Aurian

11 Trial by Combat

It’s truly autumn now, Aurian thought, as she rode through the deserted streets toward the Garrison. The weather was fine and clear as dawn stroked the city’s roofs with golden fingers, but the light was paler now, the air clear and crisp. For the first time in months Aurian wore her cloak, and was grateful for it. Miathan had given her a new one, a luxurious mantle of thick soft wool dyed her favorite emerald-green, but it hung neglected behind her door while Aurian instead wore Forral’s sturdy old soldier’s cloak made from the tough oily wool of mountain sheep. She knew it was foolish, but wearing his cast-off cloak seemed to bring him closer to her. The swordsman was still keeping a discreet, unbridgeable distance between them, and she was close to despair. She had loved him for so long! Ever since her childhood. She hadn’t known then that it was forbidden for a Mage to love a Mortal, and now it was too late. How could she ever love anyone else?

Which brought her back to her other, far more pressing problem. Miathan. Since the Archmage had first adopted her as his pupil, he had treated her like a favorite daughter, and she’d loved and respected him as such, But yesterday’s happenings had changed everything. Aurian shuddered, unable to shake off a crawling feeling of uncleanliness. Though she had never taken a lover, she’d been well educated by her earthy friends at the Garrison, and the idea of sKSring Miathan’s bed filled her with revulsion. His cruelty to Anvar had first given her cause to doubt him—and had he deliberately lied about the servant being a murderer? Aurian knew that she would never be able to trust the Archmage again, and her relationship with him was now tinged with an undercurrent of fear. Last night, in the excitement caused by Anvar’s discovery, she had managed to avoid being alone with Miathan, but how long could she keep avoiding him? He was the most powerful person in the city, and what he wanted, he could take.

Apart from Finbarr, Aurian dared confide in none of the Magefolk. If this had been Miathan’s intention all along, any or all of them might be in the plot. To be chosen by the Archmage as a consort was deemed the greatest of honors. Eliseth would give her right arm for it, Aurian thought wryly. She thought of discussing it with Maya, but then Forral would be sure to find out, and she wanted to avoid that, knowing full well how he would react. He was no match for the Archmage.

It’s no use, Aurian thought despairingly. I should leave Nexis and go back to the Valley. But though it was the only sensible option, she could not stop the tears coming at the thought. How can I leave? What will happen to Anvar without me? He belongs to the Academy—I wouldn’t be allowed to take him. And how can I leave Finbarr, and Maya and Parric and Vannor? And, oh—Forral! How could I bear to lose him again? Weary as she was after yesterday’s shock and a sleepless night, her thoughts circled in hopeless misery, without ever coming near to a solution.

Absorbed in her troubles, the Mage rode through the great stone gateway of the Garrison, scarcely aware that she had arrived. Too late, she heard the thunder of hooves bearing down on her. Her training saved her—that, and blind instinct. She felt the wind from the sword stroke whistle over her head as she dived beneath the belly of her horse, one foot still in the stirrup, one hand clutching the reins and the pommel of the saddle. Drawing her dagger with her free hand, she sliced the girth of her assailant’s mount as it passed, then hauled herself upright and wheeled her horse around in time to see the other’s saddle rock and tip, dumping the rider into the dust of the parade ground, Aurian grinned. Parric, with-wljjwn she had lately been training, sat on the hard-packed earth, swearing horribly.

“Got you!” Aurian crowed, her troubles, for the moment, vanished. “You owe me a beer, Parric.”

The little Cavalry master gave her a sour look, and spat out a mouthful of dust. “Pah! Beer, indeed! You were so bloody slow, I could have had your head off if I’d wanted!”

“Rubbish!” Aurian retorted. “What are you doing down there, then? Go on, admit it, I won.”

“Didn’t!”

“Did!” She looked around for support, and saw Maya over on the archery range at the far side of the parade ground, watching D’arvan shooting at targets with Fional, the Garrison’s crack archer.

“Maya, did you see it?” she called. “I did win, didn’t I?”

