It was a strange conference, held in a clearing below Firesong’s borrowed ekele. Firesong’s hertasi scrambled to bring food and drink for the participants, some of whom, like Firesong himself, Darkwind, and Elspeth, had not eaten for some time. Food had not seemed particularly important to Darkwind, but of course to the hertasi, it was a source of much disapproval that they had neglected themselves. The lizards hovered all over them, but paid particular attention to Firesong. There were, predictably, twice as many hertasi attending him as anyone else.
The conference was also a small one; Iceshadow, representing the Elders and mages, Darkwind, Firesong, Wintermoon for the scouts, Nyara, the blade Need. Kethra sent her regrets that she could not attend; she would not leave Starblade’s bed. Elspeth had been reluctant to join in it, but at Firesong’s urging, she too took her place in the circle. Skif presented himself at Nyara’s side and would not be moved, and Darkwind urged the Companions to take places beside their Heralds as well.
The conference was interrupted immediately by yet another visitor, reminding them all that there was more at stake than just the Vale.
The kyree bounded into the group and planted himself right next to Nyara without even asking for permission. Darkwind recognized Rris immediately, by the jaunty tilt of his head and his alert eyes and ears. Firesong was somewhat taken aback by the kyree’s brashness, and Darkwind was so amused to see his reaction that he insisted that Rris be allowed to speak.
:I am sent from Treyvan and Hydona,: the kyree said, holding his head up and refusing to be intimidated by Firesong’s measuring glances. :Those are the gryphons, young cub,: he said then, with a kindly, patronizing tone to his mind-voice, turning to give Firesong a measuring glance of his own. :They are the allies of this Vale, and they wish to know what has happened. Beyond the obvious, that is - the action of Mornelithe Falconsbane and the death of the shaman.:
Darkwind hid his smile behind a cough. He himself had taken the time to send a message to the gryphons, but Rris had obviously been coached. And he had a shrewd idea by whom.
:They wish to know what you intend to do,: Rris continued blithely. :They have taken steps; they have fortified their lair, which lies near to the node in the ruins. They have shielded that node, so that no one may use it but themselves. And they have found the old, buried Gate and have shielded it, so that Falconsbane may not use it to return. But they must know what their allies intend as well. And they wish the council to know that, with the sword Need, they vouch for the Changechild Nyara; that they feel she is trustworthy, for they have been aware of her movements and actions since she left their lair.:
He lay down then, obviously very pleased with himself. Darkwind knew why; he had delivered Treyvan’s message word for word with the proper tone, and no one had interrupted him. Darkwind hoped that Firesong was reading that pleasure as a taste of Rris’ own self-conceit.
Young cub. I thought he was going to lose those eyebrows up into his hair.
But there was at least one surprise in all of that for him, as well; the gryphons had known where Nyara was and what she was doing. And they vouched for her.
Firesong might have lost the initial control of the council, but he regained it as soon as he stood up to speak.
“I have been lacking in forethought,” he said, quietly. “I have not thought that Mornelithe Falconsbane could still be a danger, if he even lived. That was an error, and one that has cost a precious life. Perhaps two; I do not know if the one called Dawnfire also perished with Tre’valen. I think it is time that we deal with both our problems in a coordinated fashion. Our first problem is the Heartstone, for until we remove it as a threat, Falconsbane can use it against us, as he nearly did earlier. Then we must deal with Falconsbane himself.”
He looked around the circle, and got nods of agreement from everyone. “To that end let each of us say what he knows, both of what happened this day, and what in the past may have been involved. Never mind that it has all been said before; there are going to be some of us that have not heard all the tale from all the participants.”
He began, with his perception of the attack. The various stories took some time to complete, but in the end, even Darkwind was satisfied. Some of the pieces were beginning to make a whole.
“Now that we have built the proper picture, I see two different needs that must be addressed at the same time.” Firesong shifted restlessly from foot to foot, “I know what must be done with the Stone, and those of you who are to help me should hear of this now, so that there is no more mystery. But what we are to do about Falconsbane, I do not know. I think that I would be of little aid there, for I am not well-versed in combative magics. I am not versed in combat, to speak of, at all, but I am not certain that direct combat, with magic or not, is the proper way to deal with him.”
