Darkwind woke to a cool, pebble-scaled hand shaking him awake. He raised his head from his pillow and blinked to clear his eyes.
It was still dark.
:Darkwind,: said the hertasi at his elbow, :There is a disturbance.:
He recognized the mind-voice as that of Suras, one of the three hertasi who had attached themselves to Darkwind when he moved back into the Vale. The lizard-folk did that; it was one of their many peculiarities. They simply decided who they wanted to serve and proceeded to do just that. One day, Darkwind was living in the clutter created by moving, and putting together his own meals; doing his own laundry and cleaning up after himself and Vree. Then, with no warning at all, he arrived home to find everything straightened, folded, and put away, and a meal waiting.
There were advantages and disadvantages to being back in the Vale. He’d felt a pang of displeasure at his loss of autonomy. However, with hertasi serving him, it was much easier for people to find him when he was needed. That, too, could be a disadvantage, especially when he was trying to sleep off the last time he’d been needed.
Suras patted his arm again. :Disturbance, Darkwind. You are needed, please.:
“What kind of trouble is it this time?” he asked – or rather, mumbled into his pillow - hoping it was something he could get someone else to take care of.
:Magical,: Suras said curtly. His tone told Darkwind everything he needed to know. He was not getting out of this one. :A magical disturbance between here and the ruins.:
No doubt about this; he, Gwena, and Elspeth were responsible for dealing with it. “I’ll be right there.”
Suras lit a lantern and vanished. Darkwind clenched his eyes closed, opened them reluctantly, and dragged himself out of bed. Vree roused and blinked sleepily, then yawned widely. :Awake again? Rather sleep.:
Darkwind yawned in response. “You and I both, beloved. I’ll go on ahead, and call on you if you’re needed. Fair enough?”
:You go. I sleep. Fair deal.:
Vree settled and tucked his beak under feathers again while Darkwind felt around for the clothing Suras would have laid out before waking him. I can’t say I wasn‘t expecting this, he thought glumly. But I wish it had waited until after sunrise to start. Maybe we should have just stayed with the gryphons.
He had known that when they worked a spell requiring that much power and concentration, things would be attracted. There were too many power-hungry creatures in the Pelagirs for any educated mage to think that magical workings of any scale could go unnoticed. Odd how much had gone into so simple and tiny a package as that hummingbird messenger, though.
Well, tiny, yes. Simple, no. There had been all manner of enhancements on that little bird, for speed, for endurance, plus the pocket of energy it would use to feed. Then all the spells needed to hold the message, to deliver it, to recognize the right kind of person to unlock it....
We did what we could to shield, everything we could spare from the spells themselves, without harming the little thing itself, he told himself. We did everything we knew how to do, but I suppose the bleedoff was noticed. There hasn’t been anything really troublesome around since the basilisk. If luck is with us, these things will be small. Something we can run off, rather than killing.
He dressed carefully, knowing that he would probably be spending the whole day out in the cold, wrapping his joints and neck in brushed-cotton and insulation. It was still dark by the time he descended the steps to the Vale floor, and he had no idea how long it would be until dawn. It was going to be a very long day indeed.
Another messenger dyheli came galloping closer just as they ran the younger of the lodella pair off with its fuzzy tail tucked down between its legs, all its dorsal spines flat, and its hairless head ducked low. The elder had already flagged its surrender with its retreating back, but the younger one had less sense and more bravado. They’d actually had to pound it a bit with hammer-spells before it gave up.
Darkwind waved to his partners, who came up beside him just as the stag neared. “Now what?” Elspeth asked, as she propped herself against her Companion’s neck, then shifted toward the saddle to avoid being caught in Owena’s steaming breath.
Elspeth hadn’t spent a lot of time in the saddle; the Companion had been far more effective helping as a third herder when they met with creatures that were willing to be shepherded away. It wasn’t just her size; she also seemed to be able to project a “presence” that played a factor in discouraging hostilities from the less-intelligent creatures.
These “disturbances” had actually included a fair percentage of “browsers”; creatures that meant no real harm, but could not be allowed close to habitations. But the rest -
The rest of the beasts facing them would have been only too happy to work some harm, but the beasts faced the three of them, plus the two gryphons, and Falconsbane was no longer there to support his creatures with magic.
