Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Skif yelped and started to rise; she shook her head at him, and placed one hand on his knee to calm him. It didn't calm him a bit, but he subsided, looking sharply at both Firesong and Darkwind.

  Hmm. Interesting. I thought he was unarmed, but the way his right hand is tensing—he has a knife hidden somewhere near it. If he had a choice, he probably wouldn't be looking daggers at us, he'd be throwing them.

  "Yes to both questions," she replied steadily. "My problem with finding Father's hold upon your map was that I could not see the things I know as landmarks. I have a perfect memory for trails, it seems. I never had occasion to use it before I escaped my father, but it is very difficult for me to become lost. I can easily find the stronghold." She licked her lips, showing the tips of her canine teeth, then took a drink before continuing. "I can find it—and having found it, I know many of the odd ways into it. He does not guard all of them, for many are hidden. Some I was taught, but some I found on my own."

  "Yes, but will he not know of them as well?" Firesong asked gently. "I would not send you into a trap, dear child. Candidly, that would not serve either of us."

  Her lips curved in a faint smile. "I do not think there will be a trap. Since I am only interested in fleeing from him—he thinks—I suspect that the last thing he would look for me to do is return. The ways that I would take inside will be those that only I know, or those that I think he will not bother to trap."

  :I can hide her some, if that's your next question,: Need said. :I can hold a "reflective" illusion on her, the kind that makes her look like part of the landscape to Mage-Sight. More importantly, while I'm doing that, I can hide myself as well. Watch.:

  At that instant, Need ceased to exist, from the point of view of Darkwind's Mage-Sight. She was nothing more sinister to ordinary sight than an ordinary broadsword, and to Mage-Sight, she and Nyara did not exist, and Skif sat alone on the couch.

  Then Nyara was "back," all in an instant, and the sword with her.

  "Good. Very good," Firesong said, leaning forward a bit, his voice warm with approval. "Well, then, you must know that we have a plan, but the one in greatest danger will be you, Nyara. That is a great burden to be placed upon you, and no one will fault you if you say no."

  She shook her head, but not, Darkwind sensed, in denial. "I have been partially to blame for much harm that has come to you," she said. "I feel that I owe some recompense."

  :It's not like she's going to do this alone,: Need added dryly. :I've handled what Falconsbane can throw before. Hmph. Maybe if he throws the right stuff at us this time, I can transmute it and take off a little more of what he did to her.:

  "I will not count upon that," Nyara told her blade, and Darkwind thought he detected a tone of friendly chiding in her voice. "I will not even think of it. It serves little purpose, after all. If you can, I shall be grateful, but do not put yourself into jeopardy by an attempt."

  Need couldn't shrug, but Darkwind got the impression she had. :At any rate, as Nyara and Skif can tell you, I took on this form because there are times when one person can do what an army couldn't. I'm no expert on Falconsbane, but I don't think the odds are any worse now than they were back when I froze myself into this blade.:

  Darkwind looked at Skif, who growled, but shrugged. "She's her own woman," he replied unhappily. "If I tried to make her change her mind, I wouldn't be doing either of us any good. She wants to go through with this—I'll do what I can to help."

  Darkwind raised an eyebrow skeptically, Skif grimaced.

  "I don't like it," he admitted. "I'm scared to death for her, and if I could take her place I would. I won't pretend otherwise. But let's just say I learned how stupid it is to try and stop someone from doing something they have to do. It's even more stupid if you care about them."

  Darkwind read the look Skif gave both of them, however. If Nyara came to any harm at all, Skif would personally collect the damages due.

  "More than good!" Firesong applauded. "Well, then, if Nyara is agreed, I think it is time that we took the idea to the rest. We will discover if anyone can knock holes in this plan—or make it safer in any way."

  The gathering in the Council Oak clearing held only part of the usual gathering. Both gryphons, Nyara, Skif, Firesong, Wintermoon, the Companions, Elspeth—and Darkwind himself. No other mages; this would not be a plan that required more mages than they had right here. Starblade and Kethra were back to recovering; Iceshadow and Nightjewel were conserving their strength. And they added no more fighters than Skif and Wintermoon, either. As Need had said, there were times when one—or a handful—could do what an army could not.

  Firesong had lost a great deal of his jauntiness in the past few days, and he had put aside his elaborate costumes in favor of simple, flowing clothing like any other mage wore, He could hardly hide the flamboyant bondbird that perched on his shoulder, but other than that, and his incredible beauty, there was nothing that set him apart from the other mages in k'Sheyna.

