Rhinnatania

Written by Neil Fraser

Rhinnatania sat half-leaning against the elm on the small verdant mound. Her crippled left arm flopped at her side and she turned her head with difficulty to look about with wonder. Psila knelt beside her, brushing the wizardess’ luxuriant hair. She murmured something to her mistress that made the wizardess smile. Karwin sat gurgling beside the two women. Rhinnatania reacted to him with great uneasiness, but it was apparent that Psila had much previous experience with babies. She was no-nonsense but very capable. She also seemed fascinated by his alicorn nubbin.

The Black Advocate stood to one side, staring into nothing. Though Voklaynn knew that he instead stared into the adjoining … place. It was hard to articulate at the best of times. Almost impossible when she was human.

The touch of the cold, freshwater had revitalised Anwyn, and he was laughing softly as he tried to fend off Voklaynn’s “attacks” on him. Finally, she pulled him under, and they twisted together underwater, almost as one physically as she felt them normally to be mentally, emotionally. They surfaced, wrapped yet around one another.

“Shall we get out?” There was no mistaking Voklaynn’s reluctance. “No, Soul-Beloved. Not yet. Why bother? This place is the claim of none of the Powers and is not under Guardianship. There are very likely Lesser Ones here, and they will approach in time. But knowing there is a Guard abiding here, they will not likely be afraid or hostile. It is only your … companion who might prove troublesome.”

There was no mistaking Anwyn’ s disapproval of the Black One. Even if it was not dislike. Or hatred. But it was, at the very least incomprehension!

“Are you able to help this wielder of magic, my Heart?” asked Voklaynn.

“You do not like her, do you?” Anwyn looked at her, head cocked on one side. “I will never know you fully, it seems. Thank the Powers! For that will mean that there will ever be something new for me to discover.”

“She hurts … kills Saurians. She said so.”

“But don’t they come back to life? Not that I am saying it is right to kill them, but at least the one killed is not lost to the world, is he?” Anwyn shrugged. “But, as for helping her, I do not know. She is the owner of a very, very great power that is strange to me. And though I think she wants to be healed – she is conscientious, I think, though she scorns most folk as lesser than her in every sense of the word – the power she has resists my power. It is a rigid, mechanical power. It is not like mine and resists because it does not know that it is bad to do so. I doubt she knows this or can do anything to suppress it. It is so much a part of her. It may be that I shall have to call on one greater than I for aid.”

Then he paused again and looked at her, smiling a quirky smile. Voklaynn felt the waves of his devotion wash from him and knew that he projected it more forcefully than usual. He wanted her to know that what he was about to say was in no way a reflection upon her.

“I think she is a remarkable woman. Despite what she did to Cham’rhann.” There was a deep grief and bewilderment in his voice, his eyes, and his soul. “But then, I believe Cham’rhann stuck his alicorn into her heart so deeply that I do not think she will ever be able to withdraw it in full. I said I think she is a remarkable woman. If I had not reached perfect joyous completion before ever I heard of her, it is just possible I might have considered offering her the Choices.”

“Then you would have died in Cham’rhann’s place, my Heart. I would have been forever desolate and alone, and our beloved Karwin would never have been born. You made the right Choice for all of us. You were never meant for her.”

“Before we rejoin the company, Beloved. It could well be that you do not notice. The others certainly do not, I think. But I am a part of you, and your likeness is etched upon my whole being. Look into the stream.”

The water stilled as he passed a hand over it. Though it still flowed, the surface was now metallic-seeming and gorgeously reflective. Voklaynn had seen a brilliant silver mirror once – most mirrors were bronze – but this watery mirror was finer by far than the silver had been.

“My apologies,” Anwyn said softly. “This will last only a little while. It is not in me to be able to do such a thing for long, even with good intent. Especially to you.” He tenderly caressed the left side of her face, and Voklaynn felt it go wholly numb. It was as well she trusted her Soul. As it was, she saw the tears streaming from his eyes. “Look quickly! Before it is too late,” he said softly, urgently.

Voklaynn looked into the magic mirror. With a slackened, paralysed half-face, she saw looking back at her the very likeness of Rhinnatania as she now was. Oh, to be sure. Voklaynn’s own face was even whiter, her own eyes pink-red and not blue, her own hair straight and not curly, and the stresses in her body almost nonexistent, but otherwise, she was as like the wizardess as to be her twin.

