"Come on," she said to Suviel. "We'll have to ride..."
Suviel could hear the exhaustion in her voice, as well as the rage that drove her. Faint pain-filled murmurs came from the youth who was over by the horses, head lolling weakly as he lay on his side. Two desperate fugitives, a female soldier and a wounded man. Without quite believing it, Suviel knew what she was going to do, what she had to do.
It's rank folly to use the Lesser Power openly
, she thought.
I could be risking everything. Yet I can't walk away from these two...
"I'll take care of the bridge," she said. "You stay back there with your friend."
The woman shook her head. "...in the Mother's name..." she muttered before reaching out to grab Suviel. "Just come along, before we all get..."
Suviel caught the outstretched arm and pulled the warrior off-balance, pushing her onto her back.
"Tend to your friend, and leave this to me."
The woman gave her a look of fury mingled with a new respect. Then she glanced at the approaching danger, came easily to her feet and loped over to the youth. Suviel turned to face the oncoming riders and coaxed forth her inner serenity, a soothing of panic, a hush in the turmoil. Almost unbidden, the Lesser Power rose to fill the calm void she had made, a sweet richness of potential which she could shape to her needs.
Quickly she envisioned the thought-canto of Cadence. As it began to coil and grow, she could feel wavelets of sound radiating from her, touching the ground, the tree-bridge, and reflecting back to her. Suddenly, she was intensely aware of the soil beneath her feet, its moist grains of earth and stones and the roots of grass and plants, a dense layer that thinned away towards the edge of the chasm. She focussed the transformed Lesser Power on the brink where the treebridge rested, letting the ripples of sound sink into the solid rock, finding the exact pitch, the exact intensity at which the rock began to sing.
The galloping riders were moments from reaching the bridge when there was a brittle cracking sound. Suviel stepped back as the nearby lip of the chasm crumbled. The treebridge dropped a foot or two then, with a deep groan, it slipped off the edge, swinging down to strike the opposite face of the chasm with a shattering crash. For a second it hung there before its immense weight tore it free from the other side and sent it tumbling in a cascade of soil and rock into the depths.
On the other side most of the riders were fighting to control their panicking horses apart from one, a tall burly man, who dismounted and uttered a wordless bellow of rage. Then to Suviel' dismay, she saw the air around him shimmer as he stretched out one cupped hand which was suddenly filled with flame. He drew back his arm and hurled the fire, not at Suviel but at her warrior companion. In an instant Suviel redirected the Lesser Power's focus and the fireball burst against the shield she had made, tendrils and sparks of flame falling to scorch the ground.
Suviel felt her limbs tremble with the strain but she held the barrier in anticipation of a second attack. The man did nothing, just stood staring across at them, dark eyes never blinking, fists clenched at his sides. Then he turned to the riders and beckoned, and a slender cloaked youth dismounted and went over to join him. The burly man put his hand on the youth's shoulder near the neck then turned.
"Keren!" he cried.
Confused, Suviel glanced round to see the female warrior sitting next to her wounded companion, her shoulders slumped, her eyes glazed. Across the chasm, the man held fast the youth who began to shake violently, face contorted in pain, mouth wide with silent screams as the air rippled and twisted around him.
Suviel was seized by panic and horror. This was no rogue outburst of Lesser Power, but an open display of the Wellsource. Heedless of her own safety she ran over to the woman, letting the Cadence thought-canto fade away and beginning the canto of Clarity, knowing with awful certainty that she would be too late. Suviel had just fallen to her knees when the woman's eyes showed their whites and she sprawled to one side.
"Rouse her, hedge-witch," said the man's voice. "Rouse my Keren so she may see what I have made for her."
Suviel turned in slow dread and gasped. The figure that stood swaying beside the man was different, shorter in height, altered in proportions, and had lighter hair and a smaller, rounder face. The figure was female and was identical to the warrior who lay beside her. A word came into Suviel' thoughts, a word out of dark legend - mirrorchild.
"Or perhaps you should let her sleep," he went on. "Leave her in ignorance of the doom that will find her." He gave a feral smile. "And you, hedge-witch. I will not forget you." Throat dry with fear, Suviel had to swallow before speaking: "Who are you?"