Forral’s Second-in-Command—the slender, dark-haired young woman whose luminous, delicate beauty belied whiplash reflexes and one of the most aggressive, effective fighting styles that Aurian had ever seen—stood little over five feet tall, but she had no trouble keeping order—even the biggest trooper feared her acid tongue. Yet she was quiet and shy among strangers, preferring the company of a few intimate friends. Since their first meeting so long ago in the Fleet Deer, she and Aurian had become very close. What was more, Maya seemed to be acquiring a taste for Magefolk. Since D’arvan had started coming with Aurian to the Garrison, he and Portal’s Second-in-Command could usually be found together.

Aurian was delighted that the shy young Mage had found a friend outside the Academy. He had grieved so hard, at first, over Davorshan’s defection to Eliseth. D’arvan’s early visits to the Garrison had been strained and awkward, and for a while she had despaired, but his shyness had eventually been vanquished by the discovery of an incredible talent for archery, of all things. Then Maya had won his trust at last, and taken a weight of worry from the Mage’s shoulders. The twins, at this point, seemed to have called a truce; though they had moved to separate rooms, they had apparently learned to live with the differences that had alienated them from one another. And Aurian, to her surprise, had been well repaid for her kindness to D’arvan, for she had gained another friend within the Academy where she had least expecTed to find one.

Aurian was brought back from her thoughts by Parric’s voice. “Well, you heard her—did she win?”

Fional simply shrugged, and D’arvan, intent on his shooting, gave the two assailants an absentminded wave. Maya, however, sauntered across to them, grinning. “Parric’s right, you were slow,” she said to Aurian.

“See?” the Cavalrymaster jeered. Aurian’s face fell.

“But,” Maya went on, “you were bloody effective. Cutting that girth was the neatest trick I’ve seen in ages! Face it, Parric, you’ve taught her too well. I give the result to Aurian.”

“Ha!” Aurian pointed at the little man. “Told you!”

“Bloody women!” Parric muttered disgustedly as he picked himself up, beating the dust out of his clothing. “Always stick together!”

Aurian dismounted with a smile. An outsider, she thought, would have been horrified by the incident, but within the Garrison, such surprise attacks were commonplace. The troopers were a close-knit family. They policed the city and its surrounds, dealt with any trouble, and fought any battles or wars that the Council needed fighting; and they were well aware of the dangers of their profession. Hence the potentially lethal tricks they played on one another. They pushed themselves and their comrades to the limits out of friendship—to sharpen their wits and skills, and increase their chances of survival. It was very effective. Now, thanks to Forral and her comrades-in-arms, she was a better fighter than she had ever been, and the friendships she had made were worth more than gold.

Aurian suddenly became aware that Maya was speaking to her. “What did you say?”

“I said, how was your visit to your mother?”

“Oh, I don’t know—about the same as usual.” Gods, had she only returned yesterday? It seemed unbelievable to Aurian.

“Honestly, you’re miles away this morning,” Maya said. Linking arms, the two women strolled towards the barnlike building that housed the Garrison practice floor.

“I’ve been up all night, as D’arvan might have told you, had you been able to get his attention away from his archery,” Aurian told her. “There’s great-excitement at the Academy. Finbarr found some caves beneath the archives, filled with old documents that might hold the lost history of the Magefolk, before the Cataclysm.”

Maya shuddered at the mention of the long-ago magical wars that had almost destroyed the world, and made a sign against evil. “Gods,” she said, “I thought everything had been destroyed!”

“We all did, but apparently someone had the sense to hide this stuff away out of danger. Although the Academy of that time was leveled along with the rest of the city, these artifacts survived the centuries,” Aurian said. “It took us half the night to unravel the spells protecting them, just so that we could touch them, and thea-they started to disintegrate. We spent the rest of the night working preservative magic so that we wouldn’t lose the lot.”

“If you ask me, you should have left them well alone,” Maya said darkly. “Mark my words, Aurian, no good will come of digging up ancient evils.”

At her friend’s words, Aurian felt her skin prickle. The day seemed to darken with the presentiment of some impending catastrophe. She shivered.

“What’s wrong?” Maya asked sharply.

“Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all.” She tried to convince herself that it was true.

“Are you sure you should fight this morning?” Maya sounded anxious. “Tired people make mistakes, you know.”

Aurian stopped in her tracks. “Great Chathak! I’d forgotten all about that!”

