Maggie Furey - Dhiammara

“I’ll get inside the bugger,” Grince muttered, sliding a slender dagger into one of the latches. “I never saw a lock that could beat me yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” Forral told him. “We want to be in there before Eliseth thinks to come back this way....”

Suddenly Aurian’s hawk took off from her shoulder and flew round her head in circles, screeching with excitement. “Look The Mage pointed upward. “They did it! The cats and the Xandim have freed the slaves!” In the sky above, the air was full of winged figures, swooping and swerving through the low storm clouds as they fought with savage ferocity. Behind her, from Grince, came the sounds of clicking, scraping, and swearing. She realized that now the slaves had been freed, Shia would be bringing folk up in the crystal contrivance that emerged within the emerald tower—and the tower had better be open. “Grince,” she said, “do you think you’ll be ...”

“Got it!” the thief grunted. There was one last click, and the door swung open.

“Good man!” Aurian clapped him on the back.

Grince grinned up at her. “Told you you’d need me, didn’t I?” he said.—The spiral corridor within the tower still glowed with its faint green light, and Aurian was assailed by a powerful memory. She turned back to Forral and took his hand. “Do you remember this place?” she said softly. “You came back to me and led me here....”

“Of course I remember,” the swordsman said with a catch in his voice. “Gods, but it was good to see you again! I got into dreadful trouble with Death over that escapade—” He squeezed her hand. “It was worth it, though.”

They rounded a curve of the spiral to discover that the crystal contrivance had already disgorged the cats, Iscalda, and Eliizar. With a whoop of delight, Aurian hugged Eliizar. “Where’s my daughter?” the swordmaster asked her urgently.

“She’s safe, don’t worry. She’s in one of the buildings, and she’s guarded.”

She turned to Iscalda. “Just keep them coming while we search this building.”

“We can’t.” Shia looked glum. “It’s jammed. I remember, it was never the same after the earthquake—well, this is all of us you’re going to get.”

“Well, we’ll have to manage,” Aurian said. “We’d better start by searching the building in any case.” The Mage was absolutely certain that Eliseth would have locked up the sword and the grail in this place—but after a fruitless search of the emerald tower, she was forced to admit she was wrong. Standing in the midst of the sunburst chamber, the heart of the tower, Aurian gave herself up to some serious swearing. If the Artifacts were not here, then where were they? And more to the point—where was Eliseth?

Eliseth ran through the streets of Dhiammara, seeking the elusive figure of her enemy. It was difficult to concentrate—she was viewing the scene through multiple vision as she switched from one of her puppets to the other, and back to her own sight once more. To her relief, she had found Vannor at last, and what was more, had found her access to his mind unblocked. She had sent him out into the city in search of Aurian too.

After a long and fruitless search, she grew weary and impatient. Furthermore, a glance up at the skies showed her that Sunfeather’s Skyfolk were finding themselves no match for the ferocity of Petrel and the colonists of Eyrie. It was time to bring matters to a head before she lost the advantage—if she could not find her enemy, it was time to lure Aurian to her. Reaching out with her mind, she contacted Bern, who was safely hidden in a nearby building.—Manipulating him deftly, she planted orders in his mind to bring the Artifacts to the platform on top of the city’s highest tower.

“Aurian! Eliseth cried, augmenting her voice with magic so that it echoed throughout the whole of the Dragon City. “I grow weary of this game of cat and mouse! If you wish to challenge me, you will find me on top of the highest tower.” There was no answer—not that she had really expected one. Hurrying, the Magewoman turned her steps toward the tower.

When Eliseth reached the top, she found Bern already there, his chest heaving from the climb. The grail and the Sword lay on the stone at his feet.—Good—that was fine. Now, what was Vannor up to....

Even as she slid into his mind, he found the Mage.

Vannor rushed through the streets, baffled and bewildered. His mind kept fading in and out and there were alarming gaps in his memory. Every so often he would blink, it seemed, and find himself in a different street entirely.—There was only one imperative in his mind that overrode all his confusion.—Find Aurian—that was all he knew. He made for the sparkling green tower—and suddenly there she was.

“Vannor?” Aurian stepped forward. She was frowning. “What are you doing here?—You’re supposed to be looking after those children. ...”

And then Eliseth slid into Vannor’s mind, and she drew his sword and struck at the Mage. The blade bit into Aurian’s neck and she went down in a pool of blood. There came an anguished cry, and Eliseth looked up through Vannor’s eyes and saw Aurian coming round the corner, sword in hand, her eyes ablaze with rage and grief. The Weather-Mage looked down again, and bleeding in the street was the Xandim creature that Vannor knew as the Windeye. Then Aurian’s sword flashed down, and Vannor saw no more.

Aurian stared in horror at the two men. Then she flung herself down beside Chiamh’s body, taking in the mortal wound at a glance. Vannor’s clumsy blow had meant to behead him, but instead had hacked a great gash where his neck joined his shoulder, through which his lifeblood pumped with each beat of his faltering heart. There was no time to heal such a dreadful wound—he would be dead long before she could finish, and besides, she had to find Eliseth.—Drawing on the power of the Staff, she took the Windeye out of time—and poor Vannor too, though she was fairly sure she had killed him. So he had been the spy all along—but it had been Eliseth who had looked out of his eyes when he delivered the death blow. Aurian had struck him down in anger and the need to be rid of Eliseth’s puppet, but Vannor had been her friend. Gently, she reached out to touch his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her throat tight with grief, “but I know you wouldn’t want to be her slave.”

There was no time for more. Now, it was imperative she find the grail—for the sake of both Chiamh and his killer.

Aurian’s companions stood around her, stunned and horrified at what had just happened. “Chiamh was my decoy—he projected an illusion of himself as me,” she explained quickly. “I told the idiot it was dangerous. . . .” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard. “Somehow, Eliseth was controlling Vannor. ...”

She shrugged. Explanations would have to wait. “And now I’m going to have it out with her.” She headed off toward the tower, then paused. “The rest of you stay here,” she said. “And I mean it.”

Shia looked at Forral. “Do you think she means us?”

“No, she couldn’t possibly.”

“That’s what I thought.” Together, they set off after the Mage.

“All right, you two.” Aurian spoke without even glancing backward. “I knew you wouldn’t take any notice.”

Around her head, the hawk still swooped and hovered, plainly not taking any notice either.

“Wait, wait!” Iscalda came running up behind the Mage. “This is madness! Why climb all the way up there when Eliseth is expecting that? I’ll take you, Aurian. We’ll fly.”

Quickly, Iscalda changed to her equine shape of a white mare. The Mage scrambled up onto her back, drawing on the powers of the talisman to find the paths upon the wind. Up they went, climbing toward the spiral tower and the tall, silver-haired figure that stood on top.