Winds Of Fate

*Chapter Twenty-four

The alarm cry of a falcon woke him at dawn-and the answering, deeper scream of a hawk.

He started awake, all at once, and knew he was not at home. The rock floor, the lack of movement, and the darkness told him that much before he even opened his eyes. His hand was on his knife-hilt as he blinked the haze of sleep away, running rapidly through all the possibilities of where he was and what had become of his eheletreyvan' s lair- That was all he had a chance to remember as the falcon cried alarm again. He cast about for the door, still disoriented by the strange surroundings. that's Vree-but whose was the hawk?

"Out!. Vree demanded, his mental cry as shrill and penetrating as his physical scream. "Out now! Hurry! Help!" That wasn't the "Help me," version, it was "I need your help." He scrambled over Treyvan's prone body as the gryphon struggled up out of sleep. "Grrrruh?" Treyvan responded, as Darkwind slid down his haunches and into the sunlight. "what?" There were two birds up above, one flapping as clumsily as a just fledged crow, the other ~.unmistakably Vree. The gyre circled in guard-fashion above the first, protecting it as it tried to come in to land.

It was a red-shouldered hawk-It was Dawnfire!" Help me" Help me," came the faint and faltering mental cry' She doesn't know how to land- he realized, just as Treyvan shouldered him aside, leapt into the sky, rose to meet her, , and scooped her from the air with his outstretched talons. he wheeled and dropped her safely in his foreclaws, Coming to rest delicately on his hind feet only, in a thunder of wing-claps, before Darkwind realized what he was doing.

Treyvan balanced precariously as he had alighted, keeping himself from falling with his outstretched wings. The bird lay exhausted in Treyvan's claws, every last bit of energy long since spent. Darkwind took her from the gryphon, and held her in his arms like an injured, shocked fledgling. She lay panting, eyes closed, as he folded her wings over her back, and stroked her head.

Another hand joined his; a hard, but feminine hand. It was Elspeth, wearing only a thin undershift and hose, but carrying her blade unsheathed in her other hand. Her eyes were closed; a slight frown was her only expression-but the MOMENT her fingers touched Dawnfire's back, the bird began to revive.

Her head lifted, and she craned it around to stare up at him. "Darkwind?" she Mindspoke, softly. "Is this real, or some illusion he created to torment me? Am I truly free? And home?" you're free, kechara," he replied, anger and grief combined to choke off his words. it was one thing to know intellectually that she might have been trapped in her bird's body; it was another to see it, Sense it. , "I saw Vree, or he saw me I forget," she said, closing her eyes again, and bending her head, as if she did not want to see him through the hawk's eyes. "He brought me here. but I was so tired-" '(The sword will work better through direct contact," Elspeth said quietly. I If you can put her down on my bed, and I can lay Need next to her-" NO sooner spoken than done., and with the blade touching her, Dawnfire gained strength quickly, asking for water and food. The latter, Darkwind fed her as he would an eyas: little morsels cut from a fresh rabbit that Vree brought back within moments of her asking for something to eat. She took each tidbit daintily, and it was plain from her condition that she had not been feeding well in Mornelithe's hands.

Outwardly he was calm- Inwardly he was in turmoil. How to tell her that her body was dead-that she was still as trapped now as she was in Falconsbane's hands? There was no hint of Kyrr in her thoughts-so the blade's guess, that Mornelithe had killed the bird's spirit with her body was probably right. That gave them a little more time than if she'd had to share Kyrr's mind-but it would only postpone the end a little

longer. joy at her recovery, anguish at her condition, rage at the one who had brought her to this-guilt because he was partly to blame. Warring emotions kept him silent as he fed her, wondering what to say and how to say it.

"Dawn-" he began, hesitantly.

"Darkwind, you're in danger," she interrupted urgently. She twisted her head to look at the strangers. "You're all in danger, terrible danger!" Quickly she told them of all she had heard; and most importantly, of Falconsbane's new plan, his decision to make Outland alliances.

Alliances? Oh, blessed gods- He forgot his other worries in the face of this new threat, for Falconsbane alone was bad enough. Falconsbane with allies was a prospect too awful to contemplate. Allies with mage-powers, allies with armies-either would spell disaster for the precarious hold k'sheyna maintained on power here, but this Ancar evidently had mages and armies, according to Elspeth. k'sheyna would be obliterated, and every other Vale faced with a formidable threat.

If he gets help like that, there won't be anything beyond him-The Heralds-and their Companions-questioned Dawnfire closely as he closed his eyes and tried to think of all the possibilities. Their reaction was identical to his-not too surprising, given that he thought this "Ancar" that Dawnfire said Falconsbane was meeting was undoubtedly the same man who had been doing his best to level their land. It was not a common name; it was beyond likely that there were two of them.

