Artifacts Of Power - Dhiammara Part 6

Dulsina started up with an anxious cry. "What happened? Are you all right? Do you feel ill again?"

Vannor shook his head, mopping ineffectually at the soup stains on the quilt. "I'm all right love, don't fuss. I can't think what came over me-my attention just wandered for a minute. I must still be tired, I expect."

Smiling smugly, Eliseth withdrew from his mind and returned to her own body. Her triumph lent extra savor to her food. She had dealt successfully with Vannor-and now it was time to deal with Anvar. To a Mage, knowledge was power, and her appet.i.te had been whetted by the information she 90Maggie Furey had picked up from Vannor's mind about Aurian's adventures. She wanted to know more about the Southern Lands- and Anvar had actually been there. Still smiling, she went downstairs and selected a long, keen dagger from the guardroom armory. Then she returned to her room, filled the grail to the brim with water, and, carrying it carefully in both hands, she made her way up to the rooftop where Aurian's lover lay.

The air outside was thick and oppressive, almost humming with tension. Thick, heavy towers of black cloud had ma.s.sed across the city, and Eliseth could hear the low, menacing growl of distant thunder. She felt a shudder of ecstasy run through her. As the raw, wild power of the storm drew closer, so the strength of her magic would increase. Through the viscous, copper-tinged gloom she could make out the faint blue glimmer of her time spell across the roof and hurried toward it, walking carefully so as not to spill the water from the grail. Anvar lay facedown on the roof where she had left him, a long dark form whose ident.i.ty was indistinguishable beneath the crawling, flickering blue web of the spell. Eliseth set down the chalice with a decisive click on the roof's smooth paving, and laid down the dagger close to her hand. "At last," she breathed. "It will take more than Aurian to save you now." Then gathering her powers, she arrowed them toward him, and dissolved her spell.

The victim of a time spell experienced a few moments of disorientation as the binding magic was removed-it was an easy matter for Eliseth to remove the spell and to replace it with one of simple sleep, before Anvar had time to struggle or even realize what was happening to him. Once she had him helpless she began to tear into his mind, raping it of information, wrenching his thoughts apart without a care for the suffering she caused him and reveling in the soundless screams of his trapped and tortured spirit as his body convulsed in agony. Eliseth was enjoying herself. In hurting Anvar she was striking out at Aurian-and though she could have obtained the knowledge she needed far more easily had. she killed her victim and taken control as she had done with Bern, she wanted to impose her will upon him, and make him suffer.

The entire story of her enemy's long journey spun into Eliseth's mind too fast for her to follow, but that did not concern her. As long as she had the information in her memory, she could peruse the details later, at her leisure. When at last V h i 2 m m a r a.

9 1.

she was certain that she had taken all she wanted from An-var's mind she withdrew, picked up her dagger, and looked down upon the last spasms of his agonized writhing with icy scorn. She put a knee into his back, dragged his head up by the hair, and removed her spell. She felt his body tense as he regained consciousness. Down came her hand, and her sharp blade hissed across his throat, laying it open in a burst of , crimson gore. As Anvar's lifeblood pumped across her hands, Eliseth threw back her head and laughed triumphantly.

This time, Anvar went hurtling through Death's grey doorway so fast that he barely had time to notice the intricate carvings. Before he truly had time to take in what had happened to him he found himself, stunned, outraged, and aghast, in the silvery half-light of the world beyond the portal, with the path to eternity at his feet.

i "No!" Even as he howled his protest, the door slammed J: shut behind him with a low, concussive boom that carried ;*" dreadful overtones of finality. Spitting out curses, Anvar hurled himself again and again at the unyielding door-but to no avail. Suddenly, the memory returned to him of agony and j helplessness, with Eliseth's thoughts raking through his mind * like searing talons-and Eliseth's knife at his throat. Anvar :- stopped hammering at the door. His hands fell limply to his sides as cold dread congealed deep within him. With growing }. horror he realized that while last time he had entered this ;- place voluntarily and had been permitted to leave again, he was /; here for good this time. He thought of Aurian, saw a vivid im-t age of her strong-boned, serious face and flaming hair in his I mind's eye. A pang went through him like a dagger piercing I his heart at the thought of losing her. This can't be happen-1- ing! His thoughts churned aimlessly in panic. / can't be dead1. I Suddenly Anvar felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder. "Get away from me," he snarled, his voice cracking in fear. Even as he spun, a voice cried out: "Anvar? Lad-it is you!"

