Magic's Pawn (46 page)

Savil sighed, forgetting to clutch the arms of the chair. “Gods, what are we to do with him?”

Starwind’s expression sobered again, and he began to answer - but was interrupted. Both
Tayledras
snapped to attention; their heads swung to face the window as if a single string had pulled them in that direction.

Two birds shot up from below and hovered there, just outside that window; the white gyrefalcon, and a second, of normal plumage. Starwind leaped out of his chair and flung the window open; the birds swirled in on the blast of wind that entered, and he slammed the window shut again.

Moondance had jumped to his feet, holding both arms out, ready for the birds, the moment Starwind went for the window. The falcons homed for him unerringly and were settling on the leather guards on his forearms before Starwind had finished latching the window closed.

The elder
Tayledras
held out his arm, and the burl falcon lofted to his forearm with a flutter of pinions, settling immediately.

Both
Tayledras
stared into their birds’ eyes in silent communion. Savil kept as still as she could; while the bond between Hawkbrother and his birds was a strong one, and the magic-bred birds
were
considerably more than their wild brethren, their minds were something less than that of a very young child, perhaps a trifle superior to a cat, and it didn’t take much to distract them.

The white falcon mantled; the buff cried. The
Tayledras’
eyes refocused, and Savil read “trouble” in the grim lines of their mouths.

“What?” she asked.

“First - tampering, as you had reported it to us, but this time on
our
grounu and not on k’Vala,” Starwind said, soothing his bird by stroking its breast-feathers. “A clutch of colddrakes, from the look of it. Something has
made
them move, so when we deal with the drakes, we shall have to look farther afield; there are folk settled in that direction under k’Treva protection. This is the first time we have caught the culprit in the act, and I do not intend to take this lightly.’’

“I hope you’re counting me in that ‘we’; a clutch of drakes needs every mage you can muster,” she said, getting carefully to her feet and bracing herself against the sway of the
ekele
.

“If you would - you would be welcome.” Starwind looked relieved. “But Vanyel - “

“If he’s hiding, he’ll only come out when he’s ready.

He’s not going to come to any harm while he’s in the vale. How far are these monsters, anyway?”

“Haifa day’s footpace; perhaps less,” Moondance replied, “The which I do not like. It speaks for them being harried, or even Gated. In which case, why and who?”

“Good questions, both of them,” Savil agreed. “Who can we count on?’’

“Nothing under an Adept, not with drakes; not even Journeymen should handle drake-swarms, at least not to my mind.
Shethka. “

“Don’t tell me, we’re the only three in any shape to take them on, right?”

“Sunsong is still recovering from moving the firebirds to sanctuary, Brightwind is too old to travel, Stormwing is pregnant.”

“Lord and Lady -
lock
her up!” Savil exclaimed.

“No fear, she’s steadied since she reached Adept. No more headlong races into danger just for the thrill. So - Rainstar is out already, with another call from the
kyree
, as is Fireflight. And that is the total of k’Treva Adepts.” Starwind grimaced. “If this were summer…”

“If this were summer, it wouldn’t be colddrakes,
ashke, “
Moondance reminded him. “We work with what we have, and grateful that Wingsister Savil is with us.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Savil said, steadying herself for the long climb down, as the
Tayledras
transferred their birds from forearm to shoulder for the descent. “So far as
I’m
concerned, I’ll take a colddrake over your bedamned ladder any time!’’

The snow cleared just before dawn, and the sun rose, pale and glorious, shining through the bare branches of the trees. The forest was filled with light; with the light came a resurgence of Vanyel’s good sense.

He sat down on a stump, tired and winded, and suddenly seemed to wake out of the hold of his nightmare.
What am I
doing
out here
? he thought, panting.
I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there, I have no idea where I am! I just
-
hared off into nowhere, like a complete idiot
!

He put his pack down at his feet and scooped up some of the new snow in his mitten and ate it; it numbed his tongue, but it didn’t do much for his thirst.
I
can’t believe I did anything this stupid
.

He wrapped his cloak tighter, and tucked his knees up under his chin, staring at the delicate tracery of white branches against the painfully blue sky. He began to think things through, slowly; one small, painful step at a time.

He flushed with shame.
I
can’t believe I did this. Dammit, I know how much Savil loves me, I’ve
felt
it
-
and Yfandes, and
-
damn, I am a rotten fool. Moondance was just trying to say that it’s
-
easier to have other people around who hurt when
you
hurt, not that he thought he hurt worse than me. I hurt
him
by pushing him away
.

His blush deepened.
Worst of it is, he’ll likely forgive me without my asking. They didn’t abandon me yesterday; they were busy
-
probably over my welfare. They gave me exactly what I wanted; to be left alone. I should have been knocked up against a wall
.

He brooded, watching the birch branches swaying in the breeze. He was alone, completely alone, as he had not been since he left Forst Reach. The only thing breaking the silence was the whisper of the breeze and the occasional call of a winter bird. It was the kind of solitude he had sought - and not found - in the ice-dream. And now that he had it, he didn’t want it.

Not that this place wasn’t peaceful - but a sanctuary, as he had discovered with his little hideaway at the keep, could all too easily become a prison.

When you lock things out
, he thought slowly,
you lock yourself in. I think maybe that was what Moondance was trying to tell me
.

He stared at the white branches, not seeing them, and not really thinking; just letting things turn over in the back of his mind. There was a half-formed thought back there, an important one. But it wasn’t quite ready to come out yet.

