Heritage Of The Xandim

by Maggie Furey

  16

  TRANSFORMATION

  To his dismay, Challan realised that Lannala wanted very much to talk about what had happened - and at great length. He heard her slam the door that Iriana had left open, with a muttered, ‘Good riddance.’ Then she marched into his study and proceeded to give him her unvarnished opinion of his foster-daughter, with her daughter providing a harsh and bitter chorus. After a few minutes, Challan decided that he had allowed her to vent enough of her spleen. ‘Lannala, is this going anywhere?’

  It upset him to hear his previous family being impugned in such graphic terms. It was not that he hadn’t loved them dearly. It was just that he had fallen so desperately in love with Lannala who, unlike the capable Zybina, had aroused such intense feelings of protectiveness within him that he couldn’t help but choose her. It had been a long time before he had understood just how effective her clinging helplessness had been, as a means of attracting him - and it had been far longer than that before he’d realised, when their life in open-minded, who-gives-a-damn Nexis gave her so much more independence and freedom, that her vulnerability had only been an effect of her lowly status as a slave. She had changed, then; become his partner, equal, strong. It had taken some getting used to, but as the years had passed, he’d come to the decision that he liked this new Lannala better.

  Until tonight. Now, seeing her face all twisted with rage, he knew a brief flash of longing for the old days, when she had been the malleable and timid slave girl.

  ‘It is as far as I’m concerned,’ she snapped. ‘I heard what that little cow said about our daughter.’

  Challan sighed. ‘What Iriana said was reprehensible, it’s true, but you obviously missed what Chiannala said about her. There was blame on both sides, and—’

  ‘How dare you stand there and defend some foundling Wizard-whelp against your own flesh and blood! I’m not going to stand for it. Our Chiannala is every bit as good as some jumped-up little nobody whose parents didn’t even want her.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘You really want to know where this is going? I’ll tell you. I want you to stop putting me off. I want you to take Chiannala to Tyrineld, as I keep asking, and get her into the Academy to be trained as a Wizard. You know very well that she inherited your powers. Well, I want her to fulfil her heritage, then snotty bitches like the one who was here tonight won’t be able to look down their noses at her.’

  ‘Yes, take me, please.’ Chiannala added her support. ‘You know I have ability. Let me prove myself! If I was trained, I’d be every bit as good as her. And I’ll probably be better, and that will knock the smugness out of the cow. Please, Father, please.’

  Challan’s heart sank. Not this again. It was unfortunate that Chiannala appeared to have inherited his powers in full. When she was a child he had taught and helped her, for power untutored and uncontrolled was a dangerous thing, but for some time now, he’d been wondering if he’d done the right thing. Now, of course, she was burning to go to Tyrineld for the intense, high-level training that only the Academy could give her, and her own ambition had only been exceeded by that of her mother. Time after time, he had fobbed them off with a variety of vague excuses, because he hadn’t wanted to hurt Chiannala. But if she and her mother kept persisting like this, how much longer could he hide the truth from her? I can’t cope with this tonight - not after the shock of Iriana’s visit, Challan thought. I brought Lannala here to Nexis to secure the freedom that she craved for herself and her daughter - why must they keep demanding more of me?

  He sighed. ‘Chiannala, for the thousandth time, you cannot be a student at the Academy. You—’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you think I’m good enough? Is that it?’

  ‘I know very well that you’re good enough to be a Wizard. More than good enough, but—’

  ‘Then why won’t you let her go?’ It was Lannala again. ‘It’s not fair to keep her buried in this rough backwoods place.’

  ‘It was good enough for you when you came here as a slave from Tyrineld,’ Challan snapped, goaded and hurt by her ingratitude. ‘You said you loved it here. That you’d never been happier.’

  ‘It’s good enough for me, but I want better for my daughter. There are greater things in store for her. She’s not a human slave like I was. She has your blood, Wizard blood, in her veins.’

  ‘She has your blood too.’ There, at last he had said the words aloud. It had broken his heart to do so, but Challan knew that he had no alternative this time. Iriana’s visit had brought matters to a head for all of them. ‘Chiannala is a half-breed,’ he went on, hating himself even as the words left his mouth. ‘As such she will never be accepted by the Academy.’

  Chiannala’s face turned deathly white, but the glitter in her eyes was pure rage. ‘Then make them accept me,’ she snarled at Challan through gritted teeth. ‘How do they know who my mother is? Tell them I’m truly one of the Magefolk, that my mother was a Wizard, but now she’s dead.’

  By the door, Lannala made a small, hurt sound that was halfway between a gasp and a sob, but Chiannala ignored her. ‘Do it, Father. I know you can.’

  Steeling himself against the pain, Challan shook his head. ‘I could convince them, perhaps - but I won’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Chiannala, but I’ve sacrificed everything for you and your mother. My home, my work, my friends. I abandoned my original family. Though I loved them dearly, I chose your mother over them when she became pregnant with you. I did it all for your future, so that you could grow up in a place where you wouldn’t have to bear the stigma of a being treated as a slave. I love you both very much, and I would do almost anything to make you happy. But not this.’