To his utter astonishment, Anvar found himself looking into the face of Forral.

"What happened?" the swordsman demanded. "How did you die? Where's Aurian?" In his anxiety for answers he reached out and grabbed Anvar by the shoulders, shaking him impatiently while the Mage tried in vain to settle the jumbled upheaval of his thoughts. "Forral-leave him be."

92Maggie F urey Anvar remembered that ominous, chilling voice all too well. He looked up and shuddered. Death seemed to think his hermit guise unnecessary for someone who had pa.s.sed through his realm before, and his dark, shrouded figure loomed over the two men at the gate. But the Specter's attention seemed all to be fixed on Forral. "This has gone far enough," he snapped. "Mortal, will you never learn? I had a certain respect for your courage and strength of will. While you interfered with no one but yourself, I was willing to permit you your folly, but twice now you have accosted the souls within my care. Last time, your interference robbed a man of his natural pa.s.sing and allowed him to be s.n.a.t.c.hed into an unnatural slavery."

Death's voice was stern and implacable. "Forral, I cannot- dare not-permit you to linger here any longer. I had never thought to see these times again, but there is a power in the mundane world that is misusing the Caldron of Rebirth, and it is no longer safe for you to remain in the vicinity of the Gates. You must come with me now-both of you-and enter the Well of Souls to be reborn before it is too late."

Forral's hands were still clamped around Anvar's shoulders like bands of iron, but the Mage paid them little heed. At the Specter's words, he finally understood what Eliseth was doing-and why. Even as he opened his mouth to warn the others, he felt a wrongness beginning-the first stirrings of an arcane, invisible force that reached through the closed door of Death like the turning of an unclean tide. The misty scene around him flickered and began to grow dim as he felt himself caught, as though in the grip of a giant hand, and pulled back toward the portal that separated the living from the dead.

"No!" Death roared. "I will not permit this!"

For an instant all was confusion. Anvar felt one of Forral's hands slip from his shoulder, though the swordsman's grip with the other hand tightened. The force from beyond the door continued to tug at the Mage, harder and harder, its pull becoming painful as the intensity increased. Then Anvar felt, for the first time, the numbing non-touch of Death as the Specter's hands clamped tightly around his arms. There came a cry from Forral-of horror and triumph mixed-and then only two figures stood where three had stood before.

On the roof of the Academy, the Weather-Mage finished applying water from the grail to the gaping wound in Anvar's Vhizmma.ra.93 throat, and watched with satisfaction as the blood stopped pumping from the severed arteries and the sundered flesh began to knit itself back together. Eliseth waited tensely. It seemed to be taking a long time to bring her victim back to life- far longer than it had taken for the restoration of Bern. She glowered down at the lifeless body, clenching her fists so tightly that her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms. If this didn't work .. .

Anvar convulsed once, arching his spine like a stranded fish as his chest heaved with a wheezing, gasping breath. Eliseth acted instantly, striking out at him with another time spell. She sat back, feeling immensely relieved. For a moment she thought of removing the spell again to test her control as she had done with Bern and Vannor-but then again, why take the risk? The grail had worked perfectly well with the first two victims, and it was far more powerful than any magic this thin-blooded half-breed might possess to resist it.

Besides, Eliseth was in a hurry. She had done what she'd set out to do-and the information she'd gleaned from Anvar's mind was even more useful than she had hoped. Until now, she had never thought beyond Nexis-but why limit her ambitions to the North? With Vannor in her power she had control here, and Anvar was in place, ready for Aurian's return. If she traveled south now and sought other races to control, she could increase her power a thousandfold before her enemies-either Aurian or Miathan, wherever he should be, could find her. Besides, she would be safely out of the way when she instructed Vannor to make an attack on the Phaerie. If they should strike back at the city-as well they might- she wanted to be nowhere in the vicinity. Furthermore, the Magewoman had discovered in Anvar's mind the details of an invincible stronghold from which she could eventually hold the reins of the world in safety and security. It was as well that there were no more dragons in the city of Dhiammara, for Eliseth intended to use the place herself.