“I had to be sure. I could not quite even see it myself. What are your antecedents, my darling?” Anwyn said softly as her face came back to life.

“I have no idea how this could be, my Heart. I have no knowledge of any family or relatives, certainly not a sister. Perhaps our likeness is coincidental? No matter. She and I are strangers, and I wish to remain so. Wizards have too much power to be trusted.”

Anwyn and Voklaynn rejoined Psila and Rhinnatania. The sick woman was dozing, a smile on the right side of her face. The girl was stroking her hair and gazing at the wizardess, a look of sad, despairing yearning on her face.

“Oh!” Anwyn said softly. “Oh! But they are both women? How…?”

Psila suddenly became aware of them, and of the look on Anwyn’ s face, and jumped to her feet. She hustled towards them and stopped, putting her hands on her hips and glaring.

“If either of you mentions this to her, I’ll … I’ll kill you!”

Her voice was a low, hissed whisper. Then her chin quivered, and she looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

The morning was glorious. The sun stood overhead and fluffy pink-white clouds scudded across the sky.

“Extraordinary,” Rhinnatania said. “I could have sworn I went to sleep upon the grass. Yet here I am in a bed. And the bed is in a little hut. With crystal windows and a door which is a single huge leaf.”

Anwyn smiled. He looked about himself, though there was nothing to be seen. “Well done,” he said. “And thank you.”

“To whom do you speak?”, the wizardess asked.

“To those who feel the burden of hospitality,” he said. “Brownies, en masse. Do not” he added urgently and quietly “give any more thanks or acknowledgement than I already have done. Or they will take offence, and undo all they have done, and more.”

“Good advice,” said a massively deep, rumbling voice. Voklaynn jumped and clutched onto Anwyn. She had heard nothing approach. Anwyn however, was not in the slightest disconcerted. He held onto her hand and simultaneously bowed to the huge sea-green dog that stood outside the door facing them. Anwyn held up his hand.

“No! Rhinnatania. Whatever it is you are about to do, please do not! This is a Grim, and a friend.”

“Dunno about “friend”, Guard,” the dog said. “But it’s true ‘nough that I’m not y’r en’my.”

Voklaynn, now collected again, studied the talking dog carefully. Apart from his colour and his ability to talk, there were other unmistakable signs of Faery about him. She realised that she had become somewhat sensitised to Faerie since being Companion to Anwyn. The Grim was over 15 hands high at the shoulder and massively built. He bore the same muscular relationship to a normal dog, even a giant one, as a troll bore to a well-developed Toleki. His eyes were lambent emerald green and glowed even in the sunlight. His paws were large, even for his size, but she could see no claws on his feet. His tongue, the inside of his mouth, and the inside of his floppy ears were dark blue. He wore an elaborate dark opal and gold earring in his pierced left ear. His teeth were very long and sharp, and his canines protruded from under his lips even when his mouth was closed.

“Whatcha got out there Guard?” he said, pointing with his tail at the Black Advocate. “And here too?” His nose, as black and as wet as that of any more normal hound, pointed at Voklaynn. “Her, she smells like a Snake.”

Voklaynn felt Anwyn’s muscles tense beneath her hand, and she squeezed hurriedly. “Well, Beloved, it’s the truth. I suppose I must smell like a Saurian. I’m around them enough. Though I believe it would take one such as this Grim’s nose here to smell it out.”

The Grim sat and grinned at her. It was a fearsome sight. But her words had worked. Anwyn relaxed and gazed sidelong at her, shaking his head in admiration and hopeless devotion.

“True,” the Grim said. “It’s faint. But it’s not so much a smell of just bein’ aroun’ Snakes, y’unnerstan’ … Still, y’r business is y’r business, an’ y’re wi’ a Guard, s’even if I hadn’t already heard of y’, I’d’ve accepted y’.” He looked about.

Anwyn took the opportunity to lean and whisper in Voklaynn’s ear. “Don’t ask him his name. Tell the others too, when you can! He must volunteer it.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anwyn then said aloud and formally to the Grim. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit? Is this your place?”

