘I’m not sure,’ Iriana admitted, embarrassment warming her face. Quickly she told the Warrior Wizard about Melik’s suspicious reaction, and her own uneasy feelings.
‘I’m coming.’ Esmon crawled out of his tent, yawned and stretched in a casual manner - though Iriana noticed his eyes darting around as he did so - and sauntered over to the fire to sit beside her. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said aloud. ‘Thought I’d keep you company for a while.’ In mindspeech he added: ‘I can’t find the source, but you’re right. There’s danger near. We’ll watch and wait for a while.’
Dhagon crept through the undergrowth on soft and silent feet, guided by a drifting tendril of sharp-scented woodsmoke. His prey could not be far away now. Where most hunters would be experiencing fast-beating hearts and the tension and excitement of anticipation, this killer maintained his icy calm. His lips tightened in a cold, cruel smile as he thought of the oblivious Wizards up ahead. They were about to learn the hard way not to interfere in Phaerie concerns.
As usual, Dhagon was travelling alone. Though he had trained an efficient pack of spies and assassins in Hellorin’s service, he had not brought any of them with him. For one thing, he preferred to work alone; for another, this matter was far too delicate to trust to anyone else. Only he and Tiolani knew where he was and what he planned to do, and it was vitally important that he gain her trust by succeeding in this mission. Though he was acting on her instructions, however, he had his own objectives to fulfil.
He felt no particular loyalty towards his new ruler, and he certainly did not trust her. Long ago he had sworn an oath of allegiance to Hellorin, and though he was incapacitated at present, Dhagon had never given up hope of seeing him restored to health and power. He knew perfectly well that the healers should have effected a cure, or at least some considerable improvement in the Forest Lord’s condition by now, and he recognised the stench of treachery when he smelled it. He had tried many times to reach his Lord, but the sickroom was so well guarded that it defied even his skills. Day or night, Hellorin was never left alone for a single moment, and the chamber had been warded against any use of spells from the outside. Furthermore, the old, loyal guard had all been replaced, and several - those who had been asking too many questions - had either met with accidents or, in certain cases, had simply vanished under mysterious circumstances. Clearly, Ferimon was at the heart of the plot, but how deeply was Tiolani involved? Only by gaining her trust could Dhagon discover the truth, hence the need to make a success of this mission. And there was no doubt in his mind that he would succeed. The Wizards would not live to see another dawn.
He climbed into a twisted old tree and lay among the branches cloaked under a camouflage spell, watching the scene below. From his high perch, he had an unimpeded view of the enemy encampment. Three small, lightweight tents made of moonmoth silk, bespelled to take on the colour of their surroundings, were barely visible in a semicircle around the edge of the clearing. Loose gear such as the travellers’ packs, the horses’ tack and utensils for cooking and eating, were stored nearby beneath a tarpaulin, for the shelters were so cramped that there was no room for anything more than a single person inside. On the other side of the clearing from the tents, taking advantage of the fire’s protection from wild animals, the four horses were picketed.
He had been watching for some time, and listening to their careless chatter as they made camp. Only three of them - one a blind girl who fawned over a bunch of filthy animals, and would be absolutely useless if it came to a fight. He could pick them off at any time - but he had decided to wait a little longer. Already, he had discovered one or two startling facts, such as the presence of the Archwizard’s son, and the ability of the girl to use the magic of all four elements, instead of just the one.
Dhagon’s plan had already changed. He wanted to shadow them, to see what other vital information they might inadvertently reveal. There was no hurry, after all. Then, when he was ready, he would strike.
23
THE SHINING MOUNTAIN
The Windeye was becoming desperate. Everything was going wrong. Why couldn’t Aelwen and Kelon just leave her alone? She had no intention of letting any of the Xandim stallions near her at this time; yet judging by what the Horsemistress and her assistant had been saying, who knew what her fate might be if she did not cooperate? Time was running out, and she was still unable to get back to the Elsewhere and regain her powers. Why didn’t Taku and Aurora summon her? Surely it must be safe to let her return by now?
