She was dead, but she had taken Darkwind with her.
Elspeth turned and stared at the heap of broken stones, her throat choked with grief so all-consuming that she could not think, could not even weep. She stumbled a step or two toward the pile -
And Vree came winging in out of the darkness, through the gaping, broken wall. He landed beside the stones, and hopped over to them - to the only part of Darkwind that she could see, his hand. He nibbled the fingers, as if to try to coax life into them, and Elspeth's grief overflowed into scalding tears that blurred her vision. Her throat closed, and she sobbed, then moaned with pain.
He was gone. She was alone. Hulda had won, after all. His loss was an ache that would never be healed.
:Damn...bird.:A whisper in her mind.
What?
:Elspeth...ashke:
Grief turned to hysterical joy, all in a heartbeat. He was alive!
She shook her head, frantically wiping at her eyes to clear them, then ran to the pile of stones and began to pull them off of him. Vree hopped excitedly beside her, making odd creaking sounds, as she managed to clear his head and shoulders of debris.
He looked terrible; bruised and bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and she trembled to think how many bones might be broken. But he was alive!
:Gods.:He opened his eyes for a moment, then closed them :I feel...awful. Like...a wall...just fell on me.:
Her heart overflowing, she resumed pulling stones from his body, ignoring splitting nails and sharp edges that cut her hands, thankful that the winds had snuffed out the earlier fires. Finally she came to a thick slab of wood - a strategic map, showing invasion plans. A map of Valdemar.
It had protected Darkwind from the heaviest of the stones, prevented his lungs and ribs from being crushed. Paint flaked from the board as she twisted it free of him, and troop-counters fell like rain from the "Losses" box she found propping up one end of it. She kept having to shake her head to clear her eyes of tears as she pulled debris away from him, trying to figure out how badly he had been hurt.
:Wait. Check Gwena....:he began, his thoughts coming to her from a haze of generalized pain.
:No need,: Gwena said weakly :I'm going to live. And there's no one down here to bother me while I decide if I still want to. No bones broken, I don't think - some burns, and bruises that go to the bone. Keep him from fading, I'll call Cymry. And you send Vree for him, in case I can't reach him!:
Although that was somewhat confused, Elspeth had no trouble figuring out which "he" Gwena meant :Vree,: she said intently, turning to the falcon, concentrating on trying to impress him with her urgency :Vree, we need Skif. Find Skif. Bring him here quickly!:
Vree bobbed his head once, then nibbled Darkwind's finger, spread his wings, and flapped heavily off into the darkness again.
:He 's...a horrible night flyer, ashke. Hope he doesn't hit anything.:
"Just stay with me," she said aloud, fiercely, starting with that hand to check for broken bones, since it was the piece of him least likely to cause problems if she accidentally moved it. Or held it. "Don't pass out on me."
:I'II try.:
"Stop that!" she snapped, still rubbing away tears. "Stay awake, stop fading! Or - or I'll tell you Hawkbrother jokes! How many Hawkbrothers does it take for a mating circle?"
:No...not that...anything but that.:
"Only one, but he has to be flexible!"
:I'm doomed.:
When Skif arrived, he brought Nyara and Need with him, and his expression betrayed his relief at finding the situation nowhere near as desperate as he had feared from Gwena's weak Mindcall. He told Elspeth that he'd seen worse injuries than Darkwind's out in the field, when miners or builders had been trapped under collapsing walls. Darkwind would not only live, he would do so with all organs and limbs intact....
That gave her some measure of comfort and calmed her shattered nerves a little. And although at some point she would be mad with impatience to hear his side of the story, and the confrontation with Falconsbane, at the moment there was enough on her plate to worry about. They still had to get out of here.
They laid Need down beside Darkwind with his hand on the hilt - she complaining the whole time that she had done enough Healing for one day - and carefully lifted the last of the stones from Darkwind's back and legs. By the time they finished, people were drifting back into the palace, and coming to stare curiously at the wreckage in the room.
But Elspeth and Darkwind still wore their purloined uniforms, and when Elspeth turned and barked "Out!" at the onlookers, they quickly found something else to do.
They limped their way out of the building without being stopped, carrying Darkwind on the map that had saved him, using it as a stretcher. Skif did pause long enough to look down at Hulda and make a tsfang sound.
"A knife," he sighed. "How - predictable."
She thought about hitting him, but she was just too weary - mentally, emotionally, and physically.
He reached down for the offending object, cleaning it on his none-too-clean sleeve and handed it back to her. "Where's the other one?" he asked, as she slipped it into her arm sheath and pulled her sleeve back down over it.
"In the throat of the Eastern Envoy - who is, I suppose, back in his Master's domain," she replied. "He was building a Gate, I got him with the knife, and he fell through it."
Another curious onlooker peeked in the door but vanished before she could even snarl at him.
"Falling dead, with a knife bearing the crest of Valdemar on the pommel-nut," he said dryly. "Very subtle, Elspeth. Couldn't you have sent a more direct message to the Emperor? Like, perhaps, 'Your father won the Horse Faire. Your mother tracks rabbits by scent. Love and kisses, Elspeth of Valdemar.'"
A bit of the ceiling dropped, breaking the silence, followed by the sound of someone picking his way across the floor upstairs. She growled at him, at the end of her patience. "I didn't exactly have much choice," she pointed out. "And if we're going to get out of here before someone names us the assassins of the King, we'd better move now!"
"A good point," he acknowledged, and picked up his end of the board holding Darkwind. "Need - Gwena's rather handicapped at the moment. I don't suppose - "
:Gods. Can't you people do anything for yourselves?:
"We are not Healers," Nyara pointed out sweetly. "You are."
:Right. Bring logic into this.:Elspeth could have sworn that the sword sighed :All right. Bring on the horses.:
:I am not - :Gwena snapped, :a horse!:
Skif helped Darkwind up into Cymry's saddle. Gwena's worst injuries were mostly to muscle, and easily within Need's purview; Darkwind's to bone, which took several days to Heal, and the best Need could do was set them and hold them in place. With Gwena Healed enough to carry her own weight, Elspeth elected to put Darkwind on Cymry's back and walk, with her on one side, steadying him, and Nyara on the other.