He was nearing the Heartstone; he heard voices ahead, and he felt its broken rhythms and discordant song shrilling nauseatingly along his nerves. Vree tightened his talons in protest but voiced no other complaint.
He staggered, winded, into the clearing holding the Heartstone, taking the occupants by complete surprise.
Vree did not wait for orders; he had an agenda of his own. Before Darkwind could say a word, the forestgyre launched himself from Darkwind’s shoulder, straight at the crow that sat like an evil black shadow on his father’s shoulder, as if it was whispering into Starblade’s ear.
The crow squawked in panic and surprise, and leapt into the air—heading for the shelter of the undergrowth, no doubt counting on the fact that falcons never followed their prey into cover. But the evil creature did not know Vree; his speed, or his spirit. The gyre hit the crow just as he penetrated the cover of the lower branches; hit him with an impact audible all over the clearing. Rather than taking a chance that his stunned victim might escape, instead of letting it fall, Vree bound on with both sets of talons, and screamed his victory as he brought his prey to the ground. And Starblade collapsed.
The action of Darkwind’s bird stunned the Adepts, all but Stormcloud, who shouted something unintelligible, and flung out his hand in Darkwind’s direction. The scout found himself unable to move or speak, and fell hard on his side—
Vree bent and bit through the thrashing crow’s spine, ending its struggles.
Darkwind fought against his invisible bonds as the outraged Adepts converged on him—but as they started to move, an entirely unexpected sound made them freeze where they stood.
“Free—” Starblade moaned, the relief so plain in his voice that it cut to the heart. “Oh, gods, at last, at last—”
The Adepts turned to stare at their leader, and Darkwind took the momentary distraction to snap his invisible bonds.
He stumbled to his father’s side and reached for his hands. Starblade took them; his mouth trembled, but he was unable to say anything. It seemed as if he was struggling himself, fighting against a horrible control that even now held him in thrall.
“He’s been under compulsion! Put a damn shield on him!” Darkwind shouted, throwing his own around his father, and startling the others so much they followed suit. And just in time; Darkwind felt a furious blow shuddering against his protections as the others added their strength to his. Another followed—then another. A half dozen, in all, before the enemy outside gave up, at least for the time being.
And now I know your name and face, Darkwind thought with grim satisfaction. I know who you are. Now it’s just a matter of hunting you down.
Starblade groaned, still fighting the binding that kept him silent. “I know, Father,” Darkwind said, urgently, as the other Adepts gathered around them. “I know at least some of it. That’s why Vree killed that damn crow. We’ll help you, Father. I swear it, we’ll help you.”
Starblade nodded slightly, and closed his eyes, silent, painful tears forming slowly at the corner of his eyes and trickling down his ghost-pale cheeks as Darkwind explained what he had learned from Nyara as succinctly as possible. The others wasted no time in argument; Starblade’s own reactions told the truth of Darkwind’s words.
“Let me tend to him,” Iceshadow said, when Darkwind had finished. The scout moved over enough for the older Adept to take a place cradling Starblade’s head in both his hands. Iceshadow stared intently into Starblade’s eyes, but spoke to the son, not the father. “Tell me in detail everything you know.”
Darkwind obeyed, detailing Nyara’s explanations of how Falconsbane had caught Starblade, and how he had broken the Adept and set the compulsions. Iceshadow nodded through all of it.
“I think I have enough,” he said, then looked down into Starblade’s eyes. “But first, old friend, I must bring down your shields. He has trained you to respond only to pleasure, or pain. And since I do not have time for pleasure—forgive me, but it must be pain.”
As Starblade nodded understanding, Iceshadow caught Darkwind’s attention. “Take his left hand,” the Adept said. “Spread it flat upon the ground.”
As Darkwind obeyed, mystified, Starblade closed his eyes and visibly braced himself.
“Take your dagger and pierce his hand,” Iceshadow ordered. And when Darkwind stared at him, aghast, the older Tayledras frowned fiercely. “Do it now, young one,” he snarled. “That evil beast has tied his obedience to pain, and I cannot break his shields to free his mind without driving him insane. Now do what I tell you if you wish to help him!”
