Winds Of Fury

Tre'valen nodded :A good point.:

:Besides,: An'desha continued, :He is a blood-path mage. Ancar will have none about him who are not blood-path mages. These men - they are all men, but Hulda - are evil, foul, and the only reason they are not as foul as Falconsbane himself is because they have fewer years, less power, and less imagination. Witting sacrifice is one thing - :

:You have no argument from me, youngling,: Tre'valen said, hastily :You are right; we cannot trust or foster blood-path mages. It would be obscene.:

An'desha wished he had some way to make notes of what he wished to tell the Avatars; he always had the feeling he was going to forget something important!

:There is only one other thing,: he said finally :Falconsbane would never do anything to aid either Hulda or Ancar because he hates them both, so he is fostering the friction between them. I have been trying to make him think this is a good idea. Am I doing rightly?:

This time Tre'valen chuckled :Anything you can do to bring confusion to this nest of kresh'ta will be welcome, youngling. You are doing rightly, indeed.:

The fire popped loudly, and Falconsbane stirred uneasily. He was about to wake.

:Farewell!: Dawnfire said hastily -

 - and the Avatars were gone, in the space of an eyeblink.

An'desha withdrew as well, to watch and wait.

Falconsbane stirred as the fire popped again, sending a coal onto the hearth. He opened his eyes, and the coal glared at him from the hearthstone, a baleful fiery eye. He was vaguely aware that there had been something else that had disturbed his sleep but was unable to identify it.

With what had become a habit, he cursed his captor for the clumsy, too-restrictive spells that were making it harder and harder to think or react properly. If that idiot Ancar were only half the mage he thought he was - !

And as if the thought had summoned him, footsteps in the hall heralded Ancar's arrival.

As usual, he burst through the door with no warning and no consideration, as if Falconsbane, like the rooms themselves, was his own personal property. And as usual, he squinted against the perpetual darkness that Falconsbane cloaked himself and his apartment in, a darkness that Falconsbane enhanced with a touch of magery. If the little brat could not learn to announce himself, then Falconsbane would not make it easy for him to fling himself into the suite at will!

'Falconsbane?' Ancar said, peering around the room, and looking, as usual, for a form in one of the hearthside chairs. 'Ah - there you are!'

Mornelithe sighed, as Ancar flung himself into the other chair. At least the child didn't have the nerve to order him to stand! 'I am very fatigued, Majesty,' he said, making no effort to mask the boredom in his voice. 'What is it that you require of me this time? I fear that no matter what it is, I have little energy to spare for it.'

In fact, he was lying; after disposing of a pair of Ancar's political prisoners, he was very nearly at full strength. Granted, he did seem to be sleeping a great deal, but that could be accounted for by the damages he had taken and the coercions he was under. Those things affected the mind and the body, and he did not wish to spare the energy needed to fight the coercions when he might use that same energy to break Ancar.

So far as pure mage-energy, rather than physical energy, was concerned, he felt confident that there was very little he couldn't do - if he had not been so hedged about with Ancar's controlling spells.

But he was certainly not going to tell Ancar that.

'I just received word from the border with Valdemar,' Ancar blurted, in a state of high excitement. Falconsbane was taken aback by the level of that excitement, the tight anticipation in Ancar's voice. The youngster was as taut as a harpstring! 'The barrier against magic is gone. I am calling a council of mages; how long until you to feel up to joining it?'

Gone? That unbreakable, stubborn barrier was gone? Falconsbane's interest stirred, in spite of himself, and his attempt to maintain a pose of indifference and exhaustion. 'Not long, a matter of moments - ' he began, cautiously, trying to collect his thoughts.

'Good. Come along, then. The walk will wake you up.' Ancar sprang to his feet, and Falconsbane fought being pulled out of his chair. Not physically, but via magic, as the young King used his spells to attempt to make Mornelithe rise and follow him. Both the exercise of the coercions and Falconsbane's resistance were automatic. Like the response of a plant to light, or the strike of a snake at prey.

Then he abandoned his struggle, and permitted the King to force his reluctant body to obey. After all, what