Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (30 page)

Chiannala was sure that this benign neglect, under the disguise of orientation, was not for their benefit, but was because the Healers were simply too busy and preoccupied to bother with them.
She was bored and frustrated. If she had to be stuck in this place she wanted to do, to learn, to participate in the activity. It ill suited her nature to be thrust to one side. Then suddenly, late
in the morning, everything changed. She was loitering near the closed-off area when a great commotion came from behind the door.

‘We’re losing him,’ she heard. ‘All together everyone – quick! Tinagen’s the focus.’

Even through the distance and the closed door, Chiannala felt her skin prickle as the build-up of powerful magic, the result of a number of skilled minds working in concert, swirled through her.
Then the shouting came again. ‘It’s no good. He keeps slipping away from us. There aren’t enough of us. We need more. Wesnian, drop out. Get everyone you can find in here right
now!’

The door burst open and one of the Healers she’d noticed yesterday came rushing out, his hair askew, his skin beaded with perspiration and his features white and drained. His eye lit on
Chiannala. ‘Here, you! Get in there at once. We need all the help we can get.’ Grabbing her arm he thrust her through the door and into the passageway beyond before running off to
recruit more help.

Chiannala went with alacrity. At last, a chance to see the secret patient. At long last, a chance to prove herself. Through a doorway at the far end of the corridor she saw a blaze of light, the
blue-violet radiance of powerful healing spells. Bursting into the chamber she discovered a number of Healers, all focusing their power on Tinagen himself, who stood looking grey-faced and spent
near the head of the patient’s bed.

The face on the pillow, though almost as white as the snowy linen on which it lay, was fine-featured and gloriously handsome, with a tumble of black curls falling about his shoulders. Chiannala
was stunned to see a great pair of wings, supported in position by a scaffolding of slender canes, their shattered bones braced and splinted by a network of spells. She gasped. One of the legendary
Skyfolk?
Here?

A woman with short, dark hair seized her arm and pulled her into the throng. ‘No time to lose,’ she said. ‘Feed all your powers into Tinagen.’

‘Verelle, she can’t,’ Melisanda shouted. She was standing close to the Luen Head, her sweat-soaked hair hanging in ropes and her eyes ablaze with power. “She’s just
a first-year student. She can’t—’

‘Oh yes I can,’ Chiannala said defiantly. ‘I will.’ Before anyone could stop her she gathered all her power and flung it at Tinagen, and as it was sucked into the vortex
of magic she felt it blending with the powers of the others, becoming part of a vast and incredible whole.

‘Good girl,’ muttered Verelle. ‘Well done. As soon as you feel yourself tiring, though, drop out. We can’t risk losing a first-year to burnout.’

Burnout? Nonsense! Chiannala had never felt more powerful or alive. She felt more magical energies blending with her own as other Healers crammed themselves into the room. It was a thrilling
feeling to be part of it – like flying, she thought, as she bent all her considerable will to the task, pouring her power in a steady stream into the still, glowing figure of Tinagen.

Then all at once, something strange happened. She began to feel the life force of the patient, fluttering feebly against some inner part of her mind like the flicker of a guttering flame.

It shook her to the core.

Never before had she felt such an intimate bond with another individual. Though the room was full of Healers, all more experienced, it suddenly felt as if she and only she could hold him to life
and save him. Abruptly she severed her power-feed to Tinagen, ignoring the ripple of shock and consternation that went through the others as they fought to compensate for the sudden alteration.
Instead, she turned her focus directly onto the still figure on the bed, pouring all her magic, all her energy, directly into him and willing him to hold on, to breathe, to live, even though she
could feel him fading. In her mind’s eye – a true vision, not her imagination – she saw him receding down a long tunnel of darkness, slipping further away from her with every
passing moment.

Grimly, Chiannala fought with all her strength to hold on to him. He
wouldn’t
die. She wouldn’t let it happen. Taking a deep breath, she sent herself after him into that
strange, dark void.