Darkwind did not even allow himself to think; he simply obeyed.
Starblade’s scream of agony sent him lurching to his feet and away, tears of his own burning his eyes and blurring his sight.
When he could see again, he found Vree standing an angry and silent guardian over his victim, the crow that Mornelithe Falçonsbane had used to control Starblade and shatter the lives of everyone in k‘Sheyna. Showing a sophistication that Darkwind had not expected of him, Vree had neither eaten his victim, nor abandoned it. The first might have left him open to Falconsbane’s contamination—the second might have given Falconsbane a chance to recover his servant, perhaps even to revive it. Almost anything was possible to an Adept of Falconsbane’s power. It only depended on whether or not he was willing to expend that power.
Even if they buried the crow, it was possible that Falconsbane could work through it, to a limited extent. There was only one way to end such a linkage.
Destroy it completely.
There was always a fire burning beside the Heartstone; that memorial flame to the lives of those who had died in its explosion. Darkwind picked up the bird carefully by one wing, and took it to the stone basin containing the fire of cedar and other fragrant woods long considered sacred by both the Shin‘a’in and the Tayledras.
He raised his eyes to the shattered Heartstone, truly facing it for the first time since the disaster.
The surface of the great pillar of stone was cracked and crazed, reflecting the damage beneath. The invisible damage was much, much worse.
And none of it—none—was his fault. The personal burden he had carried for so long, the ghost of guilt that had haunted his days, was gone.
Darkwind bent over the basin’s edge and closed his eyes in a prayer to the spirits of the woods and an apology to the spirits of the Tayledras that had died when the Heartstone sundered.
Mornelithe Falconsbane, you have a great deal to answer for.
He drew back and hurled the body of the crow into the fire pit—so hard that something shattered with a splintering crunch as it hit—perhaps the bird’s bones, perhaps the branches of the fire....
The Adepts were so intent on Starblade that they didn’t even look up, but a sudden heavy weight on his shoulder, and the soft trill in his ear, told him that Vree approved.
The feathers caught fire quickly; the rest took longer to burn—but the flames from the resin-laden branches were hot, and eventually the flesh crisped and blackened, then burst into flame. He watched until the last vestige of the bird was ash and glowing coals, and only then turned back to the rest.
Iceshadow still cradled Starblade’s head in both his hands. A pool of blood had seeped out around Starblade’s hand, with Darkwind’s knife laid to the side. The expression on Iceshadow’s face was just as intent, but Starblade’s expression had changed entirely.
Darkwind wondered now how he could ever have mistaken the changes in his father for anything other than a terrible alteration in his personality. Here was the father he had loved as a child—despite the pain, the grief, and the suffering etched into his face.
Starblade opened his eyes for a moment and saw him; he smiled, and tried to speak.
And couldn’t. Once again, he came up against a terrible compulsion. His face twisted as he strove to shape words that would not come.
“Keep trying,” Iceshadow urged, in a low, compelling voice. “Keep trying, I’m tracking i
t down.”
Iceshadow was seeking the root of the compulsion, and reversing it; since Falconsbane had changed his father’s will rather than placing a simpler block, it was not a matter of removing a wall. Instead, Starblade’s mind had to be altered, set back to normal bit by bit as each compulsion was found and changed, so he could regain the use of all of his mind.
The internal struggle, mirrored in Starblade’s face, ceased as Iceshadow found the series of problems, and corrected them one by one.
Darkwind dropped to his knees beside his father, and took the poor, wounded hand in his own. Blood leaked through an improvised bandage, but Starblade managed a faint ghost of a smile, fleeting, and full of pain.
“I made you my enemy,” he whispered. “I made you hate me, so that anything I told you to do, you would do the opposite. Then, when M-M-” his face twisted with effort.
“Mornelithe,” Darkwind supplied.
