He shook his head. ‘I got the impression that she was fleeing for her life. Avithan had been hurt or captured, I think, because she was alone, blind, without even her animals to help her.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘My poor Iriana. The last words we exchanged in Nexis were filled with rancour and bitterness, and then for this to happen on top of...’
‘On top of what?’ Cyran asked sharply.
Challan took a deep breath, and with a visible effort brought himself back under control. ‘Cyran, I know this is not the time to ask, but have you seen my daughter Chiannala? We had a terrible quarrel the night Iriana came, and she ran away. She stole our horse and I think she might have tried to head for Tyrineld - she seems to have inherited my powers in full, and is desperate to train at the Academy and become a fully fledged Wizard. I told her it was impossible, and that was when she—’
‘Your daughter?’ Cyran turned shocked eyes in his direction. ‘You had a daughter with that human—’ He broke off in disgust. Yet that look of distress, of misery, of desperation on Challan’s face so exactly matched his own state of mind that he could not fail to understand. No matter what her breeding had been, the Wizard had lost a child, too.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘My sorrow, Challan, but she never came to the Academy. Our recent intake was small. Only one came from outside Tyrineld - a girl called Brynne whose family have a farm out Dunmore way. But she and her father spoke of finding a strange, lone girl on the road who claimed to be an orphan heading for Tyrineld in hope of attending the Academy. Being decent folk, they took her with them, but I’m afraid there was a terrible accident on the way, and the girl slipped and fell over the cliffs. The fisherfolk began a search of the area at once, but she was never found.’
Challan groaned, and put his head in his hands.
“But wait.’ Cyran put a hand on his arm. ‘It may be too soon to despair. The image of your daughter I see in your mind does not match the one that Brynne and her father gave me. It’s not even close. Also, you said that your daughter had strong Wizardly powers, yet we have felt neither her death nor that of another girl. We still have a mystery on our hands, but it is not yet time to mourn, for either of us. We know that our children are still alive, for we have not felt them passing. At least we have that. But whatever has befallen them, it cannot be good.’
He leapt to his feet, trembling with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides as he stared helplessly towards the north. ‘The Phaerie,’ he growled. ‘Those treacherous monsters. How dare they? They will rue the day they attacked my son.’
Challan also got up, and stood beside him. ‘I am sorry I could not reach you sooner. Horses are hoarded like diamonds in Nexis, and this poor lame, broken-winded old creature was all that I could find after Chiannala stole mine.’
The sun had risen fully now, and had vanished just as quickly into a long bank of cloud that lay above the horizon. A cold wind snaked and sneered across the exposed flanks of the moors. The two Wizards and the Warrior escort stood in silence, united by anxiety and sorrow.
Then it happened. They were struck by the wrenching pain, the unnerving sense of void and absence that marked the passing of a Wizard from the world. ‘Iriana,’ Challan wailed. ‘My little Iriana. No, it cannot be true. She can’t have gone.’
Cyran staggered as though he himself had received a mortal wound. ‘I sent her,’ he whispered. ‘Her death is on my hands.’
In the next instant he crumpled to the ground with an anguished wail as the dreadful pang came again. ‘Avithan,’ he cried. ‘No, please - not my son!’ For a long moment the Wizards were transfixed in horror, then Challan began to weep. Cyran got to his feet, his face bone-white, his eyes burning with a cold, fell light as he stared into the north. ‘All my life I have striven for peace and conciliation with the Phaerie,’ he snarled, ‘but here it ends. Now I will unleash red war upon them. I will not rest until the last of their infection has been wiped from the face of this world.’
37
THE OLD ONE
The boat sailed beautifully, flying along before the wind with the Wizard at the helm. They were making good progress. Already the Windeye could see the tiny island in the distance, with its tall tower of rock that resembled the ravaged stump of an ancient tree. She could make out the fir trees and green bushes that clung miraculously to its near-vertical sides, and the dark triangular opening of the cave mouth at its base.
Corisand’s concentration was elsewhere. Before they had left the shore, she had woven a shadow-cloak to hide the little craft and its passengers, and was carefully maintaining it as they surged towards the north. Iriana had been enthralled by this new aspect of her magic, and clearly was still musing on it during the voyage. ‘I wonder if I could make something like your cloak,’ she said. ‘Not in our own world, obviously. But if you’re right, and I can see in this realm because I’m using Othersight, I wonder if I could link it in some way with my Air magic—’
‘It wouldn’t work.’ Corisand’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended. ‘You might be able to see in Othersight, but the manipulation of the air is Windeye magic. You can do a great deal with air, I know, but you can’t hold it in your hands.’
‘I suppose not.’ The Wizard shrugged. ‘Pity - I would have liked a shadow-cloak of my own, and it might have come in useful too.’
Haven’t you got enough already? Corisand bit back the words before they could come out of her mouth. It shocked her to realise that she was a little jealous of Iriana. The Wizard had such a powerful and unique talent, and had been intensively trained; she’d practised her magic all her life, instead of suddenly discovering it out of the blue - and even then not having it available most of the time. ‘You know, I envy you, going to the Academy; coming from an entire race of Wizards so you were learning your craft from the very beginning, and you never were alone.’ It seemed best to get her thoughts out into the open, before the notion started to rankle and sour their friendship.
Iriana thought for a moment. ‘You’re right, I have been lucky, and I’m especially blessed to have a mixture of powers. There’s always a balance, though. It hasn’t been easy for you being alone and captive, and it wasn’t easy for me being blind. I managed very well with my animals to help me, but until I came here I never really knew what I was missing.’
‘You know, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Things are never as straightforward as they appear, are they?’
While they were talking, they had let their vigilance drop - just a little, but enough.
They didn’t notice that the wind was rising until suddenly Corisand found herself unbalanced as the vessel rocked and pitched on a steepening sea, and a massive wave slapped over the bows, soaking her with flying spray. With a curse, she scrambled back to where Iriana was steering the little craft. The Wizard’s face was pale and taut, her mouth set in a grim line of concentration. In mindspeech, however, she was swearing with inventiveness and fluency.
‘Iriana? What’s happening? What’s wrong?’
‘Some bloody thing is attacking us,’ Iriana growled through clenched teeth. ‘I can feel their magic, trying to stir up a storm.’