Eyes of silver, bark and steel

Forgiving is the grief you feel.

Something smashed into Ferrian so hard that the world and all thought vanished. When he gradually became aware of himself again, all he could feel was pain, pounding through his body. His first thought – when he could think again – was: I've hit the ground and broken my back. I'm dying.

Or perhaps, he thought disjointedly, the demons have caught me. Did it hurt to have your soul ripped out?

He floated in the blackness, waiting for the pain to go away, waiting to slip into oblivion…

A harsh sound disturbed his dark dream. He realised thickly that it was a voice, calling to him. He struggled to open his eyes.

Being awake was not an improvement. The world seemed all wrong… dizziness flooded him and his vision swayed ominously.

"Ferrian!" a voice said again. "Wake up!"

Ferrian blinked and tried to focus. The dizziness slowly subsided and his vision became clear once more.

He was surprised to discover that he was not lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, but in fact hanging vertically, and that the hard rock that had smashed into his back was a cliff wall.

A great mass of white water was churning beside him, flicking spray into his face.

He looked up dazedly. The mouth of the cleft was filled with shadow and swirling smoke, but elsewhere the air was sun-drenched and clear, and the only shadows were those cast by the mountains. It seemed that the demon-wraiths were unwilling to venture out of their domain.

Captain Sirannor was clinging to the rope just above him, water trickling off the hem of his long coat.

Ferrian looked down and saw Commander Trice hanging a few feet below him. He had lost his hat and his hair was plastered across his face. He watched Grisket take out a knife and begin cutting the rope.

A rush of alarm filled Ferrian until he realised there was a rocky path cut into the side of the cliff just below Grisket's feet.

The switchback trail Captain Sirannor had spoken of.

Ferrian felt the weight on the end of his rope vanish abruptly as Grisket cut through and dropped safely onto the path. Ferrian fumbled in his belt for his own knife, and was dismayed to find that his hands were shaking badly. He pulled the knife free, but lost his grip and it fell away.

Grisket only just managed to throw himself out of the way as the knife clattered onto the path. "Watch what you're doing!" he yelled angrily. "I didn't survive this blasted pass just to be killed by your bloody stupidity!"

Ferrian tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, but it would not budge. "S- sorry!" he stammered.

Above him, Sirannor drew his sabre with his left hand and twirled it to get a better grip. He leaned down and chopped neatly through Ferrian's rope.

It was not a long drop, but Ferrian landed awkwardly and stumbled, banging his knee, adding another ache to his already extensive collection. He slid over to the rock wall and rested his back against it, not bothering to get back up.

Sirannor had the furthest distance to fall, but he landed like a cat. He sheathed his sabre, then picked up Ferrian's knife and handed it back to him. Ferrian managed a weak 'thanks'.

A silence fell as they all rested and caught their breath. Captain Sirannor lowered himself wearily onto the path beside Ferrian. No one spoke for a long time.

Ferrian looked down at the knife he still held loosely in his hand. His pale, distorted reflection stared back. It reminded him - with an unpleasant lurch - of the twisted faces of the demons. Except this demon had eyes like two tiny mirrors.

He closed his eyes and put his knife away.

His eyes. He hated them. Why couldn't he have ordinary brown eyes? Or at least proper grey ones like Captain Sirannor's? Why did he have to be such a freak?

His vision began to blur and crystallise. He crossed his arms over his knees and rested his forehead on them so that the others could not see his face. A tear managed to leak out despite his determination and rolled into the groove beside his nose.

Aari was dead because of him. Because of this stupid magic inside him. They had all nearly died in the pass, just so he could save a few days on a mission that was probably doomed to fail anyway. How many others were going to suffer because of this curse?

"Do you want me to look, Commander?" Ferrian heard Sirannor say from beside him. He wiped his tears away hastily and glanced up.

Commander Trice was standing in the middle of the path, staring at the edge of the cliff. "No!" he said sharply, glaring at the Captain. "Don't patronise me!"

Despite his words, he hesitated a moment longer, running his hand over his beard. Then he took a deep breath, stepped purposefully to the edge of the path, and looked over.

Sirannor and Ferrian watched his face carefully, but his expression did not change. "Can't see anything," he said shortly, and turned abruptly away. "He might have been washed further down the valley."

The thought of Aari's body being swept down the valley made Ferrian feel sick and his throat ache with fresh emotion. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else.

As though Sirannor had sensed Ferrian's thoughts, he changed the subject. "How far down to the next ledge?" he asked quietly.

