On Wings of Magic

by Andre Norton

  The other girls ooh'd and aah'd when Bird finished her story.

  “That'th wonderful, Bird. Could you thee what'th happening with my Mama and Papa? If I helped you, I mean? I'd let you hear inthide my head, tho you could do it.”

  “Maybe. But I don't have anything to look into.”

  “Would this do?” Flame poured a little water into the cup and handed it to Bird.

  “I don't know,” Bird said doubtfully, “but I could try.”

  She looked into the cup, tilting it so the water could catch the light. Mouse watched intently, wishing it were her Mama that Bird was trying to see. Somehow Bird's appearance changed, and she knew the very moment when Bird “went deep.”

  “I see something!” Bird exclaimed. “Does your Mama wear trousers like a man, and carry a sword?”

  “No, of courth not.”

  “That's my Mama!” Mouse exclaimed. Heedless of her aching head, she scrambled over the straw to where Bird knelt, and peered into the cup. “I know it! I just know it! Show me how to do it, Bird. Please!”

  “Oh, it's gone!” Bird said. She glared at Mouse. “You ruined it.”

  “But I just know it was my Mama. I heard her, and now you saw her! She's here, she's in Alizon, I just know she is.”

  “You're crazy.”

  “I'm not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Star said. “Mouse, you've been talking about your Mama ever since you started telling us about that other voice you thought you heard. She can't be here. It's impossible.”

  “I did hear another voice. It sounded like Mama, even though it sounded like the Guardian, too, a little. I just know that Mama is near, and that she's come to get me. And even if I'm wrong, even if I'm crazy like Bird said, none of us would have known what each other could do and we wouldn't have learned anything if I hadn't told you about hearing her. Maybe the things each of us can do will help us. How far away did you have to be to push, Star?” Mouse asked.

  Star looked at her, frowning a little. Then her expression changed and Mouse knew without hearing or using mindtouch that she understood what Mouse was driving at. “Not very close at all. Do you mean I should push, and help the next one of us who goes into the Kolder room?”

  “I think it's the only way we can keep from giving in.”

  “Well, it's worth trying,” Star said. “I don't know if I can do it all by myself, though. And what if I'm the one who's next?” Then she answered her own question. “Of course. I'll teach everyone how, just like you did with that hearing of yours. We all ought to teach each other how we do things.”

  Mouse closed her eyes, relieved. The idea was out, finally, even if she hadn't been the one to voice it. There was still something wrong, though. She couldn't think about it. Her head still hurt too much.

  Bird laughed. “What good does making a kitten out of straw do us? Except to pass the time, I mean.”

  “I don't know,” Mouse said stubbornly. “But Cricket can make people believe she looks like somebody else, and Lisper can make people think nobody was there at all.”

  Bird glanced at Lisper, and as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud, Mouse heard her say, A lot of good that will do us.

  “It will do some good,” Star said, and Mouse realized she had heard as well. “Lisper can teach us how, just like Mouse taught us how to hear the way she does.”

  “Well, suppose we could turn ourselves into shadows and walk right out the door the next time the Hounds come for us,” Cricket said. “What about Mouse and Flame? How can we manage? They can't walk.”

  “I can so,” Flame said stoutly.

  Star ignored her. “We'll wait until they're better.”

  “By that time,” Cricket pointed out, “somebody else will be sick. Even sicker, if the Kolder do what Mouse said they were going to do.”

  “Oh.”

  Suddenly, the thing that had been bothering Mouse became clear enough in her head that she could tell the others. “I heard voices when the Kolder were working on me, and I was the one who could hear with my mind. I think that means something.”

  “Maybe. But what about Flame?” Cricket said.

  Star's eyes narrowed. “Maybe it's the Kolder machine, turning our, our talents against us. In that case, Flame's ability wasn't something it could fasten on, that's all.”

  “Then we've hurt ourselves and not helped, by sharing what we can do!” Bird cried, horrified.

