Aurian watched, amazed, as silver flooded Chiamh’s eyes. Leaning on the parapet, he relaxed, all expression leaving his face, and the Mage realized that his consciousness had left his body. Suddenly, she was seized by an idea. Breathing deeply, she relaxed her own body and slipped easily out of her mundane form.
Chiamh was still hovering above the tower: a golden swirl of incandescent light. She saw his astonished flicker as he noted her presence. “Can you hear me?” Aurian asked him. In their physical forms, she had not thought to try mental communication with the Windeye, and for a moment, entertained some doubt about the extent of his powers.
“Lady, yes!” His mental voice rang out, clear and joyous. “How beautiful you look: a being of light, just as I first saw you in my vision.”
In her anxiety, the Mage had little time for compliments, however pleasant, but she could not bring herself to be angry with the Seer. “I wondered, Chiamh—could you take me with you when you ride the winds to Aerillia?” she asked him.
“Let us try!” As if he were extending his hand, the Windeye held out a glimmering, luminescent tentacle, and Aurian stretched out a similar strand of her own being to touch it. The two lights met in a flash of warm brilliance, and suddenly, the Mage could see the world as Chiamh saw it with his Othersight. She gasped with amazement to see the mountains, like translucent, glittering prisms, and the winds as turbulent rivers of glowing silver.
“Are you ready?” Chiamh’s voice rang proudly in her mind, and Aurian knew that he had sensed and appreciated her delight.
“I’m ready,” she replied.
“Then hold on tight!” The Windeye stretched out another glowing limb and snatched at a strand of silvery wind. The next minute, they were being borne aloft over the mountains at an incredible pace, riding on a stream of light.
“This is wonderful,” Aurian cried exultantly. Attuned lo Chiamh’s thoughts while they touched, she could also feel his joy in the wild and exhilarating ride.
“I never knew it could be like this,” he replied. “Always, before, I have voyaged alone, and it was lonely and not a little alarming. But this . . . Lady, what a gift you have given me. I will never fear my powers again!”
Aurian was glad that she had helped him, for he too had given her an amazing gift by taking her on this journey. It was one of the most incredible experiences of her life, only marred by the shadow of concern, always at the back of her mind, for the fate of Anvar and Shia.
“Here is Aerillia, far below us,” the Windeye said at last. To her astonishment, Aurian saw what seemed to be a cluster of brilliant sparks far below her, and recognized them, with a start, as the myriad life energies of the Winged Folk who dwelt atop the soaring peak.
As the Windeye swooped down closer, Aurian strained to make out details of the peaktop city. Now, the weird, prismatic effect of Chiamh’s augmented vision was a decided disadvantage. “Is there any way I can get my normal sight back?” she asked him.
“Surely.” Chiamh’s mental tone was tinged with regret for the end of their journey. “You are here now—at least, your inner self is here. Simply let go, and you will see normally. I will stay close at hand, to take you back when you wish to go.”
Thanking the Windeye, Aurian withdrew the attenuated tentacle of light, severing her connection with Chiamh’s inner form. Looking down, she gasped. On the highest pinnacle of the mountain was the shattered shell of a peat black building, with Winged Folk wheeling all around it in panic. It certainly looked as though Anvar had regained the Staff! But why in the world would he not answer her?
Lowering her inner form toward the ground, Aurian tried calling for Shia, instead, and at last she got an answer.
“Where the blazes are you?” the Mage demanded, brusque in her anxiety, “What happened? Where is Anvar?”
“I’m hiding,” Shia replied grimly, “with Khanu, another of my people who came to help me. We are in the passages below the temple. There is no one to explain to these winged monsters that we came to free them ...”
Cold dread swept through Aurian as she heard the hesitation in the great cat’s voice. “Why could Anvar not explain to them? Where is he?” Her mental tones began as little more than a whisper, rising to an anguished cry. “Where is Anvar? He can’t be dead! I would have felt it!”
“You are right.” Shia’s matter-of-fact voice helped to calm the distraught Mage. “I kept in contact with him while he pursued Blacktalon from the temple. The priest fled to a tower, where Anvar slew him. Then there was an earthquake—not a natural phenomenon, I’m sure ...” Shia’s mental tones betrayed her puzzlement. “When the tower collapsed, I lost contact with Anvar’s mind, but it did not feel like death ... It felt similar to that time in Dhiammara, when you were caught in that magical trap and swept away into the mountain. It was as though he simply vanished,”
“Dear gods!” Aurian was stunned. What could have become of Anvar? Was it some trap set by Miathan, to steal the Staff? But surely the Archmage was currently out of the reckoning, having been hurled so abruptly from Harihn’s body when the Prince was slain, “Listen, Shia,” she said abruptly. “I must find a way to get to Aerillia. I’m not in my body right now, but—”
“Then the child has been born?” Shia asked anxiously,
“Yes, and we’re all free now, Harihn is dead—but I’ll tell you later, I’ll find a way to reach you as quickly as I can,”
“I hope so. We are trapped down here, and soon must be discovered. Aurian, before you leave ...” Quickly, Shia told the Mage what had happened to Raven, It made grim hearing, but the Mage had too many other anxieties to waste pity on the girl who had betrayed her. Still, the information could come in very useful. The seed of an idea began to form in Aurian’s mind, “I must go now,” she told Shia hastily, “Take care, my friend, until I return,” With that, the Mage sought Chiamh once more, to return her to her body as quickly as possible.
The reunion that took place within the tower was boisterous, as Bohan rushed to embrace Aurian, tears streaming down his face, while the Mage tried to conceal her dismay at his wasted appearance, and the sores that disfigured his enormous limbs. Her heart hardened against Harihn all over again, and in that mood, she found it quite easy to deal ruthlessly with Raven.
She had Parric and Schiannath bring the winged prisoner down from the roof, and while a reluctant Nereni served hot soup and liafa to revive him, the Mage told him, without preamble, of Blacktalon’s death. Though he turned white at the news, Aurian thought she detected a glimmer of relief in his eyes, and hoped it would make it easier to gain his cooperation. In fact, she had already won his gratitude for Healing the wounds that Schiannath had inflicted, and when she offered to set him free to return to Aerillia, if he would deliver a message to Raven, he gave his promise readily.
As she stood in the doorway watching the Skyman take off into the snow-laden clouds, the Mage felt a presence behind her. Yazour was at her shoulder, plainly troubled. “Aurian, is it wise to put your trust in Raven once more?” he asked her.
Aurian shrugged. “I have no choice,” she replied. “I must get to Aerillia in person if I want to find out what happened to Anvar. Besides, what choice has she? From what Anvar told Shia about the damage that had been done to Raven’s wings, my Healing powers are the only hope she has of ever flying again. And if she wants my help, she’ll bloody well have to cooperate and send her winged warriors to bring us to Aerillia.”
“And who will you take with you?”
Aurian smiled at the warrior. “That sounds like one of Anvar’s questions—not really a question at all.”
Yazour nodded. “I will go—unless you do something drastic to stop me.”