In that instant, the Mage's smug thoughts were cut off by a searing crack of thunder. Beneath her feet, the foundations of the tower began to shake. Eliseth sensed that some alien, unrecognizable variety of magic had triggered the earthquake, but had no idea that, in using the grail's powers in the Academy, she had sprung a trap that had been laid for her long ago. As the tower rocked and vibrated, her mind went blank with 94Maggie Furey panic. The tower, protected from destruction by the residual magic from the many spells that had soaked into its structure over the centuries, was probably as safe a place as any. Eliseth could do nothing but stay where she was-and watch in horror as the city crumbled around her.

A piece of the bal.u.s.trade that bounded the edges of the tower roof cracked and broke loose, vanishing into the depths below. Eliseth crouched down low for stability, clinging tightly to the precious grail, and looked out through the gap at the collapse of the city.

From somewhere in the center of Nexis the Mage heard the tearing crack of stone as the Garrison plateau with its large walled complex of buildings fractured right across the middle. The high, protective walls that Miathan had built around the townlands broke apart and toppled in a hail of stones, and a surging wave of earth was shrugged loose from the southern slopes upstream from the city to fill the valley bottom with debris. A long fissure appeared in the riverbed below the Academy and the gathered waters went swirling and boiling down into the bowels of the earth in a burgeoning cloud of dust and steam.*

At last it was over. The tortured landscape ceased to quake, and the dust began to settle. The only sounds were the groans and screams of the injured and bereaved. Throughout the city dozens of fires had sprung up, spreading the destruction further. Eliseth shuddered, paying no heed to the suffering of the Mortals below. Her thoughts were all for herself She had no idea what, exactly, had happened-but she had a very bad feeling that it had been aimed at her, and that the missing Archmage was behind it, somehow. It was high time she got out of here.

Some three days later, Yanis was surprised to receive a message from Vannor asking for a swift ship to ferry some unknown person and a manservant to the Southern Kingdoms. He was very surprised that Zanna's father had time to concern himself with such trifles right now, for after the mysterious earthquake, the Lord of Nexis, only just recovering from his illness, had his work cut out to keep order and deal with the crisis. It made little difference to Yanis, however. Considering the amount of gold that Vannor was offering, the Night-runner was only too happy to oblige in person, though for Vh i a. m m a r a

95.

some reason the mysterious traveler, who spent the whole journey heavily hooded and cloaked, made him very uneasy. But by the time he had dropped off his pa.s.senger in a secluded cove on the southern coast, and made the return journey through seas that were still unstable and storm-tossed after the quake, all traces of his earlier curiosity had vanished from his mind-along with all memory of the unknown voyager.

Chapter 7.

ill Wind on the Plains tliseth arrived in the Southlands with litde more than Bern, the useless Sword of Flame that the Mortal carried slung on his back in an old cloak, and Anvar's stolen memories to guide her through these strange new lands. It was scarcely a triumphal arrival-considering that she planned to rule these Southern Kingdoms before much longer.

The Magewoman stood on the lonely, windswept beach, watching the ghostly outline of the grey Nightrunner ship disappear into the rainy darkness. She was mightily relieved to see the back of it. This had been her first sea voyage, and she hoped it would be her last-the seas had still been violently rough following the Nexian earthquake, and she had not known it was possible to be so wretchedly ill.

Eliseth shivered with something more than just the raw, damp cold. She had never known what it was to feel so vulnerable. She was unaccustomed to being without the privileges conferred upon her by tradition: the luxury and security of the Academy, and the protection and authority of her rank as Magewoman, one of the city's powerful elite. Now she must set out to sculpt her future from the raw materials to hand, and her feelings were an unsettling mix of trepidation and antic.i.p.ation as she set foot on the sh.o.r.es of an unknown future.

"Lady-please, what do we do now? I'm cold and I'm hungry, and this burden you've given me weighs so heavy...."

Eliseth rounded on the petulant Bern. "Stop whining, Mortal-ere I give you a reason for your spineless sniveling! Don't just stand there-go and find us somewhere to shelter until this accursed rain stops."

"Have pity, Lady. Where will I go? I can't see in the dark like you," Bern wailed.

The Magewoman gritted her teeth in exasperation. "In the name of all the G.o.ds-why did I ever drag you along?" she snapped. In search of a target for her temper she gathered her powers and lashed out with her will against the looming clouds above. Abruptly, the rain cut off in a sudden silence as though the world itself was startled by what she had done.

