No, leave them furled. It will be easier to pull you up without the wind fighting me, Thekila said through their bond. It’s harder to move something that’s moving on its own.
So he lay limp and let her do the work. She lifted him slowly. He knew she could have pulled him up much more quickly, but . . . he was glad she didn’t. Even though he would have been going up, not down, it would have been just a little too much like that helpless fall toward the waves below. He swallowed hard at the thought.
“Well, that didn’t go very well,” Thekila said once his feet were on solid ground again. She started to reach for the harness straps, then paused. “Can you show me what you were doing? Maybe I can figure out how to help you.”
Vatar nodded. As soon as his breathing had slowed, he lifted his wings and flapped rising slightly on his toes.
“Ah, that’s the problem. Birds don’t just flap, there’s a little twist . . . Here, let me show you.” She flowed, from her feet to her head, into the shape of a white eagle of ordinary size and leapt upward, flying circles around Vatar’s much-larger eagle with powerful strokes. Now watch carefully. You have to push back a little on the down stroke—just a little—and fold your wings a little on the up stroke. See how my wing twists a little with each stroke. That’s what you need to do.
I think I see, Vatar responded, starting to raise his wings.
Not yet, Thekila said. Wait until I get back up there, in case I need to catch you. Oh, and watch how I land, too. The first landings tend to be pretty rough, speaking from experience.
With powerful strokes, she rose up a little higher than the cliff face. Then, as she approached the ground, she changed the angle of her wings so that she was nearly upright, rather than horizontal as in flight, and set down lightly on the ground. She shifted back to her normal shape. “Are you sure you want to try anything more today? That was pretty scary.”
Vatar was seriously tempted to agree with her. His heartbeat had still not slowed to its normal pace. But he knew better. It wasn’t any different, really, than learning to ride. When you fell off your horse—unless you were seriously injured—you had to get right back on. Otherwise, if you gave yourself time to think about it too much, it would just be harder the next time. And this time . . . if he waited until tomorrow, he’d never fly. And he was not about to let Thekila fly over ships under Gerusa’s control, ships carrying Exiles, without him to back her up.
That didn’t mean he needed to spend a lot more time in eagle form. But he did have to go off that cliff one more time before he let this shape go. No. Give me a moment. I want to try what you just showed me while it’s fresh in my mind.
It was harder to use the breathing exercises in bird form, but Vatar did his best. After a few moments he hopped back to the cliff’s edge. Taking one last, deep breath, he spread his wings and jumped off. He spread his wings and the rising air current kept him from falling. One more deep breath and he tried the wing movement Thekila had demonstrated. He didn’t fall. He didn’t really fly either. That would imply forward movement and he wasn’t making much of that, either. Still, he was willing to settle for not falling after his last attempt.
Good, come back in, now and try a landing, Thekila told him. You don’t want to overdo it on your first flight. Trust me, even your arms will get tired at first. We’ll try loosening up your muscles by running a little as lions after you land.
That sounded like an excellent idea. Best stay away from the edge of the cliff while we run, he responded to that last comment.
Thekila laughed. Yes, I think so.
Vatar spread his wings to soar again, circled until he was facing the bluff, and tried to copy Thekila’s landing. He pitched forward. All right, he was going to have to work on that, too. At least he was back on solid ground again.
Thekila undid the straps on the harness and stepped back. Vatar released his concentration and returned to his true shape.
Thekila hugged him hard. “I think that may be one of the bravest things I’ve seen you do. And that’s saying something.”
~
Vatar, in eagle form, stood on the cliff top again while Thekila fastened the harness. Over the last month he’d gotten enough better at flying that he hadn’t worn the harness the last two times. Good enough that Thekila planned something a little more challenging for today. While she checked the harness, he eyed the opposite headland. He was supposed to fly over there, land, and then come back. Funny, it hadn’t seemed that far away before. Still, it wasn’t the flight that bothered him as much as the landing. His landings were still very rough and after landing on his beak a few times, he’d developed a bad habit of flapping too hard which always threatened to push him over backwards. On the edge of a cliff, that could be a very bad thing. You’re sure you can reach that far if I overcorrect on my landing again?
Thekila laughed. “It’s really not much farther than when we were shifting all those rocks with my Power to clear the shipping channel after that landslide two years ago. If you’re worried about it, maybe you should plan to land a little away from the cliff. Or, you could just concentrate harder on making a good landing.”
Vatar looked down and then back to the opposite cliff. The peninsula looked farther, but then, the boulders hadn’t been floating on the surface of the water, either. They’d rested on the seabed, far below. Probably Thekila was right.
She patted him on the shoulder. “All right. You’re all set.”
Vatar gave a birdish nod, bobbing his whole body. Rather than hop forward to the cliff edge, he leaped upward, stroking with his powerful wings. He needed practice in taking off from ground-level, too. Might as well make this session do for both.
