Forral swore and tried to rise.
“You stay exactly where you are.” Iscalda pressed him down again with one hand on his chest, and Forral was dismayed to find that she could do it without effort. “There’s nothing you or any of us can do until Linnet finds them.”
“Chiamh! Chiamh—come back! Wake up, damn you!” Aurian clutched at the Windeye’s sleeve and shook him as hard as she could, without any response whatsoever. She swore. What in perdition had happened to him? If she couldn’t wake him soon, it was likely that they both would die.
Aurian tried another tack. “Basileus? What’s happening? Can’t you stop this?” There was no answer. Not a flicker of response from either Moldan or Windeye.
The Mage had returned to her body on the pinnacle, to find that the Chamber of Winds had turned into a very perilous place. The whole place was shaking and swaying, and every now and again her heart would almost stop as another sharp cracking sound accompanied an additional section of fractured stone. The whole slender spire of rock might well collapse at any moment—and the spider’s-web bridge had been completely torn away. Chiamh was the only way to get down—and she could not bring him out of his trance.
Aurian pressed herself flat, trying desperately but without success to find some kind of purchase on the smooth stone floor. “Oh blast you, Chiamh, wake up,” she muttered. “Wake up, please.”
“What’s wrong? What’s ha—oh, goddess! I didn’t think this would happen!” The Windeye tried to sit up, and managed it on the third attempt. By clinging to one another, he and the Mage managed to stay more or less upright, though actually standing up was out of the question. His mental call to the Moldan was so loud that Aurian could pick it up quite clearly. “Basileus? Are you all right?”
“I cannot stop the shaking, Windeye. These are Ghabal’s death throes—they must run their course.”
The Windeye cursed softly. “All right, Aurian,” he said. “I’m going to have to change to my horse-form in this position and then get up. As soon as I’m on my feet, get up on my back as quickly as possible, and we’ll get off this thing.—You have got your amulet, haven’t you?” As she nodded, he gave her a smile that was pure relief. “Well, that’s a blessing. Don’t forget, it takes both of us to make me fly. Once I’ve changed, don’t waste any time.” Before Aurian had time to answer, his outline was beginning to shimmer, and in the next moment, the stocky, black-maned bay horse lay on the stone beside her.
It was a nightmare trying to get Chiamh to his feet on that unsteady surface. At last, after several bruising falls that brought Aurian’s heart into her mouth with the thought of broken legs, he managed to get himself more or less vertical, standing straddle-legged like a newborn colt. Then it happened. Just as Aurian was braced ready to hoist herself onto back, the stone underfoot gave a particularly violent lurch. The Mage’s legs went out from underneath her and she fell flat on her face. Chiamh stumbled, slid—and was gone over the edge.
“Chiamh!” Aurian shrieked. She hid her face in her hands, unable to look down into the chasm. The dire peril of her own position was lost in overwhelming grief for her friend.
A shrill, demanding whinny broke into the dark well of her sorrow. Astounded, the Mage looked up—and knew that she had gone completely mad. There before her, hovering in midair with no help at all, was Chiamh.
Another lurch of the pinnacle brought Aurian out of her shock with a jolt. She could work out the whys and wherefores later—when she had her feet back on solid ground. The Windeye maneuvered delicately into the Chamber of Winds and landed lightly, his feet barely touching the vibrating floor. Somehow, Aurian managed to scramble onto his back, then they were away. The Mage had no need of her talisman—the Windeye was managing the entire business himself. As they left the crumbling pinnacle, Chiamh gave an exultant whinny, and carried a very puzzled Mage away to safety down the valley.
It seemed an eternity before Forral saw a black speck in the sky. Then he recognized Aurian on Chiamh’s back. “She’s here, Wolf,” he cried. “Your mother’s coming!”
The Mage was looking very pale as she dismounted and ran to the side of Forral and her son. She took in the swordsman’s bandages at a glance. “I thought you’d carry your injuries over to this world,” she said. “I should have warned you. Still, I’m sure we can fix you up.” She hugged them both, first Forral then Wolf.
“Are you all right?” Forral took her hand. “You look bloody awful, love.”
Aurian grimaced. “It was bloody awful. I hope I never have to go through anything like that again.”
“I doubt you will,” the swordsman reassured her. “After all, Miathan is dead, and ...”
“Gods, I don’t mean that,” Aurian cried. “I mean being stuck up on top of that accursed spire in the middle of an earthquake!” She got to her feet and turned to the Windeye, who had changed back to his human shape and was grinning all over his face. “I’m extremely glad you did what you did,” she said, “but how the bloody blue blazes did you do it? I thought the Xandim couldn’t fly without the aid of the Old Magic.”
Chiamh shrugged modestly. “No more they can—the normal Xandim. But my powers as Windeye stem from the Old Magic. I thought as much when you demonstrated your own Othersight, the first time you used the talisman. Ever since then I’ve wondered whether I could fly on my own—but I never had the nerve to try until today.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t the best way to find out, believe me.—Now I understand exactly what it is you hate about high places, Aurian.”
Eventually the tremors died away completely, much to everyone’s relief, although the Windeye spoke to Basileus, who recommended that they wait a while before returning to the cavern, just to be on the safe side. The Mage spent the intervening time healing Forral’s hurts and looking out anxiously for Linnet, with any news of Shia and Khanu. To her dismay, the winged girl returned toward noon, having failed completely to find the cats. It was close to sunset before Shia and Khanu came slinking back—from an entirely unexpected direction. “Where in the name of perdition have you two been?” the Mage demanded.
“We were on Steelclaw,” Shia said wearily. “The Dragon’s Tail was fractured in the earthquake. We’ve had to come round miles the long way—practically all the way down that mountain and back up this one. And I should warn you folk—this is no longer a safe place to stay. We crept past the Fastness unseen, but the Xandim were mustering outside. I think they plan to come up here and see what has become of their accursed Blind God.”
Aurian looked at Chiamh. He nodded. “Let’s get back to the cave at once,” he said, “and prepare our belongings. If the Xandim are coming here, then we don’t want to waste any time getting away.”
Though the companions were too weary to travel all night, they managed to get deep into the mountains to the south of the Wyndveil, where the Xandim could not follow. Chiamh and Aurian had said a sad farewell to Basileus, who made them promise to return as soon as ever they could. “He seems very confident that we will return,” Aurian said to the Windeye afterward. “It’s good to know that someone has so much faith in us.”
“I have faith in us too,” Chiamh replied. “We’ll accomplish what we set out to do, you’ll see. And we’ll come home to tell our grandchildren about it.”
“Grandchildren? Please, Chiamh—one trial at a time!”
At least it had sent them on their way laughing.
When the night was growing old they stopped to rest at last, though it was a cold and comfortless camp without a fire. Though the Skyfolk rarely ventured this far east, they didn’t think it wise to risk drawing attention to themselves. Aurian, who had offered to take the first watch, was surprised to see Chiamh get up after a little while. “Can’t you sleep?” she whispered.