The gryphons had tackled the first real problem; the half-dozen gandels that tried to force their way into the ruins. But without Falconsbane’s will driving them, they were inclined to fold at the first show of resistance. A few feints of Hydona’s claws and a stooping dive by Treyvan convinced them elsewhere would be far safer.
That set the tone for the day; to frighten the creatures away rather than actually closing to fight with them.
Illusions proved as effective as real threats; after the gandels, they had sent a pack of Changewolves running with the illusion of a bigger, stronger pack downwind facing them to claim the territory. Illusions were exhausting, though; they took more magical energy from the caster than actually fighting, but certainly left the user less winded, and less likely to strike at shadows. After a full day of active casting, though, illusions could deaden even the most ardent of j mages.
On the other hand, one generally doesn‘t get wounded casting illusions. Or bitten, gored, horned, or worse. As Vree would say, “Fair deal. “
It actually had a certain entertainment value, as he and Elspeth got into an impromptu contest over which of the two of them could create the most imaginative counter to the problem at hand. He’d conceded defeat when Elspeth began dropping huge illusionary clay pots on the dumber creatures’ heads, or sending blizzards of wildflowers in their faces. They’d both found themselves laughing after that.
So far, they had been incredibly lucky; the illusions hadn’t failed yet to drive away their targets, though once or twice they’d needed to reinforce the illusion with a bit of magical force.
The dyheli stopped and pawed at the snow, a signal for attention. Was their luck about to run out?
:You are called to the ruins,: the dyheli said, before Darkwind could ask him why he had been sent. :The gryphons say there is a message waiting for you there. Three of the Vale mages are following me, to take your place.:
Darkwind slumped against a tree in relief. He had completely forgotten that the mages of k’Sheyna would recover from their draining eventually. He had been so used to depending on himself and no one else, used to the idea that there was no one to relieve him. It had literally never occurred to him that someone would be along to take their places.
“So what is it?” Elspeth asked. “Who are we going to have to rescue this time?”
“No one,” he said, mentally thanking the messenger at the same time. “Believe it or not, no one. We’ve had a reply to our call for help. It came to the ruins, since that was where the hummingbird started from. Keyed to us, of course, so no one else can break into it.”
:Would that be the kind of personally keyed message we would have sent if we‘d been able?: Gwena asked, her tiredness fading as her interest was caught. :But it hasn’t been more than a day - I had no idea that little bird could fly that fast or far!:
“I hoped he would find a good carrying wind somewhere up above the clouds,” Darkwind told her. “That, and the enhancement spells we put on him would have made all the difference. Once k’Treva got the message, of course, it wouldn’t take them very long to reply - they knew where to send it and who to send it to; it takes a little longer than straight Mindspeech, but not much.”
“Then the bird probably reached them just as we tackled the wolves,” Elspeth replied thoughtfully. “It hardly seems possible, but I suppose that if a falcon can be carried off for hundreds of leagues by a high wind, there’s no reason why a hummingbird couldn’t have that happen to him, too.”
She straightened, and looked around. “We’re going to have to walk,” she told Darkwind. “Gwena is in no shape to carry us.”
She bent down and scooped up a little snow, and rubbed Gwena’s forehead with it. When Gwena didn’t protest that she was fine, thank you, Darkwind figured that Elspeth was right. While the Companion hadn’t been working any direct magic, she had been acting as an energy source for both of them, plus giving the more timid creatures a good scare when she charged them. She must be as exhausted as they were.
“That’s all right,” he said. “It isn’t that far.” He oriented himself, recognizing a clump of mingled evergreen and goldenoak, stand of willows, and a rock formation. “We’ve been working in circles, actually. We’re hardly more than a dozen furlongs from the edge of the ruins.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Elspeth asked.
“For me to get my second wind,” he told her. “I haven’t your youthful resilience.” She chuckled. He closed his eyes for a moment, drew up reserves of energy, then pushed away from the tree he had been leaning on. “Let’s go see what the news is.”
The visible component of the message was a tiny, incandescent spark that danced in the air above the exact center of the crude building in the ruins. It brightened as soon as they entered the building, and the moment they were both in place, with Darkwind to the east of the node and Elspeth beside him, the spark flared suddenly.
Then it - unfolded, was the only word Darkwind could think of. It stretched down in a line that just touched the ground, then the line opened up on either side, until it formed a soft-edged mirror that hung in the air between them.
For a moment, Darkwind saw only his own reflection. Then the mirror dimmed and darkened to blue starlight, and the face of another Tayledras, this one a contemporary of his father at a guess, looked solemnly out at him.
