Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.)

by Maggie Furey

  It was her decision, her flight, her theft of the Xandim horses that had precipitated Tiolani’s pursuit of her, Kelon running off to join a bunch of vicious mortal outlaws, Ferimon’s bloody death – but this last gave Aelwen the jolt she needed to rein in her runaway thoughts. Ferimon’s death had been a blessing; he was a traitor whose evil acts had almost slain the Forest Lord. His unsavoury influence had subverted Tiolani, had robbed her of her innocence, leading the naive young girl down a path of bloodshed and destruction. In bringing about Ferimon’s demise at Kelon’s hands, Aelwen had saved the Phaerie from a dire fate indeed. Tiolani’s folly was on his head, and her own, and had nothing – or little, at least – to do with Aelwen’s decision to flee. Kelon’s choice in following the outlaw leader Danel and her ragged band had been his own decision.

  As for herself, Aelwen had not left Eliorand to search for Taine. She had fled in fear of her life as Tiolani became increasingly unstable and started killing Hemifae because they carried mortal blood as well as Phaerie. Now, the only question that remained was whether she had made the right choice in cleaving to Taine rather than Kelon. Had she abandoned the one who loved her unreservedly, even though she could never quite return his feelings in the same way, to pursue a stranger, a dream, an illusion – or a joyous reality? She looked across at Taine, so steady, so focused, all his concentration bent to the task in hand, his keen eyes endlessly scanning the skies and the forest all around to find a frightened young girl and save her from an unspeakable fate. She looked at him – and in that moment she thought she knew the answer.

  ‘Look! What’s that? Over there.’ Taine had risen in his stirrups and was pointing towards the north-west, where a thin, dark, oily-looking thread of smoke was rising above the trees. It was most likely just another band of feral mortals making camp, but as one they turned towards the sinister beacon, praying that they had found the Wizard.

  It wasn’t really a clearing; just a narrow slot where a great tree had fallen, bringing down two or three others with it. The ground was a leg-breaking tangle of dead and rotting boughs, weeds, brambles and scrawny saplings that had taken advantage of the extra light and seeded themselves among the bones of the recumbent giants. Trails of crushed and splintered vegetation indicated where the Phaerie steeds had fled and there was a larger churned and trampled patch which was surrounded by a number of charred and blackened areas. The acrid smell of smoke and the sickening stench of burned flesh dimmed the air with a choking haze, though there was now no sign of any flames.

  There were two Phaerie corpses in the devastated area, one at the edge of the trees and the other nearer the centre of the open space. Both were hideously burned and disfigured, their bodies contorted by the agony of their deaths. A tangle of smouldering rope was all that remained of the net.

  In the centre of all the ruin lay Iriana, not far from the hollow where the roots of the mighty tree had been torn out of the ground. Her skin was sheet-white beneath the smudges of charcoal and smoke, and her life blood pumped slowly out from a long, deep gash in her arm, and soaked into the ground beneath. She was guarded by two of the biggest eagles that Corisand had ever seen. One stood over her body, its wings mantled protectively, while the other, more cautious, perched in a tree nearby.

  The Windeye, transfixed with horror, made a stumbling, clumsy landing, and staggered to regain her balance. She was already shifting back into her human form when the others came down beside her and crowded forward – only to halt as the eagle opened its wings and gave a harsh, threatening cry.

  The lid of Melik’s basket had sprung open. ‘No – it’ll get him!’ Dael shouted in dismay as the cat leapt out and rushed towards the eagle. Corisand spun a spear of air to knock the bird away, but even as she did it the eagle lowered its head with that lethal, curving beak – and rubbed it along Melik’s flank. The cat arched his back against the caress, raised his tail, and purred like thunder, then moved aside to nose at Iriana.

  ‘Wait, wait, it must be Boreas,’ Corisand shouted. ‘It’s Iriana’s eagle, that left her to find a mate.’

  Taine, who’d had his bow poised to shoot, paused, though his arm still strained against the string. ‘Well, we’ve got to get it away from her,’ he said urgently. ‘She’s bleeding to death down there.’

  To his surprise, Dael found himself stepping forward. He called to Melik and the cat left Iriana’s still form and ran back to him, leaping up into his arms. Carrying Melik he approached the eagle cautiously, but since the cat clearly trusted him, Boreas seemed content to let him pass.

