by Maggie Furey
The joy on Iriana’s face froze into a rictus of horror. ‘Never?’ she said in a small voice. ‘Avithan will never come back - ever?’
‘I’m sorry, my dear, but I must be truthful, no matter how much it may hurt. There is very little chance that Avithan will be able to return, though I will do my utmost to send him back. But now you, who love him, must make this decision for him, and for his parents. You know him best, Iriana. Would he want to be saved, and live in exile for all eternity? Or would he rather remain here, hovering between two worlds, neither alive nor dead? For I warn you, if I cannot undo the spell, then no one among the Wizards or the Phaerie will be able to do so.’
Iriana was utterly still. Even her tears had stopped falling. ‘Will you let me be alone with him for a while?’ Her voice seemed to come from very far away.
‘Of course.’ The Cailleach got to her feet. ‘When you’re ready, come downstairs and join the rest of us in the kitchen.’
Iriana waited for the sound of the door closing, then walked slowly over to Avithan, looking with Melik’s vision at that dear, still face, and wondering what to do. If Athina was wrong, and the Wizardly Healers could save him, then she would be condemning him to an eternal exile for nothing. Yet if she kept him in this world and no one could break the spell, she would have cost him his only chance of life.
Lying there, he was as white and still as a statue carved from alabaster. Was there any spark of consciousness remaining within the prison of the spell? Iriana knew that thoughts seemed to have little connection to time. Could they still exist if time did not? Was Avithan’s mind aware of what was going on around him but unable to reach out and communicate? Iriana shuddered. The notion filled her with horror. If she kept Avithan in this world, would she be condemning him to such a fate?
If she were in that position, she would rather be dead.
If only there was some way to reach his parents. She dreaded to think what Cyran and - perish the thought - Sharalind would say when they found out what had happened. She was willing to wager that they, at least, would want to try to save Avithan with Wizardly magic. They had not encountered the Cailleach, or witnessed her powers, nor heard the ring of sincerity in her voice and seen the truth behind her eyes. They would want Iriana to bring their son home to them.
Knowing this, wasn’t her decision straightforward? Surely the matter was out of her hands? She only had to get her companion back to Tyrineld - no simple task in itself - and pass the responsibility to the Archwizard and his soulmate. But the thought that somewhere, somehow, Avithan’s consciousness might be surviving, trapped and helpless, haunted her. When Athina said that the Wizards and Phaerie lacked the knowledge and power to free him, Iriana believed her. Her head told her to take the easy path, and hand Avithan over to his family as soon as possible. Her heart and gut said otherwise.
Athina had said that she would do her best to return him, and the Wizard trusted her word. Though she would be taking a terrible gamble, and risking Cyran’s wrath when he found out, she was sure that Avithan’s best chance lay beneath the Timeless Lake.
Iriana laid a hand on his cheek, but felt nothing but the cool, numbing tingle of the time spell. ‘Oh, my love,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve got to take the risk. I only hope you’ll understand.’
Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath. For better or worse, her decision was made.
Outside, beyond the tower, the ferals were arriving: hungry and footsore and, in the case of most of them, far from happy to be there. Looking at the lake, Danel was shocked and unnerved by the changes that had been wrought there. An island had suddenly appeared where none had existed before, lush with trees and mature, fruitful gardens. In their midst, a slender, elegant column of stone soared above the treetops, and a graceful bridge connected the island to the shore. The last time Danel had been here, about six months ago, there had been nothing like this; only the empty lake and the green, dark forest all around. Even if the island could have been constructed, even if such a perfect, finished structure as the tower could have been built in that time, where were the ugly scars that would stem from that work?
There was absolutely no disturbance to the land: no sign that both island and tower had not been there since the dawn of time. Danel shivered, and her feet felt rooted to the ground, unwilling and indeed unable to move any closer. She had fled into the forest in the first place to escape from magic and those who wielded it, and now all her instincts warned her that she was walking into a trap.
Yet it had been her own decision to come here: she had persuaded and browbeaten her followers very much against their wills. How could she retreat now? Run away into the forest with her tail between her legs? If she did, she knew that she would lose respect and authority that might never be regained.
Besides, her pride would not allow her to back down.
Curiosity had brought her here - that, and the desperate hope of somehow gaining an advantage for her people. Now she had put her leadership in jeopardy.
Beside her, Kelon stirred uneasily, plainly as reluctant as herself to be there. Suspecting that Taine and Aelwen had been brought here by the mysterious old woman, he had initially refused to come, but eventually Danel had persuaded him that if Athina was plotting something, it was important that the ferals know about it. Though, by his own admission, his powers of magic were slight, she felt a little safer having him along.
The restless fidgeting and muttering that had broken out among her followers jerked Danel out of her ruminations. ‘Well,’ she heard Evnas say, ‘are we going on, or back? Or shall we just stand here until we grow roots?’ He was spared the angry reply she was about to spit at him by the emergence of their host, Athina, or the Cailleach as she had also called herself, who emerged from the doorway of the tower and approached them.