The Grim screwed up his eyes. “Well,” he said slowly. “Yes an’ no. I’m sorta … house-sittin’. But y’ don’t need t’ know more ‘n that.”

“Of course not,” Anwyn said smoothly.

“But y’re ‘mportant in th’ Summer Country. ‘Ceptin’ f’r that one.” He pointed with his tail again at the Black Saurian. “An’ there’re Phomori about, raidin’ for th’ first time in th’ lives o’ many trees. There’s lots happenin’ lately. Down south there’s stirrin’. Th’ Trow are risin’ from th’ earth. But they’re comin’ from th’ coastal lands, an’ not from th’ mountain rocks. So mebbe th’ Trow’ve changed.”

“They were a legend,” Anwyn said gravely.

“Not ‘nymore,” the Grim said. “An’ th’ tushen are findin’ a way inta ‘n outa th’ Country. Gods know where they go. An’ th’ Dark-Souled Ones – p’r’aps they’re allies o’ th’ Trow – seem t’ave a way inta ‘n out as well. An’ these wanderin’ Gates. Now it’s said that th’ Jinain are thinkin’ of headin’ south, ‘spite of th’ Sun, ’cause they’ve heard that there’s a chance of a real barney to be had!”

He stood and stretched, then padded over to Voklaynn. She observed that he made no noise whatsoever as he moved. He snuffled loudly at her face.

“Hmmm,” he said cryptically. “Scratch me behind th’ ears.”

Voklaynn smiled, almost in delight. She was used to animals demanding favours of her, but never one with actual words! She scratched as hard as she could with both hands. The Grim’s hair was a nap of warm, soft, plush velvet; not at all like a normal dog’s hair. But then, Anwyn’s fur was nothing whatsoever like a horse’s hair either! The Grim made a moaning growl of satisfaction deep in his throat.

“Ehhhrrrrrrr! Y’ chose well, Guard! She’s got good hands.” He continued. “I’ve heard tragedies ’bout Guards who chose less wisely. Any ‘ow, I’m off t’ patrol th’ bounds. If there’re any Phomoiri or lesser enemies ’bout, I’ll sniff ’em.” He looked deep into Voklaynn’s eyes. “Weird!” he said. “Very Snakeish, bu’ very unSnakeish too!” He shrugged and then whirled about and trotted off. Completely silently.

“My!” Rhinnatania said dryly. But Voklaynn felt certain that the tone concealed some other, quite hidden emotion. “You do have the strangest friends, … Anwyn,” she said.

“But true ones. A Grim is one of the very greatest possible allies to have against the Phomoiri.”

Voklaynn was looking with mild amusement at Psila. The girl was gape-mouthed and awestruck. She was reminded of how sheltered a life Psila must have led until now. Certainly, she would never have had any experience with Faerie!

“He’s so beautiful!” Psila said. With a start, Voklaynn realised that that was so. She had been so busy paying attention to the Grim, to his actions and his words that she had not noticed until the girl pointed it out that in his own way he was indeed beautiful.

“It’s no use,” Anwyn said softly in Voklaynn’s mind. He sighed, and not quite leaned against her. If he had truly done so, he would have knocked her over. Even his mental voice sounded exhausted. Voklaynn buried her face in his glorious fur and allowed herself the luxury of a little weep for him. He nuzzled at her, his soft lips feeling almost human on her neck and cheek.

“What is it?” she asked in her head.

“She resists. She does not know she does, but she does. I have accomplished a little, but … I have never known such power before! I have never known anyone able to resist my power! After all, what I try to accomplish is what virtually all folk truly want for themselves; to be whole and cured.”

“Does she want to be healed?”

Anwyn paused and stroked his alicorn delicately down Voklaynn’s cheek. The silken caress had her close her eyes in gentle ecstasy.

“I think so,” the unicorn at last said. “She feels very loyal to her city, so she will not abandon it, I think. In her own way, she is a Guard too. Though she has had virtually no contact with those who dwell within her Guardianship until Ben and the other ones came along.”

“What then are you going to do, my Soul?” Voklaynn slipped up onto Anwyn’s back and lay along his spine. He moved off into the trees, his every movement a song in her body, in her spirit. He paused, sighed.