  "Here is the situation as it stands," Firesong began. Using a handful of stones and a bit of string, he began laying out something that looked rather like a very simple spiderweb. "If I had been looking for this earlier, I might have seen it being built—but it has the feeling of something assembled with haste, and we may be able to take advantage of that."

  "What is it?" Darkwind was baffled. "I assume Falconsbane has something to do with this, whatever it is."

  Firesong flushed, the first time Darkwind had ever seen him truly embarrassed. "Pardon. I forgot that none of you have been working with me upon this. The enemy wants to capture the proto-Gate; to that end he has constructed this web of power-points and interconnecting lines about his stronghold. If you look in the direction of his stronghold with FarSight and Mage-Sight, you will see it."

  Treyvan examined the model, and growled. "Thisss isss anew thing, isss it not?"

  Firesong shook his head. "Only new to Falconsbane. I have seen this sort of construction before, and it isn't half as effective as those who use it think. It has a vulnerability, a severe one. If the connections were weakened all about the edge so that they might snap beneath a good shock, he likely would not note the weakening. And if they snapped, the power would backlash against him in some profound ways."

  "What kind of ways?" Wintermoon wanted to know. "Something grievous, I hope."

  Firesong smiled faintly. "If he was not prepared with a way to ground it or to escape, he would likely be cast into the void between the Gates—as if he entered a Gate and both the Gate and the terminus were then destroyed. That is because of the way he has set up the tensions among his power-poles and his center. Great concentrations of power warp the world-space as Gates do."

  Darkwind shuddered; he had once had a glimpse of that void. He would prefer not to see it again. "That's not a fate I would wish on anyone," he said.

  "Not even Falconsbane?" Elspeth asked. "I can think of one or two others I would like to see contemplating their deeds for all eternity!"

  Firesong continued, as if they had not interrupted him. "Any shock to him would snap these threads of power once they were weakened—that would be the best way, in fact. A shock at the center will have more effect than one at an edge. But the weakening—that would have to be done quickly, so that he did not have a chance to notice what was being done." He looked up into the gryphons' faces, expectantly.

  Treyvan blinked slowly, his eyes distant. "You rrrequirrre ssswiftly trraveling magesss," he said. "And at the sssame time, you rrrequirrre sssomeone to infiltrrrate the beassst'sss home." Firesong nodded, and waited.

  "The ssswift onesss mussst be usss, I think," Treyvan continued. "And the otherrr—Nyarrra."

  "If you are willing, yes," Darkwind said awkwardly. "I hate to ask you, but if Falconsbane gains control of the proto-Gate, he'll have an enormous amount of power. It would be the kind of power that normally goes to establish and maintain an entire Vale; protections, Heartstones, Vale-sculpting, and all."

  "He could dess
strroy usss all with a thought," Hydona replied flatly. "He mussst not have that powerrr."

  "Bring the little ones here," Darkwind urged. "With the Heartstone gone, there's no longer a danger to them in staying here."

  Hydona nodded, but Darkwind sensed that she had something else on her mind. She looked to her mate.

  After a moment of wordless exchange, Treyvan sighed. "We wisssh sssomething in return," he said.

  "What?" Firesong asked. "If it is in our power—"

  "It isss. We requirrre a pricssse. We want k'Sheyna to not dissolve the Vale when you leave. To give it to ussss, Veil, shieldsss, and all." Treyvan tucked his wings closer in to his body. "We had planned to take it oncssse you left, but—"

  "But if you leave it asss it isss, it will be betterrr four ourrr new kla'hessshey'messserin," Hydona interrupted. "We might asss well brrring it into clearrr sky, asshkeyana."

  Darkwind blinked, trying to identify the two words they had just used. They sounded like Tayledras, but weren't. They weren't Shin'a'in, either.

  "Kaled'a'in?" exclaimed Firesong, as he brought his head up, eyes wide with startlement.

  Treyvan sighed, as Hydona nodded firmly.

  Now that Darkwind knew the tongue, he could translate the words. The second was simply an endearment; "beloved." But the first—it was complicated. The strictest translation would have been "family," or "clan," except that it implied a family made of those who not only were not related by blood—but who might not even be of the same species.

  Once again, Firesong beat him to identification. "Pledged-clan?" he exclaimed again. "You're—you can't be Clan k'Leshya!"