"Thirty feet or so," Grisket replied, joining them heavily by the rock wall. "Too far to jump, unless you like the idea of breaking your neck, and we've run out of rope."

They sat in gloomy silence for awhile, listening to the pounding of the falls and watching the sun drift slowly westwards until it was glaring right in their faces. After a time, Sirannor rose and began wandering along the path, looking for a way down.

Ferrian stared into the rushing water beside him and noticed two grey, lichen-encrusted posts embedded in the trail at the edge of the falls. He got up, wincing as his bruises protested, and wandered over to them. Anything was better than sitting around listening to his morbid thoughts.

As he came closer, he could see that the posts were the remains of an ancient bridge that had once spanned a break in the trail. He peered over the edge and saw that a tangle of ropes and wood were still dangling from the posts. The planks looked freshly splintered, as though they had been broken very recently. The bridge had probably been knocked down with the initial surge of water.

He crouched on the edge of the gap and grasped one of the ropes, tugging on it experimentally. It seemed fairly secure. He looked back down at the mangled bridge and wondered if it was strong enough to hold his weight.

At the sound of footsteps on the path behind him he looked over his shoulder. "Captain, do you think we could climb down this way?" he asked.

Sirannor walked to the edge of the gap and leaned over. Then he, too, took one of the ropes and tested its strength. "Rope seems secure," he said. He considered the bridge for a moment longer and then turned and called to Commander Trice. Grisket joined them at the break.

"Ferrian should go first: he's the lightest," Sirannor suggested.

"You willing to go first?" Grisket asked Ferrian.

Ferrian nodded and sat down on the edge of the gap, spray from the falls spattering his chest like rain. Grisket and Sirannor supported him until he had a firm grip. The ropes creaked slightly, but held his weight.

Once he had a grip, climbing down was actually quite easy. There were plenty of knots and loops of rope to hold on to.

The ropes ended two feet from the ground. Ferrian let go and dropped carefully onto the slippery rocks, then moved out onto the path. "I'm down!" he yelled. His voice seemed to echo through the entire valley.

Ferrian watched Commander Trice climb onto the makeshift ladder, and then turned and gazed around him. The valley was silent and peaceful and filled with sunlight. The ledge he was standing on looked almost identical to the one he had just left, but to his relief the switchback trail ran on unbroken to the base of the cliff. They should not have any more problems getting down.

He turned back to watch Grisket's descent when something at the base of the rock wall beside him caught his eye. He glanced down at it and then froze.

For a long minute he stood paralysed, staring at the thing. Finally he forced himself to walk forward and pick it up.

It was a feather.

A long, white flight feather with a bright orange tip that shimmered in the afternoon light. It was much too big to have come from a bird. But Ferrian knew it didn't belong to a bird. He knew whom it had belonged to.

He stared at the feather, feeling his heart thumping in his chest, echoing through his body like a drum in a cathedral. He was afraid to raise his eyes, afraid he would see more feathers or… worse…

Grisket stepped out onto the path. When he caught sight of Ferrian he stopped dead. For a moment he just stared at the feather in Ferrian's hand. Then he came slowly forward.

"Let it go, lad," Grisket said quietly.

But Ferrian couldn't let it go. He couldn't seem to make his fingers work. He couldn't bring himself to look up into Grisket's face.

Grisket placed his hand on Ferrian's shoulder, but did not speak.

"If I knew you liked my… feathers so much, I would have… given you some," a voice said.

Ferrian and Grisket both whirled as one. Their mouths dropped open.

Sergeant Aari'Zan stood a little further down the path, supporting himself with one arm on the rock wall. His clothing was torn to shreds and he was covered in huge, angry bruises. His wings were a mess. They trailed muddy and broken on the ground behind him, the feathers that remained sticking up at all angles. Despite his terrible appearance, however, his eyes were strangely bright.

"Aari!" Ferrian and Grisket cried at the same time.

Captain Sirannor, who was halfway down the bridge ladder, leapt the rest of the way and bolted out onto the path. He skidded to a halt and stared in astonishment.

Grisket sprinted forward and caught Aari as the Angel collapsed. "Aari!" he cried again, his voice trembling with emotion. "Aari, lad, you're alive!"

Aari gasped and winced as Grisket threw his arms around him. "Not for much longer if you… don't let go…" Aari said painfully.

Ferrian and Sirannor raced along the path and dropped into a crouch either side of Grisket. The Commander was still clutching Aari tightly, and his shoulders were shaking. Ferrian realised suddenly that he was silently sobbing

Aari realised this too, and had to fight to keep his own tears in check. "Grisket," he gasped, "it's all right… I'm not dead…"

At last Grisket regained control of himself and pulled away, taking deep breaths to steady himself. "Ferrian," he said shakily, "do you have any medical supplies?"