“I think I shall have to call upon Dian Cecht,” he said at last. “And that is perilous for a Guard. I do not know what you might have heard of the Healer, but he has a dark and savage side. He slew his son in wrath and misplaced pride when it appeared that the child would in time outstrip the skills of the father. Dian Cecht is very jealous indeed and does not like Guards for we also have the power of Healing. Though he is our superior, to be sure. But I think that he does not accept that we acknowledge that.”

“Then do not call upon him, if he is so perilous,” Voklaynn said urgently.

“If I do not, then Rhinnatania will die in none too long a time. And if she is akin to you, a little part of me will die with her. No, my Soul, I speak to you the truth. The danger to me is far less than is the danger to Rhinnatania if I do not call.”

“But if the Healer so dislikes the Guards, why should he heed your plea?”

“Because I shall humble myself before him, and beg. And he will be intrigued, and shall then take the healing of the patient as a challenge.”

“I do not want you to call him then!” Voklaynn was passionate as she embraced his neck closely. Anwyn stopped and turned his elegant face back to her.

“Then I shall not,” he said. “But does the woman I adore really hate the wizardess this much, that she would condemn her to death?”

Dian Cecht was a tall and thin man. He reminded Voklaynn a little, and uncomfortably, of the Elleen’s cranes in bird form. Even his nose was long, thin and sharp. But his eyes were gleaming steel-grey, cold, intelligent, impatient and arrogant. The healer in Voklaynn guessed he would have no very soothing bedside manner.

He looked at the beautifully built, snug little Brownie hut and sniffed, unimpressed. He glared for a long moment at the Advocate. Unlike Mabhan, he seemed to have no particular difficulty focussing on a saurian but seemed as fond of them as the lesser Power had been. Then he looked at Voklaynn standing with her arm about Anwyn.

Whatever it had been that Anwyn had done to summon Dian Cecht, it had exhausted him anew. She could not remember a time when her lover had been so fatigued for so continuously long a period. She was almost holding him up. He smiled wearily at the Power.

“Greeting, Great One!” he said. “I welcome you here to this place. For I find my abilities wholly inadequate and you are the only one who owns the skills and knowledge to heal the woman patient here within.”

He pointed towards the hut doorway. Only Rhinnatania’s feet could be seen presently, and they were swathed in fleecy blankets. But Voklaynn knew that she would be observing all she could of these happenings with interest and wariness, howsoever a wizard observed such things. Psila sat against the back wall, watching with awe.

It seemed as though Dian Cecht ignored Anwyn’s words. He stared towards but not at Voklaynn, and then narrowed his eyes. He spat to one side and his hand stroked the enormous sickle that hung at his belt. Voklaynn could almost hear what was to come next, and she squeezed her Soul’s arm as hard as she dared.

“What is this clinging to your arm like a limpet? Or worse?” the Healer asked, heavy scorn in his voice. He gave up trying to look at Voklaynn and gazed down his nose at Anwyn.

Voklaynn could feel the white heat of Anwyn’s anger flaming up in their touching souls. But for a miracle, both his face and his voice remained steady and humble. But his muscles twitched and clenched under her soothing hands. She could almost foretell that one day if she were not around, he might die fighting some terrible foe that he thought had cast a slur upon her.

“This is the Completion of my Being, my Soul. As I know you already knew. For is not a Guard truly Healed only when he is Joined?”

“With such an aberration as you, who knows?” Dian Cecht said. He shook his head. “Why the Dagda and the Morrigan are so interested in you – in you both – is beyond me. Were it up to me, I’d snuff out all the unicorns starting with you, and keep the alicorns alone. At least they have a value.”

He pushed past the two and entered the hut. It was going to take a great deal of her energy in the near future to calm Anwyn down, Voklaynn thought grimly. She could actually hear his teeth grind together. She was almost certain she had never known him to be this angry before. She kissed him urgently on the mouth, and he relaxed into her embrace as she had prayed he would.

“Patience, my darling. You are indeed being heroic!” she whispered.

She saw the great Grim facing the hut, his hackles raised. Then he sneered, showing all his teeth, and pointedly lifted his leg against an oak without any actual marking, staring back over his shoulder at the hut. Karina, who lived there, would have been exceedingly angry with him had he marked her tree. Voklaynn smiled at him. He was rough and uncouth, but she wished she could have expressed her opinion of the Healing Power so succinctly. There was a lesson in what a real healer should not be!