She smiled at Danel and Kelon. ‘My friends, I bid you all be very welcome here. Though you would be too many for my tower, I have arranged a place for you to stay a little way westwards along the shore. Follow me, and I will show you.’
Danel had to admit that the campsite was very pleasant. A little way back from the water, a stand of young aspens had apparently been persuaded to bend and weave themselves into some half-dozen domed shelters, all roofed by living creeper and vine. Within, the floors were piled high with fragrant bracken, and soft, warm blankets were stacked neatly at the rear. Outside, a cheerful fire blazed, and grouped around it were a whole series of pots and dishes that steamed gently, giving off a savoury smell. Bread and cheese, apples and sweet pastries lay nearby on sparkling platters, and Danel could see that there was more than enough for everyone.
‘Rest, eat, refresh yourselves,’ the Cailleach said. ‘You will find soap and drying cloths within the shelters also, and clean, warm clothing. There are a number of things that must be said and done before the council can begin, but you will be called when it is time. Meanwhile, be at your ease. My magic guards this place, and nothing can harm you here.’
With that, she was gone. The ferals made a rush for the food, and all the grumblings and doubts changed into the clatter of spoon on plate, and muted murmurs of appreciation. Only Danel and Kelon ignored the feast. Both of them were staring at the tower. Seeing the scowl on Kelon’s face, Danel guessed that he was thinking about the one he had loved and lost, but her own anger stemmed from a different source. ‘Typical,’ she muttered. ‘The others, you’ll notice - all those bloody Wizards and Phaerie - are staying in the tower. But that’s too good for the humans. Will there ever come a time when we’ll be treated as equals?’ She scowled. ‘That Cailleach might fool these others,’ - she gestured behind her at her followers - ‘but I have a feeling that when it comes to using us, she’ll be no better than any of the magic-wielders. Well, let me tell you something, Kelon. I won’t have us turned into someone else’s pawn. If she’s expecting us just to roll over for her for the price of a hot meal, then she’s in for a surprise.’
After she had left the ferals, Athina talke
d at length with Corisand, who was resting beneath the trees. The mud had been washed from her legs, the snarls and twigs combed from her mane and her skin was tingling from the thorough rub down and brushing Aelwen had given her. She had enjoyed a hot meal - a warm mash - and was looking a great deal better. The Cailleach spoke to her at length, hearing how she became Windeye, her experiences in the Elsewhere and, most important of all, the history of the Fialan. At Corisand’s revelations, Athina felt a thrill of hope and excitement rush through her. No wonder the Windeye of the Xandim would have such an important part to play in the days to come!
Leaving her to rest, Athina went in search of Dael. Before she spoke to the others, she knew that she must no longer put off the thing she had been dreading most. At this point, he did not know that she must return to her own realm, leaving him here, alone and bereft. As soon as Uriel had departed, she had left to find the others in the forest, and when she had returned, exhaustion had claimed her - but not before she had come to a decision.
There was no way that she could leave Dael without a proper farewell, to mourn her as dead. She loved him too much for that. Hard as it would be for both of them, he deserved to know the truth and now, before she began her discussions with her guests, she must tell him. Knowing that he would be avoiding the Phaerie and the Wizards as much as possible, not to mention the feral visitors, she did not look for him inside the tower but rather walked around behind it to the edge of the lake. There, as she had expected, she found him, dangling a fishing line in the water and looking pensive and sad.
‘Dael, I—’
‘You’ve come to tell me you’re leaving, haven’t you?’ He got to his feet, his eyes stormy, his expression hard. ‘Well, you needn’t trouble yourself. I overheard you talking to Iriana. I already know, Athina. I already know - unless you’ve come to tell me it isn’t true, and that you’ve decided to stay here after all.’
This was worse than she could possibly have imagined. ‘Dael, I cannot.’
On hearing her words, he gave a low cry, as if she had dealt him a mortal blow, then sank, ashen-faced, to the ground. Athina, her heart torn and bleeding, sat down beside him, but when she tried to take his hand, he snatched it away.
‘You lied to me.’ His voice was low and barely under control. ‘You said I was like your son. I thought that meant we’d always be together. You gave me love, dignity, a place in the world and a future - and now you’re taking them away again.’ He turned and fixed his eyes on the silver, wind-whipped waters of the lake. ‘I should have known it was too good to be true.’
The Cailleach, weeping now, fought to find her voice. ‘In all the endless ages of my existence, I have dwelt beyond the worlds, beyond the boundaries of emotion. My only joy was the clean, pure pleasure of creation; my only sorrow that, once my worlds were complete, I had to release them to their fate. In coming here I broke the fundamental law of my kind - never to enter or interfere with a finished world. I never understood the reason for that law. I always thought it senseless - until now.