She turned back to the gaping Bern. "Come on, follow me. And take this, since you're only useful as a beast of burden." Eliseth threw him the bag containing the few belongings she'd salvaged from Nexis, with a flash of spiteful satisfaction to see him stagger beneath the additional burden. Then, without a backward glance, she strode off along the beach confidently expecting her Mortal slave to follow. She had no time to waste on him-there was too much to be done. The next months would be challenging times indeed, but Eliseth had no doubt that she would soon make this place her domain. After all, Aurian had done so-and wherever that red-haired b.i.t.c.h could succeed, the Weather-Mage expected to do a d.a.m.n sight better.

It was as well that Eliseth had her determination to sustain her. She spent the most uncomfortable night of her life shivering in the lee of a pile of fallen rock that had clearly, at one time, been attached to the overhanging cliff that provided scanty shelter from above. Though she had formed a magical shield around herself as a protection from the cold wind-not to mention any further rockfalls from above-she 98M a. g g i e F u r e y was unable to warm the raw night air, or soften the stony ground on which she lay. Between the strain of maintaining the shield and the fear of what might happen if she did not, she didn't close her eyes all night.

A grey dawn crept reluctantly forth, heralded by the sound of Bern's coughing. Eliseth scowled at the shivering, sunken-eyed Mortal. Since the deaths of his family, Bern had been neglecting himself, and the rough sea voyage and the night spent on the exposed, inhospitable beach had been too much for his feeble Mortal const.i.tution. Typical! Had she not known better, she could have sworn he did it deliberately, to plague her. Really, these accursed Mortals were no earthly use whatsoever-they were so frail that the slightest hardship finished them. She was reluctant to leave him, however. It was too convenient to have a servant-especially one whose mind she could control. Besides, she needed Bern to carry the Sword of Flame. The Artifact still reacted to her powers with dangerous violence, but in the hands of the magicless Mortal it remained dark and dead.

The Magewoman hesitated-then sighed, and shouldered her heavy bag herself, leaving Bern to bring the Sword. "Come on," she snapped. "The sooner we find something to eat, the sooner you'll get your strength back and be some use again."

Eliseth felt horribly exposed on the endless flat expanse of the coastal plains, like a fly crawling along the top of a vast table. Once she had left the coast there was nothing, as far as the eye could see, but league upon league of waving gra.s.s:, a pale, tawny gold beneath the steel-grey autumn sky. With nothing to obstruct it, the perpetual wind had an edge like a whetted knife. It came moaning across the plains like a soul in torment, hissing and whistling between the dry gra.s.s stems until the Magewoman wanted to scream.

On foot, it was a long and wearisome journey. Eliseth traveled mostly at night, scrying frequently in the grail to foresee and avoid any approaching Xandim patrols. The trek also proved to be a hungry one-for the town-bred Bern, inevitably, proved worse than useless as a hunter, and the Mage-woman was forced to obtain most of their food herself, using her magic to kill rabbits and the small deer that grazed the plain.

Eventually, after about eight days-the measureless monotony of the vast prairie made it all too easy to lose count- Vh 3.mma.ra.

Eliseth had found what she had been seeking: two young Xandim herders, a man and a woman, out on the plains alone, guarding a small cl.u.s.ter of s.h.a.ggy white cattle. In order to get close to her prey, the Mage used her air-twisting spell to blur and disguise the outlines of herself and Bern, so that from a distance they would appear as a pa.s.sing cloud shadow, a swirl of dust, or a flicker of sunlight on the windblown gra.s.s.

For a night and a day she followed the Xandim as they tracked the slow-moving bovines, noting the pattern of their activities. Every few hours they would take turnabout as rider and mount, one resuming human shape, and the other changing to equine form. When night fell once more they herded the cattle back to the deep gra.s.sy dell where they had pitched their camp-a st.u.r.dy hide tent and a fire in a shallow pit cut out of the turf to protect it from the worst of the omnipresent wind. The location was well chosen-there were few sheltered spots anywhere on the gra.s.slands, but here the soil lay thin across the bones of the earth, exposing, along one side of the hollow, a slanting wall of fractured stone that dropped sharply to the gra.s.sy bottom of the dell. A spring oozed out between two cracked rock faces, its waters trickling down to collect in a mossy, reedy pool at die foot of the steep and stony gradient.