Darkwind must have looked a little surprised at Firesong’s confession that there was something he did not know, for he caught the Adept’s sardonic glance in his direction.
“So this is my suggestion. That we have two councils. I shall have Elspeth and Darkwind, the gryphons’ representative - ” he bowed ironically to Rris, who only bowed gravely tack at him. “ - and the Companion Gwena. If Iceshadow and Wintermoon would care to lead the other, I think that Nyara may know some ways of countering her father. She will certainly know more of his ways and his stronghold than any of the rest of us. And surely the sword Need knows combat by magic and blade far, far better than I.”
:Thank you, youngster,: came Need’s dry response, broadcast clearly to all. :I do have a little experience there. :
Firesong’s eyebrows flew up into his hair again, but he did not comment. Wisely, Darkwind thought. One did not pick quarrels with edged wit or edged weapons. “When we have all reached some sort of conclusion, we will meet again as one, this time with the full k’Sheyna Council. Will that suit you all?”
“It suits me very well,” Iceshadow said cautiously. Wintermoon and Skif nodded. “Well, then, let us withdraw to my ekele, and leave this place to the others.”
Firesong made some show of finding a place to sit while the others followed Iceshadow down one of the paths. Only when they were completely out of earshot, did the young Adept sigh, and look from Darkwind to Elspeth and back.
“Here is what I intend,” he said, quietly. “Attend, sir kyree; you must carry this back to the gryphons as soon as I have done, for this is dangerous working that I propose, and I want - no, I need - them to participate.”
Rris nodded, and pricked his ears forward eagerly.
Firesong took a deep breath.
“I intend to shatter the Heartstone.”
At Darkwind’s instinctive move of protest, he shook his head. “No, not as Falconsbane sought to - and not releasing the energy wildly. Faceting a precious stone is not the same as striking it with a mallet. No, I intend to do this under complete control. First, I wish to prepare the Stone as if it were to become a Gate. Call it a proto-Gate. I shall work only with the energy tied to the Stone, but never the Stone itself. That will anchor all of the energy but not in a physical anchor.”
Darkwind nodded slowly. This made sense, but it was not something he would ever have considered. Everyone knew that creating a Gate anchored energy, but no one would have ever considered making a Stone into a Gate. It would entail circling the powers about the Stone from without; he did not even want to consider what would happen to someone who actually used such a Gate.
“K’Sheyna has prepared a new Stone in the new Vale-yes?” At Darkwind’s nod, he continued. “Once this stone is shattered, the proto-Gate will be drawn to the point of greatest attraction and to the point that is nearest in type to the old Stone. It will seek, we shall push it gently in the proper direction. That should be the new Stone, for both were created by the same mages. It will carry the remaining ley-lines with it. We can guide its movement from here.” “That’s not going to happen quickly,” Darkwind put in. “No. It will take several Adepts in relays to move it, and they will be working for several days to do so. But this should work.” Firesong looked to Rris. “The shielding will be undertaken in pairs; like the shielding when a Heartstone is moved, but with double the mages. The pairs will be male-female, to enforce the balancing. I wish the gryphons to be in the West, if they would. Can you tell them that, as well as all else you have heard tonight? Can you remember?”
:Surely,: the kyree replied, with a lift of his head that signified slightly offended pride. :I know every kyree history-song, every tale the Tayledras have shared with my clan, and all of the four-hundred and twenty-three tales of my famous cousin Warrl. Carrying what I have heard to Treyvan and Hydona is no great task at all.:
Darkwind felt his lips twitching.
:With your permission, I shall go, to them,: Rris finished. At Firesong’s nod, he was off, leaping across the circle and into the underbrush, presumably on his way back to the ruins.
Gwena chose that moment to absent herself, leaving only Firesong, Darkwind, and Elspeth. Darkwind was about to take himself off as well, when Firesong put out a restraining hand.
“There is trouble between us, Darkwind,” he said levelly. “That trouble has not been purged. There is trouble between you and the Wingsister, for you have not truly dealt with it. And there is trouble between Elspeth and myself, for there are some assumptions that she has made that I have not corrected.”
