Heritage Of The Xandim

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.’

‘Hellorin?’

‘Don’t think so - at least not entirely. There’s something new here: something strange and very powerful. Ignore the sea. Search beyond the wind. Can’t you feel it?’ She swore again. ‘Plague take it! I thought this world was the home of the Old Magic. Everybody knows that the Old Magic can’t cross water. I thought we’d be safe out here.’

‘Maybe it’s different in this world, where the whole place is founded on Old Magic.’

Though the sea and wind were growing more turbulent by the moment, the sky had remained blue, and unnaturally clear. But now they saw a great black barrier of cloud bearing down on them from the north, against the wind. Brows drawn down in a scowl of concentration, Iriana was muttering under her breath, reaching for focus. Then suddenly she raised a hand, and Corisand felt the alien, Wizardly magic go streaming past her, and up into the sky. With a jerk, the boat heeled over as the wind veered abruptly, blowing them towards the nearest scrap of land - that peculiar rock formation that the Windeye had seen in her mirror of vision, when it had brought her this way.

Iriana, trembling with the strain of her spell, said, ‘Whatever that thing is, we’d best not meet it on the open ocean.’

‘But what is it?’ the Windeye wondered. ‘Somehow this doesn’t have the stamp of Hellorin. Could the Moldan threaten us from this distance? Taku said he never left his mountain. Surely his reach, then, could not be so long?’

‘Don’t forget he has the Fialan.’ In this time of crisis, Iriana seemed to be picking up the thoughts directly from her mind.

‘Then how will we ever get near him, if his reach is so long and he’s already aware that we’re coming?’ Corisand ducked another wave, and cursed herself for sounding so feeble.

‘It’s not your fault.’ Again, the Wizard was replying to her unspoken thoughts as she drove the boat into the waves. ‘You’ve spent all your life as a horse - a prey animal. You have a naturally ingrained instinct for flight, rather than fight. But you’re not equine any more, my friend. Now you can think differently. Once you’re aware of the horse, you can override that instinct, and be the Windeye.’

There was no time for a reply. The sinister black barrier was almost upon them, and the gale had increased to screaming pitch. It would be a desperate race to reach the island in time. Suddenly, what looked like a long, black serpent dropped out of the bottom of the cloud bank, twisting and snaking down into the water. It formed a slim, sinister funnel shape that joined the ocean to the sky.

‘A waterspout,’ Iriana gasped. ‘If that thing reaches us we’ll be torn to pieces.’ With her teeth clenched and fire in her eyes, she steered the boat as straight as she could, up the slopes of the gargantuan green waves, through the welter of white water on the crests and down the other side, heading for the tiny slip of land with its tower of rock. Just before it hit the narrow beach, Corisand dissolved the little craft and formed a gentle ramp of air, down which they rolled and tumbled to dry land.

The waterspout was gaining on them, a ravening black monster that covered half the sky. Fierce winds tore at them, and rocks and gravel flew at them as if propelled by slingshots. ‘Quick!’ Grabbing hold of Iriana’s arm, Corisand pulled her to her feet and they hurried across the shingle towards the cave. As they hurled themselves inside, she felt a slight pressure against her skin, as though she had hit an invisible barrier - then she was through, and safe inside with Iriana at her heels.

The screaming of the tempest diminished. The Windeye, utterly stunned, took in her surroundings at a glance. Instead of the dark, dank sea cave she had expected, she and Iriana stood in a kingly hall. Its walls of dark stone scintillated with a galaxy of tiny specks of mica that caught and reflected the light from numerous floating globes, filled with what appeared to be captive moonlight. A great fire roared and crackled in a circular pit in the centre of the chamber, its smoke lost in the shadows far above.

Suddenly a great voice came rolling and echoing through the hall. ‘Well, see what the wind has blown in. It is many a long age since visitors have come here.’

Corisand started. She knew that voice: deep and reverberant enough to make the very bones of the earth vibrate, with a grinding, growling undertone that sounded like the movement of entire mountains. She had heard it when her mirror-borne vision had taken her to this place. ‘Basileus?’ Her own voice came out like the whistle of a bird in comparison to the ponderous, mighty tones.