  Every eye turned toward Bird; what horrors would she see when she was entangled in the Kolder machine?

  “No, I don't think so,” Star said slowly. “I think we might be stronger together than we are separately.”

  “My Mama will come for us,” Mouse said. “She'll save us.”

  “Oh, hush,” Star said. She sounded more tired than irritated. “Don't hold out hope for us when there isn't any. The best we can do right now is learn and practice each other's abilities, and try to work together so we can hold out when we're under the Kolder machine.” She shivered, and Mouse caught a glimpse of what Star was thinking: herself, lying helpless on the table in the Kolder laboratory, screaming while the Kolder pushed sharpened wires into her.

  Mouse knew that Star was right. Even if they could manage to escape, they couldn't leave anyone behind, and despite her brave words, Flame was only in slightly better condition than Mouse was.

  “Yes, Star,” she said. “The hearing and the push you do when you share your strength—that's what we ought to concentrate on. That's what we'll need most, until the Kolder are through with us.”

  The other girls shuddered, knowing as well as Mouse did herself, that the only way the Kolder would be through with them would be when they had bent to the Kolder will, or were dead.

  Eleven

  I

  Yareth and Weldyn stalked through the corridors, falcons on fists, at the ready. Eirran had never seen Yareth like this before, not even when they had been battling with the beast in the Barrier Mountains. There they had been overmatched. Here he was in his element, doing what he had been born for—a confident, surefooted warrior, unafraid, eager for battle, going side by side with another Falconer fully his equal. It was a sight to daunt an entire company of Hounds, a sight to inspire confidence in one who fought beside them. Eirran followed close on their heels, glancing frequently over her shoulder, expecting any moment to see a hundred Hounds erupt in pursuit. Even the bold Falconers couldn't prevail when outnumbered like that. But, so far, their luck seemed to be holding.

  Down this hallway, through that door, up a short flight of stairs, following the directions Flame and Jenys had given them. They were in another part of the complex now, on the top floor of a large stone building set against the castle wall. Eirran remembered passing by the place during their headlong dash across the inner ward toward the northeast tower, toward the spot where she thought she had heard her child calling to her. That had been so strange. Eirran had been very sure she had actually heard Jenys, and yet that was impossible. She must think about that, later, when she had time.

  The Falconers came around a corner and halted. Eirran nearly blundered into Weldyn; he glanced over his shoulder at her, disdain for her clumsiness written clearly on his face.

  “This is it,” Yareth said quietly. “That gray door yonder.”

  “The woman stays out here. She'll just get in our way.”

  “No, I won't.”

  “You hold that sword as if it were a stick.”

  “Then I'll use it to club the Kolder who hurt my daughter.”

  “Quiet,” Yareth said. “She stays with us. Our luck won't last forever. We're bound to run into more Hounds and she wouldn't stand a chance if we left her outside and she had to deal with them alone.”

  Weldyn scowled, and then nodded reluctantly. “Very well. But she'd better keep out of my way or I won't be responsible for what happens to her.”

  “Fair enough,” Eirran said grimly. “Now, how do we get in?”

&nb
sp; For answer, Yareth crept forward, careful not to betray his presence by click of bootheel or jingle of chain mail. She and Weldyn followed, just as cautiously. As they drew closer, Eirran became aware of a curious deadness to the air, a kind of absence of sound that swallowed up all noise and gave back none of the normal echo and resonance that was so much a part of her normal surroundings she didn't even notice it until it was gone.

  The Falconers must have been experiencing the same thing; they exchanged glances with eyebrows raised.

  “It must be the Kolder metal, or whatever it is, on this door,” Weldyn said.

  Yareth stared at the gray surface. “Or the effects of the machine in there. Perhaps both.”

  Gingerly, Eirran laid one fingertip against the door; the material—not wood, not metal as she knew it—yielded slightly under her touch. But it was as cold and lifeless as the aura it exuded, and somehow hungry, as if it would drain all the life force out of her if she touched it long enough. She drew her hand back, as if she had been scalded.