‘When I came here, everything changed. I became intoxicated with the pleasures of sensation, the quickening of such feelings within me that I had never known before. Then you came along and assuaged a profound loneliness I had always felt, without even knowing I felt it. I loved, and let that love blind me to so many harsh realities. I knew that you were human. That your lifespan was finite and would pass, for me, in the blink of an eye. I knew that as a mortal, without magic, you could never be brought back with me to the Timeless Lake. Yet I could not bear to lose you, and so I began to deceive myself. I would work something out, I thought. Surely, with all my powers, there would be a way to make you immortal, or endow you with some kind of magic, so that you could return with me. No matter that it had never been done before; I was a Creator, was I not? And after all, there would be time enough.’
She shook her head, and sighed bitterly. ‘I truly believed that there would be plenty of time. I, a Creator who should have known better, allowed myself to be blinded by love. I did not realise that descending to this lower world and working with its coarser forms of energy would sap my powers so quickly. It took a visit from my sibling to awaken me to the bitter truth. I now realise that the drain is accelerating with every moment. When I first came here, the loss was so insignificant: a mere trickle that I never even noticed. By the time I discovered my true peril, it was already far too late. So now I must return, while I can, or lose everything that I am.’
‘So what you’re saying is, you’ve been forced to make a choice,’ Dael said harshly, ‘and you’ve chosen your power and immortality over me. I suppose I can understand. I should have expected it all along, knowing the way my life has been so far - but I, too, let myself be blinded by love. Love.’ He spat on the ground. ‘I ought to know by now that love isn’t for the likes of me.’
He turned to face her, his face streaked with tears. ‘Lady, you have given me the happiest days of my life. You made me see that there was more to my existence than suffering, enslavement and pain. You gave me dignity and hope, as well as love. It was an inestimable gift. I should not be so churlish as to feel bitter because you have been forced to take it all back - but I do. I do.’
He took a deep breath, and clasped her hands in his own. ‘I can only hope that in time, the bitterness and the sense of betrayal will fade away, leaving only the memories of the perfect happiness and love I’ve known in my time with you. One thing is certain, though. I’ll never forget you. I’ll never stop loving you. And I’ll never cease to miss you, every single day of my life.’ He got to his feet and began to walk away, and his voice floated back to her on the cold, empty breeze. ‘Maybe we both should have known it was too good to last.’
Athina, Creator, powerful Immortal and the mother of worlds, put her face in her hands and sobbed. She realised that for the first time she was experiencing the negative aspects of these worldly emotions: sorrow and heartbreak; guilt and the pain of loss. How could the people of this mundane realm bear to live with such feelings? It was like being flayed alive. Perhaps I don’t belong here after all, she thought. It’s time I went home. She wiped the tears from her eyes and washed her face in the cool, clear waters of the lake. Then, with heavy steps, she made her way back to the tower.
When she left Avithan, Iriana decided that she just had to get away from everyone, if only for a little while. Though the last twenty-four hours had revealed a strength in her she had never suspected she possessed, her decision to let Avithan go had finally been one burden too many. Now she had lost everyone who had come on this ill-fated journey, Wizard and animal companions alike, with the exception of her beloved Melik. Just for a while, she told herself, she needed to let go and grieve. Then she could be strong again.
She snatched up her coat and went downstairs, peering into each room in turn. It became very clear that the tower was no good to her. Avithan was in the bedchamber belonging to Athina’s young human companion, and the Cailleach herself might return to her own room at any time. On the next floor down, Aelwen and Taine were asleep on the hearthrug in front of the fire in the main living area, locked in one another’s arms, and the other door was mysteriously locked. The kitchen was empty, but was too much of a thoroughfare: anyone might walk in there at any moment.
As Iriana left the tower, she heard a murmur of voices coming from behind the building. That accounted for Athina and Dael. Wanting to get away from the island, she slipped quietly across the bridge. To her right, a little way along the lakeside, she saw the feral camp, and the wind brought the sound of voices and the smell of food from that direction.
Iriana went left.
She walked around the curve of the lake until she found a pretty beach covered in tawny pebbles and screened by alders and a bank of arching fern. Sitting down on the dry shingle with Melik beside her, she looked out over the silvery surface of the lake. From this position the tower was hidden, and she was glad of the privacy. As time crawled past, she sat there as i
f paralysed, her thoughts a whirl of images of those she’d lost, her emotions a hard, burning core within her that grew ever larger but could find no release.
I could have done more . . .
I should have done more . . .
Had I been a better fighter or a better Wizard . . .
Surely there was some way I could have helped them . . .
Feeling her attention slacken, Melik turned away from the water and began some hunting on his own account, nosing curiously among the ferns behind her, while the Wizard remained lost in her dark labyrinth of pain; unable to escape, berating herself for being weak and self-pitying, which only made matters worse.
She never heard the footsteps approaching behind her; knew nothing until a soft nose nudged her shoulder and a voice called her name in mindspeech. She leapt up in panic, suddenly realising that she had carelessly let Melik wander, and her view now consisted of nothing but a tangle of lush green undergrowth and a large, iridescent beetle trundling its way through the miniature jungle. Disorientated, she stumbled, only to fetch up against the soft, warm hide of a horse, which saved her from a fall.