And although it seemed a terribly long way to travel just for a meeting with a possible ally, Mornelithe was a powerful Adept, and a desirable acquisition, so far as Ancar's position was concerned. The King of Hardorn needed mages; he'd been actively recruiting them. He might not yet have any Adept-class; it might be well worth it to him to come this far.

And a similar search had already brought Elspeth and Skif just as far.

"He said he was meeting the man in three days," Dawnfire was saying when he opened his eyes again to pay attention to what was going on around him. Now there were seven sets of eyes fixed on the exhausted hawk; the two Heralds, the two gryphons, the pair of Companions, and Nyara, who seemed as upset as any of them.

He thought he knew the reason why. Perhaps she sees herself in Dawnfire's entrapment. that was two days ago," Dawnfire continued. "I escaped that afternoon, and I've been flying in circles ever since, trying to find my way home. So today, or the day after, they will meet."

"Ancar wouldn't have come all this way just to turn around," Elspeth said grimly. "He wants this alliance, wants it badly. He's got no other reason to leave his own realm, and I don't care how much Hulda taught him, he wouldn't leave the place even in her hands if there was any other way out. Gods-with Falconsbane's power and Ancar's armies-and his recklessness-we won't have a chance. We've got to stop this before it happens."

"We have an opportunity to put paid to both our enemies," Darkwind growled, his hands clenched into fists. "Not only to stop this alliance, but take both our enemies at one stroke. I must talk to the Elders." He started to get up; Skif caught his elbow and his attention. "You'd better include Elspeth in your plans, no matter what else you do," he whispered, "or she's likely to march right in there on her own." She, who holds a grudge like an eyas binds to a kill. He nodded curtly, annoyed, but knowing Skif was right. The gryphons had a grudge of their own to settle. They probably wouldn't try to stop her.

"Settle down, you lot!" Need growled suddenly, startling all of them.

"I don't know what's set the burr under your tails so you aren't thinking, children, but I stopped falling for tricks like this one a millennium ago and I'm not going to let you cart me into a trap now. I said he likely wouldn't be able to use me; I'd prefer not to put that to the test, if you don't mind." They stared at each other in shock, Dawnfire included.

"What? "Darkwind asked.

"Let me spell it out for you. Dawnfire was allowed to escape, so that she could bring you this trumped-up story. So that you lot would go charging off straight into his loving arms." Nyara was the first to recover. "oh, no," she whispered. "It is too, too like my own escape-an escape that was not. This sword is right!" Elspeth set her chin stubbornly, her eyes flashing for a moment, then sighed, and threw up her hands. "Bright Havens, I want to believe it, I really do, because it's such a good chance to get the bastard now, while he's away from his support and his army-but you're right, you're both right. It's too damned pat, too coincidental. Mother's intelligence web had Ancar safe in his own palace when we left. We made much better time than he could have because we're riding Companions. The only way he could possibly have matched our time would be to ride in relays, and how would he manage that off his own lands? He has farther to come than we did on top of all that. So how could he possibly be arriving here just at the same moment we did?"

"And why sssshould he perrrmit Dawnfirrre to overhearrrr hisss plansss?" Treyvan rumbled. "Mossst essspecially, why ssshould he have given herrr to one who wasss not competent with hawksss to take to the mewsss? He wanted herrr to fly to usss with thisss."

"And then wanted us to-what?" Elspeth asked. "Falconsbane never does anything for just one reason. He wants us not only to try and break up this nonexistent meeting, he wants us moved. Why? What's so special about this neutral area where the supposed 'meeting' is? Is it a particularly good place to stage a double ambush?"

"There's nothing special about it that I know of," Darkwind replied, frowning with concentration.

"He can't have meant to catch you as he caught the dyheli, can he?" Dawnfire asked, drooping a little, as she, too, acknowledged the fact that her escape had been too easy. "He deliberately reminded me of what he had done to them there-"

"Which probably means he wanted us to concentrate on that as well," Skif mused aloud. "We know he wants the sword. From what Quenten told me, he probably wants Elspeth as well."

"oh, yes," Nyara agreed, nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, an untrained mage? He uses such as tools. He would be pleased to have you in his hands, lady."

"'So, is there anything else he wants? Something we'd leave unprotectedsomething even the whole Clan might leave unprotected, if we went to them and got more help for this?" Skif continued.

Elspeth glanced sideways at Darkwind. "The Vale itself?" she hazarded." Or your father?

He shook his head. "No, the static protections are too much for him to crack easily. We could return and entrap him before he had even begun to break the outermost shields."

"The Heartssstone?" asked Treyvan, then answered himself. "No, it isss the sssame as for the Vale-" The squall of a hungry young gryphon cut across their speculations, and sent all eyes in the direction of the inner lair.

