by Maggie Furey
Danel, the fool, had said she would rather die than ally herself with magic users, and had left, throwing away, as far as Kelon could see, the only chance the ferals had of building some kind of future for themselves. Now, Athina’s reply echoed over and over again in his mind as he looked around the wretched campsite.
‘Then die – if that is your choice.’
Danel should have listened to the Cailleach’s words, for they had not been a threat but a warning. If the band of outcasts were doing this badly in the summer, what would happen when autumn came, and winter? There would be no hope for them at all, and deep down inside, every one of them knew it.
Kelon stared into the fading embers of the campfire. Would that be his future? A short, nasty brutish life, followed by a squalid, painful death? But thinking of Athina and that ill-starred meeting nudged another thought into his mind. The Wizard Iriana had spoken of the fisherfolk, a settlement of free humans that lived along the coast near Tyrineld. What if the ferals could throw in their lot with them? It could mean proper care for the babies, the sick and the infirm, who otherwise would never live to see another spring. It could mean hope, a future, a chance to make something meaningful of their lives.
The Wizards had no Wild Hunt. If they had permitted the free settlement of fisherfolk to exist, then surely they must have a more lenient attitude towards humans than the Phaerie had? And the only Wizard he had ever met, the young woman Iriana, had seemed a very decent sort of person.
And living so close to Tyrineld, I would be close to Aelwen, and maybe have a chance to see her now and again . . .
No! Kelon reined in that runaway thought as soon as he realised where it was heading. He must forget Aelwen. She must have no influence over his decisions, must not be allowed to cloud his thinking. He must face, once and for all, that she was no longer part of his life. Even without her in the picture, however, surely the fisherfolk were the best possible hope for these hard-pressed refugees? Surely even Danel must agree with that? Feeling hopeful for the first time in many days, he got to his feet and went to find her.
She was standing beneath a tree a little way beyond the camp’s perimeter, her dirty, smudged skin and filthy clothing blending into the background so that she was effectively camouflaged. Save that her odour came to him on the breeze – and he was horrified to realise that by now he must smell just as bad – he would never have known she was there. Then a muttered curse gave her exact position away, and Kelon realised that she was also pondering the ferals’ options, and not finding any answers. As he approached her, she said, ‘There’s no point in sneaking up like that. I know you’re there.’
‘I was not sneaking.’ Immediately, Kelon felt himself go on the defensive. What was it about this wretched woman that could put his back up so easily? ‘I just had some thoughts about our future that might—’
‘Our future?’ She spat out the words as she spun to face him. In the darkness the expression on her face was difficult to read, but he could hear the venom in her voice. ‘You talk as if you belong with us, Kelon; well, you don’t. Evnas was right. I should never have let you stay with us. You’ve brought us nothing but bad luck from the minute we set eyes on you and—’
‘Oh, really?’ Kelon said coldly. ‘I wasn’t unlucky for you. It was very convenient that I came along at just the right time to take the blame for your poor leadership.’
He was expecting the blow that came at him out of the darkness, and stepped aside just in time to avoid the fist that went skinning past his face. ‘If it wasn’t for my leadership we would never have survived all this time,’ Danel snarled.
‘You’ve been lucky, that’s all, and if you don’t recognise that your luck has run out, then there’s no hope for any of us.’ His voice grew louder as his frustration increased. ‘The fact is, Danel, when you walked out of Athina’s meeting, you threw away our only hope of a future.’
‘You walked out of it too!’
‘Because I thought you had a plan! But ever since then we’ve done nothing but wander aimlessly around the forest, and what’s the point of that? Maybe you can tell me, because I just don’t know any more. Yesterday we lost Hilya and her baby, and no wonder neither of them survived the birth—’
‘And that’s my fault, is it?’
‘You’re the leader, so the final responsibility rests with you.’ Kelon knew this bitter quarrel wasn’t helping anyone, but now that he had started he couldn’t seem to stop. ‘We have people sick and injured. Now that Athina’s supplies have run out we’re starving again, and this is summer, the best time of year for surviving in the woods. What’s going to happen to us when winter comes?’
‘What would have happened anyway. Do you really think that Athina and her companions were in the least bit interested in what happened to us? It would have been Ferimon all over again. They would have used us while it suited them and then left us to our fate, so we’re better off without them.’
‘I don’t see how.’ Kelon started to pace, his movements jerky with anger.
‘And I don’t know why you are putting all the blame on me.’ Now Danel’s voice was rising too. ‘You wouldn’t have stayed with Athina’s lot in any case – you said so at the time. You made it quite clear to us all that you wanted nothing more to do with that lover of yours.’ A sneer curled through her voice. ‘Oh no, I forgot – she wasn’t your lover, was she? She wasn’t interested in you at all, and I’m not surprised.’
The image of ploughing his fist into her face rose up in him so vividly that it shocked Kelon into taking a step back from her. What sort of monster was he turning into? Soon he’d be no better than the others. ‘You’re not even worth my anger,’ he snarled. ‘The Phaerie always said that mortals were no better than animals, and the more time I spend with you and your followers, the more you prove me right.’
