Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.)

by Maggie Furey

  Iriana reacted instinctively. Extending her arms in front of her, palms up, she threw them up into the air. ‘Earth Rise!’ she commanded. A broad section of the forest heaved like a shaken quilt and rose up in a gigantic, cresting wave of soil, rocks and trees, that broke over Hellorin and came crashing down on top of his fiery tornado, smothering the flames.

  Iriana slumped over her horse’s neck, panting and shaking with weariness after such a gargantuan effort, but there was to be no respite. The mound of earth that had covered the Forest Lord erupted, exploding outwards in a shower of missiles that thundered down on the Wizard’s shield, and there stood Hellorin in the form of a gigantic wolf whose body seemed to be made up of savage black storm clouds, with blue-white lightning crawling all over his massive form. His eyes burned with a fearful red light as his fanged jaws opened in an ear-shattering snarl loud enough to echo halfway round the world.

  Before Iriana had time to act he sprang at her – but this time Dael kept his eyes fixed resolutely on the horror. The Fialan pulsed like a beating heart in the Wizard’s hand, and out of it soared a colossal eagle with outspread wings made of scintillating light. ‘Aurora!’ the Wizard gasped. Again and again the great bird struck at the wolf, its beak and talons extended, tearing great chunks out of the storm-wrought hide that bled lightning like rivers of searing blue-white fire. The great wings beat at Hellorin’s storm wolf, producing blinding lightning flashes that forced him back until, unable to hold the spell together against such an onslaught, the Forest Lord changed again and stood there in his own gigantic form, exerting all his powers of the Old Magic to shield himself against the eagle’s attack.

  Though hope leapt in Iriana’s heart, she knew the battle was far from over. She had him on the defensive now – but how much longer could she contain the power of the Stone of Fate? It burned and blazed throughout her body, wracking her with increasing pain as its power rose to meet the challenge of every spell and counterspell. Her entire body was being devoured by the Stone’s blazing emerald nimbus – how long could she hold herself together under such strain? Chill fear ran through her. Now she was fighting a battle on two fronts: to meet and counter the Phaerie Lord’s attacks, yet still stay strong enough to act as a conduit for the Fialan’s power.

  Then suddenly a hand reached out, firm and steadfast, and grasped her own. Iriana felt some of the pain subside as part of the surplus energy drained away into Dael.

  He mustn’t do this! Frantically, Iriana tried to pull her hand away. The last time Dael had handled the Stone he would have died, save for the intervention of Athina. But there was no going back now. The power of the Fialan linked them, and the tie could not be broken until the battle was done.

  Events were at a stalemate. The great eagle that represented Aurora’s magic had now been joined once more by Taku’s serpent of ice, but Hellorin was concentrating all his power on his shield, and even their conjoined spells could not penetrate the barrier. Iriana wondered if she could finish the fight with one sharp, concentrated blow, but that would leave her exposed and at Hellorin’s mercy if she failed. The risk either way was tremendous, for if she simply stood her ground, she risked burning out not only herself but the weaker mortal at her side.

  The Wizard had been concentrating so hard on her struggle with Hellorin that there had been no chance to watch the patch of instability that was spreading inexorably out from Eliorand. She reached a decision and gathered in all her will for one tremendous strike at the Forest Lord – and at that moment the circle of unreality reached them, engulfing both Lord of the Phaerie and Wizard in its shimmering wavefront.

  For an instant, Iriana was overcome by nausea and disorientation. She felt as if she were about to fly apart. Then suddenly the Stone of Fate seemed to pulse in her hand, and quite clearly she heard the mighty voice of Denali. ‘Fear not, little friend. This is my moment now. At last I can deal with the upstart Hellorin and his Phaerie folk.’

  Like a roaring torrent, the power of the Great One surged out of Iriana, engulfing Hellorin in blazing green light and spreading beyond him to encompass Eliorand and all its inhabitants. Then, as if the torrent had reversed direction, the massive magical force turned back and poured in the opposite direction – back through the Stone of Fate. Iriana felt herself expanding, diffusing into the great nimbus of emerald light that became a portal, a gateway into the realm of the Evanesar. Now she could feel the colossal power of Denali working through her, reaching out to Hellorin and his Phaerie realm, drawing them through her, back into the Elsewhere. Then suddenly the torrent was gone, the portal closed – and reality reasserted itself.