She wished that she could see him properly, but in her vision he seemed ephemeral, shrouded in shadow; already he was abandoning his ties to the world. Well, she would just see about that.
Somehow she made herself go faster, pushing herself towards him though it cost her a considerable amount of effort. Soon she was gaining, she was just behind him, and—

She suddenly realised that she was as incorporeal as he. How could she talk to him, touch him, pull him back? Even as she hesitated, he drew away from her again, receding into the darkness. Some
instinct in Chiannala told her that if he went much further, there would be no returning – for either of them. She cursed under her breath. ‘Hey you! Come back,’ she shouted in
mindspeech. ‘Come back right now, you stupid idiot. You’re going the wrong way.’

Though his form was still indistinct, still shrouded in shadow, she sensed him half-turn towards her, felt that inexorable forward progress slow. ‘Don’t want to. Go away.’ He
meant to sound fierce, she knew, but he was so far gone that his voice only held a thin edge of defiance, like the whine of a tired child.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she told him. ‘You don’t know what’s waiting for you down in the darkness. Do you really want to give up light and life and everything you
have in this world for the unknown?’

The shadowy figure shrugged. ‘Too much pain. Tired. Done.’

‘You’re
not
done,’ Chiannala snarled at him. ‘Don’t be so damn feeble. With a little effort now you can have your life back. Do you really want to give up
everything? Just like that? Do you want to
lose
?’

His sigh was long, hollow and despairing; a chill wind blowing over wasteland in the dead of night. ‘Already lost. Broken. Don’t
want
to come back.’

Chiannala wanted to prove to the Healers that she was as good as any of them, and if that meant pulling this whining fool back from the brink of death, then she would do it – supposing she
had to drag him every inch of the way.

To make things worse, she was running out of time. While she wasted precious minutes wrangling with him he was slipping further away from life, and dragging her with him. It was easy to be
pulled in this direction; it felt as though there was some sort of natural tide sweeping them onward, but to get back she sensed she would be fighting the same strong current all the way, hampered
by the reluctant stranger. If she went much further, she might not have enough strength to get herself back, let alone this weak, despairing idiot. Panic clutched at her, but she fought it down.
She
would
get back – and by all the magic in her, she was taking him with her.

An idea struck her. Quickly she envisioned the weaving of her will into a silver net. She poured her magic into the image, and when it was ready she cast it round the dying man. He fought and
struggled, thrashing like a landed salmon. ‘Leave me alone, curse you! I
won’t
go back.’

By now, Chiannala was tiring. It took enormous energy and strength of will to keep herself in place against the pull of death’s current. Already she could feel the weariness beginning to
gnaw at her, sapping her strength and will. Inch by inch, or so it seemed, she was losing ground; slipping away from life and the reality she knew. If the stranger continued to fight her like this,
they would both lose their lives. Gambling everything on one last try, Chiannala relaxed and stopped tugging at him, though she left the net in place. Maybe reasoning would work, where force had
failed. ‘In the name of all Creation,
why
?’ she demanded. ‘Why don’t you want to live?’

‘Nothing to live for. Crippled. Broken.’ His voice thickened with hatred. ‘No more flight, no more sky.
He
broke me.’

Relief flooded through Chiannala. Here at last was the lever she’d been looking for. ‘Who broke you?’

‘Filthy Wizard. Yinze.’ He spat out the words with venom.

Yinze. Iriana’s foster brother. Giggling girls around the Academy did nothing but talk about him. Despite her predicament, Chiannala smiled to herself. Fate worked in mysterious ways.
‘What about revenge?’ she asked in insinuating tones. ‘Do you want to run away like a coward, without making that bastard pay for what he did to you?’

‘How can I?’ Chiannala was heartened to hear the snap of anger. If he was angry he would fight. Then her hopes were dashed as his voice sank once more into defeat. ‘Lost.
Broken. Done.’

‘You
can
do it,’ she urged him. ‘You will. I’ll help you, I swear it. Don’t give up yet. Come back and let our Healers work on you. They’re the best
in the world – if anyone can help you they can. Yinze took everything from you. Are you going to let him get away with it? Imagine how good your vengeance will feel . . .’

She had him now. He was still shadowy, still indistinct, but as he turned to her she could feel a strength growing in him that had not been there before. The savage pull of death’s tide
lessened as he added his strength to hers, and slowly they began to inch their way back towards light and life.

