Storm Breaking

'Hardly. I would simply congratulate you on your intelligence,' she replied promptly. 'The only question I have is why stage these obstacle things at all? There are other ways of keeping you all in fighting trim.'

'Because we must. Our hierarchy changes as the results of the contests change, and as our own ranking changes, so will the rankings of our various counties. And that, at year's end, will decree where discretionary tax funds are spent.' Just as he made that surprising assertion, Tremane joined them, relatively anonymous in a plain brown soldier's cloak with the hood pulled up against the bite of the cold wind. Tashiketh did not turn his head or appear to notice, but a few moments later, he addressed the King directly.

'So, King of Hardorn, I am given to understand that you are exceedingly curious about my people. I finally have leave to answer your questions, for you have proven yourself to be an honorable ally and worthy to hear the full tale of our land.' Now Tashiketh moved his head to gaze into Tremane's astonished face with mild eyes. 'Ask,' he said. 'The time for secrets is past.'

Whatever Tremane's faults, an inability to think quickly was not one of them. 'Darkwind k'Sheyna believes that your people were descended from one part of the armies of the mage his people served, specifically the one called Urtho,' he said. 'Are you?'

Tashiketh laughed, a deep rumble that came from somewhere down in the bottom of his chest, and he roused his fathers with a shake. 'Yes. The shortest version of the tale is this. Our several Peoples were all serving the Third Army. Urtho made it his policy to group all the folk of a particular land into one Army, rather than dividing all of them amongst his Armies. However, the humans of the Third, serving a God who decreed that those who had magic power should be His priests, had no mages of their own. They had no prejudice against working with those of other faiths, and so had a group of mages assigned to them, mages who had nothing whatsoever m common with them, not even nationality. Also attached to the Third were a wing of gryphons with their trondi'irn, a pack of kyree, a surge of ratha, a knot of tyrill, and a charge of dyheli.'

What am I hearing? Tyrill? Ratha? How did they get into this story?

'And these are your Peoples of Iftel?' Tremane asked.

'What is a ratha?' Darkwind asked, at the same moment.

Tashiketh wasn't the least perturbed by being bombarded with questions. 'These are our Peoples, yes. Ratha are from the far north, and are to the mountain cats what kyree are to wolves. Tyrill I think you know already. Brother- To-Hawks.'

'Only by legend,' Darkwind replied, feeling a bit dazed. ''They were one of Urtho's last creations. a larger race of hertasi, and there weren't many of them.'

'But, oh, they breed with such enthusiasm!' Tashiketh laughed, tossing his head so that the freshening wind ruffled his feathers. Behind him, another cheer rose (together with some groans) as one of the other gryphons did something clever. 'They learned it from us gryphons. There are plenty of them now! Well, to make this as brief as possible, the Third, whose emblem I wear, was cut off from Ka'venusho at the time of retreat. They chose to Gate to the remotest place the mages could think of, hoping they would be beyond the reach of Ma'ar and the destruction that would ensue when Urtho's Tower was destroyed by its master. But there was a problem.'

'Not enough power,' Tremane guessed shrewdly.

'Nowhere safe to go?' asked Elspeth.

'No Adepts,' hazarded Darkwind.

'A little of all three. the Ambassador explained. 'Their Priests—the humans—had remained behind in their own land to protect their people. The only Adept with them strong enough to raise a far-away Gate was someone who, at the time, was thought to be a barbarian shaman from the far north. They had to go to the remotest place he knew of—his home, not the gryphons' home, nor that of their human charges, not anywhere near it. There wasn't much choice; they took the escape that was offered, ending in the north of what is now Iftel. They thought to wait out the destruction, then be reunited with the others. But no sooner had they all gotten across, then something terrible happened, worse by far than anything they had expected.'

'The Cataclysm,' Darkwind said aloud. 'The Tower and Ma'ar's stronghold destroyed, and the interaction of the double release of terrible forces.'

'And needless to say, they did not know the cause for many years. They only knew that things were impossible, that there would be no way to find their friends and fellows, that there would be no way for the humans of the Third to find their way home. And almost as bad, it soon became obvious that they had not gone far enough; they ran into a fresh Army of Ma'ar's.' Tashiketh shook his head. 'It must have seemed as if they had come to the end of the world, that everything evil had won against them, and was about to annihilate them. Battered by the mage-storms that followed, on the verge of attack by superior forces, and unable because of the high number of wounded to travel to someplace where they might escape the worst of the effects, they did the only thing they had left to do. The humans prayed to their god, Vykaendys—'

That name struck Darkwind like a blow to the head. 'Who?' Darkwind blurted, as Elspeth's eyes widened.