“Anvar!” Aurian cried, and ran forward, almost weeping with relief. She wasted no time in wondering why Eliseth had chosen to leave him here—she was just so glad to see him again, and anxious to make sure he was all right. It was but the work of a moment to remove the spell. She hovered over him anxiously as his blue eyes opened. In a single instant, his face became alight with joy at the sight of her—and then creased with puzzlement as he lifted up one hand and looked at it as though he could not believe his eyes.
Aurian halted in the act of reaching out to him, for there was something in his expression that stopped her—something unplaceable, but dreadfully wrong.—The Mage realized, belatedly, that this could be a trap, and stepped back, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grasp on the Staff of Earth. “Anvar?” she asked tentatively.
The figure on the bed sat up, and ran a hand distractedly through his hair in a gesture that Aurian recognized. “No, love,” he said softly. “It’s me—Forral.”
10
The Call
It never occurred to Aurian to doubt. The face and body of the man on the bed belonged to Anvar, but his gestures, the way he held his body, the animation of his features—everything brought memories of Forral flooding back to the Mage. Though the figure had spoken with Anvar’s voice, the inflexions of speech, the intonation, the choice of words—they could only have come from the long-dead swordsman.
Aurian’s breath stuck in her throat. She couldn’t speak—the words refused to come. Forral. Impossible. And where was Anvar? What had happened to the mind, the spirit, the soul who once had occupied his form?
Only when she felt the firm pressure of the door against her shoulder blades did the Mage realize that she had been backing away. The touch of solid wood—something ordinary and real—pulled her back to herself, out of the numb miasma of shock.
“Aurian, don’t you know me? I ...” Forral sat up; made as if to rise from the bed.
It was more than Aurian could face; too much for her to assimilate all at once. Was she joyous? Aghast? She hardly knew. Suddenly her hand, groping behind her, found the latch of the door. A whirl, a slam-—and she was gone, bolting recklessly down the tower steps as though a horde of demons pursued her, her hands clenched into knots of bone around the Staff of Earth and her eyes blinded by tears.
Forral swore, and leapt up to follow Aurian, but the balance of his body was all wrong, the legs longer than he was accustomed to and the weight and muscle differently distributed. His feet tangled under him and he fell heavily, bruising knees and elbows, and only just prevented his face from smashing into the floor. Half-dazed, the swordsman pulled himself up to his knees, a vivid image of Aurian’s horrified face was seared on his mind’s eye. Had she not called him some name, not his own? But that memory was already lost in confusion. What has happened to me? he thought. How have I managed to return to the realms of the living? Overriding the joy that had exploded within him at the sight of his lost love, with a sinking sensation in his heart that something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.
Though Forral wanted badly to go after the Mage, he stayed where he was for the moment, trying to put everything that had happened into perspective. When Aurian had gone she had taken her Magelight with her, plunging the room into darkness that was barely alleviated by the gleam of sickly moonlight through the casement. There was just enough light to let him see the candle in a tarnished holder on the night table beside the bed, but it took him some time to find flint and striker as he rummaged through unfamiliar leather clothing that seemed oddly put together. He lit the candle. Once more, he held his hand out in front of him in the flickering amber light, really looking at it this time.
Forral frowned. What was this? Lightly tanned skin and long, tapering fingers.—A dusting of pale golden hair on the back. Callused fingertips, but none of the heavy scarring from sword nicks that had striped his own hands and forearms. Forral’s skin crawled. The hand was not his own. Frantically he groped at his face. No beard. He clenched his jaw and shook his head as if to clear away a veil of cobwebs. “Well what the bloody blazes did you expect?” he asked himself gruffly. Anger was better than fear. “You’ve been dead and buried for years, you poor fool—your body was worm fodder long ago!” A sick shudder went through him at the thought. His mind was working sluggishly, as though it had not quite accommodated itself, as yet, to its new vessel.—Then it struck him like a thunderbolt. So whose body have I stolen?—Aurian had fallen twice during her headlong descent of the tower, but the curve of the spiral staircase had slowed her momentum, and she had not fallen far. The second time she went sprawling, Shia came charging up the stairs just as the Mage was picking herself up. Pushing the cat aside, she rushed down the remainder of the staircase, aware that Shia was following but unable, as yet, to respond to the frantic queries of her friend. Not now. Not yet. First, she must get out. Bruised and shaken, Aurian staggered out of the tower and doubled over, vomiting, in the courtyard. She stood there gasping, taking deep breaths of cold night air and trying to steady herself with the mundane. Now she had put some distance between herself and that creature upstairs, who had worn Anvar’s body and spoken with Forral’s voice, she could start to think sensibly again.
“What happened?” Suddenly Shia was there, beside her. “Is Anvar up there? I saw from in your mind that he was—then he was not. Is he there? Can we help him?”
Taking deep, gasping breaths, the Mage leaned against the cold, white stone of the curving tower wall, and took a firm grip on the whirling confusion in her mind. “No,” she said flatly, not knowing what else to say. She wouldn’t cry.—She must not—or the Gods only knew when she would ever stop.
Now that Aurian was calmer, she could feel her friend beginning to pick out the memories of the ordeal from her mind. “Are you certain it was Forral?”
Shia asked her. “Remember the desert,” the cat continued. “Eliseth has used such deceits as these before. What you thought you saw—surely this must be impossible? How can a living spirit be ousted by one of the dead?”
For an instant Aurian’s heart leapt at the possibility—but her mind knew better. She was no longer the inexperienced young girl, confused and grieving, who had been duped so easily in the desert. She knew exactly what she had heard and seen. Also, she could feel the intense distress behind Shia’s thoughts, and realized that the cat was closing off her own mind to the possibility of Anvar’s loss.
“No, I’m not deceived,” she told her friend. “Anvar is really gone, and it seems that Forral has taken his place within his body.”
Aurian smashed her fist into the wall, unable to give vent to her inner turmoil in any other way. I can’t believe this, she thought. It’s just too cruel. All that time spent mourning Forral—I wanted him so much. I still wish he could come back, even though it would tear my heart in two—but as himself, not like this. I had just found peace and happiness with Anvar—must I now start mourning him? Go through it all again?
And what of Forral, who had come back to her in a deadly exchange that had taken one love for the other? He had been her first love—she still loved him.—He was the father of her child, but ... I fled from him, Aurian thought, as though he were a monster. And if there should be some way to get Anvar back, then I’ll lose Forral all over again. Even as she put the dreadful truth into words, she felt a savage anger stirring deep inside. How could this have happened? How had the swordsman managed to steal Anvar’s body? And why not displace someone—anyone—else? The more Aurian thought about it, the more she became convinced that it could be no accident. It must be the swordsman’s revenge, because she had turned to another man after his death. How could he?—she thought. I loved Forral. Throughout all my childhood, he was the one man I could trust. How could he do this to me?