It was hard to remember that this was only a message, that he could not actually speak to the one in the mirror, any more than he could hold a conversation with a piece of parchment. The illusion was so complete that it took an effort of will to keep from greeting the stranger.
:K’Treva has heard the need of k’Sheyna,: came the mind-voice of the stranger. : While we are grieved by your situation we are relieved that you came at last to us. We feared for you but saw no way to help you without acting like tyrants or well-meaning but intrusive siblings.:
Darkwind nodded; that made sense. No Clan interfered in the affairs of another without some kind of truly catastrophic emergency involved.
:We have the help you need,: the other continued, :A Healing Adept, strong and well-versed in his craft, and who is one of the most creative mages this Clan has ever held.: The other smiled, briefly. :Such praise may seem excessive, but as the Shin’a’in saying goes, “It is no boast when it is fact.” I will build him a Gate to a place I know within your territory, one that I hope will be far enough away that it will not disturb your Stone. From the Gate terminus, I believe it will be about a half day’s ride to your Vale under good conditions, and certainly no more than a full day. Expect him within that time once you feel the perturbations of the Gate. If Firesong cannot help you, no one of k’Treva can. Be of good cheer, brothers.:
With that, the entire construction sparkled and winked out. Darkwind stared across the room at Elspeth, unable to believe their good fortune.
“You look like a stunned bird,” she observed.
“I feel like a stunned bird,” he admitted. “It’s incredible.”
“I have to tell you,” she said, shaking off her daze, “I was standing here waiting for the ax to fall. I never thought there’d be anyone in the first Clan we sought help from powerful enough - and willing - to handle this mess. Especially not after what it did to our mages.”
“Nor did I,” he admitted. “I thought that surely even if there was a Healing Adept within k’Treva that we would have to convince him to come here. And then we would have to convince his Clan to permit him to put himself at risk. They must have been convinced already that we needed their help and were just waiting for us to ask for it.”
Elspeth crossed the room to stand closer to him. “Was I missing something, or did he imply that he was here after the Stone shattered and that his Clan was worried about yours?”
Darkwind winced, but felt comfortable enough with her now not to bother covering it. “You are correct. He said - or implied - exactly that.”
Memories, though dimmed with time, still had the power to hurt him. Heart and mind in agony, as well as body - the dim shapes of strangers in his sickroom. Shock holding him silent in the face of their gentle questioning. Then the voice of his father, harshly telling them to leave the boy alone. . . .
“Right after the Stone shattered, I was told that k’Treva sent mages to discover what had happened and to volunteer their help,” he told her. “I was - still in shock, hurt, and I do not recall most of it. But they went away without doing much except to help treat some of the worst wounded. I suppose that Father must have sent them away as soon as he could.”
“Evidently if he tried to cover things up, he didn’t manage as well as he thought he had,” she replied, dryly. “Not if they were still concerned after all this time.”
“Or he managed to let them see enough that there were still doubts; kept from completely covering things up, despite Falconsbane’s control.” That seemed the more likely, given what else Starblade had done. Like protecting his son by driving him away. . . .
Elspeth shook her head. “I wonder sometimes if you realize just how strong your father is. When you think what that kind of attempt must have cost him ... I can’t imagine doing half that much. It took some kind of cleverness, too, to get around Falconsbane’s compulsions. Starblade’s a strong man.”
“It is a brittle strength,” he replied, sadly. “And like a bit of metal that has been bent too often, he is apt to break if he is stressed again.” He shook his head. “Ah, this is gloomy thinking and poorly suited to our good news. Who knows? It may speed Father’s recovery.”
“It might at that.” It seemed to him when she stood up that she moved with a bit more energy; certainly he felt that way. A great burden had been taken from his shoulders. K’Sheyna would have the help it needed. The long nightmare would soon be over.
He refused to think beyond that. There would be time enough for plans later. Let the Stone be dealt with first, and worry about what followed that when the time came.
He stopped at the gryphons’ lair long enough to give them the good news, then they trudged back to the Vale through the snow, though it was nowhere near the job it was yesterday. They had been this way so often they were making a trail between the ruins and the Vale. A few months ago he would have worried about that, but not now. There wasn’t any real reason to worry about leaving signs of where they had been. He sighed with relieved contentment, and relaxed a bit more, feeling muscles unknot all over his back. Shortly this would all be true Tayledras land again, and things like the Changewolves would not get past the borders -
:Up! Help!:
His head snapped up to a call only he heard. Vree!
