Winds Of Fate

*Chapter Twenty one ELSPETH

The sky burned blue, but eight hooves pounded their own frantic thunder on the earth of the Plains; grass stems lashed their legs and the barrels of the Companions as they fled. Elspeth risked a look back, her hair whipping into her face and making her eyes water. The pack of fluid brown shapes streaming through the grasses behind them seemed a little closer. It was hard to tell for certain; they were visible only as a flowing darkness in the grasses, and the movement of the vegetation as they disturbed it. Then the lead beast leapt up, showing its head, and she was sure of it.

"They're gaining on us!" she shouted at Skif. He looked back, then bent farther down over Cymry's neck like a jockey. She did the same, trying to cut her wind resistance.

The Companions were running as fast as they could-which was very fast, indeed. The ground flowed beneath their hooves at such a rate that after one look that made her dizzy, she kept her eyes fixed ahead. She could not imagine how any creature could be capable of keeping up with them. It seemed impossible that they could be moving this fast.

"What are these things?" she asked Gwena who flattened her ears a little more and rolled her eyes back at her rider.

"I don't know," the Companion replied, bewildered. "I've never heard of anything like them." Sweat streamed down her outstretched neck, and the ends of her mane lashed Elspeth's face and got into her mouth.

"I have," the sword cut in gruffly. "Damn things are magical constructs; beasts put together by an Adept. Probably all they're good for is running." Elspeth looked back again, nervously. The pack leader gave another of those jumps, that took it briefly above the level of the grass stalks; this time showing its head clearly. Its mouth was open, its tongue out like a dog's. All she really saw were the jaws, a mouth full of thumblength fangs.

"Well-running and killing," Need amended. "whatever, they're not of a type I've seen before. that makes them twice as dangerous; I can't tell you what they're capable of."

"Thanks," Elspeth muttered under her breath. She peered ahead, wishing there was any way she could use her distance-viewer. Somewhere on the cliff ahead of them-hopefully somewhere near-was a path like the one they had descended. This trail was next to a waterfall, and she strained her eyes for a glimpse of water streaming down the side of the cliff into the Plains. If they could reach that path, they could probably hold the things off. They might be able to climb it faster than the beasts could; certainly they would be able to hold the narrow trail against their pursuers if they turned to stand at bay.

At the top of that path lay the place circled on the map. Whether or not there was any help for them there-The Companions were getting tired. How long could they keep this pace up Her nose caught the scent of water as they topped a rise, just as she saw the line of green, a line of verdant trees and bushes, at the edge of a long slope, down below them. There was a glint of reflected light from the cliff; she assumed that was the promised waterfall.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and set loose her Farsight; looking for a place to make a stand. There wasn't much else she could do at the moment, other than make certain she was in no danger of being tossed off if Gwena had to make a sudden move.

Nothing at the bottom of the cliff; no, that was definitely no place to make a stand. The waterfall splashed down onto rocks right beside the beginning of the trail; the rocks were wet and slippery, marginal for booted feet, treacherous for hooves. In fact, the entire path was like that, winding beneath the waterfall at times, skirting the edge of it at others. This was not a straight fall; the water dropped through a series of basins and down many tumbles of rocks, keeping spray to a minimum. It might almost have been sculpted that way, and the path appeared to be an afterthought, cut into the stone around the fall as best as could be.

The path was narrow, too narrow to allow more than one rider at a time. She scanned the entire length of it, and found no place wide enough for the four of them to hold off their followers. If they made a stand, it would have to be at the top.

So she turned her Farsight to the top-and there, at last, was the shelter she had been searching for.

There were ruins up there; tumbles of massive rocks, identifiable only as ruins because of the regular size and shape of the stones, and the general shapes of what might once have been walls. Right where the path reached the top, there was a good place to hole up.

There's magic there," Need said suddenly, looking through Elspeth's eyes."

"Do you see that kind of shimmer? That's magic energy. With luck I can use it to help with defense."

"I don't intend to get close enough to those things to have to use a blade," Elspeth retorted.

"Dunce. I didn't mean for you to fight. I mean to channel my magic through you. I was a fairly good mage. You may even learn something."

Elspeth felt stunned. "I thought you only protected-"

:That was when I was asleep,: the sword said shortly :why don't you see what you can do about picking off some of those beasts? Maybe if you kill one, the others will stop to eat it.: Well, it was worth trying. The long slope gave the Companions some relief; though tiring, they were running with a bit less strain. Gwena's coat was still sweat-foamed, but her breathing beneath Elspeth's legs was easier.

