Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight

by Mercedes Lackey

  Which means no adult warriors of Blood Bear, period. Only the women and children. Wolverine will throw them out as soon as the fighting’s over. Skies above—I’m actually witnessing the final death of the entire clan that attacked Errold’s Grove.

  Wolverine wouldn’t raise a finger to help Raven, though. Their code of conduct didn’t extend that far.

  Another man fell, and Keisha dashed out to drag him into safety. This time her treatment took even less time; a simple slash wound, shallow, with no arrow to extract. In a few moments he was back in his place, boar-spear in both hands, punishing the man who’d managed to reach him with savage thrusts of the spear.

  One of the fighters in the rear of the Blood Bear mob pulled himself back and out of the fight; it was this movement against the flow of battle that caught her attention.

  The fighter, who by his elaborately decorated, heavy armor, was someone of high rank, whirled to face the combat between Darian and the Shaman. He grabbed a discarded bow from the ground, took an arrow from the quiver still attached to his belt, and took aim at Darian’s back.

  Keisha screamed, but her cry was lost in the general outcry. Her heart convulsed painfully, as she cried out a warning no one would ever hear—

  But someone did.

  A huge, white shape streaked from the far right of the lines, launched into the air, and sailed over the barricade with the grace of a swan in flight. It was Karles, and Shandi clung to his back, her mouth set in a taut line, her never-used sword in hand.

  Just as the warrior loosed his arrow, Karles reached him; Shandi’s sword licked out and, impossibly, deflected the arrow from its deadly flight.

  Their momentum carried them on past; the warrior put a second arrow to his bow, cursing loudly in his own tongue. But now, Shandi was not the only one who knew what he was trying to do.

  An ear-piercing shriek from above startled everyone into looking up. Kel had been voicing his war cries before this, but never anything like the one he produced when he realized who the bowman’s target was.

  Kel dove down out of the sky with terrifying speed, shallowing his arc the faster he went and the quicker he approached the ground, fore-talons outstretched. The fighter had only time enough to cringe down, trying (in utter futility) to hide. Kel hit him with more force than a levin-bolt, doubtlessly breaking the warrior’s back in an instant, and pushed him level to the lay of the earth for over five horse-lengths.

  Then Kelvren rose again into the sky, wings laboring, talons set firmly into the fighter’s shoulder and torso. The man screamed shrilly, writhing in what must have been incredible pain, for Kel’s talons had wrapped right around the protective shoulder plates and penetrated the joints between them and the rest of the armor, and the thumb-talon of the other foreclaw was surely right through the stomach. Blood oozed from the wounds, streamed down the armor, and splattered down on the heads of his fellows as Kel lumbered higher and higher into the sky.

  Then he let go.

  Still screaming, the man plummeted toward the ground, hitting it with a crunch that made even Keisha wince. The screaming stopped instantly and there was a moment of terrible silence.

  Kel had dropped the man practically on top of the Wolverine lines. The Wolverine warriors drew back from the mangled body—then, incredibly, turned their backs on it. No one bothered to see if the fighter still breathed, or render him aid in any way.

  The shunning had already begun.

  None of this seemed to give the Blood Bear fighters pause for more than a few moments. A heartbeat after their fellow hit the ground, they were back at the barricade again. If anything, their fury had redoubled.

  But now they had another target besides the Raven fighters behind the barricades.

  A handful of them turned on Shandi and Karles; the Companion reared on his hindquarters, lashing out with fore-hooves, then dropped back to the ground to kick those trying to take him from behind. Shandi laid about her with her sword; together they accounted for three of their assailants, but more turned on them.

  Shandi was screaming, but it was not in fear or pain. She was screaming, “For Valdemar’s honor! For Valdemar’s honor!” again and again, with each slash of the blade.

  Steelmind vaulted the barricade, racing to Shandi’s defense. Hashi and Neta joined him, helping him fight his way through the packed fighters to Shandi’s side. Steelmind wasn’t trying to use any weapons; he seized fighters before they were aware that he wasn’t one of them and physically flung them out of the way, while Neta used her horns and hooves to good effect in clearing the path, and Hashi attacked any pair of legs that wasn’t protected.