"No," Treyvan whispered, his eyes widening.

"Yes!" Nyara cried, in mingled pain and triumph. "Yes-that is what he wants-as much as sword and mage, and Starblade and Starblade's son! Revenge, and the souls of your younglings!"

"And I... " Treyvan whispered, his eyes wide with horror, "nearrrly gave it all away to him... again."

It had taken Darkwind no time at all to create a scale-model of the area around the lair, using rocks, twigs, and the flat expanse of sand near the entrance. It was the only place big enough for all of them.

Elspeth shook off the many memories of time spent bending over a sand-table with Kero, and paid close attention to Darkwind. She wondered now how she could have mistaken simple stress for arrogance.

Not thinking clearly lately, are we? she asked herself. Not observing at all well. When this is over, it might be a good idea to take a few days to rest and think. About a lot of things.

"You'll be here," Darkwind said to Skif, placing a pinecone on the bits of rock representing the ruins to the left of the lair.

"And I'll be moving around if I can't get a good knife or bow-shot from there," Skif added.

The Hawkbrother nodded. "Exactly so. You are best as mobile as possible. Now, the little ones, Dawnfire, and the sword will be here, in front of the lair." He placed a cluster of weed-stripped seed-heads and a sliver of wood before the large stone representing the lair, and gave Elspeth a penetrating glance. "You are certain you are willing to give up the use of the blade? It seems unfair." Elspeth shrugged. "It was Need's choice, remember," she pointed out. "We've got to protect the bait somehow, and two of the three of them are female."

"Crap, I'll take care of the little male, too," the blade said gruffly. "what do you think I am, some kind of bab ard w ld v-killer? Besides, the bast ou twtst him up as badly as he has Nyara, if he got his claws on the lad."

"You are not such poor bait yourself, blade-lady," Darkwind replied.

"He wants you as well, as I recall." just make sure he doesn't get me."

"No help coming frrrom the Vale?" asked Hydona, leaning over Skifs shoulder to look at the setup.

Darkwind shook his head. "Not since the message I sent them by bondbird-relay. They are rightly fearful that this may be a double ruse-a feint at the little ones, a pretense that draws us into ambush, and a real strike at the Vale. They have been badly shaken by what they have seen done to my father and do not share my confidence in their own shields. They have called in all the scouts but myself, and are bracing for attack."

"Firrrssst ssssmarrrt thing they've decided in agesss," Treyvan growled, "Even if it doesss leave usss to bearrr the burrrden of ourrrr own defenssssessss. I take it we are herrre, and herrrre?" The gryphon pointed a talon at two feathers stuck in the sand on the opposite side of the lair from Skif's initial position, behind a line of rocks representing the wall the lair had been built into.

"Precisely," Darkwind agreed, "And here are Elspeth and myself " He dropped two rough quartz-crystals opposite the gryphons and nearer to the lair than Skif. "Then the Companions, watching for his creatures coming at us from behind." Two large white flowers, one beside Skif's pinecone, one beside Elspeth's crystal. "Treyvan, we will try to bracket him with magic; once that occurs I do not think he will be looking for a physical attack. That is where you come in-" he nodded at Skif.

"And you, because of that, are the pivotal point of the defense. You look for your opening and take it. The man is as mortal as any to a wellplaced knife or arrow. You are our hidden token, our wild piece."

"What about me?" Nyara asked, in a small voice. "Is there nothing I can do?" Elspeth bit her lip to keep from saying what she was thinking; that there was no way they could trust the Changechild enough to give her a part to play. They certainly couldn't make her part of the bait; neither the gryphons nor Darkwind wanted her near enough to be in range for an attack on them if her father regained control of her.

"Falconsbane does not know you are still with us," Darkwind said, after an uncomfortable silence. "The longer this remains so, the better."

"Stick with me," Skif suggested. "I'm staying out of sight."

"Is this wise?" Darkwind asked Elspeth worriedly. She shook her head just enough to make her hair stir imperceptibly.

"He's assassin-trained," she replied wishing there were somewhere safe they could leave Nyara until this was all over. "And Cymry will be with him, watching his back, the way Gwena will be watching ours. She won't be able to catch him with an unexpected attack. I just hope he doesn't find himself in the position of being forced to let Cymry kill her."

"Or killing her himself," Darkwind added.

Anything more he might have intended to say was lost, for at that moment, Vree sounded the alert from overhead.

"He comes!" the bird shrieked, with mind and voice. "He comes now!..

They scattered for their posts.

Falconsbane prowled the woods that the Birdmen thought were theirs with an ease they would have found appalling, noting the increased levels of shielding about the Vale with a mixture of contempt and anger. There was no doubt of it; they had poured more power into their old shields, added new, and every Adept within the Vale was undoubtedly on alert. The tentative plan he'd formed to extract Starblade from his protectors and retrain him for further use was obviously out of the question now.