Darkwind’s stomach knotted with sudden tension. He would have liked to make an escape, but he did not dare.
“These must be dealt with, all, before we enter the circle together,” Firesong said but instead of turning first to Darkwind, he faced Elspeth.
“You have not been honest with Darkwind,” he said levelly.
“I - ” She started to protest, but the protests died on her lips under his stern gaze.
“You have not told him your true feelings concerning me,” the Adept continued. “He has sensed it, but you have avoided dealing with your own feelings, and with him. You have not told him the truth.”
“I - suppose not. I am very attracted to Darkwind. Very. But - you - ” She shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help it, and it isn’t just because you’re so infernally beautiful. Firesong - ” She blushed furiously, and hung her head. “I’ve never wanted anyone - physically - quite so much.”
Darkwind felt his jealousy rising to eat him alive. Had she been fantasizing that her lover was Firesong every time that the two of them had. . . ?
“Well.” Firesong nodded coolly, not in the least perturbed - or impressed. “You are not the first female to attempt to fling herself at me. Let me tell you that you are a good student, Elspeth, and worthy of the praise that I have given you. But you must know this; I am not as you think.” She shook her head, obviously not understanding. For that matter, Darkwind couldn’t imagine what Firesong was getting at.
“I am,” he said delicately, “the true descendant of your Herald Vanyel, on both sides of my family. It is from his blood that I have my power.” Then, before Elspeth could register that surprise, he continued. “I inherited more than his power.”
She shook her head; clearly she did not understand what he was trying to tell her.
He arched an eyebrow in Darkwind’s direction. “Perhaps I should be a little more explicit. Elspeth, while I am sure you are a very attractive woman to some, it is Darkwind’s hair that I would choose to braid feathers into if I could.” He licked his lips. “In point of fact, I have been wishing that since I first laid eyes upon him. Had he not put his own feelings toward you out where anyone could see them, I should already have done so.” And Firesong actually blushed.
Elspeth had thought she had come to the end of the surprises that living with the Hawkbrothers brought, but this last series had caught her flatfooted.
First, of course - that the famous Vanyel had left any offspring. There was no record of that in any of the Chronicles, and no hint of it in any of the songs and ballads. Then came the revelation that Firesong was the descendant of that child - or children. There was no reason to doubt him; he had never lied before, and why lie about something so stupid, something that couldn’t be proved or disproved here? Firesong already had plenty of status - and presumably fame - on his own; he surely didn’t need to boast of a bloodline like some fading, failed highborn. But the last surprise -
That he’s - dear gods, what do they call it here? Shay‘a‘chern ? Is that where we get shaych? Why am I thinking about where a word came from when - When he wants Darkwind and not me.... First came a rush of profound embarrassment. She hadn’t been made a fool of. She’d made a fool of herself quite nicely on her own, with no help from Firesong, making assumptions she had no right to make. She just wanted to crawl away and hide somewhere.
But then she was overcome by a flood of jealousy. But not of Firesong’s attraction to Darkwind. No, she was jealous - and afraid of - Darkwind’s possible attraction to Firesong. She knew the Tayledras were a lot more flexible about sexual matters than the people of Valdemar, even the Heralds. What if, now that Firesong’s preferences were out in the open, Darkwind preferred him to her?
She was so jealous she was literally sick. Her stomach and shoulders were in knots; her throat too tight to speak. Firesong was watching both of them, wearing an unreadable little smile, and measuring them from beneath his long white lashes. What was he thinking? Did he know how she felt? Was he amused?
Once again, she was dizzy with embarrassment, sick with the emotions warring for control of her.
She flushed, then paled, feeling herself growing hot, then cold, then hot again. Her ears burned, and the back of her neck; her hands grew cold, and she fought dizziness as she looked up with defiance into Firesong’s face.
There was no doubt that the Adept had at least some idea of her internal battling; Firesong’s smile increased, just a trifle. He tossed his head, sending his hair whipping back over his shoulders, and deliberately, tauntingly, lifted his chin at her. Then he grinned insolently, and turned away, walking off into the darkness, leaving his mage-lights behind him. She couldn’t look at Darkwind. She couldn’t not look at him. She tried to look at him out of the corner of her eye, but caught his eyes by accident and was forced either to meet his eyes or look quickly away. She chose the former.
