Maggie Furey - Aurian

Though her robes clung stickily to her body, Aurian was wracked by shivers. Her head pounded, and she was dizzy and nauseated, unable to keep down any food and too weak and fevered to heal herself. All she could do was cling desperately to the pommel of her saddle, and try to stay on her horse. By the time they reached the last oasis, Anvar had to lift her down, and she was barely aware that he did so. But as he laid her gently on the ground, the Mage was prevented from sinking into welcome oblivion by a cry that echoed in her mind—a faint, pitiful cry for help. Aurian tried to sit up, brushing feebly at Anvar’s restraining hands, ignoring the pain that lanced through her head. “Shia!” she gasped. “Where’s Shia?”

It took a great deal of determination on Anvar’s part to persuade Yazour to go back and find Shia, but Aurian became so frantic that finally the warrior relented. It was an hour before he returned, with the great cat slung limply across the shoulders of his faltering and terrified horse. In the meantime, Nereni had been sponging the Mage’s fevered body with cool water from the oasis, while Bohan brought her water—as much as she could keep down. Anvar had been pacing back and forth, coming to look at Aurian then striding back to peer out across the dunes, his dusty face furrowed with concern as he cursed himself for not being able to help the Mage, and also for being so worried about her that he had forgotten Shia, He helped Bohan lift the cat down from the trembling horse and laid her by Aurian’s side, stroking the sleek black head now dulled and harsh with dust, hearing the faint rasp of her tortured breathing.

After a moment Shia opened her eyes, their light a dim echo of its former golden glory. Her thought was as nebulous in his mind as a fading wisp of smoke. “Goodbye,”

Anvar clasped her bleeding paws, feeling the spark of life within the great cat flicker, feeling the beating of her great heart beginning to falter. “Goodbye—my friend,” he whispered.

“Goodbye be damned!” Aurian-’s voice cracked across Anvar’s grief like a slap in the face. He dashed the mist of tears from his vision to see her sitting up, her eyes smoldering grimly, her face pale but resolute. Before he could stop her, she had reached across to Shia, linking herself irrevocably fo the great creature,

“No!” Anvar caught the Mage’s limp body as it slipped sideways, freed from the control of the mind that was far away in an unbreakable trance as it fought to keep Shia’s soul within her failing body. Helpless and desperate, he clutched her, unable to reach her, his heart gripped by icy dread. He knew what she was attempting—had she not done the same for him in the slave camp, when she had sought his fleeing spirit and brought it safely home? But this, time she was weakened, exhausted, and ill. And she would have no strength left to return. Frantically, he cast forth his mind as Aurian had taught him, seeking her, trying to find even a slight trace of her passing. But though he searched and searched, he knew that she was lost to him.

“Anvar!” A dim echo, the voice penetrated faintly into his consciousness, pulling him back. A hand was shaking roughly at his shoulders. To his surprise, Anvar saw the western horizon burning with the last traces of sunset light. He’d been gone that long? Fear snagged at his breathing, but then he felt the faint movement of breath in the body that was still clutched in his cramped and aching arms, saw an answering lift of the great cat’s ribs. They still lived, then—and Aurian was still fighting. Yazour let go of his shoulders, squatting before him in the open mouth of the makeshift shelter of blankets that had been rigged over himself, Shia, and the Mage.

“By all the Gods ever spawned, man, I’ve been frantic! I thought we’d lost you all!” Yazour’s face betrayed a mixture of relief, concern, and annoyance. “What happened, Anvar? What can we do? Have you seen the sky? The storms will be upon us. at any time.” He gestured at the western sky that was hazed and fuzzy on the horizon, and shot through with spars of lurid orange light. Anvar’s voice grated in his parched throat, but his words fell strangely calm upon his own ears. “Aurian is linked with Shia—we can’t move them. You’ll have to leave us, Yazour. Take the others and go QQW, make a dash for safety while you still can. Save your own lives.”

“And will you come with us?” Yazour’s voice was very quiet.

Anvar knew there was no hope; he could do nothing now, to help the Mage and Shia. Already they were as good as dead. The sensible thing would be to go with the others, to save himself and the Staff of Earth—and take the fight back to Miathan in Aurian’s name. He knew it all too well—he even knew that the Mage would want him to do so—but he looked down at Aurian’s still form, and remembered his anguish in Dhaimmara, when he thought she had died within the crystal of the spider-creature. He remembered the terror that had pierced him when the great stone had fallen in the tunnel, and how he had flung himself beneath to die with her, rather than be tortured again by her loss. The Mage’s breast still rose and fell, in that shallow parody of life. He knew, better than anyone, the strength of her stubborn will. How could he abandon her while yet she lived? How could he go through the years, knowing that he had left her, helpless, in the desert of a foreign land?

Anvar looked at Yazour, and shook his head. “Don’t be stupid,” he said.

The door was ancient, its thick weathered wood as gray and heavy as a block of stone, the time-blunted carvings on its panels obscured by the weight of years. As Anvar put a hand to it, vague shapes and intertwining patterns seemed to leap out at him, outlined in silvery Magefire—fire that leapt sizzling from his fingers, turning his hand into a blazing torch. Anvar flinched, sickened by the sight of his own bones shining darkly through the incandescent flesh, but he felt no sense of heat or pain. Soundlessly, the door swung open, and he stepped through. As he took his fingers from the panels, the fire in his hand was snuffed out, shrouding his surroundings in shadowy gloom.

Shimmering gray mist coiled around him, cutting off his vision as effectively as a curtain. Then, like a curtain, it parted to reveal a stooped figure whose form was obscured by a hooded gray cloak. The apparition held a staff in one hand, leaning on it in a way that gave the impression of great age. In its other hand a shuttered lantern cast a single, silvery ray upon the white, gleaming-wet pebbles of a path. As the vision turned its head, Anvar caught the intelligent gleam of a piercing dark eye, and the fuzz of a grizzled beard within the shadows of the cowl. In that moment, the old “man seemed as familiar as though Anvar had known him always, yet he could not recall having met him, or anyone like him, in his life. In fact, he realized with a shiver, he could not remember anything. He frowned. How had he come to be here? Where had he come from? As though he could hear Anvar’s confused thoughts, the old man gave him an encouraging smile, and beckoned to him to follow. At first the path led through a narrow, steep-sided cutting. Drooping trees overshadowed the way, forming a tunnel, and the high banks on each side were stacked with rounded mossy boulders and the feathery green fountains of ferns. The air was soft with clinging moisture, and musked with the scents of leaf mold, wild garlic, and wet greenery. Anvar felt the tension in his breast beginning to relax as he took deep breaths. The damp, fragrant air was such a relief after the scorching desert ...

The desert! Anvar stopped dead, straining to catch at the fleeting memory. He’d been in the desert, and— The old man caught his arm, with a warning shake of his head. The very tension of his body implied a desperate urgency. Hurry, he seemed to be saying. No time for such thoughts. He let go of Anvar and lengthened his stride, the faint gleam of his lantern vanishing rapidly in the misty dusk. Anvar, panic-stricken at the thought of losing his only guide in this strange, fey place, hurried to catch up.