Owlflight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “What is it, little brother?” Snowfire asked. “Do you wish to change the plan for tonight?”

  “No!” Darian exclaimed. “No—I mean, I—I am afraid. I’m scared, but I don’t want to back out or anything. I just—I just need something to do.”

  Snowfire understood only too well the need to have “something to do” before a planned engagement, but he was at a loss to think of anything. Finally he had an inspiration. “Please—practice those exercises in magic I have shown you,” he said earnestly, “and try to think of ways in which they could be used tonight. We will need every weapon at our disposal; remember what I said about the way that a small application of magic can be used to a great effect.”

  Darian grimaced a little, but nodded and trailed off to find a quiet place in which to practice.

  Hweel, Hweel’s mate Huur, and their young fledgling watched him move off with unblinking gazes. Then Huur yawned hugely, her youngster did the same a moment later, and both of them shut their eyes and hunched their heads down to sleep. They had arrived last night, and were probably exhausted. They had certainly eaten hugely of the bounty that an excited Hweel had provided for them.

  Hweel practically radiated contentment as he sat beside his mate and their bumbling youngster. Huur was considerably larger than Hweel, as was usually the case with birds of prey, and Snowfire paused to consider whether he really wanted Huur to bond with him. After all, Hweel was quite a burden; Huur would be worse.

  Well, it wasn’t within his power to decide one way or another. It was the bird’s decision, not his. And meanwhile, Hweel was overjoyed to have her beside him and that was no bad thing.

  Snowfire had his own ritual of preparation to begin. He had things timed to a nicety, so that his hours would be occupied and his mind would not be idle to make up scenarios of disaster.

  First, he ran through his own magic practice, though he didn’t have to think of ways in which small magics would be useful in tonight’s raid, for he had plenty of experience along those lines. All the while he practiced, he sat across from Daystorm, with one ear cocked in case she said anything about activity in the village. He put himself through his paces, pushing to speed up the time it took for him to work a particular piece of magic, by even a fraction of a breath. That was always what he worked toward; it would be useless to try for more power, for he had reached the limits of his ability there—but it was always possible to try for more speed.

  By the time he was done, it was about noon; he left Daystorm’s side just long enough to collect food for himself, Daystorm, and Starfall. He left Starfall’s ration just outside the containment shield, though Starfall was so deep in concentration that the Adept never noticed he was there. That was all right; the food was covered and would keep, and Starfall’s bird would keep pests from carrying it off. Then he took Daystorm’s ration to her, and the scout accepted it with thanks.

  “There’s nothing unusual going on at all,” she said, tearing off a strip of dried meat with her strong, white teeth. She looked very much like a fox when she did that, and Snowfire wondered if she knew it. “The only thing going on is that the mounted fighters are all practicing, mostly on each other. I think they’re pleased that the foot soldiers are gone; it gives them more space to practice in.”

  “That’s probably true,” he agreed, and grinned. “Let’s hope they forget it’s practice and take out a few of their own.”

  She laughed, and he turned his attention to his bondbird. :How close are they to the trap?: he asked Hweel, who was in contact with all of the bondbirds.

  :Close,: Hweel told him, and showed him what Rain-wind’s falcon saw from high above, so high that the men below her would not see even a speck in the sky overhead. It would not be long now until the first of the troops reached the undermined section of bluff.

  “They’re getting close,” he said aloud to Daystorm. “Keep a close eye on the Lutter house; if this mage has any way of communicating with the other troops, we’ll find out about it soon.”

  He held to the vision of the river road as seen through the eyes of the circling falcon, watching as the antlike, foreshortened figures crept along at a maddeningly slow pace. The falcon knew exactly where the fall was to take place, and centered her circle on that part of the bluff. There was no way to communicate with Sunstone, but part of Snowfire ached with tension, hoping he would not drop the rockfall too soon. The tiny figures crawled onward, completely unaware of what waited for them. Half of them were past the bluff now, with most of the rest beneath the area where the rock would come down. Most of the rest—

  Not yet, Sunstone, not yet. Let them pass—

  Now they were either past the fall area, or within it, but there was always the chance that the rock would not fall as they thought, letting one or two escape.

  Not yet, not yet—

  There! The last of them was past the halfway point!

  A little puff of dust at the base of the bluff was all the warning Snowfire had; Sunstone had released the fall.

  It began slowly, as these things always did; a trickle of rock from the top, a rumbling sound, then the first signs of the slide. Most of the enemy fighters reacted immediately; they looked up, and ran downriver, away from the village. Three hesitated, started to run toward the village as Snowfire bit off a curse. Suddenly, as a few rocks hit the trail in front of them, they paused, and reversed themselves. But that hesitation was fatal; in the next instant, they were buried beneath a cascade of dirt and rock that ran out into the river. A huge cloud of dust rose and obscured everything, even for a falcon’s sharp eyes, and Snowfire waited impatiently for it to clear.

  Finally the strong breeze from upriver cleared it away, and he saw that there would be no passage back across that fall for anyone. They had managed to drop far more than he had estimated across the roadway; until it all settled, it would be insane to try and climb it. The enemy fighters milled around the edge, as if wondering whether they should make some attempt to rescue their three companions. Evidently they decided against it, or their leaders did, for after a bit more confused meandering, they formed back up into ranks, and moved out along the river again.

  Snowfire broke contact with the falcon with a feeling of fierce pleasure. “The first stage worked perfectly!” he told Daystorm. “Any sign from the mage that he knows what happened?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing at all out of the ordinary,” she reported. “You ought to check with Starfall, though. He might have noticed something.”

  That was an excellent idea, and he was not at all loath to follow it. He brushed the dust off his trews and loped up the trail to Starfall’s ekele, hoping that the Adept was not too lost in his work to speak to him.

  As it happened, Starfall was just finishing the last of his rations, and greeted Snowfire with a wave of his hand. “We’ve dropped the bluff; it worked perfectly, and they lost three in the rockfall,” Snowfire reported. “Have you noticed anything from the mage?”

  “Only that he’s trying harder than before to take control of the lines and nodes from me,” Starfall replied. “He’s getting aggressive; I think he’s getting extra energy from his fighters. Are they doing anything unusual?”

  “Only the mounted ones are left; Daystorm says they’re practicing against each other, and that’s unusual, because there isn’t a lot of room for them to practice ordinarily.” Snowfire cocked his head to the side. “From what I saw, the mounted fighters are the least disciplined. Would that be enough to generate extra energy for him?”

  “Probably; it isn’t a lot, but these days, when there isn’t a lot of energy to be had, a mage would grasp at anything.” Starfall blinked, and rubbed his eyes. “At least he isn’t practicing blood-sacrifice.”

  “I’ll say this much for the barbarians; so far as I know, they don’t tend to stoop to that. They’ll use the power generated by slaughter on a battlefield, but they won’t practice blood-sacrifice. Or at least, not of humans.” He grimaced. “Let’s hope this lot r
uns true to form.”

  “Dar’ian would never forgive us if anything like that happened,” Starfall muttered, and shook his head. “Well, he’s due for another try, and I need to be on guard; keep me informed if you can.”

  Starfall raised the containment shield again, and sank back into his trance. Snowfire left him with his falcon standing watch and returned to Daystorm.

  “I think you can drop the close watch on the village,” he told her. “Starfall says the mage hasn’t reacted to what we did at all.”

  She sighed with relief. “Oh, good. If I don’t get myself stretched out, I won’t be any use for the raid. I’ll leave the hooligans in place; I don’t need them here, and they’ll call me if something catches their attention.”

  “Good plan,” he said approvingly, and went to check on the others.

  Wintersky had taken charge of building their packs; each of them would carry an identical load of climbing staff, short bow, arrows, and throwing darts. The idea was not to get into combat, if they could avoid it; the idea was to free the slaves and guard their backtrail. Snowfire wished he had some other sort of magic than the type he had; it would have been so useful to be able to turn water into drugged brandywine and arrange for the remaining barbarians to find it!