During the day, as the cattle grazed, their herders, a dark-haired man and a girl with tanned skin and long brown braids, had hunted hare and wild birds with bow and sling whenever an opportunity arose. Now, as the red sun dipped behind the edge of the dell, the pair moved into what appeared to be a well-rehea.r.s.ed routine, with one skinning, drawing, and spitting the game while the other lit the fire and fetched water from the spring. When all was organized and the supper was roasting over die fire, the man stood up and smiled, holding out his hand to the woman. They vanished into the tent together, and were gone some time before the woman emerged once more, pulling on her shirt as she came. She turned the meat and went down to the pond to wash as her partner, stretching and whistling, crawled out of the tent and set a pot of water at the edge of the fire to boil.

When the Horsefolk had eaten and settled for the night they took turns at watch, one guarding the camp while the other slept. At last the Magewoman was ready to make her move. She waited an hour or two, shivering in the frosty 7 0 0Maggie Furey moonlight until she was sure that the Xandim were well settled. At last, when the time was right, she slipped into Bern's mind, controlling him as he crept up on the drowsy woman and cut her throat. The herder died without a sound, and her partner, still fast asleep within the tent, drew his last breath without even waking.

Smelling the blood, the cattle began to bawl uneasily and mill around the far side of the hollow. Eliseth, abandoning Bern's body, darted out from her hiding place behind the tent and the s.h.a.ggy white beasts exploded into terrified flight, stampeding away over the rim of the dell into the gra.s.slands beyond. As the Magewoman came round to the front of the tent she almost fell over Bern, who knelt, retching, by the fireplace. Ignoring him, she filled the grail from the herders' own waterbag and restored the first victim to life.

Eliseth took control of the Xandim's mind almost before the girl had a chance to regain consciousness. There she planted the instruction that the herders must obey the silver-haired Outland woman without question, and serve her in any way they could. Once the girl's mind had been enslaved, the Mage-woman left her and repeated the process on the male herder.

Much to Eliseth's amus.e.m.e.nt, the Xandim, Saldras and Teixeira, were most astonished to discover that a strange woman had suddenly appeared in their camp. They remembered nothing of what had happened to them-but now they were so gripped by the strange compulsion to devote themselves to the newcomer that they didn't even spare as much as a thought for their vanished cattle.

For the first time Eliseth discovered, as Aurian and Anvar had so long ago, that the Magefolk possessed an innate facility to understand new languages. Once she had questioned the herders about the habits, numbers, and whereabouts of the local Xandim, the herders were of no use to the Magewoman in their human form. Taking control of their minds, Eliseth forced them to change to equine shape and stay that way, hobbling them tightly so that they could not escape while she slept.

The Weather-Mage returned to the Xandim tent, now her own, in a glow of satisfaction. At last! No more trudging for mile after weary mile across these endless b.l.o.o.d.y plains! Now she could continue her journey quickly, for she had decided that the Horsefolk as a race would be of little use in her plans Onizmmara.101 of conquest-she could come back and deal with them later, at her leisure. No, the secret of power in the Southern Kingdoms was control of the skies-and, among the sc.r.a.ps of knowledge she had gleaned from Anvar *s mind, she had found the names of Winged Folk who would be only too glad to help her oust the rightful Queen. Now that she had the Xandim to transport her, Eliseth intended to head for Aerillia with all speed.

In the meantime, however, there was one small detail to take care of. The Magewoman had not forgotten her plan to force Vannor to mount an attack on the Phaerie. Eliseth shared the remains of the herders' supper with a ravenous and grateful Bern, then dismissed him, with a blanket, to sleep outside the tent. Even as he drowsed in the almost-forgotten warmth of blanket and fire, she slid into his mind and obliterated his memories of the murder and resurrection of the Xandim. Not before time, too. Already, the baker had been starting to wonder if she had not dealt with him in some similar fashion.

Once the Mortal had settled, Eliseth took a candle and filled the grail with water. Looking into the dark and shifting depths of the chalice, she bent her will upon Nexis, and sought the unsuspecting mind of Vannor, High Lord of the City.

Vannor was trying hard to keep his temper, but that fat fool Pendral just got right under his skin and stuck there. If the idiot's brain was as big as his mouth, the exasperated High Lord thought, then I wouldn't be having all this trouble. He set down his goblet so hard that the wine splashed out in a streak of crimson over the polished surface of the library table.