Ferrian hurriedly removed his backpack and began pulling waterlogged supplies out of it.

Grisket began carefully checking Aari's injuries. "How badly are you hurt?" he asked anxiously. Aari's face was very pale and there was a long red graze across his left cheek where the skin had been scraped raw. He was breathing heavily, obviously in a great deal of pain. "My… wings," he panted. "I think they're… broken, I can't… feel them…"

"Lean over, lad," Grisket instructed.

Aari leaned forward gingerly, grimacing in pain. Grisket looked over his wings sombrely. They looked as though they had been crushed. His back was streaked with trails of dried blood.

"How bad is it?" Aari said to the path. "I will be able to… fly again, won't I?"

Grisket and Sirannor exchanged worried glances. "Not any time soon, you won't," the Commander replied grimly.

"How on Arvanor did you survive?" Ferrian asked as Sirannor and Grisket went off to make splints for Aari's wings using planks from the broken bridge. He still could not believe that Aari was here talking to him, battered and bruised, but alive.

Aari shook his head. "I have no idea," he replied. "I remember… the water crashing into me…" He swallowed and shivered as though a sudden chill breeze had swept the cliff. "Then I… woke up over there… tangled in some ropes…" he pointed towards the falls.

Ferrian looked back to where Sirannor and Grisket were working, and a look of sudden realisation crossed his face. "You were the one who knocked down the bridge!" he said. "It must have broken your fall!"

Aari merely nodded and did not speak. Ferrian could tell from his expression what the Angel was thinking: the bridge had broken much more than his fall.

They patched up Aari as best they could with the supplies they had. Ferrian found a first-aid satchel in his pack that contained herbs, ointment, razor blades and bandages. He gave Aari a mixture of powdered willow bark and water from the falls to ease his pain as Grisket bound his shattered wings firmly against his back with bandages.

Apart from his wings and some nasty bruising, Aari did not appear to have sustained any major wounds, but Grisket was worried he might have internal injuries they could not see. He suggested they get him to a healer as soon as possible.

"What about the mission?" Aari asked, wincing as Sirannor and Grisket helped him to his feet.

"Captain Sirannor, Ferrian and I will continue to Crystaltina," Grisket told him. "You, my lad, will remain in Sunsee until a healer has seen to you, and then return to Forthwhite."

Aari looked appalled. "What?" he exclaimed. "But... but it was my idea!"

Commander Trice's face was stern. "Exactly," he said as he started down the path.

"But, Commander!"

“ 'But' nothing, Sergeant!"

Aari was furious. He shrugged off Sirannor's supporting hand and staggered painfully forward. "I'm not a kid!" he yelled at Grisket's back. His voice echoed alarmingly around the mountain walls.

Grisket stopped. He was silent for a moment before turning around. When he spoke, his voice was iron. "No, you're not," he said. "You're a Freeroamer. And I am your Commander, and those are your orders!"

Aari looked desperately to the others for support, but Sirannor's face was granite and Ferrian merely shrugged helplessly.

Aari fell into a sullen silence for the remainder of the trek down the cliff.

"You need me," Aari insisted stubbornly as they stopped for a rest at the bottom of the path. "I know more about sorcerers than—"

"Sergeant, I don't care if you're the world's foremost authority on sorcerers, you are not taking any further part in this mission. Is that understood?"

For a moment the flare that passed between Aari's eyes and Grisket's could have melted stone. Finally, the Angel looked away and sighed in resentment. "Yes, Sir," he muttered bitterly.

"Good."

"Commander?"

"What?"

"I believe this belongs to you." Captain Sirannor held out something black, crumpled and sodden in his hand. It was Grisket's hat.

Grisket took the hat with a rather forlorn expression on his face. The long striped feather had been snapped in two. He slid it out of its band and stared at it regretfully.

A thought occurred to Ferrian. "Why don't you use this, Commander?" he said, pulling something out of his belt. It was Aari's feather.

Commander Trice hesitated, and glanced at the Sergeant.

Aari glanced up when he realised they were all looking at him. "Whatever," he said disinterestedly.

Grisket wrung out his hat, took the feather and wedged it firmly into the band. He settled the hat on his head, and for the first time that day his eyes flickered with familiar confidence.

He nodded wordlessly to them, and they turned their backs on the horrors of Demon Heights and headed west towards the setting sun.