and ringed him. He opened his eyes, weary with the effort of controlling the birds, to find himself surrounded by a wall of flame and heat. the leaves were withering even as he watched, the vegetation wilting beneath the heat of the hungry flames. Fear chilled him, even as the heat made him break into a sweat. That was when he realized, when he reached for the power to quench it, that he had exhausted himself in calming the birdsand that he was cut off from the node and the nearest ley-lines. Something had sprung up while he worked; something had arisen to fence him away from the power he needed, not only to quell the fire, but even to save himself. He was enveloped in a wall of shielding as dangerous as the wall of flame.
Smoke poured into the hollow; something brushed against his leg, and he glanced down to see that a rabbit, blind with panic, had taken shelter behind his ankle. The heat increased with every passing moment; it wouldn't be long before this little valley was afire, like the rest of the forest here. He was not clothed for a fire; he had run out in his ordinary gear, a light vest and breeches. He had nothing to protect him from the flames, nothing to breathe through. There was only one thing he could do-wrap the remains of his power about him in as strong a shield as he could muster, and run-As the nearest flames licked toward him, he sent his bird up into the safety of the skies, and sprinted for what he hoped was the easiest way out. Straight into hell.
On the sleeping pad, his body writhed in remembered agony, his mouth shaping screams of pain he was not permitted to voice.
Flames licked his body, hungry tongues reaching out from burning scrub, a tree trunk. There was no pain at first-just a kind of warm pressure, a caress as he ran past. Then came the pain, after the flame had touched-red heat that blossomed into agony. Sparks fell on him as he dashed under a falling, blazing branch. He wrapped his hair around his mouth, and still the air he breathed scorched his lungs. Within moments, there was nothing but pain-and the fear of a horrible death that drove his legs.
Then-cool, smokeless air. He burst out past the fire-line, into the unburned forest. Freedom.
But not from pain. He fell into a stream, moaning, extinguishing his smoldering leather clothing and hair. the stream cooled him but did nothing for the pain, for the horrible burns where the skin was blackened and crisped on his arm. How long he lay there, he did not know. Smoke wreathed over him, but the flames did not grow nearer. He could not tell if it was the smoke that darkened his sight-or his pain. Only that, after a dark, breathless time of agony, salvation loomed out of the smoke, a spirit of mercy-vague and ghostlike.
NO! he screamed. NO! Don't believe him! Kill yourself, draw your knife, kill yourself while you have the chance!
He reached out toward the mist-wreathed shape, who seemed to be someone he knew, yet could not identify. Hazy with an intimation of power, the stranger's white hair was a beacon that drew his eyes. White hair-a Tayledras Adept, surely. Yes, he knew this one; he must. Rainwing? Frostfire? Both were recluses. No matter-he managed a croak, and the other started and turned his steps in Starblade's direction.
No- he moaned. No' I thought I heard someone Call,' said the other, stooping over him in concern. 'I see I was right. ~ His lips shaped words he could not speak for lack of breath. 'Help meSilver hair wove a web of light that dazzled his eyes. the Adept's own eyes, gilded-silver, held his. 'I will have to take you to my home,' the other said worriedly. 'The fire has cut us off from Tayledras Vale. But I can tend you there, never fear. Will that be all right?' Starblade nodded, giving consent, and as a consequence of that consent, relaxed all of his defenses. And as the other bent closer over him, to lift him in amazingly strong arms, he thought he saw a peculiar gleam in the other's eyes...He awoke again, resting on something soft, his arms thrown over his head, with a tawny silken coverlet swathing him from chest to feet. He still hurt, but he was no longer covered with angry, blackened burns, and he took a deep, experimental breath to find his lungs clear again.
Then he tried to move his arms-and couldn't.
He tried harder, struggling against silk rope that bound him hand and foot-with no better success. A deep chuckle answered his efforts.
He twisted his head to face the source of the sound.
'So eager to take leave of my hospitality?' said the tall, catlike Changechild, smiling as he paced toward the couch on which Starblade lay tethered. the creature had modeled himself on a lynx; was clothed mostly in his own tawny-silk hair, but wearing a supple, elaborately tooled and beaded leather loincloth. 'How-uncivilized of you. it- he-smiled, with sensuously parted lips. Starblade wrestled furiously against his bonds. 'My Clan will know where I am,' he warned. 'Even if You kill me, they will know where I am, and they will-'
'They will do nothing,' the Changechild yawned, examining the flex of his own fingers for a moment, admiring his needle-sharp talons. 'You accepted my offer of help, consented to come away with me. You will leave no trail of distress for them to follow-and you are behind my walls and shields now. Call all you like, they will not hear you.' Starblade snarled his defiance. 'You forget, misborn-I am Tayledras.
My bird will bring them here!' He sought for Karry's mind with his own, even as the Changechild moved slightly aside and gestured. 'If you mean that-it tried foolishly to attack me.
Starblade followed the gesture to a shadow-shrouded corner, where something thin and almost-human looked up with wild, unfocused eyes, its hands and mouth full of feathers.
Perlin falcon feathers.
Karry's feathers.
Silent tears ran into his hair; silent sobs shook his body. None of it brought Karry back.
