Maggie Furey - Aurian

“Indeed they do—and if you had told me they were so pretty, Eliizar, I would have been climbing those very mountains even now, in search of them!”

Raven blushed crimson, and Anvar, despite his troubles, had to smile.

“I wish I had come sooner,” Yazour was saying, “but I had my oath of loyalty . . .” He shook his head sadly, “It was a difficult decision to make, but I was so sickened by what the Khisal had done— Well, in the end I could stand it no longer. I knew I had to come back for you. I persuaded the guard to turn a blind eye while I slipped away—I knocked the man out, to spare him Harihn’s wrath when my escape was discovered—and traveled back as quickly as I could.”

“There’s no chance of the Prince following you?” Aurian’s voice was sharp with concern.

Yazour shook his head, his face gone suddenly bleak. “Even Harihn is not that stupid—he’ll save his own hide. You see, we are in grave danger, my Lady. The weather has changed out of season, and we must leave first thing tomorrow night and cross the desert as quickly as we can. It will be a difficult crossing— we are ill equipped with what little I could bring—but we must make all haste, for our lives’ sake. The sandstorms will be upon us at any time, and if we cannot reach safety before they arrive . . .”

This had to be Eliseth’s work! Anvar clenched his fists. The Magefolk had absolutely no concern for the innocent lives that might be—had already been—lost in the process of Aurian’s destruction! And it only served to heighten his concern over Aurian. What would she be capable of, now that she wielded this new power? He glanced at her as she sat, intently discussing plans with Yazour. What had happened to the trust they shared? Why had she lied?

There was no opportunity, in the excitement of Yazour’s return, for Anvar to speak to the Mage, but at last, after dawn had broken, everyone lay down to rest in preparation for the journey ahead. Aurian had been avoiding him all night, and now she chose to lie down on the other side of their group beside Shia. Anvar found himself missing her presence by his side, and cursed himself Jfor a fool. But though he wanted to stay awake in order to tackle her in private about the discrepancies in her story, his eyes refused to stay open, and before long he was fast asleep.

Some inner prompting awakened Anvar. Some vague, unconnected feeling of distress drew him out of sleep while the bright midday sunlight still reflected through the mouth of the cave. He opened his eyes and sat up, and saw that Aurian was missing. The Mage was not far away. Anvar found her seated alone by the pool, wracked with sobbing, the knuckles of one hand pressed to her mouth as she wept with the brokenhearted abandon of a hurt child. Concern and pity overwhelmed him, and in that moment Anvar knew that whatever she had become, whatever she might do with her new and awesome power, he could not help but love her.

Aurian, lost in her misery, barely reacted to Anvar’s presence as he sat beside her. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, not knowing how to comfort her. “It’s all right—I’m here.”

“What if you are—you think I’m a liar!”

Anvar recoiled from the venom in Aurian’s voice. Aware of her raw emotions, he forced himself to sound calm. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong about you. You’ve been proving me wrong ever since we met, I’m glad to say.” She looked at him then, a pleading look that went to his heart like a dagger. He tried to gather her into his arms, but she pushed him away.

“The dragon,” she began shakily, all in a rush, without looking at him, “you wanted to know about the dragon. Well, he’s dead. I killed him—as I destroyed the city.” Anvar forced himself to remain silent, knowing better than to interrupt her now that she had started to speak.

Aurian was struggling to keep her voice under control. “The city, Anvar, it wasn’t there at all. What we saw—what we experienced—was the distant past. When the Dragonfolk left Dhiammara they destroyed it, but locked it in time, in the instant of its destruction—until the wielder of the Sword should come. Once that happened, the spell was freed and the city began to collapse.” Her voice choked on a sob. “I wanted to help the dragon. I wanted to take him out of time again, but he wouldn’t let me. He said he had chosen to stay behind, and now that I had come, his task was done.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “He wasn’t lovable, Anvar, he was arrogant and sly and ill-tempered, but . . . Oh, he was beautiful and clever—and he spoke in music and light! He had waited so long, and for all we know, he could have been the last of his kind, and it was my fault . . .” Aurian began to cry again, hiding her face in her hands. “I never even asked him his name . . .”

“Hush, silly.” Anvar stroked the Mage’s hair. He was grieved by her grief but at the same time he felt almost lightheaded with relief. How could this woman, who could mourn the death of beauty and courage and self-sacrifice, turn to evil? “It wasn’t your fault,” he comforted her. “You didn’t choose to be the one he was waiting for. This path was set out for you, for all of us. The drago^ was right, Aurian. He died centuries before our time. What you saw was a ghost, if you like—in a city of ghosts.”

With a half-articulated curse Aurian turned to stare at him, her eyes wild and wide, one hand held up before her mouth. “How did you know about that?”

“Whatever it is, I don’t. Do you want to tell me?”

“I don’t want to! You’ll think I’m lying again!”

“Look, I was wrong—”

Aurian hushed him with a brusque motion of her hand. “This power we’re dealing with—well, you were right to be concerned. The temptation to fall into evil as Miathan did is great, and we must guard each other constantly. That’s why I should have told you everything. It’s just that—I couldn’t, before. It hurt too much. But . . .” In a low, shaking voice, she told him of her meeting with the specter of Forral, and how it led her to the green tower.

Anvar was speechless with dismay. Portal’s ghost, haunting them—watching them. He shuddered, not wanting to accept this, not wanting to believe . . . Somehow he found his voice. “Aurian, forgive me, but are you sure you didn’t imagine this?” “How could I, you ass? Forral led me to the tower! How else could I have found it so quickly? I knew you wouldn’t believe me!”

“I do believe you—and I’m sorry I doubted you before.” He swallowed hard. “I wish I hadn’t made you tell me, that’s all. It scares me, Aurian.”

“After what I said to yt»u the night I saw Forral—” Aurian looked away from him, twisting at the corner of the blanket.

“That has nothing to do with it—”

“Anvar,” she interrupted him determinedly, “I owe you an apology for that. We all played our parts in that terrible business—you, me, Forral himself—though it hurts to admit it. But I truly don’t hold you responsible for his death, and neither does he—I know that now. What else could you have done? You couldn’t have fought the Archmage on your own! The way Forral reacted—and Miathan—that wasn’t your fault! You were trying to help!”

Anvar sighed. “I only wish I could so easily exonerate myself for what I did that night.”

“Is that why you came with me? Guilt?” Her voice was sharp. Anvar ran his ringers distractedly through his hair, not wanting to continue, but somehow compelled to answer her question. “At first it was—guilt and fear, to be frank. Later, after you saved me in the slave camp, I told myself it was loyalty and gratitude.” He looked into the Mage’s eyes. “But I was wrong. Now I want nothing else but to be with you, to take care of you and the child.”