Maggie Furey - Aurian

“Well, you certainly played your part successfully. The poor child was almost terrified beyond functioning! But her power, Eliseth! It was incredible in one so young!”

“Just what are your plans for her?” Eliseth’s voice turned sharp. “You’re training her yourself—does that mean you have her in mind to succeed you?”

Miathan chuckled. “So that’s what this nocturnal visit is about, I might have guessed. Well, you can relax, my dear. I have no plans to appoint a successor just yet—in feet I may never appoint one.”

“What? But—but the maximum tenure for the position is two hundred years! It always has been,”

“Traditionally, yes. But traditions may be put aside. I enjoy being Archmage, and besides, who would succeed me? Though you and Bragar have ambitions in that direction—”

“Bragar?” Eliseth gasped.

Miathan laughed. “How naive you are! Did you think you had tamed him with the lure of your body? It failed to work on me—what made you think it would succeed any better with him? It’s been most entertaining to watch the two of you maneuvering and plotting around each other, but I’m well ahead of you both in the game of poweT, Y^u’d do better to remain on my side, my dear. One day I plan to rule the world, and there will be power and wealth to spare for my loyal supporters,” Miathan’s expression became grim. “Don’t think of crossing me, Eliseth, I’m more than a match for you alone, but now you’ll have Aurian to deal with, too. You’ve trapped yourself nicely there, with this plan of ours. Aurian already hates you— and now the child is mine.”

“So that’s how you do it!” Aurian ran her fingers along the racks of scrolls, and the field of magic, marked by an aura of glittering blue Magelight, shimmered at her touch. Aurian’s face was alight with enthusiasm, and Finbarr marveled again at the change that six years had wrought in the young Mage. At twenty, she had blossomed into a tall, slender young woman. Her mane of glowing, dark red hair was the same, but her face had matured into the sculpted planes and angles that reminded him so strongly of her father. With that nose, she would never be called pretty, but her features had a strong, stark, compelling beauty that was all her own. And her manner had changed radically from the cowed and nervous child he had first known. Now she was happy, confident, and glowing—her powers increasing by the day—and an absolute sink for knowledge. Miathan had done well with her. Almost too well, Finbarr sometimes thought.

“Finbarr, are you listening?”

“What? Yes, of course . . . What were you saying?”

Aurian gave a long-suffering sigh, but she was smiling. “I asked you if this preserving spell you use on the old documents actually takes them out of time in some way?”

Finbarr was startled. “Why yes, I suppose it does. I never really thought of it that wajs but the idea would make sense. I found the spell in an archaic scroll written by Barothas—you know, that ancient historian obsessed with proving the existence of the lost Dragonfolk. He mentions several earlier references—alas, now lost to us—that quote their ability to manipulate time, not to mention other dimensions. Indeed, your poor father used his notes in that tragic experiment to move from world to world. Of course, to manipulate space, as opposed to time, one would—”

“Good gracious, Finbarr,” Have you never considered the implications of this?”

“What implications?” The Archivist, jolted from the realms of scholarly discourse, felt the first stirrings of alarm.

Aurian frowned. “Well, I don’t know exactly. But I’m sure I could think of a few things.” Her voice took on a wheedling note. “Finbarr, would you teach me that spell?”

Finbarr gave the young Mage a severe look. Her face was a picture of innocence, but he was not fooled—he knew Aurian far too well. “If by that you mean will I let you see the scroll, the answer is absolutely not. After what happened to Geraint, I locked it safely away, and there it stays. It may console you to know, however, that you are not the only one forbidden such knowledge—I decided long ago that Dragon magic is too dangerous for the Magefolk to tamper with. I deeply regret not burning the scroll when first I found it—yet even now, knowing the damage it can wreak, I cannot bring myself to destroy part of our history. No one but ourselves, and possibly your mother, knows of its existence—and Aurian, I put you on your honor not to say a word of it to a single soul, not even the Archmage.” He took her hands in his own. “Have I your promise?”

“Of course you do!” Aurian assured him. “On condition,” she added craftily, “that you teach me the time spell!”

The Archivist hesitated, racking his brains for a means of escape. “You must check with Miathan first,” he said at last. “He’s in charge of your training, and your schedule is far too crowded as it is.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Aurian said. “I can make the extra time. In fact, if you show me this spell, I may find a way of doing exactly that.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. It took Finbarr a moment to grasp her meaning, and when he did his blood went cold. “Aurian! Don’t you dare even contemplate playing around with time! Have you any notion of how dangerous that could be? The Gods only know what damage you might do!”

Aurian patted his arm. “It’s all right, Finbarr. I was only teasing.” But her eyes remained thoughtful.

“Listen,” Finbarr said, hoping to change the subject. “Meiriel and I would like you to come to supper with us tonight. She says she never sees you these days, because you’re so busy.”

Aurian’s face fell. “Oh, I can’t tonight. I need to get busy ith these books on Weather-magic you’ve found for me. iathan has been helpjgg me, but Eliseth is the specialist, and since she’s so reluctant to teach me, I have to pick up the theory where I can. If only I could get into that blasted dome and practice! But she always has some excuse. It’s so frustrating^’ She banged her fist on the table.

Finbarr blinked. “I didn’t know you had actually started on Weather-magic,” he said.

“Well, I needed something to fill my time when I stopped studying Fire-magic with Bragar.”

The Archivist frowned. “Yes, I’d heard about that. My dear child, do you not think it was unwise to quarrel with Bragar?”

“Meaning that you do, I suppose?” Aurian scowled. “Bra-gar is an ass! He thinks he’s such an expert, but he barely knows the first thing about Fire-magic! I had learned everything that I could possibly learn from him, and if he didn’t like it when I told him so, that’s his hard luck!”

“As I heard it, you were tactless in the extreme,” Finbarr admonished her, “and I advise you to apologize. Mark my words, Aurian, Bragar will make you a bad enemy.”

Aurian shrugged. “I don’t have time to be soothing Bra-gar’s sulks. He’ll get over it. Finbarr, please will you teach me that spell?”

“Aurian, don’t you think you have enough on your plate? You work all the hours the Gods send. If you’re not too busy to eat, you forget—and I’ve seen that light burning in your rooms all night! Don’t you think you should make time for a little recreation? Or even sleep occasionally, for goodness’ sake?”

“I’m all right.” Aurian’s expression grew serious. “Finbarr, I want to make Miathan proud of me. He’s been so good to me —like the father I never knew. The only way I can repay^him is to become the best Mage that ever lived—and I will, you’ll see.” Her jaw tightened in the stubborn expression that Finbarr, not to mention everyone else in the Academy from the servants to the Archmage, knew only too well by now.