Heritage Of The Xandim

by Maggie Furey

  Besides, there were far more real and immediate things for Chiannala to worry about. Pulling up her horse for a moment, she turned and looked back over her shoulder, peering into the darkness and listening as hard as she could for any sounds of pursuit. How long would it take for her parents to discover she had gone? They were so bound up in their own quarrel - would they even notice, until she didn’t turn up for breakfast? Certainly, until they had discovered that the horse was missing, they would never for one moment imagine that she’d leave Nexis.

  Yes, she should still have a little more time to get away.

  It was just as well, at the speed she was going. After a while, however, the gentle pace began to lull her fears a little. Even though she still kept a vigilant watch all around her, and listened very carefully for any sounds of pursuit coming from behind, she finally found herself beginning to relax. Though she had been forced to run away from home, and though her former life was in ruins thanks to that miserable cow of a Wizard, Chiannala, much to her surprise, found herself almost enjoying this part of her adventure. Though it was summer, the nights were still cold this far north, but the sharp air on her face helped her to stay awake, and she could snuggle gratefully into her warm cloak and gloves. Everything smelled clean and fragrant after Nexis, with its permanent stink of garbage and worse, and the smoke from so many fires. The moonlit sky seemed to be sprinkled with far more stars than she could see when she looked at it from the lamplit town and, despite her earlier - and not quite vanquished - fears of robbers; despite the dreadful, hurtful scenes and revelations she had witnessed at home, she felt a quiet sense of peace settle over her.

  She lost all track of time as she followed the moonlit trail across the endless stretches of moorland. After a while, monotony and weariness, together with the soothing rhythm of her horse’s steps, lulled her into a half-doze, and she simply let herself be carried along, heading towards an unknown future, content to keep putting a growing distance between herself and all that she had known.

  Chiannala awakened with a jerk, grabbing the pommel of the saddle to keep herself from falling. Somehow, without her knowing, the half-doze had deepened into sleep, and she had almost slipped right off the horse. She threw back her hood and took reviving gulps of pure, cold air. ‘This won’t do,’ she scolded herself. ‘What if robbers had come? What if the horse had shied at a shadow, or stumbled in a rut? You’d have been trying to walk all the way to Tyrineld, and they would have caught you for sure.’

  She was just about to set off again when she noticed that the moon was on her left shoulder instead of her right. Chiannala blinked in confusion. ‘What the—?’ Then she realised what had happened. Making the most of her inattention, the tired horse had wheeled around and was heading back home to its stable, and it was the unexpected motion of the turn that had nearly spilled her from the saddle. ‘Stupid creature,’ she sighed. Or maybe not so stupid. Annoyed, she forced the reluctant beast to turn back the way it had been going, but its pace slowed, and it refused to go any faster, no matter how hard she urged it.

  It was no good. The horse needed to rest and, if she were being truthful, she wasn’t in much better condition herself after riding for about four hours. She would have to find a safe place to sleep for a while: preferably somewhere that would conceal her from any searchers who might come along the trail. She looked around, wondering how far she had come, and discovered to her surprise that while she had been oblivious to her surroundings, the horse had followed the road down a long hill into a deep, broad river valley. Down in this sheltered haven, away from the harsh conditions of the high moors, the landscape was very different. There were trees here: groves of ash and beech, with willow thickets along the banks of the river. More importantly, however, this was farmland: meadows dotted with cattle alongside carefully tilled fields of root crops, cabbages, beans and a few acres of ripening barley and oats. Wizards, with their powers rooted in Earth Magic, tended to make very good farmers if their inclination lay that way.

  A track led off to Chiannala’s right, and vanished behind a little copse. Hopefully, it would lead to the farm itself. Chiannala pulled up the horse and thought for a moment, her brows knotted in a frown, then turned the weary animal and swung off the main trail. The track, just wide enough for a cart, had sturdy, well-maintained fencing on either side, separating the fields from the road. Once past the copse, it curved down to her left, towards the river, and several hundred yards away Chiannala saw a cluster of buildings that was obviously the farm, with a big house for the farmer, byres and barns, henhouses and sheds, and quarters nearby for the human slaves. Now that the horse could smell a stable ahead, he perked up noticeably and picked up his pace, but Chiannala had no intention of going as far as the farm, where there would no doubt be dogs to sound the alarm and involve her in all sorts of complications. In the next field on her right there was an old stone barn that stood well back from the road, and Chiannala unlatched the gate and headed for this sanctuary.

  The barn smelled pleasantly of hay and animals. The interior consisted of two separate areas: one a storage place for a clutter of farm implements, and the other divided by partitions into four stalls, two empty, and the other two housing a pretty, dappled, light-grey horse and a big brown mule. Above was a half-loft with a ladder, where hay and bags of fodder were stored.

  Perfect. Chiannala put her animal into the vacant stall beside the other horse, and removed its gear and burdens. Scrambling up the ladder with the two heavy bags, she brought hay and corn from the farmer’s plentiful supply down to her mount, who stuck his nose into the manger as though he had never seen food before. Having filled him a bucket of water from the stream, she climbed the ladder again, unwrapped her bundle and made a nest with her blankets in a pile of hay. Then, taking bread, cheese and an apple from the other bag, she fell to eating as hungrily as the animal had done.