He paused in the shelter of a wild tangle of briars and searched for a weak point. There was nothing of the sort. Since there was no one to see him, he permitted himself a savage snarl. All that work, all the patience, the careful planning, the investment of power in Starblade's transformation to puppet, and in the construct that controlled him-all wasted!

He wished he had been able to see through the simulacrum's eyes, but the protections about the Vale had made that impossible. He Still ut the prote' n e a d ad no real idea what had happened when he'd lost his contact with the

Uul laaccrum. Starblade had been near the Heartstone; he knew that i Incee it had been near dawn, Falconsbane assumed that he must ducting his usual nonproductive assessment of the state of hen, out of nowhere, a flash of panic from the crow '- of power as the bird was destroyed. Why, or

4.

the uncontrolled power, killing one Daelon, who had the misfortune do you him up k c# 69 aelon had been useless as a mage,

"You and r t cretary. But any loss at all angered lb "He wamf Q el~y, flinging spells intended to resnare 7ust mak 0 ct otect him. It might have been an accident; it might have been the foolish simulacrum venturing into someone's protected area, or even bumbling into something-doing something as stupid as frightening a pet firebird. Any of those things could have killed it.

But as his spells battered against a new and powerful set of shields, it became obvious that it had not been accident that killed the simulacrum.

It had been deliberate; his plots had been discovered.

And later tries against Starblade had proven just as fruitless. The Birdman had been well protected within shields that predated Falconsbane's interference with the Heartstone; strong, unflawed shields that he could find no way past.

Now he passed within easy striking distance of the Vale-" striking" distance, only if he'd had that alliance with Ancar of Hardorn that he had feigned, if he'd had a dedicated corps of mages, Masters and Adepts-and as he saw the shimmer of power above the Vale he could only curse at his own impotence. Somehow, some way, someone within k'sheyna had learned what he had done to Starblade, had surmised how he controlled the handsome fool. Perhaps it had been one of the Adept's former lovers; in retrospect it had been a mistake to force Starblade to retreat into hermit-like isolation. But he had been afraid that the new persona he had laid over the old would not withstand the scrutiny of close examination.

I should have let him keep his lovers; should have had him employ some Of the pleasuring techniques he learned at my hands. that would have kept them quiet enough. Nothing stops questionings like unbridled lust and the exhaustion afterward.

It was too late now; he'd not only lost Starblade, he'd lost the Vale.

The Birdmen were alert now; there would be no subterfuge clever enough to bypass their protections, and though weakened, they were too formidable for him to take alone.

With luck, the two Outlanders and Starblade's son were on their way to the trap he'd laid for them. Camped within the valley even now were a host of human servants, garbed in the livery of Ancar of Hardorn, led by one who was like enough to that monarch to be his twin. And no illusion had been involved; the conscript was already similar in height, build, and coloring-the same spells that sculpted changes into Falconsbane's flesh had been used at a subtler level to reform this human's face.

There would be lingering traces of magic; but that was what the Outlanders would expect. Ancar was a mage, after all.

Once the Outlanders were in place, watching, the rest of his army would take them from behind.

If I cannot have Starblade, I will have Starblade's son. If I cannot take my vengeance upon the Vale, I can take it upon his sweet, young flesh.

There would be that other young man-malleable, possibly of some use as well. Certainly an entertaining bit of amusement. Likely to be a bargaining chip in some way.

And then there was the girl. Her potential as a mage was high. She was curiously naive in some areas; and that left her a wide range of vulnerable points for Falconsbane to exploit. It had been a very long time since he'd broken a female Adept to his will. He was going to take his time with this one; there would be no mistakes that way-and it would, not incidentally, prolong the pleasure as well.

He slid from shadow to shadow beneath the trees, as surefooted and quiet as the lynx he had modeled himself for. As keen of ear, swift of eye, and cunning-Not even the Birdmen, the scouts and their so-clever birds had ever caught him- He had been wandering freely amid their woodlands since k'sheyna first settled here. And they never once guessed at his silent presence.

My fighters will take Starblade and the Outlanders, and kill or catch the gryphons. I hope they can catch them. I want the satisfaction of killing them myself.

The deep hatred that always rose in him at the thought of gryphons choked his throat and made him grind his teeth in frustration. No matter remote the memories of his other lives were, that one was clear, ear.

"-they had foiled his bid for supremacy in the Mage-Wars, ower, ruined his plans, destroyed his kingdomqsts, they were no more than jumped-up k-,of themselves as sentients, equal to dependence? How dared they ow dared they breed at all? d reduce them to the position he would achieve the sweetest

"'~d irything that the wretched beast and worked for. Only then would I ndranon, the Black Gryphon, with snarling, as he slipped through the

CC doyot. qj him ul) ~ % "You a.