  ‘But—’ Chiannala protested, but she had no chance to finish.

  ‘Let me speak, Chiannala.’ Challan overrode her words in a harsher voice than he had ever used towards her. ‘All I have left of my former life is my self-respect. No matter what they think of my choice in Tyrineld, at least I acted with integrity, and I won’t compromise that by going back now and lying to everyone. If I do, I’ll lose the little that remains of the man I used to be. And I’ve hurt my other family enough - Zybina, and Yinze and Iriana - without shoving you under their noses by taking you to live in Tyrineld. I’ve already broken their hearts. I won’t humiliate them besides. I’m sorry, but that is my final word. I promise I will teach you all I know right here, and I’ll try to find other Wizards who would be prepared to train you too. But I cannot - I will not take you to Tyrineld.’ Unknowing, he echoed Iriana’s words to Avithan. ‘I don’t want to discuss this again. Not now. Not ever.’

  A crushing weight of silence settled on the room. Then, without warning, Lannala blurted: ‘I should have known it. No matter what you said, no matter what we did, we were never good enough for you, were we? Well, if that’s the way you want it, why don’t you just go back to Tyrineld, and your precious family of stinking Wizards. We don’t need you!’

  ‘Lannala, I think you forget yourself.’ Challan’s eyes flashed with anger, but his voice remained quiet and controlled. ‘You’ve lived here too long under my protection, enjoying privileges and liberties that, under normal circumstances, a mortal would never be granted. If I leave Nexis, they won’t let you stay here as you are. You’ll be sold to a new owner, and Chiannala with you, whether she has Wizard blood or not. Being the age she is, and with her looks, she’ll probably be sold into one of the brothels. Is that what you want for her?’

  Lannala turned as white as her daughter, but her pallor was pure fear. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘You couldn’t—’

  ‘Don’t you understand? It has nothing to do with what I want. If I leave here, your fate will be beyond my control. No matter how much I choose to elevate you, you’re a mortal. As long as you dwell in the realm of the Wizards you’re a slave and you always will be. And because of her human heritage, so will Chiannala.’

  Chiannala stared at Challan in frozen disbelief. This couldn�
��t really be her father saying these cruel, terrible things, could it? He had always loved her, spoiled her and, she now realised, shielded her from the reality of her situation. It was as though all the foundations of her life were crumbling beneath her. ‘No!’ she shrieked, unable to listen to any more, unable to take any further brutal truths. Clapping her hands over her ears, she turned to run from the room, but her mother tried to stop her in the doorway, catching at her arm as she passed. ‘Leave me alone.’ Chiannala struck out at Lannala with clenched fists, hitting out at her shoulders and face. ‘This is all your fault. You and your accursed human blood, you’ve ruined my life. I hate you! I hate you both!’

  ‘Chiannala, wait, wait!’ She took no notice of her mother’s anguished cries, but as she ran from the room, she heard her father’s voice. ‘Leave her alone. You’ve done enough damage for one night. See what you’ve brought us to, with your insane ambitions for the girl.’

  ‘What I’ve brought us to?’ Lannala shrieked. Fleeing the impending quarrel, Chiannala ran upstairs to her room, tears flooding her face. Locking the door, she flung herself down on her bed and struck the pillow with her fist. Downstairs, they were blaming each other as hard as they could, and judging from the raised voices, the argument was likely to continue for some considerable time. She blamed them both: her stupid, self-deluding mother for building up Chiannala’s hopes all these years with her ridiculous expectations, and her cowardly, lying hypocrite of a father for letting her foster those hopes in vain. There was, however, someone she blamed even more than her parents: that arrogant bloody Wizard-bitch Iriana. She was responsible for the dreadful scenes that had taken place that night. For Chiannala’s happy little family being torn apart by words that could never be unsaid. For the shattering of all her hopes and dreams.

  ‘Curse you, Iriana,’ Chiannala snarled. ‘I’ll hate you for this until the day I die. I swear I’ll never rest until I’ve ruined you, and left your life in ashes and dust the way you’ve left mine tonight.’

  To make matters worse, her anger was fuelled by guilt. She knew how much she had hurt her mother by trying to deny her. She hadn’t meant it, not really. She loved Lannala. It was her mother’s mortal blood that she detested, and tonight, the way she was feeling, it was impossible to separate the two. And as for her father’s betrayal, it was much easier to be angry about that because anger kept away the unbearable hurt. After everything that had happened, all the terrible things that had been said, how could she ever face her parents? The way she felt right now, she never wanted to see them again.

  Then don’t.

  The idea popped into her head as if it had been there all her life, just waiting for this crisis to occur. Angry, hurt and bitter as she was, it made complete sense to her. That was the answer. She would run away. Make a success of her life somewhere else. She would show her father that he had been wrong to dismiss her because of her blood, and make her mother proud of her.

  It didn’t take Chiannala long to pack. She was shedding her old life as a serpent sheds its outgrown skin, and she wanted to take no remnants of it with her. Enough clothes to get by, including her best gown - for like all girls her age, she was desperately concerned about her appearance. A comb and one or two other toilet articles. She parcelled her belongings into two blankets laid on top of one another, and tied the neck of the makeshift pack tightly with a long scarf, before putting on her boots and leather gloves, and her warmest cloak.