He turned on his heel and walked away through the trees, back to the ashes of the campfire and all the slumbering, blanket-draped forms that lay around it. Seemingly most of the weary ferals had slept through his fight with Danel, though in the end the pair had been too furious with one another to keep their voices down. Some of the sentries must have heard them, however, and Kelon had no doubt that the entire tale, with a number of embellishments, would be all around the camp before tomorrow morning’s sun had cleared the treetops.
The fire was almost dead now. Kelon looked at the sleepers all around him and felt a weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. It wasn’t their fault they were ignorant. They had been raised as beasts and treated like beasts by the Phaerie. Was it any wonder that they seemed incapable of thinking for themselves?
Ignorance is one thing, but there’s no excuse for stupidity. Surely it must be obvious that we need to keep the fire going, both for warmth and protection from wild beasts.
Kelon answered his own critical thought. Is it, though? Would it be obvious to an animal? To a cow, say, or a sheep? Of course it wouldn’t.
But mortals aren’t the same as cows or sheep. They have a language and communicate with one another. They are capable of carrying out quite complex tasks if someone tells them how. They can cooperate with one another if the circumstances demand it.
They bury their dead.
They grieve.
So what were they, these mortals? Not the same as the more evolved beings in the magic-using races, but different from the lower beasts. Where did they fit into the scheme of things? What would be their ultimate fate? Was this the only group in which the seeds of rebellion were growing, or was it all part of a general trend?
Kelon shook his head. This was not the time for such abstract speculation. Right now, there was the practical matter of the fire to be attended to, and it looked as though that was up to him. It was hard to find wood in the shadowy darkness of the midnight forest, and more than once he found himself wishing that the Phaerie night vision was as good as that of the Wizards. Nevertheless, he could see better in the dark than the humans, and managed to collect a g
ood armful of the precious fuel before making his way back to the campsite. By the time he had nursed the fire back to life, he felt leaden with weariness, and more than ready to join the sleepers that surrounded him. Pulling his cloak around himself tightly, he curled up and closed his eyes, longing to escape in sleep from the turmoil of anger and worry in his mind.
He awoke with a jolt from a nightmare of running endlessly through the forest, to find that the sky was beginning to lighten with the approach of dawn, and he was no longer alone. Danel had emerged from the forest and sat down beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at her. Her posture was tense and changing expressions flashed across her face; her anger at war with sorrow, weariness and frustration. Her shoulders were hunched, as though the burdens of leadership were a physical weight crushing down upon her, and Kelon realised how much it must be costing her, and how utterly desolate and desperate she must be feeling, to have taken that first step towards a tentative reconciliation.
Somehow they had come to need one another in the days since they’d been thrown together. Inept though they were, Kelon depended on the ferals for his survival now, yet he had no illusions about how long he would last among them without Danel’s support and protection. She needed him because the position of leader was such a lonely one. She dared not let herself become too friendly with any of the other ferals because it would weaken her position. In that way, the Phaerie had been right about the mortals being no more than mere beasts, he mused. Left to their own devices, the ferals had devolved into little more than a pack of wild animals, and, like any pack leader, Danel could have her authority challenged at any time. In Kelon she had found someone who was no danger to her, yet was far better educated and more knowledgeable about the wider world than herself; someone with whom she could discuss ideas and air her concerns and frustrations, someone with whom she could let her guard down, someone to ease the loneliness of command a little . . .
When he wasn’t attacking her himself, he thought, with a pang of shame.
Fate had thrown them together. They didn’t even particularly like one another, yet they needed each other, and any schism between them endangered them both. Kelon sighed. He knew what he must do. In returning to the fire Danel had made the first move. Much as it rankled, it was his turn now.
He held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘It was just so dreadful – one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, burying that newborn child yesterday. It’s been preying on my mind ever since, but I had no right to take it out on you. I know you’re doing the best you can.’
‘Am I?’ Her tone was thick with bitterness. ‘You were right, Kelon. I’m the leader, and every one of those deaths is on my conscience. I’ve done precious little for my people since I took over, and that weighs heavy; you’ve no idea how heavy. I was taking my frustrations out on you, too. The truth is, I don’t know which way to turn now; what to do for the best.’
In the light of the fireglow, Kelon smiled. ‘You know, I might be able to help you with that. I was thinking, earlier, and I had this idea . . .’
15
~
DEPARTURE
It was well before sunrise on the day he was due to leave the tower, and the sky was just beginning to grow light, when Dael, carrying his pack and gear and still half-asleep, crept out into the magical predawn stillness. He had come out alone to take a last look around, and say goodbye to the place that had been the only true home he’d ever known. The faint breeze was moist, cool and fragrant with scents of forest, water and grass, and a scattering of the brighter stars were still visible in a lilac-coloured sky.
Dael thought of Athina, saviour, friend, a mother to an orphan slave, and wondered where she was now, how she was faring, and whether she missed him as much as he missed her.
The Cailleach had impressed upon him that everyone must be out of the tower by sunrise on the third day after she’d left. ‘In my absence, my concealment spells will become effective,’ she had warned him. ‘Essentially, there will no longer be a building there.’