He coughed, and she saw to her increased confusion - as if it could be increased any further - that he was flushed a little himself. No, more than a little; the peculiar illumination of the mage-lights tended to wash his color out. Her hands were cold, her face still flushed, but she no longer felt so sick.
“I feel like a fool,” he said, just before the silence became unendurable. “I feel like a true and crowned fool.”
“Well, imagine how I feel,” she said sharply. “Especially when I realized that I didn’t care a pin how he felt about me or you, but - ”
“But?” he prompted, and she flushed again, feeling her ears, neck, and cheeks burning.
She didn’t really want to answer him, but if she didn’t, she’d never know what his feelings were in the matter. “It really made me very unhappy to think you - might - ” She shook her head, and finally looked right at him. “All right!” she snapped, angrily. “I was jealous, if that’s what you wanted to know! I was jealous, because you might be more interested in him than you are in me!”
He simply watched her, soberly, without so much as twitching a muscle. He didn’t say a tiling, and now she was sick with embarrassment again. And with humiliation.
She knew, now that Firesong had pressed the issue and humbled her by forcing her to reveal things she had kept only to herself, that her attraction to Firesong had been nothing more than simple infatuation. It had only been complicated because she had so admired his competence, his intelligence, as well as his stunning looks.
But Darkwind was competent and intelligent. And her attraction to him was something a great deal deeper. Deep enough to move her to jealousy; deep enough to make her willing to make a fool of herself, if it came to that.
“I have been a fool,” Darkwind said quietly. “Even as you. Perhaps it was as much due to stress as anything else. We have been living a lifetime in the past few moons. We have both of us changed, sometimes profoundly. I can only take comfort in one of the Shin’a’in sayings - ‘No one has lived who has not been a fool at least once.’ And,” he summoned up a ghost of a smile, “with luck, we have had our entire lifetime’s foolery from this.” “Oh I hope so,” she replied fervently. “But there is one other thing. I think that one,” he nodded after the departed Firesong, “brings trouble with him as easily and purposefully as he brings baggage. I think that no matter where he went, he would leave unsuspecting folk in some kind of tangle. And I do think that at some level he enjoys doing so.”
Elspeth found herself smiling a little; the heat eased from her ears and neck, and her stomach calmed. “No doubt about it,” she said wryly, as her flush faded. “He would just revel in having the entire Vale fussing over him the way the hertasi do. I doubt he’d be happy if he wasn’t the center of attention.”
“Oh, and he would enjoy having us at odds over him as well,” Darkwind replied. “Make no mistake about it. He is aptly named. I suspect he leaves lovers strewn in his wake like old, dead leaves. He would take great pleasure in being the centerpiece of a quarrel, only to turn about and mend it. But he is too much the Healing Adept to allow that to happen now in a situation this important. In a quieter time, perhaps.”
“Well, he isn’t going to get another chance from me,” she replied firmly. “Let him go play his games with someone else.” She shook her head, and realized that the muscles of her neck and shoulders were aching with tenseness. “Look, after all that, I need a soak. Come with me?”
He smiled, and reached for her hand. She met him halfway. “A good notion,” he replied clasping his warm hand around her cold one.
Moments later, they were side by side in the hot pool below her ekele. She sighed as the heat and her own deliberate attempt to relax her muscles took effect, easing the stiffness and some of the pain.
It was very dark under the tree, and neither of them put up a mage-light to illuminate the shadows. He was a silent presence in the water beside her; not touching her, but there nevertheless. Above them the ever-present breezes of the Vale stirred the leaves of the tree; somewhere in the distance, a bird sang for a moment, then fell silent. Or perhaps it was someone playing a flute.
Darkwind lifted a hand out of the water, and the sound of drops falling from it to the pool seemed very loud. Elspeth emptied her mind and let it drift, full of nothing but the sounds around her.
“Do you think he meant that?” Darkwind said, finally.
“Do I think who meant what?” she asked, lazily.
“Firesong. Do you think he meant what he said about - ” Darkwind hesitated, “ - about me?”
