"We should talk like this, Wintermoon says," came his mind-voice deep inside her head. Although she had never heard it, she knew it for his and it gave her unexpected comfort, like feeling his hand holding and steadying her. "I'm not-very good at it, I should warn you. Have to be this close to you."
"I will-try," she replied the same way, stumbling a little despite her practice with Need. Her father had never spoken mind-to-mind with her; he had only used his mind to coerce her, and to hurt her.
You'd like Valdemar, I think," he said unexpectedly. "Especially the hills in the south. They're very beautiful in the winter. You'd probably like the Forest of Sorrows," too; that's way in the north. There are mountains up there so tall that some of them have never been climbed." She Saw the image of the mountains, and the forest at their feet, in his mind; saw it drowsing in the heat of summer, alive with birds in the spring, cloaked in flame in the fall, and sleeping beneath a blanket of snow in winter. "Why so sad a name?" she asked.
"oh-that's because of Vanyel," he replied, and told her the tale, embellished with images out of his own experiences and imagination. That tale led to another-and another-and soon it was midnight and time to stop for a bit of a rest and a chance to check their bearings against the stars.
Wintermoon oriented himself; she and Skif dismounted and walked a short distance. "This-being a Herald, I do not understand," she told him, as he held her within the warmth of his arms and coat, and they waited for Wintermoon's two bondbirds to report with their findings.
"Sometimes I don't understand it either," he admitted. "I suppose the closest I can come is to say that it's something I have to do-just as what we're doing now is something you have to do. But what I do is not because of hate, or anger, or the feeling that I owe it to anyone." She moved her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. "Then why?" she asked simply, longing, suddenly, to understand.
"Would it sound entirely stupid to say that it was out of love?" he asked.
"that's not the whole of it; that's not even the largest part, but it's the start." She waited, patiently, for the rest of the answer, and it came, in bits and pieces. They were pieces that did not yet fall together to make a whole, but like the pieces of a mirror they reflected bits of him that made her see him a little more clearly. When one assembled a broken mirror, one could still discern an image.
Some of his reason was gratitude-the Heralds had literally saved his life and given him something like a real family. That revelation made her feel kinship and a bitter envy; she had known only brief affection and never any sense of real family. She had, now and again, spied upon the lesser creatures of her father's stronghold with wonder and jealousy.
She had seen fathers who caressed their children with nothing ever coming of those caresses but care; she had seen children greeting their fathers with joy and not fear. And she had seen that strange and wondrous creature, a mother... a creature that could and would die to save the offspring she had given life to. A creature that gave life and love without asking for anything other than love in return-no matter what the child became, no matter what darkness it turned to.
Skif had not known a mother like that either; in that much, they were kin.
Yet he received that kind of unquestioning love from-his Companion.
She suppressed another surge of envy. To have that kind of lovewhat did he need from her?
Somehow he sensed that doubt, and answered it. Not with words, though; with feeling, feelings that she could not possibly doubt. In her mind, he held her close and warmed her.
Their peaceful reverie was broken by his Companion, who stole up beside them and nudged his shoulder. He turned to her after a moment of silent dialogue.
"Cymry says that Elspeth and Darkwind have managed to attract some attention by springing a trap. She doesn't think Falconsbane is personally involved yet, but now would be a good time to move on while his guards are occupied with trying to catch them." She nodded and sensed Need's agreement as well.
The moment passed, but something of it remained. She examined herself carefully, trying to figure out exactly what it was, and finally gave it up.
The terrain became uneasily familiar, and she felt that cold fear rising up her spine and chilling her throat. Soon now-soon. The first of the border-protections was not that far from here; soon she would have to dismount, shed cloak and coat, and key herself up to the point where she could ignore pain and exhaustion, and run like one of the dyheli herself.
By dawn, if all went well, she would be inside the fortress itself.
Alone..."Alone, like bloody hell," the sword snorted scornfully. "What am I, an old tin pot?" The image that Need sent to her, of Nyara wielding a tin pot against fearful guards, made her smother a giggle, and completely dispelled the fear. Of course she wasn't alone! She had Need beside her, Skif behind her-she would never really be alone again!
"That's the spirit. Just keep thinking that way." And somehow, she did, as she and Skif followed Wintermoon deeper into the forest, past the valley where the dyheli herd had been caught by one of her father's traps so long ago, closer to the border and the first of the barriers that she must cross.
*Chapter Twenty-four - Treyvan and Hydona
Elspeth had been feeling eyes on the back of her neck for the past league and more, ever since they had sprung the trap meant for a bondbird. A particularly nasty thing, Brytha had spotted it and had alerted them to the fact that there were both physical and magical defenses in the trees as well as on the ground. If Vree had encountered such a thing unprepared, it would certainly have caught and hurt him and might well have killed him. But then, Falconsbane was well aware that harming the bondbird meant harming its bondmate.
The night-shrouded forest had held plenty of traps, not all of them Falconsbane's. Rocks and roots lurked beneath the snow, to trip even the wariest. Shadows could hide anything-or nothing. Elspeth's nightsight was not of the best, and she was forced to rely on Gwena's physical senses entirely-although, truthfully, that meant she could devote most of her attention to her mage-senses, spying out trouble ' .
Trouble there was, right enough, and it increased the closer they got to Falconsbane's lands. Alarms, and more traps, some meant to hold, and some meant to kill. Places where Falconsbane's underlings had simply left things to trip up the unwary, to make them delay. Nothing living, though; Elspeth was not sure if that was a good or bad sign.
Now, with the gray light of dawn creeping over the forest and Vree scouting overhead, she was so tense with anxiety that she felt like a spring too tightly wound-and would have been starting at every little sound, if she had not held herself under careful control. This was the first time she, personally, had played decoy-the Heir to the Throne of Valdemar was far too important to risk as a decoy or bait-and now she knew how Kero and the Skybolts had felt when they were playing this little game.
I can't show I know we're in danger, or we stop being such attractive targets...If everything was going according to plan, the gryphons would be completing their task if they had not already done so. Nyara would be deep inside her father's stronghold. And very soon they would be free to sprint back for the shelter of the Vale and the protections of a Vale full of mages and Adepts.