Maggie Furey - Harp of Winds

Forral hesitated. Just what would he have said to Aurian? Poor lass—how torn she must be, between the need to protect her child, and the urge to hurry north to deal with Miathan’s depredations.

Forral, as a soldier, knew all about duty. But the one thing he hadn’t bargained on was the fierce, protective love of a parent for a child—even one as yet unborn. Suddenly, the swordsman was shamefully glad that the decision was out of his hands. But what would Aurian decide? He peered into the Well once more, anxiously scanning the forest for a sight of his love.

Aurian hesitated, looking unhappy and grievously undecided. The winged girl, sensing that the moment was slipping away, knew she must act quickly. “Aurian,” She leaned over and touched the Mage to gain her attention, “It would be safer to leave as soon as we can.!!

“What do you mean?” Aurian swung around, scowling.

Raven took a deep breath. She had agreed with Harihn only to use this information if all else failed, but seemingly, she had no choice, “I discovered something today, while I was out hunting,” she told her. “Harihn and his folk are camped here too, on the northwestern edge of the forest,”

“What?” Aurian cried in dismay, “Harihn is here? How do you know that for sure? You’ve never seen him,”

“It must be the Prince,” the winged girl replied hastily, “They were wearing similar clothing to you—and who else could it be?”

Anvar cursed, “Why the bloody blazes didn’t you tell us this before? If Harihn should find us—”

“But he may not she put in hopefully.

Anvar grimaced, “I wouldn’t care to count on it, Dear Gods, what a mess! Aurian and her child will be at risk in the mountains, yet we’re all in danger if we stay here?”

This was Raven’s moment! “Anvar,” she said persuasively, “it may not be so bad as you think. There is a place in the mountains, a watchtower built by my folk long ago, to mark the far boundaries of their kingdom. From here it should be

. . .” She shrugged. “Some fifteen to twenty days’ travel on the ground, I would guess. The building is secure and sturdy. We would be safe from attack and from the elements, and there is a coppice nearby for firewood. If we could get as far as that, then surely it would be a safer place than the forest for Aurian to have her child?”

As she saw the hope that brightened Aurian’s eyes, Raven’s guilt almost choked her. Think of Harihn, she told herself. Think of your people! But to look the Mages in the eye and answer their questions calmly, knowing all the while that she was betraying them, was the hardest thing that Raven had ever done.

“What would we do about food?” Aurian asked her.

The winged girl shrugged, glad that she and Harihn had thought out these problems in advance. “There must still be some hunting in the mountains—ptarmigan, goats, winter hares and such. But for the journey, and for settling in, we must take all we can carry from this place. We can leave a cache of food here in the forest, and if we run short, or there is no game to hunt after all, I can easily fly back for more.”

“And think,” Nereni added, “how good it would be for Aurian to have sheltering walls around her when she comes to bear her child.”

Aurian nodded, “Oh, I don’t disagree. The problem is, what shall we do for mounts? Anvar and I lost ours in the desert, and if we want to take enough food to last us, we’ll need a packhorse or two besides.”

Everyone looked at one another. Just as Raven was beginning to wonder if she’d have to suggest everything herself, Yazour came to her rescue. “We could always/! he said, with a wicked twinkle in his “steal from Harihn. Not now,” he added, forestalling their protests, “The last thing we want is the Prince’s men combing the forest for missing horses! But could we not do it when we are about to leave, with Raven and Shia to scout for us?”

Aurian grinned. “Well done, Yazour!” She turned to the winged girl. “Raven, you have my heartfelt thanks.”

It was late when everyone went to bed. Because of Harihn, there were watches to be organized, though Eliizar insisted that Yazour, Bohan, and himself would undertake them, to allow Aurian and Anvar a good night’s sleep after their trials in the desert. From the next day onward, Shia and Raven would keep watch on the Khazalim, to make sure that they stayed away from the companions’ camp.

Aurian was utterly relieved when at last she was able to curl up with Anvar in one of Eliizar’s rough shelters. Even so, her mind was seething with plans, and she found it difficult to settle down to sleep. “How soon do you think we’ll be able to get away?” she asked Anvar.

He shrugged, “Who knows? Our friends have been working very hard since they got here, but there’s still a lot to be done.”

“And in the meantime, we must leave someone free to keep an eye on Harihn and his folk, to make sure they don’t come wandering in our direction,” Aurian agreed

Anvar nodded. “It’s a big forest, apparently, and Raven says they’re camped near the northern edge. Presumably they plan to head north, so they probably won’t come back this way . . .” He paused, frowning, “Something is bothering me about this. Why are they still at all? They were well ahead of us, and they took all the gear that was stored in Dhiammara, so they must already be equipped for crossing the mountains, Why are they delaying?”

Aurian felt an unpleasant prickling between her shoulder blades, “Anvar, could they be waiting for us? I mean, Yazour

with horses, so they must known that we could get out of Dhiammara all . . .”

Anvar shook his head, “Surely, if it was an ambush, they would have scouts posted throughout the forest? And what better time to attack, than when we first came out of the desert? The others were distracted by our arrival, and we were certainly in no condition to defend ourselves!”

“To be honest, I’m not in much better condition now!” Aurian yawned. “I’m so tired I just can’t think straight!”

“You poor old thing!” Anvar teased her.

“Poor old thing, indeed!” Aurian growled, but she was chuckling as she lay down beside him.

Forral, watching, sighed. Though he knew he was being foolish, and tried to be generous in spirit toward his lost love, there were times when her growing closeness with Anvar seemed a bitter betrayal. The longing in the swordsman’s heart was an all-encompassing ache. “It should have been me . . .” His hand crept toward the surface of the pool . . .

“Enough.” Forral shuddered as the chill nontouch of Death clamped down upon his shoulders, hauling him away from the Well. “You have seen enough,” said the Specter. “Did I not warn you it would cause you pain? Come, now. You know that Aurian will be safe for a time in the forest. Be content, and leave the living to their own concerns.”

Hot words of protest formed on Forral’s lips, until he remembered his last sight of Aurian, curled up at Anvar’s side. He had told himself that he was only concerned for her safety—but Death was right. He knew she was safe now, and this further watching amounted to spying on her—which wasn’t doing either of them any good. Forral, grieving for the years together that he and Aurian had lost, suffered himself to be led away.

Aurian, who had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, fell asleep at last. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the battle in the desert, or the natural consequence of such an emotional day. Perhaps it was the relative coolness of the forest, or Nereni’s highly spiced stew, that made the Mage dream of Eliseth that night. Perhaps it was more than that.

Aurian dreamed that the Weather-Mage stood on the top of the Mages’ Tower in Nexis, arms outstretched to the midnight skies, calling down the storm from boiling clouds that gathered above the city. In one hand she bore a long, glittering spear of ice. Snow swirled around her, mingling with the streaming skeins of her silver hair as she climbed up to stand on the low parapet that circled the top of the tower, the cold perfection of her face alight with exaltation. With a shrill, wild cry she leapt—out, out and up, as the ice-wings of the storm bore her aloft. And south she came. South across the ocean, south across the lands of the Xandim, riding toward the mountains on winter’s wings . . . Aurian awoke suddenly, shivering, her heart racing. “Stupid!” she told herself briskly. “It was only a dream! Nothing but a dream. Eliseth is dead . . . Isn’t she?”