Owlflight

by Mercedes Lackey

  In Darian’s opinion, Nightwind herself looked just as formidable as the gryphon; she had a breastplate made much like his, with gauntlets to match, a light helm, and a bow that Darian would never dream of being able to string, much less draw. He couldn’t see the business-end of the arrows she carried in a quiver at her belt, but he had no doubt that they were more of the nasty, man-killing type that the Tayledras were using tonight.

  Her hair had been braided back tightly into a no-nonsense knot at the nape of her neck, and there wasn’t a single extraneous bead or feather on her spare, uniformlike costume. Like Kel, her breastplate had a badge embossed on it, and he peered at it curiously.

  She noted where his eyes went, and smiled. “This is the badge of the Silver Gryphons,” she told him, the fingers of one hand lightly caressing the edge of the emblem. “Kel and I are both Silvers, the only ones in the group. I don’t think they quite realize yet what that means.”

  “Why isn’t anyone else?” he asked.

  She chuckled. “Because we are the only two Kaled’a’in here,” she told him. “We aren’t Tayledras at all—or rather, the Tayledras used to be Kaled’a’in, but—”

  The gryphon waved a claw, interrupting her. “You arrre confusssing him,” Kel chided. “Darrr’ian, it isss sssimple. Long ago therrre wasss one people, the Kaled’a’in. When the Cataclyssssm wasss overrr, that people wasss sssunderrred. The Kaled’a’in Clan k’Lessshya wasss farrr separrrated frrrom the otherrrsss, and thossse within it did not even know if the rrresst had ssssurrrvived, sssso they went to sssaferrr landsss, wessst and sssouth, and became the allliesss of the Black Kingsss. Forrr the otherrrr Clansss it was differrrent. Theirrr homelandsss werrre dessstrrroyed, ssso they found when they went to look. The otherrrsss quarrrelled overrr the ussse of magic—thossse who wanted to continue the ussse of it became the Tayledrrrasss, and thossse who wissshed to ssshun it became the Sssshin’a’in.”

  “But—because your people weren’t fighting over whether or not to use magic, you stayed Kaled’a’in?” Darian asked, scratching his head. “But if your people went so far away, why are you here?”

  “Because we decided that the moment was right to come back north and see what time had made of the lands we left,” Nightwind told him, and smiled ruefully. “Little did we guess that we’d end up being here at the beginning of another Cataclysm! At least some of us managed to prevent this one, anyway. Kel’s version is a very abbreviated one, and at some point, you’ll have to hear the whole story.”

  “Prrrobably frrrom one of the kyrrree hissstorrry-keeperrrs,” Kel said, meditatively examining his steel-sheathed talons. “Becaussse asss sssoon asss they learrrn you do not know the tale, you will have no choicsse but to hearrr it!”

  Nightwind burst out laughing as if Kel had said something terribly funny. Darian couldn’t make out just what the joke was, but laughed politely anyway.

  “Well, the point is that only the Kaled’a’in have the Silver Gryphons,” Nightwind continued, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “They serve a lot of the same functions that your Heralds do; peacekeepers, border guards, and as the Kaled’a’in militia. Some day I’ll tell you why things turned out that way, but the fact is that of all the people on this expedition, Kel and I are the only true warriors. Mind you, some of the others, Snowfire in particular, have seen combat—but we’re the only ones actually trained as warriors.” One corner of her mouth quirked in an ironic smile. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think Snowfire quite realizes that about me. He still thinks I’m just an Empath and Kel’s attendant. We haven’t had to get our battle gear out before this.”

  “Not that it matterrrsss,” Kel added. “Thisss isss what we prrrrobably would have volunteerrred forrr if he hadn’t asssked usss. I am a bit larrrge to hide in a waterrrr-courrrse.”

  “And we are the best sort of guards he could have on Starfall,” Nightwind finished. “That’s one of the things we’re trained for; there is always a set of gryphons acting as bodyguards to our chief ally among the Black Kings.”