  As she ate, Chiannala thought about her parents. Would they have missed her yet? Would they be searching? She hoped not. If she could leave as soon as it was light, she could ride much faster, and put even more distance between herself and any searchers. Besides, they wouldn’t be able to follow her immediately. Not only had she taken their horse, but all their money besides, so they wouldn’t be able to afford to buy or hire another. For a moment she wondered how they would manage without their savings, and regretted the anguish and worry she’d be causing them once they found out that she was gone.

  Feeling her resolve beginning to weaken, she hardened her heart. Who cared? Let them worry! The father she had loved so dearly had been lying to her all these years, letting her hope that she could attend the Academy like any normal Wizard, and her mother, with her miserable human blood, had ruined her life. If her absence was causing them pain, it served them right. But now that her mad flight from Nexis was over for a little while and she was forced to be still, anxiety began to gnaw at her. Running away was all very well, and for now she’d found a sanctuary, but she couldn’t stay in this barn for ever. What would she do next? Where would she go? How could she show them that she was every bit as good as Iriana?

  Then it came to her. The solution was so obvious! Never mind what her father said - she would go to Tyrineld. She would go on her own, as someone else - as a true Wizard, like the rest of them. The Wizard she was in her heart. Excited now, she forgot her weariness and sprang to her feet, pacing up and down while a plan began to take shape in her mind. Her father had been teaching her the spells of chimera and illusion, and although he had forbidden her to use them to alter her appearance until she was much more experienced, she didn’t give a damn about that now. As far as she was concerned, he had lost any right to authority over her. When she got to the city, she would make herself look like someone else entirely. Someone beautiful. Someone that poisonous cow Iriana would never recognise. She would be trained properly, at the Academy, just as she had always wanted. She would work day and night, developing her abilities to their very peak. And when she was powerful enou
gh, she would have her revenge on all of them: all those arrogant Wizards who wanted to enslave her mother and herself.

  Chiannala smiled. First she would deceive them, then she’d outdo the lot of them - and first and foremost of them all would be that detestable Iriana.

  Despite the whirl of hopes and plans that filled her thoughts, Chiannala found herself overwhelmed by weariness. Soon all her schemes and worries left her, as she leant back against the fragrant hay and relaxed into sleep.

  A bed of hay could only feel comfortable to someone who was dead tired. It prickled, it tickled, it rustled with mysterious movements that could only be mice, or even rats... In short, Chiannala awakened after only a couple of hours’ sleep. It was just as well, really, she consoled herself. The subdued, ghostly light that signalled the hour before sun-up was already glimmering through the open doorway below, and it was high time she was on the road again. The last thing she wanted was to run into someone from the farm now, and get caught up in endless explanations and lies.

  At top speed, Chiannala began to pack up her belongings - then suddenly paused as she caught sight of the little hand mirror she had slipped in with her other bits and pieces. Picking it up, she looked at her face in the dim light and remembered that she had been planning, before she fell asleep last night, to use a chimera spell to disguise herself when she got to Tyrineld. But surely she could risk a few minutes now in such a good cause. If she looked different on her journey, she’d stand a far better chance of reaching the city undetected. Tucking the mirror into a pocket, she dropped her bag and bundle over the edge of the loft and scrambled down the ladder after them.

  Chiannala took the mirror to the doorway where the light was better and looked at her reflection again. How she hated that narrow face, those mud-coloured eyes and that bushy, dull brown hair. Well, if she was going to disguise herself, she might as well do the job properly. Closing her eyes, she put together a detailed picture of the way she had always wanted to look, visualising every aspect of her new appearance in painstaking detail. Then, reaching deep inside herself as her father had taught her, she touched the wellspring of her powers and poured her magic into the vision, projecting the new image onto her own face as it was reflected in the mirror.

  She had never done a spell this powerful, despite her earlier, confident words to her father. Nor had she attempted any magic so complex. But it was too late. Chiannala was committed. For an instant she felt a stab of terror, and a torrent of doubts flooded through her mind. What if she couldn’t do this? What if it all went wrong? This was her face she was messing about with! Had she lost her mind? What if she turned herself into some kind of monster? As she watched with horror, a radiant nimbus washed down over her head, blurring her features - then suddenly, her entire face simply vanished, hidden behind a shield of pure light that looked as hard and shiny as the mirror she held. She gave a little scream, almost dropping it. What had she done?

  Somehow, Chiannala pulled together the tattered shreds of her courage. She simply had to succeed. Everything depended on it. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated with all her might on the blank, shining oval in the mirror, willing the perfect new features to form. For a moment, nothing happened, then the reflection blurred and clouded as though a grey curtain had been drawn across in front of the mirror. When it cleared, the blank travesty of a face had gone, and a stranger looked out at her from the glass.

