At first, it was all she could do to keep functioning amid the storm of Phaerie emotions that raged around her. Horror, pain, anxiety, grief; shocked disbelief that the human vermin could have turned on them with such devastating consequences - and, overriding all else, Tiolani’s terrible rage. In addition, she could feel the terror and agony of her equine companions, which came to her in primitive bursts of raw emotion that assaulted her senses like physical blows; all the worse because they had few words with which to express their feelings.
Never in her life had she been so glad to return to her cosy stable; to be fed and watered, to have the mud and the spatters of gore washed from her dappled hide, to have her aching limbs rubbed and her small hurts tended, to be groomed and cosseted and wrapped in her own warm woollen rug, and left in a bed of thick, soft, fragrant straw to rest. As the human grooms worked on her, she found herself puzzling, for the first time, over the chasm which existed between those who tended her and the ferals the Phaerie had pursued that night, who had fought back with such unexpected savagery.
No one would ever hunt these humans. Clean, hard-working, valued and cared for by their masters, they were an essential part of Phaerie society, keeping it running with their menial labour and leaving Hellorin’s folk free for other, more enjoyable pursuits. How great a difference lay between these mortal slaves and the quarry of the Wild Hunt, who had been viewed and treated as nothing more than animals. Yet they were exactly the same species. She was still trying to puzzle out the difference as she fell asleep. And surprisingly, sleep came very swiftly, as if her weary body and overburdened mind could scarcely wait to escape from the fears and memories and revelations of that night.
In the morning, of course, it was all still there. Corisand awakened to find that she was Windeye of the Xandim and, with no one to teach or guide or help her, she was going to have to make a start at sorting out the confused mass of memory, knowledge and emotion that churned in her mind. Somehow, she must learn to think clearly in words and images, to reason, conjecture and organise her thoughts. Somehow, she would have to find a way to shield herself from the mental emanations of others which assaulted her unceasingly. Somehow, she’d have to learn the extent of her new powers and abilities - for she understood in her deepest heart that these existed, though she could not say how she knew.
4
THE FIRST STEP
At first, Tiolani could barely grasp the fact that Hellorin’s mantle had landed on her shoulders. Though the Forest Lord’s life had been preserved by her swift actions, he had been hovering on the threshold of death when the Phaerie brought him home. Two cadres of skilled healers had been forced to work on him in tandem; one holding him to life while the others fought to repair the horrific damage that the arrows had wreaked deep within his body. Because any one of Hellorin’s injuries would have been enough to kill him, the healers could only work very slowly, and it took so much power to maintain his hold on life, and so much concentration to perform the difficult, delicate and extensive amounts of healing, that the process would be extremely protracted - at least so Tiolani had been told. And in the meantime, due to Arvain’s death, the reins of power had been thrust into her unready hands.
Tiolani’s grief at the loss of her brother was so acute that she simply wanted to crawl into bed, pull the bedclothes over her head and never get up again. What did she care for power? What did she care that the realm of the Phaerie needed a ruler? She didn’t give a damn for the Phaerie. Arvain was dead, her father could be dying, and nothing else mattered.
It took the Hunt to change her mind. Nothing could bring back her brother, but at least she could avenge his death, and she gained a little surcease at the thought of making the accursed feral humans of the forest suffer as he had suffered. Even on the first night following the ambush, with Hellorin hovering on the brink of death and Arvain not yet sent to his rest, she ordered the Wild Hunt out again, though she herself had kept to her chamber all day, seeing no one but Varna; she had no plans to leave it any time soon, not even to ride out in the cause of revenge. Unfortunately, she had forgotten one important detail. Though she had demanded to be left alone, Varna brought someone to see her: Darillan, Gwylan’s former apprentice, now promoted to Huntsman. Taking in his flustered expression, Tiolani realised that he looked about as ready for his new responsibilities as she was for hers, and that small insight of fellow feeling was enough to prevent her from sending him away.
Darillan bowed low. ‘Lady Tiolani, I beg pardon for intruding on your grief like this, but if the Hunt is to ride out tonight as you instructed, then we must have your help.’
‘Why me?’ Tiolani replied listlessly. ‘Whatever it is, get someone else to do it.’
‘But, Lady, you are the only one who can do it.’ Darillan looked agitated. ‘Without the flying magic the Hunt cannot ride out, and the spell can only be performed by one of the Forest Lord’s line.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment, Tiolani could think of nothing more intelligent to say. Embarrassment made her as flustered as the young Huntsman himself. How could she have forgotten such a detail? What a fool she must look. Then dismay overwhelmed her embarrassment. She had never attempted the flying magic before. There had been no reason. She had only accomplished her first Hunt the previous day. Whenever possible, Hellorin had performed the spell himself, and if he could not be present, Arvain had been there to take his place. And though her brother had explained to her how the magic was done, she’d never had the chance to try it for herself. Well, she would get her chance now, and she’d better do it right. If she failed, there was no one else who could work the magic, and if Hellorin did not recover, the Wild Hunt would be finished. For a panic-stricken moment she had thought of putting off the entire business until she felt better able to cope, but the craving for revenge was too strong. ‘Very well,’ she said to Darillan. ‘I’ll come at once.’
Then another idea occurred to her. If she had to face the Phaerie courtiers in any case, she might as well ride out with the Hunt, and wreak some vengeance on the humans in person. She called back the Huntsman, who was already on his way out of the door. ‘Wait, Darillan. I’ve decided to join the Hunt tonight after all. I’ll just need a few minutes to change clothes. Send a message to Aelwen immediately, and have her get Asharal ready. You can tell the others I’ll be with them shortly.’ With that, she turned to her lady-in-waiting, who had been hovering warily by the door. ‘Varna, tell the maid I’ll need my riding clothes immediately.’
When Tiolani emerged from the palace, she found that the number of hunters in the courtyard was seriously depleted. Some, it was true, had been killed or wounded the previous night, but it was patently clear that the heart had gone out of Hellorin’s Wild Hunt. Many had been deeply shaken by the ambush, and many more were downright afraid to enter the forest again. No one had ever expected the prey to fight back. Those who had joined the Hunt this evening consisted mainly of those who, like herself, had lost loved ones in the ambush, and were riding out for revenge. There was no pomp and splendour tonight; no gaiety or chatter or brightly coloured clothes, for all the Phaerie were in mourning. This sombre band of riders, all that remained of the Wild Hunt, were there for one reason only: to kill as many humans as they could find.