Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (20 page)

Fear of losing everything made Chiannala duck her head and stay silent but, inside, her guts were roiling with anger. Would this be the end of all her dreams of greatness?

She vowed that it would not. She had murdered to win her place, this chance at the Academy. She wasn’t about to waste it now.

~

W
ith the tide of opinion turning against them very quickly, the remaining pacifist Luen Heads – Aldyth of the Academics, Daina of the
Artisans, Tinagen of the Healers and Lanrion of the Nurturers – planned a meeting with the two deposed leaders late that night. They were afraid of being spied on, even by their own members,
so one by one they slipped out of the city by various routes and made their way around the headland of the southernmost bay. It was no night to be out and about. Before sunset, great banks of
curdled-looking, sinister dark purple cloud had massed on the horizon, and now the storm had hit the city with a wild howling gale and torrential rain that penetrated cloaks and clothing in no
time, making them cling, chill and clammy, to the skin.

Once they had rounded the southern promontory, nature took over from the city and the cliffs became high and rugged, their ledges packed with nesting seabirds. A set of narrow steps had been
carved into the rock, barely wide enough for one person at a time to descend. The beleaguered Wizards picked their way down cautiously, their magelight illuminating each step and supplementing the
natural night vision that was a talent of their kind. A rough-edged, guano-streaked rock face was on their left and a stomach-churning drop was on their right, to the rocks and crashing surf
below.

As he followed Tinagen and Lanrion, Aldyth shivered violently, filled with misgivings.

I’m too old for this. I’ve outlived my time.

Almost five hundred years – where had all the time gone? As he picked his careful way down the cliff, he remembered the Tyrineld of his youth: smaller, less sprawling, the buildings
simple, square and blocky, constructed from timber and mortared stone. It had been Wylnas of the Artisans who had discovered the spell to fabricate a flawless white material, like marble but
impervious to the staining and depredations of the weather. One by one, the city’s houses, towers and halls had been rebuilt in the new material, to new and beautiful designs. Chalisa, the
Archwizard at that time, had an eye for beauty and a heartfelt instinct for harmony, and it had been her vision that had transformed Tyrineld into a jewel among cities. She had planned and schemed,
cajoled, exhorted and browbeaten the Heads of Luens and the city’s inhabitants, and somehow they had all found themselves working together with energy and determination until her vision was
achieved, and Tyrineld was the wonder of the world.

Despite all his cares and worries, Aldyth found himself smiling in the darkness. Who knew better than he how stubborn Chalisa had been, how tireless, how proud? Who was better acquainted with
her wiles and charms, her intelligence and fire, the tenacity that could sometimes cross the line into absolute pigheaded determination not to be beaten? One way or another, Chalisa always got what
she wanted – including the tall, gangling redheaded Wizard with the ferocious intellect and the crippling shyness that drove him away from people and into his studies.

Again, Aldyth found himself smiling. To this day he’d never really understood what Chalisa had seen in him, but she had set out to win him as her soulmate and, as usual, what she wanted
she had achieved. For more than three centuries they had been happy together, and would have been yet, had it not been for the devastating storm that had struck Tyrineld one terrible night,
levelling half the city and leaving many of its inhabitants dead: killed outright or injured beyond the skills of the Healers to repair. Aldyth himself had been hurt, and the Healers were treating
his broken arm and concussion when the worst moment of his life occurred, and he felt his beloved’s death.

While Chalisa had been searching for survivors in some of the Academy buildings on the clifftop, the entire face of the precipice, battered relentlessly by savage gales and towering seas, had
given way, taking with it the buildings, the search party, and Aldyth’s lovely soulmate. Her body, buried beneath tons of rubble on the ocean floor, had never been found.