He froze where he stood and linked with the gyre, fearing the worst. Dawnfire and her redshouldered all over again. Elspeth and Gwena stared at him for a half-heartbeat, then went into defensive postures. He prepared to break the link with Vree if he had to, to save himself -
- but caught no pain, no feeling of imminent danger. Vree felt him link and welcomed him in, his mind seething with agitation but not pain. He had given a distress call, but the bondbird himself was uninjured.
:Here! Help! Look-look-look!: the bird Mindcalled again, and this time gave Darkwind a look through his eyes.
A disorienting look; for Vree circled and twisted wildly, but Darkwind was used to looking through his bird’ eyes. He recognized the spot immediately; on the edge of the swamp, but he did not recognize the man that was the source of Vree’s anger and distress, a man laying out what could only be a hertasi trap. The view dipped and swung, as Vree circled, his silent rage burning in Darkwind’s mind, making the Tayledras clench his fists and longed with the bird to screech out a battle-cry. Then with another turn, Darkwind saw what must have triggered that rage.
The man had three pack-mules with him, and on the third was a raptor, a big one, bound on its back and hooded. From the little he could see, it looked to be a crested hawk-eagle; from the size of it, it could only be of bondbird breeding.
He had no idea that he was running until he saw Elspeth pounding beside him, already astride her Companion, and offering him a hand up. He seized it, and scrambled behind her. Then they were off, plunging through the thick snow. This was not like the last wild ride he’d made, for Gwena could not run or trot in the heavy snow. Her progress was a series of lunges or leaps; it was harder for him to keep his balance on her back, but easier on his bones.
Their quarry knew they were coming, for they made no effort to hide the noise of their passage. But their quarry did not know two very pertinent facts.
He was nearer the hertasi village than he knew. And while they were sluggish in the cold, they were by no means impotent. Anger alone was enough to keep their blood warm in the snow and give them the same agility they had in the high heat of summer. They, too, could dress for the cold and preserve some body heat when action outside was needed.
And although the encroaching mage had prevented the bondbird he had caught from calling its distress, Vree was under no such handicap. Nor was Darkwind; while he was nowhere near as adept at Mindspeaking with other creatures as his brother Wintermoon, he was still one of the best in the Clan. The soundless cry went out for assistance.
While Vree was calling his fellow bondbirds, Darkwind was rousing the hertasi village, starting with old Nera. The attack was conceived and coordinated in a matter of moments. The three forces converged on their target at nearly the same instant.
If the mage - for mage he was; he had a lightning-flare ready for them the moment they plunged over the top of the hill and began the sliding descent toward him - had only had to face Darkwind and Elspeth, he might have won. They were tired, and he was fresh. If he had only faced the hertasi, with their simple fishing spears, he would have won.
And he had already proven he was capable of felling bondbirds from the sky.
But, since only Darkwind’s party was making any noise, he had no idea that the others were on the way until it was too late to do anything about them.
Darkwind flung a shield up before them to deflect the first bolt. The second went awry as Vree dove, his claws ripping through the cloth of the man’s hood, narrowly missing the scalp. Behind Vree came another forestgyre, in the same stooping dive, then a gyrkin, then a trio of perlins, all of them slashing at head and face with their long, sharp talons. They struck to hurt, not to bind; the perlins in fact struck close-fisted, as if they were trying to knock a duck out of the sky. The mage screamed in pain as the talons scored deep gashes in his scalp; staggered under the blows of the perlins, any of which would have been hard enough to stun him had they hit the temple.
He tried to protect himself with his arms. Apparently, like most Pelagir-wilds mages, there were severe gaps in his education. He seemed unable to summon any physical shields.
The birds retreated to the protection of the skies, gaining altitude as one. The mage stood, one hand on his bleeding scalp. From behind him, a thicket of spears boiled up out of the half-frozen swamp.
Darkwind struck then, gesturing behind Elspeth’s back with two clenching fists. Gray and green stripes of a binding spell tangled the mage’s hands and his magic for a moment. That moment was all that was needed. The hertasi did the rest.
They swarmed about the mage, casting their fishing spears and pulling on the lines. He tried to run, then slipped and floundered in the heavy snow. He scrambled to his feet again, and fell for the last time. The hertasi overran him, and he writhed to avoid the wicked points of the spears.
