Winds of Change (31 page)

He passed the line to Treyvan, protected the end with an expanding shield. Just in time. The Stone itself created tiny tentacles of seeking power, probing after the line it had lost. Thin, waving strands of sullen red energy groped toward him, lengthening as they searched. The hair on the back of his neck rose as they came to him, then ignored him, and sought after the line. For one frightening moment, he thought they were coming after him, that the Stone
knew
he had taken the line and wanted retribution. They reminded him of the filaments of energy cast out in the creation of a Gate, the filaments that sought for and found the terminus at the other end and drew the two ‘ ‘together.” They found the line - and slid along the surface of the shield protecting the severed end. Before they could seek further, perhaps touch past the sides of the shield, Treyvan hauled the line out of reach.

He shivered, watching the red fingers weaving and groping after the line. There was something very
wrong
about this. In all of his training, in all of the tales he had ever heard, there had been nothing like this behavior noted in a Heartstone.

Fortunately, these tentacles were neither as powerful nor as persistent as the Gate-energies; they receded into the seething chaos of the Stone moments after they pulled the line out of reach. But he certainly remained aware of them - and aware that the Stone might have more surprises.

He did not like the feeling that it knew exactly what he had done, and was angry with him.

With one “eye” on the Stone, he and Treyvan put their strength into relocating the line and, to some extent, the pathway it would take in the future. Moving the line was a great deal like pulling one end of a very heavy, very long rope - a rope that was, perhaps, as thick as his waist. The line resisted being moved from its accustomed course, just by pure inertia. By the time he got the severed end within easy distance of the new node, he felt as if he had run a long uphill race.

Treyvan’s mind was focused on his and Hydona’s home. He manipulated the node beneath the lair; that was appropriate, since he was the most familiar with it. He created a kind of “sticky,” or “rough-surfaced” place on it, at least that was the analogy Darkwind used for himself. Whatever he did, it made the raw end of the line seek it as soon as Darkwind removed the shield; they joined, jumping together as a thread will jump to a silk-rubbed amber bead, or a bit of iron to a magnet. Then he ran magical pressure along the line, to straighten and broaden it slightly, so it would seat in place easier.

Darkwind studied the join for a moment, and mentally shook his head.
:I don‘t want to take any chances, this time,:
he said to Treyvan, feeling Elspeth in the back of his mind, watching with interest.
:I didn‘t like what the Stone did back there, and I don’t want it to recapture these lines. Let’s armor and shield the joining.:

:A good plan,:
Treyvan agreed.

It was probably not necessary. They were probably doing far more work than they needed to. But Darkwind could not get those seeking tentacles of power out of his mind -

 
-
and the more I weaken the Stone, the less chance it has of turning the tables on us when we finally drain it. Or whatever we do when we finally take it down.

He was aware that he was thinking of the Stone as if it a living, sentient creature. A discomforting fact of magic, also, was that often
thinking
about something made it happen, especially with skilled Adepts. Magery was not a matter of spell components and rituals at Adept level, it involved a high measure of subconscious skill and influencing of the physical world.

He had no doubt that there were others among the Hawkbrothers who thought of the Stone as having a mind - a half-mad, malicious one, to be sure. Personifying a problem was also not unheard of among people of all ages and races, much less mages. It
might,
by now, have a kind of mind. That might even be the root cause of its behavior back there. If it did, the last thing he wanted to do was underestimate it.

So he and Treyvan spent some time in ensuring that the Stone would
not
be able to get that particular ley-line back. And the next. And the next.

Four lines later, and he was quite ready to call an end to the exercise. So, he surmised, was Treyvan. When he disengaged his attention from Othersight and glanced over at the gryphon, poor Treyvan’s crest drooped, and his neck-ruff had a decidedly wilted look about it.

:That’s enough,:
he said.
:We know this will hold. And even weakened, my father could do this alone. In fact, if I can do this, any pair of the Adepts should be able to. I think I’ll advise that they work in pairs, though. I don’t think anyone should ever turn an unguarded back on that Stone from now on.:

Treyvan acknowledged his decision with a weary nod, and broke the link. As Darkwind brought all of his attention and concentration back to his physical body, the gryphon slumped over his foreclaws and sighed.

“That Sstone isss
mossst
ssstubborn, Darrkwind,” the gryphon complained, his crest-feathers slowly rising. “I have neverrr ssseen anything like it.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Darkwind urged. “I’m too tired to really trust my shields.”

“I agrreee,” Hydona rumbled, and turned to lead the way across the pass-through. On the other side of the barrier, Treyvan resumed his interrupted observation.

“I have neverrr ssseen anything like the way the Ssstone behaved,” he repeated, his voice troubled, and his crest rising and falling a little with his agitation.

“You mean the way it tried to reach after the line once we severed it?” Darkwind asked. “By the way,” he added in an aside to Elspeth, “Treyvan is right in that what you Saw wasn’t normal behavior for a Heartstone. It’s not supposed to reach out after things like that on its own.”

The gryphon shuddered. “It acted asss if it werre alive and thinking. It issss jussst a
node.
Nodesss arrre not sssup-posssed to be alive!”

“Yes and no,” Darkwind replied, “Although this is sheer speculation on my part, I must remind you. But I have seen another kind of magic-imbued object act like that; when you build a Gate, the energy integrated into the portal does the same thing.”

“Yesss, but
not
on itsss own,” Treyvan corrected. “You make it do sssso!”

“Initially, perhaps,” Darkwind argued, “but eventually, a mage can work parts of the spell without consciously thinking on it. After a while the process proceeds without direction - “

A flash of white in the branches up above should have warned him, but he was too tired to think of more than one thing at a time, and his mind was already occupied with the problem of the Heartstone. So it wasn’t until Vree had made three-fourths of his dive at Treyvan’s crest that he realized what was about to happen. And by then it was too late.

“NO!”

This time, Treyvan was tired, irritable -

Vree reached out claws to snatch and encountered something he had not expected.

Treyvan had suffered the bondbird’s behavior enough.

Vree found himself flying straight for Treyvan’s enormous beak; easily large enough to engulf the bird.

Darkwind reached out his hand in a useless gesture. He didn’t even have time to
think.
It was all happening too fast. Vree frantically tried to pull up out of the dive.

Too late.

Crack.

The sound of Treyvan’s beak snapping shut echoed across the Vale like nothing that had ever been heard there before. Like the sound of an enormous branch snapping in two, perhaps, or the jaws of a huge steel trap closing.

Or the hands of a giant slapping together. Clouds of songbirds took wing in alarm.

Vree screamed in pain and dove for the safety of Darkwind’s wrist. Treyvan spat out the single tail-feather he’d bitten off with an air of aggrieved triumph.

Darkwind heaved a sigh of relief. Treyvan was a carnivore, as much a raptor as Vree was; something
he
never forgot. Vree was lucky; incredibly lucky -

Because Treyvan hadn’t missed. He’d snapped off exactly what he intended to. The gryphons’ reflexes were as swift and sure as the fastest goshawk, and if Treyvan had chosen, it would have been Vree’s neck that was broken, not a tail-feather.

:I warned you,:
Darkwind said, as Elspeth hovered between sympathy for the badly-frightened bird and the laughter she was obviously trying to repress.
:I warned you, and you wouldn‘t listen!:

Treyvan fixed the trembling, terrified bondbird with a single glaring eye. “You arrre jussst forrrtunate that I wasss j not hungerrred,” he hissed, and Darkwind “heard” him echoing his words in simple thought-images the bondbird would have no difficulty understanding.
 
“You may not farrrre so well a sssecond time.”

Vree cowered against Darkwind ‘s chest, making tiny sounds of acute distress and pain.

:Now you ‘re going to be minus that feather until you molt, unless I can imp it back in.:

: Hurts,:
Vree wailed. :
Scared!:

:l know it hurts. You should be glad he didn‘t pull it out, or bite your tail off.:
Darkwind caressed the gyre until he stopped trembling, as Elspeth bent to pick up the feather and offered it to him.

He took the gesture at face value, and not for the one implied by Hawkbrother custom.
:Tell Treyvan you’re sorry,:
he told Vree sternly, holding the bondbird out to the gryphon’s face, within easy reach of that enormous beak.

Maybe this will impress him enough that he won‘t try the game again.
He sighed.
I
certainly hope so.

The gyre looked up into the huge amber eyes as Darkwind held him up to the gryphon’s face.
:S-s-s-sorry,:
the bird stuttered - no mean feat, mentally.
:S-s-s-sorry!:

He certainly sounded sincere.

:Promise you won‘t do it again,:
Darkwind ordered.

Vree shook, and slicked down all his feathers with unhappiness.
:Not snatch again,:
he agreed.
:Not ever. Never, never, never, never.:

Darkwind transferred the bird from his wrist to the padded shoulder of his jerkin, where Vree huddled against his hair, actually pushing himself into the hair so that it partially covered him, hiding. Darkwind examined the feather carefully, hoping that it hadn’t been too badly damaged. Vree depended on his tail for steering; the loss of one feather might not seem like a great deal, but it would make a difference in his maneuverability.

“You did a good job,” he remarked to Treyvan, whose crest was rising slowly again. “It’s a nice clean cut, only cracked the shaft a little. I won’t need to use one of last year’s set. I should be able to imp this one back in with no problems.”

The gryphon chuckled. “It isss in part Vree’sss doing. If he had not turrned, I ssshould not have been able to catch the tail featherssss. If he did not turrrn, I wasss going to catch him and hold him, then let him go.”

“He’d have been frightened to death. Well, I think you’ve finally made an impression on him,” Darkwind replied -
not
chuckling, though he wanted to, for fear of hurting the bird’s feelings. “He finally sees you as a bigger, hungrier, meaner version of a bondbird, and not something like a glorified firebird. To tell you the truth, I think he’s just fascinated by beautiful feathers, like your crest and the firebirds’ tails. He snatches
their
feathers all the time.”

Treyvan’s crest rose completely, with mock indignation. “I ssshould hope we arrre not
glorrrified firrrebirds
,” he snorted. “I am a vain birrrd, and I appreciate that he findsss my cressst ssso attrrractive, but we arrre not anything like firrrrebirrdssss.”

“What are you, though?” Elspeth asked, suddenly. “I mean, you don’t really look like anything I know of - other than vaguely like hawk-eagles and falcons.”

“Oh, well, we arrre not anything you know,” Hydona replied, vaguely. “Not hawk, not falcon. It isss not asss if sssomeone took bitsss and piecesss of birrrd and cat and patched usss togetherrr, afterrr all!”

“Yes, but there
are
supposed to be gryphons north and west of Valdemar,” Elspeth persisted. “But there aren’t any in any of the inhabited lands I know - so where do you two come from?”

“Wessst.” Hydona shrugged. “You would not know the place. Even the Hawkbrotherrsss had not hearrrd of it.”

Elspeth wasn’t giving up that easily. “Well, is that where your kind comes from? Is that why there aren’t any gryphons in Valdemar?”

Treyvan gave her a droll look out of the corner of his eye. “If you arrrre asssking if we arrre a kind of Change-child orrrr Pelagirrr monssterrrr,” he replied, “I can tell you that we arrre not, and thanksss be to Sssskandrrranon forrr that. We werrrre crreated by one of the Grreat Magessss, the Mage of Ssssilence, whom we knew asss Urrrtho. That wasss a long time ago, beforrre the Mage Warrrs. He crrrreated the
herrrtasssi
asss well, and othersss. That wasss hisss grrreat powerrr and joy, to crrreate new crrreaturessss. Ssso they sssay.”

Before Elspeth could leap in with another question, Hydona yawned hugely and looked up at the sky. “It isss late,” she said abruptly, “and I am hungerrred, even if Trrreyvan isss not.”