Gristheena’s ears went down flat against her skull. Her tail lashed back and forth, and foam dripped from her jaws as she bared her fangs in a terrifying snarl. Without warning she leapt.
“This way!” Chiamh yelled. Had the Windeye not been reinforcing his voice with mental speech, it was doubtful whether Anvar would have heard him over the din of screeching, spitting felines. The Mage was relieved that Chiamh had succeeded, with his Othersight, in keeping track of Wolfs abductor, for Shia and Khanu—better able to insinuate themselves between the press of feline bodies—had already vanished far ahead of the two men, and Anvar himself had lost sight of Meiriel in the confusion that raged all over the canyon floor.
“Over there!” The Windeye pointed, and Anvar caught a glimpse of Meiriel, clothed in a tatterdemalion patchwork of rags and scraps of fur and hide. The madwoman was clutching a bundle that must be Wolf. As they watched, she gained the bottom of the spur and went scrambling like a spider up the side of the ridge.
“Come on!” Anvar tugged at Chiamh’s arm and, with his free hand, took a tighter grip on the hilt of his sword. Deeply reluctant as he was to harm any of Shia’s kin, the Mage was so anxious for Wolfs safety that he was prepared to carve a way through them with his blade, if it became necessary. Fortunately, however, it was not. The cats themselves seemed to be melting away before the two men, heading in the direction of the ridge. Anvar and Chiamh reached the foot of the escarpment unchallenged, and the Mage sprang quickly from ledge to ledge up the broken rocks, leaving the Windeye to grope his way up as best he might.
Gristheena sprang effortlessly over the heads of her followers to land all her vast, crushing weight on top of the old cat—and discovered that Hreeza was no longer there. Gristheena’s claws closed screeching on unyielding stone. Her jaws snapped shut on nothing—save her own tongue. Blood spattered the froth around her muzzle as she howled her humiliation and rage—and howled again as a set of iron jaws crushed the fine bones in her tail. Gristheena whirled, screaming, her battle cry drowning out the unbearable laughter of the watching cats. Hreeza gave one last agonizing jerk to the roots of Gristheena’s tail before she twisted lightly away.
The battle raged back and forth across the top of the spur as the two cats whirled and twisted for position, striking out at one another with their great, curved claws. Again and again the First Female tried to close with Hreeza, depending on her greater weight and strength to pull the old cat down. Again and again Hreeza eluded her, occasionally getting in a telling blow on her enemy’s nose or flank, but the elderly cat was tiring. Her movements were becoming less fluid, her sides were heaving, and her breath rasped harshly in her throat as she fought for breath.
Renewed hope goaded Gristheena into an unexpected burst of agility and speed. The great muscles in her haunches propelled her in an impossible leap—forward and sideways, catching the old cat by surprise. There was no escaping this time. Gristheena heard the dry snap of a breaking rib as her weight bowled her enemy over and over. The heavy paws knocked and buffeted Hreeza across the ridge, hitting her again and again with stunning force as the great claws raked bloody slashes in her sides.
Hreeza lashed out in blind desperation and connected, but Gristheena’s teeth met in her ear, ripping it to ribbons. Another instant, and it was over. Gristheena had the old cat pinned down flat against the rock and was straining to push her over, onto her back where she would be helpless against the great claws that could rip out her guts, and the lethal white fangs that would sink into her throat and drink her blood.
Meiriel was standing near the edge of the great black spur, and as she whirled to face him, Anvar saw that her features were contorted with shock and dismay. The next second he was almost knocked off his feet by a snarling black flurry of fur and muscle. On the top of the eminence, two great cats were fighting for their lives.
Anvar caught his balance and leapt toward Meiriel, but she eluded him, slipping like quicksilver out of reach of his blade. Lifting his sword, he lunged at her again, but the Magewoman whirled away from him, to the very brink of the escarpment. “Stop!” she cried. Anvar froze in horror as she lifted the wriggling, whimpering cub high above her head. “Come one step nearer,” Meiriel hissed, “and I will throw him over the edge!”
Ice sheeted down Anvar’s spine. Wolfs life was balanced on a knife edge. Now what was he to do? And where the blazes was Chiamh?
“Back away, Anvar.” The Magewoman’s voice was soft and menacing. “Get away from me, you lowborn Mortal scum—or I’ll make you sorry you ever dared meddle in the affairs of the Magefolk!”
It took a moment for the import of her words to sink in—then Anvar gasped. Meiriel didn’t know! She still thought of him simply as Aurian’s Mortal servant. She had no idea that he too possessed Mage blood—and its associated powers! Anvar smiled to himself, gathering the magical force deep within him, racking his brains for a spell—just the right spell—that would overcome Meiriel and also get Wolf out of danger. Maybe if he took them out of time…
From behind the Mage came the furious yowl of a great cat and the heavy thud of a falling body. Anvar jumped involuntarily—and in that split second of his distraction, Meiriel vanished. Anvar looked around wildly and spat out a vicious curse, but it was no good. The Magewoman had gone.
Hreeza, with a red-hot agony in her side that strangled every breath she tried to take, kept her claws anchored firmly in a small crevice. She crouched low to protect her vulnerable throat and belly but kept her ground, though her limbs were trembling with strain and a cold knot of dismay was forming deep within her. She knew that she could not hold on much longer. Death did not hold many terrors for Hreeza now—this was the second time in as many months that she had come so close. But she was heartsick at having failed.
Gristheena’s heart swelled with triumph. Already, she could taste the victory ahead. To gain a better leverage, she dug her sharp, wickedly curved claws deep into the black rock of the ridge and pushed at the old cat with all her strength. The First Female snarled deep in her throat. She could scarcely believe that this stringy old bag of bones could have the strength to resist such an onslaught! It only needed time, however…
Something huge and heavy hit Gristheena from the side. The breath shot out of her lungs. She lost her grip on Hreeza and went crashing to the ground as the weight or another cat crushed her down against the cold black stone. Half-stunned, Gristheena shook her head, opened her eyes—and blinked in dismay and disbelief. Above her, silhouetted against the dawn-pale sky, loomed the shape of her oldest and most bitter enemy.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance!” Gristheena snarled.
“But you did not.” Shia’s voice was chill and inexorable as a glacier. “You failed, Gristheena—and now you have failed again. Your reign is over.”
The last thing that Gristheena saw was the burning gold of Shia’s eyes as they caught the blaze of the sunrise. Then Shia’s powerful jaws closed around her throat, and darkness fell.
Meiriel laughed softly in triumph as she slipped, unseen, down the far side of the spur. During the long, tedious wait for Aurian to return with Parric, the Magewoman had occupied herself in perfecting an illusion spell that bent the air around her, effectively concealing her where she stood in plain sight. And it had worked—better than she would ever have imagined.
The glow of satisfaction at the success of her ruse helped cushion the shock Meiriel had received when she had returned to Steelclaw to find her ally, Gristheena, and her subjects under attack. The Magewoman scowled. How could it have happened? Could this sudden assault on Gristheena have something to do with her own adversary? A chill crawled up Meiriel’s spine. All this time she had been thinking of Aurian merely as her impulsive, inexperienced pupil from the old days at the Academy. It seemed that she had underestimated the power of the younger Mage.