“Wonderful,” Maya said dryly. “This year Forral chooses you, out of everyone in the Garrison, to partner him in the demonstration duel for the new recruits, and you forget. It’s only an honor given to the best warrior in the place. No wonder such a little thing slipped your mind!”

“Oh shut up, Maya!” Aurian snapped.

“Staying up all night hasn’t made any difference to your legendary grouchiness first thing in the morning!” Maya teased, then her face grew serious, “I’m sorry, Aurian. I can see that something’s bothering you. Look, do you want to talk about it? We have time. Forral overslept again.” She made a wry face.

Aurian sighed, as her friend’s sympathy tempted her to spill out all her worries. With an effort she pulled herself together. “Thanks, Maya, but it’s something I’ll have to sort out for myself,” she said. “If we have time, though, I could kill for some tatlin!”

As they sat in the deserted mess hall cradling their steaming cups, Maya returned to the attack. “It’s not this business with Forral, is it?” she persisted.

“What?” For an instant Aurian thought her friend had discovered her feelings for the swordsman, but Maya’s next words disabused her. “He’s managed to hide it from most of the Garrison, but no one can drink like that without it coming to light sooner or later.”

Aurian’s heart sank. “How long has this been going on?”

Maya shrugged. “Weeks—months, really. But lately it’s been getting worse, and as Forral’s friend, as well as his deputy, I’m worried. He’s losing his edge, Aurian. I can see it already, and you know what it’s like around here. Sooner or later somebody will pull a stunt on him like Parric did to you this morning, and he’s going to get hurt.” Maya stopped short at the horrified expression on Aurian’s face. “Damn my big mouth! You didn’t know, did you?”

“It’s all right,” Aurian said weakly. “I wish you’d told me sooner. Maybe I can talk to him about it.”

“Thanks, Aurian. I’m sorry to burden you with this, but he might listen to you. He—” Maya suddenly shut her mouth, her eyes narrowing. She stood up abruptly. “Come on,” she said, “It’s time we were going.”

The banks of wooden benches around the practice floor were packed to capacity. The new recruits sat on one side, and the remaining seats were packed with every off-duty member of the Garrison who could squeeze in. The annual no-holds-barred exhibition fight, to show the newcomers what would eventually be expected of them, was always spectacular, and no one wanted to miss seeing the world’s greatest swordsman in action—especially this year. Forral always chose the best warrior as his opponent, and in nominating Aurian he had risked the charge of favoritism. The troopers, however, knew better, and the wagering—strictly illegal—on the fight was heavier than usual.

The atmosphere was tense with excitement as Aurian entered the arena. She’d done the exercises and meditations to prepare her body and mind for the coming fight, but still she found herself glancing worriedly at Forral as he entered. Apart from a slight puffiness about the eyes, he seemed well enough, and Aurian forced herself to put Maya’s confidence out of her mind until later. The two contestants, clad alike in sleeveless leather fighting vests, leather breeches, and soft boots, bowed to each other formally, and the fight began.

Aurian circled warily, knowing better than to commit herself too hastily with a warrior of Forral’s caliber. Suddenly he lunged, finding an opening she could have sworn was never there. She leapt back, feeling his sword’s very tip graze the tough leather of her vest just over her ribs. Good thing she was fast on her feet. She-feigned a stumble, then drove in to one side. A trickle of blood appeared on Forral’s left arm, and the audience’s startled gasp echoed Aurian’s own. First blood to her, and so soon! He should never have fallen for an old trick like that. She had to do something. She drove in again, straight this time. Forral blocked her blow with his upraised sword, and they strained against each other, nose to nose, blades locked. Aurian heard the spectators gasp again. They thought she had made an error in closing with the burlier, stronger man, but her move had been deliberate. “Slowing up, old man?” she taunted softly. “Today’s the day I beat you, Forral.”

She saw shock and anger flick across his face, but there was no time for more. In a whirling flurry of steel he disengaged, almost wrenching Aurian’s blade from her hand. Then the fight was on in earnest. To Aurian, time seemed to slow as she and Forral wove their intricate dance of death across the sands. All other concerns were forgotten as the world narrowed to herself, her opponent, and the gleaming steel they wielded.

