by Jack Massa
As Amlina picked up the book, Glyssa edged forward, spear pointed, and placed the earrings on the ground. She backed cautiously away. The elders stared with avaricious eyes at the jewelry, then squawked and bobbed their heads. Another wave of tweeting and screeching rolled through the plaza.
“Now some declare they like us better, because of the gift,” Buroof said. “Others maintain they should kill us at once and take all of our shiny possessions.”
Eventually the elders seemed to reach a consensus. The one who had spoken before screeched and flapped his wings until the canyon grew quiet. When he spoke, Buroof translated.
“After due deliberation, the council has decided to adopt us into their tribe. But first we must pass a test of worthiness.”
“That is marvelous!” Queen Meghild cried.
“Aye, so it is!” Wilhaven answered.
“What is the test?” Amlina said.
The reply came: “The prescribed test is to fly to the nearest mountaintop and return with a stone equal to one’s own weight. However, as we plainly lack wings, they have … generously and graciously … decided on an alternative. Which is, we must cross this bridge and safely reach the other side.”
“Well, that sounds easy enough,” Lonn said over Amlina’s shoulder.
“Yes,” the witch answered. “Too easy. Buroof, ask if there are any conditions to the test.”
The torms seemed riotously amused by the question.
“Of course there are conditions.” Buroof spoke the reply. “You must walk across without the use of eyesight. You will all be blindfolded.”
Amlina craned her neck. “I cannot see the bridge clearly as it is crowded with torms. Ask them to clear it.”
This request was greeted with hostile cheeping. But after some argument, the elders directed that the span be cleared. Reluctantly, it seemed, the torms on the bridge flew off to find other perches. Amlina examined the vacated bridge. The walkway was wide enough, but centuries of disrepair had left it perilous for crossing on foot. Many of the stones were broken or missing, and a single misstep could easily result in a plunge to the rocks far below. Still, with her witch’s sight, Amlina judged she could make the crossing blindfolded without much danger.
“Tell them we accept the test,” she told Buroof. “But that I alone will walk the bridge, representing our whole company.”
This suggestion did not sit well with the torms and incited another round of raging debate. Several of the elders spread wings and rose in the air a few yards, peering down at the travelers. Amlina waited patiently, staring calmly at the elders. Finally, they arrived at a decision.
“The torms accept the concept of choosing one to represent all,” Buroof said, “but insist on their prerogative to do the choosing. You, Amlina are not acceptable, as you are the leader and presumably the most powerful. If all are to be judged worthy of their tribe, then the smallest and weakest must pass the test.”
As Buroof finished, all of the elders lifted long arms and pointed talons at Glyssa.
Nineteen
With a stab of fear, Glyssa observed the torms pointing at her, felt their golden, predator eyes boring into her. A memory flashed in her mind: Belach appearing in her vision as a human-shaped bird. Each time you meet fear, it must be faced and overcome.
“Glyssa—” the witch began.
“I know. I must cross the bridge blindfolded, or all of us will be attacked. Very well, I will do it.”
Her mates started protesting that one of them could take her place, but Amlina interrupted.
“Listen to me, Glyssa. Your eyes will be covered, but mine will not. When you begin the crossing, quiet your mind and focus your thoughts on me. I will guide you. I will be your eyes.”
“Yes,” Glyssa whispered. “I understand. I will try.”
Amlina nodded, her lips clenched. She instructed Buroof to communicate that the challenge was accepted. The book screeched this message forcefully, and the torms responded with furious excitement. Many took to the air to flap and tussle with their neighbors. Others flew low over the witch’s party, broad wings swooping close. In the chaos, Glyssa could scarcely hear the elders, flailing and squawking. Finally, they succeeded in quieting the assembly and clearing the space in front of the bridge.
Two torms fluttered down, one of them holding a hood of black cloth. As they moved to fasten the hood over Glyssa’s head, Amlina halted them with a gesture. The elder was speaking again.
Buroof interpreted: “The elder says there is one further condition. While the small one attempts to cross the bridge, two hunters will harry her.”