In moments, he looked like nothing so much as a hedgehog. In heartbeats, he was dead.
Gwena skidded to a halt in the snow beside the man’s string of pack animals, a trio of tired mules who gazed at them with absolute indifference. Darkwind slid down off her back and hurried to the last one, the one bearing the bird like just another bundle of forest gleanings.
This much the man had known; he had bound the talons into fists, tied them together, bound the wings to the body so that it would not injure itself, then hooded the bird so that it could not see and would not struggle. The hood was strung to the bound feet by a cord, to prevent further movement, and from the cord dangled a carved bead.
As Darkwind’s hands touched the bundle, he felt - something. It was akin to the draining effect of the Heartstone, and was centered in that bead, and spread throughout the bindings.
He drew back and examined the bird with mage-sight - and swore. Small wonder he had not Heard the thoughts of this bird; it was bound by magic as well as by bands of fabric, a binding that linked its life-force to the spell that held it. And that could only have been for one purpose.
Elspeth bit her lower lip and peered at the bindings on the captured hawk-eagle. Her face looked as it did when she was hearing news she didn’t like.
“He was going to use this bird as some kind of sacrifice, wasn’t he?” Elspeth said, her own voice tight with anger. She put a hand toward the hawk-eagle. “That’s not all, Darkwind, this bird is in pain. He hurt it when he caught it.”
She had been quicker than he; though she could not sense the bird’s thoughts, she had felt its pain. He was glad he hadn’t touched the poor thing; he could only have hurt it worse, unknowingly.
First things first; destroy the mage-bindings so that the bird’s mind could roam free and it could hear his Mindspeech. Until then, it would struggle against him, thinking he was an enemy, hurting itself further.
The man had been a Master, but no Adept; Darkwind snapped the shackles of magic with a single savage pull but left the physical bindings in place. With a carefully-placed dagger cut, he removed the carved bead. Beneath the bindings, the bird was in a state near to shock, but not actually suffering from that ailment. Darkwind could still touch its mind, talk to it sensibly, and know he would be heard.
He stretched out his thoughts - carefully, gently, with a sure, but light touch.
:Friend,: he said, soothingly.
The hawk-eagle tossed up its head as far as it could and struggled fruitlessly against the bindings. :NOT!: it Screamed.
:Friend,: Darkwind repeated firmly, showing it a mental picture of its former captor lying in the stained snow. :The Enemy is dead.:
The bird struggled a moment more, then stopped. Its head came up again, but this time slowly, as fear ebbed and the bird’s courage returned. It considered his words for a moment, and the image he had Sent; considered the sound of his mind-voice.
:See!: it demanded imperiously.
“I’m going to unhood him,” Darkwind warned. The hertasi backed off, but both Elspeth and her Companion stayed. “I don’t know what he might do. He’s bondbird stock, and right now he’s sensible, but he may go wild once he can see again.”
Elspeth reached forward with gloved hands. “You need four hands to undo those wrappings. I’ll take my chances.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” No matter how intelligent, bondbirds were raptors, and likely to do unexpected things when injured and in pain, even one like Vree, brought up from an eyas and bonded before he was hard-penned. And this bird had never bonded to anyone. Still, she was right, and the sooner they got the bird untied, the more likely it was to listen.
The bird had been hooded with an oversize falcon’s hood; a little too small; uncomfortable, certainly, and it would have been impossible for the bird to eat or cast through the hood. But Darkwind doubted that this man had made any plans to feed his catch, through the hood or otherwise. He got the end of one of the ties in his teeth, and the other in his free hand, and pulled, continuing the motion with his hand to slip the hood off the magnificent hawk-eagle’s head.
It blinked for a moment, as the feathers of its crest rose to their full, aggressive height, the pupils of its golden eyes dilating to pinpoints as it got used to the light. Then it swiveled its head and saw for itself what Darkwind had shown it.
It opened its beak in a hiss of anger and satisfaction, then turned those intelligent golden eyes back to Darkwind. :Out,: it demanded, flexing bound wings once in a way that left no room for doubt about what it meant. :Outl:
It seemed calm enough, if still in pain. :Let me get your feet free first,: he replied. :Then you can stand while I get the rest of this mess off of you.:
Once again, the bird gave careful consideration to what he had said, weighing his reply against what it wanted. Darkwind marveled at the bird’s intelligence; even Vree seldom thought about what Darkwind told him.