  As he dropped to his knees beside the Wizard the others crowded in as quickly as they dared, still wary of the fierce guardian, but the bird drew back a little and took to the air, landing on one of the upthrust roots from the fallen tree, which placed him uncomfortably above the heads of Iriana’s kneeling companions. Corisand could feel his fierce golden eyes burning into her, and knew that if Boreas sensed any threat towards Iriana, he was ready to strike.

  Everyone clustered around Iriana, kneeling on the ground that was wet and sticky with her blood. Taine put a hand to her throat, feeling for a pulse. ‘It’s faint but it’s there. She’s still alive, but for how long? From my Wizard heritage I know enough to slow the bleeding a little, but I’m no Healer . . .’

  ‘I am.’ Kaldath, who did not know Iriana, had been standing back to give her friends room, but now he came forward and the others pressed closer together to make a space for him.

  ‘Can you help her, Kaldath?’ Corisand asked urgently. ‘Can you?’

  The ancient one laid his hands on Iriana’s wounded arm. He drew in a deep breath and grew very still. Even Dael could feel the prickling build-up of magic radiating from the old man.

  ‘As some of you already know, I am like Taine,’ Kaldath said, and though he spoke aloud his eyes remained distant in concentration, ‘a Hemifae with Wizard blood, from my mother. According to my father she had a singular Healing gift, and passed it on to me.’

  While he spoke, the lethal gush of blood from Iriana’s arm died away to a trickle, then an ooze, then stopped completely. ‘Though I had no formal training, my father had all the old Healing journals my mother had kept while she was at the Academy, and afterwards. Even when I was young I loved to read them. It seemed to bring me closer to her; as though I could hear her voice speaking to me from the past.’

  A shimmering blue-violet glow suffused the Wizard’s torn flesh, and before the eyes of the astonished observers, the ugly gash began to close. ‘My father made me keep my skill a secret, lest the other Phaerie discover my Wizard heritage, so I practised on animals, and it was only when I was sent as Overseer to the mines that my skills finally came into play. Even to the Dwelven, those tunnels were a desperately dangerous place, but Hellorin never cared if his slaves were injured or died. There were always plenty of replacements. As time went on I saved many lives, and gradually the Dwelven came to trust me, and became like a family to me, despite their alien forms.’

  Kaldath breathed in deeply once more. The wound was completely closed now, a long red scar the only sign that it had ever been there. ‘Now,’ the ancient one said, ‘I will use Healing magic to accelerate the production of new blood in Iriana’s body. Anyone who wants to help can feed their power into me, so that I can help Iriana replenish her life force and her energy.’

  Eagerly, Corisand reached out a hand, but he drew back. ‘Take off the Fialan, my dear. The Stone of Fate contains too much raw power for such a delicate operation. You run the risk of burning out Iriana – or myself, as the conduit.’ He smiled at her as she hastily pulled the thong over her head and tucked the leather pouch safely away in her pack. ‘Your own not inconsiderable magic will more than suffice, O Windeye of the Xandim.’

  ‘Take some of mine, too,’ said Aelwen, stretching out her hand.

  ‘And mine,’ Taine added. ‘We all want to be part of this. We all want to help.’

  ‘If only I had some magic,’ Dael said disconsolately.
‘I feel so useless.’

  ‘You? Useless? Never.’ Corisand spoke briskly. ‘You too are filled with the force of life, Dael, just as much as any of us. Your love will be the conduit. Hold Iriana’s hand, and send love flowing into her as we work. Lend her your strength. It will help, I promise.’

  Dael, his face brightening, reached out and grasped the Wizard’s cold hand. He sent his love and strength into her; imagined it filling her with energy as the others fed their power into Kaldath, who had laid his hands over Iriana’s stumbling heart. For the space of a few heartbeats time seemed to stand still as they were all united, as one, a single glorious entity linked by purpose, selflessness and love.

