I could have done more . . .
I should have done more . . .
Had I been a better fighter or a better Wizard . . .
Surely there was some way I could have helped them . . .
Feeling her attention slacken, Melik turned away from the water and began some hunting on his own account, nosing curiously among the ferns behind her, while the Wizard remained lost in her dark labyrinth of pain; unable to escape, berating herself for being weak and self-pitying, which only made matters worse.
She never heard the footsteps approaching behind her; knew nothing until a soft nose nudged her shoulder and a voice called her name in mindspeech. She leapt up in panic, suddenly realising that she had carelessly let Melik wander, and her view now consisted of nothing but a tangle of lush green undergrowth and a large, iridescent beetle trundling its way through the miniature jungle. Disorientated, she stumbled, only to fetch up against the soft, warm hide of a horse, which saved her from a fall.
‘Dailika?’ Her heart leapt.
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s me, Corisand.’
That sudden leap into hope, only to have her expectations dashed so quickly, was the final blow that cracked the core of emotion she’d been holding in so tightly. Iriana wept at last, sobbing into the velvet comfort of the Xandim’s neck.
‘You’re mistaken, you know.’ Corisand’s gentle words came directly into her mind.
The Wizard took a deep breath, then another, and another, until she managed to get her tears under control. ‘Mistaken? What do you mean?’
‘I am the Windeye. I can see the burden of guilt you carry, dark and heavy, pressing down on you with a terrible weight and preventing you from moving through your grief. And you are mistaken, Iriana. Forgive me for prying into your thoughts, but I can also see what troubles you. There was nothing you could have done to help Esmon. On the contrary, he was the leader, and he was also on watch: it was his duty to keep the camp safe, and he failed you.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘And you could have done nothing to save your owl companion,’ Corisand went on relentlessly. ‘Your foe had such a power for evil in him - what could you have done? He gave you no chance whatsoever to intervene, so again - not your fault.’
‘I could have—’
‘Yes? What, exactly, could you have done?’
‘If only I had awakened earlier—’
‘If only your foe had never been loosed against you by Tiolani, or he had never been born, or you had never been born, or Seyka. Iriana, you cannot alter fate. If you start on “if only”, you’ll end up blaming yourself for everything that has gone wrong since the dawn of time. In trying to save Seyka, you might well have been killed instead, and then Avithan would most certainly have died.’
‘But I didn’t save Avithan,’ Iriana said miserably. ‘I only took him out of time, but Taine and I messed up the spell between us, and now Athina must take him back with her, to her home beyond our world. There is little chance that he will ever be able to return.’
‘Had you not taken him out of time, he would most certainly be dead by now, in which case he would definitely be unable to return. You have given him a chance, Iriana, and under the circumstances, a fighting chance is all that any of us can ask for.’
‘But I sacrificed poor Dailika in the process.’
‘You had to think quickly, and use the only weapon you had to hand. Otherwise you and Avithan would both have been killed. As Windeye of the Xandim, I can sense horses from far off, and I do not believe your mare is dead. I am aware of an equine presence moving away, heading towards Tyrineld; still half-mad with terror, but beginning to calm. Instinct is driving her, and she is making her way home.’
‘But there are so many dangers on the way. She might be attacked by wild animals or stolen—’
‘Iriana,’ Corisand said sternly, ‘Dailika has as good a chance as the rest of us to make it home safely. You can ask no more.’ She nuzzled into the Wizard’s shoulder. ‘My friend, all the guilt you are feeling comes down to one root cause: that you survived, intact, while your companions did not. And I believe we already know the reason for that. Athina has told us that we two are pivotal to the future of this world, and—’
‘And Tiolani.’
‘I do not count Tiolani,’ Corisand said severely. ‘She is far too undependable. When the Cailleach told me of her vision, she said that we would hold the fate of the world in our hands, to doom or to save. It may be that Hellorin’s daughter will turn out to be our greatest adversary.’
Iriana, much to her own surprise, smiled. ‘I notice that you put the two of us on the side of Good and Right.’
‘But naturally.’ Though the Windeye could not smile, her flash of humour touched Iriana’s thoughts, and in that instant they both knew that they were friends. The burden of guilt eased slightly from the Wizard’s mind, and she felt a little stronger. They talked on for a while, each telling the other the full tale of how and why they had come to this present moment. Iriana was particularly fascinated by Corisand’s account of her journeys to the Elsewhere, and the history of the Fialan, which the Windeye must capture in order to regain her magic and free her people.
‘Avithan wanted to create a powerful artefact that would defend us from the evil that both Cyran and Athina have foreseen,’ the Wizard mused. ‘Crystals are related to Earth magic, and one that could store the magic of many Wizards for one wielder to use might be the saving of us.’
The idea hit them both at the same time.
‘Iriana, would you come—’
‘Corisand, if Athina can send me through with you—’
‘Yes!’ they chorused in unison.
‘Let’s go and talk to Athina,’ said Corisand. Iriana called Melik back to her shoulder, and they all moved off together. All her life, the Wizard had longed for adventure. Now, it seemed she might be headed for another world to seek the magic Stone on which the futures of two races could depend.
34
MATTERS OF TRUST
The Cailleach paused in the open doorway and looked into the kitchen. What a difference a few simple comforts had made to this strange collection of visitors, who were beginning to blossom under the influence of warm baths, clean garments and a good, hot meal. Now they were all gathered in the cosy room on the ground floor of her tower: Taine and Aelwen sat at the table, still holding hands, while Corisand was wedged into the narrow space between the table and the door.
There was no sign of Dael.
Iriana, sitting at the other side of the table feeding scraps of bacon to the cat on her lap, still looked exhausted, her face pale and taut with worry, black shadows under her eyes. Still, that was only to be expected. Her losses had been the greatest, and she had just been forced to make a terrible decision, the repercussions of which would affect many lives - particularly that of the one she loved.
There was no time for grieving, however. The Cailleach knew that she must leave very soon now, and before she did she must set a number of events in motion. Hiding her worries behind a smile, she called out a greeting to her guests and walked into the kitchen.
‘No, stay where you are.’ She waved them back to their seats as they all scrambled to their feet. The scepticism she had sensed in the forest seemed to have vanished since she had brought them here to her tower in the blink of an eye. This newfound respect, she noted wryly, did not prevent them all from starting to talk at once, however.