However, his were not those hands; that power was there for the service of the Heralds. It was theirs, and theirs alone. They were sealed to it by their very nature, and by the bonds they had with their Companions. It helped to maintain a different sort of web of power, one that linked all Heralds and Companions together.
Next, k’Vala Vale, the nearest to k’Valdemar. Its Stone was old, too, though not nearly as ancient as the Palace Stone, and unlike that Stone, this one was fully awake and active, with much power flowing out as well as into it. There were plenty of demands on the k’Vala Stone, and it responded to those demands as smoothly as a masterful juggler kept an impossible number of toys in the air. It wasn’t quite alive, not quite sentient, yet there was a quality of “life” and “personality” to it that was the hallmark of every Heartstone. That wasn’t surprising, considering how closely linked to the life of a Vale the Heartstone was.
Darian found and identified all of the stones, holding them all balanced within his mind, shining points of brilliant light in the web of life-energy. Firesong followed his work closely, and nodded when Darian found and touched the last of the lot, and the farthest, the Stone of k’Treva Vale.
“Good.” Firesong seemed satisfied that Darian had done the job with a minimal expenditure of his own energies. As a Journeyman, that was all he could really draw on for sustained and heavy use; the energies he himself produced or stored. He could recharge himself with the little trickles of power produced by all the living things around him, but that was akin to filling a cup with the dew collected on leaves. He could also make use of the tiny rivulets of energy as the living power collected in trickles and flowed toward the ley-lines. But not until he reached Master could he use the lines themselves - or the Heartstone.
Most schools of mage-craft built and maintained pools of power available to their Masters, but none except the Tayledras invested the energies not only of their own members but actually ran ley-lines into their power-pools and terminated them there. That was perhaps because only the Tayledras knew how to construct the Heartstones, to keep energy flowing out so that it never overloaded; of all of those outsiders who had tried, only one had succeeded - and that one was the legendary Herald-Mage Vanyel, Adept, and Tayledras-trained. Hundreds of years ago, Vanyel had invested the energies in the web that linked his Heralds, and a spell that had kept (or, more truthfully, irritated) “foreign” mages out of Valdemar, providing that steady drain; the Vales invested the excess in weather-control, shielding, and luxuries like the hot pools. When anyone else tried, the focus of power quickly destabilized in a manner quite destructive and usually fatal to all concerned.
“Now,” Firesong continued, unperturbed, “without disturbing the ley-lines in any way, link yourself to the ones feeding our Stone.”
He knew how to do that. He’d “watched” Firesong do it a thousand times - he’d practiced everything short of touching the lines themselves - and now was the moment of truth. He would either be able to call this hawk he’d trained back to his gloved fist, or fail - and feel its talons sink into his flesh, or watch it soar away out of reach forever.
He noticed that Firesong had no personal shields up whatsoever in case of failure. Knowing Firesong, that might be just another way to increase Darian’s confidence, but it was a trust that touched him deeply.
Except for a brief stab of something sharp, a mingling of fear and excitement, he didn’t let himself think or feel. He just acted.
He “reached” out, moving surely, but not too quickly. He caught hold of the nearest ley-line, and without permitting himself to hesitate, seized it, opening himself to it.
He knew enough to brace himself for the shock, but it still rocked him; it was like opening up his veins to a flow of white-hot glass! For a fraction of a second, he was immersed, blinded by the fiery incandescence, as pathways within him felt the caress of energies they had never known until this moment. Every breath seemed thicker, and every color more intense. All at once, he was drunk, delirious with power, dizzy with its intoxicating song, and disoriented.
Then everything he’d learned, from Starfall, from Firesong, from the mages of k’Vala Vale, came surging to the fore, and it was he who was in control, not the power.
It was still dizzying, still intoxicating, but the heady draught no longer overwhelmed him. He’d ridden horses in Valdemar, some very spirited and powerful horses. This was very like riding such a horse. He commanded; the power obeyed, but only because he had the skill to command and the strength of will not to succumb to the seductive song and be lost in it.
Darian still remembered that lesson outside k’Vala Vale when he’d nearly gotten lost in the shift and flow of the simple life-powers of everything around him. Having experienced that, he knew would not make that mistake again. He made sure that he was still anchored in himself and let his channels become accustomed to the new sensations. Then, metaphorically, he sat back and allowed himself to experience the moment. The wonder of Tayledras teaching was that it permitted the student to accept those things, to comprehend them, but never to become numbed to them; it was a way of understanding, not just using. Now he understood as a Master would. It would never happen like this again, this first taste of power, this seductive latent drunkenness; Darian wanted to be able to remember it, however dimly.
:A remarkably mature sentiment,: came a dry mental voice, after an interval. :But you, my young student, are a Healing-Mage. So what else do you see, feel, or sense?:
What else? Was there anything else?
But even as he asked himself that, his own Mage-Senses answered him, and he knew that, of course, there was. Within the stream of power that was the ley-line, there were a myriad of little subcurrents, and each of those threads told him of the health of the place it originated from. Eddies and obstructions in the flow as he traced it back out of the Vale showed him where the line itself needed alteration or mending. Two other mages - both Hawkbrothers - had tapped into this particular line; he sensed their presence at the same moment they sensed his. They acknowledged each other briefly, and went on with what they were doing. As did he; his touch moved by instinct and, sure from long practice, he mended the line, smoothing out the eddies, altering the flow until it ran swift and unimpeded.
:Good. So, then, catch!: Just as he completed this work, Firesong flipped something at him. Before it had gone half the distance between them, he lanced out a coruscating line of force and caught it in a gentle net of power, holding it in midair. It was only a river stone, but as he met Firesong’s eyes and saw the approval in them, he was very glad that he had chosen to cradle it, and not blast it aside.
:Well done. Now tap into the Heartstone,: the voice commanded. :You’re keyed to it. Now use it. Without dropping the rock, that is.: