As the barge approached the jetty at the site of the summer palace, Aurian could see for herself how badly the slaves were abused, and how much they suffered. Her throat constricted with fear. Surely Anvar could never have survived this? Why, oh why had she ever left him? Her knuckles tightened, the nails of her clenched fingers digging into the soft wood of the barge’s rail.
When they were safely moored, Bohan carried the Mage ashore and set her down on the dusty ground while Harihn sent for the Slavemaster. They waited. Aurian was in a fever of impatience. Shia, to her disgust, had been made to stay behind, but Harihn had brought his surgeon with them. The little man was frowning, his lips pursed in disapproval at what he saw. When Aurian caught his eye, he responded with a slight shake of his head. “Oh, please,” she began to pray, even though she knew now that the Gods she had grown up with had only been Magefolk like herself. “Please . . .”
The Slavemaster duly arrived. Recognizing his Prince with a start, he dropped to the ground, quaking all over. Harihn hastily summoned him to rise and drew him to one side, out of earshot. Their discussion seemed interminable to Aurian. Though she was unable to hear, she could see the Slavemaster spreading his hands in denial and shaking his head vehemently. At last Harihn tired of the argument, and snapped his fingers. Immediately two grim-faced palace guards, armed with great curved scimitars, climbed out of the barge and positioned themselves on either side of the Slavemaster with drawn blades.
The Slavemaster sank to his knees, pleading. Pointing! Aurian turned her eyes in the same direction. The slave compound.
Harihn returned to her, his expression grim. “Anvar is here,” he said. “Bohan will take you to him at once, for the news is grave. The Slavemaster says he is dying.”
The stench in the compound was overwhelming. Bohan set Aurian down beside the solitary occupant, who was huddled on the far side, in the scant shade afforded by the wooden palisade. Aurian gasped. Anvar was scarcely recognizable; his reddened skin was peeling and blistered, his lips cracked, his body covered in bruises and sores beneath the sweat and grime. He barely breathed. Aurian took her arm out of its sling and pulled his head onto her lap, wiping the dust from his face with the trailing sleeve of her robe. Her vision blurred with tears. “Quick!” she snapped at Bohan. “Fetch some water!” The eunuch hurried off, and Aurian beckoned the surgeon over.
His face was grave as he made his examination. “This man is dying,” he said flatly.
“Surely you can do something?” Aurian pleaded. For the first time, the surgeon’s professional mask slipped. He laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Lady, I can do nothing—only end his suffering and speed him on his way. It would be by far the kindest thing.”
“Damned if you will!” Her eyes blazed with such fury that the surgeon threw himself flat on the ground in terror. “Get out of here!” Aurian spat.
As the little man scrambled away, she reached forward and took Anvar’s scarred hands in her own. As her tears fell on his face, Aurian’s heart was wrenched by a stab of excruciating memory. She had been through this exact experience before— when Forral died! Her indrawn breath was a sharp hiss. “Curse you, Anvar, don’t die on me, too! I can’t face this again! I won’t let you die!”
She gripped Anvar’s hands in an iron grasp, as though she could drag him back to life by main force. Desperately she fought to access her power—to reach himv to Heal him—but her will slipped away like water trickling through her fingers, drawn into the dead gray vortex that was the power of the bracelets.
Aurian gritted her teeth against despair. “No,” she
But the harder she tried, the more she felt herself weakening as her power poured into the bracelets. Her vision darkened, her awareness of this foul place and the sun’s merciless heat slipped away until her consciousness hung, it seemed, by a single thread of will. But that thread was made of adamant. She struggled on, down a tunnel of endless blackness, refusing to give in.
A gentle touch on Aurian’s shoulder snapped her back. She found herself slumped, faint and dizzy, over Anvar’s motionless form, her mind reeling from the shock of the sudden transition. She could no longer feel him breathing. No! It couldn’t be over! Bohan swam into focus, kneeling beside her on the filthy ground, a jug of water beside him. With a gentle finger he touched the tears on Aurian’s face, his own eyes brimming with sympathy. And something clicked in the Mage’s mind. She remembered the Arena—remembered drawing strength from the crowd around her. “Bohan,” she whispered, “will you help me?”
The giant hesitated for a moment, fear in his eyes. Then he nodded. “Put your hands on mine,” Aurian told him. He did as he was ordered, his great hands engulfing both those of the Mage and Anvar. Aurian took a deep breath. “Good. Now stay absolutely still and relax. Lend me your strength, Bohan, to save Anvar’s life.”
Aurian concentrated—concentrated as she had never done before, straining to breach the barrier that was the power of the bracelets. Then it came. Like a floodgate opening, Bohan’s strength flowed into her, supplementing her own. Through a reddish haze, she saw the rust-colored stones of the bracelets pulse and glow like tiny embers as they sated themselves on her magic. A scorching heat ate at her wrists, but she paid no heed. With a sudden shock, she realized that the bracelets stored power—not just her own, but the powers of all the Mages who had borne them before her. If she could access that power, even for an instant, she could break down the very walls of Death itself! But how to release it—what was the key? Come on, Aurian urged herself. Think! Anvar’s life depends on it! She found her thoughts turning to him, then, reaching for the essence of the man. Anvm-.* Those piercing blue eyes that held his
The memory of that smile went like an arrow to her heart, and her heart turned over in her breast ...
And Aurian’s vision was suddenly blocked by a vast, darkly shrouded form that loomed over her, towering into the sky. “Aaaah,” it said, its voice a deep, dry, rustling whisper like leaves turning in a midnight graveyard—like worms that seemed to eat into her very soul. “So, this time you think to cheat me?”
Aurian swallowed hard, gathering her courage to answer back—to defy Death itself. And from somewhere the courage came. “If that’s what it takes,” she replied. “You have had enough from me and mine. Seek your prey elsewhere!”
Death laughed like a blade drawn up Aurian’s spine. “A fool you are, to believe that matters are so simple. Yet in your ignorance you have found the only coin which will permit you to bargain with me. Many before you have tried to make such a bargain, but I warn you that my price is high—and both of you will pay it, ere we meet again.” The Specter loomed forward threateningly, and Aurian bit her lip, steeling herself not to shrink away from His overwhelming Presence.
“You have courage, Lady.” This time the voice held an undertone of respect. “And for all my evil reputation, never believe that Death is merciless. Far from it. If your coin—the coin that you and this man both possess—is good, and not counterfeit, you may yet have the best of the bargain. Remember that, when you come to pay my price!”
The figure disappeared-in a blinding flash of red light. The power within the bracelets, suddenly released, coursed through Aurian—through Bohan, throwing him backward—then through Anvar. Aurian felt her soul rushing outward to meet the soul of her companion—to enfold it safely, and bring him home again.
Aurian blinked, baffled for a moment to find herself back in the squalor of the slave compound. Then she saw that her wrists were bare. The bracelets had crumbled away to fine, powdery ash that was already dissipating as she watched.
Anvar stirred beneath the Mage’s hands, his brilliant blue eyes opening to meet her own. All traces of his hurts had vanished. Later, Aurian would realize that in that flash, her own hurts had also been healed, but now she was simply consumed with relief, and gratitude, and wonder for the miracle that her own indomitable will had wrought.