Elspeth pulled her bow from the saddle sheath; freed an arrow from the quiver at her knee. She clamped her legs tight around Gwena's barrel, and turned, sitting up a little higher in her saddle as she did so.

The leader of the pack had a peculiar bounding rhythm to his chase; it Was, she discovered, rather like sighting on a leaping hare. And she had done that so many times she had lost count; hunting had been one of the few ways she could escape the Palace and her rank and position.

Although I wish I had a hawk right now to set on them. A big hawk. With long, long talons...

The leader's bound carried him below the grass; she nocked and loosed-and he leapt right into the arrow's path.

Soundless they were on the chase; soundlessly he fell, and he fell right under the feet of his pack. Whether or not they would-as Need had so gruesomely suggested-stop to eat him, it didn't matter. At least not at the moment, not while at least half the pack tumbled over the body of the leader, and the rest stopped their headlong chase to mill aimlessly around the dead and the fallen.

She nocked and loosed another arrow, and a third, both finding targets, before Gwena carried her out of range. Never once did any of those she hit utter a single sound.

:Good work,: the Companion said, without slowing. :That should buy us some time.:

:Assuming something else doesn't take their place, or join them,: the sword pointed out grimly. :I hate to say this, but I do sense things stirring; energies being disturbed, and some kind of communication going on that I can't read. I'm afraid we're going to have something else on our trail before long.: She didn't say what she was thinking; it wasn't as if Need had willfully called these things up. "Will we have a chance to get up on that path first?"

"I think we'll make it up to the top. But there's more trouble up there. It's at the border of a bad area, and it has its own energies that are reacting to the changes elsewhere. I think you should know that disturbance brings predators and scavengers alike." Well, that was no more than the law of nature. She sheathed the bow again and looked back down their trail. There was nothing immediately in sight.

But there was a dark golden clot of something on the horizon, something tall enough to be visible above the grass, and it was coming closer.

She rather doubted it was a herd of Shin'a'in goats.

The scent of water was stronger; she turned to face forward. The belt of greenery was near enough now to make out individual trees and bushes, and the waterfall dashed down the side of the cliff with a careless gaiety she wished she shared.

She knew what awaited them and held Gwena back a little to let Skif shoot ahead of her. Cymry's headlong pace slowed as she met the slippery rocks of the trail. Gwena's shoulders bunched beneath Elspeth's knees as she prepared to make the climb.

The scramble up the trail was purest nightmare. If it had not been that the Companions were far more surefooted than the Heralds were, and far, far faster even on footing this treacherous, she would have stopped to dismount. As it was, she clung to the saddle with legs and both hands, drenched with water spray and her own sweat of fear. If she dared, she would have closed her eyes. Gwena skidded and slipped on the spray-slick rocks; she went to her knees at least once for every switchback, and there seemed to be hundreds of those. Every time Gwena lurched sideways, Elspeth lurched with her-further unbalancing the Companion and hindering her recovery. The only good thing was that the slower pace enabled Gwena to catch her breath again.

Ahead, Cymry and Skif were in no better shape. That presented a second danger, that they might lose their balance and careen into Gwena and Elspeth, sending all four of them to their deaths.

Gwena might have read her mind; the Companion stopped for a moment, sides heaving, to let Cymry put a little more distance between them. She stood with her head hanging, breathing deeply, extracting everything she could from the brief rest.

Elspeth used the respite to peer through the spray, down to the foot of the trail.

The entire trail was visible from this vantage point, and there was nothing on it except them. Yet. But peering up at her-at least, she presumed they were peering up at her-were several creatures of a darkgold color that would have blended imperceptibly into the grasslands.

They stood out now, only because of the brilliant green of the vegetation below the waterfall. moving around them were some dark-brown slender beasts, whose fluid movements told her that the pack that had pursued them had recovered from the loss of its leader. In fact, there seemed to be more of them.

I think I know what that blot on the horizon was now. I wonder where the other'imnds " came from, though...And mingling with those creatures was something else; black, small animals that hopped rather than walked.

She guessed from their behavior that there was some kind of consultation going on. The black creatures seemed to be the ones in charge, or conveying some kind of orders. As she watched, the thin creatures arrayed themselves below the cliff, providing a kind of rear guard. The golden-brown forms lined up in an orderly fashion, and started up the path with a sinister purposefulness. And the black dots sprouted wings

and rose into the air.

