Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (15 page)

With the help of Taku and Aurora, two powerful elemental beings in the Elsewhere, and her newfound friend Iriana, Corisand had gained the Fialan and regained her human form in the mundane world.
Her magic sang within her, the power and wonder and joy of it. How could she risk losing that again? How could she bear it, if she did?

There was no choice, however. The only way to get her people away, far and fast, from the clutches of the Forest Lord was to use his own magic against him: in this case, the spell, unique to the
Phaerie royal line, that could make the Xandim fly. Hellorin’s daughter Tiolani had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to help her with this, but in order to take advantage of it, Corisand needed to
lead her people in her equine shape. She doubted that they would recognise or trust her in this new form, and she could not risk failure. In her heart she knew that this would be her only chance.
If she wanted to save her people she must risk herself.

But not alone, since Iriana had come into her life. Corisand was still getting used to having a friend to lean on, and to support in her turn. Horses, herd animals who were never really
comfortable alone, would group together. Sometimes they would form close bonds, but they did not make friends in the same way as these bipeds did. Since Corisand had become Windeye she had been
increasingly isolated from her fellow Xandim, and she had felt that she would never regain that comfortable feeling of belonging that she had known in the old days of innocence and ignorance. Then
Iriana had come along and she’d formed a new sort of friendship, unlike the former equine herdbond: more specific and individual, both cerebral and emotional. The best part of it was that she
never felt alone now. There was always someone to turn to. Somehow the burdens that attached to the role of Windeye seemed less insurmountable, now that she had a friend.

She and Iriana had discussed the matter long into the night, and had finally decided that she would stand the best chance of changing back from her equine shape if she had the Fialan with her.
After several tries, concentrating so hard that she’d thought her brain would burst, Corisand persuaded the Stone to come loose from the staff. Then Dael had found a small leather pouch and
attached a long braided leather thong, so that she could hang it round her neck and it would remain with her when she changed. It was no guarantee, but it was the best she could do.

Now it was high time she put their theories to the test, before she lost her nerve completely. Here in the mundane world, the Fialan’s power was sufficiently contained for her to hold it
in her hand, and she picked it up and dropped it in the pouch, which she hung around her neck. Knowing that Iriana had gone out for a walk by the lake, Corisand went to find her. The sooner she
could get this over with, make the transformation and – hopefully – prove that she could change back again, the quicker she’d be done with this fear that lurked constantly at the
back of her thoughts. As she came downstairs, the sound of curses came up to meet her, along with the delicious fragrance of frying bacon marred by the acrid smell of burning. Entering the kitchen
she discovered Dael, hastily removing a sizzling, spitting pan from the stove. He poked at the bacon with a fork, turning it gingerly to see the damage. ‘Could be worse,’ he muttered,
and turned to Corisand with a rueful grimace. ‘I let my mind wander just for a minute, and see what happens. Life was a lot easier when Athina was here.’

Though he tried to speak brightly, Corisand could hear the tautness of pain in his voice, and see the shadows of sleeplessness beneath his eyes, and though the instinct to comfort was beyond
anything she had known in her equine form, she reached out to touch his shoulder. ‘Never mind about breakfast. We’ll scrounge something in a little while. I’m going to find Iriana
now. Want to come?’ She surprised herself with the invitation. She had meant to take this frightening step with only the Wizard there to help her, yet how could she exclude Dael, and why
should she? As part of a race that had been deprived of freedom, she found herself with a surprising amount of fellow feeling for this young mortal slave, as had Iriana. Though Wizards regarded
humans as nothing more than intelligent beasts of burden, Iriana’s affinity with all creatures and her boundless compassion had opened the door to thinking of Dael as something more. She had
accepted him, as had the Windeye, as an integral part of their group.

‘Does this mean you’ve finally decided?’ he asked as they left the tower. Corisand turned to him in surprise, and he shrugged. ‘I’ve heard you and Iriana talking. I
know you have to risk turning back into your other form.’ This time it was his turn to pat her on the arm. ‘You’ll do it, don’t worry. Why, with a bit of practice
you’ll be switching back and forth as though you’d been doing it all your life. You’ll see. Athina had every faith in you, so it must be all right.’