“You mean she must fight them off while blindfolded?” Amlina cried in astonishment. “That hardly sounds fair.”
When Buroof had translated these words, Glyssa heard cawing that resembled laughter.
“Ah, the torms are amused,” Buroof said. “They do not understand what you mean by fair. Apparently the concept has no equivalent in their language.”
“She won’t have a chance,” Lonn said. “Amlina, you must find another way.”
“Better to fight our way across,” Karrol muttered through set teeth.
“Aye, my lovelies.” It was the voice of the queen. “Better to die fighting them.”
The Iruks drew their swords.
“No!” Glyssa shouted. “Let me try it. If I fail, you can all die fighting after.”
She turned to Amlina, who twisted her mouth, then nodded.
“Let us try,” the witch said. “We have a chance, I think.”
She closed the book and set it under her arm. With her free hand, she took hold of Glyssa’s wrist and started toward the bridge. The rest of the party followed, the Iruks moving reluctantly, hefting their weapons and glaring at the torms who swooped in to crowd around them.
“Focus on clearing your mind,” Amlina whispered. “Once the hood is in place, remember my touch and seek to follow that memory to my mind, my perceptions. The blindfold will actually help you in this, as it will keep you from distraction.”
They stopped at the edge of the ruined bridge. Glyssa surveyed the pavement, striving to memorize gaps and broken masonry, to pick out a safe path. The noisy chirping had subsided to a hushed murmur of excitement and expectancy. The elder torms stood nearby. One spoke a command and waved a claw. The torm who carried the hood stepped forward. Glyssa tilted her neck. The torm fitted the blindfold over her head and tied it at the throat, talons scraping her skin.
Glyssa choked back panic. She was blind now and breathing was hard. Inside the hood smelled of molting feathers.
Amlina squeezed her wrist a last time, then let go. “Draw your sword, Glyssa. Listen for my thoughts. We will cross the bridge together.”
Glyssa sucked in her breath. She gripped the hilt and slid the sword from its scabbard. With blade and spear pointed high, she stepped blindly onto the bridge.
All around she heard the torms, shrieking and cawing. Her knees felt weak, but she took another step. Inside the hood she shut her eyes, seeking desperately to recall Amlina’s touch, to feel the witch’s mind.
Lifting her foot for the third step, she heard the witch’s voice like a whisper.
We are linked in the Deepmind. We are one.
Glyssa’s stomach lurched. A sensation like a gust of wind lifted her mind, yanking it backward out of her body. Gray light flashed, and then she could see. A few paces in front of her, a small hooded woman crossed the bridge, sword and spear in hand. She was seeing herself though Amlina’s eyes.
Watch out! Amlina’s thought cried inside her skull.
Glyssa ducked just in time as the torm hunter swooped, talons on feet and hands reaching. She swung her blade and the hunter wheeled away, shrieking.
The other one!
Glyssa saw it through Amlina’s eyes, diving from the other side. It took Glyssa a moment to translate the vision into action in her own body. That left her only time to drop flat onto her belly. The claws missed her, and Glyssa rolled over an
d thrust the spear with a fierce yell.
Distantly, she heard her mates cheering, their shouts all but drowned by the frenzied squawking and cawing of the torms. Through the witch’s eyes, she saw the two hunters rise into the air, confused by how she had met their attack.
Taking advantage of their surprise, Glyssa scrambled to her feet and staggered forward. She took several lurching steps, still struggling to match her muscles’ actions to the eyesight from outside of her body.
Almost halfway across, she saw the hunters dive again. They were attacking together this time, but Glyssa was ready. She let them come close, then sprang ahead, turned and crouched all in one motion. Swiping with the blade to keep one of the torms away, she thrust the spear hard at the other. She felt the point pierce its body and the torm screamed. It flapped its wings violently to free itself from the spear, then collapsed onto the stones. It backed away on skittering feet, covering the belly wound with its arms.
Through Amlina’s eyes Glyssa spied the other hunter, hovering now, unsure. She seized the opportunity, pivoted, and ran. She was within a few paces of the end of the bridge when her toe struck a raised stone and she stumbled. Her body sprawled on the pavement and she heard a sharp scraping sound. The upper half of her body sank, masonry shifted beneath her, and then her hands were clutching empty air.
