Before he could do anything else, the boy was already at his elbow and had taken the bandage out of his hands. In a moment, he had wrung it as dry as possible and seized his arm.
"Please to hold still, good sir," the boy said, carefully forming the Valdemaran words as he looked directly into Snow-fire's eyes, as if he thought he could give the sense of what he said if he simply spoke slowly and clearly, and locked gazes with his rescuer. Then again, if he had a touch of mind-magic, that might work; Snowfire had not lowered his own shields, so he couldn't have told whether the boy possessed such a thing.
"Yes. Surely-" Snowfire said, too much taken aback to argue. Was the boy in training to be a Healer? It certainly seemed as if he might be. But if that were the case, why was he not in the pale green of a Healer-student?
Using some clean, dry moss picked from a rock beside the stream as a pad, the boy rewrapped the bandage with the deft hands of an expert, putting exactly the right kind of pressure at the proper angles on the wound to hold it closed again. When he came to the end of the bandage and looked at it for a moment in puzzlement, Snowfire took over, and sealed the end of the bandage down again with magic.
And to his surprise, he felt the boy following what he had done with his own mind.
"Oh!" the lad said, sounding surprised. The next words were blurted, as if he spoke before he thought. "So magic is good for something-"
Then he clapped his hand over his mouth, his face a comic mask of dismay.
"The littlest magics are usually the most practical," Snowfire said mildly, in accented Valdemaran. He cleared his throat carefully. "I am Snowfire k'Vala, Scout of the Tayledras-or as you say, Hawkbrothers. I return now to my own people, in a place we have made for ourselves."
The boy ducked his head awkwardly, but his eyes were alive with mingled curiosity and apprehension. "My name is Darian," he said simply. "Darian Firkin. And-ah-thank you. I thought they were going to-kill me."
"I do not think that what they had in mind for you would have been pleasant," Snowfire said carefully, unsure of how much or little to tell the lad. He might well be much older than he looked; he had very old eyes for such a young face, and the face itself was a mask of politeness behind which something else was hidden. "Have you any place you need to go, or a place of safety that I may take you to? Or would you care to come with me to a safe haven?"
The boy held his breath, and slowly the polite mask shattered and fell. He crumpled, sobbing, apparently completely overcome by sudden, overwhelming grief.
Snowfire did not need to be an Empath to read that there was something dreadfully wrong, something triggered by mention of safety, or a safe place to go. He decided on his own that the best place for both of them was back with his little band. Whatever had gone wrong had evidently been horrible, terrifying; it likely had a great deal to do with those barbarians, and was probably something that he and his people urgently needed to know about.
But there was a more immediate need: to soothe the child enough so that he could ride without falling apart. The sooner he got back to camp, the better.
Snowfire had never had a little brother, but he had played the role of confidante and helper a time or two in the past, to warriors, mages, and younger scouts. "Hush, now," he soothed, putting his good, though leather layered, arm about the boy's shoulder-close enough to give emotional support, not so close as to be intrusive. He knew before the boy did, by the imperceptible tensing of the lad's muscles, when he was coming too close, and backed off a bit. "Here, you may come with me, and we will go to my people. I promise, you will be quite safe enough with us. Eh? Then, when you are rested, you will talk to us, tell us what happened. Perhaps we can help. Even if we cannot, we will see to it that you are safe. Warm and safe and well-fed."
The boy only nodded, and Snowfire mounted, lending the boy a hand so that he could swing up to sit behind the saddle instead of being carried like so much baggage. The boy must have ridden this way before; he put his foot carefully on top of Snowfire's, trusted his weight to Snowfire's arm, and got himself up behind the Tayledras with a minimum of awkwardness. And there he sat, his arms around Snowfire's waist to hold him in place. His sobs had ended, but as he held tightly to Snowfire's waist, the Tayledras felt him shivering, and not with cold, but with suppressed emotion and shock. He was very near a breaking point, and Snowfire wanted him to be safely in the hands of someone who could deal with his trauma before he came to that breaking point.
Nightwind was an Empath as well as a trondi'irn, and she would be the best person for the child at this moment.
Snowfire clucked to the horse, which lengthened its stride readily into a slow canter. Evidently it already preferred Snowfire over its previous masters.
It seemed as if this was something more serious than a single boy and a few sadistic barbarians. Perhaps this situation was more than his little group could deal with; after all, they already had quite a bit on their plate.
After the danger from the mage-storms had ended, magic had been shattered like a broken crystal; the matrixed pattern of ley-lines and nodes was gone as if it had never been, and the energies that had once flowed in them were spread evenly across the face of the land. This had left the more powerful mages at something of a loss, but the Tayledras already had a plan in place to deal with such a contingency. They were a long-sighted and patient people when it came to making and fulfilling plans. They would move with urgency when speed was called for, or could wait for generations to lay something in place.
Magic flowed, like water, and like water it would not remain spread out over the land for long. If left to itself, it would form its own rivers and pools-or ley-lines and nodes-or it could be guided into paths that could be carved for it. The sooner those paths were established, the sooner it could be persuaded to follow those paths, and would flow as it had before-and the less likely it would be that stagnant pools would form, warping creatures and plants as had happened before, in the Pelagirs, after the Mage Wars were ended. There were many more Tayledras now than there had been then, with a great deal more experience, and now that there was no geas laid upon them by the Star-Eyed to cleanse the land, they were free to go out into it and rectify the situation before it became necessary to do those cleansings.