  “I'd bet you could shout the castle down and nobody would hear it inside,” Weldyn said. “They might not even notice an ordinary knock. You'd think they would hang a bell inside, or some such. Anything to keep from having to touch that stuff.”

  “They don't care about that. If there's no bell and they would have trouble hearing us even if we wanted to knock politely, let's take a more direct way to open the door and hope that somebody is inside to receive visitors.”

  The men stepped back a pace. The falcons clutched the men's gloves, striving to keep their balance, as the warriors aimed kicks squarely in the center of the door. The lock burst. The door flew open—not with a crash, but with something like a muffled thud—and the three people and two falcons leaped inside. The birds were at the highest point in the room, ready to go arrowing down at the enemy, even before the two men and the woman with them had cleared the door.

  As they rushed in, Eirran got a confused jumble of gray and green-blue shapes—three gray-clad horrors masquerading in the form of men, and the green-blue uniforms of four white-blond men. One of the Alizonders shouted an alarm and pulled a dart-gun from the holster at his side.

  From above, Newbold screamed a challenge. He stooped toward the head of the Kolder seated at the table. Swift as thought, the falcon ripped out tubes and wires and carried them off in his talons. Somewhere in the room a high-pitched whine droned to a stop. Lights on the map died, dials dimmed and went out, and the Kolder slumped like a doll that had lost its stuffing. The metal cap came off the Kolder's head and dangled, useless, from the few wires still attached to the machine. The cap had replaced most of the creature's skull. To Eirran's horror, the sickening contents began spilling out. Newbold banked, stooping for a second attack.

  Zzzzzt! The dart-gun in the hands of the Alizonder spoke, and Eirran ducked instinctively. But none of the human attackers had been the target. Newbold screeched in a note Eirran had never heard before—a cry that should have been impossible for a bird's throat to produce. He flapped feebly, still trying to fly. Time slowed and Eirran watched, in excruciating detail, as the black-feathered bird slipped sideways out of the air and fell to the cold gray floor. He seemed to fall forever, drifting down as helplessly as a feather. A blotch of red stained the white “V” on the falcon's breast.

  Her own voice jarred her back to reality. “No!” she screamed.

  Weldyn shoved her out of the way and hurled himself onto one of the Kolder. She scrambled past Yareth who had leapt to the attack, engaging sword to sword with two of the Alizonders. The man with the dart-gun turned the weapon in her direction.

  Zzzzztl The dart whizzed past, and the scalp over her ear stung furiously. She flung herself at the man but she did not move more swiftly than Sharpclaw. The second falcon flew straight into the man's face. Instinctively, he covered his eyes before Sharpclaw could blind him. Eirran lunged at him with the sword. His hands dropped, grasping at the blade, and he stared at her in utter disbelief before he collapsed. She pulled the sword free and turned, looking for another enemy to destroy.

  The Kolder Weldyn was struggling with presented a tempting target, but she dared not interfere, lest she blunder and wound—even kill—the wrong one. The third Kolder fumbled with the apparatus Newbold had ripped from the controller. He seemed to be trying to fit the cap onto his own skull. Eirran ran forward, raised her sword and brought it whistling down on the spot where the neck joins the shoulders. The Kolder fell. Something hit her, hard, from behind and she went down in turn, struggling with the Alizonder who had attacked her. She had lost her sword. The Alizonder raised a dagger. Desperately, she caught his wrist with both hands before he could bury the blade in her body. She couldn't even defend herself. The two daggers in her belt might as well have been back in Blagden, for all the good they did her. The Alizonder was too strong. Inexorably, the dagger point came closer, until it was scraping against her chainmail.

  Weldyn appeared over the Alizonder's shoulder. With quick, brutal efficiency, he hauled the man up by his hair, stabbed him, and hurried on to Yareth's assistance. By the time Eirran scrambled out from under the dead man, the last two enemies lay dead.

