“Stop that, you fool,” she muttered to herself through clenched teeth. “Not now. Not yet.”
Anvar looked up, concern on his face. “Lady, are you all right?”
“Shut up,” Aurian said tightly, “Shut up and row.”
It was some twelve miles to the port of Norbetth at the river’s mouth, and they concentrated on covering the distance as quickly as possible. They passed mills and villages, meadows and woods, aided by the swift current that was swollen by winter’s melting snow. Aurian’s muscles ached, her hands were blistered, and sweat stung her eyes. Once, Sara moaned and began to stir as Aurian’s spell weakened. The Mage cursed. That should never have happened! What was wrong with her magic? Laying her pole down in the bottom of the boat, she squatted beside the girl. “Sleep,” she commanded in a ringing voice, laying her hand on Sara’s forehead. Sara relaxed once more, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and even, and Aurian sighed with relief. When she took her hand away, the girl’s forehead was dark with blood. Anvar gasped,
“Don’t worry, it’s only mine,” Aurian said, looking ruefully at her raw and bleeding palms. She picked up the pole again, and went grimly back to work.
Time passed. Aurian could feel nothing now, through the haze of pain and exhatfsrion that enveloped her. Surely they must be nearing their destination? This black, bitter night seemed to have gone on forever. Suddenly, her long pole found no bottom, and she flailed wildly, overbalanced by the force of her thrust. As she fell, one hand hit hard wood and she clutched at it with all her strength, losing her pole as she struck the icy water. It was deep here—too deep—and the force of the current plucked and buffeted at her numbing body as she clung, one-handed, to the stern of the boat. Already she could feel her grasp beginning to weaken, her fingers starting to slip on the wet wood ...
In that moment, a curious peace came over Aurian—a strange, relaxed clarity of thought. All she had to do was let go, and she would be safe, out of reach of Miathan, who had betrayed her so bitterly, away from all this grief and strife. And Forral, dearest Forral, would be waiting . , .
“Hold on, Lady, I’m coming!” Anvar’s voice was like a slap in the face. Strong fingers grasped her wrist, then her arm. Strong hands were hauling her back aboard the rocking boat. Aurian tried to protest, but she was too weak to fight. She slithered down in a shivering, sodden heap on the bottom boards.
“Lady, the weir!” Anvar’s voice was shrill with panic above the river’s roar. Aurian wiped water from her eyes. White foam streaked past on the dark water as the frail craft began to rock wildly, picking up speed, Anvar was struggling with the oars, blinded by flying spray, and even as she looked the left one slipped from his grasp, “whirled greedily away by the rushing waters. Immediately the boat swung round, spinning violently and listing dangerously to one side, out of control. Aurian smiled. Forral, she thought, yearning. Only a moment more . . . Then, out of nowhere, she seemed to hear the swordsman’s voice. “You’ll want to follow me. Don’t.” She looked at Anvar. He had just saved her life. No matter how deep her own despair, what right had she to take him with her?
Cursing bitterly, Aurian grabbed her staff. “Get out of the way,” she yelled. She barged past Anvar into the bows, over the top of Sara, struggling to keep a grip on both her staff and the lurching boat. A glimmer of white stretched across the river ahead of her, desperately close. The roar grew to a booming thunder. Aurian placed her staff crosswise in her lap, across the bows of the boat, gripping it tightly in both hands, her knuckles clenched white around the polished wood as she concentrated with all her might. The calm sound of her chanting cut across the thunder of the weir. The staff began to glow, shimmering with a blue-white light that spread, like tiny fingers of lightning, to encompass the entire boat as it reached the edge of the weir and began to tip . . .
Aurian heard Anvar’s gasp of fear—and then, as she made one last, wrenching effort, the boat straightened itself, floating serenely above the churning maelstrom, supported upon a surface of pure light. Gently they were borne forward, over the danger, then just as gently the little craft came to rest in a stretch of quiet water in the shallows beyond the force of the weir.
Aurian blinked, and collapsed panting across her staff, letting the darkness swallow her as the light of her magic was extinguished. She had bitten her lip, and her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of her own blood. Dimly, she felt Anvar pull her into his arms. Gently he pulled her soaked, tangled hair back from her face, and wiped the trickle of blood from her chin. “Aurian? Lady?” His voice was anxious. With an effort she opened her eyes.
“Are you all right?” Anvar said.
“Tired.” That one word cost her an enormous effort. “Get us there, Anvar.” Her voice seemed to be coming from far away. Had he heard her? But Anvar nodded. He settled her as best he could in the cramped space of the 6ow^} pillowing her head on his wet cloak, and turned to pick up the single remaining oar. Gratefully, Aurian closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, buildings lined the river-banks. They passed dwellings, warehouses, and mills and then, founding a curve, they swept beneath the great bridge that marked the boundary of the port of Norberth, A mighty arch of white stone, it sprang across the river that by now had grown broad and sluggish. Rippled reflections from the lights of the town covered the underside of the arch with an ever-changing network of dappled silver, and the river chuckled hollowly beneath the echoing stonework. Once past the bridge, they passed quickly through the town itself and swept out into the pool of the port. The masts a«f figging of sailing vessels webbed the sky, and Aurian wondered which of these ships would be the one to take her south. Anvar paddled a zigzag course toward a rotting and abandoned wharf on the south side of the harbor, grabbing at the slimy pilings to pull the boat underneath the little pier, where its shadows would hide them.
Aurian dragged herself wearily upright and rummaged in one of the bundles that lay in the bottom of the boat, finding a little silver flask and a hastily wrapped package of meat, bread, and cheese that was beginning to disintegrate from the soaking it had taken at the weir. She took a deep swig of Vannor’s fierce liquor, feeling its heat course through her stiff, chilled body. She handed the flask to Anvar, who took it gratefully. In her Mage’s night vision he looked gray and haggard, his eyes dark-circled with weariness, his blond hair dark and straggling from the river’s spray. Aurian divided the sodden food between them and they ate in silence, both of them too tired to speak. The Mage felt better for eating, feeling the food restoring, temporarily she knew, a measure of the energy she had lost in using her power to save them from the weir.
The weir. Ah, she’d come so close then—so close to escaping all this. Suddenly Aurian was overwhelmed by her grief, by all her burdens, by the peril and the near impossibility of the task she had set herself. She turned to Anvar, consumed with rage at his interference—and hit him, as hard as she could, across the face. “That’s for saving my life!” she snapped. She saw surprise and hurt orchis face, then his mouth tightened grimly as his hand lashed out to hit her back. “And that’s for saving mine!” he retorted. The sound of the slap echoed sharply across the water, and Aurian rocked backward, one hand pressed to her stinging cheek, her eyes wide with shock.
Anvar looked away, shamefaced. “Lady, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Slowly, Aurian shook her head. How could she fault his response, which mirrored her own despair so exactly? For the first time she realized that she was not alone—that he shared her predicament, and her suffering. She held out her hand to him—a gesture between equals—between friends. “I’m sorry too, Anvar,” she said softly. “I had no right—it’s just that I don’t know how I’ll ever find the strength to go on with this.”