“Is there any sign of Aurian?”
“No—but I shall find her, never fear. She escaped by river, that I do know. I found traces of her magic by the weir. I could not locate her in Norberth, so I’ve extended the search to the ocean. It would seem that Vannor has gone with her, unless you found any trace of him in the city.”
Eliseth shook her head. “Miathan,” she ventured, “should you not be concentrating on Nexis just now? This is a critical time for us, with Vannor gone and Forral dead.”
“No!” Miathan’s eyes blazed with a mad light. “I must find her, Eliseth! You know that she will not let Forral’s death go unavenged. Besides, there is still the matter of that accursed child. It must not be allowed to survive!”
“Don’t fret, Archmage, I’m sure you’ll find her,” Eliseth soothed. “In the meantime, I can take care of things for you here. I must have help, though. Elewin says that most of the servants and guards are either dead or fleeing.”
“See to it, then.” Miathan, already turning back to his crystal, waved an absent gesture of dismissal.
“One more thing.” Eliseth hesitated, “Must you send Davorshan away just now? The Magefolk are spread very thin and I could really use his help.”
The Archmage glanced up at her. “Yes, as a matter of fact I must. He must go to the Valley, Eliseth, for Eilin is the only remaining threat to us here. I intend to be rid of the Lady of the Lake—for good,”
Maya was limping as she climbed the wooded slope that bordered the rim of the moonlit Valley. She tugged at the reins of D’arvan’s horse, which she was leading. It had been unbelievably bad luck, her own horse going lame that morning, after they had made such good time on their journey north! It was one more thing to cope with on top of the trouble she’d been having with D’arvan for the past three days. Stopping for breath, she glanced worriedly back at the Mage, who sat limply on the horse, his delicately molded face expressionless, his eyes blank.
Maya muttered a barrack-room curse. She wished he would snap out of it! He had almost scared her to death that night when he’d been seized by a strange, sudden fit. One minute they had been sitting quietly by their small campfire—the next, he had gone absolutely rigid, his face contorted, his eyes rolling back in his head until only the whites were showing. He had screamed out something about Finbarr being dead, and monsters, and Miathan, before collapsing. Since then, he had been as impassive as stone. He could ride if she put him on the horse, eat if she put food into his mouth, and sleep, or so it seemed, if she closed his eyes and laid him down. But for all the response she’d been able to get from him, Maya might as well be lugging a corpse around. The thought sent a shiver through the warrior. She was truly fond of the young Mage, and had been trying hard not to dwell on the possibility that his condition might be permanent. Maya bit her lip. I hope I find Aurian’s mother soon, she thought. Surely she will be able to help D’arvan?
Catching her breath, Maya trudged doggedly on toward the head of the slope. Whatever the trouble was, she hoped that the Lady Eilin would be able to sort it out, and let her get back to the city. She had a feeling that something was badly wrong, and her instincts, developed over a dozen years of soldiering, rarely let her down. She knew from Aurian that if a Mage died, all other Magefolk felt the death. Had D’arvan been reacting to Finbarr’s passing? And what about the Archmage, and the monsters? If there was trouble in Nexis, then Maya knew that her place was with her troops, and she was seething with frustration. Close as she and D’arvan had grown over the last months, she was ashamed to find herself wishing that she had never volunteered for this task of playing nursemaid.
Suddenly the Valley stretched below her, vast in the moonlight. Maya gasped. It was immense! What sort of destructive force could have caused his huge crater to be formed? She led the horse along the edge, seeking a safe way to descend the steep black walls. Then, to her horror, a blood-chilling sound shrilled through the forest behind her. The eerie song of many wolves—hunting! The horse threw up its head and reared, spilling D’arvan to the ground. Maya swore and hung on grimly to the reins, fighting the terrified beast, “No you don’t,” she muttered. “I’m not losing you, too!”
Somehow she got the reins wrapped round a sturdy tree limb, and tied them firmly. The horse plunged and screamed at the end of its tether as she ran back to where D’arvan lay. There was no sign of any injury—he seemed as unaffected as ever by the fall. She hauled his limp form over to the tree, propped him against the trunk, and straightened, panting. The howls grew nearer, turning shrill with excitement. They were on her trail! Great Chathak, they were all around her!
Maya considered letting the horse go, hoping it would lure them away from her, but decided to save that as a last resort. She still had to get D’Arvan across the Valley, and while he was like this, she would never manage it on her own. Stooping, she scrabbled together a small pile of twigs and dead leaves for tinder, and struck a spark, feeding her fire with the larger dead boughs that lay beneath the tree. Wolves feared fire. Drawing her sword, she thrust it point down in the earth in front of her, ready to her hand. Unslinging her bow from her shoulder, Maya nocked an arrow and stood at bay beside D’arvan, her back against the tree.
Like a shadowy tide, the wolves surged through the trees, yelping triumphantly. Then they saw the fire, The gray wave broke, hesitated. One wolf stepped out into the firelight—the leader—a huge, shaggy silver beast whose eyes flared green-gold in the glow of the flames. Maya pulled back the bowstring to its full tension, aimed, and—
“Wait!”
“What the—” Maya jumped—the arrow went wide. Bloody D’arvan! Why had he chosen that split second to wake up? Feverishly she groped in her quiver for another shaft.
“Maya, wait!” D’arvan’s voice was urgent now. “It’s all right. I can talk to him. He won’t hurt us.”
Maya set the arrow to her string—then hesitated, staring at the wolf in utter disbelief. It sat on its haunches, its mouth gaping in a wide grin, its tongue lolling from the side of its mouth—for all the world like the friendly hound that cadged scraps at the door of the Garrison kitchen, The rest of the pack sat in similar postures, or lay, relaxed, on the ground. Maya did not move. “D’arvan,” she said quietly, through gritted teeth, “would you mind telling me what the blazes is going on?”
The young Mage struggled to sit up, “They guard the Valley,” he said. “Eilin sent them to watch after—after what happened the other night.”
“What did happen the other night, D’arvan?”
D’arvan grimaced with pain, “Finbarr , , ,” He shook his head, his eyes veiled and haunted. He was having to answer by the sound oNwoves that first sounded ringingly on rock, then softer on the loam of the forest floor. Maya tightened her bowstring, and the wolves leapt to their feet.
A white horse sprang forth between the trees, bearing the cloaked figure of a wild-haired woman. The staff in her hand blazed with unearthly green light. The tip of Maya’s arrow burst into incandescent flame, and the warrior dropped it hastily, cursing.
“Who are you?” The voice was tense.
Maya took a deep breath, and forced herself to stay very still. “Maya, Lieutenant from the Nexis Garrison, and friend to the Lady Aurian. I bear a message from her to her mother, the Lady Eilin.” Slowly, she reached inside her tunic for the tightly rolled scroll and bowed as she held it out to the Lady.
One of the wolves padded forward and took the scroll in its mouth. It walked softly across to Eilin, and delivered its burden into her hand. By the light of her staff, Eilin examined it, and nodded. “That is her seal,” she said softly. Breaking the seal, she unrolled the sheet, quickly scanning its contents.
“Are you D’arvan?” The Lady turned to the young Mage, who scrambled to his feet and bowed.