Crows- she realized. Then, as they drew nearer-Dearest gods-they're so big!

They were heading straight for the Heralds. And they could do a great deal of damage with those long, sharp bills, those fierce claws.

Without being prompted by the sword, she pulled her bow again, hoping that dampness hadn't gotten to the string. She nocked and sighted, and released; and repeated the action, filling the air below her with half a dozen arrows.

Only three reached their mark, and one of those was by accident, as a crow flew into the path of one of the arrows while trying to avoid another. Of those three, one was only a wound; it passed through the nearest crow's wing, and the bird spiraled down to the earth, cawing its pain, and keeping itself aloft with frantic flaps of its good wing.

Poor as the marksmanship had been, it was enough to deter the rest of the birds. They kited off sideways, out of her arrow range; caught a thermal, and rowed through the air as fast as their wings could flap to vanish over the top of the cliff.

Gwena lurched back into motion, and Elspeth was forced to put her bow away and resume her two-handed clutch on the saddle pommel.

They were barely a third of the way to the top of the cliff and the shelter Of the ruins.

She hoped they would see that shelter-and that what awaited them at the top was not a further nest of foes.

Wherever the crows had gone, they had not managed to herd another clutch of magically-constructed creatures to the ruins to meet them. And they didn't return to harass the Heralds themselves.

Elspeth heaved a sigh of relief that was echoed by Gwena as they approached the edge of the cliff without seeing any further opposition to their progress. They reached the end of the path without meeting any other dangers than the treacherous path itself-though the last third, so high above the floor of the Plains, had put Elspeth's heart in her throat for the entire journey. She tried to use her Farsight to spy out the land ahead, but either her fear or somethi ng U: ,t.;AP f herself interfered her ability to See. She thought the way was clear, but she drew her bow againjust in case it wasn't.

They scrambled up the final switchback, with Elspeth praying that there wasn't anything lying in ambush, and found themselves on a smooth apron of masonry, uneven and weathered, with weeds growing through the cracks.

But there was no time to marvel. A new threat climbed the trail behind them-a threat that was surefooted enough to have closed the gap between them. Elspeth had not had any chance to shoot at these new followers, but they were much bigger than the first creatures that had pursued them across the Plain as well as being armored with horny plates, and she was not terribly confident that their arrows would make much of an impression on these beasts. And they were barely two switchbacks behind the Heralds.

She and Gwena pushed past Skif and scrambled for the shelter of that ruined tower-like edifice she had Seen. He followed right on Gwena's crupper; the Companions' hooves rang on the stone in perfect rhythm, sounding like one single horse.

They reached the shelter of the stones just barely ahead of their pursuers; the first of the creatures came over the edge of the cliff as they whisked into a narrow cleft between two standing walls, a cleft just wide enough for the two of them, or one of them and a Companion, but deep enough for several to work unhindered behind whoever held the front.

Skif and Cymry reached the cleft last, which put them in the position of initial defenders. As Elspeth threw herself from the saddle, she reached for bow-case and quiver. As she fumbled with the straps that held both in place on the saddle-skirt, the sword at her side uncoiled its power, and struck.

At her.

Her hand closed on the hilt of the blade before she was quite aware of what was happening. But as Need moved to take over the rest of her body, she fought back.

It was a brief, sharp struggle; it ended in the blade's surprised capitulation.

What in hell is wrong with you, girl?" Need shrilled in her mental "ear."

"I thought you were going to let me work magic against those things!"

"through me, not using me," she snarled back. "that's my body you're trying to take over. You didn't ask, you just tried to take." Need seemed very much taken aback. While the blade pondered, Elspeth retrieved her bow and quiver, and counted out her shots. There were depressingly few arrows left; what she had, she would have to use carefully.

"You've got a mothering-strong Mage-Gift," the blade said, as Elspeth positioned herself behind Skif, with one arrow nocked to her bowstring.

"I think if I guide you through it, we ought to be able to fend these things off long enough to give us a breathing space. Relax a little, will you?" Elspeth let down her guard, reluctantly. "that's all I need," Need said. this will be like learning how to shoot. My hands on yours, guiding. that's all. Now look, with your Farsight, below us." Elspeth obeyed, wondering if this was a waste of time. But to her amazement, there was something down there. A kind of web of light, with a bright glow where the lines all met.

