From her nest of cloaks, the Mage looked up to see Anvar grinning like a lunatic for the sheer joy of her safe return. Though as yet she lacked the strength to reach up and touch him, her heart went out to him.
“The skill was yours,” he told her, “and I love you, too.” He clasped her hand tightly. “But are you—will you be all right now?”
Briefly, Aurian’s gaze became unfocused as she scanned inwardly with her powers; then she looked up and nodded, with a weary little smile. “All mended. I’m just sore—and so very, very weary. I must sleep for a while, to regain my strength and let the Healing settle, and then”—her grip on Anvar’s hand grew fierce—“then we go after that bitch Meiriel—and my poor son.”
Anvar frowned. “I can scarcely believe it was Meiriel. Are you sure, my love? Parric was convinced she was dead…”
“I wish to all the gods she was,” Aurian snarled. “But that mistake will be rectified. Is there any news?” she demanded. “Has anything been done?”
Anvar squeezed her hand in comfort and shook his head. “But we’ll—”
“You live!” Shia’s voice echoed joyously in the Mage’s mind as two great cats, their coats flattened and streaked with rain, came hurtling into the hall. Shia nuzzled her with care, long black whiskers splashing icy drops onto the Mage’s face as she purred her happiness.
Aurian, despite her worries, somehow managed to summon a smile for the cat. “I live,” she agreed. “Though the gods only know how. But”—her mental voice was shadowed with fear—“what happened to you, Shia? What news of my son?”
The great cat dropped her head. “We failed,” she confessed miserably. “Our foe threw up a barrier of magic through which we could not pass, and we lost her trail. The Skyfolk, too, seemed equally at a loss. I think the magic veiled her from their sight. Then we sensed that your life was in danger. Even from such a distance, we could feel your mind slipping away…” For an instant, Shia’s mental voice trembled. “Khanu and I returned while the wolves began to quarter the mountain, to see if they could track Wolfs abductor.” She looked away from the Mage. “Aurian—I believe our enemy had assistance. We could have been mistaken, but Khanu and I were convinced that we picked up a faint trace of strange cats—our own folk. I am ashamed…”
“Hush,” a voice interrupted. Looking around, Aurian saw the Xandim Windeye. “Do not blame yourself,” he told Shia, while including the Mages in his mental range. “Things are not all bad. No matter how she tried to hide herself, we do know which way the madwoman went. She may have been able to veil herself from normal vision, but with my Other-sight I pursued her on the winds—I was forced to return to help Aurian when I sensed that her life was threatened. But when last I saw the witch, she had made no attempt to harm the child…”
His voice was soothing, reassuring. Much too reassuring, given the circumstances. Aurian’s scalp prickled with suspicion. “And the bad news?” she demanded. “Come on, Chiamh—what is it that you aren’t telling us?”
Chiamh sighed. “The madwoman took the babe up onto the high Wyndveil slopes and headed toward the Dragon’s Tail ridge. Shia was right—two strange cats were nearby, pacing her like shadows. She has taken your son to the dreaded Steelclaw Peak. Even if they trace her, the wolves will be unable to follow. None but the Black Ghosts may walk the slopes of Steelclaw—and live.”
The stricken silence of the Mages was broken by Shia’s growl. “None but the ghosts, you say? But Chiamh, I am one of your Black Ghosts! Never fear, Aurian, Khanu and I will go to Steelclaw. I have unfinished business there, especially if Gristheena and her people are aiding your foe. Be assured that I will bring Wolf back.”
Meiriel scrambled across the exposed Field of Stones toward the broken ledges of the Dragon’s Tail ridge, alternately blessing her Mages’ sight, which allowed her to pass safely through the darkness, and cursing the wind that wrapped clinging tendrils of hair around her face and drove the rain stinging into her eyes to obscure the very night-vision that she needed so badly.
Despite the storm, despite the hardships of the climb, Meiriel’s heart burned with a savage joy. At last, she had struck down her enemy, the slayer of her beloved soulmate! Her magical shield had foiled her pursuers, and perhaps—Meiriel thrust down the nagging hint of doubt at the back of her mind—it had also shielded her from feeling the pang of Aurian’s death, which she had been expecting every moment since she’d fled. Yet surely her thrust had been fatal—and now she had Aurian’s child, that accursed, unnatural monster, to dispose of at her leisure. In the distance, Meiriel heard wolves howling, and dismissed the chilling sound with a shrug. Instead she looked down, her sharp eyes seeking the hidden way that led down from the plateau, to the shattered ridge. As soon as she reached Steelclaw, and was certain that she had shaken off pursuit, the child would be at her mercy…
“Twisted serpent of a Wizard—, think not”
“Who’s there?” Meiriel whirled, her voice shrill with panic. Though softly spoken, the words had been clearly audible above the whine of the storm.
“You are mistaken, Mad One. Your treacherous attack was not as accurate as it seemed. Aurian will live—even now she is being healed—and if you have not lost the last shreds of wisdom, you will keep her child alive as hostage—or as bait.”
“Who are you?” Meiriel shrieked. Sobbing with terror, her joy extinguished, the Magewoman half scrambled, half fell down the sloping edge of the plateau and crawled onto the broken ridge that led to Steelclaw. Once she had left the Wyndveil behind, the voice tormented her no more.
Crossing the Dragon’s Tail was a nightmare. Meiriel was forced to creep across inch by painful inch on hands and knees, her palms and shins lacerated by the razor edges of broken rock and leaving smears of blood behind them to be washed away by the merciless downpour. The storm shrieked its derision at her, buffeting her frozen body on the exposed ridge and clutching at her with powerful fingers, threatening at every moment to pluck her from her precarious perch and hurl her into the dark depths that plunged down on either side. Because of the energy and concentration needed, she had been forced to abandon her magical shield—but that was of no consequence now.
Meiriel gritted her teeth and pressed doggedly onward, though her mind still reeled from the mysterious message that she had received upon the Wyndveil Peak. Whence had come that voice? Was it some kind of trick, and if so, from whom? What did it mean? Could it really be true, that Aurian was still alive? Meiriel cried aloud in pain and rage, and spat upon the rain-slick stones of the ridge. Supposing it was true? Did she dare take the risk? The voice had been right about one thing. If Aurian was truly still alive, Meiriel would need that babe—one way or the other.
By the time she had reached the far side of the ridge, the Magewoman had managed to gather her wits once more. Even if Aurian should come here, Meiriel still had a trick or two to fall back on, not the least of which was her newfound friendship with the savage denizens of this shattered peak. When that fool Parric had left for the south with his makeshift army, Meiriel had headed for the sanctuary of Steelclaw, to be well out of the way of the Xandim and their keen-eyed scouts as they crossed the Wyndveil.
The Magewoman had had no idea of the Xandim legend that the Dragon’s Tail was impassable and, besides, the unstable ridge was always shifting and being resculpted by wind and weather. She had, with difficulty, succeeded in making the crossing, and during her wanderings on the other side had met with the Black Ghosts of the mountain. There had been so many that she had been forced to use her powers to defend herself—and in the course of her magic had discovered the possibility of communication. On meeting their First Female, Meiriel had discovered that she and Gristheena were of a like mind. The great cat had been wounded, and was still smarting from a recent defeat by some outlaw. Her position as leader was currently very tenuous, and she had been glad of the Magewoman’s powers to back her authority. And Meiriel? She had needs of her own.