  Chiannala gasped. For the first time in her life, she was beautiful. Her hair was a glorious mane of raven-black curls. Her eyes were large and green, with long, sweeping lashes, and though she had been careful to give her face the sculpted features that typified the Wizards, the bony angularity was softened slightly into a stunning beauty that outshone Iriana’s stern, patrician looks as the sun outshone the moon. Chiannala laughed aloud. Nothing could stop her now.

  As she gazed into the mirror, enraptured by what she saw, and delighted (not to mention a little relieved) that her first essay into such advanced magic had gone so well, she suddenly noticed that her surroundings looked brighter, and her skin had taken on a warmer hue. Damn it. Where had the time gone? The sun was rising already. The eastern sky had turned to apricot and gold, and a sliver of fiery light was beginning to show above the horizon. In the farmyard, a cockerel crowed. She had lingered too long here, and if she didn’t hurry, the people from the farm would find her. Chiannala ran back into the barn, stuffed the mirror into her bundle with feverish hands and ran to fetch her horse.

  The animal was far from pleased to have his rest interrupted so soon. He tossed his head and showed the whites of his eyes as she tried to put on the bridle. ‘Stop that, damn you,’ Chiannala muttered as the long brown nose was jerked out of her reach yet again. ‘Come here. Why can’t you be like that nice, well-behaved creature over there?”

  She stopped dead, the bridle hanging limply from her hand. Could she? Dared she take the other beast? Why not? It seemed a fair exchange. And as she went on her way with her new disguise, she would be even less recognisable on a different horse. No sooner said than done. Within minutes the saddle, bridle and her baggage were all on the grey, who seemed a good-natured, docile creature. As she led it past the brown horse, she gave a little shrug. ‘If you have to work harder now, you only have yourself to blame,’ she said.

  The new horse was of a lighter build than her father’s stocky brown creature, which had mostly been used for pulling a cart. This was a proper riding horse; much more fitted to carrying a lady like herself, Chiannala thought smugly, than that thick-limbed, thick-headed creature which would be much more use on a farm anyway. She only hoped the farmer would see it that way. ‘After all,’ she told herself firmly, ‘it’s not really like stealing. I haven’t left them any worse off.’

  Chiannala turned onto the main road and saw the way to Tyrineld lying clear before her. At last! She couldn’t wait to get there, with a new appearance and a new identity, and begin a new life. Leaning forward in the saddle, she urged her new horse into a gallop, and vanished down the road in a cloud of dust.

  17

  ABOUT FACE

  The moment she heard her mother’s voice calling her, Brynne was out of bed with a bound. Though she hadn’t slept a wink, and the sky was still utterly dark beyond her curtains, she was much too excited to feel tired. Forming a ball of cool, bright magelight, the simplest of magic and the first spell her mother had ever taught her, she thought of all the wonderful, advanced and complex magic she would soon be learning at the great and far-famed Academy in the city of Tyrineld.

  Brynne couldn’t wait to get there, though her longing was tinged with a little trepidation. She certainly had ability, so there had never been any real doubt of her acceptance, or so her doting parents had kept on telling her, but she had spent all of her sixteen years living on a remote farm halfway between the city and the frontier, and had never had anyone but her mother and father to measure herself against. And her parents weren’t especially talented.

  Her father’s name was Shelgan. His powers were nothing special, and he had left the Academy and the city to become a farmer to the south-east of the frontier town of Nexis, near the coast. He had sufficient magic to help him raise wonderful crops from the difficult environment of the windswept downs, and that was more than enough for him. Her mother, Larann, was a Healer, and though she was quite competent enough to tender good, practical service to the nearby fishing village and her own farm settlement, not to mention its animals (which were a speciality of hers), she would never be outstanding. They were completely lacking in ambition; content in their own little niche and wanting no more. A baby girl had set the crown on their happiness, and when her burgeoning talents had startled and amazed them, they had felt the warmth of tremendous pride, mingled with a little sadness and dismay that one day they must lose her to Tyrineld and the Academy - not that they would ever have let their own feelings hold her back. Brynne was glad that they trusted her enough to let her go, but she knew she would miss them.
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  She would miss her room, too, she thought, glancing round the snug little chamber with the walls panelled in dark wood, which had been hers for as long as she could remember. There were some spaces today on those walls and in the bookshelves, for she would be taking her favourite pictures and books with her, and they were already packed. She ran a hand over the brightly coloured patchwork quilt her mother had made, on the soft, warm bed in which she had dreamed so many dreams of magic and success, then turned away to brush her hair in front of the mirror.

  This is the last time I’ll do this, she thought, then snapped herself out of the nostalgic mood. Of course it isn’t. I’ll come back for holidays, for visits. Maybe when I’ve finished my studies, it’ll be my home again.

  She knew in her heart that it wouldn’t.

  How would she get on with the other students? Would she fit in? As an only child, she had never known the give and take of brothers and sisters. And there would be boys . . .

  ‘Pull yourself together, Brynne,’ she said out loud. ‘You’ve looked in the mirror often enough. Plump, plain, dull brown hair - you think you’ll need to bother about boys?’ She decided just to concentrate on her magic. Using her powers gave her such a thrill, and to think of developing them, working with them, seeing them grow day by day . . . Who needed anything more?