Part of the bridge had collapsed. Even as this thought registered with its terror, her legs slipped and she knew she was falling into the gorge. In desperation her mind reached back for Amlina. Suddenly, Amlina was there, and Glyssa felt a force, like a strong hand. It clutched her collar and dragged her body forward. Her hands and then her knees scrabbled onto solid stones.
Clambering to her feet, she heard the screeching of hundreds of torms, and her mates shouting to her. But when she reached for Amlina’s mind, she felt only a splitting pain.
Somehow, the witch had pulled Glyssa to safety. But the unexpected effort had been too much. Now Amlina was down, perhaps unconscious.
And Glyssa was blind. She couldn’t even tell which direction she faced. And one hunter still stalked her. Fearing its approach, Glyssa raised both her weapons high, waving them as she circled, trying to think what to do.
Frantically, she reached for Amlina’s mind, hoping to re-establish the link. At first, she found only darkness and a splitting pain in her skull. But suddenly the veil lifted, and she could see again. Once more she saw the canyon and the torms everywhere, and her own body at the far end of the bridge. More, she felt a rush of strength and support—the klarn!
She was seeing herself through the eyes of her mates.
Just as she realized this, she heard them shouting for her to duck. The torm was attacking again. Glyssa dodged below the talons. She swiped viciously with the sword. The torm screeched and rose on its wings. Glyssa turned and darted the last few steps.
Amid the uproar of squawking and the flapping of countless wings, she heard her mates cheering on the far side of the chasm. She reached to remove the hood, but felt torms crowding around her and clawed fingers untying the cord. The hood was lifted off, and she glimpsed a chaos of wings, feathered bodies, cawing beaks. Claws gripped her upper arms, and she was lifted into the air. At first she thought they meant to drop her into the gorge after all. But as they flew higher, high above the canyon walls, and numerous torms soared around her, she realized they were celebrating, cheering her victory, welcoming her to their tribe.
* O *
Amlina climbed to her feet, squinting, straining to clear her vision. Draven and Wilhaven supported her arms. She had blacked out after … after seeing Glyssa fall and the bridge give way under her. Amlina had reached out with her mind, pulled Glyssa to safety in an instinctive act of pure shaping. But channeling such power without preparation and in a moment of fear had exacted a cost. Her eyesight wavered, and her head hurt as if pierced by a needle.
All around her the winged people were chirping and flapping in mad excitement. The Iruks were shouting—Glyssa had been carried away. Amlina looked up, spotted torms soaring far overhead. Two of them held Glyssa’s body, her legs dangling. The witch picked up the book from where she had dropped it, flung open the cover.
“Buroof! Speak to the torms. Ask them what is happening. Tell them to bring Glyssa back to us!”
Amlina held the book open, facing the elders who stood nearby. Hearing Buroof’s speech, the elders chortled with amusement. Several of them answered at once.
“They say not to worry,” Buroof told her. “The small one will not be harmed. You are all part of their tribe now.”
Another elder pointed at Amlina and chirped, eyes flashing.
“He says that you used witchcraft to win the challenge. That was unexpected. He admires your trickery.”
Amlina rubbed her forehead. “Ask that they please set Glyssa down safely.”
“Look!” Lonn pointed his spear. “They are carrying her away!”
Glancing aloft, the witch saw the group holding Glyssa fly off beyond the cliffs.
The elders chattered and Buroof translated: “Have no fear. They are taking her to the … the nearest word, I think, is aerie. I take it to be their gathering place—or perhaps ‘high place of ceremony.’ All of you will be brought there, to be welcomed into the tribe. They are sending for conveyances now.”
* O *
The conveyances proved to be woven baskets, which the torms normally used for transporting animals and freight. As soon as the baskets were set on the ground, the witch and her companions were abruptly picked up in twos and threes and dropped inside—all except for the eidolon, whose light body simply flowed through the basket wall, to the astonished delight of the torms.
“What about our baggage and the aklors?” Amlina shouted to Buroof.
