Owlflight

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Owlflight Page 28

by Mercedes Lackey


  At that moment, a large shape detached itself from the shadows of the thicket surrounding the red boulder. Darian froze in place and then relaxed, exhaling sharply when he saw the shape resolve itself into golden-tipped feathers, the hook of an aquiline beak, and the flip and flash of a huge wing refolding against a feathered body. The gryphon stalked out, looking directly at Darian. He seemed impossibly huge even at this distance, yet Darian knew that was only a trick of the mind.

  He caught himself blushing, wondering how long he’d been under the creature’s scrutiny. Kelvren looked down, picked from several clear spots for the most comfortable, and sat down, waiting for Darian to approach. The gryphon’s chest rose and fell quickly as he apparently recovered from some physical effort or other, and his gaze appeared to soften the closer Darian came to him.

  “Grrreetingsss, Darrr’ian,” Kelvren rumbled as he dipped his beak in a nod. “I have jussst completed brrringing the ssstakesss the herrrtasssi have made. They arrre behind the rrred blouderrr.”

  Darian nodded self-consciously. “I heard. I mean, one of the hertasi told me that’s where they were—I didn’t know you’d brought them, though. I hope there’s enough of them.”

  Kelvren’s eyes sparkled and a moment later he wryly said, “I think therrre will be—enough.” Then he raised his head, flicking a tufted ear, and blinked a few times before opening his beak. Kelvren paused, roused his feathers, and bluntly asked Darian, “What trrroublesss you?”

  Darian frowned. “Was it obvious?”

  Kelvren clucked. “If you werrre not trrroubled, I would sssussspect you of not being human. But you arrre trrroubled, ssso, Changechild you arrre not. Ssspeak.”

  “All right. Do—you have parents?” Darian asked the gryphon.

  “Chah!” Kelvren barked. “No, I wasss borrrn ssspontaneousssly of an arrrtissst’sss drrream and a villain’sss nightmarrre.”

  Darian blushed. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. Of course you had parents.”

  Kelvren raised his beak up to point at the sky, then looked back to Darian. “If you mean, do I know my parrrentsss and rrressspect them? Yesss. Verrry much ssso. And do I misss them now? Yesss. Verrry much ssso.” He took a step toward the red boulder, and Darian followed. “One doesss not out-grrrow the feelingsss of fledging, jussst the intensssity of the feelingsss. It isss the way of thingsss.”

  Darian was incredulous, and stopped in his tracks. “You? You miss your—mama and papa?”

  The gryphon walked on without pause and rumbled only, “Don’t you?”

  Darian caught up. “Well, yes, but you’re a gryphon—”

  “And you arrre a human, and we werrre crrreated by humansss, and live with humansss, and learrrn frrrom humansss, and we arrre farrr morrre like you than you know. Why ssshould humansss have exsssclusssive rightsss to any anxsssiety?”

  Darian had to laugh at that. “I guess you’re right. You probably share your gryphon anxieties with us humans, too!”

  The gryphon nodded firmly and winked, stopped a few steps after reaching the boulder. “It isss only fairrr, afterrr all.” He pointed his beak, and Darian was astonished at what he saw.

  Stacked in bound bundles of twenty or more were sharpened stakes, in different thicknesses, piled as high as he was tall. There must have been hundreds of them, if not thousands.

  Maybe this plan would work after all.

  Snowfire had always considered himself to be in fine shape, but the need to favor his wounded arm was throwing everything off a little, including his balance, and as a result, he ached with unaccustomed strain. A full day of work on man-traps had been more than enough to show him that he probably ought to be in better condition than he was. He was stretching and twisting his good arm as he approached Starfall’s clearing and ekele, hoping to ease some of the aches.

  Hweel was already ahead of him, waiting on a spare perch beside Starfall’s cooperi hawk. Snowfire carried a rough meal of cold sliced meat, flatbread, and wild berries wrapped in a napkin. Ayshen was not cooking today, for he was needed to help set the traps, and although he would not have complained had he been asked to cook a supper as well, no one wanted to place that double burden on his too-willing shoulders.

