The sight of Aurian’s pale, lifeless, face was a knife through Anvar’s heart, but he steeled himself to look.
A minute passed, and another. He stiffened. Had he imagined it? Another minute. He saw it again, the slightest lift of her breast, almost imperceptible—but definitely there! “Dear Gods,” he whispered. “Shia, you’re right! You’re right!” Wild with joy, he hugged the great cat.
“Of course,” Shia told him smugly. “Cats are wise, Anvar. The other remains were very old—perhaps they starved, or died from their injuries. But, we still have a problem. How do we get her out?”
How indeed? An hour later, Anvar was ready to scream with frustration. They had hacked at the crystal, battered it with the hilts of their_swords, and in Shia’s case, thrown herself on it with teeth and claws. It shrugged off their efforts, remaining unscathed and utterly impervious. Anvar stepped back, panting, and scowled at the unyielding gem. “This is no good,” he said. “It’s absolutely unbreakable—yet the creature has put her inside. It must open somehow. Shia, do you feel magic here?”
The cat had flopped to the ground, despondent. “I feel something,” she said, “but different—not like a spell.” She scraped the smooth stone floor with her claws, searching for the right words. “It feels as though the crystal is magic, but it doesn’t do magic, if you can understand that.”
Anvar couldn’t—and he was afraid to try any of the spells from his limited repertoire lest he trigger something in his ignorance that might harm the Mage within. He ran his hands over the smooth walls of the gem, racking his brains for a way out of their difficulties—and pulled back with an oath as his fingers caught on a sharp edge. “Bohan, did you manage to knock a piece out of this?”
The eunuch shook his head emphatically. Sucking his bleeding fingers, Anvar investigated the place. It was high up around the side of the crystal, but he could see nothing to mar the flawless surface. Then a smear of blood led his eyes to the spot. He felt again, more carefully this time, and found a hollow. A place where a single facet was missing, its absence concealed by the internal reflections of the gem. Anvar frowned. “There’s a perfect piece missing. I wonder . . .” “A key?” Shia was quick to follow his thought. “If it is, we must find it, and quickly. Who knows how long Aurian can stay alive in there?” Anvar froze as a dreadful thought occurred to him. “What if the creature had it?”
“One way to find out. Stop fearing the worst—and search!” Shia was away, quartering the chamber.
It was Bohan who finally found the missing piece, tucked behind the crystal in a niche in the wall. Anvar snatched it from his hand. It was bigger than his fist and pointed at its inner end, its smooth broad facets catching the light along their edges. Holding his breath, he reached up and pushed it into the hollow, turning it to fit. It settled into place with a click—and Anvar stepped hastily back as the gem flared with a dazzling white light that sank slowly away to leave the crystal transparent, all traces of its former milkiness gone. Distorted, broken reflections of Aurian’s body could be seen within—then a crack snaked down the front of the gem. It opened down its length like a hinged shell, unfolding into two hollowed segments with thick walls. Anvar rushed to catch the Mage as she slid out of the space within—and found he had hold of a demon.
The monster—the hideous spider creature—it had hold of her! Aurian struggled wildly in the clutch of the horrid limbs. She fought instinctively, striking out with fists and feet, as Maya had taught her long ago. There was an oddly human-sounding grunt as she connected, and the grip on her body fell away.
“Very nice! He goes to all this trouble to rescue you, and you hit him!”
The voice in her head was reassuringly familiar. “Shia!” Aurian rolled over and looked around dazedly, blinking in the weird red light. She barely had time to recognize Shia and Bohan before Anvar seized her, half lifting her in an embrace that took her breath away.
“Oh Gods, Aurian, it’s so good to see you alive!”
With her head buried in Anvar’s shoulder, the Mage was unable to see his face, but his voice sounded ragged and choked. Aurian tried to answer, but her throat was too parched for speech. Anvar took one arm from around her long enough to rummage in a bundle at his side and come up with a waterskin. He supported her while she drank, rationing her, much to her annoyance, to small sips. She made a grab for the bag as he took it away.
“In a minute.” His voice was firmer now. “You haven’t drunk for about three days. You’ll make yourself sick.”
“Days?” Aurian groped in vain to remember. It was hard to read Anvar’s face in the dim red light, but she thought she could see the streak of a tear on his cheek. “Was I ill? Did I dream that awful spider-thing?” She groaned. “I feel as though I’ve been on a three-day drinking bout with Parric.” Her mouth still felt dry, her head was throbbing, her stomach burned, and she had the same unnerving gaps in her memory that were usually the result of too much ale.
“I think you migbi^want this.” Anvar fished her desert robe out of his bundle. Aurian gasped, suddenly conscious of her nudity—and the memories came flooding back of her swim, and what had happened subsequently. Anvar helped her into the robe, and gave her more water and a little flat cake of Nereni’s bread, cradling her in his arms as she ate. She nibbled it slowly, feeling as though she might be sick at any minute, but once it was down it stayed down, and she began to feel better, and ready for more.
As she ate, the Mage pieced together her story. Having been captured by the portal, she had made the same accidental discovery as Anvar—that Magelight triggered the rising of the gemlike conveyance. On reaching the top, however, she had spent a long time trying to find a spell to make it descend, and return her to the others. When her efforts met with no success, she had decided to leave the crystal, hoping to find some other route down. “I got out of it in much the same way as I got in,” she went on. “It sucked me out through its wall—and that was when I met the spider-thing! You’ve no idea what it was like!”
“We do,” Shia assured her grimly. “We met it, too!”
Aurian shuddered. “I couldn’t fight it—did you know it was impervious to magic?”
Anvar shook his head. “I never thought to try.”
“Just as well. It seemed to have the ability to throw the spell right back at the user—I very nearly fried myself before I found that out! Anyway, it grabbed me ...” She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice under control. Anvar hugged her closer, and she gave him a grateful smile. “I was fighting . . . After that, I don’t remember. It only seemed to be a split second before Shia was telling me I’d hit you,” She raised her hand to a lurid bruise on Anvar’s cheekbone. “I hurt you, Anvar. I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t you. That was Harihn.”
“Oh, Anvar, you haven’t been fighting?” Aurian was dismayed.
“Wait until you hear the whole story.” Assisted by Shia, and with the occasional confirmatory nod from Bohan, Anvar told her what had happened. Aurian interrupted with astonished delight when she discovered that he and Shia could speak to one another, and again to heap bloodcurdling curses on Harihn’s head, when she heard how the Prince had abandoned her friends to die. When her rage had calmed enough to let her hear the rest of the tale, she shuddered to hear of their fight with the monster, and Shia’s near loss in the depths of the abyss.
But when Anvar began to describe their crossing of the invisible bridge, it was too much. “No! Don’t tell me! I’d rather not hear about that bit, if you don’t mind,” she apologized.
When Anvar had finished his tale, Aurian looked at the faces of her companions, utterly moved by their courage and loyalty. “My dearest friends, you’ve been so brave ... I don’t know how to thank you . . .” She ran out of words, and brushed away a tear.