  The cloak gave her an idea. Maybe she could buy herself a little extra time before her parents discovered that she was missing. Hurriedly, she pushed one of her pillows lengthways under her bedclothes, then bundled up the threadbare old winter cloak that she’d discarded last year and placed it above the pillow. There! With the covers pulled up high, it looked just as though she was snuggled under the bedclothes. Her parents would probably be too busy to take much notice tonight, and would only be too glad to have her out of the way.

  Chiannala was about to leave, but as an afterthought, she took all of her jewellery: her little ring set with a garnet, which her father had bought her for her birthday, and a slender gold chain. When she got to Tyrineld, she should be able to sell them. She would need more money. She only had a small handful of copper coins to call her own, but it would be impossible to retrieve those meagre savings while her parents were fighting in her father’s study, where his strongbox was kept. Then fate took a hand, or luck, perhaps. Suddenly, she heard the loud slam of the door into the street, followed by her father calling: ‘Lannala, come back.’ Then she heard the hollow sound of his footsteps running along the wooden floor of the passageway, and the slam of the street door again.

  This was her chance! Without a backward glance, Chiannala darted from the pleasant little room that had been hers since her childhood. Across the landing was her parents’ bedroom, and there in a drawer was her mother’s scant hoard of jewellery. Chiannala hesitated, guilt churning in her stomach. Then she snatched up the lot and pocketed it without looking to see what she had. One day she would make it up to Lannala. When she had made a success of her life, she would replace these trinkets with far better stuff.

  She hurtled headlong downstairs into the study, snatched the little iron strongbox from the cupboard, ran into the kitchen and swiped any food that could easily be carried, dropping everything, strongbox included, into the string-mesh bag that her mother used for carrying the shopping. She dropped flint and tinder into her pocket, stuck the sharpest knife into her belt - and was ready to go.

  So far, so good. There were still no signs of anyone returning: her mother must be leading her father a merry dance through the town. Quickly Chiannala slipped out of the back door and found their sturdy brown horse in his little lean-to stable. She needed no lantern to see what she was doing. Along with her father’s magical powers, she had inherited his Wizardly night vision, and she blessed it tonight. Though her heart was racing with panic lest her parents return and stop her, she still took the time to saddle him properly. It would be a long journey and she’d have to ride as fast as this fat and lazy creature would carry her, so there was no point setting off bareback. Tying bundle and net bag together with a bit of old rope that she found in the stable, she fastened them as tightly as she could behind the saddle, one hanging on either side. Then, pulling her hood up to hide her face, she mounted - awkwardly, because of the bulky bags - and rode the horse out of the stable, ducking low to miss the top of the doorway by inches. Out of the backyard and away: away from her childhood; away from her parents; away from her home. And, best of all, away from that accursed taint of humanity for ever.

  Chiannala galloped with reckless speed through the moonlit streets, praying that she wouldn’t run into her parents, and dodging as best she could between the town’s many nocturnal wanderers: gamblers, carousers and their predators - the street-hawkers, cutpurses, robbers and whores of both sexes. People leapt out of her way as she thundered past, and she heard a number of curses and cries of protest behind her; but to her relief no one came after her or tried to stop her. Nexians were great believers in minding their own business. She crossed the ford and pounded through the quieter streets on the outskirts of town. Soon she was passing through the new houses that were under construction on the very edge of the settlement, until at last the final half-completed buildings fell behind her, and she was away.

  Once she had put Nexis behind her, things became far more difficult. A half-moon provided some light, but Chiannala was forced to slow down nonetheless. She might possess a Wizard’s night vision, but her horse did not, and though the trail was well travelled, it was still rutted and rough in places. The last thing she needed right now was for her mount to fall, perhaps injuring one or both of them.

  She had never been out alone at night before, and as her anger began to fade, her courage sank with it. The slopes and curves of the surrounding moorland, dark silhouettes against the moonlit sky, were vast and lonely. After the raucous, drunken din of nocturnal Nexis, it was a
lmost shockingly still and quiet out here. The only sounds were the sigh of the night wind as it roamed the endless spaces of moor and dell; the inner rhythm of her heartbeat, slowing a little now that she had made her escape; the regular, soft thud of her horse’s hooves and the huffing sound of its breath, loud against the whisper of her own quiet breathing. To a girl who had lived all her life in a bustling town like Nexis, the silence was unnerving and filled with threat. There should be no wild beasts on the moor tonight - they only came down from the mountains in the dead of winter - but what if there were robbers waiting to ambush unsuspecting travellers on the road? What if they leapt out, and attacked her?

  At this point, Chiannala pulled herself together. ‘Leapt out from where, you idiot?’ she asked herself aloud. ‘There isn’t a tree or a bush within miles, and if they’re hiding in a dell or behind a hill somewhere off the road, at least you’ll see them coming if they decide to attack.’ Firmly, she thrust the phantom robbers from her mind. If it happened, it happened, and there was no sense in worrying about it in the meantime. It was either this or go snivelling back home - which would never happen while she still had breath in her body.