The book made the inquiry and received a reply that the goods would be brought, the animals tended. “Though, by tended, I think they might mean eaten.” Buroof observed.
Before Amlina could react to that, she was thrown off her feet as the basket jerked into the air. Four of the winged people bore it aloft with ropes coiled around their bony arms. Amlina’s head swam as she gripped the rim of the basket and struggled to stand. Dozens of torms flew around them, screeching. In a tumult of flapping wings, the baskets were carried up out of the canyon and away over the cliffs.
The view was stupendous—soaring ridges of gray and green ascending to snow-capped peaks, steep valleys and gorges, lakes fed by tumbling streams, all flushed with the rose and gold colors of sunset.
“How wonderful!” The eidolon of the queen murmured, standing beside the witch.
From the other baskets, Amlina heard the Iruks, laughing and shouting with nervous amazement.
“This is fantastic,” Draven cried. “We are flying.”
“That is obvious,” Eben answered, sounding less than comfortable.
“I’ll be happy when they set us down again,” Karrol called.
“Not I!” Meghild keened with delight. “O Amlina, this alone is worth everything to me.”
Amlina herself felt dazed by it all, her head still aching.
Soon the winged people approached the ruins of a Nagaree castle built at the top of a jagged peak. Scores of torms had already gathered, and more were flying in from all directions. They circled in the air, strutted on the ground, perched on battlements and walls. As the baskets glided low over the courtyard, Glyssa waved excitedly from amid the feathered throng. When they touched down, she ran up to greet them. Whooping with joy, the Iruks jumped out of their baskets and hugged her.
“No, I wasn’t frightened at all,” Glyssa explained in answer to their breathless questions. “That is, not after I made it across the bridge. I could tell they did not mean to harm me. Still, I am glad you all got here at last. Even with my new friends, I was starting to feel lonely.”
“You did well, Glyssa.” Amlina embraced her warmly. “I am so glad you are safe.”
“And you. I felt your mind lift me when I started to fall—an
d also that it hurt you to do it. Are you all right?”
“Well enough,” Amlina brushed a hand through her hair. “I seem to have blacked out. And I don’t know how you crossed the rest of the way. You must have been blind.”
Glyssa beamed, clutching the shoulders of Brinda and Lonn. “It was my klarn. When I could no longer see through your eyes, I reached out and found I could see through theirs.”
Remarkable, Amlina thought. She wondered again at the mysterious bond the Iruks shared, and at the unsuspected talents Glyssa continued to show.
The group of elders filed toward her with their waddling gait. They spoke with rapid chattering. Amlina opened the talking book to request translation. The elders were welcoming her and her companions to the place of ceremony and directing them to follow.
They walked through the milling assembly of torms who crowded close, cooing and chirping, some reaching out to brush them gently with a pinion. The whole attitude of the winged people had changed to one of soothing mildness. They now seemed to regard the travelers as friends—or rather, as clumsy fledglings deserving of solicitude and protection.
Amlina and her party were conducted to a place of honor, a stone porch in front of a ruined wall. As twilight gathered, bundles of sticks and heavy logs were laid out for a bonfire. The elders conversed with the witch, spreading their wings and peering brightly as they chattered. They asked where the party was bound, and seemed mightily impressed that their destination was Valgool. The torms never ventured there, they said, as the place was haunted by ravenous killers—Buroof translated the name of the creatures as ghost dogs. Nevertheless, the elders promised to convey the travelers to the outskirts of the city. When Amlina asked about the aklors, she was assured there was no reason for concern. The animals had already been butchered and would be served as part of the evening’s feast.
After the bonfire was lit, the assembly listened intently as one elder then another made grandiose speeches. This was a great day. Never before in memory had wingless people been welcomed into the tribe. Amlina and her companions were directed to stand. One by one, they were approached by a coterie of elders, who presented them with symbolic feathers and pronounced their new tribal names. Snorting with amusement, Buroof translated. Amlina was called “White-pinioned Witch”; while Glyssa was named “Small Lethal Claw.” Meghild laughed with delight to be dubbed “Wind of Light and Blood.”