  Utterly drained, limp with exhaustion, Iriana looked through Dael’s disbelieving eyes at the place where Eliorand, the heart of the Phaerie realm, had stood. Now there was nothing save a great, craggy, tree-covered hill that reared proudly above the surrounding forest – the only remaining memorial to a lost civilisation.

  Then suddenly everything went dark. Dael’s hand slid limply out of her own, and Iriana felt him slip from the saddle and heard the muted thump as he hit the ground. All through the staggering transition that had just occurred, he had been linked to her by the power of the Fialan, and, as she had feared, the power had proved too much for the frail form of a mortal to bear.

  Aghast and stricken with grief, Iriana switched her eyesight to that of her horse. Unaccustomed to this close rapport it fought her, but the Wizard was so desperate to reach her fallen companion that she was in no state of mind to be gainsaid. Ruthlessly imposing her will upon the animal, she used its vision to guide them both down to where Dael lay, limp and broken, on the ground.

  30

  ~

  DEPART IN SORROW, RETURN IN JOY

  Before Iriana began her desperate battle with Hellorin, Aelwen found Taine by searching the area of the forest’s edge near his trapped horse. Even with all her years of equestrian experience and skill, it took the Horsemistress a long time to persuade her terrified mount to come anywhere near the horrifying conflict that was taking place between the Archwizard and the Forest Lord, but finally she managed to coax the frightened creature up to the tree where Taine lay across a sturdy branch. He was moving slightly, much to her relief, and therefore still alive, but his face was grey and contorted with pain.

  Aelwen brought her horse up close to hover at his level, wondering with a flash of concern just how long Corisand’s flying spell could last without the Fialan to bolster the Windeye’s powers while she was in her equine form. Still, it was pointless to wonder, and she had other matters to concern her at present. ‘Taine?’ she asked urgently. ‘How badly are you hurt? Can you move?’

  He turned his head and glared at her. ‘I told you to get away.’

  ‘And I ignored you.’ A little of Aelwen’s relief at finding him alive evaporated in irritation. ‘Which is just as well for you, as far as I can see. Now can you move?’

  Taine tried to hoist himself up astride the branch but his cloak was caught on a splintered snag above him. He collapsed back into his former position with a gasping curse, sweat running down his grimacing face. ‘Broken a rib or two,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Might need a little help here.’

  ‘Wait, I’ll bring your horse. His bridle caught in a tree, or he’d be halfway to Tyrineld by now, but he looks all right apart from a few scrapes and scratches.’ Aelwen had to raise her voice over the detonations accompanying the battle between Hellorin and Cyran, though the details of what was happening were obscured by the trees. It was difficult to untangle the trapped animal and harder still to calm him down once he had been released. She was forced for her own safety to take him down to ground level, and had only just managed to get the creature under control when she heard Cyran’s death scream, and saw the trees whip back and forth as the earth shook with the impact of his fall.

  Taine’s strangled dry of anguish brought her out of a frozen moment of shock. She leapt back onto her own mount, then, leading the other, hurried back to w
here her lover was still trapped in the tree. As she reached him she was shocked to see tears running down his face, but his voice was steady as he spoke. ‘Quick! Get me out of this bloody tree. Now that Cyran’s gone, there’ll be no stopping Hellorin.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Iriana’s dealing with it,’ Aelwen said absently, as she disentangled the tattered remains of his cloak from the splintered spike of bough.

  ‘WHAT?’ There was a loud ripping noise as Taine wrenched himself free of the encumbrance and hoisted himself upright, oblivious now to the pain. ‘Why in perdition didn’t you tell me? We have to help her.’

  ‘We have to get away,’ Aelwen panted as she helped him pull himself awkwardly into his saddle. ‘The Wizard is dealing with Hellorin. She has the power of the Fialan to draw on, but there’s nothing we can do against his magic, or I would help her with all my heart.’ Her voice took on a new urgency as she saw the stubborn tightening of his jaw. ‘Taine, she came back to buy us time – at least, that was one of the reasons. Don’t let this opportunity go to waste.’

