Furey, Maggie - Artifacts of Power 4 - Dhiammara

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DHIAMMARA

A Bantam Spectra Book / November 1997

SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed "s" are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam

Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or

mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the publisher.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property.

It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the

publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

ISBN 0-553-57557-0

Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group,

Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is

Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam

Books, 1540 Broadway. New York, New York 10036.__________

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ; OPM 0987654321

This one is for those special friends who have given their unstinting help and support to Eric and

myself over the last twelve hair-raising months:

Sheila Mawer and Geoff Green, for putting us up and putting up with us during the homeless months

of the House move.

Diane Duane and Peter Morwood, for taking us by the hand and leading us safely through the

minefield of the move to Ireland.

Philomena and Michael O'Connor—whose warm and wonderful company is a joy and an inspiration.

And Donal Cunningham, Computer-Mage without peer, who, among many other kindnesses, was

instrumental in getting this manuscript delivered on time. (He makes a mean chocolate truffle,

too!)

Thanks, guys—for everything.

THE STORY SO FAR . . .

Long ago, four magical weapons had been fashioned by Mages whose history was lost, together with

the Artifacts themselves, in the Cataclysm—horrific wars of magic which wrought changes on land

and water. Lost also was the history of the non-human Mages: the Winged Ones, the Dragonfolk, and

the great Leviathan—or so said ancient legends.

Aurian, growing up in her mother's lonely Valley, knows nothing of these tales. Yet when she meets

Forral, a wandering swordsman, the encounter changes not only their lives, but the future course

of history.

Aurian's father, Geraint, perished through misuse of his Fire-magic, and her grieving mother, the

Earth-Mage Eilin, is obsessed with restoring the Valley—the barren crater left by the explosion.

Forral stays to care for the neglected child and teaches her swordplay. A close bond develops

between them until Aurian is sent to the city of Nexis and the Academy, home of the few remaining

Magefolk, where she can be fully trained as a Mage.

Homesick and missing Forral, Aurian turns to the Arch-mage Miathan, unaware of his sinister plans

for her. She incurs the enmity of the Weather-Mage Eliseth and her cohorts

V I t t

The Story So Far

Bragar and Davorshan, and is befriended by Finbarr the Archivist and D'arvan, Davorshan's twin,

who is unable to access his powers. As she grows to adulthood, her studies are diverted by the

return of Forral as Commander of the Nexis Garrison. Aurian resumes sword training and makes new

friends at the Garrison—Lieutenant Maya and Panic, the Cavalrymaster. The bond between Forral and

Aurian ripens into mature love, but matings between Mortals and Magefolk are forbidden. In the

meantime, Miathan begins to force his attentions on her.

Elsewhere in Nexis, Anvar, son of a baker, is sold as a bondservant to the Archmage. He is truly

Miathan's son—a half-breed Mage whose mother has kept his identity secret. Miathan steals his

powers, binding him with a spell of silence. After months of toil and brutality, he escapes,

seeking his lover Sara, who was pregnant when they parted. But she has lost the child and married

Vannor, Head of the Merchants' Guild. When Anvar is recaptured, Aurian defies the Arch-mage to

claim him as her servant.

In the catacombs beneath the Academy, Miathan discovers a grail fashioned from the Caldron of

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Rebirth, one of the lost Artifacts of Power. When Aurian and Forral become lovers, the jealous

Archmage turns the grail to evil, cursing any child that may come of their union to take the form

of the first beast Aurian sees after its birth.

Eliseth persuades Meiriel to negate Aurian's spells against pregnancy, knowing that Miathan will

never countenance Portal's half-breed child. Davorshan tries to murder his brother, and D'arvan

flees to Aurian's mother, who can help him find his powers. Maya goes with him to the Valley.

Miathan discovers that Aurian is pregnant and tries to destroy the child, but Anvar warns Ferral

and Vannor. When Forral attacks, Miathan unleashes Death-Wraiths—spirits who feed on life

force—from the grail, and Forral is slain.

Aurian and Anvar escape Nexis by ship, taking Sara with them at Vannor's request. Aurian's one

hope of defeating Miathan is to find the three lost Artifacts—but time is limited, for as her

pregnancy progresses, she will lose her powers until the child is born. Then to her horror, she

feels Miathan's mind, searching the seas for her with magic.

When Maya and D'arvan reach the Valley, Eilin tells D'arvan that his true father is HeHorin, Lord

of the Phaerie—a powerful race of Elemental beings exiled from the world by

The Story So Far... / x

ancient Magefolk. Maya and D'arvan become lovers and stay in the Vale.

At sea, Aurian discovers the wise and powerful whales— the ancient Mage race of Leviathan. When

she uses her powers to help them, the Archmage finds her and Eliseth conjures a storm to sink the

ship. In the ensuing battle with Miathan, Aurian blinds him.

Aurian, Anvar, and Sara are rescued by the Leviathan, but the storm has blown them to the unknown

Southern Kingdoms. Sara seduces Anvar, and Aurian leaves with the Leviathan Ithalasa, who reveals

the lost history of the Magefolk. Aurian learns of the missing Artifacts: the Staff of Earth, the

Harp of Winds, and the Sword of Flame, created by the Dragon-folk for one hand alone to wield.

Ithalasa does not know where they can be found.

Anvar and Sara are captured by the Khazalim, a fierce desert race, and taken to the city of

Taibeth, where Anvar is sold as a slave and Sara goes to the harem of Xiang, the ruler. Given the

chance to become queen, she callously consigns Anvar to his fate. Aurian reaches Taibeth and is

sentenced to fight in the Arena. Here she befriends Eliizar, disillusioned Swordmaster, and his

wife Nereni. She hopes to find Anvar, but first she must fight the fearsome Black Demon, against

whom no one has survived.

