It seemed forever, yet somehow was only an instant, before they found themselves drifting earthwards once again. In the distance, another range of mountains descended like a barrier to the coast, and both of them knew, without being told, that there lay their destination. Aurora set them gently down, both of them breathless and bright-eyed with the wonder of it all. ‘Farewell,’ she said. ‘May good fortune attend you. Remember, the futures of many races, not just your own, hang on what you will do next.’
With that she vanished. The sun lifted its head over the land, turning the mountains to rose, the sea to burnished copper and the sky to gold.
‘Well, thank you for that, Aurora,’ Iriana grumbled. ‘You’ve made me feel so much better.’
Corisand smiled. ‘We’re an unlikely pair to be holding the fates of entire races in our hands.’
‘It’s like the stories we used to read when we were children - the unlikely heroine saves the world,’ Iriana replied. ‘There are times when I can scarcely believe we’re doing this - I keep thinking that I’ll wake up in my bed in Tyrineld, and everything will have been a dream.’ She sighed. ‘I only wish a lot of what happened had been a dream. Losing Esmon and Avithan, not to mention my poor, dear animals. All my life I read those old tales, looking through the eyes of one creature or another, and I longed for all those amazing things to happen to me. But those stories didn’t say enough about the dark side of adventures: the conflict, privation and loss. Or maybe they did, and I was so desperate for something exciting to happen in my life that I just wasn’t paying enough attention.’
‘Well, I don’t know about any old stories,’ Corisand said stoutly. ‘In my childhood I was only a foal among other foals. When the dark things happen, I sometimes wish I had never become the Windeye, with the sheer crushing frustration and responsibility of it all. But then I think about all the wonders I have seen, such as our journey with Aurora; the incredible things I can do, and the friends I’ve made.’ She squeezed Iriana’s hand. ‘Then I know I could never go back to the old way - and do you know what? Neither could you.’
The Wizard’s shoulders straightened. ‘In Tyrineld I was caged and thwarted; smothered by the loving care of well-meaning but misguided folk. And you’re right. You’re absolutely right. No matter what the cost, I couldn’t go back to that either.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So - we’d better go forward.’
She looked at the rugged, rocky coastline stretching far ahead, with the wide river mouths, the tumbled boulders big as houses, the uprooted trees piled haphazardly along the waterline like a giant’s game of jack-straws, the glaciers that dropped into the ocean as precipitous cliffs of solid ice, all the coves and firths that would double the distance they had to travel. ‘My, but this is going to be interesting.’
Corisand shrugged. ‘Well, we’re not going to get there just by looking at it.’ She strode forward. ‘I had better cut myself a staff like yours and—’
‘Wait, wait.’ Iriana tugged at her arm. ‘Maybe there’s a better way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You remember how you made that bridge of air, back at the lake?’ Iriana spoke quickly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Well, what about building another one that will take us right up the coast, over all these obstacles?’
Corisand thought for a moment. ‘There would probably have to be a series of smaller bridges - I don’t think my power will stretch all that way in one go - but it should be possible. There’s only one thing that worries me: what happens if Hellorin attacks again while we’re on the bridge? We’d be fearfully exposed and vulnerable up there. And if he forces me to fight, or even just defend myself, it could shatter my concentration. The bridge will disintegrate and we’ll both fall.’
‘Plague on it,’ Iriana said. ‘It was such a good idea. But maybe . . . Wait a minute, let me think.’ She turned and stood looking out to sea, while Corisand fidgeted impatiently, anxious to be gone.
Then: ‘I know!’ the Wizard shouted. She turned back, grinning with excitement and talking very fast. ‘Why does it have to be a bridge at all? You could make a boat, couldn’t you? I read in my studies at the Academy that the Old Magic cannot cross water, so we’d even be safe from Hellorin ...’ Her words ran down into silence as she saw the Windeye’s face. ‘What’s wrong, Corisand? Why are you looking at me as if I’ve gone mad?’
‘What’s a boat?’
Iriana blinked. ‘What do you mean, what’s a boat? They float, on the water. They can be big or small and people travel on them. You must know—’
‘I grew up as a horse, in a forest, in the mountains far inland,’ the Windeye pointed out. ‘How the bloody blazes am I supposed to know what a boat is?’
The Wizard burst out laughing. ‘I never thought of that,’ she confessed. ‘It already feels as if I’ve known you forever. It seems incredible that our backgrounds should be so different - and yet before we came here to the Elsewhere, I only knew you in the form of a horse.’
‘Trust me - my background is different from anyone you’ll ever meet.’ Corisand joined in the laughter. ‘Now, suppose you explain to me exactly what this boat thing is?’
It took them a while to work it out between them. Iriana, concentrating hard, put the image of a little single-masted sailing boat into the Windeye’s mind, and Corisand worked and manipulated the fresh sea breeze to duplicate the design. When it was done, it looked beautiful, glistening like spun silver and riding lightly on the water like a swan.
Nevertheless . . . ‘It’s just as well the thing is made from air and magic, and not real wood,’ the Wizard said, surveying it critically, ‘or it would never float.’
‘So long as my magic holds it together, it should be all right.’ Corisand sounded doubtful. ‘Maybe we’d better try to keep close to the shore, just in case.’
‘Good plan. Well, shall we?’ Iriana bowed and gestured to the Windeye. ‘After you.’
‘No, after you.’
‘Let’s go together.’
36
ON A KNIFE EDGE
From the air, in the strong noon sunlight, the graceful, soaring towers of Eliorand glittered like a cresting wave that poured down the face of the steep hillside. Notwithstanding the beauty, Aelwen viewed the sight with mixed feelings. Three nights before, when she and Kelon had made their desperate bid to escape, she had never expected to see the city again. On the one hand, it lifted her heart to return to her birthplace, her home and her beloved horses. On the other, she was sick with trepidation. Having finally made the difficult decision to leave, it felt like a mistake to be returning. Everything was different now. Her entire life had been a lie.
She had lain sleepless at Taine’s side throughout the previous night. It saddened her that Kelon, who had been her friend for so many years, had parted from her on such bad terms, but that choice had been his to make. Worse was the sick feeling inside her, because now that she knew the Xandim were not mere beasts after all, it cast her own life in a very different light. All the while she had been thinking of herself as their caretaker and nurturer, she had been nothing but a gaoler.
It shook her life right down to the foundations.
The shining city below concealed so many shadows: rivalry, envy, lust and betrayal. Murder. Aelwen had sense enough to know that not all the evil would have vanished with Ferimon’s death. How many of his supporters remained down there? How would they react to the news that he was dead? And the Forest Lord still had his realm’s loyalty. Now that she herself was returning in a traitor’s role, the Horsemistress knew that she would have enemies on every side. Many years ago, Hellorin had put a price on Taine’s head, and there were plenty of folk in the city with long memories. Would Tiolani be able to protect him, and was she strong enough to return and take back her rule? More to the point, could she be trusted?