Storm Rising

Prepared to cut me down....

Firesong's burned hand shook and then unclenched as the impact of what was happening sunk in.

Then the anger drained out of him as suddenly as if they had lanced a suppurating boil. He dropped his hand and stared at it, appalled.

'Oh, gods—' he whispered in disbelief. 'Darkwind—what did I do? What was I going to do?'

What kind of a monster did I turn into? What was I thinking? The Heartstone isn't mine, An'desha has every right to follow his own path, and—Karal is as innocent as Aya. Aya. What is wrong with me? Aya, my bird, my bondbird…

Sudden and profound grief took the place of rage, flooding in to fill the void the loss of anger had left behind. His knees gave out and he dropped to the floor, sobbing. Darkwind and Elspeth held their positions, watching steadily. If they continued tapping that rhythm, Firesong could not hear it over his own crying.

Aya, my bird, my bondbird Aya... you didn't mean to, you were scared, I scared you, and I was going to....

Aya raised up from his cowering, just a little, and false sparks showered off him in bursts. The firebird stepped forward hesitantly, and slipped into Firesong's arms to cuddle against him, crooning softly. Firesong apologized to his oldest and dearest friend through his tears, rocking forward and back, losing all track of time.

What did I do... what have I done...?

All the world was hazy from the tears and the smoke, out of focus, out of mind. There was a slow-moving blur on his right, large and graceful, with a sweep of long black hair. Someone dropped down beside him, but it was not Darkwind nor Elspeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them sting even worse, and looked up to find himself gazing into the compassionate and understanding eyes of—Silverfox?

It was Silverfox, whose eyes showed a soul more intricate than all the magic that Firesong claimed to understand and control. Firesong stared through streaks of soot-stained white hair, his arms full of trembling firebird.

'What have I done?' he cried to the kestra'chern. 'What's happened to me? I've turned into... a... monster!' He sobbed, stricken with equal parts grief and guilt. 'How could I have let myself get this way?'

Silverfox reached out a smooth, long-fingered hand, and swept the damp strands of hair from Firesong's face.

'That's what I hope to show you, my friend,' Silverfox said quietly. 'Your hands are burned by more than just fire. Now you are willing to see it all, and undo some of the harm you have done to yourself. Now you are ready. But it was a very near thing, and you must never forget it.'

The kestra'chern stood up and offered his hand. Still burdened by the firebird and shaken by all that had just happened, Firesong took it. Darkwind and Elspeth stepped aside, their expressions sympathetic, and let them pass.

Silverfox led him into his own room, and sat him down on the bed. The kestra'chern sat beside him, though he made no move to touch him.

'Now rest a while, and listen to me carefully,' Silverfox told him. 'I will try to explain some of what has happened, but it may be complex. Be patient and open, and I will explain it all. Do you remember how the mage- storms affected you before they were stopped?'

He nodded, as Aya tucked his soft-feathered head beneath his chin.

'They affect every mage, but they do more to you than you were aware, you or anyone else. You are a Healing Adept; you are attuned to the way that magic affects the land around you, but not only are you sensitive to it, magic that affects the land will cause changes in you.' He paused to see if Firesong understood, and continued at his nod of surprise. 'That is why I am here; we found evidence in the records from the days of Skandranon that the same thing happened to one or two other mages of his era during the unsettled time after the Cataclysm, and it took them years to discover what had unbalanced previously rational people. The Vales have all been warned. I came here, in part to see if any of you had been affected, because the changes are subtle and not particularly obvious. That is only part of what happened to you; you are ill, Firesong, but it is an illness that few Healers would sense unless they knew what to look for. There are subtle changes physically in your brain rather than your mind. They have made you quick to anger, slow to reason They are things that make you see enemies and conspiracies where there are none.'

Firesong croaked, 'So,' and then swallowed twice to steady his voice. 'So... my own body and brain are no better off than the land.'

Silverfox nodded and interlaced his fingers. 'Thus and so. But there are other things; patterns of thought you have established that are your own doing, though these changes made them worse.'