  But a new set of dazzling possibilities had opened up to Darian. “Could I be a Silver some day?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Now that is an interesting thought,” Nightwind replied, looking at him with surprise. “I never considered that possibility. Yes, I suppose you could; you’re far too young right now, but once you’re at the age where we accept candidates, you could train as a Silver, if you still want to be one.”

  “Being a mage would be an advantage,” Kel added, his eartufts pricked forward with interest. “Magessss in the Sssilverrsss learrrn combat-magicsss; verrry ssspecializssed ssstuff. It would mean anotherrr ssseverrral yearrrs of ssschooling.”

  Now that was a daunting thought. More training? But it might be worth it.

  “You certainly don’t have to make up your mind right now,” Nightwind said, before he could even begin to consider the ramifications of the offer. “Let’s get through this, then finish up this expedition. By the time we get back to Tayledras territory, you’ll have a better idea of what you want to do. And if that includes joining the Silvers, Kel and I will see that you get a chance to apply and train.”

  He stammered his thanks, and helped Nightwind pack up the grooming utensils, aware in a dazzled fashion that he had gone in the past few days from having no choice in his future life to having a bewildering array of choices.

  He did not remain dazzled for long. First we have to get through this. Then I have to make sure that no one in Errold’s Grove thinks he still has any claims on me. Then—then I have to learn how to be a mage and a Hawkbrother. The enormity of the tasks still ahead of him sobered him quickly.

  He glanced up at the sun, and judged that someone would probably come looking for him shortly. “I ought to go find Snowfire,” he began.

  “Snowfire has already found you,” Nightwind chuckled, and pointed over his shoulder. He turned and saw the senior scout coming out into the sunlight by the side of the pool.

  The Hawkbrother’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Kel and Nightwind, though his lips curved in a slow smile. “Welladay!” he said, with appreciation in his voice. “I find all three of the folk I needed to gather, and all in one spot. Very efficient.”

  “Pure coincidence,” Nightwind pointed out. “But as you can see, we are ready to take our posts.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Snowfire told her, with a little salute. “Unless you can think of anything you need to know, I’ll leave you to handle the business of guarding Starfall as you see fit.”

  Darian had the feeling that Snowfire had intended to give Kel and Nightwind some careful instructions, and on being confronted by a pair of properly equipped professionals, had quickly revised his plans.

  “Thank you for your confidence, Snowfire,” Nightwind said, without a hint of her usual irony. “I hope we will prove worthy of it. Now, I take it that you have come to fetch your guide?”

  “I have,” he said, and turned his attention to Darian. “I hope you are ready, little brother, because we need to set off soon if we are to be in place after dark.”

  Darian nodded, unable to trust his voice, for he knew that the fear rising within him would make it shake. Even if he wasn’t brave, he didn’t want Snowfire to guess. I have to go through with this. I let Justyn down; I’m not going to do that to Snowfire.

  “Come, then,” the Hawkbrother said. “Nightwind, Kelvren, wind to thy wings.”

  “Good hunting,” Kel said, as Nightwind sketched a salute to both of them, with a sly wink to Darian. That made him feel a little better; he managed to get out a proper farewell and followed in Snowfire’s wake to where the rest of the Hawkbrothers were gathered. His heart was in his mouth, and he felt queasy, but what needed to be done would be done.

  For the most part, the journey was a blur to Darian; the Hawkbrothers set a pace he would never have been able to match if he had not been riding the horse stolen from the barbarians. He could not for a moment imagine
how they managed to keep up that steady lope for furlong after furlong. With Hweel and Huur providing “eyes ahead,” they kept up the grueling trek long after sunset, and finally came to a halt somewhere in the deep woods after full darkness fell.

  “Dar’ian, you must get off the horse now,” whispered Wintersky, who had been holding the beast by a lead rope to prevent it from bolting off the way it had the last time. “We will turn the beast loose here, for we are now going down to the river.”