"He wants lust make underbrush without leaving so much as a footprint behind. But most importantly, I will have the children. And through them I will not only control the node, but have the downfall of the entire race in my hands. through them I can spread a plague and a poison that will destroy the minds of any gryphon they meet, and turn them into mere carnivorous cattle. My cattle. To use as I wish. And it is time and more than time that I have that pleasure.

He entered the area of the ruins, skirting the edge just within the cover of the forest. The lair lay beneath the shadows of the trees in the morning, though it enjoyed full sunlight in the afternoon. This was the nearest he had been, save for that one quick foray to place his hand and seal on the youngsters, binding them to himself. they can't have left the young ones alone, without some form of protection. there may be shields, or some of the beast-guardians. He paused for a moment, one deeper shadow within the shadows, his spotted pelt blending with the dappled sunlight on the dead leaves beneath the trees, with the mottled bark of the trunk beside him. He wore scouting leathers very similar to what the Birdmen wore; that was one subterfuge that had stood him in good stead in the past. If he was seen, he had only to create a fleeting illusion of Birdman features, and other scouts would assume he was one of their number.

A quick glance upward showed him nothing was aloft-nothing but what he expected. Two tiny specks, hardly large enough to be seen, circling overhead. Waiting. That would do.

He set out a questing finger of Mage-Sight, looking for what might have been left behind with the gryphon young.

A shimmering aura flickered about the lair in a delicate rainbow of protection. But beneath the shimmer-a brighter glow of power. the shields I knew of-yes-and something more-He paused; Looked, and Looked again, hardly able to believe his luck.

They had left the artifact behind to guard the young ones! Its protections were unmistakable, and just the touch of them awoke avarice in his heart. the age-the power-woman's power, but there is little I cannot overcome and turn to my own use-I must have this thing. I must! And they have left it for my taking!

Elation faded, replaced by cold caution. Perhaps the Outlanders would be that foolish, and even the gryphons-but would Darkwind? The boy was a canny player; surely he had left more protections behind than that, for all that he had renounced magic.

Falconsbane Looked farther, deeper into the ruins than he had ever bothered before; looking for traps, for any hint of magic, even old, or apparently inactive magic. It was always possible that some ancient ward or guardian still existed here that Darkwind had left armed against him.

But there were no signs of any such protections.

He Looked farther still. He had assumed that they knew by now what he had done to the young ones. Was it possible, barely possible, that they did not know of his hand on the gryphlets? Had he overestimated their intelligence, their caution? Was it possible after all that they had been so caught up in what he had done to Starblade and Dawnfire that they had missed his sign and seal on their own young? Or could it be that the advent of the Outlanders had distracted them?

No. No, that is why they left the artifact, I am sure of it. To protect the young against me. the shields are too obviously set against my power; even the shields of the artifact itself Then, just when he thought perhaps he was searching in vain for further traps, he caught a hint of magic-energy, a tremor of power. Old magic.

Very old magic.

It was not active, but the presence of magic that ancient attracted his curiosity anyway. He had time to spare; such potentials were worth investigating.

It was probably nothing; perhaps some long-abandoned shrine, or an ancient talisman, buried beneath a mound of rubble. It might be worth retrieving at some point, if only as a curiosity.

He moved in for a closer Look, half-closing his eyes, his talons digging into the bark of the tree beside him as he concentrated.

And he tore an entire section of bark from the tree trunk as his hand closed convulsively.

A Gate!

No. Yes. It couldn't be. Not the site of a temporary Gate, but one of the rare, powerful, permanent Gates-No more than a handful of Adepts at the time of the Mage-Wars had ever constructed permanent Master Gates; they required endless patience, vast expenditures of energy that could have gone into constructing armies and weapons. Those few who had done so had made a network of such Gates, all tied into one another, crisscrossing their little kingdoms.

Urtho had been one of those; that was how the Kaled'a'in had survived the downfall of his kingdom to become the Shin'a'in and Tayledrasthey had fled through the Gate at the heart of his citadel to one on the edge of the area. Possibly even this one. Falconsbane had never built one-not in any of his lifetimes. He'd known of the network Urtho had built, of course, but he had never once entertained the idea that even part of that network could still exist.

A Gate, even a Master Gate, couldn't have survived the Wars, or the years, could it? It simply wasn't possible-Falconsbane could not ignore the proof of his own senses. It was possible.

And the Gate had survived.

