Owlsight v(dt-2

by Mercedes Lackey

  They didn’t descend to the earth again until they were far from the encampment. Two dyheli waited impatiently in a clearing to carry them further toward safety. With the moon on the wane, the dyheli were only moving shadows below to Darian’s eyes, but to Kuari’s, the thick darkness made no difference. With Kuari to guide him, Darian followed Snowfire down to the ground; the dyheli (not Tyrsell, but a swift runner all the same) was at his side as his feet touched the moss. Faster than thought, Darian was in the saddle, and the dyheli bounded away, no more than a pace or two behind his herdmate.

  There was neither the time nor the leisure for either of them to talk, not with the dyheli at full gallop. Darian hung on, most of his attention with Kuari, who scouted the back-trail, watchfully making certain that barbarians had not somehow detected them. Huur and Hweel scouted ahead, serving as their guides as the moon set and the darkness thickened further.

  Darian had made so many similar rides in the last four years that his senses were keenly attuned to the signals that meant real danger. He no longer started, hand to weapon, at every little sound. The farther they got from the encampment, the more he relaxed - insofar as it was possible to do so. The mission had only begun; it would be a very long night before it was over.

  We got away with our spy-out; that’s a decent omen. So far, so good.

  The war council wasn’t waiting for their report in the Vale. Tonight was the night of confrontation, and the barbarians weren’t as close to the allies as that. Their own war band had an encampment of their own, near enough for an effective strike at the barbarians, but hopefully far enough away that the barbarian scouts wouldn’t detect them.

  The dyheli slowed to a walk as they neared the periphery of the camp. With Darian just a pace behind him, Snowfire answered three low-voiced challenges before the dyheli brought them to a shallow cave in the hillside facing away from the barbarians, and into a circle of firelight reflecting off faces that looked up at their approach. This cave was the only spot safe enough for a fire and offering enough privacy for the war council.

  Once they were out of the saddle and settled in among the rest, taking seats cross-legged on the soft sand floor, Darian reported his findings first. Snowfire listened as intently as the others, although, except for the identification of the clan-totem, there wasn’t much real information there. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more,” Darian ended, on a note of apology. “But at some point we’ve got to get hold of one of their people - maybe a child - and get their language. There’s too much I missed by not understanding their conversation.”

  Snowfire then made his own report. “I didn’t see a mage or a shaman anywhere among the men, nor did I see a special tent, or any of the sort of equipment and paraphernalia that a shaman or mage would require,” he said, eliciting a nod from Firesong. “From the little of their speech that I understood, I believe that they call themselves the “Ghost Cat” clan. If what I heard is true, they believe their totemic animal actually led them here. I also understood that they are terrified of the Change-Circles, and will make any detour to pass around them, and that corresponds with what Kel has observed. They don’t seem to be aware of the existence of Errold’s Grove or k’Valdemar Vale; as far as they are concerned, this is completely unknown, probably empty territory. I saw some preparation for fighting, but not what I would expect if they planned a major assault. In my opinion, they are ready to fight, and will if they see the need to attack or defend, but it did not look to me as if they planned to go to war.”

  Kero nodded, and looked first into Sayvil’s eyes, then nodded at Eldan. “Then we should go ahead with our plan. We come in, show superior abilities, and try to awe them. I’ll have the Skybolts in place as backup for the contact party, but they won’t show their faces unless the contact party has to be rescued. Sound right to everyone else?”

  Darian followed Kerowyn’s glance around the circle; there was no dissension, but he didn’t expect any at this point. After all, they’d been over and over this plan so many times that they had, he hoped, worked any flaws out of it.

  “Let’s do it,” Firesong said. “Before I lose my nerve.”

  He’s joking, Darian thought as they all stood, and shivered. I wish I could.

  Now it was time for Tyrsell to join the group, but as Firesong’s mount, not Darian’s. Darian would remain with the Skybolts as advance scout, ready to mount a rescue, should that become necessary. This did not make Darian feel any better; he could not help thinking about all those well-made arrows he’d seen being fletched, and imagining his friends facing a hail of them.

  Kerowyn would not be with the contact party either; that was Eldan’s place. Like Darian, Kero had a different place to fill. She would be with her troops, waiting in hiding, hoping she wouldn’t be needed.

  She isn’t any happier about that than I am. Kerowyn hadn’t said anything, certainly hadn’t done anything, but there was no doubt in Darian’s mind that she would gladly have accepted any excuse to get Eldan out of the contact party.

  But there were only two Heralds, and Eldan was the diplomat of the two; it was, as he had gently reminded Kerowyn, his place to be conspicuous, at least for the moment.

  Kelvren, who was so excited by his part in this that his hackles were up, was to be the crowning piece of the display. Whether or not these people were familiar with gryphons from afar, they could never have seen one up close, and to have Kel come swooping in out of the dark would be a considerable shock.

