Both breathed hard from sprinting.
Vree, who had been sunning in the falls area of the Vale, shot overhead, alert for new danger. He abruptly sideslipped and landed in a tree outside the threshold, and sent a mental query, followed by a wordless message of support when he sensed how distraught his bondmate was.
Darkwind waved to warn Vree away, then began running toward a particular remote corner of the Vale-a place where he had sensed, not only the remains of burned-out power, but something more. The kind of emptiness only a Final Strike left behind.
Death.
Someone had died protecting Starblade, and given that it was a powersignature he didn't recognize, he was horribly certain he knew who that someone was.
Hoofbeats gained behind him and Gwena and Elspeth drew up just ahead of him. Elspeth's hand was open to him, and he grasped it and vaulted up onto Gwena's back. Together, they rode crouched, into the far reaches of the Vale. Gwena sprinted and stooped, dodging trees, limbs, and other obstacles. The lush, relaxing decorations of the Vale were now clinging distractions; Gwena could only make speed in clearings.
They were overtaken within moments. Gwena dove off the trail in time to avoid being trampled by Firesong's white dyheli, who streaked past them, lightning-fast and surefooted. The stag bore Firesong clinging bareback, and behind them flew the firebird, streaming controlled false-sparks of agitation along the flowing length of its tail.
By the time Darkwind, Gwena, and Elspeth reached their goal, Firesong was lifting the body of Tre'valen in his arms as if it weighed nothing, his face utterly blank and expressionless. Firesong's complexion had turned ashen; the firebird clutched at his shoulder and chittered angrily, then fixed its eyes on Tre'valen's lifeless face and went silent.
Firesong looked from Darkwind to Elspeth and back again, but said nothing. There was a chill in his eyes that made Darkwind reluctant to say anything. Elspeth stifled a sob behind her clenched fist; Gwena moved away, stepping backward very deliberately.
Firesong stalked carefully between them, eyes focused straight ahead.
He carried his dreadful burden out of the clearing and into the depths of the Vale, without saying a single word to either of them.
Darkwind's thoughts seethed with anger. He killed Tre'valen. He shielded the Stone and not my father, and Tre'valen died for it. And he knows it, the arrogant bastard. Why? Why did he shield the damned Stone?
He saw the strike coming before I did-he knew what was going to happen!
'Darkwind-your father,' Elspeth said urgently, recalling to him the other casualties in this catastrophe.
'Gods-' he said, despairingly, and headed off at a run again, in the opposite direction that Firesong had taken. The ekele was not that far, but it seemed hundreds of leagues away as he hurtled through the foliage, taking a narrow shortcut. Branches whipped at his face, leaving places that stung until his eyes watered. His lungs ached, his legs felt as unsteady as willow twigs. But there was no time, no time-Despite the fact that it seemed an eternity since the attack, he and Elspeth reached Starblade's home moments ahead of the rest of the mages of k'sheyna. Hyllarr was shrieking alarm and outrage to the entire Vale.
Darkwind pounded up the steps of the ekele and burst into the main room, and stepped back, shocked by the destruction.
Starblade was sprawled inelegantly across the floor, with Kethra lying atop him in an attitude of protection. He was awake, if dazed; she was not moving. Elspeth pushed past him and reached for Kethra, levering her off the k'sheyna Adept so that Darkwind could get to his father.
She slipped and steadied, after a floorboard shifted under her. All the wood in the room was splintered; moisture covered every part that was not patched in frost. Very little was intact within four arm's spans of Starblade and Kethra; the floor and walls were warped and cracked. This ekele could not possibly be livable again.
Hyllarr quieted as soon as they entered the room, though he continued to shift from one foot to the other, crooning anxiously and craning his neck to watch what they were doing. He came as far as the outer edge of the ice, then waited.
Starblade blinked up at his son, and tried to rise; Darkwind decided that it would be better to help him onto the couch than try to prevent him from moving. Starblade's fingers showed signs of frostbite.
'Falconsbane,' Starblade murmured, bringing a trembling hand up to his eyes. 'That touch again-filthy-' He shuddered, and Darkwind got him lying back against a heap of pillows, then ran to fetch water and cups from the far side of the ekele.
One cup he handed to Elspeth, who had managed to get Kethra into a sitting position. The other he handed to his father, who seized it in shaking hands and drained it as if it contained the water of life itself.
Darkwind daubed his fingers into the pitcher and traced wet fingers across his father's brow and eyes and blew gently, an old mage's technique to help focus concentration.
'What happened?' he asked, as Starblade closed his eyes and lay back again, the lines of pain in his face even more pronounced than ever before.
'I am not certain,' Starblade faltered. 'It was Falconsbane-he tried my defenses.' His face mirrored his confusion and his fear, the fear that he had once again betrayed his Clan.
'It seems he could not break them,' Darkwind reminded him. 'The beast could not take you, Father. His hold over you is gone forever-do you see?' Starblade shook his head, though not in negation. 'I-he attacked.
Kethra tried to protect us both.' He propped himself up onto one elbow, with obvious effort, and looked around.
'She's in shock,' Elspeth said calmly. 'She needs a lot of rest, and she needs her energies restored. But I'm sure she's going to be all right.' By now, they had an audience, but only Iceshadow pushed through to join them. He went first to Kethra, then to Starblade, and seeing that they were only badly shaken and depleted, shook his head.
'It is strange,' Iceshadow said in puzzlement. 'There was no time for any of us to have protected them. Yet