  After a time, Iriana began to breathe more easily. The colour crept back into her face, and the ghastly transparency of impending death ebbed away from her skin. Suddenly her eyes flew open. Melik pushed between Taine and Dael, and as his eyes went round them all, looking from one face to the next, it was clear that the Wizard was borrowing his sight once more. ‘You came,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Thank providence you came. You saved me.’ She tried to move, and winced. ‘Oh, festering bloody bat turds. I feel terrible.’

  With his free hand, Taine stroked her tangled hair. ‘You saved yourself, little sister,’ he told her. ‘We only finished the job off for you.’

  But Iriana did not hear him. Already she had slipped back into unconsciousness. Kaldath looked grave. ‘She’s far from out of danger yet,’ he said. ‘This poor girl is still fighting bravely, but she has lost so much blood, she barely has enough to sustain her life. To have any hope of saving her, we need somewhere sheltered and safe to tend her. Does anyone know of such a hiding place?’

  Taine nodded. ‘I always know where there’s a hiding place.’

  22

  ~

  GOOD INTENTIONS

  Back in Tyrineld, Tinagen let Brynne have the night to suffer. To wait, to reflect, to consider the enormity of what she’d done and wonder if she’d be expelled from the Academy. And she would be wondering, now that there had been time for her temper to subside. Furthermore, the gossip mills must be grinding overtime by now – in an enclosed community such as the Academy it was inevitable. Her fellow students would have heard the rumours, would be curious, would be asking questions.

  Tinagen smiled. She was prideful, was Brynne. He would make sure she had plenty of time and opportunities to feel humiliated.

  He looked out of his study window; saw the peaceful courtyard with its fountain glittering in the early morning light, and watched his Healers going back and forth about their business. Productive, busy, organised. He shuddered to think of the damage Brynne might do if he allowed her back. She had it in her to shatter this ordered little world in which he took such pride.

  For a moment he felt a prickle at the back of his neck; a shiver of prescience. He shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t let her come back. He just knew, in his bones, that it would be a terrible mistake. But war was brewing. A woman out of her mind with grief and thirsting for revenge, a woman who would stop at nothing to achieve it, was running the city. He had been arrested; had known fear and shame, had felt loss and grief. His world had been rocked on its foundations, and he was at his lowest ebb.

  So he let it slide.

  He would allow that little wretch to come back, and take care of Incondor. After all, what could it hurt? There would be plenty of opportunity to bring the girl into line, and he would have her watched constantly. With an effort he shook off the unease that dogged him when he thought of her. It was ridiculous, having an attack of the vapours because of a temperamental young girl. It was probably just a reaction to all the difficulties he had faced in the last few days. After all she was just a student, when all was said and done.

  Turning away from the window and its peaceful scene, he went to find Tameron, and arrange for someone to go and fetch Brynne.

  It had been the worst night of Chiannala’s life. She hadn’t slept, but had spent the hours weeping and pacing, worrying and fretting; berating herself for her stupidity and temper and staring, terrified, into the black abyss that was her future. The morning had proved even worse, as one by one her fellow students had come knocking at her door, all oozing what appeared to be sincere concern, but unable to hide the undertones of avid curiosity and relief that it was someone else in so much trouble, and not themselves.

  Chiannala hated the lot of them. Why should they have everything when she had nothing? She was a better Wizard than every last one of them, yet tomorrow they would still be here while she would be – where would she be? Her future gaped before her, a terrifying void, and she tasted bitterness down to the very dregs of her soul. By the time Tinagen’s summons came she had worked herself into such a state that it was almost a relief to be getting the dreaded interview over. Judging by the expressionless face and carefully hidden thoughts of the young Healer who’d been sent to fetch her, the rumours of her transgressions and her outburst had been winging round the Luen too, and the thought of them all discussing her behind her back made her writhe with shame.

  It felt like the longest walk she had ever taken. Before she faced Tinagen she tried to claw back some of her anger and defiance. Even in this extremity, her pride wouldn’t let her give in without a struggle. But Chiannala just didn’t have it in her. She was too exhausted, wretched and terrified to summon her usual fighting spirit, and before she reached the Luen she was forced to face the mortifying fact that she’d do anything – beg, plead, grovel, apologise, whatever it took – just to be allowed to stay.

  When she was shown into his room Tinagen was standing, staring out of the window, looking distant, cold and stern. He dismissed the messenger who’d brought her without even looking round, and when the young Healer had gone, closing the door behind him, the Luen Head remained where he was; silent, aloof and unwilling to acknowledge her with as much as a single glance.