‘Basileus indeed,’ the entity answered. ‘So, you have come to me in corporeal form, as I asked when last we met. That was bravely done, O Windeye. As you may have guessed, I am another Moldan. I am this rock, and this rock is me - in this world, at least. I—’

He was interrupted by a howl of rage. From outside, in the wild keening of the storm, another voice was heard: cold as the fierce, white, searing core of winter, and this time, somehow female. ‘Give me the Windeye and her Wizard companion. Give them to me now. They shall not have the Fialan - it will be mine.’

Basileus ignored the voice; ignored the keening of the gale and the crashing of the mighty waves that shook the tower. ‘Ah. Now I understand. You have no need to tell me, my friends, why you seek the Stone of Fate. I can see the reasons written clearly in your minds. You play a dangerous game, in seeking to pit yourselves against both Ghabal and Hellorin - and now my sibling, Aerillia, has decided to interfere on her own behalf.’

‘Is that who is outside?’ Iriana asked. ‘The one who made the storm?’

‘It is not only Aerillia, for she has allied herself with Hellorin, the Forest Lord - indeed, it was she who brought him here. She, too, wishes to gain the Fialan, so that the Moldai may once again dwell in both worlds, instead of just the Elsewhere.’

‘And you?’ Corisand asked quietly. ‘Where do you stand, sir? Do you not want the Stone of Fate?’

‘I would like to see your world again,’ the Moldan mused. ‘And had I wished, I could have used your ignorance to my advantage - but that is not my way. For my part, you are more than welcome to take the Fialan from the Elsewhere. Ghabal is a most unsafe guardian, and if it falls into other hands, there will be treachery and warfare here. Your world can have it - and all the problems it will bring in its wake. I know you have your reasons for wanting it. I only hope you know exactly what you are about.

‘Be that as it may, I will help you now, my friends. Aerillia and her pawn will learn the penalty for assailing me.’

‘Aerillia!’ His roar was loud enough to bring the companions to their knees. ‘The Windeye and the Wizard are mine to protect. Get you gone from here, you and the Phaerie Lord, or woe betide you.’

‘My brother.’ Aerillia’s voice turned sly and cajoling. ‘Surely you can see the danger in what they are trying to do? If they try to take the Fialan they are certain to fail, puny creatures that they are, but they will awaken the wrath of our poor, mad sibling. With the power that he wields, who knows what damage he will cause to the fabric of this world?’

‘And who knows what damage your Phaerie lapdog might cause if he gains the Stone, as you so clearly intend. I say again, Aerillia: get you gone from here and do not interfere with me and mine again, lest it turn to your undoing. You cannot have the Windeye and her friend.’

‘Then I will take them!’ Once more, her voice became the savage snarling of the storm, and Corisand saw, as if through the eyes of Basileus, the havoc that she wrought. Mighty winds smote the pillar of rock like hammer blows, tearing at the shaggy trees and bushes that clung to its steep sides. The sea rose up in mountainous waves that crashed down on the ancient bastion of stone.

Basileus sighed. ‘She never learns. She could never best me on her own, but because she has coupled her power with that of Hellorin, she believes herself invincible. She forgets that I can do the same.’

The Windeye felt his attention on her, as though her mind had been illuminated by a beam of brilliant light. A gasp from Iriana at her side told her that the Wizard had been included in the scrutiny.

‘Windeye, Wizard,’ the Moldan said. ‘Will you trust me? Will you link your powers with mine?’

‘Without hesitation,’ Corisand replied. ‘I have not forgotten, Basileus, how you helped me to escape Ghabal’s clutches when I travelled to his mountain through my mirror.’

‘And what of your companion?’

‘My name is Iriana, Sir.’ The Wizard stepped forward, even though the voice seemed to come from all around. ‘Corisand trusts you, so I do also. I will link my powers with you, if it is your wish.’

‘Thank you, Iriana. I think you and the Windeye have chosen well to take each other as companions. And now, both of you: open your thoughts to join with mine.’