  Darian dismounted stiffly; the horse’s trot had not been a comfortable gait, especially not for someone who never had been much of a rider. Wintersky untied the rope from the horse’s bridle, and used it to flick the beast on the flank. With an indignant squeal, it trotted off into the darkness, leaving them all standing beside one of the enormous trees. Beneath the whisper of wind in the leaves above, Darian heard the sound of the river; it couldn’t be too far off, then. They were very near their goal, the end of the aqueduct that carried water to the village.

  “Come,” Snowfire whispered; somehow he had replaced Wintersky at Darian’s side. “Do not fear to keep up; we must go slowly now, avoiding the sentries.”

  As gruelingly swift as the pace had been before, it was now just as agonizingly slow. The Hawkbrothers moved from cover to cover, slipping in and out of the shadows like silent shadows themselves, and far quieter than Darian was. Darian winced every time he stepped on a rock or a twig, for the sounds he made sounded as loud as shouts in the relative peace of the Forest.

  But there were other things making sounds out here; he was amazed to realize how loud deer were, as they came across a pair of does and a fawn, feeding. He’d always thought that deer moved silently, but they tramped through the sparse underbrush as noisily as he.

  At last they reached the river itself, with no signs of sentries that Darian could see. But then, what did he know? Hweel, Huur, and Snowfire were probably the only ones who would know where sentries were, and the point was to avoid them.

  The brush along the rocky riverbank was much thicker than under the heavy shade of the great trees; they had more cover to hide in, but there were more branches to snap, leaves to rustle, and rocks to trip over. Wintersky found a game trail that wound in and out of the bushes, often requiring that they go on all fours to keep their heads below the covering undergrowth; Darian discovered that he had his hands and mind full just following in his wake without making too terrible a noise. The river here did not make enough sound to mask their passage; though swift and deep, there were no rocks or deep bends to cause even a ripple along its tranquil surface. A chilling, damp breeze rose from its surface, penetrating Darian’s clothing.

  It seemed to Darian that they had been moving so long that it must surely be dawn, and yet by the stars it could not possibly have been much later than midnight when he felt Snowfire stop and crouch under the shadow of a bush. He stopped as well, then felt Snowfire’s hand reach back and tug at his shoulder. Obedient to the signal, he crept forward to peer out at whatever it was that Snowfire was looking at.

  “Is this the place?” the scout breathed into his ear. He squinted, and peered out into the darkness, straining his ears as well as his eyes when the dark bulk ahead of him failed to resolve into anything he recognized.

  It was his ears that told him they had reached their goal; a rhythmic splashing, the creaking of wet wood, the steady trickle of water. They had reached the aqueduct, and the water wheel that fed it.

  He put his mouth to Snowfire’s ear. “This is the place,” he whispered.

  Snowfire nodded, and motioned to him to be silent. He froze where he was, and tried to ignore the three or four insects that decided to negotiate the new piece of territory—his legs—that had suddenly appeared in front of them. He was just glad that Snowfire had given him a handful of aromatic herbs to rub all over himself before they left, for most of the insects had left him alone tonight.

  Finally, after what seemed far too long a time, Snowfire motioned him forward, and slipped out into the open himself.

  Now, for the first time in days, Darian found himself on totally familiar ground. The wooden aqueduct hung above their heads, dripping fairly steadily; he followed the sounds of dripping until his outstretched hands encountered the ladder that led to the first clean-out door up above.

  He took a chance that one word wouldn’t betray them. “Here!” he whispered harshly, and was suddenly surrounded by seventeen Hawkbrothers.

  He scrambled up the ladder and felt for the catch that released the door. The aqueduct wouldn’t have worked for a week if it hadn’t been covered to keep leaves and trash out; nevertheless, things did manage to get in, and moss and algae grew in the trough. Hatches had to be made to permit occasional cleaners—usually older, more responsible children—to scrub the troughs. To avoid accidents with overcurious or adventurous younger children, the catches were reasonably tricky. Darian had already served one stint as a cleaner; that was how he knew where the catches were and how to open them.

  He had a moment of panic when the mechanism jammed and refused to open, but after some desperate prying and jiggling, it broke loose and let him lift the hatch up. With a sigh of relief, he lifted the heavy hatch off to the side. Darian listened for a moment to the cold water running inside, and permitting himself a shiver, climbed in.