Coronach screamed its death song as it clove the air, and Aurian exulted with the blade—and became the blade with its clean, sharp flicker followed by the jarring impact that ran up her arms as the two swords clashed again and again. She registered the warm trickle of blood from a dozen minor wounds, then forgot them. Forral was also bleeding in several places. He was red-faced and panting now, his movements less fluent than her own. With a sudden shock, Aurian realized that she could beat him, though the split second’s distraction almost cost her the fight. She saw Forral’s downswing just in time, tucked in her head and rolled, coming up again, sword still in hand, to press the attack. Step by step, she began to force him backward.

The awareness that he was losing began to dawn on Forral’s face, and with it, the atmosphere of the fight was changed. He was proud of her—Aurian knew it as though she had picked the thought from his mind. As they fought, the air was charged with a tension between them, a bond so close that they were almost fighting as one, and Aurian knew that they were no longer fighting against each other—they were fighting with one another, though each was striving their utmost to win. Despite her wounds and the tiredness that was creeping over her, the feeling was like heady wine. A slow smile spread across Forral’s face, and she found herself grinning back in answer. Never had they been so utterly together.

The fight went down in Garrison legend. Those fortunate enough to witness it said afterward that the moves were so fast that they could hardly be seen. No one knew how long it took —Aurian lost all track of time in the exhilaration of the contest. Then, abruptly, it was over. Forral was sprawled on the sand at her feet, the tip of her sword at his throat.

The audience was stunned into silence as Aurian lifted her blade to salute him, sagging with exhaustion as the tension of the fight drained from her limbs. Leaning on her sword, she put out a hand to help Forral to his feet. As he rose, their eyes met, and in that one glance, all the words, all the feelings that they had hidden in their hearts for so long, passed between them. There was no more hiding now. Supporting each other, they left the arena. The crowd, as if released from a spell, leapt to its feet and burst into tumultuous cheers. Aurian exchanged a startled look with Forral. They had both forgotten all about the crowd.

Without a word, they limped back to Forral’s quarters. Before the door had time to close, they were in each other’s arms. They made love right there on the floor—blood, sweat, sand, and all. The touch of Forral’s hands sent delightful shivers over Aurian’s skin as he discarded her bloodstained clothing, and his own. She remembered crying out once, as he first penetrated her, and later she found bruises on his shoulders where her fingers had clenched in that instam>of pain. Forral cried out as his body tensed and shuddered; he had longed for this moment for so many years, he could delay no longer. Then he relaxed against her, kissing her eyes, her neck, her mouth. Aurian moaned, still tense, wanting . . . She felt his hand caress her breasts, her thighs, then between her thighs, and as he brought her to her own release he entered her once more, and this time, when the moment came, they were together; their passion lasting and deep and strong with friendship and respect and the deep, deep joy of an old love turned new.

They lay in each other’s arms, letting the world drift slowly back to them. Aurian was filled with awe. She had passed through the most important event in a woman’s life— and Forral loved her. Not as the young girl he had known, but as a woman. She felt transformed, and so, somehow, was he. Aurian felt unaccountably shy in the presence of this muscular, hairy man—her lover. Then he turned to her, his face alight with tenderness, and he was Forral again, whom she had always loved and trusted.

“Ah, love,” he murmured, “if you only knew . . .”

Aurian reached out to touch his face. “I’ve known ever since I was a little girl. I told you then, remember?”

“Aye, so you did. 1 thought it was just a childish fancy, though. I didn’t take into account how stubborn you can be, And what a fighter! Gods, but I was proud of you today!”

“You taught me, Forral—and now you’ve taught me something else.” Aunan’s eyes danced. “Who do you think won this time, then?”

“Wretch!” Forral laughed. “Who do you think won?”

“I think,” Aurian said happily, “it was a draw.” And she kissed him.

They bathed, and doctored each other’s wounds from the duel. Aurian wanted no magical Healing today. She had magic of another kind, and every one of these scars was precious to her. None of the cuts was serious, but now that Aurian was noticing them, they stung. She was beginning to stiffen up after being sweated up in a battle then making love on a drafty floor. But it made no difference. She and Forral were stupefied with wonder. They could hardly stop touching each other, and gazing into one another’s^eyes. To Aurian it was like coming home.