Starblade sighed. “When he twisted my thoughts, so that they were no longer my own, I knew that he would want you to take up magic again. If you did, eventually he would find a way to take you, too, through me. And blood of my blood, you would have been vulnerable.”
“He almost had what he wanted,” Darkwind replied grimly, thinking of all Nyara had told him.
Starblade nodded. “The only way I could think of to protect you was to drive you away from me. So that the more I tried, beneath his compulsion, to bring you back to magic, the more you would fight it. Then ... when my mind was not my own ... you were safe.” He looked up tearfully, entreatingly, at his son. “Can you ... ever forgive me?”
Darkwind blinked away tears. “Of course I can forgive you,” he said quickly, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked up at Ice-Shadow. “How clear is he?” he asked.
Iceshadow shook his head. “I’ve only begun,” the Adept replied, exhaustion blurring his words a little. “It’s going to be a long process. The bastard set the compulsions in a few days, but they’ve had all this time to work and develop. We’ll have to keep him under shield the whole time.”
“Put him in the work area,” Darkwind suggested. “It has strong shields, and there aren’t any apprentices who need it right now. Those shields are the best we have.”
“Which is why I was not—permitted—to go there,” Starblade whispered. “The bird would not let me.”
“Then that is a good indicator that the shields will hold, don’t you think?” Darkwind responded. He started to let go of Starblade’s hand, but his father clutched it despite the pain that must have caused.
“Wait,” he coughed. “Dawnfire—”
Darkwind froze. Iceshadow asked the question he could not manage to get out.
“What about Dawnfire?” the Adept asked. “She’s dead.”
“No,” Starblade said urgently. “The bird was never found, but M-M—his sign was on her body. I think he has her—trapped in her bird. Still alive, but helpless. A—another toy.” Starblade’s face was twisted, but this time with what he remembered. “It would—please him—very much.”
Chapter Twenty-one
ELSPETH
The sky burned blue, but eight hooves pounded their own frantic thunder on the earth of the Plains; grass stems lashed their legs and the barrels of the Companions as they fled. Elspeth risked a look back, her hair whipping into her face and making her eyes water. The pack of fluid brown shapes streaming through the grasses behind them seemed a little closer. It was hard to tell for certain; they were visible only as a flowing darkness in the grasses, and the movement of the vegetation as they disturbed it. Then the lead beast leapt up, showing its head, and she was sure of it.
“They’re gaining on us!” she shouted at Skif. He looked back, then bent farther down over Cymry’s neck like a jockey. She did the same, trying to cut her wind resistance.
The Companions were running as fast as they could—which was very fast, indeed. The ground flowed beneath their hooves at such a rate that after one look that made her dizzy, she kept her eyes fixed ahead. She could not imagine how any creature could be capable of keeping up with them. It seemed impossible that they could be moving this fast.
:What are these things?: she asked Gwena who flattened her ears a little more and rolled her eyes back at her rider.
:I don’t know,: the Companion replied, bewildered. :I’ve never heard of anything like them.: Sweat streamed down her outstretched neck, and the ends of her mane lashed Elspeth’s face and got into her mouth.
:I have,: the sword cut in gruffly. :Damn things are magical constructs; beasts put together by an Adept. Probably all they’re good for is running.:
Elspeth looked back again, nervously. The pack leader gave another of those jumps, that took it briefly above the level of the grass stalks; this time showing its head clearly. Its mouth was open, its tongue out like a dog’s. All she really saw were the jaws, a mouth full of thumb-length fangs.
:Well—running and killing,: Need amended. :Whatever, they’re not of a type I’ve seen before. That makes them twice as dangerous; I can’t tell you what they’re capable of.:
“Thanks,” Elspeth muttered under her breath. She peered ahead, wishing there was any way she could use her distance-viewer. Somewhere on the cliff ahead of them—hopefully somewhere near—was a path like the one they had descended. This trail was next to a waterfall, and she strained her eyes for a glimpse of water streaming down the side of the cliff into the Plains. If they could reach that path, they could probably hold the things off. They might be able to climb it faster than the beasts could; certainly they would be able to hold the narrow trail against their pursuers if they turned to stand at bay.