Yet Athina couldn’t save herself, Corisand thought. She wasn’t infallible.

‘I wish I could change myself the way that you can,’ Dael said suddenly.

‘What would you turn into?’

Dael looked away across the lake, his eyes distant. ‘Oh, a Wizard, a Phaerie – somebody with magic. Then maybe I could follow Athina. Maybe I could find her again.’

Corisand stopped walking for a moment, and turned to him. ‘Dael, I think we have a long, hard road ahead of us. But if there’s any justice in this world, you’ll find Athina at
the end of it. And I promise that if there’s any way to help you get back to her, Iriana and I will help you find it. We three must make the oddest, most ill-assorted group of companions the
world has ever seen, but we are friends, and we’re all in this together.’

~

T
he Windeye and Dael were led to Iriana’s location by a series of loud bangs and crashes. The Wizard, with Melik at her side as always, was
practising the use of magic as a weapon, remembering what Esmon had taught her and going through all the elements at her disposal: Earth, Water, Fire and Air. The sharp tang of woodsmoke filled the
air, reminding Corisand of Dael’s mishap with the bacon. It came from the smouldering remnants of a pile of flotsam at the side of the lake. Clearly, the Wizard had been working on the
element of Fire already.

Dael gave a low whistle and turned to Corisand. ‘I’m sorry we missed that,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll wager it was worth seeing.’ Not wanting to break her
concentration, they waited where they were until she had finished.

Now Iriana had turned to Earth. She had placed a row of small rocks, about the size of her head, about twenty yards away from her on the narrow gravelly beach. As Corisand watched her,
wide-eyed, she lifted her hand and the stone at the end of the row shattered with a crack, sending an explosion of shards spattering in the water and clattering across the gravel, hitting hard
enough to gouge deep grooves. Melik put his ears back and yowled his disapproval, and the Wizard patted him briefly on the head before continuing down the row, detonating the rocks one by one
– until she reached the last. This stone she levitated into the air, her taut expression clearly showing the strain. She whipped her hand back in a casting motion and sent the rock hurtling
into the lake, where it hit the water with tremendous force, its impact throwing up a glittering plume of spray.

Iriana doubled up with her hands resting on her knees, clearly catching her breath before moving on to the next form of attack. Straightening, she gazed out across the lake with glowing eyes
that were filled with a fierce purpose. Suddenly the surface began to churn and a jet of water rose up and shot with incredible velocity towards the shore, hitting a tree so hard that it rocked and
shuddered, shaking loose a shower of leaves. With a sharp crack one of the lowest branches broke off, and Iriana swore. She went to the tree and fitted the injured limb back into place, and as she
passed her hand over the joint, Corisand saw a faint blue glow. When she stepped back, the bough was part of the tree once more, as though nothing had ever happened to hurt it.

‘Some warrior you’re going to make,’ Corisand called out jokingly to her friend. ‘Every time you hurt one of the Phaerie, you’ll be running up to apologise to them
and heal them.’

Iriana shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t have any quarrel with the poor tree, but I do have one with the accursed Phaerie – for Avithan, for Esmon and my poor
animals.’ She walked towards them, looking pale and tired, but very grim and determined.

I’m not the only one making sacrifices here, Corisand thought. ‘Very impressive,’ she said aloud, ‘but I think you’ve done enough practising for now. What about
letting me do some of the work instead?’

The Wizard hesitated, then nodded briefly. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Wait. Watch. Don’t do anything unless I’m in desperate trouble and there’s no way I can change back on my own. Then—’

‘I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.’ Iriana held out her hand. ‘I promise.’