  With Eldan and his Companion in the lead, Snowfire and Firesong flanking him riding dyheli, and followed by a good-sized escort of mounted Skybolts, the party’s size should be enough to surprise the barbarians. Appearing suddenly and unexpectedly out of the night was a time-honored tactic of the Hawkbrothers; it worked as an effective way to intimidate interlopers more often than it failed.

  Darian hoped that tonight would not be counted as one of the failures.

  Lord Breon had wanted badly to be included as one of the party, and had only been dissuaded from his intention by Kerowyn. The Herald-Captain had pointed out that it was her duty to protect him, not the other way around, then added that she didn’t know the territory around Kelmskeep half so well as its Lord; if it came to a running fight, she needed his expertise. So Lord Breon was also going to be an observer, and probably would be fretting inside as much as Kero or Darian.

  The darkness was their friend, not the barbarians’. With the aid of the three owls, they moved into position without disturbing the few sentries, much less the sleeping camp. The barbarian sentries were posted within sight of the dying campfire anyway, too close to the camp to be an effective ward against a force like theirs.

  As Kero arranged her own fighters, positioning Darian and Kuari as lookouts, the others moved closer still, just barely out of the barbarians’ sight, as near as they dared.

  Darian stayed where Kerowyn had placed him, in another tree, halfway between her people and the camp. It wasn’t as safe a perch as it might have seemed; one of the things that the contact party was going to produce was a lot of light, and he would make a tempting and easy target if anyone spotted him.

  In a situation like this one, the Gift of Mindspeech was all the more valuable; everyone knew when everyone else was in place and ready, with no clumsy signals that might be misheard or not heard at all. Without that warning, he might have been so startled as to lose his balance when the contact party made their initial move; as it was, he winced involuntarily when the group revealed their presence.

  It must have been a hundred, a thousand times worse for the barbarians.

  For them, there was no warning. In one moment, they slept peacefully, the forest sounds of crickets and frogs, the occasional bird call, no different than any other night. In the next, it must have seemed as if the heavens and earth opened up at once.

  With a great flash of light and a corresponding blare of horns - supplied by Kerowyn’s people - the contact party “appeared” out of the dark as if they h
ad suddenly burst through a Gate or were conjured by some other magical means. With mage-lights burning fiercely above them, with the owls flying at head height on either side of the group, they galloped up to the very edge of the camp. At the last moment, Starfall and Snowfire held up their hands, and the owls landed neatly on the gloves. The whole camp was roused, of course, but very few had the temerity to burst out of their tents, and fewer still to brandish the weapons they’d seized.

  Giving them no time to recover from the first shock, the second descended from the dark sky - Kelvren, in full panoply, his wings providing a thunder of his own as he landed in front of Eldan.

  Darian had to give the barbarians credit for bravery; they were shaking, as pale as snow and plainly terrified, but they stood their ground.

  Yes, but can they stand the third shock?

  A deep and angry “voice” shouted inside Darian’s head - and in the heads of every other creature present that hadn’t shielded against it. Darian had put up just enough of a shield to keep the voice from being painful, but he wanted to hear what Tyrsell said. For this was Tyrsell’s contribution, his ability to Mindspeak to anyone and anything, and if the barbarians weren’t familiar with Mindspeech, this might well be the most frightening shock of all.

  :Who are you, invaders? How dare you intrude on us?: Tyrsell demanded. :Why are you here? What excuse have you for invading our lands, stealing our game, devouring our grazing? Why should we not destroy you at this moment, and leave your bones to lie in the dust as a warning to others?:

  There was no telling how the barbarians would take this - how they would even “hear” it and interpret it - but this was the best that any of them could come up with, providing equal parts of threat, intimidation, and opportunity for explanation. Firesong produced appropriate stage-dressing as Tyrsell Mindspoke, sending up fountains of light on either side, as his firebird made a similar entrance to Kelvren’s. Aya plunged down from the treetops, showering false sparks as he flew, then coming in to land on Firesong’s outstretched hand.

  Darian held his breath, watching the barbarians for dangerous behavior. When it was apparent that the contact party was waiting for an answer - waiting angrily, but still waiting and holding their hand - people ventured from tents, milled around a little, talking nervously, then centered all their activity on three men in particular.

  As the contact party continued to wait, standing as rigid and unmoving as a group of statues, those three men walked cautiously to the edge of the camp, clutching their weapons.

  No eclipse-amulets! That was something Darian had been watching for particularly - the mage (or shaman) who had led the first barbarian invasion had worn one, and Darian had gotten the impression that it was worn by the leaders of a rather nasty magical cult, even by barbarian standards. If he’d gotten even a glimpse of another one like it, he was going to call a retreat!

  But no; the three leaders - a wiry man with grizzled hair and beard, and two younger, much more muscular fellows - had donned quite a bit of jangling jewelry before they ventured forward, but anything like an amulet was cat-headed or cat-shaped.

  The one with the gray hair spoke loudly and slowly, with a great many gestures that didn’t mean anything to Darian. Meanwhile, the other two shook rattles and brandished, not weapons, but brightly painted rawhide shields.