‘But what will become of it?’ Dael had said. ‘Won’t it just become invisible?’
Athina had smiled. ‘I think you would find it very difficult and inconvenient to live in an invisible tower. Besides, any curious Phaerie or Wizard might quite literally bump into it.’ She shook her head. ‘That would be a disaster. If either race discovered it, they would never rest until they had found a way to plunder all its secrets. No, we must do better than that, my Dael. I plan to enclose the whole edifice, garden and all, in a small bubble of time which I will shunt a little way out of the normal timestream – literally bend time around this location. Any intruder will only see the island as it was before the tower existed, or will be after it is gone. That’s the way it must be, dear one, though I’m very sorry that you will lose your home. But if the Phaerie or Wizards should discover this place, do you think for one moment that they would let you stay here in peace? That is why I asked Iriana to take you with her, and protect you from being turned back into a slave again.’
Dael swallowed against a lump in his throat, but as well as sadness, there was also fear in his heart. For a little while he’d had a place to shelter him, and a beloved guardian who loved him, and protected him from the usual fate of his kind. To find this haven of comfort and happiness, only to have it snatched away from him, seemed too cruel to bear.
‘Why don’t you just destroy the tower?’ he had asked, desperate to take his mind from his plight. ‘What’s the point of taking it out of time if neither of us can return?’
‘Good question.’ Athina nodded her approval. ‘Let me see if I can explain in simple terms. If I were to destroy or obliterate the building, then this location would revert to what it was: an ordinary island on a lake. But if the tower is, in effect, still in place but simply displaced in time, a resonance will remain; a residual field of magic: the potentiality of a tower, if you will. Iriana or Corisand, or even their descendants, will be able to draw on that power, that potentiality – if they ever work out how to utilise it.’ She sighed. ‘Call it a parting gift from me to them, and to their world. Besides—’ Suddenly she looked up at him and for an instant her eyes regained their defiant old fire. ‘I may be forbidden to return here, but why burn all my bridges? You never know what may happen in the future, Dael. You never know.’
Which is all very well, Dael thought, as he returned to the lonely present of that bleak, chill dawn, and the continued ache of the Cailleach’s absence. But unless Athina can return in my lifetime, it won’t make a single bit of difference to me.
He looked around at the sound of voices to see Iriana and Corisand coming out of the tower carrying the last of their belongings, with Melik perched, as usual, on the Wizard’s shoulder to act as her eyes. Neither of them looked cheerful. They’d only had a little time in which to recover from their last ordeal in the Elsewhere, and there was a wan fragility, almost a hint of transparency, about both of them that Dael did not like.
Dael didn’t know a lot about magic, but even he could sense the power of the Stone, a strange pressure, like walking into a tingling gale. Now that Corisand had joined her own magic with that of the Fialan in order to help her to change form, and perform the flying spell, it seemed as if a kind of merging had taken place between them, and he could see that Corisand was having difficulty containing all the energy. A pulsing aureole of emerald light surrounded her, shining through and around her form, and her struggle to keep it damped and under control was written clearly in the lines of her face. He wondered how long she could continue to bear such a burden. Knowing her strength of will, he would wager on it being long enough – especially as she had himself and Iriana to help her. She had certainly lost no time in learning to use the Stone. The first time she’d used it to take to the skies, the feat had stolen his breath away, though he didn’t like to think about the implications.
Yesterday, following her triumphant flight, the Windeye had rested for a while befor
e repeating the spell, this time extending it to the roan mare Rosina, the only other Xandim horse that was still with them. Following the success of this second venture, she had come to her companions with a new plan. Together they would fly to the place where they had arranged to meet Aelwen and Taine; Iriana riding Corisand, and Dael on Rosina. It would save them days of dangerous travel through the forest, and give them an unexpected and welcome edge when rescuing the Xandim. Furthermore, they would no longer have to depend on Tiolani to perform the flying magic to assist Corisand’s people in their escape. Though she had given her word, they all had doubts that Hellorin’s daughter could be trusted. Though it was certainly the best plan, Dael had his own misgivings. Apart from a few quick lessons with Corisand and Iriana over the last couple of days, when they had been able to spare the time, he had never ridden a horse before. On the ground was one thing – he thought he might be able to manage, with a bit of luck – but flying all the way up in the air was an entirely different matter. He only hoped that he would be able to stay on.
The Wizard and the Windeye greeted him, their voices hushed. ‘It’s almost sunrise,’ Iriana said. Melik, draped around her shoulders as usual, turned his head so that she could look at the tower. ‘This place is so big and solid. It’s still hard to believe it can just vanish.’
‘It’s not vanishing exactly. Athina said she was removing it a step beyond our normal flow of time, so it would be there, but it wouldn’t.’ Dael tried his best to explain, but he wasn’t sure if he really understood it himself. Suddenly he resented them being there. This place was his home. If he had to lose it, had to see it disappear, then he wanted to be alone to grieve for all that he had lost. He turned away from Corisand and Iriana abruptly. ‘I’ll go and fetch the other horses.’