Miathan sends Davorshan to kill Aurian's mother. D'arvan slays him, but not before Eilin is

mortally wounded. To save her, D'arvan and Maya, along with Eilin, pass into the realm of the

Forest Lord, where Eilin must remain in order to survive. Hellorin explains that the Dragons gave

the Sword of Flame into the care of the Phaerie, who must now return it to the world. Once the

Artifact is claimed, the Phaerie will be freed. Hellorin conceals the Sword in the Valley, and

Maya is transformed into a Guardian—an invisible unicorn. D'arvan brings the Wildwood to the

Valley, making it a haven for Miathan's foes.

Aurian fights in the Arena before Xiang, his son, and his new queen, Sara. She survives the first

bouts but is wounded, and now must face the Demon: Shia, a fierce great cat from an intelligent

race. When the Mage communicates mentally with her, Shia claims her as a friend. Harihn, Xiang's

son, takes Aurian and Shia under his protection. While her wounds heal, she is cared for by a

eunuch, Bohan, and wins his heart

The Story So

Fa r

x i

with her kindness. Anvar is found dying in the Khisu's slave pens. Aurian battles Death for his

spirit and prevails.

Before Anvar can be warned of Sara's treachery, Xiang's soldiers attack. Anvar and Harihn are

sentenced to death. Aurian escapes from the dungeons, freeing Shia and Harihn's men. With Yazour,

their captain, she storms the throne room, taking Xiang prisoner. Harihn will not accept the

throne from a Mage and a woman. He frees Xiang on condition that he and his people may leave the

kingdom and cross the desert. Anvar begs Sara to join him, but she repudiates him cruelly. Eliizar

and Nereni join the fugitives.

In Nexis, Eliseth holds the land in an extended winter. Vannor, Panic, and their rebels, hide in

the sewers beneath Nexis. Miathan believes that Aurian is alive and in the South. Elewin, the

Academy's Chief Steward, warns Panic, who decides to go in search of her. The rebels escape the

city with Meiriel, who has been driven mad by the loss of her soul-mate, Finbarr. They find

sanctuary with Vannor's friends the Nightrunners, an elusive smuggling community who are already

sheltering the merchant's daughter Zanna. Vannor's rebels head for the Valley, seeking Aurian's

mother, while Par-ric, with Meiriel, Elewin, and the warrior Sangra, journey to the Southern Lands

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in search of Aurian herself.

In the desert, Anvar quarrels with Harihn. His rage is strong enough to break Miathan's spell, and

his powers draw his spirit back to Nexis, where he snatches back his magic from the Archmage.

Aurian offers to teach him to use his powers, and his training begins.

Meanwhile, across the desert in the mountain city of Aeril-lia, the Winged Folk are dying in

Eliseth's unnatural winter, which is spreading across the world. Blacktalon, the corrupt High

Priest, claims he can turn aside the deadly cold and demands to be wedded to the Princess Raven,

heir to the throne. Raven flees, heading south across the desert.

Harihn's band reach Dhiammara—a solitary mountain in the desert where a mysterious portal opens in

the rock, snatching Aurian away. When she cannot be found, Harihn abandons her companions.

Aurian's loss brings home to Anvar how much he loves her. With Shia's help he finds the portal,

and he is reunited with Aurian. They emerge in the abandoned city of the Dragonfolk, and discover

Raven. Forral's ghost leads Aurian to the last Dragon, who tells her that she is the One for whom

the Sword of Flame was forged, but first

The Story So Far . . .

she must win the Staff of Earth. Aurian succeeds and now holds one of the Artifacts.

The Mage is reunited with her comrades and Yazour, who has left the Prince and returned with

horses. Eliseth creates a lethal sandstorm to slay them. Aurian's powers have vanished due to her

pregnancy, but with the help of the Staff, she and Anvar defeat Eliseth and cross the desert

safely. But Miathan is not done with them, for he has learned to free his spirit from the fetters

of his body and send it abroad to work mischief....

Aurian and her companions find sanctuary in the forest beyond the desert, where Harihn and his

troops are also encamped. The Prince has met with the roving spirit of Miathan and made an unholy

bargain, allowing the Archmage to occupy his body at need. Miathan also enlists the aid of Black-

talon, who has poisoned Raven's mother. Harihn seduces Raven, persuading her to betray the Mages.

She offers to guide them across the mountains to the Tower of Incondor, where the Archmage and

Blacktalon have laid an ambush.

Across the mountains, in the lands of the Xandim Horse-folk, a Seer receives a vision on the

winds. Chiamh, the despised, reclusive Windeye of the Xandim, discovers powers of evil reaching

out from the north toward two Bright Ones beyond the mountains. At the risk of destroying his

tribe, he knows he must aid them in their fight against darkness.

The Xandim are shape-shifters, existing in either human or equine form. They capture Parric and

his companions and sentence them to death. Chiamh rescues them with the help of Basileus, a

Moldan—the living mind and soul of the Wynd-veil mountain.

Vannor, now settled with his rebels in the Vale, under D'ar-van's unseen guidance, hears that his

daughter Zanna has left the Nightrunner hideout and returned to Nexis. He sets off to search for

her with the veteran warrior Hargorn, but is captured by Miathan.

