Maggie Furey - Aurian

Aurian groaned. “Not royalty again!”

Raven stared at the tall, grim-faced woman who could fight like a demon, and her stomach clenched into a tight, cold knot of fear. Who werejhese horribly big, wingless beings? She had never seen anything like them. What were they doing in this deserted place? What would they do to her? The man with the unnerving, sky-colored eyes grabbed her arm roughly. “Are there any more of you about?” he demanded.

Raven’s mind worked quickly. “Of course!” she snapped haughtily. “Do you think a Princess would be unescorted? Let me go, ere I call my guards to make an end of you!” “She’s lying,” the redheaded woman said. “Tell us the truth!” The man’s grip tightened, making her squirm and gasp with pain.

Raven was inwardly raging, but that stern, ice-blue gaze made her quail. “I am alone,” she confessed. She was unable to stop her tears from com’mg. Yot au mstarvt, she thought she saw his expression soften with pity, then he looked at the woman and his face became grim once more. But it was a chance—if she could only get him on her side . . . Raven gazed up at the man with imploring eyes. “Please don’t let her hurt me again!” The tall woman snorted with disgust. “Listen, you can drop that terrified-little-girl act. It’s not fooling anyone. You’re older than you look, I’ll wager, and I’ve the scars to prove that you’re a menace.”

Raven was furious at the exposure of her ploy. “How dare you! I am a Princess of the Blood Royal!”

“Not here, you’re not,” the woman growled. “You’re our prisoner, and in a lot of trouble. You attacked us first, remember. I still owe you for pitching me off that tower.”

Well, that was true enough, Raven admitted to herself. Yet despite her attack on the woman, these people hadn’t actually harmed her, though they could have killed her at once if they’d wanted. And she was so tired of being alone . . .

“Lady,” she said at last, “I beg pardon for that. I—I saw you coming, and I was afraid. I thought if I surprised you . . .”

To her utter surprise, the woman grinned. “You didn’t do too badly, considering. Why did you slow my fall with your wings, though? If you had dropped me from that height, you could have killed me outright.”

Raven shrugged, making her dark, glossy feathers rustic “I thought if I had a hostage, the others might not hurt me,’

Just then a hulking figure emerged from the shadows.

Raven gasped. And she’d thought the others were big! Behind the wingless man was a fearsome dark shape with flaming eyes. Raven was all too familiar with the savage great cats, who lived on the northern side of her own mountains, and waged a constant war with her folk. She shrieked, and tried to run, but the man pulled her back to his side.

“It’s all right,” Anvar reassured her. “Shia is a friend, and in her own way, she can talk to us.”

“She says that you really are alone, but she’s found a camp of sorts—with some food.” The woman chuckled. “She’s cross because Bohan here wouldn’t let her eat any of it. Seriously, though, is it your camp? We’re all dreadfully hungry.”

“What I have, I will share with you,” Raven offered, anxious to make some gesture of friendship, “I caught some birds, but there was nothing to make a fire. Besides, I was never taught to cook,” she added frankly, “so my hunger is as great as yours.”

The woman caught the man’s eye and shrugged, “Lead on, and our thanks to you,” she said.

They walked through the empty city, the tall woman limping slightly and leaning on the man’s arm for support. Introductions were made, although everyone was too concerned with the thought of food to say much more than that. Raven had set up her camp in a building that consisted of a single large chamber with walls of misty blue crystal. There was no door to close, and no furnishings or signs that there had ever been any, though shelves and niches had been carved into the walls and a pile of assorted gems had been stacked along one side. The chamber’s best asset was a small spring-fed pool in one corner, which absorbed the attention of the thirsty strangers for a considerable time.

Raven produced four good-size birds that she’d caught on the wing, as she had often done at home for mere sport. The strangers took charge of supper with a capability that she envied. The men—Anvar and the huge Bohan—took the fowl outside to clean, while Aurian, the tall woman, scrabbled around in the pile of gems. Raven was mystified. What use would jewels be to her out here? Then all became clear—and her eyes nearly popped out of her head with astonishment. Aurian selected ajarge, flatfish piece of crystal and set it down in the middle of the floor. She sat down cross-legged and held her hands over the stone, her eyes narrowed with concentration. Within minutes, the gem was glowing hot and giving off a warm light that set the walls of their shelter twinkling cozily. Raven stared in utter disbelief, half afraid and almost unable to believe her good fortune. “You are Magefolk?” she whispered.

Aurian nodded briefly, still preoccupied with her task. Raven clutched at her, the words spilling out before she could stop them. She had never intended to go back, but . . . “Will you help me? My people need you desperately!”

Aurian sighed. “Raven, I don’t know if we can. We’re trapped here ourselves—but tell us about it while we eat. It must be serious if it has driven you out here alone.”

Anvar and Bohan returned with supper cleaned and plucked, and the Mages contrived to spit the birds on sword blades and wedge them in position over the fiery gem. “Can I help you heat that thing?” Anvar asked Aurian. She shook her head. “I’m expending very little effort, but the crystal boosts my power. This Dragon-magic has its uses.”

While they ate, Raven told her story. Her people had lived in their isolated mountain fastness for centuries, growing hardy crops in terraced valleys and tending their flocks of hill goats and ground birds. But in the last months, an unnatural, un-seasonal winter had laid waste to their civilization. She told the Mages of sudden, lethal snowstorms, of biting cold that had ruined the land, and the-ascendancy of the evil, power-hungry High Priest. Raven shuddered as she spoke of human sacrifices, of atrocities committed in the name of salvation, of the helplessness and desperation of her mother, the Queen. “Then Blacktalon insisted on taking me as his bride,” she said. “I knew he planned to depose Flamewing and consolidate his hold over the Skyfolk, ruling in my name.”

She described her escape from Aerillia in the storm, and the hardship and suffering of crossing the desert, flying by night from oasis to oasis, exhausted and hungry, but driven onward by fear and desperation. Tears stood in her eyes. “I didn’t want to run away. It was my only hope—I would not have survived Blacktalon’s cruelty for long—but it tore my heart to go. Even at the risk of my life I would return, if I thought I could do something. Could you help us? Please? My people are dying!”

Aurian looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

Anvar both saw and sensed the Mage’s distress, and knew what she must be thinking. Eliseth. Who else could have brought down this unnatural winter? The Winged Folk had fallen victim to the Magefolk’s pursuit of Aurian. An uneasy silence had fallen in the chamber. Abruptly, Aurian thrust the remains of her supper aside. Without a word she hoisted herself up with her staff, and limped out of the chamber. Anvar followed her outside.

Aurian was sitting with her back against the wall of their building, shivering a little in the cool desert night, her eyes fixed blankly on the sparkling heavens. “Go away,” she said, without turning.