The Adept had managed to extract himself from it before it closed convulsively and vanished with a little pop, but it had clearly been a near thing. They had afforded him a bit of a thrill. Ever since then he had guided them through a refinement of this technique; honing it down and making a weapon of it. Sometimes making a real weapon of it; Darkwind Felt something beginning to form before him. Firesong was about to create an enemy for them to face-a very real enemy, for all that it was made of mage-energy.
He changed his steps, and Felt the light above him weaving into a protection. And he sensed Firesong's surprise. He guessed that Firesong had intended Elspeth to weave a mage-blade, or even two, for them to fight with. But Elspeth had her own ideas. Perhaps the weariness of his dance steps had told her that defense would be better than offense.
Whatever; he followed the pattern she sketched, and the power wove about them into an hourglass-shaped flow, a double-lobed shield, and the fire-creature Firesong had conjured hissed about the outside in frustration, unable to burn a way through. Since the walls of energy flowed, it could not focus its flames on any one place long enough to do any significant damage; the lances of energy dissipated and swirled, but did not burn through.
It sends out extensions of itself, as tongues of flame. Hmm. I think I can work with that.
The next time the creature attacked, Darkwind changed his steps. The protection suddenly became 'sticky,' if energy could be sticky.
An attractant, perhaps. Whatever the name of his defense might be, Darkwind caught the tongue of the creature's energy, and before Firesong had a chance to react, he spun the fire-shape into his shields, integrating it and making its power his.
The drumming stopped; Darkwind danced on for a moment, letting the power return into the flow of the ley- line beneath them, rather than permitting it to drain away into the air to hang like lightning threatening to strike. Then he stopped and opened his eyes, to gaze somewhat defiantly at their instructor.
'That was not at all a bad solution,' Firesong said, calmly. 'Not what I had in mind, but not at all bad.'
'Darkwind couldn't have fought that thing off,' Elspeth said flatly, with no inflection at all. 'He was already exhausted from everything else you'd sent at us today.'
'So you improvised a defense and solution in one; I like that.' Firesong smiled at Elspeth, and Darkwind fought down a surge of irrational anger. 'The Shin'a'in say-when you do not like the fight, change the rules. I have often found that to be a useful solution.' Firesong looked no more weary than if he had just taken a fast walk across the Vale. Not a hair was out of place, nor a thread of clothing, for all of his furious drumming.
I should have known. Perfect, as always.
As Darkwind had anticipated, Firesong had been-very popular among the k'sheyna, human and non. Power and beauty are both powerful attractants, and Firesong had both in abundance. He, in return, accepted the attentions as only his due-and his devotees seemed to find his very insolence appealing.
Including Elspeth.
And as for the hertasi-well, his borrowed ekele swarmed with them.
He would not even have had to dress, feed, or bathe himself if he had chosen otherwise. Perhaps he hadn't.
Now, Darkwind, your claws are showing.
But how could he have gone through this past training session without a hair out of place?
Because he's a greater mage, a greater Adept, than you or anyone in your Clan has ever seen, that's how. He's likely enhanced his endurance for year upon year. Elspeth and the rest are perfectly right to admire him. And there is nothing wrong with him being proud of himself and what he can do...'I think that you are near to ready,' Firesong said, standing up, and putting the drum away in the elaborate padded chest he used as a seat.
'You work remarkably well together. We can begin planning what we will be doing with your rogue Stone tomorrow, hmm?' Darkwind nodded, but Firesong wasn't done yet. Elspeth headed straight out of the clearing, going for the hot spring and a long soak, but Firesong caught Darkwind by the elbow before he had a chance to leave.
'There is trouble between you and the Outlander,' he said, making it a statement rather than a question. Darkwind couldn't meet his eyes, nor could he say anything. 'There are also thorns between you and me.
Darkwind faced him, resentment smoldering. 'Nothing I cannot deal with,' he said-keeping himself from snarling.
Firesong gave him a most peculiar look as he retook his position on the padded chest. He crossed his legs and intertwined his slender fingers across one knee.
Then he spoke.
'Darkwind, I have been working magery since I was barely able to walk,' the Adept said slowly. 'My hair was white by the time I was ten. I have ever had a fearsome example to live up to, for my great-greatmanytimes- great-grandfather was one Herald Vanyel Ashkevron out of Valdemar. Even as Elspeth's was, though she knows it not.'
'But-' Darkwind was surprised he managed to get that much out, stunned as he was, '-how?'
'A long tale, which I shall make as short as I may.' The Adept held up his hand, and his firebird came winging out of the tree cover above, a streak of white and gold lightning that alighted haughtily on his wrist.
'This is the tradition, as it was handed down from Brightstar's fosterparents, Moondance and Starwind. One of k'treva wished a child and there was no one in the Clan she favored. Moondance and Starwind also longed to be parents. Vanyel was well favored by all within the Clan, and consented to be father to twins, one of whom was my forefatherg Brightstar. But in Valdemar, also longing for a child, was the King's Own and lover of the Monarch, Shavri. Vanyel obliged her in part so that it would seem that Randale was able to father children, which he was not. That child, Jisa, wedded the next Monarch, Treven, a cousin of the King, and from that line of descent springs yon Outlander.
Firesong chuckled at Darkwind's expression.
I must look like a stunned ox.