Aurian's band reach the Tower of Incondor and are attacked by Blacktalon's Skyfolk and Harihn's

troops. Shia, at the Mage's urging, flees with the Staff of Earth. Yazour, though wounded,

escapes. Aurian is imprisoned in the tower to await the birth of her son, whom Miathan plans to

kill. Anvar is taken to the Skyfolk city of Aerillia as a hostage. Yazour is found by Schian-nath,

a Xandim outlaw exiled from his homeland with his sister Iscalda, condemned by the Herdlord

Phalihas to exist solely

X i I

The Story So Fa. r

t o r y So F 2

x i i t

in her equine shape: a white mare. Using the Staff to communicate, Shia convinces Schiannath to

help the wounded warrior.

Raven is taken back to Aerillia. Blacktalon plans to wed her to consolidate his power, but first

he destroys her wings. She attempts to kill herself, but her life is saved by the physician Elster

and her apprentice Cygnus, formerly a secret supporter of the High Priest.

In Nexis, Hargorn is wounded by the troops of Pendral, a cruel, corrupt merchant, and is rescued

by Jarvas, who runs a refuge for destitute Nexians. Hargom is cared for by the physician Benziorn

and his assistant Emmie, who finds two strays— a starving white dog and a boy, Grince. She takes

them back to the refuge, along with the dog's litter of puppies.

To reach Aerillia, Shia must cross the lands of her own people. Helped by the old cat Hreeza and

the young male Khanu, she wins her way through. The two others join her.

Remana, mother of Yanis, the Nightrunner leader, goes with her son and Zanna's friend Tarnal to

Nexis, to find Van-nor and his daughter. Seeking the help of Jarvas, they row up-river by night

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and make their way into Nexis via the sewers, emerging to find Jarvas's refuge under attack by

Pendral's soldiers. Remana helps the refugees escape through the sewers, taking them back to the

smuggler hideout at Wyvernesse, but Grince is left behind. Benziom remains to search for him,

while Yanis and Tarnal stay in Nexis to find Zanna.

Vannor is captured by Miathan and imprisoned within the Mages' Tower. He discovers that Zanna is

already there, in the guise of Eliseth's maid.

At the request of the wounded Yazour, Schiannath climbs the Tower of Incondor and finds Aurian.

She refuses to be rescued while Anvar is a hostage, but agrees to signal the Xandim for his

assistance when her child is born.

Chiamh has rescued Panic and his companions, but Meiriel, now dangerously insane, has vanished

into the mountains. To gain the help of the Xandim, Panic challenges Phalihas for leadership or

the tribe and becomes Herdlord. The Windeye traps Phalihas in his equine form, and acting on

Chiamh's Vision, Parric takes a troop of warriors to Aurian's rescue.

Anvar has been imprisoned by the Skyfolk in a cave high on a cliff. Shia makes a near-impossible

climb to bring him the Staff, and he uses it to pass through the mountain to the city of Aerillia.

The Mage slays Blacktalon, but the Moldan of Aerillia, who wants the Staff, causes an earthquake

and traps

him underground. Unable to attack in her earthly form, the Moldan transports Anvar to another

dimension—the Elsewhere of such elemental beings as the Moldan and the Phaerie. Here she takes the

form of a monster, and attacks.

Miathan, in Harihn's body, attacks Aurian, who goes into labor. Wolves come to her rescue and

Harihn is slain by the pack leader—and as Miathan's curse takes effect, Aurian's child assumes the

shape of a wolf cub. When Parric and Chiamh reach the tower, the Windeye frees Iscalda from her

equine shape, and Parric, as Herdlord, pardons Schiannath the outlaw. Aurian journeys with Chiamh

to Aerillia, in search of Anvar.

Hellorin, Lord of the Phaerie, discovers the presence of the Staff of Earth in his realm, and with

Aurian's mother goes to Anvar's rescue. The Moldan is destroyed, and Hellorin sends Anvar Between

the Worlds to the Timeless Lake, to seek the Harp of Winds. Anvar evades the traps set by the

Cailleach, guardian of the Harp, and claims the Artifact for his own. He returns to Aerillia and

finds Aurian, and at last they affirm their love. Using the Artifacts to break the deadly power of

Eliseth's winter, they bring spring back to the world.

Aurian's companions journey to Aerillia, where Raven is crowned Queen. The Mages rejoice in their

new love and the claiming of another Artifact, unaware that jealous eyes watch them. Cygnus is

convinced that the Harp should be returned to the Skyfolk.

To Nereni's dismay, Eliizar's fear of magic convinces him to return south with some of the Winged

Folk and the remainder of Harihn's soldiers and servants, to set up an independent colony in the

forest close to the desert. Reluctantly, they say farewell to the Mages.

In the North, the Nexian refugees shelter with the Night-runners. Back in Nexis, young Grince and

the surviving pup from the white dog's litter are hiding in the deserted Grand Arcade. For the

sake of his beloved dog, he embarks on a life of thievery.

In Aerillia, Raven is facing difficulties in her new role of Queen. Her only allies are Elster and

Aguila, Captain of the Guard. Skua, the new High Priest, is plotting against her, together with

Sunfeather, one of Aerillia's warrior elite—and JCygnus, who still wants the Harp of Winds for

himself and jlplots to prevent the Skyfolk from assisting Aurian in her quest.

X I V

The Story So F2 r

x v

Elster advises Raven to marry Aguila, for she needs his strength and support.