The touch of it drove him wild with the desire to have it under his control. The node, the gryphons, the artifact, and now this-He had to have it. He would have it. Then he would excavate it, study it, learn how to set it-and use it, use it to penetrate to the remains of Urtho's stronghold at the heart of the Plains. With a Gate like this one, he could bypass all the protections of the damned horse-lovers, get in, get what he wanted, and get out with no interference. He could go anywhere there was another permanent Gate, whether or not he knew the territory. He could construct temporary Gates no matter where he was and link into this one at any distance, once he keyed it into himself.

Working that way would drain only a fraction of the energy of an ordinary Gate-spell from him. That was the deadly burden of Gating; the energy for the Gate came from the mage.

Or from someone tied to the mage with the kind of bond as deep as a lifebond. Not many knew that a mage tied by a lifebond to another mage could feed his beloved with the energies needed to fuel the Gate-spell.

Fewer knew what Falconsbane knew, that there was another bond as deep as a lifebond; the bond he built between himself and his victim when he made that victim an extension of himself.

As deep as a lifebond; it had to be, to survive the endless struggle of his victims to be free. Built out of both pleasure and pain at the most primitive, instinctive levels, it made his servants need him more than they needed food, drink, sleep-That opened all their resources to him; to the point, if needed, that he could drain them to their death. He could use those resources to open the Gate and make it his in a way that no other Adept ever had.

But first-he had to make the area his. And that meant retrieving and subverting the young gryphons, to open up the node to his use. Right now there didn't appear to be anything in the way of that.

He released the trunk of the tree, dropping bits of wood and bark as he shook his tingling hand, and stepped cautio,,tsly out into the sunlight.

He kept to the shadows, still. There was no point in walking about in She had no chance to ask him what was wrong; even as he rose to a half-crouch, Falconsbane whirled and dropped to one knee, arms outstretched, hands palm out. Elspeth's stomach knotted with fear.

Darkwind uttered a strangled cry and rose to his feet, flinging one hand protectively toward Skif.

Too late. Elspeth choked on a cry of horror as Falconsbane's bolt of magic struck Skif and threw him into the stones of a ruined wall.

And too late for Cymry, as well; a second bolt struck her, dropping her where she stood like a stricken deer.

Elspeth's horrified "No!" was lost in the scream of pure hatred that tore the air like a jagged blade as Skif's limp body dropped to the stones beyond Cymry's.

It was Nyara, leaping in defense of Skif, who attacked her father with the only weapons at her disposal; her claws and teeth, her face a snarling animal-mask of pain, anguish, and hatred.

He intercepted her in mid-leap, and with a single blow of his powerful arm, flung her across the open space to land stunned atop the largest of the young gryphons.

There was no time to wonder if Skif and Cymry survived; no time even to think. She bottled her fear, her anger, though they made her want to run to her old friend's side-or run and hide. The Hawkbrother had joined in combat with the Changechild Adept, and there was no turning back now. Elspeth joined her power to Darkwind's, feeding him with the raw energy she drew up from the node. He knew how to use it; she could only watch and learn-for when he tired, it would be her turn to strike. From the other side, lances of fire rained down on Falconsbane, power pouring from the outstretched claws of Treyvan, with his mate backing him as she backed Darkwind.

For a moment, it was impossible to see the Adept beneath the double attack-and during that moment she dared to hope.

But then, a shadow appeared amid the glare of power-then more than a shadow-then-Pain.

She thought she cried out; she certainly fell back a pace or two and covered her eyes with her upraised arm, as Darkwind's blast of power reflected back into their faces.

When she blinked her tearing eyes clear, Falconsbane stood untouched, within a circle of scorched earth.

Darkwind had taken the brunt of the blast on their side, as had Treyvan on the gryphons'. Treyvan crouched with head hanging, panting; Darkwind was on his knees beside her, shaking his own head, dazed and unable to speak.

Falconsbane ignored the rest and concentrated his cold gaze on her.

Her stomach turned into a cold ball of ice. He smiled, and she stepped back another pace, her hand reaching for a sword she no longer wore, palms sweating, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Well," he said, his voice full of amusement. "So you have some fight still. I will enjoy breaking you, Outlander." His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered to a seductive purr. "I will enjoy taking both your mind and your body-"

"Not this day," called a high voice, in pure Shin'a'in, from the ruins behind Falconsbane.

Falconsbane's head snapped around; Elspeth gathered her primitive, clumsy power just in case this was nothing more than a ruse.

But there were people behind the Adept; perched atop rocks, peering from behind walls, an entire line of people. Black-clad, one and all, some veiled, some not, but all with the same cold, implacable purpose in their ice-blue eyes. And one and all with drawn bows pointed at Falconsbane's heart.

"Not this day, nor any other," Darkwind coughed, struggling to his feet. Elspeth gave him a hand, and stood beside him, helping him balance.

He did not look to be in any shape to enforce those brave words; he swayed as he stood, even with Elspeth's unobtrusive support, and his face was drawn with pain.