More to the point, since no creature ever acts against its own best interest (even though they may act in enlightened self-interest) if it was the Tayledras mages who reestablished the ley-lines and nodes in a matrix, they would be able to arrange and key them so that it did themselves and their allies the most good. But, conversely, if they left an area unmanaged, it would be altogether likely for other mages to come in and arrange things to their liking.
This was the reason for the groups of Tayledras traveling about now, dealing with Changebeasts, working to link the local magics up with the greater systems already established. The Crown of Valdemar had not only given its blessing to the massive venture, but had funded their needs and ordered support to be given by Guard, Herald, and citizen, with free passage papers and more. That the now-legendary Tayledras Adept Darkwind had the ear of the Queen in the matter had not hurt a bit. Altruistically, the Hawkbrothers and their chosen allies were able to rid the land of some very unpleasant creatures. Realistically, they were creating a matrix that better supported their own Heartstones than even the original had. In the future, it would assure them of more than adequate power for virtually anything they wished to do.
Could it be that some other, rival mages had decided on the same plan?
Of course it could, he told himself. In this case, it wouldn't take an Adept to see what the advantage in it would be. It would only take a perceptive Master, in fact, or someone very educated in the nature of types of magical energy and its tendencies, to plan out a local scale version of-gahhh. Snowfire, you need help, your mind is wandering. Deal with the situation in the here and now, and discuss the implications of your speculations over a good meal by the fire later on.
Well, the best thing he c
ould do now would be to get the boy to a place where he could feel safe. Perhaps after some food and calming, this young Darian could bring himself to reveal what had happened. Surely in Nightwind's hands that would not be long in coming.
Whatever it was, Snowfire was certain, there was going to be a great deal more to it than appeared on the surface.
Snowfire was so deep in his own thoughts that it startled him when the boy spoke. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" came the muffled voice from behind his back.
He considered the language carefully before he replied. He did not want to answer the wrong question and give the boy the impression that he was being uncooperative. "Myself, specifically?" he asked. "Or my people? There are more of us here, not far from here, as I told you."
"Your people," Darian answered, and Snowfire felt him take one hand off of Snowfire's waist; he sniffed, and Snow-fire fished in a pouch at his belt to give the lad a bit of unused bandage to wipe his nose with. "Th-thank you," the boy said carefully.
Interesting that his own thoughts had just been on that very subject, of why the Tayledras were here.
"We are a very special group of Tayledras-your people call us Hawkbrothers, usually-and we are here for a number of reasons which all mesh together. What know you of the mage-storms?" he asked. "I ask this, because it is relevant to why we are here."
He felt the boy shrug. "Not much," Darian admitted. "They upset the weather a bunch, made things bad around here, turned monsters loose. I guess they made it hard for mages to work."
Snowfire thought for a moment, and decided that the most complete, if abbreviated, explanation would certainly not be amiss, and would fill up the time until the moment they arrived at the camp. And besides, it might help keep his mind off how his arm hurt. "I will go back to the very beginning, then-to the cause of it all. Once, so many hundreds of years ago that most of that time is lost even as a legend, there were many of what we know as the Great Mages. These were Adepts so powerful that they had the ability to actually create new creatures that had never existed before, to change the weather, or to make the rocks run like water."
"Was that where the monsters came from?" Darian asked, as Snowfire paused.
"Some of them created creatures that you would take to be monsters, I am sure," Snowfire told him, craning his head around to smile at the boy with encouragement. "But I think that the monsters you speak of were all created later-and I am coming to that. One of these Great Mages was very evil, and he made war on the rest. In the end, there was only one left to oppose him. That one invented a kind of weapon that was so terrible that he swore he would only use it if he himself were dying. He made two of these-and when the time came that he was, indeed, dying, killed by a slow poison delivered by an assassin loyal to the evil mage, he sent one into the hands of the evil mage himself, and triggered the other in his own place."
"Why?" Darian asked. Snowfire suppressed a smile at that oldest of childrens' questions.
"Because," he said patiently, "the way that this weapon worked was to release all of the magic contained within every object within a certain area. It released all of the magic in the good mage's Tower, at the same time as the other released all of the magic in the evil mage's stronghold. Now, think for a moment about how powerful these two men were, and think how much magic must have been released. Why, in the case of the good mage, his very Tower had been built with and relied upon thousands of magic devices. Then think what must have been contained in that Tower, and around it."
The boy pondered that for a moment, then shuddered convulsively. "That-must have been big. And awful," he said, in a subdued voice. "Worse than a forest fire."
"Much worse," Snowfire assured him. "Where the good mage once lived is now the Dhorisha Plains; where the evil one lived is now Lake Evendim; since both those places were strongholds among hills, that should give you an idea how dreadful it was. I assure you, nothing that was caught inside where the bounds of the Plains and the Lake are now survived. That Cataclysm completely reshaped the world, it was so powerful. And the effects of two of the weapons being triggered simultaneously were worse and more complicated than the good mage had ever dreamed possible. Having two of them go off created the first mage-storms, and those, in their turn, created the Pelagir Hills and the Pelagiris Forest."
