Beyond the Prophecy (27 page)

One rider looked like regaining control of his horse. Vatar
took a few more steps forward and roared again. Just to make sure they kept
going—away—he lowered his head and started to run after them. That was a mistake.
He had spent almost no time practicing his avatar since the mystery of its
abnormal size had been explained. Roaring was easy. And he could walk fairly
reliably. Running was another matter altogether. He got his feet tangled and
ended up rolling down the slope into the dry wash, tail over mane. At least
that seemed to frighten the horses nearly as much as his roar. By the time
Vatar had shifted back and straightened himself out so he could stand up, all
he could see of them was a dust cloud in the distance.

He took a moment to brush the dust from his trousers and
tunic before scrambling back up the slope, just as Zoridan and Balan rode up.
Zoridan held out the reins of Vatar’s horse. At least he would be spared
chasing it down. But from the look in Balan’s eyes as he handed over the spear
that was all he was going to be spared.

“That was very impressive,” Balan said, his voice bubbling
with mirth. “Until you tried to run, anyway.”

Vatar shrugged and grabbed the spear. Then he shook his head
and grinned back. It was hardly Balan’s fault that he’d neglected learning to
actually use his avatar. Something he might need to work on some this coming
winter. At home, with Thekila to help him. Not here, in front of these two
grinning . . . comrades. “Guess it’s obvious I haven’t spent much time in my
avatar.”

“You must have,” Zoridan said. “That was remarkable. It’s
really hard to do that kind of second masking shape change to make your avatar
look
bigger
and
make it
move
realistically with
you.”

Vatar blew out a breath. “I wasn’t masking.”

“You had to be, that lion was surely more than twice your
size,” Zoridan objected. “The rules of shape changes—”

“Have certain rare exceptions,” Vatar interrupted. He had no
intention of explaining Dardani Spirit magic to these two. At least . . . not
until he talked to Orleus and verified that Zoria hadn’t passed on their decoy
information about another ford that didn’t really exist. “It’s too complicated
to discuss right now.”

“But—” Balan started.

Vatar held his hand up. “Do you smell smoke?”

Balan sniffed the air. “Yes, I do.”

Vatar scanned the area and cursed. “They’ve set fire to the
fields! Balan, go get Orleus.” Vatar spurred his horse forward, yanking off his
tunic as he rode. Raised on the plains, he knew too well how fast a grass fire
could spread. This grain was needed, both here and in Caere. He leapt from his
horse, upended his water skin over his tunic and used it to beat out the flames
in a small clump of burning wheat.

“What can I do?” Zoridan asked.

Vatar looked up. He’d sent Balan after Orleus and the rest
of the troop because he was the better rider, but that might have been
fortuitous. “Now might be the time to use your Transformation, Zoridan. Do you
think you could use your wings to drive the fire back on itself?”

Zoridan looked at the leading edge of the fire, which was
still fairly narrow. He nodded. “I can try.”

Zoridan shifted into his avatar and began beating his wings.
The advance of the flames in that direction slowed visibly. A white blur
dropped out of the sky and suddenly Quetza was beside him, adding her wing
power to his.

Vatar went back to trying to beat out the flames along the
side, to keep the fire from spreading in that direction. He barely noticed the
sound of hoof beats over the roar of the flames—or much of anything else until
the flames were out except for a few embers in the center of the burned area,
where they’d soon die with no fuel to feed them.

He looked up then and realized that there were a lot more
men than just Orleus’s troop. Some, like him, had been using wet blankets to
beat out the flames. Others had been clearing a wide swath around the fire to
keep it from spreading. A few seemed to have been carrying buckets of water
from some source. Zoridan and Quetza both stood near what had been the leading
edge of the fire, rolling their tired shoulders. Vatar found Orleus and asked,
“Where did they all come from?”

Orleus wiped a smear of ash from his face. “As soon as Balan
gave me your message, I sent a rider to the nearest outpost.”

Vatar nodded and stretched his own tired shoulders as he
surveyed the damage. Not as bad as it could have been. Still . . . “The Exiles
set the fires as they ran.”

