Maggie Furey - Aurian

The monster—the hideous spider creature—it had hold of her! Aurian struggled wildly in the clutch of the horrid limbs. She fought instinctively, striking out with fists and feet, as Maya had taught her long ago. There was an oddly human-sounding grunt as she connected, and the grip on her body fell away.

“Very nice! He goes to all this trouble to rescue you, and you hit him!”

The voice in her head was reassuringly familiar. “Shia!” Aurian rolled over and looked around dazedly, blinking in the weird red light. She barely had time to recognize Shia and Bohan before Anvar seized her, half lifting her in an embrace that took her breath away.

“Oh Gods, Aurian, it’s so good to see you alive!”

With her head buried in Anvar’s shoulder, the Mage was unable to see his face, but his voice sounded ragged and choked. Aurian tried to answer, but her throat was too parched for speech. Anvar took one arm from around her long enough to rummage in a bundle at his side and come up with a waterskin. He supported her while she drank, rationing her, much to her annoyance, to small sips. She made a grab for the bag as he took it away.

“In a minute.” His voice was firmer now. “You haven’t drunk for about three days. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Days?” Aurian groped in vain to remember. It was hard to read Anvar’s face in the dim red light, but she thought she could see the streak of a tear on his cheek. “Was I ill? Did I dream that awful spider-thing?” She groaned. “I feel as though I’ve been on a three-day drinking bout with Parric.” Her mouth still felt dry, her head was throbbing, her stomach burned, and she had the same unnerving gaps in her memory that were usually the result of too much ale.

“I think you migbi^want this.” Anvar fished her desert robe out of his bundle. Aurian gasped, suddenly conscious of her nudity—and the memories came flooding back of her swim, and what had happened subsequently. Anvar helped her into the robe, and gave her more water and a little flat cake of Nereni’s bread, cradling her in his arms as she ate. She nibbled it slowly, feeling as though she might be sick at any minute, but once it was down it stayed down, and she began to feel better, and ready for more.

As she ate, the Mage pieced together her story. Having been captured by the portal, she had made the same accidental discovery as Anvar—that Magelight triggered the rising of the gemlike conveyance. On reaching the top, however, she had spent a long time trying to find a spell to make it descend, and return her to the others. When her efforts met with no success, she had decided to leave the crystal, hoping to find some other route down. “I got out of it in much the same way as I got in,” she went on. “It sucked me out through its wall—and that was when I met the spider-thing! You’ve no idea what it was like!”

“We do,” Shia assured her grimly. “We met it, too!”

Aurian shuddered. “I couldn’t fight it—did you know it was impervious to magic?”

Anvar shook his head. “I never thought to try.”

“Just as well. It seemed to have the ability to throw the spell right back at the user—I very nearly fried myself before I found that out! Anyway, it grabbed me ...” She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice under control. Anvar hugged her closer, and she gave him a grateful smile. “I was fighting . . . After that, I don’t remember. It only seemed to be a split second before Shia was telling me I’d hit you,” She raised her hand to a lurid bruise on Anvar’s cheekbone. “I hurt you, Anvar. I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Harihn.”

“Oh, Anvar, you haven’t been fighting?” Aurian was dismayed.

“Wait until you hear the whole story.” Assisted by Shia, and with the occasional confirmatory nod from Bohan, Anvar told her what had happened. Aurian interrupted with astonished delight when she discovered that he and Shia could speak to one another, and again to heap bloodcurdling curses on Harihn’s head, when she heard how the Prince had abandoned her friends to die. When her rage had calmed enough to let her hear the rest of the tale, she shuddered to hear of their fight with the monster, and Shia’s near loss in the depths of the abyss.

But when Anvar began to describe their crossing of the invisible bridge, it was too much. “No! Don’t tell me! I’d rather not hear about that bit, if you don’t mind,” she apologized.

When Anvar had finished his tale, Aurian looked at the faces of her companions, utterly moved by their courage and loyalty. “My dearest friends, you’ve been so brave ... I don’t know how to thank you . . .” She ran out of words, and brushed away a tear.

“As long as you’re all right,” Anvar told her, “you and the child.”

Aurian looked at him fondly. “We seem to be unscathed, thanks to you three. The question is, what do we do now? We’ve been trapped here by that turd Harihn, If we don’t find something within these tunnels to help us, we’ll starve. Besides, Anvar ...” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Don’t you realize what this place must be? The crystals, the metal creature immune to magic—it all points to one thing. We’ve found the lost civilization of the Dragonfolk! There must be artifacts here —knowledge, weapons, perhaps even the Sword of Fire itself—that we could use against Miathan!”

Anvar shook his head in exasperation. “You never give up, do you? What if we find more of thosjr spider-monsters? What if there’s worse?”

“After my last experience, do you think I’m not worried about spider-things?” Aurian shrugged. “But to be honest, Anvar, I don’t see any alternative. We certainly can’t go back the way we came. The only way out is through these tunnels.”

Though they all longed for sleep, they decided to press on at once. Food was in short supply, and though the passages of the mountain fastness held little hope for their salvation, there was nothing to be gained in lingering. The only other exit from the long chamber was a huge arched doorway at the far end. A wide ramp sloped in a curve up a broad tunnel whose roof, pointed like the archway, was high above. Shia led the way; the Mages, by unspoken cojisent, followed together, Bohan brought up the rear, his sword drawn. Anvar had returned Aurian’s gear to her, and she was relieved to feel the familiar weight of the sword at her hip once more.

The disquieting red light of the chamber had been replaced by a soft amber glow that emanated from a network of shining veins that webbed the smooth, seamless stone of the passageway. The air whispered softly past their faces without moisture or mustiness, and the walls and floor bore little trace of webs or dust. The irritating hum had faded as they climbed. Aurian found herself relaxing a little. She had not realized how much the high-pitched buzz had bothered her, until it was gone. “You know,” she said to Anvar, “this is like a spiral staircase—only there are no steps. I suppose dragons might have had difficulties with stairs. But if this corridor was built to accommodate them, they must have been even bigger than I thought.”

He nodded glumly. “And more powerful than we thought, if they could create this place, and the metal creature. We should be careful.”

It was easy to lose track of time as the unchanging tunnel wound on and on. After a while, rooms began to appear, leading off from either side. To Aurian’s frustration, some were sealed with great doors of metal or crystal that would yield to neither force nor magic. Other rooms were doorless or open, but whether large or small, all were completely empty, their only illumination coming from the dim stoneglow of the passage that shone through the wide entrances, Shia reported no further signs of magic.