"For the last time, man, what the thundering blazes do you expect me to do about the b.l.o.o.d.y Phaerie? Poor old Par-ric's near demented-how can you expect the troopers to beat off an airborne attack? The enemy can shield against our arrows with their magic, and wherever we station our soldiers in the city, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds just come down somewhere elsel"

Pendral's piggy little eyes narrowed into slits. "But I do expect you to do something about the problem, Vannor. You are High Lord of Nexis-a position, I might remind you, that you took upon yourself. The citizens have every reason to look to you for help-and they're getting d.a.m.ned tired of waiting for 102Ma. gg i e F u r e y an answer from you and that drunken tosspot of a Garrison Commander."

Vannor leapt to his feet, upsetting his goblet. He leaned across the table, glowering at Pendral. "Given your own collection of vices, you've got a b.l.o.o.d.y nerve to complain about Panic," he growled.

Pendral's face turned the color of the spilled wine. "Vicious lies?" he spluttered. "I challenge you to prove your baseless accusation, or .. ."

"Oh, shove it, you debauched little pervert," Vannor retorted, "and shove your sham concerned-citizen charade right after it. You couldn't care less about the poor folk of Nexis. What's eating you is the fact that these Phaerie raids are robbing your goods, shaving your profits, and ruining your custom."

Pendral also leapt to his feet. "Well so what?" he blazed. "It's true! And it's affecting everyone, not just me." He drew himself upright, sticking his ma.s.sive paunch out in front of him like an indignant pigeon. "I'm not just here for myself, you know," he went on pompously. "I represent the entire Merchants' Guild-and we've had enough of your spineless refusal to deal with this situation. If you won't, maybe we should find ourselves a High Lord who will... ."

"All right! AU right!" Vannor roared. "Enough! Very well- I'll declare war on the Phaerie. We'll start conscripting extra troopers first thing tomorrow. Now get out of my house!"

Pendral gaped at him. By the G.o.ds, Vannor thought-it was almost worth it just to take the wind out of that b.a.s.t.a.r.d's sails.

"I'll go and report to the Guild at once!" Pendral cried. "We must issue a proclamation."

Really, that was Vannor's responsibility, but if it got this wretch out of his hair, he was willing to let the matter slide. It was only when Pendral had gone that he suddenly realized, with a chill of horror, what a terrible thing he had done. But before the regrets had time to take root, they were whisked from his mind, vanishing without a trace.

"Make war on h.e.l.lorin? You must have taken leave of your senses:" Parric's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. Having heard the announcement of the crier from the Merchants' Guild, he'd come storming up to Vannor's house in a blazing Vhia.mma.rz 1 03.

rage, but the tidings, finally confirmed by the High Lord himself, were far too serious a matter for mere temper.

Vannor's eyes narrowed. "I've made my decision, Panic," he said stonily. "There's no altering it. As High Lord, It's my responsibility to put a stop to the Phaerie depredations-"

"Yes, but you won't be getting carved to pieces by those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. My troopers may be sworn to defend Nexis, but there must be some other way? By Chathak's bones, Vannor-I can see why you didn't dare break this news to me yourself. You never did have a head for strategy. An outright attack on h.e.l.lorin is a hopeless cause, doomed to failure from the outset. You'll be wasting all those lives for nothing?"

Vannor's face was expressionless. All the bluff warmth and zest that had formed the core of his nature had fled. What can have changed him so? The Cavalrymaster thought. That poison didn't take his life, but it robbed us of the true Vannor, just as though it had killed him outright.

"Are you going to cany out my orders?" Vannor demanded coldly. "Or aren't you man enough for the job? In that case, I suggest you crawl back down the neck of a bottle, and I'll find someone else to command the Garrison."

I'll kiU him', was Parric's first thought-but fortunately for Vannor, his anger was so intense that it turned to ice, instead of fire. "If that's the way you want it," he said stiffly, "you can have my resignation right now-but I warn you, you're making a big mistake." Walking up to the former merchant, he looked him straight in the eye. "For once, I'm actually glad that Aurian is gone. To see you acting like this would break her heart."

Eliseth watched from behind Vannor's eyes as the Cavalry-master walked out of the room without looking back. If it breaks Aurian's heart that's an additional bonus, she thought.

