The moment the pressure was released, the entire construction would implode.
The swiftest of the gryphons, two of nearly pure gryfalcon lineage, would take the farthest points on the web-those two were not Treyvan and Hydona, but a much younger pair, Reaycha and Taisheena. Treyvan and Hydona, as senior mages, would take the nearest points, but they would take more of them, making up in work what they were not PU g was deapportioning the worke; * sianlelehtahdeatgirmeecdofthsaktatnhdisrawnaosn,thneotfairnest way of cretting into flight tim ed within a gryphon wing without a majority consenting to it.
The two older gryphons held the middle heights, providing a marker point for the others to use to orient themselves. It was a moonless night, and on such nights, despite mage-enhanced night-sight, distances were often deceptive.
The first pair gained height above Treyvan and his mate, and shot off. barely visible against the swiftly-darkening sky, heading southwest and northwest. Then the second pair gained altitude and took to the skytrailthen the third-Finally, only he and Hydona were left, gliding in lazy circles on the Vale-generated thermal. The sky was entirely dark now, with wisps of cloud occluding the stars, and a crisp breeze coming up from below. A good night for a flight.
"Well, my fine-crested lover," she said, her mind-voice a warm purring in the back of his mind, "are you prepared to enchant me with some fancy flying?"
"Ever so, my love," he replied, and drove his wings in powerful beats that sent him surging upward and outward, as she did the same. He glanced at her, and felt the familiar warmth of love and lust heating him as she showed her strength and beauty, angling against the wind "We shall meet at dawn."
Nyara also left at sunset, riding dyheli-back. She had not expected that boon, but the dyheli themselves had insisted on it. Her partner for this first part of the journey, until the moment that she must go on afoot, was a young female, Lareen. Fresh and strong, she promised laughingly that she could keep her rider well out of any trouble by strength and speed alone. That suited Nyara perfectly; she had no wish for any kind of a confrontation-it would be far better to reach the borders of Falconsbane's territory without anyone ever getting so much as a glimpse of her.
She had thought that this would be the worst moment of the journey, for Skif had been stiff and silent all during the Council meeting, and she feared he would remain so during the ride. She had not been looking forward to spending what might be their last hours together aching with the weight of his disapproval.
But instead, once the meeting was over, he had taken her aside where no one could overhear them. Except for Need, of course, for the sword had not left her side except for sleep; but the sword had remained silent, and he had ignored the blade entirely.
"Nyara," he had begun, then faltered for a moment, as he looked into her eyes and gripped her shoulders with hands that shook with tension. His usually expressive face had been so full of anxiety that it had become a kind of mask.
She had remained silent, unsure of what to say, only watching him steadfastly. Should she break the silence? Or would that only make things worse?
He had stared at her as if he thought she would vanish or flee with the first word. "Nyara, you know I don't like what they're asking you to do," he said, finally. His voice was hoarse as if he were forcing the words out over some kind of internal barrier.
She had stared deeply into his eyes, dark with emotions she could not read, and fear (which she could), and nodded slowly, still holding her peace.
"But I also won't deny the fact that-that you have a right to do anything you want, and you're capable of doing it. And I won't deny you the chance to do what you think is right, what you have to do.
You're your own person, and if I tried to stop you, tried to manipulate you by telling you I love you, which I do, absolutely, completely-" He shook his head with a helpless desperation, his eyes never once leaving hers, a frantic plea for understanding in his gaze. "I won't do that to you, I won't manipulate you. Please, understand, I don't like this, but I won't stop you, because I know it's something you have to do.~
She had reached up to touch his cheek gently, a lump born of mingled emotions briefly stopping her voice. Then she had smiled and said lightly,
"But I think you have also learned the futility of trying to stop someone who is set on a course from dealing with Els-peth. Yes?" Her attempt at lightening the mood had worked. He had growled a little, but a tiny smile crept onto his lips, and a little of the worry eased from his face. "Yes. Minx. You would remind me of that, wouldn't you?" She had sighed as he relaxed his grip on her shoulders and had moved forward so that he could hold her-which is what she had wanted him to do, with equal desperation, ever since this morning.
For a long time they simply stood together, holding each other, taking comfort from each other's warmth and nearness. "I think what I hate the most is not what you're doing, but that I can't be with you," he had said, finally, his arms tightening around her. "I feel so damned helpless.
I hate feeling helpless."
"We all hate feeling helpless," she had reminded him.
Well, so they did, and she was not feeling less helpless than he, though for different reasons.
Her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness as they rode out into the snow, following, for a while, the tracks of Darkwind and Elspeth. The clean, cold air felt very good on her face; in fact, if their situation had not been so tense, she would have enjoyed this. She had discovered out in her tower that she enjoyed the winter, even with all the hardships she had endured once the weather had turned cold. Now she was adequately clothed for winter in Tayledras scout gear; now she was riding upon the back of a creature built for striding through snow, rather than forcing her own way through the drifts. This was winter taken with pure pleasure.
But tension had her stomach in such sour knots that she had not been able to eat much; her back and shoulders were knotted with anxiety, and she was terribly aware of the burden of the sword at her side and what it meant. Need was cloaking her, presumably, as well as itself, but she absolutely required that cloaking, and she would require every bit of her mentor's skill and learning to come through this alive.
The alarms and traps should not react to me, she told herself, once again.
Father has been otherwise occupied. In no way would he ever expect me to return to him of my own will after attacking him and betraying him. Surely he will not have tampered with the defenses since I left him last. He has been beset by the Shin'a'in, launching his own attacks-when has he had time to reset them? Once I leave Skif and Wintermoon at the border, there should be no difficulty in getting within the territory or the strongholdso why am I as frightened as a rabbit walking into the den of a Changelion?
She shivered, though not with cold, and touched the hilt of the sword unconsciously.
"I'm here, little one," the sword said calmly. "I'm screening us both for all I'm worth. You can do this; I trained you, and I know." Some of the sword's calm confidence seeped into her own soul and eased the cramps in muscles and stomach. There was no point in getting so knotted up that she would accomplish nothing, after all . No point in worrying until it was time to worry.
The trail widened at that point, and Skif rode up beside her; she turned to smile at him, but it was so dark that although she could see his face, she doubted that he could see hers.