Winds of Change (43 page)

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?”