"those are ley-lines; the thing in the middle is a node. Reach out and touch it. I'll help you." There was an odd sensation that was similar to that of having hands on hers; she followed the guidance of those invisible "hands," reaching out to touch-just barely touch-that bright glow.

Although her physical hands merely pointed off into the heart of the ruins, those other "hands" penetrated deeply beneath the ground-deeper, she sensed, than the Plains below them. It was not effortless.

She was sweating and trembling by the time she made contact; weakkneed with the effort, as if she had run up a second cliff trail as long as the one they had just traversed.

Then she touched this "node"-and was hit with a blast of power, as if she stood in the path of an onrushing torrent. If she could have cried out, she would have. She had never felt so entirely helpless in her life.

"Dammit-: Those invisible hands caught her; steadied her. She saw how they were holding her against the power, and altered her "stance," opening to it instead of resisting it. Opening what, she didn't know; in point of fact it "felt" like opening a door that she hadn't been aware existed.

Now instead of being swept away by the flood of power, she had become a conduit for it. It filled her, rather than overwhelming her.

"Good," the sword said, with grudging admiration. "I wasn't that quick it teetered on its hind legs. It bellowed again, then collapsed, and did not move. while its fellows began to look about confusedly, Skif darted out of cover before Elspeth could stop him. As a third arrow skimmed past him, just beyond his shoulder, and bounced off-the hide of the nearest beast, distracting it, he flung one of his throwing knives at the beast's eye. It hit squarely; the tiny knives were razor-sharp and heavy for their tiny size. The second beast threw up its head and collapsed like its brother.

Skif darted back into cover.

Before he had done more than reach the shelter of the cleft, a huge shadow passed overhead.

They both looked up, as a second shadow followed the first, and a cry, like that of an eagle, but a hundred times louder, rang out.

Dear gods-Elspeth gasped, and for one moment she could not even think.

"what-the hell-are those?" the sword asked.

Elspeth shook with nerves and fear, as the huge gryphons stooped on their pursuers. She had known, intellectually, that gryphons existed; Heralds had seen them in the sky north of Valdemar, but no one she knew had ever seen one this close.

Or at least, if they had, they'd not lived to report the fact.

For one panicked moment, she thought they had come to join the other beasts against them-and these creatures would not have the limitations of the hooved ones in prying the Heralds out of their shelter.

But they attacked the strange creatures with talons and beaks, knocking one of them entirely off the cliff, and killing another before Elspeth could react, shrieking defiance as they shredded flesh and flew off again.

Well, whatever they are, even if they aren't on our side, they aren't on their side either.

The rest of the beasts turned to defend themselves, forming a heads-out circle, and it was clear that there would be no more easy kills.

It was also clear that the gryphons were not going to give up. Nor, from the carefully placed arrows, was their still-unseen ally.

And damn if I'm going to let them do this alone. Maybe they've heard the old saying about how "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." She ran out, nocking another arrow to her bow, before Skif could grab her and haul her back to safety.

"Come on!" she shouted back at him, allowing a hint of mockery to enter her voice. "What are you waiting for? Winter?"

Elspeth rested her back against a rock, and slid down it. Skif slumped nearby, with his head hanging, his forearms propped on his bent knees,

and his hands dangling limply. There was a long shallow gash in her leg that she didn't remember getting, and another wound (a bite) on her arm that she only recalled vaguely. It was a good thing she had more clothing with her; all Whites, though, the merc outfits were filthy. She'd taken both hits after she'd run out of arrows and knives, and the damned sword had insisted on getting in close to fight hand-to-tooth, horn, whatever.

Neither wound was bleeding, and neither one hurt..."I told you. that's my doing." That was Need, still unsheathed and in her hand. It was covered in dark, sticky blood, and she had not yet regained the energy to clean it. She had the feeling that the sword wouldn't care-but if she ever put any blade in its sheath without cleaning it, she knew in her soul that Kero and Alberich would walk on air to beat her black and blue. The smug satisfaction in the sword's tone would have been annoying if she hadn't been so tired. "I let 'em bleed enough to clean 'em out, then I took care of 'em."

"Well, you were the one that was responsible for my getting hurt in the first place," she retorted, watching the gash and bite-marks Heal before her eyes. "I should think you'd take care of them-the sword muttered something about ingratitude; Elspeth ignored it.

The gryphons-and presumably the archer-had gone in pursuit of the enemy creatures once their combined attack had broken the beasts' circle and forced them into flight. Neither the Heralds nor their Companions had been in any shape to join the chase.