  He was immediately soaked to mid-calf in very cold water, but he knew that before they reached the village, he’d be soaked clear through. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into the tunnel formed by the trough of the aqueduct and the arch of the roof above it. As he crawled forward into the darkness, he felt someone immediately behind him.

  Now they were all relying on him to pick the right branching. The right one would bring them out in the village, to the village cistern house right beside the horse trough. The wrong one would send them out into the fields somewhere.

  None of the left-hand branchings, he reminded himself. Those all go out to the fields. As he crawled, he tried not to think about his surroundings. It was so dark in here that he couldn’t see even a glimmer of light. It was cold, there was water up to his chest and the roof of the aqueduct pressing into the back of his head. And someone hadn’t done his job, because the floor was slimy with algae. He tried to remind himself that it could have been worse things, but as he started to shiver, that thought wasn’t at all comforting.

  It’s the second right-hand branching. I’m sure of it. But the longer he crawled, the less sure he became. Was it the second? He’d been crawling an awfully long time, and he’d only come to one place where the aqueduct opened up to the right. What if he’d missed it? What if he’d gone too far? What if they were already crawling off over the fields of barley and turnips?

  Then, just as he was beginning to panic and thinking about trying to get everyone to crawl backward so he could recheck where they’d been, his hand encountered emptiness and water where the wooden wall had been. He stopped, and reached back with his foot to signal that they’d come to the turning.

  He felt a hand grab his foot and squeeze; he moved into the right branch, and continued the crawl forward.

  Here, at least, the cleaners had done their job. Slime gave way to clean wood under his palms, and he sighed with relief. This must be the correct branch; it was the only one that got scoured religiously, for it not only fed the horse trough but was the main water supply for the whole village.

  But now he had new worries. He froze; suddenly they were no longer alone.

  He heard the guards before he saw signs of them; heard their voices echoing toward him down the hollow wooden tube. He froze in place, afraid that they had already caught the sounds of hands and knees shuffling through the water above their heads. In another moment, he saw little flickering bits of light reflected in the water, coming through cracks and crevices in the aqueduct cover. They’re going to hear us. They have some magic, or another Yip Dog, that will sense the Hawkbrothers. They have a real dog that will smell us up here! It was all he
could do to keep from shouting in panic as the lights drew nearer, as he felt the walls pressing in on him. He began to shiver even harder, and clenched his teeth tightly to keep them from chattering.

  Then, miraculously, the lights and voices passed right on by.

  He hardly believed it at first, and only a sharp prod from behind got him going again. Twice more, lights and voices approached and passed, and twice more they all froze in place, waiting, shivering in the cold water.

  At long last, his hand encountered the end of the aqueduct. They were in the cistern house, where the aqueduct spilled into a storage cistern which in turn led to the horse trough outside the cistern house. He hung onto the end of the trough, and lowered himself down into the cistern, being careful not to make more of a splash than the water pouring into the cistern already made.

  One by one, the rest of the Hawkbrothers followed, first into the cistern, then, shivering and chilled, onto the floor of the cistern house beside him.

  “I want you to stay here,” Snowfire said in his ear. “Keep out of sight. You’ve done all you need to.”

  He nodded, his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. He couldn’t have replied if he’d wanted to, for he was shivering too hard, and not just with cold.

  “He shouldn’t stay here,” hissed someone else. “There’s no place to hide and only one way in or out, and if anyone comes in here after water, they’re going to find him!”

  Snowfire growled, but reluctantly agreed. “Let me have Hweel check the stable.”

  Silence then, except for the sound of falling water and occasional voices outside the cistern house. Darian was in a constant state of terror lest some drunkard stumble in to douse his head and find them all there. At long last, Snowfire spoke again.

  “Dar’ian, go to the stable,” he ordered. “Hweel says that there are no humans quartered in there, nothing but horses. You should be safe enough at this time of night, and it’s halfway between the threshing barn and here. We can get you on our way out of the village.”