But there were all those arrows pointed at Falconsbane; surely they had him now-didn't they?

Or did they?

After the first flash of surprise, Falconsbane straightened again and laughed, sending a chill down Elspeth's back. "Do you think me so poor a player, then, to show all my counters before the game is over?" Elspeth did not even have a chance to wonder what he meant.

She had no idea of where the thing came from, but suddenly it was dropping down out of the clouds-a huge, black, bat-winged creature that seemed big enough to swallow her whole and have room for Gwena afterward. It buffeted her with its wings, knocking her off her feet with a single blow, then slammed her into a rock-all the breath was driven out of her by the impact; her head snapped back against the stone, and she slid down it, seeing stars.

She blacked out for a moment, but fought back from the dark abyss that threatened to swallow her consciousness. As she struggled back, shaking her head and swallowing the bile of nausea, Falconsbane laughed again.

Her eyes cleared. That was when she saw that there were two of the things. One of them had Hydona trapped beneath it, its talons on her throat, ready to rip it out if she struggled. She looked out helplessly as the creature drew blood and looked expectantly at its master. Then Elspeth could only stare in horror-The other had Gwena in the same position.

Darkwind lay in a heap just beyond her; eyes closed, unmoving.

Treyvan faced the beast that had his mate with every feather and hair standing on end, kill-lust making him tremble. Muscles rippled as he restrained himself from attacking, and the stone beneath his talons flaked away in little chips from the pressure of his claws.

"Gwena-: she Sent.

"Don't!" the Companion shot back. "Don't move, don't anger it!.. Her mind-voice died to a whisper as the beast tightened its grip on her, and little beads of blood stained her white coat under its talons. "Don't do anything. Please."

"Stalemate, I think?" Falconsbane said genially. The arrows of the Shin'a'in did not waver, but neither did the archers loose them.

"Well, then. In that case, I think I shall fetch what I came for." Hydona uttered a wail that was choked off by the brutal grip of the beast prisoning her. Treyvan seethed with rage, eyes burning with fury.

"It is not yours, Changechild," said one of the Shin'a'in, in a hollow voice that sounded as if it came up from the depths of a well. "It was not made by you, it does not obey you; it is not yours." Falconsbane lifted an eyebrow. And half-turned to lash out with yet another bolt of power; this one aimed at the young gryphons, a flood of poisonous red.

"no!

The cry was torn from Elspeth's throat-but from others as well. One of those others was free to act.

Nyara leapt to her feet, her hands full of Need's hilt, holding it between herself and her father. The bolt of power struck the blade instead of the young gryphons, and built with an ear-shattering wail as Need, collected the blast And changed it; from sickly red to burnished gold. Elspeth's hea~. stopped as she watched, not fully understanding what was happening . but fearing the worst. She heard Darkwind utter something about "transmuting," and then he trailed off into a stream of what she guessed to be incredulous Tayledras curses.

Need split the sphere of power in two, one half enveloping each young gryphon, filling them with light. Falconsbane's scream of rage drowned

Elspeth's gasp of joy, but it could not stop what was happening. The golden light burned away at a kind of shadow within the two youngstersthe shadows melted even as she watched, melted and evaporated, leaving them clean of its taint.

Distracted by the light and their master's cry of outrage, Mornelithe's dark beasts loosed their grip a little.

Darkwind moved.

Faster than a striking viper, he whipped the climbing-stick that never left him from the sheath on his back, and hooked it into the beast's throat. He never gave the creature a chance to realize what had happened; he yanked the hook toward himself, giving Gwena the opening to kick and buck herself free of it as the creature tried to both right itself and disengage the hook that was tearing its flesh from inside. The Companion scrambled out of the way, sides heaving, legs trembling, blood pouring from a dozen puncture wounds, to collapse at Elspeth's feet.

The creature paid her no heed; all of its attention was taken up with Darkwind.

Elspeth hovered protectively over Gwena; the Companion was shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind, but her wounds were already closing. She leapt up to stand between Gwena and the beast, but there was no need for her protection. She had wondered about Darkwind's peculiar weapontool; now she saw how an expert used it.

Darkwind's face was contorted into a snarl of rage as he attacked the creature, forcing it to go on the defensive; the spiked end of the tool drove into an eye, blinding the beast, as Darkwind backed it into a rock and it staggered. He slashed in a broad flat stroke, laying the beast's belly open, and it fell forward to protect itself. It screamed, and Darkwind reversed the stick, hooking the beast's mouth and tearing at the tongue and lips. It tried to buffet him with its wings, screaming as its eye and mouth dripped thick, brownish blood; he simply hooked the membrane of the wings and tore them, while he ducked under clawstrikes, or fended them off with the spike. Every time there was an opening, he darted in and stabbed again with the spike; he wasn't yet doing the beast lethal damage, but he had to be causing it a lot of pain.