"I am Byrnak, Warlord of Honjir." His smile widened and he laughed loudly, a brutal sound that echoed from the steep mountainsides. He glanced at the woman beside him. "Perhaps I shall take a new title, eh, little hawk?" He lifted her lolling head. "Look, there's your prey. Study them well."
The woman gazed across at Suviel who shivered at that empty, void-like regard. Then those eyes moved to look at Keren, the unconscious warrior, and quivering alarm crossed the woman's features as her mouth tried to frame words.
"Hush," said Byrnak. "Be calm. That one is a creature of evil, a thief who stole my prize and my trust, and who means to steal your very soul. Hear me.." He turned her head and stared into her eyes, "...your name is Nerek and you are my handmaiden. I will teach you things that will help you exact vengeance - "
"Stop this...!" Suviel cried.
" - and retribution against those who would deny us our destinies."
With an arm round her waist, Byrnak led her back to the waiting riders, helped her onto the horse used by the youth, then mounted his own. Without a backward glance he led the band away at a gallop, heading up the track by the riverbed.
Suviel watched them ride out of sight, scarcely able to believe what she had witnessed. The creation of a mirrorchild was a violation of nature, an abomination that would have been impossible before the obliteration of the Rootpower. She had only ever heard of such a thing from her tutors, so what could Byrnak's brazen demonstration of Wellsource power mean?
Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together, knuckles whitening as she forced the turmoil of her thoughts to recede, allowing the canto of Clarity to grow in strength. Composed once more, she laid calm hands on Keren's face, massaging the temples, stroking the closed eyes.
As she worked, Keren's companion, the wounded boy, mumbled and shifted where he lay, pushing himself up on his good arm. Suviel looked at him and saw in his face a mixture of fear and exhaustion.
"Is he here?" he said in a wavering voice, and Suviel knew immediately that he meant Byrnak. "I heard him...please help me, don't let him do it again, please, oh, please..."
"It's all right," Suviel said soothingly, swallowing her pity and rage. "You're with friends. He can't get you here.We're safe." He relaxed and sank back a little. "What's your name?" she went on.
"Tauric dor-Barledh," he said hesitantly. "My father is...was the Duke of Patrein."
"That's in eastern Khatris," she said. "How did you come to be in Honjir?"
"The warlord Gizehr attacked our keep. He claimed that we were aiding another Mogaun chief, Vashad, but we weren't, we wouldn't dare. My father's priest smuggled me out before the attack began..." His voice broke and tears spilled from his eyes. "They hung the dead from the walls!...My father!..." Weeping, Tauric lay down again, face buried in the crook of his good arm. Suviel felt helpless in the presence of such sorrow and, sensing that Keren was beginning to recover, she reached out to gently stroke the boy's hair.
"In the Mother's name," Keren groaned, holding her head as she sat upright. "What did that bastard do to me?"
"Stole some of your essence," Suviel told her. "Oh, not much, just enough for his purpose." And she told Keren what Byrnak had done, and all that had happened. When she finished, the warrior looked pale and shaken.
"A mirrorchild," she muttered. "That's only a fireside tale."
"You saw Byrnak throw that fireball," Suviel said. "I assume you've never seen him do that before."
"No, I - " Keren paused, warily eyeing her. "That was clever. All right, I rode with Byrnak's warband for a few years, shared his bed, too, for a while. Does that make me untrustworthy?"
Suviel shook her head and indicated Tauric, now semi-conscious again. "You rescued him from whatever foulness was being inflicted on him. That tells me a lot about you." She regarded Keren. "It also gives me some idea of your resilience."
Keren stood up, wiped hands on her grubby tunic and massaged her neck. "So Byrnak is a mage of some kind, like you - "
"No! He's nothing like me!" Suviel said sharply. "What he did was with the aid of the Wellsource. I, however, am a student of the Lesser Power."
"I see," Keren said uncomfortably. "Well, we'd best be on our way. When Byrnak promises revenge, he's usually impatient to taste it."
"The boy Tauric really needs proper tending," Suviel said, bending closer to look at him. "But you're right - it is too dangerous for us to stay here much..."