In the hut, Dian Cecht was staring at Rhinnatania. Voklaynn was just close enough to hear him whisper “Beautiful lady! Beautiful lady!” Then he went to sit beside her. Psila he completely ignored.

Suddenly, Voklaynn was glad that Dian Cecht had not turned the full force of his attentions upon her. She could literally feel the backwash of the emanations of his personality and charisma from where she was behind him. But the whole force was directed towards the wizardess. Oh, but she had been wrong about his bedside manner! His was a bedside manner that could charm a demon!

She became aware of Anwyn relaxing and even cheering up a little.

“Oh-ho!” he said, direct to her mind. In the Grey Lands, he could not do that when he was in human form. “Here we have a contest, and I think I know who is the one overmatched! This might be worth seeing to the end of, no matter how destructive the outcome.” He kissed the side of her neck hungrily.

Rhinnatania’s eyes seemed more intensely blue than ever as she stared into Dian Cecht’s grey ones. She smiled faintly. Warmly. Dian Cecht’s attitude took an even firmer stance, and he took Rhinnatania’s good hand.

“I will take it from here,” he said. “You may leave.” He waved dismissively over his shoulder. Psila was again apparently overlooked.

“Not that I’m objecting to the holiday my love, but how many days do you think that they’ll remain in there?”

“Patience,” Anwyn said as he carefully wove buttercups into Voklaynn’s hair. “It has barely been more than one yet. For two such folk with two such founts of power and both striving against one another, who knows? It could be many more sunrises and sunsets yet.”

He gestured at Voklaynn’s Black Advocate in irritation. “Why doesn’t he move? Has he forgotten how?”

“He’s a Saurian,” Voklaynn said, as though that answered everything. She rubbed at Anwyn’s lean, muscular chest with both hands. He fumbled with the buttercups.

“The terrible thing,” Anwyn said reflectively after he had caught his breath, “is that answer makes sense now, even to me.” He stopped and went on reluctantly. “Still, I’m glad that he’s about. If anything … should go wrong here and now, I’m not certain of my ability to protect you. Though I am of his.”

He glared at the Black Advocate and Voklaynn realised with stunned amazement that Anwyn was jealous of him!

Karwin was sitting solemnly counting his toes and gurgling nonsense in his own private language. He was under the eyes of both the Grim and Karina, the dryad. She was an older-seeming faerie with none of the erratic flightiness that had seemed to be a part of Laurel. The Grim was lying on his back while Karina vigorously rubbed his chest. Karwin lunged and caught one of his ears. The Grim twisted around in surprise to look at the infant, just as Karwin stuffed what he could of the ear in his mouth and chewed.

Karina collapsed onto the ground laughing, her diaphanous robes riding up every which way. Although she was an “older” dryad, she was still in stunningly good shape. It was just as well Anwyn wasn’t interested. Voklaynn gave a quick look, but her Beloved was very obviously laughing at the sight of a huge Grim being savaged by a little boy. But then he looked at her with such an air of innocence, she knew he knew what she had been worried about, and she blushed.

Then the hut blew up. Psila literally appeared out of nowhere and it was only by complete instinct that Voklaynn managed to grab her shoulders before she fell. Simultaneously the Advocate disappeared from where he had been for so long and reappeared in the instant immediately between Voklaynn and the source of the explosion.

“I didn’t know he could…” she managed to say.

“The brownies will be upset!” Anwyn said. Voklaynn thought him to be a little in shock.

In the remnants of the hut, Rhinnatania stood facing Dian Cecht. She was dressed in gorgeous gold-embroidered pale saffron-yellow and cream best wear, but best wear owing much to the female fashions of the Summer Country. Dian Cecht’ s hair was standing on end and the tips of his ears and all of his fingers were smoking orange smoke. A livid red handprint was imprinted on his cheek.

“Oh, my Oath!” Anwyn said and made as though to scoop Voklaynn up in his arms and dash towards their son. The Black Advocate made a noise that sounded like disgust to Voklaynn, but not to the White Saurian, and “made a transposition”. Voklaynn’s head ached with trying to articulate the Saurian concept. Karwin was sitting at Voklaynn’s feet. Surprised, he began to wail at the removal of his latest plaything.