Aurian and her companions travel to the Xandim Fastness, aided by winged couriers sent by Raven,

On arrival, they are ambushed by the mad Healer-Mage Meiriel, aided by Gristheena, the brutal

leader of the great cats. Meiriel kidnaps Wolf, but the Mages and Chiamh track her down and Aurian

slays her. Shia defeats Gristheena, but leaves Hreeza to rule the cats so that she herself can

remain with Aurian.

Panic's term as Herdlord is coming to an end. The Xandim revolt against him, and while the

companions are escaping their attackers, Bohan falls from the cliffs behind the Fastness and dies.

Backed by Chiamh, Panic nominates Schi-annath to Challenge in his place. The former outlaw battles

Phalihas and, on killing him, becomes Herdlord.

In Nexis, Vannor is still the captive of the Magefolk. Though Miathan will not permit her to kill

him, Eliseth has discovered that she can use Mortal pain to increase her powers, and mangles

Vannor's hand. Zanna has manipulated herself into the role of Eliseth's maid, hoping to spy on the

Mages. When she discovers her father, she rescues him and they escape via the archives and the

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sewers. They find sanctuary with Hebba, Vannor's cook, who is also sheltering Tarnal, Ya-nis, and

the physician Benziom, who is forced to amputate Vannor's injured hand. They all escape from Nexis

and flee back to the Nightrunners.

In a vision, Chiamh discovers that the Sword of Flame is hidden in the Lady Eilin's Valley. The

Mages and their companions make plans to return to the North, unaware of the fact that Eliseth has

sent Bern to infiltrate the rebel camp in the Vale.

In the city of Taibeth, Sara is alone, for Xiang has headed north across the desert in search of

his son Harihn, unaware that the Prince is already dead. Sara has evolved a plan to dupe Xiang

with a feigned pregnancy during his absence. On reaching the far side of the desert, Xiang finds

the forest occupied by Eliizar and his folk—who are ready for invaders. Xiang's forces are

vanquished and he is slain by Eliizar himself. As long as Sara can carry out her deception to its

conclusion and produce a child from somewhere at the proper time, she will be in an unassailable

position of power as the mother of Xiang's successor.

On reaching the coast of the Southern Lands, Aurian sum-

Th e Story So Fa. r . . .

mons the Leviathan Ithalasa. Risking the disapproval of his people, he agrees to take Chiamh,

Panic, and Sangra on his back so that they can contact Yanis and arrange for Night-runner ships to

take the Mages and the Xandim forces provided by Schiannath back to the North. Before they can

board the ships, Cygnus joins them. Though he has deceived Raven into sending him to assist the

Mages, he has truly come to steal the Harp by any possible means.

In Nexis, Eliseth sees in her scrying crystal that Aurian has returned. She makes a treacherous

attack on Miathan, takes him out of time and steals the Grail of Rebirth. With a force of

mercenaries, she advances on the Valley to battle the Mages and their allies on the outskirts.

D'arvan, the Wildwood's guardian, lets Aurian's folk pass within. When Eliseth finds herself

barred from entering, she calls down lightning to set the woods ablaze.

When Aurian reaches the lake, she is attacked by Maya, but breaks the spell and returns her old

friend to her human form. When the Mage tries to claim the Sword, it demands a sacrifice—the blood

of a loved one. Rather than make such a bargain, Aurian forfeits the Artifact. The Phaerie, freed

by the Sword but unable to swear allegiance to its wielder, are loosed upon the world and turn the

Xandim back to their equine form. Cygnus, seeing his chance, attacks Anvar, and as Aurian rushes

to his aid, Eliseth steals the Sword. When she tries to wield it together with the Grail, however,

she rends open the fabric of time, vanishing with Anvar through the gap. Aurian follows, along

with D'arvan, Maya, Chiamh, Schiannath, and the great cats Shia and Khanu. All of them are lost in

time and hurtling toward an unknown fate.

NORTHERN

LANDS Nexi Noa berth

The Valley ' • \'^JJ ;*. _ —> i-— _ ^~i^f' I

eatland: Southern Hills

.Wyvernesse Easthaven

Aerillia

Tower of Incondor

SOUTHERN KINGDOMS

Chapter 1

The Last of the Magefolk

When the wizard failed to master the Sword of Flame, the Phaerie were free at last. To Hel-lorin,

it was a stroke of good fortune beyond belief that the flame-haired Magewoman had not only,

through her weakness, granted his people the liberty they had craved, but had also been the means

of restoring the Phaerie steeds that had lived for so long in human guise, far across the sea.

"Ride, my children," he roared exultantly. "Let the world tremble, for the Phaerie ride once

more!"

"No," Eilin shouted. "Lord, you must not do this. Let the Xandim go. These are intelligent

beings!"

For an instant, the Forest Lord hesitated. While the Mage had been trapped in his realm they had

become close friends, and she had meant a good deal to him—but now that he could exercise his

Maggie Furey Vhia.mm3.r3.

will again nothing must interfere with his freedom. The days of the Magefolk were over, and once

again the Phaerie could take the world and shake it to its foundations. Hellorin shrugged,

dismissing Eilin from his mind along with his softhearted son, who would have left the Phaerie

steeds in their useless human form. D'arvan would be taught to know better in times to come.

With a spine-wrenching leap, the white mare sprung skyward. The heart of the Forest Lord, fettered

and earthbound for so long, soared with his Phaerie steed as her hooves spurned the ground and she

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sped aloft, with stretching strides, along a path of invisible air. So intent was he on his

triumph that he failed to notice the gate in time that the Sword of Flame had opened behind him.

He did not see D'arvan, his son, leap through the gateway after Aurian, to be whirled away into

oblivion.

Scores of voices took up Hellorin's cry as his people followed; shadowy figures no longer, but

comely and clad in radiant flesh: soaring behind him on their own mounts, who but moments before

had worn the guise, and held the consciousness and intelligence, of mortal men. Higher and higher

the Phaerie climbed, swarming upward like a drift of dark smoke as they followed their Lord into

the heavens. Those who remained earthbound, through lack of sufficient horses, scattered into the

forest as though they planned to follow the Hunt on foot.

The Forest Lord glanced proudly back at his followers, his triumph marred only by the fact that

this gathering was but a pallid reflection of the great ridings of old, for little more than

fivescore of the Phaerie steeds had come with the strangers to the Vale. Therefore many of his

folk could not take to the skies. Firmly, he shrugged the thought aside, determined not to let

such comparisons mar this great and triumphal moment. If the missing horses were on this side of

the ocean they would be found—and if they were still lost across the seas, beyond the powerful

reach of the Phaerie, then others could easily be bred from the stock that had been recovered

today. Casting such mundane matters firmly from his mind, Hellorin reveled in his new freedom,

breathing in great drafts of the icy wind that stung his face and burned thinly in his lungs.

Glancing earthward, he gloried in the power of his Phaerie mount as the white mare leapt from

cloud to cloud, striking thunderbolts with her silver hooves.

Far below, Hellorin's keen eyes spied human shapes: a throng of fleeing Mortals who were swarming

like ants through the smoldering trees near the rim of the Vale. Though such creatures had their

uses, they must first be taught a lesson— that the Phaerie were their masters now. With a

triumphant howl, the Forest Lord called up his pack of great hounds and spurred the white mare,

sending her hurtling downward, toward the invaders. His people followed, curving down out of the

sky like shooting stars, their eyes ablaze with the thirsting lost for Mortal blood; their voices

upraised in a shrill, discordant song of battle that sliced the air like blades. One by one, the

mercenaries who had followed Eliseth on her ill-fated raid were hunted down like deer amid the

trees, and like deer were slaughtered while the earth amid the roots of the tortured forest drank

deeply of their blood. Only when all the Mortals had been slain did the Phaerie look around them

for other prey.

In the center of the Vale's great bowl, on the shores of the lake, the Earth-Mage Eilin shuddered

to hear the death-screams of the slaughtered Mortals. The Phaerie Lord's treachery was a minor

matter when compared with the loss of her daughter, but the betrayal hurt nonetheless. Eilin,

almost crushed beneath the weight of her grief, stood numb and irresolute. Only her stubborn pride

kept her on her feet. For the second time in her life, she beheld die destruction of all that she

held dear—her daughter, her home, her hopes. The first time, when Geraint had died and her life

had fallen apart in ruin, she had risen above grief and disaster to build a productive and

purposeful life from the rubble of her dreams—but she was older now: crushed, bewildered, and

alone. How could she ever find |he strength and courage to pick up the pieces a second time?

Beside her, Vannor and Parric, the erstwhile companions er daughter, stood at the forefront of the

band of rebels had been sheltered in her Valley during her absence in vjpe otherworldly Phaerie

Realm. Through her constant vigil •t Hellorin's magic window that had looked out on her own

jSlorld, she had come to know all these folk over the last . 'Sponths—with the exception of one, a

stranger; by his color-

; and facial structure a foreigner from across the seas, where

magic of the Forest Lord's window did not reach.

None of these Mortals meant anything to Eilin—save that

Maggie Furey 10 h i a m m a. r

she couldn't wait for them to leave. The Mage wanted her Valley to herself again—she wanted time

to repair the devastation that had been visited upon her by the Weather-Mage Eliseth, and solitude

in which to assimilate the horror of losing a daughter and the pain of her betrayal by the Phaerie

Lord. There was no help for it, however. These people had been Aurian's friends and companions.

They were as stunned as Eilin by the horrors of the day, and she knew they would need to rest and

collect themselves before she could be rid of them at last. They would find no surcease from her,

though—she had nothing left to give. Let the Mortals shift for themselves!

Of all the folk who had survived the dreadful events of that day, Dulsina, who had scarcely known

the Lady Aurian, seemed best equipped to cope. As she looked around at her devastated companions,

the woman realized that if they were to spend the night in a comparative degree of comfort,

everything would be up to her. Panic had wandered away from the others and was standing with his

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back to them, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped in grief and defeat. Even at this distance

Dulsina could hear the bloodcurdling sound of his ceaseless cursing. Sangra was struggling

valiantly, with little success, to stifle her tears. She was grasping the hilt of her sword so

tightly that her hands were a knot of bones, as if by force of arms she could defeat the sense of

dread and desolation that had overtaken her.

Fional, though utterly distraught at the loss of his friend D'arvan, was with the stranger—the

exotic man with a tanned face, long dark hair, and the lithe, muscled body of a dancer. The archer

was trying his best to calm the stranger as he cried out loudly in rage and anguish, in some

foreign tongue, while Vannor—dear, good-hearted Vannor, who, up to a moment ago seemed so calm and

collected—had sat down on the ground so abruptly that it looked as though his knees had turned to

water, his hand across his eyes. Worst of all, the Lady Eilin stood unmoving, a little apart from

the others, her eyes blazing with a bleak and terrible light in a face that had been turned to

stone.

Someone would have to take care of them all—that much was plain. Perhaps, Dulsina thought, it

might be better if they could leave this unhappy place with its tragic associations and return to

what remained of the rebel camp—if, as she hoped,

tfaeir sanctuary had been spared from the blaze. Her companions, however, seemed unable to rouse

themselves from their ^jjhocked and grieving lassitude—and when she tried to persuade the Lady

Eilin, she was repulsed by an impenetrable wall of ice, and behind it, a blaze of suppressed rage

that Seared like flames.

There was little in life that daunted Dulsina, but the way the Mage's eyes looked straight through

her chilled her to the fceart. For her very life, she dared not push Eilin any further— |br she

was certain that the next time the Lady's dreadful «ze turned upon her, it would not be chill with

indifference but burning with wrath. Dulsina, no fool, changed her plans with alacrity. We can

move what's left of the encampment here, she decided briskly. The Gods only know, we'll need some

comforts about us, after the terrible things we've seen and suffered today. The sun will be

setting before much longer, and we must have food and shelter organized before it gets dark.

Already the sun was sinking into the wrack of smoke that bung over the Vale like a grim, grey

pall. Dulsina sighed. Surely there must be someone here who could help her? Someone sensible, and

capable, who was still in possession of his wits? It was with a sense of profound thankfulness

that die noticed Hargorn, standing a short distance away on the shore of the lake. The veteran was

looking out across the water at the island, leaning heavily on his sword, which he had planted,

point down, in the muddy bank of the lake. As she approached him, Dulsina's relief vanished

abruptly. For the first time since she had met him, Hargorn looked like an

tman. But as he heard her footsteps he straightened, and ugh there were telltale glints of

moisture on his seamed fefce as he turned toward her, he was dry-eyed and seemed in hill

possession of his wits—save for the dread, bitter empti-fless that lurked behind his gaze.

— "Maya's gone," he said softly, before Dulsina could speak.

*$he poor lass was here in the Vale all the time and I never fcnew it—and now she's gone again."

His voice sank to a whis-"I was always so proud of her—what she made of herself, didn't know it,

but she was like the daughter I never L" Then he shook himself, and his eyes became alert once 5.

"But there's no sense in mourning her as if she's dead we don't know for sure," he added

decisively. "Maya Id have a thing or two to say about that—she's got more

6 M aggie F u r ey

balls than most men put together—sorry, lovey," he apologized to Dulsina, remembering, belatedly,

that he was not talking to one of his men. "What can I do for you, anyway?"

Dulsina had to swallow back her own sadness before she could reply. His words had reminded her of

the Solstice Eve when she had lost Vannor's daughter in the crowded Grand Arcade. Maya and the

Lady Aurian had rescued Zanna from the throng and brought her back safely to the carriage. The two

young women, warrior and Mage but the fastest of friends, so full of the courage and promise of

youth, had been through so much hardship and suffering since then—and now both of them were gone.

"Come on, now," Hargorn gently interrupted her thoughts. "It doesn't do to dwell on it—I shouldn't

have set you off. The Gods help anyone who dares to tangle with Maya and Aurian—and standing

around here like a bunch of wet hens won't get us anywhere, either. Thank goodness the two of us

are here—somebody's got to have their wits about them."

Dulsina smiled, comforted by the warm sense of comradeship that existed between them. She and the

ageing warrior had shared a soft spot for each other ever since he had smuggled her to the Valley

with the rest of the rebels after Vannor had forbidden her to come.

Taking a grip on herself, the woman explained her predicament to Hargorn: "The Lady Eilin won't

shift from this \ spot, poor thing, and the rest of them are more like headless chickens than wet

hens. We need to get a camp together before nightfall... ." ;

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"Don't worry," the veteran reassured her. "I'll round up v our folk and get them busy. I'll set

some of them to building,"* shelters, if you can come back to the camp with the rest of us y and

choose what you want us to bring. We can be back here < with food and blankets in no time."

As he hurried off, Dulsina noticed that his sword was still where he had left it—planted in the

mud of the lakeside. Hargorn wasn't usually so absentminded. Was age catching up with the veteran

at last? She called him back. "Hargorn— you've forgotten your sword."

He looked at her bleakly, and shook his head. "It was a sword that was responsible for this

disaster in the first place. I'm finished with fighting, Dulsina. I haven't the heart for it

anymore—not after today. I'll never touch a sword again."

m m 2 r a.

After a time, Parric pulled himself out of his dazed reverie, and realized with dismay that dusk

had fallen. He was aghast to discover how long he had been simply standing there, lost in anguish

and horror—and thoroughly ashamed to find that Dulsina and Hargorn had been forced to cope alone.

They had managed very well without him, the Cavalrymaster admitted—but it shouldn't have been

necessary.

"Don't worry about it," Dulsina told him. "Once we got our belongings moved from the old camp, the

rest was easy. There's dry wood enough for burning now, on the edge of the fires where the trees

are still just smoldering—and there was no need to hunt. Lots of animals were killed by the

smoke—if you look in the woods there are bodies all over the place." A slight catch in her voice

and her pale, strained face were the only things about her that hinted to Parric of the carnage

she had witnessed in the forest.

Now that Dulsina had mentioned it, the Cavalrymaster became aware, for the first time, of the

mouthwatering aromas of roasting meat. A short distance away from him, a rough camp was taking

shape, with primitive shelters constructed from wooden frameworks draped with blankets, cloaks,

and hides. A huge fire blazed like a beacon on the shores of the lake, with a cluster of smaller

cooking fires close by.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Parric asked guiltily.

"Yes," Dulsina told him. "You can go and comfort your friend Sangra and that poor young man you

brought with you from foreign parts."

The Cavalrymaster looked through the gathering darkness, across the sward to where Sangra and

Yazour were sitting close to the fire, deep in talk and holding tightly to one another's hands.

