Maggie Furey - Dhiammara

Chiamh’s eyes opened and he smiled up at her. “I thought I was dead,” he said softly. “I’m glad I’m not. I would have missed you.”

Lifting his arms to the Mage, he embraced her, weakly at first, then with increasing strength. “My dearest friend,” Aurian whispered. “It’s good to have you back.”

“What about me?” said an impatient voice in mind-speech. Aurian turned to see Wolf. For an instant she wondered what to do—and then she knew. “Here, my son.” She put the grail down in front of the shaggy grey form. “Drink.”

As Wolf lapped at the luminescent contents of the grail, the radiance seemed to seep into him, spreading throughout his body, growing stronger and stronger until the glow was too bright to look at. When Aurian could look again, the sturdy, dark-haired lad that she had seen Beyond the Worlds stood there, clad in a shaggy grey cloak. Aurian leapt up to embrace him, only to feel him stiffen in her arms. “Dad,” he cried out in anguish. “He’s dead!” Weeping, Wolf ran to huddle over the ruined corpse that had been Forral’s temporary shell.

Before Aurian could follow to comfort him, the air turned chill, and a dark shadow blotted out the early sun. The Winged Folk scattered with cries of dismay and even the Dragons flapped their great wings and hissed uneasily.—Aurian, fearless, strode to the edge of the roof, the grail held in her outstretched hands. “Here it is,” she called. “I have kept my promise to you, too.”

“Farewell, Lady,” the leading Wraith replied. “May the blessings of the Gods go with you, until we meet again.”

In a dark, thin stream like smoke, the Nihilim poured into the grail—and emerged again, radiant and resplendent, beings of pure light with translucent silver wings. Their cries of gratitude lingered in the air as they circled once around Aurian and vanished, shimmering, into the Worlds Beyond.—Death bowed low to the Mage. “Indeed, Lady,” he said in deepest respect, “of all your feats, this may truly be the greatest. You have my gratitude—and the gratitude of all Mortal creatures everywhere.”

As the seraphs vanished, a misty figure began to form beside the Specter, growing more solid by the moment. “Forral!” Aurian cried.

The swordsman, wearing his true form for one last time, held out his arms to her, and Aurian was amazed to find that she could touch him as though he were made of solid flesh.

“My gift to you,” Death said softly. “A chance to say farewell.”

“I can’t,” Aurian cried. “I can’t lose you again!”

“Yes you can, love,” the swordsman said firmly. “I’m dead anyway, remember?—I’m not supposed to be here. Death was right—it’s time I went on now. Vannor and I will go together. I got to see you one last time, and I got to meet my son, and that’s all I really wanted. You’ll be safe now, and happy. . ..” He took the grail from her hands, and poured the last of the radiance over the bloodstained form of Anvar. Before Aurian’s eyes, the body began to heal.—Forral bowed to Death, and handed him the grail. As Specter vanished, the swordsman embraced his son, and the Mage in his arms. “Anvar is my last gift to you,” he whispered. “Be happy. Safe journey, love—until we meet again.” He vanished like smoke, and Aurian’s arms were empty—but at her feet, Anvar stirred, and opened his blue eyes, and smiled, while unregarded, the body of a hawk fell to the ground nearby.

Zanna was standing on the promontory beyond the fishing settlement, looking out as the rising sun painted a path of rose and gold across a sleek green ocean. She had wakened early, from the strangest dream. Vannor had been standing before her, wreathed in a nimbus of effulgent gold. “I’m just off now, lass,” he’d said, “so I thought I had better come and say goodbye. Forral and I are going together. We’re taking the grail back to Death—but you don’t want to hear about all that. Everything turned out all right in the end.—Eliseth is dead, and Aurian and Anvar have been reunited—oh, and Wolf has turned into a boy at last. Anyway, I’d best be off, love—I’ll miss you. Take care of yourself and my little granddaughter, won’t you? Keep me in your heart, and I’ll never be far away.” Zanna had felt the ghostly imprint of a kiss on her forehead—and then she had awakened. Forral had gone, but the kiss somehow remained.

The Nightrunner wiped the tears from her face and looked out across the ocean.—It had been real—of that she was absolutely certain. “Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered. “Take care of yourself.” She wondered how he had known about his granddaughter—at this point, she had not been sure herself that she carried a child. I wonder if I should break the news to Tarnal yet? she thought.—Out to sea, her eye was caught by the sparkle of sunlight on fountaining spray. Zanna caught her breath. There were whales out there! More whales than she could ever have imagined! Then, coming down from the north, she saw another cluster of the sleek dark shapes—only four or five—with one whale, the biggest, far outstripping the others. The two groups converged in a glorious display, leaping joyfully from the water with tremendous grace; flinging the sea from their great bodies in glittering diamond arcs. Even as Zanna watched, the small group of Leviathan were absorbed into the greater family or their comrades—and then all of them were gone together, vanishing into the golden blaze of sunrise like a dream emerging into morning.—Some days later, Aurian and several of her companions prepared to depart from Dhiammara for good. Most, including the capture of Khazalim, were returning to their homes. Eliizar and Nererii were looking forward to returning to their settlement to start the work of rebuilding their lives. To everyone’s surprise. Raven and Aguila, who had been healed by Aurian, were going back there too. “I never had any luck in Aerillia,” Raven insisted. “Let the priests keep it, if they’re so keen. Besides, I miss Nereni.” She gave her old friend a dazzling smile.

“And we’re going back to the Xandim—Chiamh, Iscalda, and I,” said Shiannath.

“It’s about time someone knocked them into shape. We’ll be near enough to Aurian and Anvar to visit, though.”

Eliizar was standing with his arm around his daughter. “And where will you go?” he asked Aurian and Anvar. Surely not back to the North?”

It took a moment to gain the attention of the Mages, who had spent the last few days surrounded by a dazzling aura of joy. It seemed to their companions that they had barely ceased to touch and embrace one another since the moment of Anvar’s return. When Eliizar repeated his question, Anvar shook his head.

“No—we’ve talked about it, and while there’s still a great deal to be done in the North—the business with the Phaerie, for instance—we’ve decided D’arvan will have to handle that for the present.”

“We still wield the Staff and the Harp, and therefore we have a responsibility for the fate of our world—but first, we want a rest,” Aurian agreed with a smile, “and a chance to be a family. I think we’ve earned that much, after all. There’ll be time enough to deal with the Phaerie and find out what happened to Shia’s folk. Anvar was telling me about a wonderful bay he found once, where the sea is warm and blue, and there’s a lush forest behind, full of fruit and game. . . . We plan to settle down there and let someone else take on the troubles of the world for a while. There are even hills just inland with some caves for Shia to rear her cubs.” She smiled at her friend, who was sitting rubbing heads with Khanu.

“Indeed—you can help me look after them, if you’re so keen,” the cat said privately to the Mage.

Aurian smiled, and looked at Anvar once more, drawing him into her conversation with the cat. “Maybe our children will have a chance to grow up together,” she said.