At the top of that path lay the place circled on the map. Whether or not there was any help for them there—
The Companions were getting tired. How long could they keep this pace up?
Her nose caught the scent of water as they topped a rise, just as she saw the line of green, a line of verdant trees and bushes, at the edge of a long slope, down below them. There was a glint of reflected light from the cliff; she assumed that was the promised waterfall.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and set loose her FarSight; looking for a place to make a stand. There wasn’t much else she could do at the moment, other than make certain she was in no danger of being tossed off if Gwena had to make a sudden move.
Nothing at the bottom of the cliff; no, that was definitely no place to make a stand. The waterfall splashed down onto rocks right beside the beginning of the trail; the rocks were wet and slippery, marginal for booted feet, treacherous for hooves. In fact, the entire path was like that, winding beneath the waterfall at times, skirting the edge of it at others. This was not a straight fall; the water dropped through a series of basins and down many tumbles of rocks, keeping spray to a minimum. It might almost have been sculpted that way, and the path appeared to be an afterthought, cut into the stone around the fall as best as could be.
The path was narrow, too narrow to allow more than one rider at a time. She scanned the entire length of it, and found no place wide enough for the four of them to hold off their followers. If they made a stand, it would have to be at the top.
So she turned her FarSight to the top—and there, at last, was the shelter she had been searching for.
There were ruins up there; tumbles of massive rocks, identifiable only as ruins because of the regular size and shape of the stones, and the general shapes of what might once have been walls. Right where the path reached the top, there was a good place to hole up.
:There’s magic there,: Need said suddenly, looking through Elspeth’s “eyes.” :Do you see that kind of shimmer? That’s magic energy. With luck I can use it to help with defense.:
:I don’t intend to get close enough to those things to have to use a blade,: Elspeth retorted.
:Dunce. I didn’t mean for you to fight. I mean to channel my magic through you. I was a fairly good mage. You may even learn something.:
Elspeth felt
stunned. :I thought you only protected—:
:That was when I was asleep,: the sword said shortly. :Why don’t you see what you can do about picking off some of those beasts? Maybe if you kill one, the others will stop to eat it.:
Well, it was worth trying. The long slope gave the Companions some relief; though tiring, they were running with a bit less strain. Gwena’s coat was still sweat-foamed, but her breathing beneath Elspeth’s legs was easier.
Elspeth pulled her bow from the saddle sheath; freed an arrow from the quiver at her knee. She clamped her legs tight around Gwena’s barrel, and turned, sitting up a little higher in her saddle as she did so.
The leader of the pack had a peculiar bounding rhythm to his chase; it was, she discovered, rather like sighting on a leaping hare. And she had done that so many times she had lost count; hunting had been one of the few ways she could escape the Palace and her rank and position.
Although I wish I had a hawk right now to set on them. A big hawk. With long, long talons....
The leader’s bound carried him below the grass; she nocked and loosed—and he leapt right into the arrow’s path.
Soundless they were on the chase; soundlessly he fell, and he fell right under the feet of his pack. Whether or not they would—as Need had so gruesomely suggested—stop to eat him, it didn’t matter. At least not at the moment, not while at least half the pack tumbled over the body of the leader, and the rest stopped their headlong chase to mill aimlessly around the dead and the fallen.
She nocked and loosed another arrow, and a third, both finding targets, before Gwena carried her out of range. Never once did any of those she hit utter a single sound.
:Good work,: the Companion said, without slowing. That should buy us some time.:
:Assuming something else doesn’t take their place, or join them,: the sword pointed out grimly. :I hate to say this, but I do sense things stirring; energies being disturbed, and some kind of communication going on that I can’t read. I’m afraid we’re going to have something else on our trail before long.:
Valdemar 09 - [Mage Winds 01] - Winds of Fate Page 37