"Huh." The boy digested that. "I thought they-just were. I thought the Forest had always been like that."
"They were created by the cataclysm and the mage-storms that followed," Snowfire replied. "And it was longer ago than I think you would dream possible, and the Pelagirs extended far out beyond what is now Valdemar. Now, the Tayledras were given a duty, and that was to set things to rights in the Pelagirs, and in return were given the secrets of how to control and confine very powerful magic. And the odd thing is that we were very nearly done with that task, when the mage-storms returned, and they returned because not only did they reshape the world, they made an echo of themselves back across time, exactly like the waves of a stone tossed into a quiet pool will reach the shore and reflect back again." He paused. "Do you see what I am saying?"
Thousands of years of history compressed into a few sentences, but if he is really interested, there are plenty who will teach him the tale in its fullest.
"Not really, altogether," Darian admitted honestly, "but enough so I think I'm following the story right. So the mage-storms we had were the… echoes of the ancient ones? That would be why they made monsters like the first ones did?"
"Exactly," Snowfire said with encouragement in his voice, thinking as he did so, that this was a good thing to be talking of, for it gave the boy something to engross his mind. Snowfire had a growing suspicion that the barbarians had attacked his home, and that he was the only one to escape, if not indeed the only one to survive. He would figure that out as soon as he had time to think about the attack at all, and he would need to grieve eventually, but it would be better if he did so in a safe place.
For now, I will keep his mind on the strange Hawkbrother, so that he does not think too much about what has happened to him. I cannot afford to cope with a hysterical child right now.
"The new Storms were bad in effect, but worse in potential," he continued. "And they were building up to a second Cataclysm, because they were a reflection of the originals, which was why they grew stronger instead of weaker. We are not precisely certain what that new Cataclysm would have done, but several folk determined to prevent it, and succeeded."
"That would be Herald-Mage Elspeth, Adept Darkwind, and Adept Firesong, right?" the boy asked, as if he had suddenly made a connection for himself.
"Yes! Yes, and some others as well." Not all of them human, or even by common standards, alive, he thought with a little amusement. But he can learn that for himself later. No point in piling strangeness upon strangeness. I am impressed, that he would know those names. "I must continue to shorten the story a great deal more, but if you wish to know all of it, you have only to ask. I will say only now that they did prevent it, they did stop the Storms and have made it so that they will not reecho at some later time, and that the result of this was to change all the magic as we knew it."
"They-broke it, didn't they?" the boy responded, surprising him. "They broke magic like breaking a plate, so it shattered into pieces."
"In a sense." He tried to think of another water analogy. "If you could imagine magic as all the streams, and rivers, and lakes in the world, and suddenly all the water has been sucked out of them, and has rained down evenly everywhere. You could walk on what used to be the bottom of a lake that would have drowned you, just after it happens, or you can divert the rainwater to a new place you want filled, but the rain continues to fall. That is what has happened, and that is one of the two things that brings us here at this time. We are cutting new rivers, if you will, and making new lakes. And we are once again putting things to rights, getting rid of the Changebeasts that the Storms created."
"And when you're done-magic will be where you want i
t to be, and work the way you want it to, won't it?" the boy asked shrewdly. "That's what you get out of it. Your special magic will work again."
Such an unexpectedly clever observation startled a laugh out of Snowfire. "I must admit," he replied, with reluctant admiration, "you are quite correct. Not that this is a secret, you understand. And not that this means that no other mages will be able to use their powers. Things will simply work the way that everyone was used to them working, and everyone who has the ability will be able to use them as of old. Except, some people theorize, more efficiently."
The horse had slowed to a brisk walk, but Snowfire could tell that it was tired, and its pace was quick enough to suit him. He let it set its own speed without correcting it, poor thing. It was probably used to being ridden to within a breath of foundering, and a little decent treatment would work wonders with it.
"So why are you doing this-the Hawkbrothers, I mean," Darian asked. "Couldn't anybody do this-like the Herald-Mages or the Fireflower mages or something?"
"They could," Snowfire admitted. "And in some places, they probably are. We are doing it here because we know how, because there are very few Herald-Mages and even fewer who are at all powerful enough to do these things, and because there are also Changebeasts and other Changes in these same areas that need attending to. So we are paid by you, our allies of Valdemar, to do work that we are used to doing, and we are serving our own purposes at the same time. We, in our turn, are getting much-needed goods and foodstuffs for our people for our payment, so we are well content."
No point in explaining too much more. That there were still Vales was something of a miracle, and was due entirely to the superhuman efforts of Tayledras mages to shield their Heart-stones during those final Storms. But without the ley-lines to feed the Heartstones, there was much less power coming in than going out, and the Tayledras back in the Vales were having to be very conservative, even frugal, about what they did and did not do with the power contained in the Stones.
Lackey, Mercedes - Mage Storms 04 - Darian's Tale 01 - Owlflight.doc Page 12
