Maggie Furey - Sword of Flames

“Eat dung, you stinking, verminous sack of bones!” Shia snarled, projecting her mental voice toward the Weather-Mage. “May maggots gnaw what passes for your brain!”

Eliseth jumped as the cat’s abuse echoed unexpectedly in her mind. Her magical attack faltered for a moment as she scanned the ranks of her foes, puzzled as to who had sent the message. Aurian, who had been far too busy concentrating on her shield to formulate a suitable reply, glanced at Shia. “Very nice,” she muttered. “I couldn’t have put it better myself!” It was all she had time for before Eliseth, white with anger at the insult, renewed her attack with redoubled force, sending white flares of energy rippling across the magical barrier, which was beginning to smoke and spark.

Anvar turned to Aurian, his face taut with strain. “We can’t keep this up much longer—not against the Caldron.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Soon we’ll be forced to use the Artifacts—”

“I know.” Somehow, Aurian managed to force the words out. “But not until the shield goes…”

But the shield was already beginning to buckle. With a sinking heart, Aurian realized that they had only a few more minutes…

As he reached the edge of the forest, D’arvan could hear the whistle of arrows through the air. He was almost knocked from his feet by the reek of evil magic. Gasping, he took in the scene before him. Aurian—it was Aurian, returned, and with her, Anvar and Parric… And, by all the gods, there was Vannor—definitely the merchant and not some illusion. He was very much alive, and screaming curses at the unyielding forest that denied him entry. But who were these strangers that came with them? No matter. The Mage’s eyes went to Eliseth, her eyes ablaze with hate and triumph, attacking Aurian’s crumbling shield…

D’arvan acted quickly, calling to the Wildwood. The trees, uneasy about the battle that was waging at their feet, resisted him. Grasping the Lady Eilin’s staff tightly, the Mage put forth all his power until, slowly and reluctantly, he felt the forest yielding to his will.

Vannor, incredulous, saw the widening opening in the ranks of trees. His heart leapt fiercely within him. “Come on,” he called to the huddled, beleaguered Xandim. “This way—hurry!” They needed no second telling. Vannor was forced to jump quickly to one side as they rushed past him into the shelter of the forest, until only Parric, the cats, Chiamh, Yazour, and Iscalda remained. Eliseth’s face turned ugly with rage as she saw that she was being thwarted. Fueled and impelled by her wrath, the force of her bolts increased against the disintegrating shield. Vannor, realizing that the Mages and their two Horsefolk could not retreat until everyone was safe, urged the remaining companions after the fleeing Xandim. “Move, you bloody idiots,” he roared. “Don’t just stand there—you’re holding everyone up!”

Luckily they saw the sense in what he was saying, and reluctantly obeyed him. Shia stopped beside him to wait for Aurian, fixing him with a baleful glare that froze his blood. Chiamh also waited. “When I change, get on my back quickly,” he told the merchant. “I will bear you swiftly away from our foes.” Once everyone else had scurried to safety, Vannor mounted Chiamh, who turned back from the edge of the forest. “Aurian, Anvar—now!” the merchant shouted. “Everyone’s safe. Get out of there!”

Schiannath and Esselnath wheeled as one, and came hurtling back toward the safety of the trees. Behind them, the shield collapsed in a final shower of sparks, and a scorching bolt of lightning ripped up the turf at their heels. Eliseth gave a scream of rage when she saw her prey escaping. She spurred her horse to follow, hurling thunderbolts and curses, but it was already too late. The trees of the forest closed ranks quickly, their branches entwining and a bristling barrier of thorns and briars springing up around them as the way snapped shut before Eliseth’s face. Cursing, the Weather-Mage turned away—and did not see the two wolves, a bow shot away from where she stood as they ran from behind the cover of a gorse bush. Dangling securely from the female’s mouth by the loose skin on its neck was a very young cub. Soundlessly, they slipped into the forest, following Aurian’s trail—and the trees parted swiftly to let them pass, and closed again behind them.

Still shaky from the narrowness of their escape, the companions went on into the shadowy depths of the Wildwood—too weary to talk, not daring to stop—following the easy path that had opened up ahead of them. At the brink of the Vale itself, where a beck from the moorland threaded its way between the trees to tumble down the black walls of the crater in a shimmering cascade, D’arvan opened up a clearing for the fugitives so that they could regroup and rest a little before making the final descent into the Valley. He stood back from the edge of the open space, invisible to the clustered Xandim, and waited, fidgeting with impatience and consumed with curiosity, for the Mages to arrive.

When they reached the clearing, on Horsefolk who were stumbling with fatigue, Aurian and Anvar slid down from their mounts to let Schiannath and Esselnath change back to their human shapes. “Thank the Goddess for that!” Schiannath pushed back a straggle of dark, curling hair from his sweating forehead. “I must confess that there were times, back there, when I thought I’d never get the chance to wear my human form again.”

“Herdlord, you were a true hero back there.” Aurian embraced him. “Had it not been for the courage of yourself and Esselnath, to stand firm despite all that Eliseth could throw at us, Anvar and I could never have kept up our shields. We would all have perished. We owe you our lives.”

“As I owe you mine, Lady—for without your shields we would have stood no chance,” Schiannath replied gravely. “Having known only you and Anvar, not to mention the Windeye, I never realized how potent a force magic could be when turned to evil. I came to help you willingly, but today, for the first time, I truly understand how vital our quest is to the fate of the world.”

As the Horsefolk went off to the stream to drink, Aurian and Anvar hugged each other in wordless relief—but in their hearts they knew that the reprieve could only be temporary at best. “How long do you think we have?” Anvar asked the Mage. Aurian shrugged. “Who can say? The forest seemed pretty determined to keep her out, but we’re dealing with Eliseth, here—and now she possesses the Caldron, too. Knowing her, I don’t think it will daunt her for long.”

“There’s one thing that puzzles me,” Anvar muttered, with a frown. “If Eliseth has the Caldron, what has become of Miathan? He wouldn’t voluntarily give such power into her hands, so what has she done with him? And how did she manage it? He must still be alive, for we never felt him die…” He grimaced. “It would be the ultimate irony if we ended up having to rescue the Archmage from Eliseth.”

“If we do,” said his soulmate grimly, “Miathan had better pray for someone to rescue him from us.”

Quickly, Aurian Healed the wounded who had been hit by the first of the enemy arrows, and thought sadly of the three who were no longer with them. But this was no time to be dwelling on sorrowful thoughts. As soon as everyone had been attended to, she and Anvar gathered their companions together. “Time is pressing, and we can’t stay here any longer,” Aurian told them, raising her voice over a chorus of curses and groans. “Vannor, Parric and Sangra—you take half our forces and go to the rebel encampment. Gather them as quickly as you can and head for the lake—we’ll meet you there. If Eliseth does manage to get into the forest, we don’t want her anywhere near the Sword—especially not when I’m trying to claim it. Anvar and I will go directly to the island with Chiamh, Yazour, the cats and the remaining Horsefolk. Cygnus, I want you circling over the forest to bring us news of the enemy, and keep up communications between the two groups in case anyone runs into trouble. Now, sort yourselves quickly, everyone—and let’s get on with this.”