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

without warning, leaving them grieving, anxious and confused.
    The first death they had experienced had been that of Esmon. They had all felt it: the brief, wrenching stab of agony that all Wizards experienced at the passing of another. Chathak and his
Dragon counterpart, Atka, had arrived later that same night. Because Chathak had been utterly devastated by the passing of his brother, they had been teleported to Tyrineld by a concerted effort of
the Dragonfolk. Ionor, speeding through the night with the Leviathan, had reached the city the following morning with his fellow Leviathan Mage Lituya, to find out that Cyran had already left at
dawn with a force of warriors to search for his son and Iriana. Then a few days later, only this morning, Yinze had arrived with Kea, in time to feel the passing of Iriana and Avithan. Though the
blow had been faint and muted with distance, they had all known when their friends had left the world, and had mourned them as gone for ever.
    They were absolutely stunned when, near sunset, they felt Iriana return from death. This was something that had never happened in the history of the Wizards, and the companions’ joy in her
mysterious regeneration was greatly tempered by concern. Surely no one could go through such an experience unscathed and unchanged. What would they find when they met Iriana again? One thing was
for sure – she would never be the same.
    Whatever had become of Iriana, however, one thing was certain. Avithan had not come back with her, and they were grieving for the loss of a beloved brother.
    It had always been natural for the group to share their joys and triumphs, and now they did the same with their sorrow. The other Magefolk that Yinze, Chathak and Ionor had brought back with
them from far-off lands all understood and respected this, and had formed a group of their own, gathering together elsewhere in the city, united in their strangeness, though they could not be
physically present in the same location.
    Lituya, the Leviathan, had made his home in the quieter northern bay, away from the busy harbour. A special, heated house for Atka of the Dragonfolk had been built nearby, with a flat rooftop
that could be screened from the wind, so that she could go up there to catch the sun and feed. The Skyfolk Mage Kea, having discovered an immediate rapport with Thara and Melisanda, was staying
with the Wizards in Iriana’s house but, respecting her hosts’ grief, she had spent a lot of time that afternoon with Lituya and Atka, sitting on the roof of the Dragon’s new home
while the Leviathan sported in the bay below, and Atka sunned herself during the daylight, and curled up in her heated quarters at sundown.
    Their conversations were, of necessity, conducted at a distance, in mindspeech, but the strangers needed such a bond. All three felt a little lonely and out of place here in Tyrineld. There had
been no Archwizard Cyran to welcome them, his soulmate was closeted away, mourning the loss of Avithan, and only a scant handful of people apart from the Heads of the Luens knew of the
visitors’ existence at all. The entire city seemed to be in a state of sorrow, unsettled and confused, and until Cyran came back they were simply marking time, their thoughts with their
Wizard friends across the bay, for they were worried about their counterparts, who had become close friends over the past months while the Wizards had worked with them in Aerillia, in Dhiammara and
beneath the ocean.
    ‘I wish we could do something to help them.’ Kea glanced down through the glass skylight at the golden dragon, cosily curled up on her bed in her heated building, and picked moodily
at a piece of yellow lichen on the roof.
    ‘I agree.’ Atka lifted her great head to look up at the winged Mage above her. ‘I hate to see Chathak so devastated. He was always so cheerful and lively back in Dhiammara, but
now he won’t even talk to me. I have never seen this side of him before, and