Their ministrations might have developed into something more, but they were interrupted by a discreet knock on the door. Forral swore, and went to answer it. No one was there, but a large tray, laden with food and drink, had been left on the floor. As Forral put it on the table, Aurian spotted a slip of folded paper propped against a flask of wine. Forral opened it, and burst out laughing. “I might have known!” He handed the note to Aurian, who recognized Maya’s neat, compressed hand. “About bloody time!” it said.

After they had eaten, they decided to see if their love felt as good between clean sheets. It was even better. Dusk found them sitting up in bed, sipping peach brandy as the sound of Maya’s voice drilling the hapless new recruits in the parade ground drifted through the open window.

Aurian sipped the mellow spirit. The warm glow, as it trickled down her throat, matched the glow she felt inside. But it reminded her of more serious matters, and she turned to Forral. It was best to get things right out in the open.

“Why have you started drinking so much?” she asked him.

Forral almost dropped the glass. His face flushed guiltily. “Who told you?”

“Maya. She’s worried, Forral, and so am I.”

“Gods, does that wretched woman know everything? Between the two of you, a man doesn’t stand a chance!”

“That’s because we care about you,” Aurian said softly,

Forral put his arm round her, “I know, love, and I’m sorry, A man gets defensive when he knows he’s been acting like a fool. It was just—well, it was you.”

“Me?”

He nodded, “I don’t know when I stopped thinking of you as a child, but when I did—well, I’ve had women before . . .”

“Oh?” Aurian’s voice had a dangerous edge. His previous lovers were the last thing she wanted to discuss right now!

“But not for a long time,” Forral said hastily, ruffling her hair. “Anyway, I knew you felt the same, I tried to avoid this happening, to protect you, but I knew I was hurting you, and it hurt me too—-and so I started drinking,”

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” Aurian demanded, “Think of the time we’ve wasted!”

Forral sighed. “Look, let’s talk about this another time. We’ve been so happy today, I don’t want to spoil it.”

“No,” Aurian said fiercely, “I want to know. You said yourself that I’m not a child anymore. Is it something to do with this stupid Mage—Mortal proscription? Because I’ve already thought about that, and I don’t care. If need be, we can go away together. Miathan doesn’t own the world.”

“No, it’s not Miathan, though we’ll have trouble enough when he finds out about this. But there’s something that you haven’t considered.” Forral’s face looked very grave. “Aurian, you’re Mageborn. Unless something kills you, you can live as long as you want. It’s different for me—I’m a Mortal. I’m not a young man—I’m over forty now—and even if I survive the dangers of a warrior’s life, how many years do you think I’ll have left? I tried to stop this from happening because I love you, and all too soon I’ll be dead, and I can’t bear to think of you left alone to grieve.”

Aurian felt a dizzy lurch in the pit of her stomach. She had never considered Forral’s mortality. As she stared at him in horror, the room seemed to vanish around her, and she felt the same premonitory shiver of dread that she had experienced that morning. It seemed as though his features had been overlaid with a vision of that same dear face, but pale and still, the eyes closed in the sleep of death.

“No!” Her own tearing cry brought her back to reality. The vision vanished as she buried herself in Forral’s arms, sobbing.

He held her tightly, and it seemed as though his warrior’s strength were flowing into her. She stiffened her spine and wiped her eyes, and her chin went up in the old stubborn gesture. “If grief is the price of our love,” she said, “then I’ll pay it. Not willingly, maybe, but in full. I love you, Forral. I’ve waited years for this, and I’m not losing you now. Even Magefolk don’t live forever. We may be parted for a while, but someday I’ll find you again, I promise, in the worlds Beyond. I already have Miathan to fight—I’ll take on Death too, if need be.”

There were tears in Forral’s eyes, but he smiled. “My warrior,” he said gruffly. “I’m^lad you’re on my side.”

“Always. And I’ll be there for a long time yet!”

Forral hugged her. “The Gods help anyone who tries to come between us. One thing though, love. When I’m dead—”

“Don’t say that!” Aurian cried.

