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"What about my son? He needs me and besides, I've got a living to make!"
Jarvas looked at her gravely and shook his head. "Not in Nexis," he told her. "Not anymore."
Chapter 13
Incondor's Lament
The great cat limped across the shattered rocks of the valley, her faltering feet trailing smears of blood across the cruel
stones. Her massive form, dwarfed by the desolate immensity of the mountains, seemed pitifully frail to Anvar; her
protruding ribs cast stripes of light., and shade across the dull, matted coat that hung on her sunken flanks. Her
muzzle, where her teeth were clenched grimly around the Staff of Earth, was covered in blisters and scabs, and saliva
hung from her jaws in thick, slimy strands.
"Shia! Great Gods, Shia!" Anvar cried, unable to bear the sight of the great cat's suffering.
She glanced up at him, her yellow eyes dull and glazed. "What do you want?" she said briefly, without a pause in her
painful, monotonous plodding.
"Shia! Where are you? Are you all right? Dear Gods, what happened to you?"
The great cat snarled around her mouthful of Staff. "Do I look all right?" she snorted. "To answer your other stupid
question what happened to me is that this thing I'm carrying is trying to kill me by slow degrees but it won't
succeed, whatever it thinks . . . And it does think though not in the usual sense. The process is more like
instinct since I cannot wield it, it tries to destroy me. You Magefolk should know about that..." She staggered,
grunting with pain, and began to speak again as she resumed her weary pacing. "As to where I am I'm on my way!
Aurian asked me to bring this wretched object to you, so that you can escape Aerillia, and go to her aid...
The valley seemed to be filling with silvery mist that streamed along its floor like a relentless tide. Anvar was losing
Shia. . , She was vanishing before his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway?" she snapped, "Stop this nonsense at
once and get back into your body! A fine fool I'll look if I drag this horrendous thing all the way to Aerillia and you're
dead! Don't you dare let Aurian down that way! She needs you...
Shia and the valley were gone. All that remained was the clinging, silvery fog . . . Which cleared to show him Aurian,
huddled by the fire in the squalid little upper room in the Tower of Incondor, the weary droop of her shoulders
betokening utter dejection. Anvar's heart went out to her. "Aurian- . . ." he called, longing to comfort her, but without
her powers, she could not hear him. After a time, she lifted her head, blinking, and he saw the yellowing bruises on her
face, left by Miathan's hand. Rage boiled within him. It was vital that he escape and rescue her but how? What had
Shia said? Get back into your body ... drag this thing all the way to Aerillia and you're dead . . .
Anvar gasped. "Is that what's happening to me? But I can't die now!" Frantic, he blundered through the viscous fog,
seeking a way back to his body, more panic-stricken with each moment that passed. Help met someone oh Gods, I
can't get out . . . Help me, please . . .
"Come on, lad brace up!" That gruff, gentle voice, with its memories of reassurance and long-ago kindnesses, cut
through Anvar's terror, warming his heart and stiffening his resolve like a draft of strong spirits. Anvar's terror
vanished as fierce joy exploded through him.
"Forral? Forral, is it really you? But you're "
"Yes, I am dead and so are you, pretty nearly, which is why I can reach you."
Anvar could almost see him now the glimpse of a broad, shadowy figure through the swirling mists, the ghostly
glimmer that could only be that quick, flashing smile.
"Come on, lad, we must get you back quick, before they find out what I'm up to. I'm not supposed to be doing this, you
know!"
There it was that familiar wicked chuckle. Anvar did not have to see Forral to know that the old twinkle was back in
his eyes just as it used to be when he and Vannor had done something to outwit the Archmage. A callused hand
engulfed his own . . . How can I feel this, if we're supposed to be dead? the Mage thought wildly , . .
There was a whirling sensation and Anvar found himself back in the cave, looking down at his own gray face,
pinched and gleaming with fever. His body was twisting fretfully beneath the furs, and a white-winged figure knelt
over him, frowning, one hand on his heart,
"Better get in there quick you don't have long!' Forral's voice advised him. Though he could not see the swordsman,
Anvar felt the pressure of arms around his shoulders, embracing him hard. Forral's voice was pleading: "For the sake
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