“Why?” she asked, fiercely. “Because if you plan on taking him up on it, I’ll - I’ll - ” She sought desperately for the most absurd thing she could say. “I’ll scratch his big blue eyes out!”
Darkwind laughed, and she let relief wash over her again. “No, I do not plan on taking him up on it.”
“Good,” she replied. “Because in a cat-fight, I’d win.”
“I believe you would,” he said lazily.
“That’s because I’d cheat,” she continued.
“I know you would,” he chuckled.
Then she reached toward him and found his hand catching hers, pulling her toward him. She decided not to fight and let her body drift to his.
“You would do that for me?” he asked. “Fight, cheat - ”
“Well, fight, anyway. I’d only cheat if it was Firesong because he’d already be cheating.” He put his arm around her, and suddenly it was good just to rest her head on his chest and listen to the night.
“He probably would.” He took one or two deep breaths. “I do not think that you need to worry about Firesong, however.” Another breath. “Or shall I show you that, so that you truly believe me?”
“Please,” she said, surprising herself.
Then he surprised her.
Darkwind held Elspeth’s hand, facing Iceshadow and Nightjewel across the circle, the Stone standing ominously in the middle, half-obscuring the other couple. To the right, Treyvan and Hydona faced the crazed surface of the Stone with no sign of trepidation; to the left, Starblade and Kethra stood, hand in hand, in a peculiar echo of Darkwind and Elspeth’s own pose. In the middle of their carefully constructed circle was the Stone.
It showed its damage now, and not just to the inner eye. Trails of sullen red light crawled over its surface, strange little paths of lightning in miniature. Every line that could be severed from it, had been, and had been reattached to the node beneath the gryphons’ lair. That had taken a full day, with a working team of the gryphons, Elspeth, and himself - and Firesong and Need.
He had been surprised when Firesong appeared with the blade in hand, he was amazed when the Adept actually used Need’s powers. The two couples had held a warding about the circle, as the Adept and the blade together severed all but two of the remaining ley-lines and relocated them to the node beneath the lair. Firesong was not inclined to explain how he could use magics so openly feminine, and Need held her peace when Darkwind questioned the Adept. Elspeth was just as astonished. It was Nyara herself who had provided the answer, with an odd shyness, when he asked her. “He is balanced,” she had told Darkwind. “He is completely balanced between his masculine and feminine sides. So even as he can use man’s magic, he can also use woman’s magic, magic keyed only to females.”
“Such as what Need holds?” he had asked. She had nodded. “And since she is willing to do so, she can feed her power through his feminine side. She would not be able to do that, were he not so balanced.”
So although Nyara did not have the mage-strength to enter the circle and wield the blade effectively in this case, Need was there anyway, and lending her power to the isolating of the Stone.
Falconsbane, thank the gods, remained quiet during that day, and during the day that it took for Firesong - alone, completely unaided - to create the proto-Gate from the Stone’s remaining power. He would permit no one else within the shielded area. It was too dangerous, he said, and something about his unusual grimness made Darkwind believe him completely. Darkwind and Elspeth took a patrol on the edge of the Vale, encountering nothing more dangerous than a lone wyrsa, and returned to linger outside the shielded area, waiting for Firesong to emerge.
That was when he finally realized just what it meant to be a mage as powerful as Firesong. What it meant to be a Healing Adept, in terms of personal cost.
As the sun set, Firesong staggered across the invisible pass-through at the boundary and fell into their arms. No longer the arrogant, self-assured young peacock; he was drained, shaking, drenched with sweat. His very hair hung lank and limp with exhaustion. He was hardly able to stand, much less walk.
They held him up, Darkwind’s heart in his throat, until he told them in a hoarse voice that he was all right. “Just - tired,” he had croaked. “Very - tired. I have - called help.”
The white dyheli that had brought him to the Vale appeared at that moment as if conjured, and Darkwind helped the Adept up onto the stag’s back at his direction. “My hertasi are waiting,” Firesong had whispered, from under a curtain of sweat-soaked hair. “I told them what to expect, what I would require. Thank you for helping me.”
“Shall I get some other help?” Darkwind had asked, uncertainly.