Gwena plodded over to Elspeth's side and nosed her arm..At least that piece of tin is useful as a Healer," the Companion observed. Are we going to find somewhere safe to rest, do you think? Someplace secure? I'd really like to go sleep for a week or so."

"Unless those gryphons saved us just to eat us themselves, I think we are," Elspeth responded, unable to muster much concern over the prospect of becoming gryphon-fodder. She had just learned the truth of something Quenten had warned her about. It took energy to use energy-and hers was spent, and overspent. Right now she was just about ready to pass out, safe or not.

But the sound of a falcon's cry made her look up; there was an enormous raptor skimming along, barely clearing the tops of the stones, winging his way out of the forest. An omen? That would be all they needed now; something more to wonder about.

For a moment, she thought it was her weary, blurring eyes that made the vegetation behind him seem to move, as if part of the forest had separated and was walking toward her. But then, the "vegetation" stepped a little farther out into the open and became a man.

Her hiss of warning brought Skif's head up, and they both struggled to their feet to meet the stranger standing, their Companions moving a little into the shadows out of immediate sight as they rose. She stood so that Need was not so obviously still in her hand; no point in looking belligerent.

He was a somber-looking young man, tall, taller than Skif, and slender. And handsome, strikingly handsome, with a sculptured face and tough, graceful body. He'd already slung his bow across his back; a longbow, much more finely-crafted than anything Elspeth had ever seen in use before. His green, gray, and brown clothing blended so well with the forest that he faded into the background every time he paused. His long hair was an odd, mottled brown that helped with the camouflage-effect considerably. As he neared, Elspeth saw that he had the same piercing, ice-blue eyes and bone structure of the Shin'a'in she had seen, though his complexion was a paler gold than theirs.

As the man drew nearer, the falcon wheeled and returned. Without looking, the stranger held out his gauntleted wrist, and the falcon-muc' larger, she realized, than any bird she had ever seen, other than, say, an eagle-dropped down gracefully to his fist, and settled itself with a flip of its wings.

That was when she finally made the connection. Dear gods-he must be one of the Hawkbrothers. She felt as if she really had stepped into the pages of a legend; first she was visited by a Shin'a'in Kal'enedral, then chased by monsters, then rescued by gryphons-and now here was a Hawkbrother, a creature out of legends so remote that she had only found references to them in Vanyel's chronicles. Moondance and Starwind, Vanyel's friends-Mages, Adepts in fact, from the Clan of k'treva.

The man paused at a polite distance from the Heralds, and frowned, as if he wasn't certain how to address them, or which of them to speak to first. She wondered if she should solve his quandary.

But before she could speak, he made up his mind. "Who are you?"

he demanded arrogantly in trade-tongue. "What are you doing in Tayledras lands? Why are you here?" And who are you to ask? I didn't see any boundary markers! She drew herself up, answering his arrogance with pride of her own. "Herald Elspeth and Herald Skif, out of Valdemar. And we were chased here by monsters, as you likely noticed," she replied stiffly, in the same language." We didn't exactly plan on it, and we didn't stop to ask directions.

Any more questions?" To her surprise, he actually started to smile, at least a little. But that was when Gwena poked her nose from behind her Chosen, and looked at him with a combination of inquiry and tentative approval. His eyes widened and, to Elspeth's amazement, he paled.

She took an involuntary step backward, and that brought Need into view. He glanced down, took a second, very surprised look, and went a little whiter.

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like Shin'a'in, but was different enough that she couldn't make out what he was saying.

It seemed to have something to do with bodily functions.

Well, as long as he'd seen the damned sword and hadn't interpreted it as hostility, she might as well put it away properly. She turned a little, fished a cleaning rag out of Gwena's saddlebag as he watched her warily, and began wiping the blade clean.

It practically cleaned itself. Then again, maybe that wasn't surprising, all things considered. The Hawkbrother mumbled something again, and she looked up as she sheathed her sword properly, and wiped off her filthy hand. "What did you say?" she asked politely, but with a touch of the same arrogance he had been showing them.

He shook his head, but he did seem to be unbending just a little.

"Never mind," he said, "It matters not. It would seem that I am to add you to the colony of Outlanders I am collecting."

"And what if we don't want to go?" she retorted, taken aback by his assumption that she would obey him without a second thought. "There are four of us and only one of you."