Finally he sighed, and turned his thoughts back to his own stupidity.
Even if that dream
is
ForeSight, there’s probably ways around it. Nobody’s going to force me into being a Herald. I could probably stay here if I asked to. There was no reason to go running off into the wilderness with nothing but what I could carry and no weapons. Gods, what a
fool
I
am
!

He swiveled around to look down his backtrail. Even as he watched, the brisk breeze was filling in the last of his tracks with the light, powdery snow.

He groaned aloud.
Oh, fine. Just fine. I probably won’t be able to find my way back now! I don’t need teachers, I need nursemaids
!

Then he blinked, caught in sudden astonishment at the tone of his own thoughts. He sat up a little straighter and took stock of himself, and found that he was - feeling
alive
again. Feeling ready to
be
alive.

It’s like I’ve been sick, fevered, and the fever just broke. Like I’ve been broken inside, somehow, and I’m finally starting to feel healed. I haven’t felt this
-
good
-
since Tylendel
-
died
-

He closed his eyes, expecting pain at that thought. There
was
pain, but not the debilitating agony of loss it had been.

‘
Lendel
, he thought with a tinge of wonder,
I
still miss you. It still hurts, you not being here. But I guess Moon-dance was right. I have to get on with my life, even though you aren’t here to share it
.

He opened his eyes on the snow-sparkling forest, and actually managed a weak smile at his own folly. “I really
am
an idiot, a right royal moon calf. And you’d have been the first to laugh at me, wouldn’t you, ‘Lendel?” He shook his head at himself. “All right, I guess I’d better figure out how to find my way back without a trail to follow.”

Then the answer came to him, and he laughed at his own stupidity. “Lord and Lady, it’s a good thing you take care of fools. All I have to do is look for
mages
. It’s not like there’s too many enclaves of mages out here, after all! The power should be there for even a dunderhead like
me
to see.”

He closed his eyes again, and took a deep breath of the cold, crisp air.
Center
-
ground
-
and open
-
well, just like I figured, there they are
-

The surge of Gate-energy hit him with a shock, knocking him senseless.

* * *

When Vanyel came to again, the sun was high overhead, shining down on his cheek; it was noon, or nearly. He was lying where he’d fallen, on his side, braced between his pack and the stump. He’d curled up around the pack, and the roots from the stump were digging into his side and leg. His ears were ringing - or was it his head? Whatever; it felt as if he’d been graced with one of Jervis’ better efforts.

Gods
. He glanced up at the sun, and winced.
That was a Gate. Nothing else feels like that. Oh, I hurt. It’s a good thing I was wrapped up in this cloak when I fell over, or I’d have frozen
.

He pushed the pack away, and rolled over onto his stomach. That at least got the sun out of his eyes. He got his knees under him, and pushed himself up off the snow with his arms; he was stiff and cold, but otherwise intact. Only his head hurt, and that in the peculiar “inside” way that meant he’d “bruised” those new senses of his. He knelt where he was for a moment, then pushed his hood back and looked around. It looked as if he’d fallen right over sideways when the shock hit him.

Guess I’d better get moving. Before I turn into a snow-statue
. He pulled himself to his feet with the help of the stump, then stamped around the snow for several moments, trying to get his blood moving again.

I
hope nobody noticed I’m gone. I hope that Gate wasn’t somebody out looking for me. I feel enough of a fool as it is
.

He hitched his pack over his shoulder, and took his bearings.
All right, let’s try again. Center
-
and ground
-
and open
-
and If I find out that Moondance had anything to do with this I’ll
-

His head rang again, and he swayed and almost fell, but this time the shock was a clear, urgent, and unmistakable wordless cry for help. It sobered him as quickly as Andrel’s bucket of cold water.

There was no “presence” to the cry, not like any of the Gifted or the
Tayledras
had; it was just simple and desperate. This was no trained mage or Herald. It could only be an ordinary person in mortal fear.

Gods
! His head swiveled toward the source of the cry as a needle to a lodestone. And without any clear notion of
why
he was doing so, except that it was a cry for help, and he
had
to answer it, Vanyel began stumbling toward the source at a clumsy run.

He had been following a game-trail; now he was right off any path. He ran into a tangle of bushes, and could find no way around it. Driven nearly frantic by the call in his head, he finally shoved his way through it. Then he was in a beech grove; there was little or no growth between the straight, white columns of the trunks, and he picked up his pace until he was at an all-out run.

But the clear, growth-free area was too soon passed; his breath was burning in his lungs as the forest floor became rougher, liberally strewn with tangles of briar and rocks, and hillier as well. His cloak kept hanging up on things, no matter how hard he tried to keep it close to his body. He tripped; stumbled wildly into the trunk of a tree, and picked himself up only to trip a second time and fall flat in the snow. The breath was knocked out of him for a moment, but that panicked, pleading voice in his “ear within” would not let him give up. He scrambled to his feet, pulled his cloak loose from a bramble, and started running again.

He must have tripped and fallen a good dozen times over obstacles hidden in the snow, and he surely made enough noise to have warned anything that wasn’t deaf of his coming.

Anything that wasn’t deaf - or very busy.

Winded, floundering blindly, and unable to focus on anything more than a few feet ahead of him, he fell over a root just as he reached the crest of a low hill, and dropped into a thicket of bushes that crowned it.

He saw the danger before he got up and broke through their protective cover. He froze where he was. The “danger” was too intent on its victims to have paid any attention to the racket he’d been making. Likely an entire cavalry troupe could have come on it unawares.