Free Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) by Maggie Furey

again, he saw sympathy in her
eyes. ‘Be comforted, my children,’ she said, looking from Kea’s tear-stained face to Yinze’s pale and battered one. ‘As I said, this tragedy was not your fault. It was
my duty to keep you safe while you were here, Yinze, and because I failed you have been injured, and all of your hard work of these last months has been destroyed by one of my subjects. Crombec is
repairing the structure of your broken harp – all that remains for you is to imbue it with your magic once more. But is there any way in which I can make recompense?’
    The Wizard was stunned. Despite his involvement in the tragedy, the Queen was apologising to him. Enough guilt still lingered to make that seem very wrong. ‘Your Majesty, I don’t
deserve . . .’
    ‘I mean it,’ Pandion insisted. ‘The honour of the Skyfolk, of Aerillia, is at stake here. I ask again, is there any way in which I can compensate you?’
    Suddenly, Yinze thought of the little white creature that had mewled in panic in Incondor’s hands. ‘Does the cub still survive?’ he asked. ‘The white cub that Incondor
found? If it lives, may I be permitted to keep it? To take it home as a gift for my sister Iriana? Though she is blind, her skill with animals is unsurpassed, and if anyone can raise it, she can. I
know she would love one of the great cats of the mountains.’
    Pandion looked grave. ‘Yinze, do you realise how dangerous those creatures are? How big it will grow?’
    ‘I have no fear for Iriana, Your Majesty,’ Yinze said proudly. ‘Perhaps to compensate for her blindness, she has formed a special, close connection with the minds of beasts,
and has even raised and tamed one of the great eagles of the northern ranges. She would be in no danger.’
    Queen Pandion thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘Very well. So be it. If the cub survives it will be yours. Such rare creatures are said by my people to bring great fortune, but after the
events of this day, I doubt it greatly. May it bring better fortune to your sister.’
    She got to her feet, suddenly looking old and weary. ‘Go now. Rest. As soon as the healers say that Incondor is fit to travel, you will be going home.’

 
     
     
     
4
    ~
FRIENDSHIP
     
     
     
     
    I t was sunset, and at last the Archwizard Cyran had reached the edge of the forest. He was bone weary after a long day of galloping across the
moors, desperate to discover what disaster had befallen his ill-starred emissaries, and now, at the insistence of his escort, Nara and Baxian, who were anxious about the well-being of their horses,
they had stopped to make camp. The Archwizard did not help them with their chores of setting up tents, lighting a fire and seeing to the poor, exhausted mounts. He sat alone beneath a tree, lost in
dark and wretched thought. He was mourning the lost ones: those whose passing he’d felt this morning, his only son Avithan, poor blind Iriana, who had so longed for adventure, and brave
Esmon, the warrior he had sent to guard them. His heart was rent by grief, remorse and guilt, and the terrible pangs of their ending would haunt him to the end of his days. He dreaded the reaction
of his soulmate Sharalind. He, and no other, had sent them to their deaths. How could she ever forgive him?
    He would never forgive himself.
    All he could do was bring their bodies home, and try to discover what dreadful fate had befallen them. He clenched his fists. If the Phaerie had been responsible for Avithan’s death, he
would wreak bloody war upon them such as the world had never seen. A shiver went through him as he recalled the terrible visions that had tormented him for so long – but now, instead of
dread, they brought forth a feeling of resolution. If it was his fate to bring about the horrors that he had tried for so long to avoid, if all that ruin and bloodshed must be on his hands, then so
be it. Justice must be done. Avithan must be avenged.
    Then, even as his mind wrapped