Panic was busy clearing his belongings out of the Commander's quarters that had once belonged to Forral, when Sangra walked in, looking pale and strained. "It's no good," she burst out. "There's no easy way to tell you this. I've just been talking to Vannor. He asked me to take over command of the Garrison-and I told him I would."

The Cavalrymaster's stomach clenched with a sick feeling of dread and a p.r.i.c.kling chill crawled between his shoulder 1 04Maggie Furey blades. Someone walked over my &&ve, his mother used to say-only this time, Panic knew, with a sinking certainty, that the grave would be Sangra's, not his own.

"Panic?" Sangra was looking at him with a puzzled frown. "In the name of all the G.o.ds, say something."

Taking a deep breath, Panic tried to haul himself back to some sense of normality. "Sangra, you can't do this," he said urgently. "Whatever possessed you? You know as well as I do that the whole idea is insane. Why, you may as well tell the troopers to fall on their swords right here in Nexis, and save themselves the trek."

Sangra went, without asking, to Parric's table, and poured two cups of rough wine from the pitcher that stood there. She took a sip and he saw her raise a disapproving eyebrow. "It's been a long time since you touched this filthy stuff."

Parric glared at her. "I'm retired," he snapped. "I can take up getting drunk again if I want to. Now you're the one who should be staying sober."

Sangra flushed. "If you start that business again you're a bigger b.l.o.o.d.y fool than I thought."

"You're calling me a fool?" The cup of wine smashed against the wall as Parric's temper finally snapped. "At least I've got more sense than to walk open-eyed into a fight against a foe who has not only magic but the power of flight!" He grabbed Sangra by the shoulders, disregarding her startled curse as her own cup fell to the floor. "Don't do it, love. Think again. We'll both resign-what can Vannor do? We can always go south, like Aurian did. We could hire out our swords again...."

From the bleak look that came into Sangra's eyes, Parric knew he had already lost. Shaking her head, she covered Parric's hands with her own. "And can the entire Garrison resign?" she asked him softly. "You know they can't-they're sworn to serve. And Vannor has already ordered additional conscription. Think of those troops: raw, green, inexperienced- somebody's got to take care of them. Now that Hargorn has retired, you and I have the most experience in the Garrison by a long chalk-and if you won't go, then 1 certainly must. You've got to understand, Panic-if I left those lads and la.s.ses to their fate I could never face myself in the mirror again." She sighed bitterly. "I've got to go-even if it is a fool's errand. All I can do is try to save as many of them as possible."

Parric sighed. Maybe it was my grave, after all, he thought.

Vhizmmars.

1 OS.

"All right," he said resignedly. "If I can't persuade you to come to your senses, then I suppose I'll just have to join you in your insanity. At least I can make sure you don't do anything too daft." Shaking his head, he reached for his sword belt and began to buckle it on. "I don't know which of us is more insane."

Dhiammara 1 0 7.

Chapter 8 The Wild Hunt.

/Vurian stood shivering in the deserted courtyard, alone-save for the ghosts. In the pallid moonlight, the buildings of the Academy took on the ivory gleam of old bone. The void black apertures of its doors and windows held a travesty of remembered life, like the vacant features of a skull that contained a half-familiar echo of loved features now decayed to dust; the abandoned receptacle for a consciousness that had long since fled.

A thin, cold wind sniveled and whined among the abandoned buildings, stirring shadowy movements in dark corners and tainting the air with whispered ghostly voices. Miathan and Eliseth, the arch-plotters; Davorshan and the Fire-Mage Bragar, whose ambitions had exceeded their abilities; the Healer Meiriel, lost in her insanity, who had fallen to Aurian's sword in a faraway land ... All were here tonight, thronging the shadows, awaiting their revenge upon the one Mage who had dared oppose them ...

"b.a.l.l.s!" Aurian snorted. "Ghosts, indeedV'Tak- ing a firm hold on her runaway imagination, she put her shoulder to the door of the Mages' Tower and thrust her way inside.

Once around the first curve, the pitch-black stairwell presented a challenge even to her Mage's sight. Raising her hand, Aurian called a ball of sizzling blue Magelight to hover above her head. The shallow marble steps spiraled upward before her, slick with a film of icy condensation. Shadows from the sphere of cold fire leapt and lurched across the weather-stained walls and web-hung ceiling, causing flickers of movement at the edges of her vision that froze her in her tracks and sent her whirling, hand on the Staff of Earth, to face a nonexistent threat.