Aldyth, alone and wracked by grief, had decided to leave his own life; to die, as was the prerogative of the Wizardfolk when they had finally tired of the long, unreeling years and wished to
rest. What was there to stay for? The city of Tyrineld had been devastated by the storm. The survivors, stunned and grieving the loss of so many of their fellows, including their beloved
Archwizard, wandered the wreckage and huddled in the ruins, and no one seemed to know how to proceed. Many would choose death, as he himself was planning to do, Aldyth thought, as he surveyed the
devastation from the ruins of Ariel’s Tower. They would abandon lives that had suddenly become unendurable, and Tyrineld, once so proud and magnificent, would dwindle to a backwater fishing
village. Gradually the ruined buildings would crumble, the survivors would scatter and disperse, and Chalisa’s wonderful vision would become a thing of the past, lost from the world for
ever.

‘OVER MY DEAD BODY!’

Aldyth spun at the sound of those familiar, ringing tones – the beloved voice that he had never thought to hear again, except in memory. Chalisa stood behind him, though whether he saw her
with his normal vision, or in his mind’s eye, he could never, afterwards, be quite sure. All he knew was that she stood there: not wishful thinking or a trick of his grieving imagination, but
truly in the room with him. With a cry he reached for her, but—

‘Don’t!’ The authority in her voice stopped him in his tracks. ‘Don’t, my love,’ she added more gently. ‘You can’t touch me now, for I have passed
beyond this world. I should not be here at all: there should be no returning on the road that I have taken, but’ – she smiled at him, that brilliant smile he had known and loved for so
long – ‘as you know, I can be very persuasive when I try. Even so, I am only allowed to come to you for a moment, but there is something I must say before I pass away through the Well
of Souls.’ She fixed him with a piercing look. ‘My love, will you promise to do one thing for me?’

‘Of course I will,’ he said quickly. ‘Anything.’

She grimaced; rueful, sympathetic, but when she spoke her voice was firm. ‘The people need a leader now, Aldyth. They need unity and purpose. They need someone to guide them, to nurture
them, to help them rebuild their city and their shattered lives. You must carry on where I left off. You must become Archwizard after me.’

Aldyth was thunderstruck. ‘But I’m no Archwizard! I am nothing like you. I cannot lead our people.’

‘Nonsense,’ Chalisa said firmly. ‘You are the best person I have ever known, and you are more than fit to be Archwizard. Believe in yourself, Aldyth, as I believe in you
– then get out there and save our people.’ Aldyth felt the faintest, phantom touch of a kiss on his lips, then Chalisa had faded away.

It had been her final request to him: how could he refuse? For love of her, he had found the courage and fortitude to take up the burden of this broken city and to help these desperate Wizards
rebuild their homes and their lives. For almost a century he had ruled Tyrineld as Archwizard, before gratefully relinquishing the reins of authority to Cyran and retiring to his post as Head of
the Academy. He had done his duty – more than his duty. Was there really any reason he should keep on lingering here?

While he had been lost in memories of the past, Aldyth had lagged a fair way behind the other two on the uncertain, slippery stairway. Pulling his attention back to the here and now, he followed
them down, going as fast as he dared but resisting the temptation to hurry. One slip on these steps and Tinagen, Daina and Lanrion would be waiting for ever for him to join them, instead of a mere
few minutes, not to mention Galiena and Callia, the two deposed Heads, who, since they no longer had their responsibilities to detain them, had been the first to slip down to the temple.

About two-thirds of the way down the escarpment a hanging turret had been carved by magic from the living rock. Round in shape with a rather fanciful, conical, pointed roof, it was just large
enough for two small, compact rooms, one above the other. It had once been the home of Endarl, a legendary Wizard of long ago who had relinquished all communication with his fellows, in order to
concentrate entirely, and without distractions, upon his magic. Anything he needed he apported down to his little haven, and as the years passed, the Wizards of Tyrineld finally began to forget
that he was even there – until at last they felt his passing. He had left behind him a vast collection of writings that had heralded some remarkable advances in the practice of magic,
including the invention of the spell to take a subject or an object out of time, and his more complex works were still being investigated by the Luen of Spellweavers to this very day.

The solitary door of the turret led directly from the bottom of the stairway into the upper chamber. Tinagen, Daina and Lanrion let themselves in, and Aldyth saw the blue globes of their
magelight pause, then vanish inside as they ducked beneath the low lintel. He had just started to move again, and was still about two dozen steps up from the turret door when he realised that all
was lost. The warning silver shimmer of magic flashed like a lighthouse beam through the open doorway and he froze, heart thudding in his chest. He shrank back against the cliff face like a hunted
animal as the sound of voices came from below.