Orleus nodded, his face grim. “It almost makes me wish we’d
hunted them down instead of letting them go. We can only hope that they believe
we were a regular patrol. That may keep them from getting close enough to try
that again.” He shook his head. “Too late to start back for Tysoe tonight.
We’ll put up in the barracks at the outpost. I’d like their Healer to have a
look at my wounded scout, anyway.”

Someone had tied the horses securely at a distance upwind
from the fire. As they walked in that direction, Vatar asked, “Speaking of scouts,
any news from the east?”

Orleus’s eyes lost focus for a moment. “Nothing. I’ve
recalled my scouts.” He looked across at Vatar. “You might owe Zoria an
apology.”

Vatar shrugged acknowledgment. “Better safe than sorry.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

Even though class had been dismissed for the day, Theklan
sat under the apple tree, turning the small, metal-studded harness over in his
hands. He’d had to make it by guess to fit his eagle shape, but he’d left
plenty of room for adjustment. The problem was that he’d now come as far as he
could without help. The harness was much too small for him to put on before he
shifted into his avatar—and he’d have no hands to do it with after the change.
He’d need someone else’s help just to get the harness on. Not to mention there
was no point in the harness without someone to use distant manipulation on it
to keep him from falling out of the sky.

But who? He barely had a chance to see any of his old
friends anymore. And most of his fellow students in Sharlin’s “special” class
still treated him as an interloper. Whoever he chose, he’d be trusting them
with his life. And not turn and turnabout, the way Thekila and Quetza had done
it.

“What’s that?”

The voice cut through his reflections. He looked up to see
Sharila staring down at the leather straps in his hand. Too late to try to hide
it. He held it out straight instead. “A harness. It’s supposed to help me learn
to fly. In my eagle form, of course.”

She scrunched up her slightly aquiline nose. “How’s
that
supposed to work?”

“It’s what my sister said she and Quetza did when they were
learning. One would wear a similar harness and try to fly while the other stood
ready to
catch
them with distant manipulation—using the metal studs on
the harness to get a grip—so they didn’t fall. Or, at least, didn’t fall very
far. I just don’t . . .” He trailed off, unwilling to admit that he didn’t have
anyone here he trusted enough to help him with this.

“You need someone to help with the distant manipulation part,
but don’t know who to ask,” Sharila supplied. “But that’s easy. I’m your study
partner, aren’t I? And I’ve gotten a lot better at distant manipulation—with
your help. Now I’ll help you.”

Theklan swallowed. He briefly considered refusing her offer,
but . . . who else was there, really? She had gotten better at distant
manipulation—not that she was anywhere near the best in their class. Still, he
could probably trust her not to let him fall. At least, he was sure she’d try
not to. Trusting her not to laugh at him making a fool of himself—that was
entirely a different matter. Well . . . maybe. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to help me? We’re . . . we’re not even
really friends. I don’t even think you like me very much.”

She sat down next to him. “That’s not true. I just . . .
well, I guess I wasn’t very gracious when you first arrived. But I didn’t know
you then. You’ve helped me with distant manipulation. Only fair I help you in
return. That’s what study partners are for, after all. And your Spirit magic really
is fascinating.”

Oh, so that was it. She and her brother both seemed to be
almost obsessed with the Dardani magic. Still . . . what other choice did he
have? Theklan let out his breath. “Thank you.”

“When and where do you want to do this?” Sharila asked.

Theklan looked around the Academy, where small groups of
students and teachers wandered the pathways. “Away from here. Thekila said
there was a place just a little way up the mountains where she and Quetza used
to go to practice. Maybe on seventh-day?”

Sharila’s brows furrowed. “Up in the mountains? Is that
really necessary?”

“Thekila said it’d be easier to start by taking off from a
high place.”

Sharila shrugged. “Okay. I can see that, I guess. But why
not on top of one of the roofs or a tree?”

Aside from not wanting to make a fool of myself in front
of the whole school?
“It’s more complicated than that. Have you ever
watched an eagle or a hawk soar?”

“Sure.”