  Nevertheless, they all had to eat; it would be cold meat, greens, and flatbread for as long as those lasted, and after that, each of them would be in charge of his own food. That was not exactly a hardship for a Hawkbrother; rabbits and tree-hares were plentiful and the birds more than willing to share a catch with a bondmate. Snowfire had already decided that he would see that Starfall ate and drank; if Starfall’s young bird failed to make a kill out of inexperience, Hweel was such a fine hunter that he could have supplied the needs of six people, not just three.

  He found Starfall sitting cross-legged in the center of a containment shield in the clearing beneath the willow branches. The Adept’s eyes were closed, but he sensed Snowfire’s presence as soon as the scout arrived, for he motioned to his visitor to sit and wait without ever taking his attention off what occupied him. Obediently, Snowfire did just that, taking weary pleasure in watching the way the light filtering down through the branches changed from pure gold, to reddish gold, to dark red, and finally to the blue of dusk. The clearing could have been in the heart of the deep Forest, it was so quiet and peaceful here, and Snowfire was content merely to rest both mind and body while he waited for the Adept to complete his current task.

  He did not even conjure a mage-light; he didn’t want to disturb either Starfall’s concentration or the delicate balances of power within the containment shield. So the ball of blue light that appeared above his head was the Adept’s, not his, and was Starfall’s way of telling him that the work was over for now. There was no outward change to the figure within the shield, but a few moments later the shield dropped away and Starfall stood up, stretching.

  “Here,” Snowfire said, handing him the meal. “Ayshen said I was responsible for making sure you eat. So what sort of progress have you made?”

  “The enemy mage is trying to consolidate power for himself, and he’s trying to work his way through all of the locks I put on the lines,” Starfall confirmed. “From the way he’s working, trying to bludgeon his way through, I think he’s under the impression that it’s crude work, possibly done by that master of young Dar’ian. I don’t think he realizes that there is still an active worker about, and I know he isn’t aware of me.”

  “As long as he keeps thinking that, I’ll be pleased,” Snowfire replied, helping himself to some of the berries.

  “I have the bare hint of a power-point out along the river,” Starfall continued, laying a slice of meat neatly on a slice of bread, and rolling them up together. “I’ll strengthen it gradually, as you are setting up the traps; he’ll notice, but it won’t be enough to tempt him. But once the traps are done, I’ll remove it and put it on a dyheli; then I’ll pour enough energy into it that it will look tasty, and I’ll have the dyheli move it farther down the river along the river path. At the same time, I’ll build an illusion around it of a heavily armed caravan moving away. I want to create the impression that the river has uncovered a talisman or artifact, and that someone found it and is carrying it off.”

  “Even if that isn’t what he thinks, he’ll still assume the caravan has something tasty and send his fighters.” Snowfire nodded with satisfaction. “It’s a good ruse. Just make sure your illusion won’t be broken.”

  “It shouldn’t be; I’ve gotten a dyheli doe to volunteer to carry it.” Starfall applied himself to the food. “I’m linking the power-point to her once she gets into position, but not before. I don’t want to have a moving power-point to attract his attention until then. And once we’re done, of course, I’ll gather it back in and use it as the core of the Heartstone.”

  Snowfire swallowed, and raised his eyebrows. “So you are going to make a Heartstone here?”

  “A small one,” Starfall confirmed, as he finished his first meat roll and built a second. “Not
powerful enough for a Clan Vale, and at any rate, it will take a long time before it has accumulated enough energy to be useful. It will be four or five years before anyone could use it to create even a small Vale.”

  Snowfire was not at all sure he liked the idea. He’d thought of several objections when Starfall broached the plan, and those objections hadn’t changed. “Still. A Heartstone out here? Why? And who are you going to link into it, besides yourself?”

  “Why? Why not?” Starfall responded, apparently surprised that Snowfire would object at all. “Sooner or later the k’Valdemar will produce a mage that can use a Heartstone—or we will want an outpost here. You have all complained at one point or another about the lack of civilizing amenities here; well, a Heartstone will make those things possible, eventually.”

  Snowfire grimaced. “And meanwhile? Wouldn’t it attract unwanted attention?”

