Maggie Furey - Aurian

“Well done,” she told the bird. “Oh, very well done!” Swiftwing hopped off the rabbit, and settled into the grass to wait. Aurian sighed as she picked up the dead creature. “Poor little thing,” she murmured, briefly stroking its fur before she stowed it in her bag.

“Doesn’t it bother you, this killing?” the swordsman asked her curiously.

“Of course.” She turned to him, her expression serious and somehow more adult than he had seen it before. “It’s very sad, Forral, but it happens. Swiftwing needs to eat, and so do his mate and babies. Rabbits are rather big for him—that’s why he often stuns them first—but he eats them, and so do we. We only take what we need, and he kills quick and clean, not like snares.” She smiled dreamily at the falcon. “And he’s so beautiful up there . . .” For a moment she was lost for words, but Forral understood, for the swift, fearless flight of the hawk had touched his own heart. “He makes me feel as though I’m up there, flying with him,” Aurian finished softly—then shook herself, and whistled Swiftwing back to her wrist, all business once more. “We’ll need to beat the bushes to bring the rabbits out again—they’re scared now,” she said. “If you thought that was good, wait till you see him with a moving target! How many rabbits did you say you wanted, anyway?”

Forral shook his head in amazement. Aurian never failed to astonish him—and this time, he had learned something from her.

The warm days passed, and soon the time came for the Mage to travel round the villages and farms that lay close to the Valley. Each spring, the Mortals in the nearby countryside welcomed her help as she used her Earth-magic to “bless” their crops and herds, ensuring a good harvest. In return, they supplied her with grain, tools, cloth, and other items that she could not grow or manufacture for herself. This time, she particularly wanted a new glass for Aurian’s window, and some poultry, for her own had all perished in the savage winter storms. The swordsman was horrified to learn that Aurian stayed alone in the Valley while Eilin was away. He was dismayed by this new evidence of the Mage’s neglect; however, both she and Aurian seemed quite happy with the arrangement.

“I don’t want to go,” the child insisted, “I’d miss Swift-wing and the animals. I’m all right here.”

“Of course she is,” Eilin agreed. “She has the wolves to guard her, and if anything should go wrong, Swiftwing or one of the other birds would soon bring me a message.”

Forral sighed, and gave it up. What a foolish, stubborn, independent pair they were. Typical Magefolk! He consoled himself that this year, at least, someone responsible would be around to keep an eye on the child.

After Eilin had set out on her own horse, a white mare that Forral had never seen before since the Mage rarely had time for riding, Forral found that there was enough work in the Valley to keep himself and Aurian very busy. Sometimes they would go hunting with Swiftwing. The goats needed milking and the fish traps that the Mage kept on the borders of the lake had to be regularly cleared and reset. Even worse, the weeds in the garden seemed to be-naaking the most of the Mage’s absence by springing up overnight. Still awed by the magnitude of the task that Eilin had undertaken, Forral felt duty bound to offer what help he could. As well as laboring in the garden, he spent a good deal of time around the tower, working to repair the worst of the winter’s ravages.

Aurian soon grew bored with it all. She would start out helping Forral with the best of intentions, but after a while she inevitably slipped away, supposedly to see her animals. But as time went by, the swordsman noticed that the child was disappearing more and more often, and began to wonder. When asked how she had spent her days, her replies were vague and evasive. Basically an honest child, she was a terrible liar. Inevitably, Forral thought of the day they had met, when he had caught her playing with fireballs in the glade.

The suspicion that she might be doing it again filled Forral with deep concern. He already knew she had inherited Eilin’s Earth-magic. She could communicate with animals, and knew the trick of making young plants thrive. That was no problem. Eilin could supervise her efforts, and there was little she could do with Earth-magic to hurt herself. But Geraint’s skill had been Fire-magic, and the control of raw energy that it required made it the most perilous of disciplines. The swordsman worried. Had the child inherited that, too? Was she one of those rare Mages whose powers encompassed all forms of magic? If so, she would be in grave danger, without proper teaching as would all who came into contact with her.

Forral thought about-ronfiding his suspicions to Eilin on her return, but found himself hesitating. Obsessed with her grief for Geraint, she would never be able to live with a child who had inherited her soulmate’s potentially destructive powers. Just when the relationship between mother and daughter was improving, she would reject Aurian, and that would be tragic. In any case, he had no proof, and there was no point in upsetting matters until he did. He would have to deal with this himself.

The next time Aurian slipped away, Forral followed her, using his tracking skills to stay out of sight. He was afraid that her friends the birds would give him away, but they were too busy feeding their voracious new broods to think of anything else. Once she was away from the tower Aurian called her pony, and Forral, cursing, had to run back to catch his horse. Now mostly idle, the beast had grown fat and frisky, and he had a hard time restraining its exuberance. When he picked up her trail again, the swordsman saw that Aurian had headed off toward the forest beyond the crater’s rim, using a roundabout route. He frowned. She was definitely hiding something. Eventually her trail led to the very clearing where they had first met. Forral, peering through the screening undergrowth, gasped.

Aurian had to concentrate very hard. Six fireballs were the most she had ever juggled at once, and she was finding it hard to keep them all in the air and under control without burning herself. Her face was damp with sweat, and she was tiring quickly. One of the glowing colored balls of flame gave a sudden swerve, heading straight for a tree, and she pulled it back under control with a wrenching effort of will, almost singeing her hair in the process. That was quite enough. With great care she snuffed the bobbing flames in midair and sat down on a fallen tree trunk, feeling exhausted but pleased with herself.

Before her ears had time to register the crashing in the undergrowth, Aurian found herself seized by the shoulders, hauled upright, and spun round to stare into Forral’s face. She gulped, her own face burning with guilt. She had never seen the big man look so angry.

“What were you doing?” he shouted at her. “Say it!” Aurian opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “Say it!” he roared.

“P-playing with fireballs.” Aurian struggled to get the words out.

“And what did I tell you?”

“N-not to.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s very dangerous,” Aurian replied in a small voice, too scared even to cry, and shocked by this transformation from kindly friend to wrathful grown-up.

“Well, you’re about to find out how dangerous it is.” His face grim, Forral sat down on the fallen trunk, put her across his knee, and walloped her until she howled. The spanking was painful enough, but what hurt Aurian more was the fact that she was being punished by her beloved Forral. After what seemed to her to be several lifetimes, he stopped. “You deserved that,” he said harshly, over her wails. “You knew perfectly well that you were doing wrong, but you did it anyway. I thought I could trust you, Aurian. I see that I can’t.” He dumped her on the ground. Aurian buried her face in the leaf litter and sobbed her heart out. When she looked up, he had gone.