“Just this once,” Forral said firmly, “and I want you to remember what I’m going to tell you now. You don’t know grief yet, but I do, and I want to warn you. When I die, at first you may want to follow me. Don’t. You’ve been blessed with the gift of long life, Aurian, and many other gifts besides. It would be a grave sin to throw those gifts away. I can’t go on with our love if it will rob you of your future. No, love—when I’m gone, I want you to find someone else, if you can, and be happy.”

“How can I?” Aurian protested bitterly. “How could you ask such a thing of me?”

“Because I love you, and I don’t want you to go through the years alone. That would be foolish and unfair. I’ve seen people waste their lives moping around the graves of their loved ones. Don’t you ever make that mistake, because I won’t be there. I’ll be with you, wherever you are, in your heart. If I ever catch you at my graveside, I’ll—I’ll make it rain on you, see if I don’t!”

Despite her anguish, Aurian had to smile at that, and as the moment lightened, they turned to talk of happier things. But Aurian kept his words in her heart. She felt older now, and sadder, but stronger and more determined than ever. Now that she understood its transience, her love for Forral was bittersweet, but infinitely precious.

Miathan had missed Aurian the previous day. As soon as she entered the room, hand in hand with Forral, he knew where she had been—and why. Forral did not bow. “Archmage,” he said calmly, “Aurian and I have become lovers.”

At the words of this upstart Mortal, Miarhan felt his guts twist with icy rage. Aurian met him eye to eye, her face pale but her expression unrepentant. He turned his fury on Forral. “Lawbreaker!” he hissed, his voice shaking wi.th anger. “Seducer! Transgressor!”

“What?” Aurian was aflame with indignation. “You dare accuse Forral—” She bit off her-wojds with a sideways look at the warrior, and Miathan saw her fighting to conquer her anger. Ah, he thought. So she had never told him.

“What you have done is forbidden,” he snapped.

“Nonsense!” Aurian retorted. “The Mage—Moral proscription isn’t a law, and it’s not in the Mages’ Code. It’s a recommendation made for practical reasons. If Forral and I can live with the problems, what affair is it of yours?”

Miathan was beside himself with rage. “This affair will be the scandal of the whole city! How dare you embarrass the Magefolk, and me, in this way?”

“Not so, Miathan,” Forral intervened. “The people view Aurian differently from the other Magefolk, after that business of the drought. They^s.ee her with me, or going to and fro from the Garrison, and frankly, they find her much more acceptable than the rest of you. My people already think of her as one of themselves, and the troopers will soon deal with any loose talk. Vannor is fond of her too, so there’ll be no trouble from the merchants—”

“Well, there will be trouble from the Magefolk!” Miathan stormed. “I’ll break you for this, Forral. I’ll have you thrown off the Council! Banished from the city—”

Forral smiled coldly. “I don’t think so, Archmage, You see, it’s no longer up to you to arrange the military presence on the Council. You might be interested to know that I’ve already appointed my successor^-in case anything should go amiss. You know Maya, my Second-in-Command? For some reason, she has no time for this idea of the Magefolk running Nexis, You’ll really have fun wrangling with her on the Council! Vannor is looking forward to it already.”

“But—but you can’t do that!” Miathan spluttered. Forral grinned. “Oh, yes I can. Vannor seconded the nomination, and we had it set down in the official records.”

The Archmage was aghast. He took a step toward Forral, intending to blast him into oblivion. But Aurian stepped quickly in front of the swordsman, raising her hand in a sweeping gesture. Miathan saw the air blur and shimmer as her magical shield snapped into place. There was a look of pure hatred on her face that he had never seen before.

“Just try it, Miathan,” she growled, “I’m not your pupil for nothing. Let’s see how rtTuch you’ve taught me!”

She meant it! Miathan was on the verge of losing her completely, and his carefully tended plans would be lost with her. His age-old cunning reasserted itself. He was an expert in deceit, and he was ruthless. He knew now that he had erred badly in letting his lust get the better of him when Aurian had returned from the Valley. Somehow, in her absence, he had persuaded himself that once he possessed her body, he would win her heart. Witless fool! This was no simple Mortal girl, to be overawed by his position and his powers. And now, thanks to his clumsy haste, he had driven her right into the arms—and the bed—of that swordsman. A just punishment indeed, for his own stupidity!