By unspoken consent, Corisand and Iriana took each other’s hands and linked their minds. Then, with a deep breath, they took the final step together.

The Windeye felt the power of Basileus: as old as time, as strong as the very rock that sheltered her. Iriana’s magic had an entirely different energy: the inexorable force of Water, the mother of all life, that could destroy a city or wear a mountain down; the clean, fierce blaze of Fire; elusive, tempestuous Air, as difficult as a wild horse to control and focus; and the strong, solid power of Earth, as quick to heal as to destroy. Corisand felt her companions’ magic surging through her, mingling with her own ancestral powers to become a force far greater than the sum of its individual parts.

Then suddenly they were everywhere. A dizzying wave of vertigo swept over the Windeye as the constraints of her body dissolved. She was not only Corisand but Iriana too, with a body that felt completely different. She was part of the gnarled stone pillar of Basileus, and felt the drape of vines and bushes around her shoulders, and the slight pull of the fir trees that leant out over the water. She felt the fury of the other Moldan crashing against her in a black vortex of wind and waves, and she was the wind and waves themselves. Corisand, her consciousness everywhere, was both inside and outside it all, watching from a distance yet playing an active part.

Then Aerillia - she thought of the entity as Aerillia, though she knew that the Moldan was linked to Hellorin in the same way that she was linked to her companions - seemed to see them, and the vortex of the storm became a great white dragon that towered high above the stone pillar, its outstretched wings blotting out half the sky. Corisand, part of the gigantic force that was also Iriana and Basileus, felt her own form changing in response, into another of the mighty beasts, this time with scales of gleaming black. Aerillia reared back and hissed a challenge, and the Basileus-dragon bellowed a response. Then the two titanic figures leapt upon each other in an earth-shaking collision, clawing with their long, sharp talons and snapping with their mighty teeth.

There was no doubt that the struggle was real. Corisand felt the strain in her muscles as the two behemoths grappled, and the pain when the scimitar teeth of the white dragon tore into her hide. Magic kept them on the ocean’s surface as they battled back and forth; sometimes on their feet, sometimes rolling over and over, locked in deadly combat.

For a time, neither gained an advantage. The white dragon was faster, but the black was stronger. Both were bleeding - actually bleeding, thought Corisand in shock - from numerous wounds. Clearly the white dragon was tiring: her movements were slower now, and her attacks lacked their former force - but her opponent was suffering too. The Windeye, locked in her strange, three-way partnership within the dragon’s body, could feel its great limbs growing heavy with exhaustion.

Then Basileus, controlling the monster, put the last of their combined strength into one final, savage attack. Aerillia, taken unawares, was thrown off balance, and the black dragon’s teeth ripped into her unprotected throat. Screeching, she tore herself free and fled, leaving behind her a trail of thick blood that stained the ocean crimson.

The huge black dragon vanished, and Corisand found herself standing back in the hall of stone beside a stunned and bedraggled-looking Iriana.

‘Well fought, my friends.’ The voice of the Moldan boomed around them. ‘Aerillia has gone to lick her wounds; she will trouble you no more.’

‘Where are our wounds?’ The Windeye was examining her unmarked limbs.

‘I took them into myself,’ Basileus replied. ‘It will be hard enough for you to deal with Ghabal, without the additional handicap of injuries.’

‘Thank you,’ Iriana said. ‘Without your aid, I think our journey would have ended right here.’

‘Do not underestimate yourselves.’ The Moldan’s voice was as kind as sunshine. ‘The two of you together are stronger than you know. I would enjoy your company for longer, O Windeye, O Wizard, but time is passing, and while Hellorin and Aerillia are recovering from their wounds, you must strike. I hope that we may meet again some day.’

‘I hope so too,’ said Iriana.

‘And I,’ added Corisand. ‘Farewell, Basileus. Our thanks go with you.’

‘One word of warning before you leave, my friends. If you succeed in your quest, beware the Fialan. Though your intentions are good, such immense power has a way of being unpredictable. Once you have it within your world, who knows what may happen?’