"This is our land you trespass on. There are four of us," he corrected mildly, as the gryphons swooped in from behind her to land at his side, the wind created by their wings as they landed making a tiny tempest that blew dust into her face and made her squint. "And ~ two of us are bigger than all of you." She tightened her jaw, refusing to be intimidated. "Is that a threat?" she snapped. "I think we might surprise you, if it is." He sighed. "No, it is not a threat; if you wish to descend to the Plains, you are free to do so. But I must tell you, there are four of us that stand guard here, I will not permit you to pass through Tayledras lands, and your escort still awaits you below the cliff. Our Shin'a'in brethren have not chosen to disperse them, and we above do not trespass upon the Plains without invitation."

"Oh," she said, deflated. "what do you know about these people?" she asked the sword.

"Not a damn thing," Need replied. "Never heard of them, and I don't recognize the language. they're either something I never ran into, or they sprang up after my time." The young man cleared his throat, delicately, recalling her attention.

I feel as if I must point out that you would not be safe from anything with that at your side." He pointed to the sword with his chin.

She raised an eyebrow and looked back at Skif. He shrugged. "I don't think we have much choice," he said quietly.

"Your friend speaks wisely," the Hawkbrother put in. "It may be your escort was attracted by you, or by the weapon you carry. It is magic, and such things are drawn by magic. I think that you would be safer in the company of two mages."

" Two mages?" boomed out a new voice. Elspeth's heart leapt right out of her body, and only Gwena's shoulder behind her kept her on her feet as her knees dissolved from a combination of startlement and fear.

"Two mages?" repeated the smaller of the gryphons. "Darrrkwind, do my earrssss decssseive me?" It talks, Elspeth thought, faintly.

The Hawkbrother-Darkwind, if the gryphon had called him by his correct name-shrugged again. "This is neither the time nor place to speak of my decisions," he replied, and turned to the Heralds. "I phrased myself poorly. I think that you have no real choice. I think you must accept my hospitality, for your own safety and the safekeeping of that which you carry. Though what the Council will say of this," he added, looking at the gryphon who had spoken, and shaking his head ruefully, "I do not care to contemplate."

The arrogance was back, an imperious quality more suited to a prince of some exotic realm than this-whatever he was. She wanted to angrily deny the fact that they needed protection of any kind, much less his.

But much as she hated to admit it, she didn't want to have to face any more bizarre monsters. Not right away, anyway.

"I think we'd better go along with him, Elspeth," Skif Mindspoke tentatively, as if he expected her to turn on him and lash him with her anger for such a suggestion. "I don't know about you, but we can't face any more without some rest. And I really would like to know a little more about what's going on around here before we go charging off on our own." He's some kind of Border Guard, she thought, though not without some resentment. It is his land. I could do with a little less of an attitude, though...She would have preferred to tell him exactly what he could do with his so-called "protection"-to tell him that she would be perfectly fine-to inform him in no uncertain terms, that whatever he thought, she had been sent here, to this very place, by those "Shin'a'in brethren" of his, and that she intended to wait here for them.

On the other hand, she had no idea why the Shin'a'in had sent her here, nor if they themselves intended to meet her. Maybe all they had meant was to put her in the hands of these Hawkbrothers...What do you think?" she asked Gwena.

"that he is right, we have no choice," came the Companion's prompt reply. "It is not necessarily a bad thing; you were in search of mages. He is a mage, so is the gryphon. And according to the chronicles, many of the Hawkbrothers are mages. they taught Vanyel, did they not, when the Heraldmages could not?"

"Let's see if someone's willing to come with us, or teach me, first," she replied sourly. So, it was fairly well unanimous.

"He's right," she told Skif shortly, in their tongue, much to the older Herald's relief. "And so are you. We're all tired, and as long as this isn't an imprisonment-" I don't think it is," Skif replied. "I think he'd let us go if we really wanted to. I've got the feeling that we're kind of an annoyance to him, not something he'd keep around if he had the choice." That didn't make her feel any better. "All right," she told the Hawkbrother, trying to conceal her annoyance. "Where is it you want us to go?" Instead of replying, he gestured curtly for them to follow; she seethed a little at the implied discourtesy. As the gryphons lofted themselves into the air, she stood aside for Skif and Cymry to get by her. She did not want to follow him too closely just now; she was afraid she would lose what was left of her temper.

She had gotten used to being the one making the decisions. Now she was again following someone else's orders. That galled her as much as this Darkwind fellow's arrogance.

In fact, she decided somewhat guiltily as she led Gwena in Cymry's wake, it probably galled her more...