:Good,: the hawk-eagle said shortly, and stopped any effort to free itself. It held itself completely still, and while Elspeth held the huge creature, Darkwind picked delicately at the mess of rags and string muffling the hawk-eagle’s talons and tying them into fisted balls.
Finally he got them free, and Elspeth placed the bird on the saddlepack. Its talons closed convulsively on the leather, and it flexed its claws once or twice to assure itself of its balance.
The hawk-eagle stood on the saddlepack and looked Darkwind straight in the eyes. :Good,: it said. :Out now!:
It waited while they picked the wrappings from its bound wings, talons digging deeply into the leather covering of the pack. Those talons were as long as Darkwind’s fingers, and the cruel, hooked bill would have had no trouble biting through the spine of a deer. Darkwind wondered at the temerity of the dead man who had caught the bird, mage though he was. Vree could kill a man, with enough precision - and had done so in the past. This bird was nearly double Vree’s size, and not only could kill a man, he could do it as easily as Vree killed a rabbit.
If the hawk-eagle hadn’t been of bondbird stock - and hadn’t Mindspoken with such clarity and relative calm, given the situation - Darkwind would never have dared to unhood him. It would have been suicide. The bird could have seriously hurt him, even bound, with a swift stroke of that terrible hooked beak.
When the last binding had been cut, the magnificent hawk-eagle spread wide, brown-banded wings to the fullest - and winced, dropping the left one immediately. The wing continued to droop a little, after he had folded the right and tucked it up over his back.
He looked at Darkwind demandingly. :Hurts,: he said. :Chest hurts, wing hurts. Hurt when fell.:
Darkwind ran careful hands over the bird’s breast, and quickly found the problem. A cracked wishbone. There was only one cure for that injury; resting quietly, while the bone set and mended. It would take weeks to heal properly, for bone Healing did not work well on birds, and the great hawk-eagle might never fly with the same ease and freedom again. Winter would bring special problems; cold would make the old injury ache, and the stiffness in the wing would make it harder to catch swift prey.
A tragedy - if he continued to live wild. No special problem - if he lived in the Vale.
But a bondbird, when not bonded as a fledgling or even an eyas, was traditionally given a choice. Freedom, or the bond.
Darkwind explained it to the hawk-eagle in simple terms. If he would come and live in the Vale, his life would be thus. He would bond to Starblade, who was himself wounded and in need of healing. . . .
It was not his imagination; the bird’s interest, dulled by the pain he was in, sharpened at that.
:Show,: he demanded. Darkwind obeyed, showing him mental images of Starblade as he was now - and one of Starblade and his cherished perlin Karry.
:Yes,: the bird said, thoughtfully. :Ye-es.: He dropped his head for a moment, and it seemed to Darkwind that he was thinking. Then his head came up again, and he stared directly into Darkwind’s eyes. :I go - we go to that one,: he ordered, :To warm place, to wounded one. We belong, him, me. Need, him, me.:
And although Darkwind dutifully offered him his continued freedom after healing, the bird refused to consider it. :We go,: he insisted, and Darkwind gave in gladly to him, but with no little wonder. He had never had a bondbird speak so clearly to him - nor had he ever seen one exhibit genuine abstract thought before. There was no doubt in his mind that the bird was quite certain Starblade needed him. And there was no doubt that the bird had responded to that need.
He had heard that the crested hawk-eagles were different, that way - that they had a greater capacity for bonds of affection than any other breed. They often hunted in family groups and shared kills in the wild, something most other raptors never did. But no one in k’Sheyna had one of their kind, so he had only hearsay to go on.
Until now, that is. And he wondered; since no one in k’Sheyna had ever flown the crested hawk-eagles, where had this one come from?
“I was following that, a little,” Elspeth said as she dumped the packs from the mules, leaving them for the hertasi to paw over. “So he does want to come with us?”
“So it would seem,” Darkwind replied, a bit amazed by how readily the bird had fallen in with their idea. Could it be a trap of some kind?