  ‘You go,’ Taine said harshly. ‘I’m not leaving her.’

  Hunched over in his saddle from the pain in his ribs he urged his horse aloft, and Aelwen followed him, cursing under her breath. When they cleared the treetops a horrific sight met their eyes. Hellorin’s gigantic storm wolf snarled and raged against an immense eagle, formed of shifting, many-hued radiance, that tore at the wolf’s lightning-laced hide with cruel beak and talons.

  They saw Iriana, her jaw clenched with pain and effort, consumed by the blazing green energy of the Fialan, and saw Dael reach across and take her hand. They saw her master the power as Dael drained part of it into his body, taking on that same searing emerald glow, then a gigantic serpent of ice joined the eagle in combat, throwing its coils around the storm wolf’s body.

  Any thoughts of helping Iriana fled from Taine’s mind. There was just no way to interfere with powers of this magnitude. He and Aelwen could only watch as the titanic struggle was played out, and the blind young Wizard faced the terrifying might of the ruler of a puissant, ancient race. Taine felt sick with fear for her. How could she possibly prevail? She looked far too vulnerable and fragile to face such might – not to mention handling the extraordinary forces of the Fialan, which blazed out of her so brightly that the shadows of her bones could be seen within her glowing skin.

  In that moment, Taine’s heart went out to her – then Aelwen tugged firmly at his sleeve. ‘By all Creation, look at that!’ With a wave of her arm she indicated the spreading wave of instability that was still expanding, and very close to the battleground in the centre of the city now. ‘Don’t you think we should move back—’

  ‘I said no.’ Taine gave her a savage look. ‘I may not be able to help her, but I’m damned if I’m going to leave her. You go if you want.’

  ‘If you’re not retreating, then I won’t,’ Aelwen replied through clenched teeth. So she was forced to watch, in an agony of conflicting loyalties, as the battle unfolded.

  Hellorin had always been good to her, yet she had betrayed him. She looked down at the bloodstained body of Tiolani, lying covered with dust in the rubble of the courtyard, and her heart bled for all the potential that had been lost. Yet Taine was her lover and Iriana her companion and friend, and she had no intentions of changing sides now. She understood that Hellorin’s ambitions had grown out of control, that there was a dark and ruthless side to his character, that he was dangerous in his grief, and that it had been imperative to free the slave races of Xandim and Dwelven – but oh, whoever won or lost, this night would cost her dearly in anguish!

  Then the edge of the spreading area of instability finally reached the combatants, and the entire world seemed to go mad. Aelwen heard Taine’s cry of horror as the green nimbus around Iriana flared to blinding brilliance, and expanded until it had obscured all trace of Dael and the Wizard. Then, after what seemed an eternity, the light of the Fialan died – and when the dazzling patches of glare cleared from her eyes, Eliorand, the Forest Lord and all his subjects were gone. Only Iriana and Dael, slumped over the necks of their horses, hovered over what was now an ordinary, forested hill.

  The sense of loss was like a knife twisting in Aelwen’s heart. She gave a wrenching cry, but before Taine could react, Dael suddenly collapsed and slid limply from the back of his mount, and Iriana’s cry of grief was an echo of her own.

  But I can’t leave Iriana now!

  Dael was stricken with horror to find himself standing once again by the great old door that guarded the entrance to the realm of Death. His memories of the moments leading up to his demise were vague, distorted flashes – the fearsome battle with the Forest Lord; taking the Wizard’s hand and feeling the searing power of the Fialan flood through him; the vanishing of Eliorand . . . He was tortured by a feeling of things left undone, help left ungiven, words left unsaid.

  Not now – I can’t go now. I’m not ready!

  Yet he found that, while all these thoughts had been racing through his mind, he had somehow passed through the door and the mysterious tunnel that lay beyond, emerging in the strange landscape with its dim, sourceless light. And there, waiting for him, was the cowled and shrouded figure of Death, whom he had now come to know, following his last visit to this place, as Athina’s brother Creator Siris.