  Steelmind got to Shandi with only a minor gash on his head; once there, he pulled his climbing staff from the sheath on his back and began to use it with lethal efficiency. Neta and Hashi made a stand on her opposite side. Together, the three guarded Karles’ rear flanks, allowing Shandi and Karles to keep their attention on the enemy in front of them.

  Steelmind’s staff—a deadly device with a spike on one end and a sharply-pointed hook on the other, with several grab knobs at regular intervals—seemed as light as a straw in the Hawkbrother’s hands. His buzzard, no longer slow or sleepy, joined the battle with a series of heavy stoops, knocking helmets forward to obscure vision, knocking helmets off completely, then returning to lacerate the unprotected heads with his raking talons.

  Kel remained above, kiting on the strong wind, keeping watch over Darian. Meanwhile Shandi, Karles, Hashi, Steelmind, and Neta began working their way back toward their own lines. Kelvren then folded wings in for a moment and dropped to attack again, someone unseen, identified only by a short scream an instant later and the gryphon taking off again with a human arm in his beak.

  With a dry mouth and a pounding heart, Keisha watched the horrifying battle her friends were engaged in, oblivious to the fighting going on immediately around her, her hands clasped tightly under her chin. She was afraid to pray, for who should she pray for? Her sister, or her beloved? Her friends, or her family?

  Please, please, she whispered silently. Keep them all safe....

  Darian wasn’t aware he’d been in danger from outside until an arrow arced high over his head, piercing both walls of the magic circle. The Shaman’s smile warned him that he’d become a target, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off his opponent.

  It hadn’t taken the Shaman long to blast himself free of his earthy prison—but it had taken time and physical energy, and the Shaman’s legs were badly bruised and lacerated from the effort. Darian had those few moments of rest, which the Shaman had spent in labor.

  Now they circled warily; the Shaman staggered, somewhat the worse for wear, and Darian tried to split his attention, using peripheral vision, trying to spot the archer who’d taken that shot at him while keeping the Shaman under his eye as well.

  Suddenly a shrill scream rent the air and stunned everyone on the field into momentary silence. Riding the scream down out of the sky came a bolt of golden-brown power, which hit someone in the melee and rose again, a shrieking bit of man-flesh dangling from his talons. It was Kel—and Darian hadn’t known the gryphon could lift and carry a man off before this. He wanted to gape in astonishment, but didn’t dare. He wouldn’t underestimate this opponent for a moment; the Shaman still had plenty of raw power, and the will to use it.

  But he had weaknesses. He didn’t look for attacks that weren’t purely magical power. He only used visible magic manifestations. And—

  And he’s focusing every attack just on what I do.

  The Shaman’s attention flickered away, as Kel dropped his screaming burden. The man hit the ground with a curiously wet crunch, and the screaming stopped. The Shaman turned his attention back to Darian, his mud-streaked face set in a snarl.

  But not before Darian had managed to snatch up and conceal a rock in the palm of his hand.

  They began to circle again, and Darian sensed the Shaman draining power for another strike. Now I have to put you right where
I want you—

  He circled, feinted back, moved forward again. The Shaman followed his maneuvers with narrowed eyes, suspecting something. Then he glanced to the side, saw the shallow crater where he had blasted himself free, and graced Darian with a grimace of contempt. With exaggerated care, he stepped past it, then Darian felt the quick drop in ley-line power that warned he was about to strike.

  That was when Darian threw the rock at him.

  Startled, expecting it to be a magical attack, the Shaman redirected his power and shattered the poor rock to powder with a single blast. In doing so, he faltered back into the crater he had so contemptuously avoided.

  But Darian’s meddling with the groundwater wasn’t over. As the Shaman stumbled into the crater, he sucked the spring’s water out of the area again; between his efforts and the Shaman’s, that particular piece of ground was on the verge of becoming a sinkhole big enough to swallow a house, and when Darian removed the groundwater, the surface layer of sandstone gave way.

