Anvar lay on his stomach, hanging over the edge of the shaft in a way that made Aurian’s stomach flip over. “This is amazing! Do you want to bet that it goes right down into that chasm we crossed?”
Aurian groaned. “Anvar, come away from there!” “Yes, do,” Shia added, sounding far from happy. “This place is crawling with magic!”
Anvar ignored them both. “Of course it is. Don’t you see, this is some kind of magical pump. That’s why the air was so fresh on the lower levels—this makes it circulate!”
“Very clever, Anvar.” Aurian did her best, but failed to keep the despair from her voice. “It is also, you may have noticed, a dead end. We’ll have to go back down.”
Anvar scrambled up from the brink. “I don’t think so. The path—” he indicated the strip of stone on which they stood “—this dragon stairway, if you like—still goes upward. I think there’ll be a way out at the top!”
Aurian looked up at the path, which curved away ever higher from where they stood, and down again, at the bottomless shaft. She swallowed hard and looked at Anvar. “I thought we weren’t going to frighten each other anymore?” He grinned. “You already broke that promise.” “This isn’t funny!”
“I know. But it’s our only way out. Look, it isn’t all that narrow. It was built for dragons, you know. Come on, Aurian. I’ll hold your hand. You must do it.”
“All right.” Aurian sighed. “But Anvar, if we get all the way to the top and there’s no way out, you’re going straight down that shaft headfirst!”
Afterward, Aurian preferred not to recall that climb. It seemed to go on forever as she sidled up the sloping ramp, Shia and Bohan following her, her back pressed hard against the tower wall. They climbed until their legs were trembling with weariness, but the Mage refused to halt. “No,” she pleaded. “Just get it over with.” But in the end, it was clear that in their famished and exhausted state, they would never make it to the top without resting. Aurian sat huddled as far away from the edge as she could, her eyes tightly closed. After a time they went on, their muscles cramped and their heads swimming, until even Aurian had forgotten the drop beneath in her preoccupation with her aching limbs. It was with a sense of disbelief that she finally saw the archway above her. She staggered into the blessed daylight, and . . ,
“Be careful!” Anvar grabbed her arm, yanking her back against the side of the doorway. Aurian, reeling, fell to the ground. “Anvar,” she gasped, “I hate you. I absolutely hate you.”
She was awakened by a gentle hand shaking her shoulder. Anvar’s face was close to her own. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I let you sleep as long as I dared, but we must get moving while there’s still daylight. Do you still hate me?”
Aurian groaned, aching all over. “That depends. Did I really see what I think I saw?” “I’m afraid so.”
“In that case, yes.” Moving very carefully, she peered over the edge of the platform that topped the tower. The sky—ah, how good it was to see the sky and the sun again after their nighttime journey through the desert and the long days passed in the gloomy halls hengath the mountain. And despite her fear, the view was staggering. The tower stood at one end of an oval plain that stretched about a league—a crater scooped into the top of the mountain. The jagged walls of the peak were higher than the roof on which she perched, and shielded the vale below from the worst of the desert’s blinding glare. And in the vale ... a gleaming city. Aurian caught her breath. It could only be the lost city of the Dragonfolk.
It was arranged, not in lines and angles like a human city, but in a series of interlapping circles joined like a spider’s web, all converging on a massive, conical structure like a great spire that was higher even than the tower. The sun struck fire from its pointed tip—and not surprisingly, for the edifice had been carved from a single, massive green gem. When Aurian had finished gaping, she discovered that all the buildings in the city were similarly constructed, each from a colored jewel that blazed with coruscating light. Most were rounded and single-storied with broad, flat roofs where, the Mage supposed, the Dragonfolk would have basked, absorbing the sun that was their lifeblood. There were several towers, domes, and minarets, all intricately carved and chased, but the highest buildings were the tower from which she looked and the huge spire in the center,
Anvar, it seemed, had seen the view while she slept, and was ready to be practical. “I’ve seen a lot of birds down there. I suppose this is their resting place when they cross the desert. If we can find a way to trap them, we’ll have food. And there must be water down there , . , Surely even the Dragonfolk would need that?”
“So we go down.” Aurian had already noticed the spiral path, a twin to the one on the inside of the tower, that wound down—and down and down—to the city below. “Damn and blast them!” She struck the stone with an impotent fist, and burst into tears. “Why couldn’t they have put railings on these bloody stairways?”
“I’m sorry, love.” Anvar stroked her hair. “But—”
“I know, I know.” Aurian sat up and sniffed, scrubbing at her face with the sleeve of her robe—and caught Anvar’s eye, remembering an occasion long ago when he had chided her for doing just that. “Take no notice of me, Anvar. I’m being an ass.
Lead on, then—since you seem to be in charge where high places are concerned!”
It was far worse going down. The path seemed to tilt crazily beneath Aurian’s feet, and there was nothing below her but thin air. The others were having similar difficulties, and the sun had long since dropped behind the high mountain walls when they neared the bottom. With the path shrouded in gloom and their attention fixed upon their feet, they barely noticed the shadow that plunged across them. Anvar, in the lead, turned to Aurian. “What about some li—” His face froze in horror. The Mage had no time to look behind her. Something struck her hard, wrenching her from the path. Wiry arms grasped at her—she caught a glint of steel. She was falling, falling . . .
33
The Staff of Earth
“Aurian!” Sick with dread, Anvar hurtled down the spiral path, followed by Bohan and Shia. The ledge reached the ground on the opposite side from which the Mage had fallen, and he raced around the base of the tower, not daring to think of what he might find. He almost ran right into the fighters. A small figure, its identity obscured by the dusky shadows that flooded the bottom of the crater, was struggling with the Mage. Aurian was alive!
“Stay back!” The voice was shrill. The stranger, cloaked in deepest black, was using a handful of the Mage’s hair to pull her head back. A gleaming, naked blade lay across Aurian’s throat.
There was no time to wonder how Aurian had survived the fall. Anvar measured the distance between himself and the fighters, weighing the chances of a surprise attack. Not good, he thought. If I could see better . . . Magelight flashed between his fingers. He heard a yelp of shock from the stranger— and Aurian took advantage of her opponent’s distraction. There was a scuffle and a grunt of pain, and the positions of the assailants were suddenly reversed. The dagger spun away, lost in the struggle, Bohan chasing after it. Aurian had her foe down and was attacking with both fists, spitting curses.
Anvar, rememberirrg the blind rage of his fight with Harihn, rushed forward to grab Aurian’s arm. “All right,” he said, panting. “You’ve won!” But when he tried to pull the Mage to her feet, she fell with a cry of pain. “You’re wounded?” Anvar dropped down beside her.