  Seventeen Tayledras and one adopted boy would be the whole of their army; Nightwind and Kel would remain behind to guard Starfall, with five dyheli and three of the most timid of the hertasi. Wintersky had finished seven of the packs, with ten more to go; he was checking each and every weapon with utmost care as he packed it, and there was a small pile of rejected arrows beside him. Snowfire didn’t interrupt; he had the job well in hand.

  Seventeen against how many? We must be mad. Yet if they could just avoid rousing anything or anyone, the odds of pulling this off were good. Or at least, they weren’t insurmountable.

  Time to check on someone whose optimism more than equals my pessimism. He left Wintersky and took the path that led to the pools and Kelvren.

  The only quiet place to practice was beside the bathing pools, and Darian was more than tired of repeating his tiny magics over and over when Kelvren provided a welcome interruption.

  “What passsesss, brrrancherrr?” the gryphon called, as he flew low over the pool, craning his neck to the side to keep his eyes on Darian. When Darian waved at him, the gryphon executed a slow and graceful gliding turn, then backwinged to a perfect one-claw landing on the rock edge of the pool beside Darian. Darian had to duck his head and shield his eyes against the dust storm kicked up by the gryphon’s wingbeats, but he grinned a greeting anyway.

  “Nothing much passes except time, and that’s passing too slowly!” he complained, as the gryphon settled himself with a couple of crisp wing-flicks. He noticed that Kel had a bundle in his right front talon, which he placed on the ground behind the rocks, just out of sight. “I want to do something, not just sit here!”

  “I agrrree,” Kel responded readily. “But I happen to have sssomething you can do. Do you sssuppossse you could give me a hand with grrrrooming? Nightwind isss bussy prreparring herrr weaponsss, the herrrtasssi arrre all gone orrrr busssy, and I am no grrryfalcon, to have handsss that hold toolsss well.”

  Help Kelvren? In a heartbeat! Darian was absolutely thrilled to be asked, and jumped to his feet, prepared to do anything that Kel requested. “Do I need to get anything special?” he asked anxiously. “The feather-oil or anything?”

  “Not featherrr-oilsss,” the gryphon replied, “I have everrrything we’ll need. Thisss will be battle preparrrationsss.”

  With his foreclaw the gryphon picked up the bag which he put down in front of Darian. He opened it and spread out the contents on the ground. It contained the usual brushes and combs, but also held files, a thin and flexible chest protector that was clearly made to fit over the chestplate on Kel’s harness, and a set of sharp metal claw-sheaths. “Thessse fit overrr the talonssss,” Kel said, indicating the metal sheaths. “You’ll have to file my talonsss to fit; they arrre a bit longerrr than they werrre when I wasss fitted with thessse.”

  Darian picked up the set of three files and the right-side set of sheaths and went to work, as Kel advised and corrected what he was doing. He found that if he sat just under the gryphon’s chin with his back against Kel’s chest, they were both able to see what was going on clearly and were more comfortable. It was very pleasant, sitting there with his back against the feathery warmth of his friend, working diligently with the files on the shining black talons. He could almost forget why they were making these preparations. He couldn’t help thinking what the other boys of Errold’s Grove would say if they saw what he was doing now. Wouldn’t their eyes just pop! They wouldn’t believe what they were seeing! Imagine, me, helping take care of a real, live gryphon! Why, next thing, I’ll be helping trap a snow-drake or something.

  The talon-sheaths fit over each claw and were held in place with a glovelike web of fine, strong leather straps. The workmanship was really ingenious, and the articulation was perfect. The sheaths didn’t really extend the length of the talons all that much, so Kel would still be able to walk, land, and pick things up. When Darian finished fitting the whole contraption to Kel’s right leg, the gryphon had what was effectively a set of four single-edged knives on the end of his leg. Not only did each sheath taper to a point as sharp as a needle, but the first third of each had a real sharpened edge for slashing.