  Wintermoon quite fell off his seat. "The Lost Ones? The Lost Clan?" he exclaimed, his eyes going so wide with surprise Darkwind was afraid he was going to sprain something. "The Spirit Clan? I thought—but—they were nothing but legend!"

  Treyvan's beak gaped in a gryphonic smile. "But we arrre legend, arrre we not? Orrr we werrre, to you."

  Elspeth, Skif, and Nyara were looking completely bewildered, as well they might. As Firesong stared and Wintermoon picked himself back up, Darkwind essayed a hasty explanation.

  "At the time of the Mage Wars, a group of Kaled'a'in from several clans, a group of outClansmen, and some of the nonhumans all formed a kind of—of—brotherhood, I suppose. They called themselves—"

  "Kena Lessshya'nay, in the Tongue," Hydona supplied. "It meansss 'clan bound by ssspirit.' Ssssomething like yourrr Heraldsss, but without Companionssss. Lessshya'nay could not join, they could only be chossssen, then agrrreed upon by thrrree morre. Ourrr leaderrrsss werrre two. The great Black Gryphon Ssskandrrranon, and the kessstra'cherrrn, Amberrdrrrake."

  Treyvan chuckled. "Though neitherrr everrr admitted to being leaderrr of anything!"

  "The Spirit Clan supposedly held many of Urtho's mages, all of the gryphons and hertasi, kyree, tervardi and dyheli, and a fair number of the Kaled'a'in shamans and Healers," Firesong said to the three Outlanders, leaning forward so that they could hear him. Then he turned to the gryphons, watching them intently. "But during the evacuation of the stronghold, you disappeared."

  Treyvan shook his massive head. "No. Herrre isss what happened. We did not ussse the Gatesss the lessser magesss crrreated to evacuate. We had been sssent away—sssupposssedly to find a rrrefuge forrr the rrrest of you and a mysssterriousss weapon. Ssso we werrre not in Urrtho'sss landsss when the evacuation came. Inssstead of sssouth or easst, we had gone wesssst, we had with usss a Gate made by Urrtho—hisss verry own Grrreat Gate, anchorrred on a wagon. We usssed it while you evacuated to brrring the rrrest of ourr folk to ourrr rrretrreat in the wilderrrnessss. But therrre wasss not time to take everrryone thrrrough it—only Lesssshya'nay. The ressst of you had to take what Gatesss werrre nearrressst you."

  "And the dessstrrruction of the Ssstrrronghold thrrrew you farrtherrr than intended. We thought you had perrrisshed," Hydona continued. Then she, too, gaped her beak in a grin. "Imagine ourrr surrrprrrissse to find the legendarrry Kena Trrrevasho, Kena Sheynarsa, and the rrresst still in exissstence. To you, we arrre the Losst Onesss. But to usss, you arrre!"

  Firesong shook his head, bemusedly. "Quite amazing. And you still speak the Mother Tongue!"

  "Not quite purrrrely, I expect," Treyvan admitted. "But we have not had the prrresssuresss of the Ssstar-Borrrn to ssshape our language differrrently. Sssshe doess not meddle ssso much with usss asss with you."

  "Thisss all can wait, I think," Hydona interrupted firmly. "What we need to tell you issss thisss. Sssimply—you knew, Darrrkwind, that we werrre forrrerrrunnerrrsss. Of ourrr kind, you thought. Well, morrre of ourrr people arrre coming, and not jussst 'ourrr' kind."

  Darkwind shook his head, not quite able to figure out what she meant.

  "Not just gryphons, you mean?" Firesong said.

  "Gryphonssss, humanssss, sssome hertasssi. And sssoon." Treyvan turned to look at Darkwind. "When k'Sheyna began itsss trrroubleesss, we called them. You rrrecall the bookssshelvesss you helped hang? They werne not meant forrr us. We knew that thisss place would ssshelterrr usss well, and knew you needed help and would not asssk for it—asss Ssskandranon oft sssaid, 'it isss eassier to beg parrrdon than get perrrmisssion.' Sssince they did not wisssh to ssstir thingsss up by sssetting too many Gatesss, they have been coming acrosss countrrry."

  Darkwind had the vague feeling that he should have been outraged by this. He wasn't, but he knew plenty in the Clan who would be. Treyvan, on the other hand, did not look in the least contrite.

  "But now, we need magesss, ssswift-trrraveling magesss. Immediately." He turned his attention to Firesong, who nodded, then back to Darkwind. "With yourrr perrrmisssion, I shall ussse the lessser Gate in the rrruinsss and the powerrr of the node to meet their Gate, and brrring them herrre in time to help. But for that help, we wisssh the Vale. Intact."

