Winds Of Fate v(mw-1 Page 33

  Vree, for his part, hopped down to a rock that stood just shoulderheight to the youngsters; he spread his wings and the little ones huddled up to the rock, one on either side, trying to cower under his wings the tone of their cries changing from frantic to merely distressed. Vree replied to them with reassuring chirps of his own, "protecting" them with his wings.

  It would have been funny, if the little ones hadn't been in such distress.

  Whatever the cause of their fear, it could be dealt with later, once Treyvan and Hydona were settled into their nest, and the hertasi Healer brought to help them.

  He left Treyvan leaning up against the stones with Vree and the little ones, while he helped Hydona into the nest-area to clean her wing wound.

  The bolt had passed completely through the wing, leaving a ragged, round hole. It needed a Healer; there was no way for him to bandage it properly. and it continued to ooze blood, despite the primitive pressure-bandage he put on it. She clamped her beak shut and obviously tried not to complain, but moaned softly despite her best efforts as he bound the cloth in place. Darkwind found himself sweating and apologized clumsily for her pain. He returned to help Treyvan into the nest, keeping the little ones back until the still-unsteady gryphon had settled himself.

  "I'm going to get the Healer," he said. "Do you want me to leave Vree with you?"

  "Yesss," Treyvan sighed, as the forestgyre herded the youngsters in with all the skill of an expert nursemaid. "If it would not leave you in danger. He issss much help. And after thisss," he concluded, with a hint of his old sense of humor, "I may even give him my cressst featherssss."

  One thing at a time, he told himself First the gryphons, then the little ones-and then I find out who and why-and what this attack on them really means.

  One thing is certain. the quiet we've been enjoying was just a momentary lull. We're in for more and worse trouble; I can feel it.

  He had felt trouble ahead, like the ache before a storm in once-broken bones. Like a storm, that trouble would strike-and with no warning where or when. He little thought that this time the fury would strike straight at his heart.

  He gave Nera and the rest of the hertasi a brief explanation of what had happened, while Nyara listened unobtrusively in the background.

  The Healer, Gesta, left halfway through without waiting for permissionso like the Healers of the Tayledras that Darkwind had to smile.

  No one gave them orders either, and they were not much inclined to wait for permission when they thought their services were needed. Vree came winging in over the swamp just after he answered the last of the lizard people's questions-mostly concerned with their own safety, and what, if anything, they could do to safeguard it.

  With Vree back, there was no reason to postpone his regular patrol-and every reason to complete it. There might be traces of those invadersthey might even still be within Tayledras territory, though Darkwind doubted it. In the past, those who had invaded to strike at the Hawkbrothers generally moved in, made whatever action they had come to take, and moved out again.

  And there was still no telling if this was a danger to the Tayledras, or simply the foolishness of a trophy-hunter.

  But when in doubt-assume the worst. The Hawkbrothers stayed alive by that rule, and it had always been the precept Darkwind operated on.

  He went over his ground with eyes sharpened by anxiety, looking for traces of the interlopers.

  He found only vague tracks, places where something had passed through, but the ground was too dry to hold marks, and it was impossible to tell what had made those traces. It could have been the marksman and his (presumed) companion; a thread caught on a thorn showed it was not simply an animal, despite the trace of lynx hair below it.

  At sunset he completed the last of his circuits, being replaced by Starsong, Wintermoon's current lover. He thought she looked at him strangely when she passed him-a pitying glance as she vanished into the underbrush. He puzzled over that odd expression as he headed back toward his ekele, thinking only of changing, getting food for himself and Vree, and going back to the gryphons.

  But as he hurried up the path, Vree suddenly swooped down in front of him, crying a warning. He froze, one hand on his dagger, as a manshaped shadow separated itself from the rest of the shadows beneath the trees.

  Then Vree swerved away, his cry changing from warning to welcome. as a huge, cloud-white owl rose on silent wings to meet him. Darkwind's hand fell from the hilt of his dagger, as he recognized Wintermoon's bird K'Tathi.

  "Brother-" he called softly. "What brings you out here? I thought you were on hunt-duty for a while." Wintermoon said nothing; only came forward. slowly, worriedly searching Darkwind's face with his eyes. "Then-you have not heard?" Darkwind shook his head, alarmed by his brother's expression, and his words. "Heard? No-nothing from the Vale, anyway. Why?

  What-" Wintermoon clasped Darkwind in his arms, in a rare display of emotion and affection. "Little brother-oh, little brother, I wish it were not so... I grieve for you, sheyna. Dawnfire... is dead." He searched his brother's face... and saw only regret. Darkwind was prepared for almost anything but that. He stood within the protection of his older brother's arms, and tried to make sense of what he had just heard.

  "Dawnfire? But-this was her rest day! She wasn't even going to leave her ekele, she told me so! Surely you must be mistaken."

  "No," Wintermoon said, his voice soft with seldom-heard compassion." No, there is no mistake. She was found in her ekele-" Then it hit him, with all the force of a blow to the gut. ' No!" he shouted, pulling away and staring at Wintermoon wildly.