  Starfall shook his head and took on a little of that arrogance that seemed to come with being an Adept. “Oh, do trust me to know my business, Snowfire; by the time I am finished with concealing it, only another Tayledras Adept who knew that it was there would be able to find it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Snowfire replied. “Never mind; what more can you tell me about this enemy mage?”

  “He’s certainly strong enough to be an Adept, or whatever these barbarians call such a thing.” Starfall folded and refolded the napkin pensively. “If it came to a fight, he’s not a match for me, but he would exhaust a great deal of my resources in defeating him. I don’t want to have to do that, and to keep from coming into direct conflict, I will have to be subtle. Subtlety requires time and concentration, rather than power. He’s powerful enough that it is going to take all my attention to keep him from breaking the illusion, finding our encampment, and tapping into the new matrix of ley-lines and nodes.”

  “Which means when we move against the village, you stay here.” Snowfire nodded. “I rather thought you’d say that. I can leave someone here on guard, if you like.”

  “Why not Nightwind and Kel?” Starfall suggested. “She’s a good shot, and he’s worth five fighters in intimidation alone.”

  “And it would keep him out of close combat; now that is a good idea.” Snowfire felt a bit more cheered. He’d been trying to think of a way to keep the gryphon from flinging himself into situations where he’d be a target rather than an asset, and this was perfect. Put him in the air and Nightwind at the valley entrance—put a couple of hertasi and dyheli in the valley right here, around Starfall’s ekele, acting as bodyguards—that would work very well. No matter how clever enemy fighters were, they wouldn’t get past the combined senses of a gryphon, hertasi, and dyheli. If somehow there was a concerted attack by a formidable group instead of an incursion of one or two fighters, Starfall would have warning, covering fire, and time to escape.

  And Kel would rightly see this as a trust and an important assignment—which it was—rather than an attempt to keep him out of combat—which it also was.

  “How are the traps coming?” Starfall asked, as Snowfire ran through his mental roster of hertasi and dyheli and made some tentative selections.

  “Not so badly that anyone is getting frustrated, and not so well that anyone is nervous, thinking that things are going too well. The hertasi are approaching it with their usual zeal, and they’ve been making enough trap parts that Kel’s had to struggle to keep up with carrying, even with dyheli helping,” Snowfire told him, and picked up a small twig to draw in the dirt with. “Here’s where the main deadfall will be, along the river. We got that done first, before sunrise this morning. We found a place where a flood undermined the sandstone of the bluff and cut under it a little farther; if there wasn’t a magical prop holding it up now, it would be down in an instant. There is going to be more than enough stone blocking the path that they aren’t going to want to go back that way. This morning, we cut a path and aged it, then made things so difficult on either side that they aren’t going to want to leave it.” He sketched in the path, leading away from the river. “We put in a log bridge over this ravine here that is going to fall apart as soon as anyone puts a foot on it. They’ll either have to rebuild the bridge or make a strenuous climb down and back up; in either case, they’ll be tired, and it’ll be dusk by the time they reach this clearing.” He made a circle and tapped it with the twig.

  “Then that is where they’ll stop,” Starfall eyed it with interest. “And that is when the hertasi and dyheli begin removing sentries and other woods-wanderers?”

  “And while some of them are doing that, the rest of the hertasi will be setting the traps we set up today along the trail they came up from the river on.” Snowfire grinned at Starfall’s look of surprise. “Exactly. No matter which way they try to go in the morning, they’ll run into man-traps. I didn’t see any reason to give them an unhindered path in any direction. By that time, they’ll already know they’re under attack, so there’s no point in putting a lot of effort into making traps that will look like accidents. When they trigger these traps, they’ll know it’s something left for them by an enemy.”

  “Good so far,” Starfall mused. “But you can’t get all of them with traps. So?”

  “So the man-traps themselves form a channeling-trap. Tomorrow when we set everything up, we’ll be leaving one easier direction—here.” He drew a sweeping arrow toward a patch of green moss. “They’ll come out into the clear, with no place to go for cover and a ravine at their back. It ought to be no difficult thing for the hertasi to pick them off with bows.”