  "I can't promise—" Darkwind began helplessly. Firesong interrupted him.

  "Is there any reason why k'Sheyna can't give them the Vale?" he asked. "Any reason at all?"

  The only reason Darkwind could think of was, "because we've never done it before," and that did not seem particularly adequate. Nor did he feel that this would be a true breach of Tayledras territoriality. After all, these people—beings—were Tayledras. Sort of.

  "Not that I can think of," he admitted. He licked his lips I thoughtfully. "All we know of the Spirit Clan is out of legend—and by knowing you two," he told the gryphons. "Leaving a Vale intact—that halves what little power we still possess. And it leaves you with a stronghold. What will we be leaving it to?"

  "A Clan like any otherrr," Hydona replied carefully. "A Clan with perrrhapsss only one thing you do not have, and that isss the trrrained kessstra'cherrrn crraft. But you have bondbirrrdsss that we do not. We have ourrr lazy folk, ourrr ssstupid folk, ourrr occasssional trrroublemakerrr. I think that no one lazy, at leassst, is likely to make the jourrrney—the ssstupid would likely not surrrvive it—and the trroublemakerrr—" she bobbed her head in a gryphonic shrug. "Therrre will alwaysss be thossse. The humanssss, at leassst, are Clansssfolk. We will take any oathssss you rrrrequirrre, and willingly, to have the Vale."

  "I say that this is aid we dare not reject," Wintermoon said firmly, surprising his brother. "Whatever the cost, ridding us of Falconsbane is worth it."

  "Darkwind, I think that anything you, your brother, and I together supported, the Elders would agree to," Firesong told him. "But let's take the advice of the Black Gryphon—that it is easier to beg pardon than gain permission—and go with Treyvan to bring his people through tonight."

  Darkwind wavered for a moment, doubtfully. He would be helping to bring an army into the ragged remains of his own people. Would he destroy them? Or would he save them?

  He looked into Treyvan's soft-edged raptor eyes, and saw there the friend, the surrogate parent, the ever-present, gentle guide.

  The one who had put up with having his feathers pulled by a rambunctious small boy—and his crest snatched b
y a wayward bondbird.

  He smiled, and nodded firmly. "Let's do it."

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The Vale was full of sunlight and gryphons. Elspeth had never seen anything like it, and the sight took her breath away. Everywhere she looked, there was a gryphon—bathing in a pool, lying along a massive branch or the roof of an ekele, sunbathing on the cliffs around the Vale. Gryphons with colors and markings like peregrines or forestgyres, cooperihawks or goshawks. Gryphons in solid colors of gray, gold, rusty-red. Gryphons with accipitor builds, and gryphons as slim as the lightest of falcons. The only markings they all had in common were patently artificial; the final arm's length or so of their first six primaries on each wing were white for four hand-spans, then red for another four hand-spans to the tips. Every time a gryphon moved a wing, the flash of red and white caught the eye like a flash of bright light.

  And they had arrived hungry. Fortunately, Treyvan and Hydona had explained to all their fellow flyers just what the bondbirds were and that they were not to be eaten. Otherwise there might have been true havoc by now, and a number of damaged Hawkbrothers and gryphons. The poor little hertasi had worked themselves to exhaustion, finding enough to feed all of them, and probably enjoyed every moment of their work. Hydona had promised that after this, they would hunt their own food.

  She thought she had never seen anything to match this, not even when the full complement of Heralds and Companions turned out for her mother's wedding. She would much rather look at the gryphons disporting themselves than at the chaos of arguing Clansmen. She would much rather be doing something about Falconsbane or the Heartstone than either....

  She shifted impatiently, and tried to concentrate on the meeting below her. The Council Oak clearing was full and overflowing with every Tayledras who could walk, and all of the newcomers—plus Skif and Nyara, up at the front, but she could scarcely see them past the press of bodies. The people who came with the gryphons had been less of a shock than the gryphons themselves; so much like both the Tayledras and the Shin'a'in that she couldn't tell any differences, except in speech and a certain uniformity of dress. They had arrived through the Gate bringing with them curious land-boats; like shallow-draft barges, but with pointed prows and places for rudders. These barges were roofed over and equipped with shutters, fitted up inside for sleeping and storage. Luggage, boxes, and bales of goods were piled upon the roofs and lashed down, and they floated above the ground at about knee-height.