“They’re using air currents when they do that. And places
where warm air rises are the best place to start, according to Thekila. She and
Quetza wrote up what they did. They were the first Valson to actually figure
out how to fly, after all. I’ve been reading their treatise in my spare time.”

“All right. I guess that makes sense. Seventh-day it is. And
I’ll take a look at that treatise, too, before then.”

~

Theklan looked over the edge of the cliff. It was a lot
farther down than he’d imagined when he’d just been reading about it. Apart
from a couple of steep places in the path, the surrounding forest had masked
just how high they’d climbed. He watched a hawk wheeling in the warm air
current—
below
where he currently stood. This had sounded like a much
better idea down on the flat.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sharila asked.

He swallowed. No backing out now. Not if he ever wanted to
learn to fly. “Are you?”

She shrugged a little. “I’ve been practicing.” She looked
over the cliff, too. There was a—well, not level—less steep, mostly treeless
area a little below them. “If I can’t . . .” She paused to swallow, too. “If I
can’t
lift
you back up here, I think I could at least slow a fall and
set you down there.”

Theklan studied the spot. “That’d probably work.” He stepped
back and handed the harness to Sharila. “You’ll need to put this on for me. I
won’t be able to once I shift.”

“I guess you won’t.” She looked at the leather straps and
buckles. “How do I—?”

Theklan took it back briefly, indicating the different
parts. “This strap should buckle over my shoulders. This one below my wings.
Tight enough not to fall off, but not so tight that they restrict movement.” He
indicated the two leather belts that joined the two buckled straps. “These hold
it together. You might have to adjust them a little for length.”

Sharila took the harness back. “I see, now.”

Theklan nodded and drew the shape of the eagle in his mind.
Shifting into the eagle shape got easier every time he tried it, but the abrupt
change in height could still be a little disorienting. He closed his eyes.
Dizzy was the last thing he wanted to be before stepping off that precipice. He
figured he’d get dizzy fast enough after jumping.

As soon as he felt the change was complete, Theklan opened
his eyes and spread his wings to make it easier for Sharila to put the harness
on. She flinched slightly as she fastened the upper buckle. He spoke to her in
the only way he could in this form, mind to mind.
“It’s still me, you know.
I’m not going to bite you.”

Sharila huffed a self-conscious laugh. “I know. It’s just .
. . you look so fierce in that form. It’s the eyes, I think.” She fastened the
lower buckle as well and then checked the straps joining the two belts.

Her fingers lingered for a moment, stroking his breast
feathers lightly. Theklan controlled a shiver at the touch.

“Your feathers are so soft. I . . . wouldn’t have expected
that.” She checked the fastenings one more time. “All right. I think you’re
set.”

Theklan bobbed his head in a
birdish
nod and walked awkwardly toward the edge, trying not to waddle. This shape
certainly wasn’t meant for long-distance walking. If it was going to be any
use, he needed to learn to fly.

Hesitating at the very rim, Theklan spread his wings again
and closed his eyes briefly. Was he ready for this? What if he got into trouble
and Sharila really couldn’t catch him? He drew in a breath. He was more
prepared for this than Thekila had been, after all. He’d at least been able to
read about what Thekila and Quetza had learned the hard way. This was no time
to get cold feet. He let his breath out and hopped out into the air—and
dropped. He felt a tug on his harness immediately. Almost at the same time, he
felt the air under his wings seeming to push him upward. He needed motion,
though, to stay aloft for long.
“It’s all right. Let go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But . . . ah, stay ready.”

The grip on the harness released slowly, but Theklan didn’t
drop any farther. He angled his wings, slowly, to find the right position to
move him forward—and upward—in the column of warm air. Ah, there, that was it.
But not too far forward. He must stay within the current of rising air. The
hawks and eagles he’d been watching at every chance flew in spirals. He tipped
his left wing—the one nearest the cliff—lower to turn in that direction.

Yes! That worked. In his exultation, he was almost too late
realizing that his spiral was too wide. He was going to strike the cliff face.
Had that shrill shriek come from him? How embarrassing. He dipped the wing
lower, trying to tighten his turn just as the harness jerked again, pulling him
away from the cliff.

