Maggie Furey - Aurian

“No.” Anvar sat down beside her. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“Who else should I blame?” There was a thin edge of anger in her voice. “All this started because Forral and I—”

“Don’t be stupid!” Anvar snapped. “Aurian, we’ve been through this. It started because Miathan turned the Caldron to evil. It started because of the blind, arrogant prejudice of the Magefolk toward Mortals! You’ve suffered enough, without tearing yourself up over the Winged Folk.”

“How can you say that?” Aurian flared. “We’re all responsible!” Her eyes hardened. “Yes, even you, Anvar. You brought Forral, raging, into Miathan’s chamber that night, and forced the Archmage to release the Wraiths!”

Anvar turned suddenly cold. “I’ve always wondered if you blamed me for Forral’s death,” he said quietly.

Aurian remained silent, refusing to look at him. Not knowing what else to say, he went back inside with bowed head and heavy steps.

Raven looked up as he entered. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked him anxiously.

Anvar stared at her as though returning from a dream, and collected his scattered thoughts. “No—nothing. She needs some time to think.”

Shia was not fooled. “Should I go?”

He shook his head, “She wants to be alone.”

The light of the crystal was dying. Anvar lay beside it, but its residual heat did nothing to pierce the bitter chill inside him. Why now? he thought. Why, after all this time, should she accuse me? But she had every right. During the months of their journey, he had thrust away the memory of his part in Forral’s death, not wanting to believe it and hoping against hope that Aurian did not. Aurian . . . surely if she blamed him, she must hate him? Anvar tossed restlessly, tormented by guilt and misery. It was hours before he finally fell asleep, but the Mage did not return.

Aurian sat long into the night gazing blindly at the stars and trying to come to terms with her guilt and confusion. Her angry, unguarded outburst to Anvar had horrified her. She hadn’t meant to accuse him—the words had come from nowhere, as the thought had come into her mind. Do I really blame him? she thought. Has this been at the back of my mind all along? Suddenly she was startled out of her thoughts by a glimpse, out of the corner of her eye, of a stealthy movement in the darkness beyond her. The Mage reached quickly for her sword—and caught her breath as a figure emerged from the shadows.

“Forral!” The exclamation froze in Aurian’s throat as he stepped toward her. This pale wraith was not the lusty, living man she had known and loved! His image wavered, oddly translucent and cloaked in an eye-deceiving glimmer. His ghostly face was frowning and sad. Aurian felt herself redden with shame, as she heard his gruff voice in her mind. “That wasn’t very fair to Anvar, was it, love? I taught you better than to waste time dealing out blame. Miathan’s evil is spreading, and that’s no way to deal with it!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered unhappily. The ghostly figure smiled, his expression softening into a wistful, loving look. Beckoning, he began to walk away from her. “Forral, wait!” Aurian pulled herself up on her staff and limped hastily after him, following him into the shadows of the abandoned city.

She couldn’t catch him. No matter how fast Aurian tried to hobble, Portal’s shade kept the same tantalizing distance between them, though he never went out of her sight. At last he stopped, turning toward her, and she realized that they had reached the mysterious cone-shaped edifice that was the center and focus of Dhiammara. The humming power that emanated from the structure seemed to vibrate within her very bones, but she kept her eyes fixed on the beloved figure of Forral. She limped toward him, her hand outstretched, longing to touch him once more.

“Don’t!” The warning was sharp enough to halt her, though Forral’s voice had been gentle. He shook his head, his expression one of deepest sorrow. “You can’t touch me, lass. I’m breaking rules as it is, coming to you like this.” He smiled ruefully. “We were never ones for rules, were we, you and I?”

“But I want to be with you!” Her voice caught on a sob.

“I know. Oh, my dearest love, how I’ve missed you! But I don’t begrudge you your life, and that of our child. Besides, you bear a grave responsibility. The times ahead won’t be easy, love, but I know you’ll manage.” His face shone with pride for her. “You’ve the courage and determination to succeed, you and young Anvar.”

Forral’s words grew gradually fainter as he spoke. His shade seemed to be dissolving, drifting away from her like smoke on the wind. “Don’t leave me!” Aurian cried in anguish, as his image faded.

“I’m being called back.”

His voice was distant now. “Take care of our babe, love . . . Remember ... I love you . . . But I’m gone . . .”

“No!” Aurian flung herself forward to the space where he had stood. “I love you too, Forral,” she whispered. Leaning her head against the cool, tingling wall of the building, she gave way to her heartache, her body shaking with sobs.

Aurian never knew how long she wept there. But it was not long. As her tears fell on the smooth wall of green crystal, the humming began to increase in volume and pitch. The Mage, her thoughts filled with Forral, never noticed—until a door snapped open abruptly in the stone beneath her, pitching her headlong inside.

“Oh!” Aurian sat up, wiped her eyes, and looked around. She was in a wide corridor that had been carved out of the gem. Its interior glowed with a dim green light. The air was stale, and heavy with an oddly spicy scent, but it was freshening rapidly as the cold, thin air of the plateau whispered through the open portal. Once again she felt the living mind within this place, the sense of an alien power that tugged at her, urging her farther within. The Mage resisted, wanting only to remain where she was, to hug the precious memory of her meeting with Forral to her as she might clutch at a dagger driven into her own breast. But the power was persistent, and Forral had told her in no uncertain terms that she had responsibilities.

“Oh, all right,” Aurian muttered ungraciously, groping on the ground for her staff. “But you’ll have to wait until I fix this wretched knee. Whatever you are, I want both legs under me when I meet you!”

The Healing was surprisingly easy, and the Mage could have sworn that the mysterious power was actively helping her. Whether it was true or not, it reassured her. She stood up, and despite the growing sense of awe that this strange place engendered, she crept forward into the depths of the building.

Once again the corridor wound in an ever-climbing spiral. I’m getting sick of this, Aurian thought. You’d think that once in a while they might vary the design! Her smile at her own temerity faded abruptly as the passage opened into an airy, circular chamber: a dead end. The light was brighter now through the green crystal walls, and she suspected that dawn must be breaking outside. The floor of the empty hall glittered in the growing illumination, and the Mage saw that it was inlaid with a delicate mosaic of gold in an intricate whorled pattern that led both her eyes and her feet to a great sunburst shape in the center of the room. As Aurian stepped onto it there was a sharp, deafening concussion like a clap of thunder. She recoiled, throwing up an arm to shield her eyes as a blinding beam of sunlight, focused by some hidden aperture in the domed ceiling, shot down to strike her in a blaze of gold.

“Aurian has gone!” Shia pawed roughly at Anvar, her eyes aflame. “What happened between you last night, human?”

Anvar came abruptly awake. “Gods, we have to find her! After last night, there’s no telling what she’ll do!”