The curtain of hair had shaken a faint negative. “They know what to do. It is their ancient function, I shall be well enough in a day or so.”
Darkwind had nodded and stepped back, letting the dyheli bear his burden away.
And Firesong had been well enough in a day, making a recovery that seemed little short of miraculous to anyone who had seen him the day before. It seemed he had recovery skills as remarkable as his other skills.
Darkwind and Elspeth had taken another turn as border guardians, with both of them expecting trouble from Falconsbane at any moment. But no trouble came, nothing more than some odd glimpses of shadow riders, who could have been little more than nerves and an overactive imagination. Certainly they left no traces on the fresh snow. At the end of that day, they had returned to find Firesong waiting for them, fully restored.
“Tomorrow,” he had said. “It must be tomorrow. Starblade and Kethra are not as strong as I would like, but Nyara is afraid that with every passing day, it becomes more likely that her father will strike again. Need agrees, and I will not underestimate Falconsbane again if I can help it. I will go to instruct the gryphons this evening, and we shall gather on the morrow.”
Darkwind still did not know exactly what passed between Firesong and the gryphons, but it must have been interesting. Hydona would surely have met his young arrogance with an arrogance of her own, and Treyvan would have deflated Firesong with a few well-chosen comments. Nevertheless, here they were, calmly prepared to do what they must.
And in the center of the circle, ready to strike when all was prepared - Firesong and Need.
The young Adept looked carefully at each one of his chosen pairs, meeting the eyes of each of them in turn. Darkwind brought his chin up and nodded in answer to that unspoken challenge, and Elspeth showed the ghost of a feral smile. What Firesong saw must have convinced him that they were ready, for he nodded.
“Let us begin,” he said simply, with no elaborate speeches. There was no need for speeches, after all. They all knew what they were to do, they had drilled together as much as they could. If they were not ready now, nothing anyone could say would make any difference.
Darkwind already held Elspeth’s physical hand; now he held out a mental hand, and felt her take it firmly, but without clutching. He let the power build between them for a moment, then he bent his attention (though not his eyes) to the left, where his father and Kethra stood. Elspeth turned hers to the right.
He sensed Kethra building the power between herself and Starblade; then having secured her ground, she bent her attention to him, and he held out another “hand” to her. She took it, fumbling a bit at first, then her “grip” firmed. It was the clasp of a warrior, for all that she was a Healer.
:But a Healer fights for the lives of her patients, does she not? As much a warrior as a bladesman,: Kethra said lightly; then she braced herself to make their bond as strong as possible.
On the right, he sensed Treyvan catching Elspeth’s extended “hand.” At that moment, the circle trembled for a heartbeat, until all the powers within it found their balance points. Male and female, human and gryphon, old and young; earth, air, fire, and water; Tayledras, Valdemaran, Shin’a’in, far-traveler. . . .
Then the unexpected; when the balance came, it brought with it a sense of wholeness and astonished joy, a lift to his spirits like nothing he had felt since the Heartstone shattered. He saw his surprise mirrored in Kethra’s eyes; felt it in the trembling of Elspeth’s physical hand in his. He wanted to shout, to laugh, to sing - this was how magery should be! This marvelous feeling of rightness!
Movement at the center of the circle caught his attention, and he looked up for a moment at Firesong. The young Adept was smiling, his eyes alight - and somehow Darkwind knew that the wholeness, the joy, came from him.
Was this how Firesong felt every time he worked magic? No wonder it was effortless for him ... no wonder he was willing to exhaust himself, drain himself to nothing, if this was his reward.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Darkwind wondered if he would ever feel this way again - knew he never would - and at the same time, knew there would always be a little of this whenever he worked a spell. The touch of the Healer Adept had given that much to him.
The eight of them bound themselves ever closer, with Elspeth weaving their power around and about the circle until it was no longer a circle, but a shell of energy as precise as a porcelain egg, as strong as sword-steel.