  :He asks if we are demons of the darkness, and if we are, says that the other two are powerful shamans who will drive us away.: There was no doubt of Tyrsell’s grim amusement with this situation. :Firesong, why don’t you be your theatrical self while I answer him?:

  Firesong raised Aya over his head while Tyrsell stepped up beside Kelvren. The firebird threw off a veritable waterfall of false sparks, which rained down on his bond-mate, as Firesong conjured another mage-light in the palm of his other hand.

  :Fools! Demons of the darkness shun the light, not court it!: Tyrsell “shouted” contemptuously. :We are the keepers and guardians of this land, and we demand that you answer to us for your invasion!:

  Nervously, the two would-be shamans dropped their painted shields as ineffective, and took up spears instead. The leader, however, waved them back, and addressed the party again.

  :He says that if we are not demons, then he demands that we meet him in daylight.: Now Tyrsell’s mind-voice held a grudging admiration. :Pretty brave fellow, to stand up to us like this.:

  Whatever the answer was from the contact party, Darian didn’t hear it; he only got Tyrsell’s third (and final) announcement. :Because we are just, we give you leave to defend your actions, and time to choose your words with care,: Tyrsell said sternly.: Look for us by dawnlight.:

  The party backed up, one slow step at a time - then there was another explosion of purposefully blinding light and blare of horns - and when silence and darkness descended again, the party had “vanished.” At least, they had as far as the barbarians were concerned.

  In actual fact, of course, they simply rode or flew away, but with their eyes dazzled and ears ringing, the barbarians wouldn’t have seen that.

  Darian waited until the allies were safely behind the Skybolts’ lines before making his own move - which was to return to the barbarian camp to see if he could make out what their reaction was.

  Although he couldn’t understand a word they said, some things were clear enough. The children and most of the women were absolutely terrified, but not all. Several hardy souls among the women rallied - and railed at - their more timid sisters, suggesting to Darian that the older ones had seen magic before and knew the difference between show and substance.

  And they aren’t afraid of magic, which means. . . what? That it’s never been used successfully against them?

  Among the men, only the younger ones were cowed; virtually all the males of Dalian’s age and older had gotten over their shock and gathered around the three leaders, deep in a council of their own. And once the hardier women had calmed the rest, they joined the council circle as well!

  It was possible for Darian, watching through Kuari’s eyes, to infer some things - most notably, a sense of caution, in the intonations of those who spoke, in the postures of those who listened. Finally he decided that he had seen and heard enough, and retreated behind his own lines.

  “They’re not as scared as we’d like,” he reported, as he dropped down out of the tree into the midst of his own war council.

  “But not aggressive either?” Kero asked quickly.

  “Not aggressive, at least not at the moment,” Darian confirmed. “They’ve seen showy magic before, I’d bet on it.”

  “On to the next phase, then,” Snowfire said. “We approach at dawn, and see what they have to say for themselves.” He looked up at the tree branches above his head. “Dawn isn’t that far off; we won’t have long to wait.”

  In the mist and still, pale gray of dawn, the contact group approached the barbarian camp once again - this time without the lights and noise. They stopped a bit further away, however, just out of arrow-shot range, where Kelvren joined them.

  A cautious deputation approached from the encampment, but not immediately. From the haggard faces and dark-circled eyes, it appeared that the barbarians had gotten no more sleep than the allies. Once again, Darian was in the tree branches, but hidden better this time, and without Kuari. The eagle-owls had no advantage during daylight, except for show; Darian was here to satisfy his own restlessness, not as a primary scout. That duty had gone to Wintersky, Ravenwing, and their bondbirds.

  It appeared that at least they were going to be treated as important enough for the barbarians to put on their best finery, for the deputation jingled and clattered with every approaching step. In their own way, they are impressive, he thought, peering through his screen of leaves. The oldest man - possibly the chieftain - had donned a fur cloak of the pelt of a huge cat, with the fully preserved head of its original owner acting as the hood. Their leather tunics and breeks were as well-constructed as Tayledras scout gear, and though they jangled with amulet
s and jewelry, and their decorations were a bit garish for Darian’s taste, they were no worse than the Shin’a’in, who had never seen a color they didn’t love. But they weren’t wearing armor, and there was still no sign of that eclipse-amulet Darian recalled only too well. Unless they were supposed to be sacrificial lambs, they weren’t expecting to meet with physical force in this parley.

  This time, the allies intended to wait for the barbarians to speak first, so they waited with expressionless faces, still mounted, as the strangers approached. They, in their turn, stopped well short of the contact party; the leader cleared his throat ostentatiously when no one spoke, mind-to-mind or otherwise, and began what sounded, from the measured cadences, like a prepared speech.

  :This is the Clan of the Ghost Cat,: Tyrsell interpreted, and with that name, images - of a huge, fierce, and reclusive predator, and of something else, a fleeting shadow by day, a call in the night, a trusted presence that guided. . . . :They claim their totem animal led them here, and by that sign from their gods, they say it is their right to stay. I must admit, as a defense, it has the benefit of being unique and probably unprovable.: