Savil smiled weakly at them; they wasted no time in formal greetings on seeing the depleted state she was in. They moved as one to augment her own failing energy.
She sighed as they each caught up one of her hands and she felt their energy flowing into her, strong and pure. With one sitting on either side of her, feeding her power to replace what she had lost, she felt able to talk to them.
It had been a while since she was last at k'Treva, but the years hadn't made much change in either of her friends. It was impossible to tell that Starwind was Savil's age, and Moondance only a little older than Vanyel. Adepts were long-lived, normally; node-magic tended to preserve them. Tayledras Adepts were even more long-lived, for they lived amid a constant flow of node-derived magic, magic that touched even the non-Gifted, whether born or raised among them, bleaching their hair and eyes to silver and blue in a matter of two years.
That bleaching effect was even more pronounced and took less time for the mages, a sign that working with node-magic changed them in deeper ways. The drawback was that when they did near the end of their allotted span - and not even an Adept could know when that would be - they would fail and die within a matter of weeks, as the magic burned them up from within.
Savil knew all that, but growled, “You two have little simulacrums locked away somewhere, don't you, that age for you.”
“Now, Wingsister,” Starwind chuckled, “You know that isn't true. You could enjoy the benefits we do, if you would accept our invitation to live here.”
“Can't,” she said shortly. “I have duties, and we've been through all that. Listen, I need your help -”
Briefly, she outlined everything that had happened, and waited for their response.
The initial reaction was pretty much as she'd expected.
“We do not leave k'Treva,” Moondance began, uneasily, when she had finished. “You know that. Our place is here, as it has been for centuries -”
“That, ash'ke'vriden, is no excuse,” said a light tenor voice from just beyond the trees planted at the edge of the “safe” boundary. A huge, white owl winged silently into the clearing to perch on a boulder, and following it was a younger version of the two Tayledras Adepts.
Except that instead of blue eyes, this striking young man had luminous silver, and there was something about the timbre of his strong, vibrant voice that would remind anyone who heard it of Vanyel.
Hardly surprising, since Vanyel was Brightstar's father - and apparently Brightstar was going to be Savil's unexpected ally.
“You yourselves have taught me that Tayledras have left their territories at need before,” Brightstar said, taking a stand beside his owl, “and the world being what it is, likely will again.” He lifted his chin in a way that reminded Savil irresistibly of Van in one of his aggressive moods. “If the need is great enough, what harm in answering it?”
Savil explained again, and Brightstar stiffened his back in outrage. “But you must go! I owe Wingbrother Vanyel my very existence. I would go, if I knew how to deal with these 'leech-blades' -” He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “But I cannot.”
“What, humility from the falcon who refused to admit there was any height he could not soar to?” Starwind raised a sardonic eyebrow.
They were taking this a little too lightly for her comfort, and evidently their adoptive son felt the same. Brightstar glowered. “I do not think that we have time to waste while Vanyel lies in danger from this thing,” he said. “And you are quite right that there are some things I am not suited for.”
“So at last you recognize that yours is the Gift of changing the living and Healing the earth, and not things made by the hand of man.” Moondance looked up, theatrically. “Has the sun turned green? Are fish learning to fly?”
“Is my honored father going to return to the point?” Brightstar retorted. “The question is - Vanyel is in need of us and cannot come to us. How do we answer that need? I say you must go to him before he comes to harm!”
Starwind nodded reluctantly. “Vanyel needs us, and indeed, we owe him much - but is our Clan served by our leaving the Vale? Or would this bring harm that outweighs any good we could do? My son, there are good reasons for keeping our presence as secret as we may.”
A polite cough interrupted them. Savil turned slightly, and saw that Firesong was standing there, obviously waiting to be heard.
Starwind nodded at her, and she coughed again, self-consciously. “If you will excuse my intrusion,” she said, standing at rigid attention with her hands clasped behind her, “It seems to me that the better question would be if the Vale and Clan are harmed by your leaving. And I cannot see that this would be the case. The debt of k'Treva to Wing-brother Vanyel is a high one, and our honor would be in doubt if we did not proffer help when it was asked of us. In my opinion, and speaking as the head of the scouts, I think that this overrides even our tradition of secrecy.”
“So, I am twice rebuked,” Moondance said with a slight smile. “And by the infants. I do believe that I hear a turtle singing.”
“Lest the ground itself rise up to rebuke us a third time, shay'kreth'ashke,” Starwind said, rising and holding out his hand to Savil, “or our son strike us down and drag us across the threshold, let us go.”
“I'm very glad to hear you say that, ke'chara,” Savil said, as they walked toward the Gate, and steeled themselves for the shock of crossing.
“Whyfor?” Starwind asked, pausing on the threshold of the Gate itself.
“Because,” she said, “I'm getting too old to hit attractive men over the head and carry them off. And the sad part is, I'm so old that's the only way I can get them!”
And with that, she took his elbow and stepped across the threshold, taking him with her.
Though she was so exhausted that it felt like days since she'd left, it was hardly more than a candlemark. Either weariness had made it seem longer, or time did odd things when you passed through a Gate.
Or both, she thought, turning to face her creation. No one really knows how the damn things work, anyway: Someday maybe an artificer will discover how to make us fly, and we can do without them altogether. If I had the choice between a nice journey in a comfortable seat, and one of these gut-wrenching Gates, I'd take the journey every time.
She held up her hands and began unweaving her Gate, strand by careful strand, taking the energies back into herself. Tedious work, and dangerous; going too fast could send the power back into her at a rate she couldn't handle. And at her age, a shock like that could all too easily kill her.
Then again, that journey would probably mean entrusting myself to the competence of strangers. There's plenty of folk I wouldn't trust my baggage to, let alone my safety. Ah, well, it's a nice dream, anyway.
Building a Gate took most, if not all, of a mage's energies, but taking it down put a sizable amount of that energy back. Savil was feeling very much her cantankerous self when she turned back to Starwind.