as if conjured, and Darkwind helped the Adept up onto the stag's back at his direction. 'My hertasi are waiting,' Firesong had whispered, from under a curtain of sweat-soaked hair. 'I told them what to expect, what I would require. Thank you for helping me.'
'Shall I get some other help?' Darkwind had asked, uncertainly.
The curtain of hair had shaken a faint negative. 'They know what to do. It is their ancient function. I shall be well enough in a day or so.' Darkwind had nodded and stepped back, letting the dyheli bear his burden away.
And Firesong had been well enough in a day, making a recovery that seemed little short of miraculous to anyone who had seen him the day before. It seemed he had recovery skills as remarkable as his other skills.
Darkwind and Elspeth had taken another turn as border guardians, with both of them expecting trouble from Falconsbane at any moment.
But no trouble came, nothing more than some odd glimpses of shadow riders, who could have been little more than nerves and an overactive imagination. Certainly they left no traces on the fresh snow. At the end of that day, they had returned to find Firesong waiting for them. fully restored.
'Tomorrow,' he had said. 'It must be tomorrow. Starblade and ethra are not as strong as I would like, but Nyara is afraid that with every passing day, it becomes more likely that her father will strike again. Need agrees, and I will not underestimate Falconsbane again if I can help it. I will go to instruct the gryphons this evening, and we shall gather on the morrow.' Darkwind still did not know exactly what passed between Firesong and the gryphons, but it must have been interesting. Hydona would surely have met his young arrogance with an arrogance of her own, and Treyvan would have deflated Firesong with a few well-chosen comments.
Nevertheless, here they were, calmly prepared to do what they must.
And in the center of the circle, ready to strike when all was prepared-Firesong and Need.
The young Adept looked carefully at each one of his chosen pairs, meeting the eyes of each of them in turn. Darkwind brought his chin up and nodded in answer to that unspoken challenge, and Elspeth showed the ghost of a feral smile. What Firesong saw must have convinced him that they were ready, for he nodded.
'Let us begin,' he said simply, with no elaborate speeches. There was no need for speeches, after all. They all knew what they were to do, they had drilled together as much as they could. If they were not ready now, nothing anyone could say would make any difference.
Darkwind already held Elspeth's physical hand; now he held out a mental hand, and felt her take it firmly, but without clutching. He let the power build between them for a moment, then he bent his attention though not his eyes) to the left, where his father and Kethra stood.
Elspeth turned hers to the right.
He sensed Kethra building the power between herself and Starblade; then having secured her ground, she bent her attention to him, and he held out another 'hand' to her. She took it, fumbling a bit at first, then her 'grip' firmed. It was the clasp of a warrior, for all that she was a Healer.
'But a Healer fights for the lives of her patients, does she not? As much a warrior as a bladesman.' Kethra said lightly; then she braced herself to make their bond as strong as possible.
On the right, he sensed Treyvan catching Elspeth's extended 'hand.' At that moment, the circle trembled for a heartbeat, until all the powers within it found their balance points. Male and female, human and gryphon, old and young; earth, air, fire, and water; Tayledras, Valdemaran, Shin'a'in, far-traveler...Then the unexpected; when the balance came, it brought with it a sense of wholeness and astonished joy, a lift to his spirits like nothing he had felt since the Heartstone shattered. He saw his surprise mirrored in Kethra's eyes; felt it in the trembling of Elspeth's physical hand in his. He wanted to shout, to laugh, to sing-this was how magery should be! This marvelous feeling of rightness!
Movement at the center of the circle caught his attention, and he looked up for a moment at Firesong. The young Adept was smiling, his eyes alight-and somehow Darkwind knew that the wholeness, the joy, came from him.
Was this how Firesong felt every time he worked magic? No wonder it was effortless for him... no wonder he was willing to exhaust himself, drain himself to nothing, if this was his reward.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Darkwind wondered if he would ever feel this way again-knew he never would-and at the same time, knew there would always be a little of this whenever he worked a spell.
The touch of the Healer Adept had given that much to him.
The eight of them bound themselves ever closer, with Elspeth weaving their power around and about the circle until it was no longer a circle, but a shell of energy as precise as a porcelain egg, as strong as swordsteel.
Firesong began to tap his foot. He could not bring a drum into the circle, for he could not use it and Need at the same time-but standing just behind Starblade and well within the danger area was Nyara. She caught Firesong's rhythm, and began to drum with a skill Darkwind had not suspected of her. Darkwind picked up the rhythm within a few beats, moving his legs and loosening up; the others followed upon it.
The stamping of his feet was enough like a dance that his own magic gained in strength; and where Elspeth's lightweaving gave their construct form, his dancing gave it movement, making it dance, so that there were no weak places, and no places holding still long enough to be weakened by an attack.
He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the rhythm; sensing Elspeth holding firm beside him. Sensing Firesong waiting, poised above the waiting Stone, choosing his moment-Then, he struck.
Need rang as she impacted the Heartstone pointfirst, but instead of the shriek of agony that Darkwind had expected, there came a single bell-like tone.
The sound filled the air and filled his soul; carried all other sounds away, drowning them, and he sensed that they must contain it, or it would ring through the Vale and shatter everything in its path.
Nyara threw herself into the drumming, and though he could no longer hear it, he felt it. He threw all of his power and will into the effort of holding-holding-holding until he thought he must fall.
He felt himself faltering, felt the circle faltering. He steeled himself and poured more energy in. He sensed a change in the tone.