As the pressure on the harness eased, Theklan dipped his
wing too far and tumbled because the surface area of his wings was no longer
sufficient to sustain his weight. A gentler pressure on the harness released as
he righted himself. No jerk this time. Maybe they were both just trying to get
the feel of this. Sky above and earth below! It was a lot more complicated than
he’d expected. Eagles made it look so easy.

Well, he had to find a way to circle at least as high as the
ledge or a little higher. Theklan didn’t want to have to let Sharila haul him
back up by the harness. Or lower him to that slope, either. He found the
correct angle for a tight enough—but not too tight—spiral and began to circle
slowly upward.

Finally, he could spare enough attention from just not
crashing to notice the extraordinary detail he could see from up here. And how
far he could see. This was wonderful. He saw the look of awe on Sharila’s face
as he circled past the ledge and squawked in joy. It still sounded a lot like
his shriek of panic earlier. Apparently, the eagle form didn’t have a lot of
vocal range.

When he’d circled just a little higher, he decided to try
flapping his wings. Just a little, to get the feel of it. He was surprised at
how far a beat of those powerful wings could carry him. Then dismayed to find
that his two or three wingbeats had carried him right out of the rising air
current. He dipped a wing, twisted his tail, and a couple more beats carried
him back into its reassuring caress before Sharila had to pull on his harness
again.

Maybe that was enough for today. He cocked his head to look
down at the ledge. Yes. He had one more skill to try out. Landing was going to be
enough of a challenge. Best to do it before he got too tired.

Circling downward proved to be more difficult than circling
up, so Theklan flapped twice to take himself briefly out of the current. He
turned, aiming for the ledge and folded his wings. Too fast! He’d never thought
how fast that breathtaking dive an eagle made after its prey must be. Spreading
wings and tail slowed him some, but not quite enough. He still landed hard
enough that only Sharila’s extended hand kept him from striking his beak against
the rocks.

Shaken, he stood there blinking owlishly for a moment. He
only barely stopped himself from shifting back to his true form in time. Not
with the harness still on. That would be . . . painful at best. He spread his
wings and tried not to sway as Sharila, kneeling in front of him, worked at the
buckles. When she pulled the harness free, Theklan shifted back and
simultaneously dropped to his knees.

Sharila leaned forward and pressed her lips quickly to his.
“That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. What was it like?”

With difficulty, Theklan resisted the urge to put a hand to
his lips. “Simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.” Even he wasn’t quite
sure whether he was referring to his flight or that brief kiss—or both. He
turned to look out over the cliff. “I’ll need a lot of practice. Will you help
me again next seventh-day?”

Sharila smiled. “We might be able to get away from classes
sooner than that. If you’re ready to try again that is.”

Theklan grinned. “It might take me a day or two to recover.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

~

Theklan woke in the pre-dawn quiet of the dormitory. Only
the soft snoring of his roommates broke the silence. He’d dreamed of flying—at
first. Really flying. It had been the most incredible feeling of freedom,
greater even than galloping across the plains on his horse. Then, somehow, the
dream had shifted to Kiara and that last, wild, exhilarating, kiss. He felt
obscurely that he’d betrayed—or nearly betrayed—that promise.

Wait. Sharila had kissed him, not the other way around. He
hadn’t even wanted to kiss her. Had he? Theklan hadn’t even had time to
respond, the kiss had been so brief. Would he have responded if it had been
longer? Never mind. It wasn’t going to happen again.

Sharila had helped him and was willing to go on helping him
learn to fly. She might even be willing to come back to the plains and help in
the fight against the Exiles someday. Maybe, just maybe, they were becoming
friends. That would be good, because Theklan still felt very alone here. They’d
arrived at a species of mutual respect, at least, if not really liking each
other yet. But Sharila wasn’t Kiara and she’d never be half as important to him
as Kiara was.

Really, there was nothing to that kiss but Sharila’s
excitement about seeing him fly. That was all. Probably Sharila had regretted
it immediately and that’s why the kiss had been so quick. And it wasn’t going
to happen again. So there wasn’t any point in thinking about it, was there?