  Weldyn hastily checked the insignia on the Alizonders. “Underlings,” he muttered in disgust. “Minor barons at best, having a cozy chat with their Kolder masters. Well, I suppose it was too much to ask that we'd catch Mallandor in here with them.”

  “You're hurt!” Yareth hurried over to Eirran and touched the spot on the side of her head.

  “It's nothing,” she said. “We've all got a cut or two. Newbold—”

  Yareth had not seen what had happened. With a cry he flung himself down next to the falcon and picked him up as tenderly as he had handled Jenys when she was an infant. “He lives yet,” he said brokenly. “He's still breathing.”

  “He killed one of the Kolder unaided,” Weldyn said. “He acquitted himself well.”

  Eirran touched the bird cautiously, trying to examine him. The dart, ugly and bloodstained, protruded from the falcon's chest. “He's gravely wounded. I'll take him.”

  Weldyn put his hand on her arm. “No,” he said.

  She gazed at him a moment, then nodded. It was only fitting that Yareth bear his feathered brother in honor from the field of battle. It didn't matter one way or another that Yareth could scarcely carry Newbold and fight at the same time. The odds on their living to reach a place where she could tend his hurt were shortening steadily. Chances were they would be captured, or trapped and shot down with darts or arrows within the hour.

  “Come on, then,” she said. “The last place I want to be caught is in here.” Yes, she added to herself, let's get it over with. Let us go running headlong to our doom.

  Weldyn whistled Sharpclaw back to his fist. Yareth, cradling Newbold tenderly in the crook of one elbow, hefted his sword. Eirran retrieved her own sword from where it had lodged in the Kolder's body, and the three hurried out of the gray chamber.

  “Which way now?” she asked.

  “This way.” Weldyn pointed toward the end of the corridor. “There should be a stair down, and a wall passage where we can go without being seen from either ward. Then we'll have to get out the main gate and find the other men and the children.”

  “Is that all?” Eirran gave a short laugh in spite of herself. She could see the crossbowmen now, waiting atop the wall to catch them in a murderous crossfire. “Well, let's get on with it.”

  Once again, the information Ysher had given his friend Weldyn proved correct. The three of them ducked into the narrow walkway hidden inside the great wall of the castle. The darkness was alleviated by the light from an occasional arrow-slit and by small oil lamps set at intervals in holders on the walls. A smell of dampness came through the arrow-silts from the river below. As they hurried past, one lamp guttered and went out.

  “The Alizonders must not have the power machines Estcarp has, to light and heat their strongholds,” Weldyn commented. “Either that, or th
eir machines have fallen into disrepair. Perhaps that's one reason they keep trying to overrun us.”

  Yareth made no reply, but moved ahead in that long-legged stride Eirran knew so well. She hurried after him, and Weldyn, for once, was forced to bring up the rear.

  “Yareth!” Eirran caught him by the sleeve. Intent on Newbold, he had failed to look ahead, to anticipate what they might encounter in the passageway.

  Five Hounds accompanied by their snake-headed white dogs of war were coming toward them at a dead run.

  II

  Without a word, Yareth passed Newbold back to Eirran and rushed forward to the attack. His dagger appeared as if by magic in his other hand.

  One of the hounds leapt out in front. “Wait!” it cried in an unaccountably childish, high-pitched voice. “It's us!”

  Yareth halted in his tracks. “W-what—” he said. He gripped his sword a little tighter.

  “It's us! It's me! Cricket! We're disguised!”

  Two of the Hounds carried white dogs in their arms. Eirran tugged on Yareth's sleeve again. He shrugged her off. One of the unencumbered Hounds laid his sword down very carefully and took a step forward, displaying empty hands.

  “Please,” he said. “Listen. Or kill me if you wish. I am Alizonder. The others are disguised, as this little one said.”