"It looks like the two of them are managing well enough without me," he grumbled. "Where's

Vannor?"

The deep line of a frown appeared between Dulsina's dark brows. "Never you mind about him," she

retorted firmly. "You go and help your young friends over there. I've dealt with Vannor

myself—instead of letting him sit there and brood, I've sent him to talk to the Lady Eilin. The

Gods only know, someone ought to do it."

Eilin cursed and clenched her fists at her sides in annoyance as she saw the Mortal approaching.

Once her unwelcome guests had begun to set up their camp—near the very beech

8 Maggie Furey

grove where Forral had first made his shelter, she thought, with a flash of old pain that she'd

believed to be long behind her—the Mage, seeking solitude, had retreated across the charred and

splintered wooden bridge to the sanctuary of her island. No one, she'd been certain, would dare to

follow her there. How wrong she had been—but when Eilin's unwelcome visitor came close enough to

be recognized, she found that she was not in the least surprised.

Over the years the Mage had heard a great deal about Vannor from Aurian, during her daughter's

summer visits. More recently she had observed him through Hellorin's magical window until his rash

return to Nexis in search of his daughter, and had been impressed by the compassionate,

levelheaded way in which he'd ruled his band of rebels who had taken sanctuary in her Valley. He

had been the first to recognize that his folk were being helped, albeit by some mysterious,

invisible entity—in this case, D'arvan—and he had made his followers obey the strictures and

limitations that the Forest Lord's son had set about the rebel camp.

Nevertheless, despite her respect for the former rebel leader, Eilin was still irritated by his

unwelcome intrusion upon her peace. No doubt he would be wanting to discuss the details and

possible repercussions of Eliseth's attack and disappearance—and what of Miathan? What part had

the Arch-mage played in the drama that had occurred? What would he do next? The Mage sighed. May

the Gods forgive me—I just can't face this, she thought. She knew that these matters were

important, and would eventually have to be addressed—but not just yet. She was too heartsick and

weary right now to worry about the future.

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In the blood-red light of the setting sun, Eilin stepped back from the bridge and deliberately

turned away from the approaching Mortal to regard the ruins of her old home. Following the

vanishment of the Sword of Flame, the tower had returned to the Lady's island—after a fashion. The

damage by wind and weather, the scarred black stone and twisted ironwork, the fallen ceilings and

gaping windows with their drifts of shattered crystal, the sense of desolation and

abandonment—these sights were painful beyond all bearing. How will I ever build it up again? she

thought desperately. Where should 1 even start?

"We—your Mortal friends—would be more than happy to

Dhiammarz 9

assist you, my Lady, if help you need. It's a daunting task to be faced alone."

The Mage swung round with a gasp. Had the wretched man been reading her mind? "I need no help from

Mortals," she snarled. How dared he suggest that she was not capable of rebuilding her own home?

Vannor bowed low, but said nothing. Eilin let the silence stretch out between them until it became

a gaping chasm. The Mortal waited until the suspense stretched put to breaking point, but she

proudly refused to acknowledge him further.

Eventually Vannor spoke, his voice very gentle, just as though her previous angry words had never

been uttered. "Lady, there's food and fire and companionship on the other shore. Will you not

cross your bridge and join us?"

Eilin could not meet his eyes. It had been bad enough to hear the kindness in his voice; if she

saw the sympathy and concern that she knew would be written on his face, the brittle citadel of

pride she had constructed around herself would shatter into shards. She could not countenance the

idea of breaking down into tears in front of this wretched man.

"I need no charity from your kind," she snapped at Vannor, biting off each word with savage

emphasis. "A plague on your food and fires and company! You have no business here, and I want you

all gone by noon tomorrow or you must face the consequences." She turned, at last, to glare at

him. "This Vale is my place, Mortal. Mine1."

Vannor, clearly unimpressed by her threat, looked at her long and appraisingly. "As you wish," he

said at last. "No one would dispute your right to this place, Lady. But if we can ever assist you

. . ." He stopped himself, and shook his head. "No," he muttered softly, as if to himself. "You

wouldn't, would you? In your stupid, stiff-necked pride you could never bring yourself to ask for,

or accept, Mortal help—not supposing you were to perish here, of hunger and cold and loneliness."

At his words, her anger boiled over at last. Eilin flew at him like a harpy, shrieking curses at

the top of her voice. It was a relief to have a target for the rage that had been building within

her. Vannor faced her, un intimidated, with steady calmness and—yes, there it was, the pity that

she had so dreaded to see, clearly written in his face. It stopped her dead. Suddenly the Mage

realized what a spectacle she must be making of herself—a distraught, disheveled harridan,

pathetic and ridiculous in the tattered remnants of her pride.

10 Ma gg i e F u r e y

Her curses spluttered into silence, and she closed her mouth abruptly.

Vannor inclined his head respectfully. "Lady," he told her, "Aurian taught me everything I need to

know about both the stubborn Magefolk pride and the stormy Magefolk temper— but it didn't make me

love, or respect her, any less."

Unexpectedly, Eilin found her mouth twisting in a wry smile. "Your friendship with my daughter has

given you a rare insight into our character," she admitted.

Vannor grinned back at her. "Indeed," he agreed, "but Aurian taught me far more about the good

side of the Magefolk character than the bad. Courage, loyalty, a rare honesty ..."

His words were interrupted as the air above him was split asunder by the belling of hounds, the

clamor of horns, and the wild, triumphant hunting cries of the Phaerie, who came hurtling out of

the sky like thunderbolts, bearing with them the ghastly trophies of their hunt. The Forest Lord

had returned to the Valley.