He circled a little higher, letting the warm air updraft along the cliff face do the work. That way, if he lost altitude as he crossed the strait, he’d still be high enough to land on the far side—hopefully. When he thought he was high enough, he struck out toward the opposite headland. His large wings should have carried him across quickly, but he had to fight against a stiff cross wind that tried to blow him back into the bay. Maybe it was that wind or maybe he was getting better at flying, but he hadn’t lost as much altitude as he’d expected. He allowed himself to dip a bit lower before the next updraft caught him and bore him back upward.
Coming up to a landing from slightly below allowed him to slow down just enough that he only had to take half a dozen running steps to keep from falling forward and landing on his beak. Or flipping onto his back, which he’d actually been a little more worried about.
Good job, Thekila told him through their bond. I think that was your best landing yet. Now fly back.
Give me a moment. That westerly wind is pretty strong. Vatar shook himself and ran—as far as eagle legs could be said to run—toward the cliff face and flew back to Thekila. His second landing wasn’t as good as the first, but Thekila put out a hand to keep him from tipping over.
Thekila began unfastening the harness. “Very good. The rest—learning to compensate for the wind and making better landings—will come with experience.”
As soon as the harness was off, Vatar let his concentration on the eagle form go and shifted back to himself. “So, what do you have planned next?”
Thekila turned west and a little north. “I thought, when you’re ready, that we might fly over to those islands. It’ll be months yet before the merchants or fishermen are willing to sail even that far. We could scout for possible sites for more catapults and have a look at the cove that’s supposed to be on the far side.”
Vatar followed her gaze. That island was a lot farther than the opposite headland. And nothing but water below for the whole flight. “I don’t know if I’m quite ready for that, yet.”
“No, not yet.”
Chapter 8: Warning Ignored
Theklan sat with his back to an old pear tree in the middle of one of the lawns of the Academy and sharpened his spear. Not that he needed a sharp spear here, but it was a way of working out his frustratio
n and anger. He’d tried for the third time to pass on Zoria’s warning about the Exiles’ intentions. Not that the Valson would be ready for a fight if—when—it came to them, but he couldn’t even get a hearing before the Valson Council. The few people who had pretended to listen to him dismissed him as just a boy worrying over fantasies.
Before he’d left the Dardani last summer, he’d already been recognized as a grown man. No one there would have just dismissed his warning. And, if he were still with the Dardani, his chosen people, they could have been warned of this threat. At least they’d be prepared to try to do something about it, even if they weren’t able to counter the Exiles’ magic. He should be there to help with that.
At least the spear helped him feel less disconnected from where he belonged. It was a Dardani weapon and Vatar had made it for him. He could feel a tingle of Vatar’s magic in the spearhead, whispering protection. But that life was far away, over the mountains and on the other side of the forest. Most of all, he belonged with Kiara.
“What’s that for?”
Theklan looked up to see Sharila, his study partner, standing over him. He sighed. “Nothing. It just reminds me of home.”
Sharila reached out to touch the point of the spear. She hissed and pulled her hand back, sucking on the tip of her finger. “Seems like a pretty dangerous memento to me.”
“It’s not a memento. This spear was meant to be used—to hunt, to protect against predators, to fight in battle. And, apart from its intended uses, it’s not dangerous if you don’t do something stupid like trying to test the edge with your finger.”
“I’d never seen a spear before,” Sharila protested.
Theklan huffed a bitter chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me?”
Sharila walked around, to the side away from the spear point, and sat down next to him. “What does that mean?”
He really shouldn’t blame Sharila for her ignorance. He’d probably known less when he followed Thekila and Vatar out of the Valley for the first time. It was only seeing it now, after living on the sea coast in Caere and especially after living on the plains among the Dardani, that the Valley seemed so . . . spineless. Theklan let the spear rest across his knees and gestured around the perfect grounds of the Academy. “No one here would know how to use a spear. Or any other weapon. Oh, maybe a few hunters up in the mountains. Even they wouldn’t know how to fight. They can’t imagine having to fight. Even when I try to warn them about what the Exiles plan, they won’t listen.”
“What you say the Exiles plan,” Sharila corrected.
Theklan ground his teeth. “No, what Z—” He cut himself off before using Zoria’s name. No knowing if the Exiles were actually still in contact with anyone in the Valley through Far Speech. And it wouldn’t do to expose her real purpose. “What Thekila—and Teran and Terania, the Valson emissaries to Caere—say they’re planning. What they’ve told me to pass on to the Valson Council.” He shook his head. “Sharila, if they’re not stopped first, they’re going to come over that Pass at the head of an army. And nobody here will even know how to resist. And the Council won’t even hear me out.”
“Well, it would be unusual for the Council to take advice from a boy—”
Theklan surged to his feet and paced in front of her. “I’m not a boy. I passed my manhood test among the Dardani before I came here. Even before that, since I got my Clan Mark at my initiation,” he paused to put a hand over the place where his tunic hid the feather tattoo on his left breast, over his heart, “I’ve had the right to be heard in my clan councils or the tribal council. But the Valson Council can’t even be bothered to let me relay a message. A message—from their own emissaries—meant to warn them so they can save themselves.” He stopped and kicked at a stone. “And I’m getting very tired of being treated like I can’t be trusted to put on my own boots without supervision.”
