*Chapter Twenty two
Darkwind led the way for this strange parade of Outlanders, winding through the piles of stone on the weed-grown path that led from this end of the ruins to the gryphons' lair. It was a good thing that they had enlarged it; between two Outlanders, their spirit-horses, and Nyara, it would have been crowded otherwise. He wished strongly for something to ease his aching head, or to make him able to forget everything that had happened for the past several days. Or both.
Well, perhaps not everything.
I have my father back again. That was no small gain, even when weighed against all the grief and pain.
He concentrated on staying on his feet; glad beyond telling that this incursion would likely mean there would be nothing more today. If only he were in his ekele-he had begun this day wearied and emptied of all strength, or so he thought. He had not found anyone able to take his patrol for him, so he had taken to the border, resigned to another stretch without rest. It had been two days without sleep, now.
But it had been quiet, amazingly so-until, when (of course) he was at the very opposite end of his patrol, he sensed magic, powerful magic, being used somewhere near the gryphons' lair.
He'd thought it might have been Treyvan, doing something to free the gryphlets from Falconsbane's control. But any hope he'd had of that had been shattered by Treyvan's Mindcall.
There was a massing of Misborn beasts, Falconsbane's creatures, in pursuit of two humans-and one of those humans was using magic to try and drive them off. Without success, as it happened. The gryphons were going to their aid. It was his territory; so must he.
He, and they, had arrived on the spot simultaneously, to play rescuer to Outlanders. That had irritated him beyond reason; he was tired, and he saw no reason to save ignorant fools from the consequences of their own folly. He had intended to send them back where they came from, whether they were still in danger or not-until he actually saw who, or rather, what, he had rescued.
He glanced back over his shoulder at them, trying not to look as if he was doing so. 'Unsettled' was the mildest term for the way he felt right now. 'Shaken' probably came closer; profoundly shaken.
Well, it is not every day that a pair of Guardian Spirits and a pre-Magewar Artifact fold wings on your doorstep...And when one added the fact that the person bearing the Artifact-and in the charge of the more potent of the Guardian Spirits-was a completely untutored mage of Adept potential-If this is a trial of my abilities-the gods have no sense of proportion.
He was exhausted, bewildered, and one step short of collapsing. All he could think of was to take these Outlanders to the gryphons' lair, where they had left Nyara. Treyvan agreed; and concurred with his judgment that they did not dare let these two-four-five-wander about with things as unsettled as they were. If Falconsbane got his hands on them, as he was so obviously trying to do, Darkwind was not willing to think about what uses he might make of them.
With any luck, the Elders were so concerned with Starblade that they would not find out about these 'visitors' until they were long gone.
And meanwhile, perhaps he could find somewhere safe to send them.
To the Shin'a'in? No, they had forsworn magic.
Could these two have stolen that sword from the soil of the Plains?
That horrifying thought nearly stopped him in his tracks, until he remembered that the blade did not have the air of disuse about it that something of that nature would-and that it did have the air of something that was alien to the kind of magics that lay buried in the Plains. Woman's magic; that was it. No, this was nothing that had been created by the thoroughly masculine Mage of Silence-and it did not have the look or feel of anything forged by the Shin'a'in. Weapons made for the servants of the Star-Eyed were as sexless as the Kal'enedral; this artifact was as female in its way as-as Nyara.
He staggered a little as he neared the I recovered himself before the Outlanders noticed. Above all, he had to present a strong front to them. There was no telling what kind of unwitting havoc they could cause if they thought he was less than vigilant, ineffectual-he was certain now that they meant no harm, not with Guardian Spirits hanging about them, but they could cause a great deal of trouble if they chose to meddle without knowing what they were about.
I could wish they were Shin'a'in; then we would have two more useful allies at this moment...Hydona was already in the lair when they reached it; Treyvan waited outside. 'In there,' he said, shortly, wishing he dared shake his head to clear his eyes. 'If you have gear, Hydona will tell you the chamber you may use.' When the young man looked from him to the spirit-horse doubtfully, he added, 'The white ones, too. We will find them food if you do not have it.' He bowed a little to the mare. 'Zhaihell-va, lady. You honor k'sheyna with your presence.' The spirit-mare looked flattered and surprised-so did the young man.
'You do not look well,' Treyvan noted.