  “And at any rate, by the time the survivors struggle back to the village, the rescue should be long over. I like it.” Starfall nodded decisively.

  “Even if the mage at the village can communicate with the fighters out here, they won’t be able to get back in time to do him any good. It’ll be the middle of the night, and the woods will be full of hertasi with knives and traps just waiting to be sprung.” Snowfire nodded, feeling very pleased with himself. “And to avoid leaving a trail back here to the encampment, we’re going to try to get the villagers across the bridge and take them downriver to that Kelmskeep place Dar’ian told us of. I think if anyone follows us, it will be that way, and I hope there will be a force to meet us from the Valdemarans.”

  “I have sent a message to Lord Breon of Kelmskeep, that reached the place today,” Starfall confirmed, but then frowned. “The thing is, I do not know if it will be heeded or even seen by the man himself.”

  “How did you send it?” Snowfire asked.

  “A written message, delivered by raven to the gatekeeper this morning; Raindance saw it through the bird’s eyes. She said he seemed startled.” Starfall shrugged. “It took the bird this long to reach Kelmskeep; the best we can hope for, I think, is that an escorting force meet you on the way.”

  Snowfire sighed, well aware that the Adept was right. Best to count on what they had, not what they hoped they would have.

  “Well, I leave all the magic doings in your capable hands,” he said.

  “And I will leave the rest in yours.” Starfall stood up and stretched, and walked back into the center of the clearing, where he took his seat again and closed his eyes. A moment later, the containment shield had sprung up around him. Snowfire whistled to Hweel, who was still gossiping with the cooperi, and the great owl launched himself into the air to follow him back to the main encampment.

  :What were you two chattering about?: he asked his bird. :You don’t usually have that much to say to the daybirds.:

  :Mates,: Hweel said shortly, then elaborated. :He may be young, but he has a mate. He has two fledges this year, now flying strong.:

  Snowfire sensed that there was more. :And?: he persisted.

  :They come, all five. His mate, mine, three fledges.: Hweel’s mind-voice was tentative, as if he was afraid that Snowfire would object to the arrival of his mate and young.

  That was the last thing on Snowfire’s mind. Although he wasn’t bonded to Hweel’s mate Huur,
she worked with Hweel so effectively when she wasn’t tending youngsters that he might just as well have been. And having a clumsy fledgling around wasn’t a bad thing as long as you could keep the youngster close to the camp.

  :I’ll be glad to see them,: he replied, and sensed the relief in Hweel’s mind. :It was clever of you to have his mate come with yours; the fledges will have protection by day and night on the journey.:

  Hweel huured, a contented little sound of pleasure from which his mate got her name. He liked being praised, and he had greatly missed his mate, so knowing that Snowfire would welcome her arrival made him doubly happy.

  It would be no bad thing to have a couple of unbonded birds along with the expedition either. They would make excellent camp guards, and if the unthinkable happened and someone lost a bird, there would be possible replacements at hand.

  Enough; concentrate on the immediate problem, he reminded himself. He needed to collect Darian and some paper and a charcoal stick; it was time to make a detailed plan of how to get into and out of the village.

  He’d left Darian about to take his turn in the bathing pool; by now the boy should be clean and ready for something to eat. Snowfire was terribly proud of him, for Darian had worked as hard as any of them, and had mastered his frustration admirably when someone didn’t quite understand what it was he wanted for a trap. The boy had matured a great deal in the last week, though it was clear every so often that he was still a boy.

  When this is over—he needs some time to play and be young, Snowfire concluded to himself. But right now, well, none of them could afford to be anything other than mature and responsible.

  He collected more meat and bread from the stores; the berries were gone, but when Ayshen heard who this next meal was going to, he pulled Snowfire aside and passed him a honeycake surreptitiously. “The hatchling didn’t get enough the last time I made them,” Ayshen said, as if daring him to challenge the statement. Since Snowfire had seen Darian stuffing himself with the coveted sweets, and knew Ayshen knew he had, it was clear that the hertasi had taken very strongly to the boy.

 

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