Firesong began to tap his foot. He could not bring a drum into the circle, for he could not use it and Need at the same time - but standing just behind Starblade and well within the danger area was Nyara. She caught Firesong’s rhythm, and began to drum with a skill Darkwind had not suspected of her. Darkwind picked up the rhythm within a few beats, moving his legs and loosening up; the others followed upon it. The stamping of his feet was enough like a dance that his own magic gained in strength; and where Elspeth’s light-weaving gave their construct form, his dancing gave it movement, making it dance, so that there were no weak places, and no places holding still long enough to be weakened by an attack.
He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the rhythm; sensing Elspeth holding firm beside him. Sensing Firesong waiting, poised above the waiting Stone, choosing his moment -
Then, he struck.
Need rang as she impacted the Heartstone pointfirst, but instead of the shriek of agony that Darkwind had expected, there came a single bell-like tone.
The sound filled the air and filled his soul; carried all other sounds away, drowning them, and he sensed that they must contain it, or it would ring through the Vale and shatter everything in its path.
Nyara threw herself into the drumming, and though he could no longer hear it, he felt it. He threw all of his power and will into the effort of holding - holding - holding until he thought he must fall.
He felt himself faltering, felt the circle faltering. He steeled himself and poured more energy in. He sensed a change in the tone.
It was weakening, fading away.
That gave him his second wind and the strength to keep his place, to keep the power contained. As it faded, so did his strength, but always just a little behind the tone so that his ability to keep it contained was just enough to do so.
Finally it was gone, faded into an echo, then into nothing.
He opened his eyes, swaying on his feet, and looked around. Firesong leaned heavily on the blade, which was buried to the hilt in a pile of uneven, dull-gray shards. Starblade leaned on Kethra’s shoulder, and even as he watched, Iceshadow and Nightjewel sank to the ground together. Even the gryphons’ heads were hanging down with weariness. But when Treyvan finally raised his head with an effort, and looked into Darkwind’s eyes, Darkwind saw satisfaction and triumph that mirrored his own there.
“Brothers,” came the weary voice from the center of the circle. “Sisters. We have succeeded.”
:Damn if we haven’t,: Need said, and even the sword sounded exhausted. :Damn if we haven’t.:
Firesong stood erect again, pulling himself up with an effort, and with a single gesture, banished the circle of power beyond them that had contained the rogue Stone for so long. He shared that power among them, equally, giving them all the strength to stand firmly again. Not much more than that, but at least they were no longer about to drop.
Darkwind did not need to close his eyes to sense the burning lens of power that had been the Stone and was now the proto-Gate. It hovered between this world and the world of Gates and ley-lines, affected by both - yet no longer the malignant, near-sentient thing it had been. Now it was only power. And now that the shields were down, the gryphons were able to draw safely on the clean power of their own node.
They lost their weariness, legs straightening, wings refolding with a snap, heads coming up.
Nyara entered the former circle quietly, and Firesong handed Need back to her with little bow of courtesy before he turned back to the gryphons. “Well,” he said, his voice already stronger, as he shared the power they were drawing from the node they had made their own. “And are you ready for the first stage of the move?”
“Lead on, featherrlessss one,” Treyvan said, cocking his head sideways. “And congratulationssss. That wasss well done.”
Firesong had that arrogant little smile back, but this time Darkwind was not going to fault him for it. This had been the most brilliant, innovative piece of magic he had ever seen - and, he suspected, was ever likely to see.
“Thank you,” Firesong replied with no show of humility at all, false or otherwise. “That was the hardest part. The rest, though it will be tedious, will be much easier.”
“Hmm. Yesss. Perrhapsss. It isss not wissse to count the eyassess until they arrre fledged.” Hydona roused her feathers with a shake, so much like Vree that Darkwind chuckled despite his weariness. “Ssstill, sssoonesst begun isss sssoon-essst done. Let usss deal with thisss prrroto-Gate of yoursss before it getsss the notion to wanderrr on itsss own.”
As the rest of them gathered themselves up and headed for the Council Oak, where the hertasi had assembled food and drink, Darkwind sighed with relief and squeezed Elspeth’s hand. The worst, indeed, was over. No matter what else happened, Falconsbane would not be able to destroy the Vale and Stone together. So for now, at least, they were safe.
Or as safe as they were likely to get, with Falconsbane still out there.
Still plotting. Still watching.
Still Falconsbane ... a terrible and implacable foe.