Miathan knew he must win back Aurian’s trust—and in order to do so, he’d have to swallow his pride. Trembling with strain, he forced down his anger and schooled his features into a semblance of regret. “Aurian, please forgive me. I’m truly sorry —for everything. I have behaved very badly to you, and I truly wish to make amends. Forral, my deepest apologies. I should have anticipated this long ago, knowing how Aurian feels about you.” He sighed. “I cannot say that I approve—but I love Aurian, and I value your support. If this is what you want, I must accept it. Be happy, then—for as long as you can.”

Aurian hesitated, suspicion written clearly on her face.

“My dear, I beg you.” Miathan forced tears into his eyes. “Don’t punish me for my hastiness. I would rather lose anything in the world than your good opinion. I swear by my very magic that I accept and respect your decision.”

“Thank you, Archmage.”

Though her reply was spoken calmly, the Archmage saw Aurian relax a little, and heard relief in her voice as she lowered her shields at last. But where she would once have come running to hug him, she remained where she was, with one hand on Forral’s arm. Miathan gritted his teeth against the surge of possessive desire that welled up in him. By the Gods, when he finally took her, this humiliation would be repaid a thousandfold ...

Once Aurian and Forral were safely away, the Archmage took out his fury in a blast of force that shook the tower to its foundations. He strode across the, smoking carpet, kicking the splintered furniture aside, and pressed a section of the blackened wall. A panel flew open with a click, revealing a hollow space. Miathan reached inside and took out a golden goblet, He sat by the window on the one undamaged chair, staring blindly out and caressing the rich, intricately chased metal. The cup was wide and shallow, with a slim golden stem and a broad, heavy base. It hummed with power—a power so ancient and so great that it brought the very air alive. Miathan smiled. Not all was lost—he had found this precious thing in the cave that Finbarr had discovered, and had stolen it secretly away before the others saw it. He knew what it was, and it changed everything.

In the dark years following the Cataclysm, most of the history and lore of the ancient Magefolk had been lost. All that remained of the shining Elder Age were vague, colorful legends, so corrupted by time that it was impossible to sift the truth from minstrels’ lays and old wives’ tales. One legend, however, Miathan now knew to be true. It spoke of the four great magical Weapons of the Elements—the Harp of Winds, the Staff of Earth, the Sword of Fire—and the Caldron of Rebirth. Although it now took the form of this golden chalice, Miathan was sure that he held a fragment, possibly refashioned to disguise it, of the Caldron, He was also certain that it held the Caldron’s power, and that, given time, he could learn to master it,

Miathan’s eyes burned. Let them wait, those who dared defy him! Aurian, Forral, Vannor—-and Anvar, that accursed abomination who had thwarted him when he’d been so close to his goal. Let them enjoy their petty victory for a while. Let Finbarr labor like a blind mole in his Archives, unwittingly providing his Archmage with the very information that he needed to bend the world to his will. Let Aurian copulate like an animal with that thrice-damned, rutting swordsman, blithely unaware of the fate in store for her . . .

Fear pierced Miathan’s heart like a sword of ice. How history repeated itself! He thought of Ria~so sweet, so compliant beneath him—and remembered his disgust when she had told him he was to be the father of a half-breed monster. What if it should happen again—to Aurian? The thought of her bearing Forral’s brat turned him sickjto the very core. But wait—what if the child, if child there were, should really be a monster? That would suit his ends, for such a creature could hardly possess magical powers,’and it would also punish Aurian and Forral for their perfidy.

Miarhan drew his power around him, and as he did so, he felt the chalice quiver in his hands. Choosing his words carefully, he summoned a deadly bane against any such babe, that it should take the form, not of the human that had fathered it, but of the first beast that Aurian set eyes on after she had given birth. As he spoke the curse, the grail flared with a brief, cold light and there was a noise like a thunderclap, far across the city.

Triumph swelled within the Archmage’s heart. So the thing retained its powers! It would take much study to learn how to wield it effectively, but in the end this weapon would give him mastery over the world—and over Aurian. After that, he would have all the long ages to make her pay for what she had done.