  Instead of swallowing a house, it swallowed the Shaman, who disappeared into the earth with a hoarse cry. Darian fused the stone, using the same technique he had used to create the water channels for the bathing spring at the Vale, and the startled Shaman was buried up to his knees in sifting, crumbling earth while his ankles and feet smoldered.

  Then Darian brought back all the water, and more, dancing back to avoid getting dropped into the sinkhole himself as the earth crumbled around the rapidly growing—and filling—crater.

  Ten heartbeats later, the Shaman’s half of the wall winked out of existence.

  Darian took down his own half, and stood staring into what was now a roughly circular pond of very muddy water, but the only thing that arose from the depths was a few bubbles—then nothing at all.

  He looked up, slowly, to face the Wolverine lines.

  For a long moment, he stared defiantly at the warriors, who stared back at him wearing expressions of incomprehension and dismay. No one moved. He clasped his hands before him in the same gesture he had used at the beginning of the duel, and waited.

  Then one of the men at the far right broke, babbling, and ran, stumbling away as fast as his legs could carry him. That was all that was needed; a heartbeat later, the retreat had become a rout, the brave fighters of Wolverine taking to their heels as fast as they could, even casting off armor and shedding weapons so that they could run faster.

  In a sudden reversal of tactics, the Blood Bear fighters turned from the barricade and flung themselves at the easier target within their midst. Steelmind’s staff moved in a lethal blur, but there were too many around him, fighting to take him down; he went down under a pile of bodies. Shandi wrenched Karles’ head around and forced her Companion back, coming to his rescue; the Companion bit, lashed, and kicked like a demon-horse as Keisha watched in agony, certain she was going to see all three of them die before her eyes.

  Then, just as suddenly, the warriors of Blood Bear broke and ran.

  Keisha didn’t bother to wonder why; as the Raven fighters pushed aside the barricade and poured after them, she followed, heading straight for the place where she had seen Steelmind go down.

  She found him—and Shandi and Karles with him. Shandi was on her knees, clutching the front of his tunic and weeping over him. Keisha shoved her aside without a word, sending her tumbling, and took her place.

  Oh, gods. This is bad, very bad. There were many, many internal injuries; someone had landed a terrible blow to his back, and another to his stomach. He’s bleeding in there and I—She knew with dismay that neither she, nor she and Shandi together had enough power to save him.

  But someone else did.

  She looked up; grabbed Karles’ dangling reins, and pulled his head down to the same level as hers. She looked defiantly into his eyes, and let him know without any words at all that she wasn’t asking for his help—she was ordering him to give it.

  He stared at her blankly for just a moment, then the power came flooding into her in a blue-white torrent.

  If water were to be compared to power and energy, being caught in the midst of Karles’ strength was akin to swimming that flooded river so many weeks ago. But she had swum that river, and she would direct this power now!

  Fiercely, she flung herself into the battle to save Steelmind’s life, just as fiercely as any Raven warrior had fought at the barricade. She transmuted the blue-white beam into the gentler green energies of Healing and the golden ones of strength, and poured both into the shattered shell that was the Hawkbrother. She pieced together bone, mended torn and bleeding veins and arteries, soothed bruised tissues, and reinforced Steelmind’s own faltering strength. She did things she hadn’t even known she could do, galvanized by the unending flow of energy. This was something like the time she had Healed Hywel’s brother—except that this time she was in no danger of losing herself.

  The moment that everything she needed to do was done, and there was nothing more to do except that which only time could accomplish—the power was gone.

  She dropped abruptly out of her Healing trance with a mental thud, and opened her eyes to see Shandi bent over Steelmind, both of them taking turns babbling about how much they loved each other.

  Karles looked at her, then at Shandi, and snorted. Keisha got slowly to her feet, wobbling a little, feeling more than a bit light-headed. Karles hadn’t given her a single iota of power more than he’d had to, but somehow she didn’t resent that.

  After all, Companions are supposed to help us with problems, not solve them for us. Karles looked up again just as she thought that—and nodded his gore-spattered, beautiful head, winking.