Flicking her tail irritably at a cloud of flies, Corisand moved out of the blinding noon sunshine into the shade of the trees. She thought wistfully of the lake in the Elsewhere with its shimmering glacial waters the misty colour of blue chalcedony, surrounded by deep, dark-green coniferous forests with the snowy mountains towering beyond. How her heart yearned towards the place. If only she could be there now, learning from Taku and Aurora, the awe-inspiring Evanesar. She could be developing her powers and practising her skills instead of wasting her time as a captive in this miserable, magicless place.
Even as she longed for that lovely lakeside, with the magnificent glacier towering like a great white cliff on the other side, Corisand felt her world give that odd little sideways jerk, followed by the uncanny twisting sensation deep within her. Almost before her spirits had time to give a joyous leap, she found herself stepping hurriedly through the mist and out into the grassy clearing that stretched back from the lake into the trees.
This time, the bipedal body was familiar; she felt easy and at home in it. She marvelled at the smile that had spread across her face when she’d found herself back, at last, in this marvellous and longed-for place. How amazing it was, this new body. All those tiny facial muscles that could make a million infinitesimal changes in her expression, just to reflect the emotions that were playing in her mind. She stretched tall; felt the tingle of her magic running through her body. She couldn’t wait to use it again.
Alight with anticipation, the Windeye reached down into her cent
re to the radiant essence of her magic and felt the power flare up within her, flooding her body and mind. Once again the arcane vision of her Othersight turned her eyes to silver. She saw the mountains become dazzling prisms blazing with a host of rainbow colours; the crystalline shimmer of the lake; the jewelled trees and grass. Across the lake, the breathtaking blue of the glacier’s heart now coloured its entire winding length.
Corisand looked up at the glowing streams of wind that swirled over the lake, and with a delighted laugh, reached up to snatch a handful of the fluid strands into which she poured her Othersight. In response, they blazed incandescent silver, and once again she spun them out across the lake to form her bridge.
Before she had reached the other side, the great serpent, its coils the dazzling white reared up to meet her. ‘Greetings, my friend Windeye,’ Taku said, his blue eyes glittering. ‘It is good to see you once again.’
Pure, scintillating colour flashed across the sky, with drifting curtains of emerald and ruby, sapphire, amethyst and iridescent diamond. Vast wings stretched from horizon to horizon as the immense form of a golden-eyed eagle materialised from the veils of rippling light. ‘Hail, little sister.’ Aurora called out her greeting. ‘Welcome back to the Elsewhere.’
Their friendship wrapped around Corisand like a warm cloak, filling her with the joy of belonging. ‘I feel as if I’ve come home,’ she said softly.
‘You have, in a way,’ Taku told her. ‘To your heart’s home, at least.’
‘But your chief place is still in the mundane world,’ Aurora warned. ‘There lies your future, and the great task of liberating your people.’
Corisand had not yet become accustomed to controlling those strange and wayward facial expressions to conceal her feelings, and her disappointment must have shown in her expression, for the eagle added: ‘But always remember, little sister, that in freeing your people you also free yourself. Once you can occupy this body in your own world, you will have your powers at your fingertips there as well as here, so that you can use them to come to the Elsewhere whenever you like.’
‘And there will always be a welcome here for you,’ Taku added. ‘Until then, however, we must make the most of your brief visits. If you truly intend to take the Fialan from Ghabal, you will have to develop your powers, Windeye. You have much to learn, and we must teach you all we can.’
Corisand felt her heart give a bound of excitement. Sternly she tried to tell herself that this was serious business, that what she would learn here could save her life and dictate the future of her entire race, but still she could not control the thrill of excitement that passed through her. As a horse, she’d had no concept of gifts, but she realised now that what Taku and Aurora proposed to give her would be an offering of infinite value. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you both. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.’
‘Then let us begin,’ Taku said.
Aurora looked down at the Windeye with her piercing, golden gaze. ‘I will teach you your first skill, little sister. Though you will need to learn to fight, it is sometimes far better if you can pass by your enemies unseen. I will show you how your magic can be used to hide you whenever there is need.’ She flexed her great wings, and ripples of colour chased across the sky. ‘Let us begin with your feet on the ground. Then you can avoid the distraction and drain of maintaining your bridge, for at first, the task in hand will take all your concentration.’
Everything blurred, and Corisand found herself standing back on the grassy swathe by the lakeshore, with the image of the serpent still towering up from the glacier, and the form of the eagle stretching across the sky.