  Chiannala waited, torn between dread of what she would hear when he finally spoke, and the need to have this torture end; to hear her fate and be done with the terrible uncertainty. But Tinagen remained distant and unspeaking, refusing to turn and acknowledge her. The minutes crawled by in an agony of suspense and Chiannala’s nerves stretched tighter and tighter. And still she waited, trembling now, dry-mouthed and with a hammering heart, until finally she could bear it no longer.

  Tears flooded her eyes as her self-control snapped at last. Her courage failed her, and the final shreds of her pride dissolved. ‘Oh sir,’ she cried, ‘I’m sorry. I’m truly, deeply sorry. Please don’t send me away.’

  Tinagen swung round to face her, his gaze flat and uncompromising. Again, he did not speak, but merely waited until the chasm of silence grew so deep that Chiannala felt compelled to rush in and fill it. She did not realise that she was doing exactly what he’d planned she should; she had no idea that before he dealt with her he needed to know exactly how repentant she really was, and that this was his way of accomplishing that goal. She only knew that her future at the Academy hung by the most slender of threads, and that this was her last and only chance to convince him to let her stay.

  ‘It was very, very wrong of me to speak to you, and to the other Healers, as I did yesterday – especially after you had just saved my life. You had every right to be angry. I acted foolishly, on impulse, going into Incondor’s mind like that, unprepared, untrained and—’

  ‘Why did you?’ Tinagen’s cold voice cut across her outpourings like a knife. ‘Such techniques are only ever attempted by our most skilled and experienced Healers. What possessed you, a new student with no training whatsoever, to even try such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’ Chiannala hung her head. ‘It just – felt – right. I looked at him and there was a kind of connection . . . I can’t explain.’ She clasped her hands, twisting her fingers nervously. ‘I acted on impulse: I knew he was slipping away and there wasn’t much time.’

  ‘How did you know what to do?’

  ‘I can’t s
ay, sir,’ she replied miserably. With every passing moment, it seemed more likely that he would cast her out. ‘As I said, I acted on impulse. I just seemed to know what to do, and where to go.’

  Tinagen left the window and sat down at his desk. ‘Sit.’ He gestured to the chair on the opposite side. She finally dared to lift her face and saw that, for the first time during their conversation, the hard, flat look had left his eyes. Now he seemed irritated and oddly resigned, and she wondered what it meant. Did she dare to hope? Chiannala held her breath.

  The Luen Head put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. ‘Brynne, one thing has been puzzling me, and also Melisanda, who conducted your initial interview and assessment for the Academy. At that time you were filled with enthusiasm. You said you couldn’t wait to become a Healer. Yet when you eventually came here as a student, you seemed aghast at being assigned to this Luen, and did everything in your power to resist the placement.’ His eyes drilled into her; piercing, penetrating, refusing to be denied. ‘Before we go any further I will have the truth from you. Why the sudden turnabout? What happened to bring about such an extreme change of heart?’

  Oh, curse that stupid Brynne!

  It was fortunate that Melisanda had already asked this, but had been distracted before receiving an answer. That had given Chiannala time to think of a response. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, innocent, then lowered her eyes as if ashamed. ‘I was afraid.’

  ‘Afraid?’ Tinagen barked, making her jump. ‘What do you mean, girl, afraid?’

  Deliberately, she bit her lip. ‘Well, sir, when I was growing up I always dreamed of becoming a Healer. I’d practise by taking care of the animals on the farm. I wanted to cure people, to help them.’ She looked up at him and forced a shimmer of tears into her eyes. ‘But when I came for that interview and actually saw the work you were doing, I suddenly realised what a terrifying responsibility a Healer carries, and what a heavy burden it must be to hold people’s lives in your hands, day after day. And I started thinking. What if I get it wrong; make mistakes? People would die and it would be my fault. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more afraid I became until I just couldn’t bear it any more, and it seemed that the only way to escape the fear was to run away from it; to do something else, to be something else. I told myself there would be other ways to help people, without putting their lives at stake.’ She blinked, let the tears roll down her cheeks and lowered her eyes again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.