Death, however, was not done with them yet. Though Chiannala had expected that it would be more difficult to return, she had not realised just how much the growing fatigue would slow her down.
Even with the help of the one she had come to rescue, it was a desperate battle: it was like trying to climb a mountain with both feet tied together. All at once, Chiannala realised that
she’d made a terrible misjudgement. In the struggle just to keep herself and the other in place, to avoid sliding any further into the abyss, she had used up too much energy; too much of her
strength. Weariness coiled tightly round her like thick iron chains, weighing her down, pulling her back. Bit by bit she felt herself slipping, losing the hard-won ground she’d already
gained, and the more she struggled and fought, the more she weakened herself.

Panic jolted through her like a lightning bolt. So this was what Melisanda had meant when she’d talked about burnout! Finally, she realised why the Healer had been so determined to hammer
the warning home. At last, too late, she understood her peril. She was trapped here between life and death, between light and shadows, and minute by minute she was slipping further down towards the
dark. When she got there, there would be no coming back.

Chiannala’s companion was weakening too. Though on the face of things she had persuaded him to go back, his heart had never really been committed to returning. Sick, in pain, wounded both
in body and spirit, he had neither the will nor the strength for this fight.

She should never have persisted. She should have let him go. Now everything, all her hopes and her schemes, her plans and her dreams lay in ruins. What a fool she had been! Up to this point it
had never occurred to her to abandon him, to let him go, to try to save herself. Now she finally understood that there was no alternative. Tasting bitter failure, she began to cast loose the net of
will in which she had ensnared him. Knowing that it was hopeless, that she was lost in any case, still she prepared to gamble everything on one last try—

When suddenly a searing blue light came arrowing into the imprisoning darkness, and as it drew closer she realised that it held the will and spirit, the power and presence of Melisanda. It
touched her, and she felt a blaze of renewed energy and vigour.

‘You little idiot.’ She heard the Healer’s voice clearly in her mind. ‘This is exactly the sort of situation we were trying to avoid.’

Now it was Chiannala’s turn to be enclosed in the shimmering blue net of Melisanda’s will, just as she had captured the faltering spirit of the stranger, only this was far stronger,
brighter, more elegantly spun than hers had been.

‘All right, Lameron,’ Melisanda said. ‘We’re ready.’

Only then did Chiannala realise that they were not alone. Further back towards the light she saw a green shimmer that she recognised as Lameron, who was supporting Melisanda in a net of his own
will, and beyond him, holding him in the same way, was the vivid golden blaze that was Tinagen himself. Together, they were strong. Chiannala felt the darkness receding behind her as she was pulled
steadily towards the light, still trailing the stranger behind her, held fast to her by the last shreds of her web of will.

Exhausted as she was, it would have been a pleasure and relief just to let herself go, to let the others bring her safely home, yet she understood how much energy it was costing them and the
risks they were taking, and her pride would not let her be a helpless passenger. She dug down deep and found a few last drops of strength and purpose, and poured them unstintingly into the linked
Healers’ chain of power.

Faster now and faster she was moving – until suddenly she burst back into the light, back into her body, and found herself lying on the floor with a circle of Healers around her, who
sagged so wearily that it looked as though they had been pulling with their physical muscles as well as mental strength.

Then suddenly they were all looking at her, and Chiannala trembled.

How had it all gone wrong? She was supposed to be a hero. She was the one who had saved the patient, the only one who had been able to bring him back. She had risked her life – had nearly
died.

Stupid Healers.

They should have been grateful – but were they? No. Instead she was surrounded, hemmed in like a beast of prey by a circle of steel-eyed Healers, and all of them tearing into her at
once.

She was a fool, a moron, an irresponsible little idiot. Who did she think she was, a mere student of two days, to try such an insane thing? She had been warned by Melisanda about burnout. If she
couldn’t listen, couldn’t follow instructions, couldn’t obey orders, she would be no good as a Healer. How dare she try to meddle with the delicate spells of older, experienced
Healers? Proper Healers? She was a fool, and idiot, a moron.