‘Now, take back your bridge,’ Aurora commanded.
For a moment, Corisand was nonplussed. She had managed to create the structure without too much difficulty, but how did she go about taking it back?
‘Be at ease,’ Taku said softly. ‘In your heart you know what to do.’
The Windeye knew she must relax and let her instincts take over. Countless generations of Windeyes had lived before her. Surely their knowledge must be imprinted in her mind, her heart, her soul - even her very bones. So . . . Logically, taking back the structure must mean doing the opposite of what she’d done when she created it. She steadied herself with a deep breath and lifted her hands towards the bridge, her fingers spread wide. This time, instead of reaching deep within to the core of her power, she opened herself out, embracing the magic of her bridge. Letting it flood into her, she gathered it and folded it back within herself. Gradually, the elegant, gleaming arch vanished, leaving a ghostly image of itself etched upon the air in a shimmer of silver sparks that were caught up by the rivers of wind and blown away.
‘Excellent.’ Taku’s voice echoed approvingly across the lake.
‘Well done, little sister,’ Aurora said, ‘but that was the easy part.’
Corisand schooled her features into a motionless mask, so as not to reveal her irritation. ‘I’m ready when you are.’
‘Are you, indeed?’ There was a ripple across Aurora’s veils of colour that might have been laughter. ‘Well, we shall see. Now,’ she continued, ‘I want you to take some air and spin it, as you did when you were making your bridge.’
Obediently, Corisand gathered handfuls of streaming air, feeling their cool smoothness twine like silk around her fingers. Pouring her Othersight into them, she spun them into a whirling silver disc that hovered in the air in front of her.
‘Now, you see those shadows, down to your right beneath the trees?’
The Windeye spared a glance from her spell, and nodded.
‘Good,’ said the eagle. ‘Now, go over there, snatch up the shadows and weave them into your disc.’
‘What?’ Corisand was so startled that she lost concentration on her disc. The glimmering form shredded and was borne away on the currents of air. ‘Curse it. Now I’ll have to begin again. But before I start, what in the world am I supposed to do with a bunch of shadows?’
‘It’s perfectly simple,’ Aurora said. ‘All you have to do is snatch the shadows in the same way you pick up the wind. Then you weave them into your disc.’
‘Can I do that?’ the Windeye asked in astonishment.
‘Why don’t you try it and see?’
‘Very well,’ said Corisand, a little doubtfully. With all her concentration, she spun her silver disc once more. When she had it well established, spinning slowly in the air in front of her like a great silver wheel, she skewed a glance out of the corner of her eye towards the shadows that gathered beneath the trees. She reached out for them, tried to incorporate them - only to have the entire construct collapse on her again. ‘Pox on it!’ The curses she had learned from her grooms while wearing her equine shape came easily to her when she was in this form.
Corisand gritted her teeth - another thing this human body seemed to do instinctively - and started again. And again, and again. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to gather the two components of her spell together without losing one or both. It was galling, it was frustrating, and she was beginning to tire, but she refused to give in. This was her first spell of any complexity - what would happen if she failed? She was not only responsible for herself, but for all the Xandim. Whatever the cost, she could not let herself be beaten.
After several more attempts, Corisand’s temper was at boiling point, with this world and its insane challenges, with Aurora and her ridiculous, impossible demands - and most of all with her maladroit self. What was worse, with every botched attempt, she could feel her confidence slip a little. She knew in her heart that she had to accomplish this soon, or she would never manage at all. And once she failed at one piece of magic . . .
‘Perhaps this was not such a good spell with which to begin, Aurora,’ Taku said gently from the sidelines. ‘I would suggest that we work on something else, and return to this later.’
‘That’s all very well,’ the eagle argued, ‘but the way things stand at present, the ability to conceal he
rself may well save her life.’
Corisand closed her eyes and tried to shut out the sound of their bickering. Humiliated beyond bearing, determined that she wouldn’t let herself be beaten by a simple spell, she steeled herself to try again, despite the insidious suspicion that Taku might have been right, despite the weariness of body, mind and spirit that was slowly seeping through her. Why did this have to be so bloody hard? Her mind went back to her first serious spell, the construction of her bridge across the lake to Taku’s glacier. She remembered the ease of it, the sheer exuberant joy of being able to let her magic loose at last . . .