‘Got them!’

‘Some conspirators – they made it easy for us, coming to this lonely place.’

‘Too true. It certainly came as a shock to Callia. Did you see her face when we arrested her?’

‘And since we took her out of time so that she couldn’t warn the others, that expression’s going to be there for quite a while.’ There was the sound of cruel
laughter.

‘Be quiet, the lot of you.’ It was Omaira’s voice, sharp with its customary snap of authority. ‘Before you start getting too cocky, just remember that if Galiena
hadn’t decided to change sides and join us, we wouldn’t have found out about this.’

‘So that’s how you knew.’ Tinagen’s voice was filled with venom. Aldyth had never heard him sound so furious. ‘And what was Galiena’s price? That Sharalind
would reinstate her as head of the Luen – on condition, of course, that she becomes your puppet?’

‘Something like that.’ Aldyth knew Omaira very well, and knew that when she used that particular tone of voice it came accompanied by a wry expression and a shrug. ‘As soon as
Sharalind decides that she can truly be trusted.’

‘In other words, you’re holding it over her head as a kind of blackmail, or a bribe, to keep her under your control,’ Tinagen said scornfully. ‘I’ve known you all
my life, Omaira. We haven’t seen eye to eye on a number of matters over the years, but I never thought I’d see you turn traitor to you own kind.’

‘What kind is that? You mean the Heads of the Luens? As far as I’m concerned, Tinagen,
all
the Wizardfolk are my own kind, and as head of the Warrior Luen, I’m pledged
to protect them. You’ve got to face facts: if the Phaerie killed poor Avithan, it’s going to mean war whether you like it or not. It’s not unrealistic to be
prepared—’

‘Don’t you
dare
use that poor young man’s death as an excuse! You’ve been itching for something like this for years. It’s not a defence that Sharalind is
preparing, and well you know it. She plans to start a war over Avithan’s death. She wants blood, nothing less will satisfy her, and she’ll drag the whole realm of the Wizards down with
her. It’s one thing to defend oneself against an aggressor, but it’s another thing to
be
that aggressor. That’s something I won’t be party to. And what’s
more, when the members of the other Luens hear about your ambush tonight, I think some of Sharalind’s supporters will start to have doubts of their own. No matter how much you try to justify
betraying your colleagues, people are going to start wondering when they’ll be next.’

‘Why, you sanctimonious old windbag!’ It was the hot-headed Vaidel. ‘Not everybody is as cowardly as you. How can you even live with yourself when—’

‘Excuse me, Vaidel,’ someone interrupted.

‘What?’ Aldyth could just imagine his anger swinging round to impale the speaker.

‘Er – I thought Galiena said there were supposed to be four.’

‘Shit!’ Omaira’s voice cut through the keening gale. ‘Where’s Aldyth? He can’t be far away. We were definitely told that all of the dissenters were meeting
here tonight. The old dodderer probably lagged behind the others. Get up that staircase quick and find him, because if we don’t, and he carries word of what happened here back to the city,
we’ll lose the trust and support of the other Luens.’

‘Not to mention that Sharalind will have our hides.’ This time, it was Vaidel who spoke. Then several figures emerged, one by one, through the narrow doorway, and Aldyth realised
that he had no hope of escape. There was no time to get back up the cliff before they caught him. He couldn’t fight them all – he was a scholar, not a warrior, and he couldn’t
apport – he was too old now to manage the considerable expenditure of energy involved. Suddenly an image of Chalisa leapt into his mind. This time she did not urge him to stay, but smiled and
beckoned, her face aglow with love. Was it a true vision, or his imagination reflecting the dearest wish of his heart? Aldyth did not care.

‘There he is!’ The cry went up from below him, all too close. ‘Get him.’

Taking a last, deep breath, Aldyth opened his arms as if to embrace the dark, stormy night and the crashing waves, and took a mighty leap off the edge of the cliff, arcing out high and wide
before arrowing down into the sea.