Corisand moved a little way apart from the others. She hoped her Windeye heritage, half instinct and half inherited memory, had been accurate in the matter of clothing – such a nuisance,
but with only thin human skin to protect her instead of the lovely dappled hide of her equine aspect, it was essential. She knew that as long as all her garb derived from plant or animal sources,
it should change with her. Inorganic materials such as metal fastenings would be discarded. Well, if that were true, she should be all right. All the gear she was wearing, kindly provided by
Athina, was wool, cotton or leather, and any fastenings were made from bone or horn.

She put it out of her mind, and began to concentrate on making the change. For the first attempt, she had taken the accurate image of her equine form from Iriana’s memory: now it would
always be locked in her own mind when she needed it. Visualising the alternate shape standing before her, she moved her thoughts into the image.

All at once she felt the alterations taking place and, though everything was happening simultaneously, her mind registered each change so that time seemed to stretch for her as her bones and
muscles lengthened, stretched and grew thick and strong. Her weight fell forward as her spine altered, and suddenly she was standing four-square on neat hooves that sank into the cool turf.

Her equine sense of smell, thousands of times stronger than that of a human, swamped her mind with information: the sweet water from the nearby lake, a fading drift of smoke from Iriana’s
Fire spells, the sharp anxiety of her friends, and the familiar, friendly curiosity of the other horses tethered nearby. Which plants were good to eat, which should be left alone, which small
animals were hidden in the nearby trees and undergrowth. Her vision lost the intensity of its colour but became sweeping and panoramic as her head changed shape and her eyes moved to the sides. She
shivered in delight as the cool breeze played across her dappled hide. You missed so much
sensation
, wearing clothes! Suddenly Corisand was filled with the urge to run. With a flick of her
tail she was off, thundering along the smooth turf at the side of the lake, her mane and tail streaming behind her.

Oh, the blissful feeling of liberation! To lose herself in the movement, the sheer thrill of speed; the warming, stretching interplay of muscle and bone and the powerful drumming of her heart as
the fierce blood raced through her body. For a brief, blissful time she cast herself loose from her worries, her responsibilities to her companions, her burdens as the Windeye, and became only
horse; simple, elemental and free.

Then she slowed, and let the world flow back to her, and was Corisand again. With only a brief pang of regret, she turned and trotted back to her friends. Iriana was waiting, eyebrows raised.
The Windeye ducked her head in embarrassment. ‘I just needed to run,’ she explained using mindspeech. ‘It’s – well, if you had ever been a horse, you would
understand.’

Iriana grinned. ‘It looked like fun. Are you ready to change back now?’ she added more soberly.

Corisand took a deep breath. ‘Yes. I’m ready.’ Once more, she stepped away from the others, steadied herself, and reached within to make the transformation, forming a clear
mental image of her two-legged self, just as she had visualised the horse a few moments before. She moved into the image and – nothing happened.

A chill went through her. It was as she had feared. She was powerless once more, her magic imprisoned behind what seemed to be a vast, dark wall.

For a moment of horrifying, paralysing doubt, Corisand’s mind was blank. In her equine form, the instincts of flight were highly developed, and she felt the panic like a great, onrushing
wave, poised to obliterate her rational thoughts. How could she transform without magic? Where could she start? How could she access her powers now? She was trapped again.

Trapped.

Once more the urge overcame her to run, to flee, ignoring responsibilities, forgetting friends, returning to what she had been for most of her life: elemental Horse, all feeling and reaction,
living in the here and now with no thought of the greater consequences.

The easy option.

The coward’s way.

Suddenly Corisand was enraged that she could be so easily duped by her old instincts. Anger roared through her like a forest fire, dispelling her fears and doubts.

I am the Windeye, magical and powerful and I
will
be free.

Then she was herself again, could think again, could reason and act. Because of Hellorin’s imprisoning spell, her powers were lost to her in her equine form, but she knew where she could
find them. The Fialan was the key. When she and Iriana had returned to this world from the Elsewhere, she had used the Stone to maintain her human aspect and, true to the purpose for which it had
been created, it had absorbed, stored and magnified her magic. All she had to do was find the way to reach that power, and set it free.