Sword of Ice and Other Tales of Valdemar

the worst of the burns. Fortunately, the injuries were bad only above the waist.

'I should feel guilty about leaving the war right now, but I don't,' Vanyel said, snuggling closer to Jonne. Yfandes had politely excused herself before things had gotten too involved, and Vanyel said he was keeping in touch with her. The Companion had recently returned from a brief recon of the area, and her news had been good. All magical attacks had ceased, and the regular army was on alert, ready for any conventional invasion.

'The Karsite Mages may think I'm dead,' Vanyel said casually. 'In which case, I had better keep my head low, and in this cave. I suspect this place is shielding me from them.' He shook his head. 'All those men, dead. Why was I the only one to survive?'

Jonne didn't know how to answer him, so he remained quiet. Something dark and sinister haunts this man, and if I pry too much, he's likely to shut me out completely, Jonne reasoned. He will tell me when he is ready. If that time ever comes.

'You survived so you could be with me,' Jonne teased, and nibbled on his right ear. 'Otherwise, who would I have had to sleep with? My horse?'

'Your horse,' Vanyel said, with a smirk, 'would have had more meat on his bones than I. Not to mention ... well.' Van turned, and gave him a long, slow kiss. Afterward, he proceeded to wrap Jonne's arms around him 'again, holding them tightly. 'How can you find me attractive?' Van said, after a long pause. 'I've lost so much weight in the last year, I'm practically a skeleton.'

The question confounded Jonne. How can I find him attractive? How can I not! I haven't felt this good bedding someone since I was twenty.

'You are a most beautiful man, Vanyel,' Jonne said. 'I suspect that you're not very good to yourself.' The Guardsman almost regretted saying that last; this was getting into an area Vanyel probably didn't want to explore. But Van said nothing, at first.

'Savil would agree,' Vanyel said at last. 'Tell me, Jonne, have you ever had a lover?'

What, exactly, does he mean by lover? he wondered, and since he didn't want to seem thick, he didn't ask. A one night fling, or a year-long relationship? The farmer he'd known was the closest thing to being a lover, his marriage to a lady notwithstanding. Jonne told Vanyel about him, and the day or two they'd spent in each other's intimate company.

'It was not what I would have preferred,' Jonne added. 'But it was what was available.' He held Van tighter, as if to emphasize their present situation. 'It was better that, than nothing at all.' Jonne hoped that he didn't sound cheap; it was how he felt, and he assumed honesty is what Vanyel wanted.

'Then I suppose I must consider myself fortunate, to have had Tylendel as long as I did,' Vanyel said, with only a hint of sadness. 'This is Sowan. The anniversary of his death.'

That was his lifebonded, Jonne thought. The one he lost. The pain must have been. ... He searched, but could not find the words to describe what he though Van might have felt.

'It was a long time ago, but it still feels like a part of me left when he did. I don't expect to replace him —'

'But you don't have to be alone the rest of your life either,' Jonne blurted, uncertain where his words were coming from. 'I don't know what the gods have in mind for me, but I do believe we were meant to be together tonight, and perhaps tomorrow night as well.'

'And after that?'

Jonne carefully turned Vanyel around and looked directly into his eyes. 'Does anyone know?'

Afterward they slept, and when they woke Yfandes had returned well fed from another trip. The enemy had left the area, as near as she could tell, but Van was uncertain. The brief time he'd spent with Jonne had helped him recover more energy than he said he'd expected, and he appeared to be ready to take on the entire Karsite army.

'As you are a mage, there is something I must give

you,' Jonne said, pulling on the last of his clothes. They had made temporary repairs to Vanyel's Whites, but he would still have to replace them as soon as they got back to the camp. 'But you must promise to tell no one about this place, because this mine is a family secret, and needs to remain that way. If Karse knew what was down here, they would have invaded in force long ago.'

'Mine?' Vanyel said absently, but Jonne had already ducked back into one of the dark tunnels. Moments later he reappeared, concealing something wrapped in cloth.

/ don't know if I'll ever see him again, Jonne thought, even though he doubted last night would be a one night stand. The Fates can be tricky sometimes.

Vanyel opened the cloth, revealing a massive, perfectly formed rose quartz crystal the size of his fist. The Herald-Mage stared at its perfection for a long time before saying anything.

'This is the largest rose quartz crystal I've ever seen,' he said. 'Are you certain you want to part with it?'

Jonne beamed with pleasure. 'I'm certain, Herald-Mage. Just, whenever you see it, think of me, would you?'

Vanyel looked like he was about to cry. Instead, he took Jonne's hand in his own, then wrapped his arms around him in the tightest embrace yet.

'I will never forget you, Guardsman,' the Herald-Mage whispered in his ear.

Sword of Ice

by Mercedes Lackey and John Yezeguielian

Hailing from the Chicago area, John Yezeguielian began his writing career at 14, when an article of his was published in a local paper. Since then he's written a music review column and various other pieces of journalism. This short story marks his first published fiction. Previously he has worked in fast food, owned and operated three businesses, trained animals, programmed computers, and been a bodyguard to celebrities and princesses. His hobbies include sailing, scuba diving, motorcycling, aviation, Aikido, and falconry. (Yes, he's a real-life Hawkbrother.) Prose and music, however, remain his highest passions. He lives near Tulsa with a cougar, a bobcat, two German shepherds, and, of course, a mews full of hawks and falcons.

:Downwind,: the voice in Savil's head demanded, and Savil followed in the direction of the falcon as it changed trajectories. The huge bird pulled its wings in tightly now, an arrow slicing through the sky.

:Hurry!: the raptor pleaded, and Savil felt the urgency in the falcon's mental message.

If only it could give me more than vague concepts. Savil mumbled imprecations under her breath as she scrambled over yet another boulder in this miserable craggy landscape.

All at once, as if in answer to her unspoken wish, Savil's mind flooded with images. Sensations of speed overwhelmed her as her vision was superseded by the bird's point of view as it twisted and gyrated, plummeting recklessly from the heavens. Vertigo swept Savil's footing from beneath her. She scrambled blindly now, her fingers clawing desperately at the granite face, struggling for purchase as she slid down the side, dangerously close to a ledge.

Shut it down. Center, she reminded herself. This is novice stuff. Regain control. In an instant, Savil was back in charge of her perceptions. Then she slowly let the bird's sendings back in, until they were vaguely superimposed on her true sight.

She couldn't see a man yet, but from the bird's eyes she could see what lay over the next rise. Rock scorched and molten, trees burst, their trunks still smoldering. The scene was one of rampant havoc, implying power turned loose to run wild in a way that sent atavistic chills up her spine. And then the falcon swiveled around one last boulder. Kicking its feet out before its body, the bird flared its long, pointed wings and set down gently upon firm ground.

Or what? In her mind's eye, Savil could see the falcon looking in what must be her direction, the raptor's sure, steady gaze finding her amidst the mass of upthrown debris, still quite some distance off. But the bird's vision was wavering, rising and falling. And then the falcon cast its gaze downward, and Savil saw the burned face of a man.