  "No! It can't be! I don't believe you!" But Wintermoon's pitying expression-exactly like Starsong's-told him the truth that he did not want to hear.

  He was too well-trained and disciplined to break down-and too overcome with shock to move. His knees trembled, and threatened to give way beneath him. Wintermoon took his shoulders and gently steered him over to a fallen tree at the side of the trail. He urged Darkwind to sit as Vree dove in under the tree branches and landed, making soft whistling noises in the back of his throat.

  Darkwind felt blindly behind his back and got himself down on the log before his legs collapsed. "What-happened?" he asked hoarsely, his throat choked, his eyes burning. He blinked, and two silent tears scorched down his cheeks.

  "No one knows," Wintermoon replied quietly. "Thundersnow came to see if she wanted to go hunting for game birds, and found her this afternoon. She was-" he hesitated. "Little brother, did she full-bond with her bird often?"

  "Sometimes," Darkwind croaked, leaning on his left side. He stared out at nothing, more tears following the first. "She-could not full-bond without trance, but Kyrr was so bright, she didn't need full trance often. ~ How can she be dead? Who could have touched her in her own home?

  His fists knotted, and his stomach. More tears welled up and flowed unnoticed down his face.

  "Little brother, it appeared that she was in full trance; that at least is how Thundersnow found her. There were no signs of violence or sickness upon her." Wintermoon paused again. "I would say... she must have undergone full-bond with her bird, and that something befell the two of them." He paused. "She was not known for caution. It may be that she sent Kyrr into the Outlands, and met something she could not escape from." He rested his hand on Darkwind's shoulder. "I am very sorry, little brother. I-am not known for words. But if I can help you-" Darkwind seized the comfort he had thrust away earlier, and clasped Wintermoon to him, sobbing silently into his older brother's shoulder.

  Wintermoon simply held him, in an embrace of comfort and protection, while Vree whistled mourning beside them.

  Nyara twisted on the sleeping mat in her little cave, a ball of misery and confusion. When Darkwind came to the hertasi with his story of attack on the gryphons, she had been as confused and alarmed as any of them. But now she'd had some time to think about what he had said-and to think back to that last confrontation with her father.

  Mornelithe
Falconsbane had always hated gryphons, just as a general rule, although she was not aware that he had ever had contact with the species. Not directly, at least. But he had been very interested in Treyvan and Hydona, to the extent of pulling every detail she knew about them out of her. She had the horrible feeling, fast growing into certainty, that he and no other was behind this attack.

  And yet a direct attack was so unlike him. Mornelithe never did anything directly; he always layered everything he did in secrecy, weaving plots and counterplots into a net not even a spider could untangle. Why would he send someone to shoot at them? And why would he send someone armed with the crudest of amulets, a protection that was bound to fail? It made no sense at all...The hertasi Healer passed the mouth of her cave. Gesta paused a moment, peering shortsightedly into the doorway. "Nyara?" she said, softly. "Are you there? Are you awake?" Nyara blinked in surprise. "Yes," she responded. "Yes... I could not get to sleep. Is there something you need from me?" Gesta coughed politely. "A favor, perhaps. The winged ones are better. but they need a full night's sleep. Yet they are fearful to sleep. fearing another hunter, this time in the dark. You, I think, can see well in the dark, no?"

  "Yes, I can." Nyara responded, and in spite of her worries, a pleased little smile curled the corners of her mouth. they trust me-or Gesta does, anyway-and they're willing to give me something to do. "I think I see where you're tending. You want me to guard them, do you not? So that the winged ones may have some sleep."

  "Yes," Gesta breathed. in what sounded like relief. "You need not defend them; you need only stand watch and pledge to rouse them if danger comes. You can do that, I think, without harm to yourself. And they asked after you, saying you were a friend. We would. but-" The thin little figure silhouetted against the twilight sky shrugged, and leaned against its walking stick.

  "But you do not see or move well by darkness. I know," Nyara responded." I should be happy to attend them." She uncoiled from her mat and glided silently out to the hertasi, who blinked at her sudden appearance.

  "Do you go across the swamp?" Gesta asked, taking an involuntary step backward and looking up at her. Nyara realized then that this was the first time the hertasi Healer had seen her on her feet. Her slight build might have deceived the little lizard into thinking she was shorter than she actually was. In reality, she was perhaps a thumb-length shorter than Darkwind, but certainly no more than that.

  "No," she replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the thought of slogging through all that mud and water-and in the dark, no less. "No-if I go around about the edge, I shall find the ruins, no?"

  "It will be longer that way," Gesta warned.

  "But swifter if I need not feel my way through water in the dark," Nyara chuckled. "I go, good Healer. Thank you for giving me the task." She slipped down to the path that led to the edge of the marsh before the hertasi could reply. And once out of sight of the hertasi village, she slipped into the easy run she had been bred and altered for, a ground-devouring lope that would have surprised anyone except those who were familiar with the Plains grass-cats on which she had been modeled.

  While she ran, she had a chance to think; it was odd, but running always freed her thoughts, as if putting her body to work could make her mind work as well.

  She thought mostly upon the notion that her father might have been involved in this attack upon the gryphons. If he was, what was she to do about it?