:Stupid,: Vree said contemptuously, from his perch in the tree above. :Hyllarr goes to Vale. Gets good food, warm place, safe place, hunts only when he wants. Gets good friend. Hyllarr wants good friend, mind-friend. Hyllarr flies, he gets winter snow, summer storms, has to hunt, get hurt again, dies alone.:
Darkwind laughed, and so did Elspeth, though she looked a little surprised that she could hear the gyre’s “voice.” “Put that way, it makes all the sense in the world, doesn’t it,” she said, with a bright sparkle in her eyes. “Here - ” she offered her leather-clad arm. “I’ll take him for a moment while you get up on one of those mules. Then I’ll pass him back when you’re mounted.”
Hyllarr looked at her arm for a moment, then directly into her face - and with a delicate care that in no way hid the fact that his talons could pierce through her arm if he chose, he stepped onto her forearm and balanced there while Darkwind hoisted himself onto a mule’s back. Elspeth blanched and inhaled abruptly when Hyllarr dug in while balancing himself.
No point in doing anything with the others. He would leave them to wander or follow as they chose; if they followed his mount to the Vale, someone there could always put them to good use. If they didn’t, they would survive - or not - as their fate and wits decreed.
Elspeth held the hawk-eagle - Hyllarr, she reminded herself - steadily, despite the fact that it was a heavy weight, there on her wrist. But once he got himself settled, and before he could reach out his own wrist to take the bird back, Hyllarr half-spread his wings and hopped from Elspeth’s arm to Darkwind’s shoulder.
He tensed, expecting the talons to close through his leather coat and into the flesh beneath. But Hyllarr shifted a little, getting his balance, and then closed his feet slowly, carefully.
:Hurt?: he asked Darkwind, increasing the pressure a little more.
:No - no - there.: As the claws just pricked his skin, he warned the bird, and Hyllarr eased off just that trifle needed to pull the talons back through the leather.
:Good,: the bird replied with satisfaction. :No hurt. Good. Go to warm place now.:
That was an order, if Darkwind had ever heard one. He turned to Elspeth, to see her own eyes alight with laughter and a little wonder. “I heard him that time!” she exclaimed. “I think - maybe - I’ve got the knack of talking to the bondbirds now. They’re kind of - pitched higher man human mind-voices.”
“Yes, exactly,” he replied, as pleased by her accomplishment as she was. “That’s excellent! Well, then, you heard. We’ve gotten our marching orders.”
She eyed the long, sharp talons - the fierce beak - and grinned. “You know, given where he’s perched right now, I wouldn’t argue with those orders if I were you.”
“I don’t intend to,” he assured her, and kicked the mule into a reluctant walk toward the Vale, Elspeth and Gwena following.
When Darkwind turned the mule over to the hertasi, he got them to find a stout branch that he could brace across his shoulder and hold with one hand. That gave Hyllarr a much more secure perch, and one that eased Darkwind’s aching shoulder quite a bit. He was going to be very glad when he delivered the bird to his father. After that, Starblade could figure a way to carry him; it would no longer be Darkwind’s problem.
The hawk-eagle reveled in the heat of the Vale, rousing his feathers with a careful shake and raising his crest fully. Darkwind had decided on a tentative approach to his father on the slow ride to the Vale; now it only remained to convince the bird to cooperate.
He got Hyllarr’s attention with a little mental touch, the kind he used with Vree.
:?: Hyllarr replied, definite feelings of relaxation and satisfaction coming along with the reply.
:Starblade is hurt,: he said, hoping he could convey the complex idea in a way the bird would understand.
:Hurt,: Hyllarr agreed. And waited.
That was encouraging. :Starblade is proud,: he continued, showing the bird an image of Hyllarr himself, hurt, but refusing all aid, trying to fly and unable to.
:Proud,: the bird said, agreeing again. Then, :Stupid. Like first year. Try too much.:
:Exactly!: Darkwind said, astonished that the bird understood so much. He was to have an even bigger surprise.
For suddenly, Hyllarr drooped on his shoulder, dropping the injured wing even further. :Hurts,: the bird moaned, making little chirps of distress. :Oh, huuuurts. Need Starblade! Need Starblade, make better!:
Then the bird straightened again, a distinct gleam of humor in the eye nearest Darkwind. :Good?: he asked. :Good for proud Starblade?:
Darkwind wanted to laugh, both at the bird’s astonishing ability to act and at Elspeth’s expression. “I’m as surprised as you are,” he grinned, then returned his attention to the bird.