“It’s not that bad,” Sharila said.
“No? Your brother just denied me permission to go to the City to try for another chance to be heard. I’m restricted to the Academy grounds, according to him.” Theklan turned toward the mountains and the Pass, now blocked with winter snow, trapping him here. “If I could figure out a way to take my spear with me, I’d fly over that Pass and never look back. I don’t belong here.” An empty threat. Not just because the Pass was closed with snow until the spring thaw. He’d only come here to learn better control of his magic—specifically so he could help fight the Exiles. He had to stay until he’d accomplished that—but not one day longer.
By spring. Because the Exiles would be on the move then, attacking Caere. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the coastal city was just a stepping stone to the Dardani—and then here. And being able to help defend the Dardani was the reason he’d agreed to come back to the Valley in the first place.
Sharila drew in a breath sharply. “We can’t even go up in the mountains to practice your flying?”
Theklan snorted. That would be the one thing she worried about out of everything he’d told her. “Oh, he made an exception for that. As long as we let him know in advance. He wants to be the teacher who instructed only the third Valson to learn to fly.” He gripped the spear tighter. “As soon as that Pass opens in the spring, I’m leaving this place. And I’m never coming back.” A chill in his belly cooled the fire of his determination. Except that he didn’t know whether he’d be welcome back among the Dardani, who had an irrational fear of magic. And the shaman had seen him use his Powers. He hoped Vatar would find a way to make that right. It didn’t matter, though. If he had to go back to Caere, it would be better than this. Or . . . a new thought occurred to him. Orleus needed help to the south in Tysoe, where the Exiles and the Themyri had attacked the outposts last year. Maybe he could go there. It wouldn’t be home—only the Dardani could ever be that for him—but it would be at least away from here and on the edge of the plains. And not Caere.
“Sharlin won’t like that,” Sharila said.
“You know what? I don’t really care. He’s welcome to try to stop me—if he thinks he can.”
“What about showing him—and me—about this Spirit magic, then?”
Theklan turned back to her. Another recruit—or two—for the coming war could make all the difference. “You could come with me. Or you and Sharlin could follow later.”
Her mouth twisted to one side in a kind of grimace. “What would we do out there?”
Theklan restrained himself from reaching for her hand. That could be . . . misconstrued. But he looked directly into her eyes, willing her to understand, to agree. “Help fight the Exiles so they don’t reach the Valley.”
Sharila made a rude noise. “You just got through saying that no one here has any idea how to fight.”
“I could teach you. Orleus taught me—he’s Captain of the Tysoean Guard.” Theklan paused, staring back at the dormitory buildings, a slow smile growing on his face. “In fact, I could teach any of the students who want to learn. Maybe then there’d be at least a few who could fight back against the Exiles.”
“Why would the teachers allow that?” she asked.
Theklan shrugged, turning his gaze back to her. “It’s good exercise.” He was already constructing drills in his imagination. He’d start with staves. Easy to make, with all the wood available around the Academy grounds. And it was the first weapon Orleus had taught him to use. Then . . . maybe bows.
~
Theklan waited until after the evening meal to bespeak his sister. “Thekila?”
“Theklan, how are things going?” she asked.
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “Depends on what you mean. My studies are going well enough, I suppose. I’m flying without a harness, now. Not for very long, yet. But I can’t even try again to get the Council to listen to me. Sharlin has forbidden me to leave the grounds of the Academy without his permission.”
“Why?”
“He said I was annoying the Council. If you ask me, they need to be annoyed a little mor
e.”
Thekila chuckled. “If it’s any consolation, Vatar has had to knock a few heads together—figuratively speaking—to get the councils working together here, too. Two councils are apparently more than twice as difficult. He even had to accept a seat on the Fasallon High Council.”
Theklan grimaced. “At least he’s making some progress. No one here takes me seriously.”
“Their mistake, then.” Thekila’s mental voice was soothing.
Theklan smiled a little at that. “What am I supposed to do now, though? I’ve had a thought that I can maybe teach some of my fellow students the things Orleus taught us. But I don’t know if any of them will want to. And I can’t even try to get the Valson Council to listen to me.”
“I don’t think there’s much more you can do about the Council. Most likely Teran and Terania will go back to the Valley this summer. Maybe Teran will have better luck persuading the Council to take this threat seriously. Teaching the other students is a very good idea, if you can get them to join you. Maybe do a demonstration—even of just the forms—to pique their interest. Otherwise, just concentrate on your studies.”
Theklan shifted in his seat. “I don’t think I have much more to learn here. I was thinking . . .”
“Yes?” Thekila prompted.
Theklan rushed the words, as if that would make them easier to say. “I was thinking that I’d come back when the Pass opens.”
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