  Treyvan and Hydona are my friends, she thought, unhappily. they are, perhaps, the only true friends I have ever had. And Darkwind-oh, I wish that Father had not ordered me to seduce him! He makes my blood hot, my skin tingle. Never have I desired anyone as I desire him-not even Father.

  Father I hate and need-Darkwind I only need-The very thought of Darkwind, of his strong, gentle hands, of his melancholy eyes, of his graceful body, made her both want to melt into his arms, and to pounce on him and wrestle him to the ground, preparatory to another kind of wrestling altogether.

  But Mornelithe has ordered me to take him-and therefore-I will not. She set her chin stubbornly, tucked her head down, and picked up her pace a bit.

  But what if Mornelithe were behind this; what then?

  I think it may depend upon if he sends more creatures against them tonight.

  Or if he has left a taint of himself that I can read. If I find nothing, I shall be silent. But if I find traces-then if I can-I must speak.

  The decision seemed easy until she realized that she had actually made it. The realization took her by surprise. why have I thought that? What are they to me, besides creatures who have been friendly-kindly No one had ever been friendly or kindly to her, not since Mornelithe had eviscerated her nurses, and given her sibs and playmates, failures by his reckoning, to his underlings to use as they would.

  As he would give me to his underlings, if he judged me a failure. As he would kill me, if he knew of my rebellion.

  Therefore he must not learn of it...She reached the border of the ruins before she expected; she slowed to a walk, and sharpened her eyes to catch the glow of body heat. She knew in general where the gryphons' nest was, but not precisely. She also freed her ears from her hair, and extended them to catch any stray sound.

  It didn't take her long to determine where the nest was; she heard the murmur of voices echoing among the stones of the ruins, and traced them back to their source. She froze just behind the shelter of a broken-down wall, hearing not only the gryphons, but Darkwind as well.

  "There was a red-shouldered hawk circling around you when I left," he was saying. His voice sounded odd, thick with emotion, and hoarse.

  "Dawnfire's Kyrr was a red-shouldered-you know, I made her promise me that she wouldn't come around here today-"

  "Which may have been a missstake," Treyvan interrupted wearily.

  Nyara peeked around the end of the wall." Sssshe wasss curiousss. Very curiousss. It isss entirely posssible ssshe did full-bond with her birrrd.

  And whoeverrr it wasss that attacked usss, may have attacked and killed herrr asss well. If the birrrd diesss, the bondmate diesss, no?"

  "Yes," Darkwind replied, but he sounded uncertain. "If they are in full-bond at the time. But I didn't see any dead-" he faltered,

  "_birds-"

  "You might not," Hydona said, emerging slowly from the entrance of the nest, the little ones trailing after her. "It might not have ssstruck the grround. Perrrhapsss it wassss caught in a tree... " She went on to say more, but Nyara didn't hear her. All of her attention had been caught by the female gryphon and the nestlings.

  They bore the unmistakable stamp of her father's taint.

  Hydona wore the contamination only lightly, a glaring red tracery like burst veins... and it was fading, as if Mornelithe had attempted something against her, and had failed: But the gryphlets- She moaned silently, to herself, as she had learned only too well to do.

  Now she knew that it had been her father who had masterminded the attack on the gryphons. And how, and why.

  The physical attack had never been intended to succeed. It had been intended to bring the gryphons down out of action, and only incidentally into his reach. He had attempted to subvert Hydona, to insert his own Will and mind into hers. He surely found her too tough for him to take, at least, given the short amount of time he had to work in. She knew he had never really meant to do more than make a cursory attempt to take them, on the off chance that he would succeed by sheer accident.

  Because what he had really wanted was the opportunity to get at the little ones and work with them, undisturbed. She knew from bitter experience that it would not take him long at all, with a young thing, to subvert it to his will. The gryphlets would not be as useful, as quickly, as the adults-but they were more malleable, and far less able to defend themselves against him.

  And they had one thing the adults did not; a direct tie into the power-node beneath their birthplace.

  Mornelithe wanted that; he could pull power away from nodes, by diverting some of the power-flows into th
em, but he had no direct access to any nodes. The only nodes anywhere near this area were the one beneath k'treva, and the one beneath the gryphons' nest. Both were within k'treva territory, and out of Mornelithe's reach.

  The power-node here was very deep, but very strong, and its ley-lines ran into k'treva Vale. Through the young, tainted gryphons, Mornelithe would have direct access to the node, the line, and very possibly, could drain the node beneath k'treva.

  Or move it to his own stronghold.

  It was entirely possible he would also have access to lines and nodes in the Plains; she had no idea if the node here was connected there, or not.

  And these ruins themselves could conceal artifacts from the ancient Mage Wars. Mornelithe had been trying to collect those for as long as she had been aware of his activities; he had only been marginally successful in his quests, gathering in creatures and devices either flawed, broken, or only marginally useful. His ambition was to acquire something of great power; one of the legendary permanent Master Gates, for instance. One of those would give him access to the old Citadels of the Lord Adepts; and those, however ruined, wherever they were hidden, would undoubtedly contain things he would find useful.