Karina had catapulted herself back into her tree in fear, and the Grim was making a cautious way towards the others. He had instantly accommodated to the child’s disappearance. He was also intent on making no sudden movement that might draw the interest of either of the two at the centre of everyone’s attention.

“I healed you, woman!” Dian Cecht thundered, though he looked nothing like a healer currently. Lime washed its way through his hair stiffening it even more, and a pair of heads appeared at his belt to hang pale-faced, testaments to the fact that this Healer was also a warrior. A huge spear with a jagged-edged bronze head flickered into being in his hand. His shirt disappeared to display a woad-painted chest.

“And I am exceedingly grateful and in your debt,” Rhinnatania said, completely calm and very level voiced. “I even thank you for these clothes. Until now I had no idea that yellow would ever suit me.” She held up her right forefinger and a red light gleamed at its tip. “But what I owe you is not just yours to demand. It must be a price agreeable to us both. I will not be raped.”

“Oh, my Oath!” Anwyn said again.

“Powers, but I hope she knows what she’s doin'” the Grim said. He had just arrived at their side.

“How can she?” Anwyn asked.

“Oh, but my Mistress knows exactly what she’s doing,” Psila said with great satisfaction.

Anwyn and the Grim stared incredulously at her. Psila smiled faintly and offered to take Karwin from Voklaynn, then smiled again quite cheerfully when her offer was declined. Karwin started sucking at his mother’s hair, obviously believing that this was a quite acceptable substitute for the Grim’s ear.

“Raped?” Dian Cecht bellowed. Then very suddenly his voice returned to an even level. It now sounded conversational, even though his eyes still bulged. “The Powers do not rape. They have no need to.”

“And I even bet he believes that,” Psila murmured. “Aren’t there bastards like that everywhere?” The Grim looked up at her and laughed doggily and silently.

“But the Powers do take what is owed to them, and they will not be gainsaid. You owe me!”

“But I do not owe you that,” Rhinnatania said. She was still very calm, even aloof. The crimson flame burned brighter and taller at her fingertip. “We were not able to come to an agreement before the Healing. To be sure, I am uncertain that I would have been able to, but we can now.”

“I have told you what you owe me.”

“And I have told you that you will not have that!” Voklaynn had heard such steely resolution in a voice before. It never presaged easy times.

“What’s going to happen now?” she asked of Anwyn. It was the Grim who replied.

“Bloody big bloody trouble, is what!” he said bluntly.

With his spear-unencumbered hand, Dian Cecht reached out for Rhinnatania’s arm. It was a strike of blinding speed, yet he missed catching her. Instead, he yelled in pain as the red light leapt out and coruscated about his whole body for an instant. The shaft of the spear turned to ash and the heavy head thudded to the ground.

“Be warned,” Rhinnatania said. She sounded almost sorrowful. “I will not submit to your sexual demands. I will pay you what I owe you, but it will be a price that is agreeable to us both.”

“You know the price, and you shall pay!” Dian Cecht was shouting again. He grew giant-sized suddenly – five metres more of height in a second, and reached for her with hands that were larger than her whole torso. Then he was flying backwards through the air and landed on a young oak, smashing it to splinters.

“Thank whatever that di’n’t belong t’ no’un,” the Grim remarked.

Dian Cecht staggered to his feet, obviously dazed. Like a dog chasing his own tail, he turned in place, struggling to see his own back. Voklaynn winced at the sight of the bloody ruin of his back, and at the jagged shards of timber that protruded from the horrible wounds. Psila muffled her own cry with a fist in her mouth.

“He should be dead!”

“He is a Power, Psila,” Anwyn said gently. “And one of the great ones, at that. But I never imagined such might in a mortal!” He stared at Rhinnatania in wonder.

Dian Cecht sobbed in fury and anger. A halo of silver and blue fire played about his body, and the chunks of wood popped from his back like seeds from a pod. Some impaled themselves in other trees from the force he ejected them with. Blood flowed from the gory mess, but then slowly trickled to a halt. Voklaynn did not know how much blood a Power could afford to lose, but Dian Cecht had lost a lot in his landing.