  ‘They all say just what you are saying, those who pass this way – or almost all of them. Any life that has ended is like a piece of torn linen, with so many loose threads left hanging.’ He shrugged. ‘It is the way of things. Your path lies in a different direction now.’

  Dael’s feet seemed to move of their own volition, following Death across the eerie, unchanging hillside that was crowned by the grove of trees that held the Well of Souls, but his mind was screaming in protest, not just for the loss of his companions and the life he had left behind, but for the severing of his final tie with Athina. If he was reborn he wouldn’t remember her, and she would never find him again. She had promised him that she would do everything in her power to reunite them, but how could she, once he had passed through the Well?

  He was already mourning his loss so bitterly that when he stepped into the clearing in the centre of the grove he was stunned to see the familiar, beloved figure of the Cailleach, moving with swift footsteps round the Well to embrace him.

  ‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ Dael murmured. ‘I’m glad they let you come to say goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye? What goodbye?’ Athina held him away from her at arm’s length, with her hands on his shoulders, and he realised that her face was glowing with happiness. She looked from Dael to the anonymous, dark figure of Death, and her smile was as dazzling as the rising sun. ‘Thank you, Siris, my dear brother, for giving me this one chance to slip past the other Creators.’

  There was no sign of a face within the shadowy cowl, but as Death replied, it sounded as if he was smiling. ‘The other Creators were quite happy to abandon me to this thankless task down all the endless aeons since we formed this world. Only you still cared about me, and visited me from time to time in my lonely exile. Moreover, now you have given me hope that one day I might be free to move on, to Create again, to bestow life and leave the lonely role of Keeper of the Well to someone else.’

  ‘As I told you, you have something that the Magefolk desperately need,’ the Cailleach said. ‘I believe an accommodation might be reached to bring your exile to an end.’

  Athina turned back to Dael. ‘And now a choice lies before you, my dear. You may pass through the Well and return—’

  ‘No!’ Dael protested. ‘If I go through there I’ll lose you for ever.’

  The Cailleach smiled. ‘There is an alternative.’

  Dael’s heart leapt. ‘Can I come with you? Truly? Have you found a way?’

  ‘Thanks to Siris, yes.’ Athina turned back towards the grove and beckoned, and Avithan, healed of all his dreadful wounds, stepped out from between the trees. ‘Is everything ready?’ he asked eag
erly. ‘Can I go back now?’

  ‘You should not be going back at all,’ Siris said sternly. ‘You should be going on – but since you did not actually die, thanks to my meddling sister here, I can stretch the ancient laws and send you back to your old life, in Dael’s place – if he consents.’

  The shadowy cowl swung round to face Dael. ‘It all depends on you, human. You must be very sure that this is what you want. An eternity in one place with one person: are you sure your mind can encompass that? Are you certain you could bear it?’

  ‘An eternity . . . ” Dael was staggered. ‘But how – I mean, I’m a mortal with no magic. I thought I couldn’t . . .’

  ‘Twice now you have acted as a vessel for the Fialan’s power,’ Siris told him. ‘The first time it killed you, and you were permitted to return to your mortal life. But when you took on the burden of all that power a second time, it changed you – permanently.’

  Smiling, Athina added, ‘The Stone has a history of reacting in different ways to different people, and it seems to have been drawn to the sacrifice that you made for your friends – first Corisand, then Iriana. You are no longer mortal, my dear, and who knows what other powers the Fialan might have left within you? You might have magic that none of us could even predict, and what the Fialan has bestowed can never be taken away from you.’

  ‘Because of the Fialan I can send you back to your old life one last time,’ Siris continued. ‘If you decide to return you will take your powers with you, and who knows what you might do, or become, or achieve. In the Cailleach’s realm by the Timeless Lake, however, things are static and unchanging. Would you really want to choose that over a lifetime with so many possibilities?’

  ‘Think well, Dael,’ Athina said urgently. ‘Though it would break my heart to lose you, I would also love to see you reach your full potential.’