  Kel flexed his foot, and looked at it with a mixture of pride and chagrin, his huge golden eyes blinking slowly as he admired the shining metal now covering each talon. “Harrrd to walk in, thessse, becaussse of all the damage. You don’t want me anywherrre nearrr a tent, forrr insssstancsse. Sssstill. They prrrotect my rrreal talonsss; metal won’t brrreak the way a talon can. And obviousssly, a weapon can’t chop one off.”

  Darian nodded soberly, and set to work on the left-side set. I’d hate to see how awful it would be if a talon did get chopped off. He could bleed to death! Much better to have the sheaths, even if they were a bit awkward to wear. When he finished, Kelvren reared up on his hindquarters and made a few experimental slashes in the air. “Perrrfect!” he said with a gleeful sparkle in his eyes. “You may be my trrrondi’irrrn any time!”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Darian replied, blushing with awkward pleasure. “I don’t know a fraction of what Nightwind knows, and anyway, any of the hertasi could have helped you just as well. Let’s get this chest thing on you, all right?”

  “Sssurrrely,” Kel agreed, dropping back down to all fours. “It goesss onto the harnessss—ssssee the bucklesss? Then the neckpiecssse wrrrapsss arrrround the thrrroat.”

  The protective armor would never withstand the blows of a sword or ax, but it would protect against arrows; it was made of overlapping articulated plates of a light, strong metal totally unfamiliar to Darian, backed with a thin leather that was the toughest such substance Darian had ever seen. Unlike the talons, which were a satin finished, highly-polished silver, the chest protector was a matte black and would not betray Kel by reflecting light. The whole thing didn’t even weigh as much as a single ordinary breastplate for a smallish human—but then, it would have to be light if Kel was going to fly while wearing it.

  When Darian finished buckling it onto the harness, Kel gave himself a tremendous shake to settle it, and had him tighten two or three straps, then shook himself again.

  “Urrrr,” he said, clicking his beak meditatively. “Not the mossst comforrrtable thing to wearrr. But then, I have hearrrd the human Sssilverrrsss sssay the sssame of theirrr arrrmorrr.”

  “It could be worse, you could have a helmet and a stomach plate and things,” Darian pointed out. Kel shook his head comically.

  “I think not!” the gryphon exclaimed. “I would not be able to walk, much lessss fly! Thisss isss bad enough, and I would not wearrr it had Nightwind not insssisssted. I fearrr it looksss rrridiculousss.”

  “Well, you look tremendously warlike to me,” Darian told him, steppin
g back to admire him from a little distance. “Very impressive. Terrifying, in fact.”

  “Oh, do I?” Kel exclaimed, ingenuously pleased. “Terrrifying? Trrruly?”

  “Truly,” Darian told him. “If I were the enemy, I’d take one look at you and run, I wouldn’t stick around to find out what you could do to me.”

  And the gryphon did make a daunting sight, with the metal breastplate and neck guard forming what appeared to be a seamless black shell over his chest and neck, one claw upraised, and the metal talons gleaming wickedly in the sun. It was no exaggeration to say that Kel would probably have frightened any of the Errold’s Grove militia members into scuttling back to the village, metaphorical tail between his legs.

  But would he have the same effect on the barbarians? The plain truth was, virtually anything the militia thought of as a “monster” had sent them scuttling back to the safety of the village. What did he know about fighting? Only what he’d heard and read in books.

  I just hope we never find out, Darian thought, keeping his doubts to himself. I’d rather not know than have those barbarians turn up here.

  “I think if I was Starfall, I would feel completely secure with you on watch,” he said aloud. “I wouldn’t need anybody else.”

  “Rrreally?” Kel arched his neck, and his eyes pinned with excitement. “You arrre too kind. I am only a verrry juniorrr Sssilverrr.”

  “I agree with him,” Nightwind said, emerging from the shadows of the path. “You look quite formidable, Kel. Starfall will feel quite secure with you on guard, and rightly so. You’re going to do a fine job.”

  Kel’s neck arched a little more, and he practically purred. “Thank you,” he said. “I hope yourrr confidencssse is jussstified.”

  Nightwind smiled. “I’m a trondi’irn, remember? I’ve served quite a few gryphons in the past. I have no doubt of it.”