"We still need somewhere to go," Keren went on. "Somewhere close because I don't think the lad here can stand a long ride. Our escape from Byrnak's camp just about killed him..."
Suviel was not listening. She had squatted down beside Tauric and was carefully brushing the hair away from the back of his neck with trembling hands. And there, exposed to her disbelieving eyes was a purplish-brown birthmark the size of her thumb. It resembled a wolfhawk with its swept-back wings outstretched, and the last time she had seen such a mark was sixteen years ago on the bare shoulder of the Emperor Korregan as the master of the arsenal helped him into his armour before leaving for the plateau of Arengia.
"What's wrong?" said Keren. "Is he - "
"No," Suviel said, her thoughts whirling. "No, he's just sleeping."
She stood, looking down at Tauric.
How could this be?
she wondered. Every member of the Imperial family, no matter how minor, had been hunted down and slaughtered by the Acolytes soon after the Mogaun invasion. Was this boy the result of an Imperial indiscretion, perhaps, sent in secret to be brought up by this Duke of Patrein? He looked to be about seventeen, so it was possible. One thing was certain - she sensed in Tauric not a spark of the mage ability that was the blood heritage of the Imperial line. Clandestine enquiries would have to be made to discover just who he was, and there was only one place in the entire continent where such questions could be asked in safety.
Suviel straightened, breathed in deeply and glanced up at the sky.
"There'll be rain soon," said Keren. She was attending to her and Tauric's horses, tightening their saddles, wiping down their flanks. "Another reason to be on our way. North of here is the Forest of Varadin - that would offer some shelter."
"We should head south," Suviel said, smiling her best wise smile when Keren frowned. "I know a place where we will be safe from Byrnak and his like."
"Really? And what is the name of this wonderful bolthole?"
"In the old tongue it was called Krusivel but you might know of it as the Redoubt."
Keren paused, eyes widening for a moment then narrowing. "Another word out of legend. I suppose the Emperor lives there, waiting to ride out and retake all his lands."
"There are no ghosts there," Suviel said. "Except the ones we carry with us." She studied Keren whose mouth was set in a bitter line as she repacked the saddlebags. "I realise that I'm asking you take a lot on faith. It must be difficult learning how to trust someone, or relearning."
Keren made no answer, buckling the bags shut with a firm grip. Then she sighed and looked Suviel straight in the eye. "Very well," she said simply. "We will go with you. But if he comes to any harm, I will kill you."
Suviel met her level gaze and nodded. "I hear what you say," she said formally. "Now, I think you and I had better lift Tauric onto his horse together."
* * *
Holding the reins of Nerek's horse with his own, Byrnak rode on at the head of his riders as they cantered along a bushy ravine. He was weary to the bone yet driven by an energy that burned in his head like cold fire and gave him strength. He sensed the uneasy looks from his men and heard their whispers, but felt contempt for their fears. What could they know of the changes he was undergoing? It was as if a mighty maelstrom had snatched him into its inexorable inward swirl and was drawing him slowly into its vast heart. They were right to be afraid, for a part of him was afraid too.
He could not help recalling the dread nightmare of the three masked riders and their groaning horses. Had he been possessed by some fragment of the Lord of Twilight back at the chasm? The things he had done...he had not paused to think of creating a ball of fire in his hand, he had merely reached for it and it had appeared. Then there was Keren's double - a calculating fury had come over him and his mind, suddenly quicksilver and pitiless, had sorted through a number of possibilities and decided upon the creation of a mirrorchild. All done with a ruthless and cruel delight, which struck joy and fear into him in equal measure.
He glanced at her swaying drowsily in her saddle, and shivered pleasurably. His thoughts seemed bigger and stronger and the world was less daunting, more willing to be altered, directed. Byrnak grinned, wanting to throw his head back howl with laughter, to dare the mountains, the sky, the day and the night to oppose him...
A horseman, one of the advance scouts, came trotting round a bend in the ravine up ahead, approached Byrnak and reined himself alongside.
"Lord, we found four men in a clearing further along. Their leader says he wishes to speak with you."
"What are they?" Byrnak said, staring into midair as he rode on.
"They dress as merchants," the scout said. "But only their leader leaves his face uncovered."