:Very good!: he replied. :Exactly right!:
The bird roused again with satisfaction. :Hyllarr plays hurt-wing-eyas, Starblade feels good, Hyllarr gets many good eatings, tender eatings, tasty prey, make Hyllarr better. All good.:
“You,” he said, shaking an admonitory finger at the bird, “are going to wind up too fat to fly.”
Hyllarr bobbed his head to follow Darkwind’s fingertip, then blinked in mock drowsiness. Darkwind felt his amusement. He turned his head to look at Elspeth, who was fairly bursting with laughter. “Don’t you dare give this away,” he warned. “I don’t know how Hyllarr managed to grasp it, but Father really does need him. This is going to make all the difference in his recovery, if we don’t ruin everything.”
She nodded. Darkwind smiled his thanks to her.
As soon as they were within sight of Starblade’s ekele, he gave a silent cue to the hawk-eagle, who immediately went into full droop, complete with weak, pathetic chirps.
Weak they might have been, but Starblade heard them readily enough. He appeared at the door of the ekele, leaning against it heavily, with Kethra supporting him from behind, his face full of concern. “Darkwind?” he said, peering down at them in the gloom of late afternoon, “What is wrong with - ”
His eyes widened. “That is not Vree!”
Darkwind gave his father a brief version of the rescue. “Hyllarr needs quiet, and someone to care for him, Father.
He’s in a lot of pain. I don’t have the time to coax him to eat or keep an eye on that injury - and Kethra’s a Healer, I thought she might be able to help him a little.”
Hyllarr chose just that moment to raise his head and look directly into the elder Hawkbrother’s eyes. :Hurts,: he said plaintively. :Oh, huuuuurts.:
Darkwind suspected that he himself might have worn that stunned expression a time or two. The first time Vree spoke directly into his mind, perhaps. But it was more than he had expected to see it on Starblade’s face.
It was only there for a moment; then it was replaced by concern and something else. A fierce protectiveness - and the unmistakable look of the bondmate for his bird. “Bring him up,” Starblade ordered, turning to go back inside.
Darkwind struggled up the stairs as best he could with the weight of the bird on his shoulders, overbalancing him. He managed to make it to the door of the ekele without mishap, but he had a feeling that the next time Hyllarr went from ground to door, it would be under his own power. Starblade was not going to be up to carrying Hyllarr any time in the near future.
One of the hertasi squeezed by him as he moved inside, and Kethra met him at the door itself. He tensed himself for her disapproval, for Starblade was moving about the room, putting things aside, readying a corner of the place for the “invalid.” But her eyes were twinkling as she asked, “Will he let me touch him?”
“Yes, I think so,” Darkwind replied, and as Kethra placed a gentle hand on the hawk-eagle’s breast-feathers, she leaned in to whisper in Darkwind’s ear.
“You just gave him the best medicine he could have had,” she said softly, “Something to think about beside himself. Something stronger and prouder than he was, that is hurt as badly and needs as much help. Thank you.”
He flushed, and was glad that it wasn’t visible in the darkness of the room.
“He has a cracked keel and wishbone, ke’chara,” Kethra said to Starblade, who had taken spare cushions from beneath the sand pan all Tayledras kept under their birds’ perches, and in the case of Starblade’s ekele, for guests’ bondbirds. “He must be in tremendous pain. It will take a great deal of care for him to fly again.”
“He’ll have it, never fear,” Starblade said, with some of his old strength. “You brought him to the right place, son.”
His eyes met Darkwind’s and once again Darkwind flushed, but this time with pleasure. Starblade actually smiled with no signs of pain, age, or fatigue. Darkwind’s heart leapt. That was his father!
Before he could say anything, the hertasi returned, with two of his fellows. Two of them bore bags of sand for the tray; the third had an enormous block-perch, as tall as the lizard, and very nearly as heavy. The perch went into the tray, and the other two hertasi poured their bags of clean sand all around it, filling it and covering the base of the perch for added stability. Kethra stood aside and watched it all, a calculating but caring expression on her face, curling a length of hair between her fingers.
Darkwind took Hyllarr over to his new perch; the bird made a great show of stepping painfully onto it, but once there, settled in with a sigh; a sigh that Darkwind echoed, as the weight left him. He put a hand to his shoulder and massaged it as he headed toward the exit; Kethra nodded to him with approval.
Starblade took his place beside the perch. The look of rapt attention on his father’s face was all Darkwind could have hoped for, and the look of bliss in the bird’s eyes as Starblade gently stroked under his breast-feathers was very nearly its match.