Rhinnatania waited calm and serene. Her entire attention was fixed on the staggering, shaken Power. It was as though at the moment, none of the others existed. It was as well, Voklaynn thought. To be distracted would be fatal just now. But surely Rhinnatania was doomed, even if she wasn’t distracted? Were the Powers not akin to the very Gods?

“That’s it,” Dian Cecht said. He brushed himself down. Once more he was calm.

“I don’t think he’s completely sane,” Voklaynn said in a very quietly whispered sudden insight.

“He’s not at all used to being defied,” Anwyn said. That was hardly an answer or an explanation, but Voklaynn left the point for the moment.

“That’s it,” the Healer repeated. “Now I will kill you. Then I will take your miserable corpse and resurrect it. And then you’ll dance to whatever tune it is I decide to play!”

He made a flicking gesture with one hand and a vast sheet of unseen but massively felt energy brutalised Rhinnatania. Voklaynn could see the many layers of protective magic surrounding the wizardess being stripped away, delicate layer by delicate layer. And she also knew when the last layer was gone Rhinnatania would die.

Overhead, the sky was darkening and the clouds were turning a muddy brown. Underfoot the grass was dying and the flowers blackening and turning to putrid ash. Around them, the trees were shrinking away and their leaves were beginning to die. A foul smell contaminated the air.

Rhinnatania’s hands were busy weaving something from the space between them, even as she was being battered and her clothes were beginning to fray and rot from her. Though her face was still calm and even smiling a little, Voklaynn had the sudden insight that the wizardess knew that she was going to be too late in whatever it was she was trying to do, and knew that she was going to die.

“No!” Psila whimpered.

Before Voklaynn could do anything, the youth dashed out from the sanctuary and started towards the duellists. The Grim instantly leapt upon her, landing against her back and knocking her sprawling to the ground. Then he carefully set himself and whacked his jaws against the side of her head even as she was attempting to turn over and grapple him.

“Wow!” he said. “Cute pup. Bu’ whatta hard head!” He collapsed atop her.

There were so many things to watch, and Karwin and Anwyn to protect although it seemed Anwyn felt that it was she and Karwin who were the ones who had to be protected, that Voklaynn almost missed seeing the apparition.

It was a unicorn that appeared from nowhere, and he leapt directly into the path of the Power.

He was a handsome dark palomino with golden hooves, and he was translucent. He was a little smaller than Anwyn, though his horn was somewhat longer and definitely darker in its opalescence.

The ghostly Guard momentarily absorbed the energy of Dian Cecht in full, and then the unicorn was again gone.

As he vanished, Voklaynn (almost dispassionate now from the overwhelming of her senses with all that was happening at once) noted that his mouth had been open wide. But she could not tell if it had been in agony, perhaps in some sort of greeting, or in utter fury.

Rhinnatania used the respite the unicorn had given her. Had she even realised, seen what had happened? Voklaynn had no idea. The wizardess’ fingers finished weaving the spell she had been attempting, and then a huge gold and ebony leopard sprang from out of her very body and landed full upon the Power. Like the unicorn it was translucent, but from the way Dian Cecht staggered back and fell, it was in no way immaterial.

It ravaged the Power’s head and body while Dian Cecht writhed and cried out in silence. The leopard ripped the protective magic of the Power away with apparently far more ease than his magic had destroyed Rhinnatania’s. Scraps and shreds of visible magic whined and hummed about the clearing and lay upon the ravaged landscape, glowing and shrinking slowly with tiny whines of pain as they faded. Dian Cecht himself then withered and faded as the last of his protection was torn from him, and the leopard started tearing chunks of his flesh from him.

Voklaynn watched as the Power’s struggles became feebler and he became smaller and bloodier. Then he gave a single, terrible shriek, one that echoed throughout the whole of the Summer Country and Beyond, and his body twisted and curled up. And then he died. He died and he vanished, along with the watchful spirit-leopard that had been his bane.

“There’s an enormous amount of available mana in this place,” Rhinnatania said a little vaguely. She gestured about herself. “And wasn’t all that just the most extraordinary thing?” She collapsed in place suddenly as though her feet, and then her legs had sunk straight down into a hole.