Though Panic .and Sangra had been arguing with him for some time now, Yazour refused to be

browbeaten, intimidated, or persuaded into changing his mind. He was determined to head back to

the Southern Lands, in search of his friend and mentor Eliizar, and admit to the older man then he

had made a mistake. He should never have come north with the Magefolk—this was not his land, and

now there was nothing left for him here.

Following the disappearance of Aurian, Anvar, and his friends among the Horsefolk, Yazour was

finding himself very much adrift and alone in a land of strangers. Of the companions who had set

out with the Mages from the Khazalim city of Taibeth, only he remained. Harihn, the young

warrior's former prince, had betrayed the Mages twice and formed an unholy alliance with the

Archmage Miathan. As a consequence, he had been slain in the Tower of Incondor. Shia had followed

Aurian and Anvar through the rift in Time, to meet some unknown fate. The winged girl Raven was

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now Queen of the Skyfolk, and when Yazour had last seen her, she had been well on her way to

finding a new maturity, and beginning to atone for her former mistakes.

Poor Bohan, the gigantic eunuch who had been so devoted to Aurian, had perished at the Xandim

stronghold, and even Schiannath, Chiamh, and Iscalda, Yazour's newfound

Dhiammara

r 1

friends among the Horsefolk, had met with an uncertain fate when the Phaerie, freed by Aurian's

failure to master the Sword, had reclaimed their horses back from human form. In one lethal stroke

the Xandim had lost their leaders. Schiannath the Herdlord and the Windeye Chiamh had been saved

from the Phaerie but had followed Aurian in their equine form. Along with the remainder of the

Xandim, Iscalda— Schiannath's sister, who had befriended Yazour—had been transformed irrevocably

into her equine shape of a white mare and claimed by Hellorin, the Phaerie Lord.

Yazour had been forced to look on, helpless, as the humanity of his friends had been ripped away.

Aurian and Anvar had vanished, and the young warrior had been forced to remain behind, alone,

because he had not been quick enough to follow them through the rift in Time. And now he must live

with the guilt of his failure. Though his fellow-warriors Parric and Sangra were doing their best

to be kind to him and make him welcome in their midst, the Khazalim soldier knew himself for an

alien and an outsider. Without Aurian—without some point to his existence here—he could feel

neither at home nor at ease.

"Yazour, don't leave us. You're our friend—we need you here." Sangra returned to the attack.

"There's so much to do—so much to put right."

Yazour sighed wearily and shook his head. "I want to go back to the South, to my own people," he

insisted. "I can be of far more use to Eliizar and Nereni now that Aurian is gone and her quest

has failed. .. ."

"Failed! Don't you dare say that, you bastard!" Panic snarled. Yazour ducked reflexively as a fist

whistled past his face. The Cavalrymaster, beside himself with rage, pulled his arm back for

another try, but Sangra, just as swift, caught his wrist before the second blow had time to

descend. "Parric, no!" she cried. 'That's not going to help matters."

The Cavalrymaster subsided, but glowered at Yazour with an unwonted look that mingled coklness and

misery. "Don't you ever say she's failed," he muttered. "It isn't over yet." He jumped to his feet

and walked stiffly away.

Yazour realized, too late, that his careless words had wounded Parric deeply. He was^orry—he liked

and respected the little man. Not knowing how to take back his words without making matters worse,

he mumbled an awkward apology to Sangra and scanned the encampment, desperately seeking

12 Maggie farcy

a diversion that would take their talk in a less painful direction. His attention was drawn by the

sound of shouted imprecations, to the island across the lake. "Who is the woman yelling at Vannor

over there?" he asked.

"Why, that's Aurian's mother, the Lady EUin," Sangra told him. "She lives alone here in the Vale.

The poor soul—I don't blame her for sounding so angry. How can she bear it? Her daughter is gone,

her Valley burned, and her tower in ruins. She'll be lonely now for sure—in fact, depending on

what's happened to Miathan, she could be the last of her kind." The warrior shook her head. "The

death of the Magefolk—who would have thought that would happen in our lifetime?"

Poor woman! thought Yazour. The only one here of all her kind—just like me. He looked again at the

slender figure, his heart aching in sympathy. She seemed so isolated; so vulnerable. And she was

Aurian's mother. . . . An idea began to take shape in Yazour's mind, but before it could resolve

itself, the voice of the Forest Lord thundered down from far above:

"See your prey, my warriors. Take them now!"

"Take cover,".Vannor yelled. "The Phaerie are attacking]"

How dared they1. Eilin's anger, so recently directed at the hapless Mortals, now found its true

and fitting target. "No!" she cried. She ran back across the bridge toward the fires, Vannor a

stride behind her, even as the Phaerie came arcing down out of the sky. Eilin reached the great

campfire ahead of the Forest Lord. All around her people were drawing swords, shouting, running,

crazed~withpanic.

"Stay by the fires." The Mage augmented her voice by magic until it rang out clearly above the

noise. "Stay close to me—it's your only chance!" As the terrified Mortals began to collect around

the great bonfire, Eilin looked wildly around her. A staff—she needed her staff! But she had

relinquished it to D'arvan, long ago, and now it had gone with him to some unknown fate. All she

really needed was something through which to focus her power.... Through a gap in the gathering

crowd, she saw Hargorn's abandoned sword, still planted upright in the mud by the edge of the

lake. The Earth-Mage ran and snatched up the unclaimed blade. She poured her power into the sword

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