The Silver Gryphon

who has to remind himself not to use it.

That left the next possibility; it was something new, or else something that was outside his knowledge. He inexorably moved his thoughts toward the uneasy concept that something had brought them down intentionally, either in an attack or as a measure of preventive defense.

But if it was a defensive measure, how did they ever see us from the ground? The attack couldn’t have come from the air; there hadn’t been anything in the air except birds and themselves. It hadn’t come from the tree canopy, or he would have seen something directly below. It had to have come from ground level, below the tree canopy, so how had “they” seen the basket, Blade, and Tad?

Still, so far, whatever brought them down hadn’t come after them; that argued in favor of it being a defensive, perhaps even a reflexive, answer to a perceived threat.

But it happened so quickly! Unless “they” had a spell actually ready to do something like that, I can’t see how “they” could have done this before we got out of range!

That argued for an attack; argued for attackers who might actually have trailed them some time before they landed last night, and waited for them to get into the sky again before launching a spell that would send them crashing to the ground.

So why didn’t they come see if they’d killed us? Could they have been that sure of themselves? Could they simply not have cared?

Or could they be better at hiding themselves than he was at spotting them?

Could they be out there right now?

It was certainly possible that the attackers had struck from some distance away, and had not reached the site of the crash before he and Blade were up, alert, and able to defend themselves. The kind of attack certainly argued for a cowardly opponent, one who would want to wait until his prey was helpless or in an inescapable position before striking.

Unless, of course, he is simply a slow opponent; one who was making certain of every inch of ground between himself and us before he initiated a confrontation.

He sighed quietly. There was only one problem; this was all speculation. None of this gave him any hard evidence for or against anything. He just didn’t have any facts beyond the simplest—that they had been the victim of something that destroyed their holds on magic and brought them tumbling helplessly down out of the sky.

So, for the rest of the night, he continued to scan the forest and keep his ears wide open, starting at every tiny sound, and cursing his unending headache.

Dawn was heralded by nothing more obvious than a gradual lightening of the darkness under the trees. Tad knew that his partner was about to waken when her breathing speeded up and her heartrate increased—both of which he could hear quite easily. At his side, Blade yawned, stirred, started to stretch, and swore under her breath at the pain that movement caused her.

Tad hooked a talon around the strap of the medical supply bag and dragged it over to her so she could rummage in it without moving much. She heard him, and shoved her hand in and pulled out one of the little vials; without being asked, he pierced the wax seal with his talon, and she drank it down.

Blade lay quietly for many long moments before her painkillers took effect. “I assume nothing happened last night?” She made it an inquiry.

“Nothing worth talking about—except that I think there was some squabbling over the remains of the foodstuffs.” He hadn’t heard anything in particular except a few grunts and the sound of an impact, as if one of the scavengers had cuffed another. “We ought to consider putting out snares, especially whipsnares that would take a catch out of reach of the ground. It would be very frustrating to discover we’d trapped something, but a scavenger beat us to it.”

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with her good hand. “I should have thought of that last night,” she said ruefully.

“They wouldn’t have worked last night,” he pointed out. “It was raining until well after dark. Chances are, the lines would have been ruined, or stakes pulled out of the mud. If it doesn’t rain that badly today, we can put them out after the afternoon rains are over.”

She yawned again, then grimaced and gingerly rubbed her bruised jaw. “Good idea,” she agreed. “Snares are a more efficient means of getting us supplemental rations than hunting. We’ll trap the area where I dumped the ruined food. Even if there’s nothing left, animals still might come back hoping there will be. Oh, gods, I am stiff and sore!”

“I know precisely how you feel. I saved us some breakfast.” He scraped away the ashes and revealed the cakes, now a bit crisper than they had been, and a bit grimier, but still edible. I wish I had some bruise medicine that would work as well on me as hers does on her.