  Darian walked slowly toward what was left of the barricades, which were now being pulled apart by industrious women. The Raven warriors were on the heels of Wolverine and Blood Bear, making certain that they took themselves over the pass, the news of their defeat with them. More women, boys, and a few old men followed their own fighters, each carrying leather bags or small fishing nets—harvesting the discarded arms and armor. They were no fools; they could alter the style and fit of what was once Wolverine’s, and make it Raven’s.

  He saw Karles first—then Shandi, Keisha, and Steelmind. For one horrible moment, he feared the worst.

  Then Shandi helped Steelmind to his feet; she draped one of his arms over Karles’ back, and the other over her own shoulder, then began walking him back toward the village. Darian heaved a sigh of relief.

  Keisha looked up as a shadow went across them, to see Kelvren wing heavily overhead, returning from overseeing the Wolverine warriors’ retreat. His landing was imperfect and he nearly buckled; it was not too hard to see why as his left side became visible. There was a deep gash from the top of his beak, through the cere, and a nick in his eyelid, clearly from the same blow. His nares freely bled distinctively dark red blood which flowed to mix with the lighter sticky red of his foes’, most of which had dried with loose feathers, dirt, twigs and other debris glued into it. The broken ends of two arrows showed from the blood-matted feathers in the leading edge of his left wing, and in his left thigh. As he landed, clearly in terrible pain, he raised his head high and bellowed, “Arrre therrre any morrre left? Brrring them on!”

  Keisha and Darian cried out, in unison, “Kelvren!” and quick-walked—since they had little energy left for running—to the wounded gryphon.

  “Arrre therrre any morrre left to fight?” Kelvren demanded, eyes pinning, his gaze darting right and left. Darian grimaced, seeing what had happened to his good friend. “No more left, Kel. We won. They’re all gone now.”

  Kelvren gazed off in the direction Wolverine had fled and then slumped down onto his hindquarters, leaning right, and finally collapsing onto his side without even folding his wings. “Hurrrrhhh—then I will rrressst. Darrrian, Ssshin‘a’in arrre rrright—being conssspicuousss attrractsss arrrowsss.”

  Swaying a little, Keisha turned to Darian, with both hands outstretched. They fell into each other’s embrace, and that
was all he needed or thought about for a brief, but blissful moment, broken only by Keisha murmuring in his ear.

  His heart lofted skyward with joy, and his heartbeat in his ears sounded like wingbeats.

  They had made it through every ordeal, despite fatigue, pain, and fear. Together.

  Keisha was in an awkward position, in quite a few ways. Physically, she had one foot under Kelvren’s head, and her other leg across his neck, snugged around the nape and all but unseen underneath the mass of feathers. Kelvren himself was flat on his belly, with Darian straddling his back, keeping his wings safely folded by sitting on them. The gryphon had his beak clamped around a bedroll, and flinched every time she pierced his cere with the needle. Kuari, feeling drowsy, was perched atop a chair back nearby.

  “I know you don’t like this, Kel, but I have to get this gash stitched up,” Keisha softly said, and she hoped she actually sounded as reassuring as she was trying to. “The powder is dulling the pain as much as it will, the rest you just have to cope with. Bite down on the bedroll instead of me, and we’ll be through with this in just a little while, all right?”

  It wasn’t just her physical position that made her feel awkward and strained right now, though. They were also in the middle of a discussion with Darian’s parents, who hovered off to the side and projected nervous tension like a thunderstorm sent out lightning.

  “Father, you know that I love you, but I am a Knight of Valdemar now and an Elder of my Vale. I do like it here, I truly do—but I cannot stay here and be a part of Raven. There are things happening back home that I have to tend to.”

  Daralie nodded slowly, her expression very neutral. “And that does say it all, doesn’t it—back home. There, in Valdemar, and at your Vale. We always taught you from an early age that home is a place in your heart, Darian. Sometimes the place in your heart can also be represented by a place in the world. If it is where you have to be, then you have to be there.”