It bled from a dozen wounds now, and Darkwind showed no signs of tiring.

Screams of bestial pain from across the court made her dare a glance in that direction. Hydona, bleeding, but still full of fight, stood defiantly between Falconsbane and her children. Her wings were at full spread, mantling over her young, every feather on end. Treyvan clung to the back of the other beast, trying to sever its spine, each strike succeeding in removing a foot-long strip of meat from its neck. The creature screamed and tried in vain to throw him off, leathery wings flailing. No matter the gryphon was half this beast's size; he was going to win. Treyvan was astride the beast's back even if it tried to roll, his claws gouging deep and holding fast with its every swift move, then moving upward as if he was walking up the thing's back like it was a rock, driving deep holes in with every step, and taking a clump of meat with him at every opportunity. Elspeth swallowed in surprise; she had imagined what the gryphons' fearsome natural weaponry could do, but actually seeing it was another matter.

Falconsbane seemed to be ignoring both the beasts, his attention fixed on the Shin'a'in. A moment later she knew why, as a flight of arrows sang toward him, only to be incinerated a few arm's lengths away.

Another scream in her ear reminded her that there was equal danger, nearer at hand. Darkwind's beast was holding its own against him now, and even regaining a little ground, its one good eye mad with rage and fixed on its target. Even if Treyvan won his contest, he could still lose if this beast killed Darkwind.

She had to help him, somehow-One good eye-She acted with the thought; dropped one of her knives into her hand from its arm-sheath, aimed, and threw, as one of the beast's lunges brought that good eye into range.

It missed, bouncing off the eye-ridge. The creature didn't even notice.

She swore, and dropped her second knife, as Darkwind slipped on blood-slick rock and fell.

Crap!

The beast lunged with snapping jaws, managing to catch his leg in its teeth. He screamed and beat at the beast's head with his stick, trying to pry the jaws apart, stabbing at the eye.

Suddenly calm, Elspeth waited dispassionately for her target to hold still a moment-and threw.

The creature let Darkwind go. throwing its head up and howling in agony-and instead of scrambling out of the way as Elspeth expected, Darkwind lunged upward with the pointed end of his staff, plunging it into newly-revealed soft skin at the base of the thing's throat, and leaning on it as hard as he could.

The creature clawed at the stick, at him, falling over sideways and emitting gurgling cries as he continued to lean into the point, thrashing and trying to dislodge it from its throat, all with no success. Darkwind's eyes streamed tears of pain, and he sobbed under his breath, but he continued to drive the point deeper and deeper.

It died, breathing out bubbles of blood, still trying to free itself.

Across the stretch of scorched earth, Treyvan had clawed his way up his enemy's back to the join of neck and spine. As Elspeth looked briefly away from Darkwind's beast, Treyvan buried his beak in his foe's neck, and jerked his head once. The beast collapsed beneath him.

Treyvan's battle shriek of triumph was drowned in Falconsbane's roar of rage.

Before anyone could move, the Adept howled again, his eyes black with hate, his hands rending the air as he clawed at it. Elspeth did not realize he was making a magical gesture until an oily green-brown smoke billowed up from the ground at his feet, filling the space between the ruined walls in an instant, completely obscuring everything that it rolled over.

Poison! That was her first, panic-stricken thought, as the cloud washed over her before she could scramble out of its path. There was a hum of dozens of bowstrings as the Shin'a'in loosed their arrows.

But though the thick, fetid smoke made her cough uncontrollably and brought tears to her eyes, it didn't seem to be hurting her any. She reached out a tentative Mindtouch for Gwena.

"I'll be all right," came the weak reply. "Don't move; the nomads are still shooting." And indeed, she heard bowstrings sing and the hiss of arrows nearby.

But not a great deal else.

"Darkwind?" she called. "Are you all right?"

"As well as may be, lady," he replied promptly, pain filling his voice.

He coughed. "Stand fast, I am going to disperse this. I have enough power for that, at least." A moment later, a fresh wind cut through the fog, thinning it in heartbeats, blowing it away altogether as Elspeth took in deep, grateful breaths of clean air and knuckled her eyes until they stopped tearing.

She looked first for Falconsbane; he was no longer there, but where he had stood were dozens of arrows stuck point-first into the earth-and leading away from the place was a trail of blood.

That was all she had time to recognize; in the next moment, a surge of powerful energy somewhere nearby disoriented her for a moment. She might have written it off as a spasm of dizziness, had she not seen Darkwind's face.

He stared off into the ruins, his mouth set in a grim line.

"He used the last of his energies to set a Gate-spell back to his stronghold," the Hawkbrother said, bitterly. "Shaeka. He has escaped us."