Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight (52 page)

Keisha didn't bother to wonder why; as the Raven fighters pushed aside the barricade and poured after them, she followed, heading straight for the place where she had seen Steelmind go down.

She found him—and Shandi and Karles with him. Shandi was on her knees, clutching the front of his tunic and weeping over him. Keisha shoved her aside without a word, sending her tumbling, and took her place.

Oh, gods. This is bad, very bad.
There were many, many internal injuries; someone had landed a terrible blow to his back, and another to his stomach.
He's bleeding in there and I
—She knew with dismay that neither she, nor she and Shandi together had enough power to save him.

But someone else did.

She looked up; grabbed Karles' dangling reins, and pulled his head down to the same level as hers. She looked defiantly into his eyes, and let him know without any words at all that she wasn't
asking
for his help—she was
ordering
him to give it.

He stared at her blankly for just a moment, then the power came flooding into her in a blue-white torrent.

If water were to be compared to power and energy, being caught in the midst of Karles' strength was akin to swimming that flooded river so many weeks ago. But she
had
swum that river, and she
would
direct this power now!

Fiercely, she flung herself into the battle to save Steelmind's life, just as fiercely as any Raven warrior had fought at the barricade. She transmuted the blue-white beam into the gentler green energies of Healing and the golden ones of strength, and poured both into the shattered shell that was the Hawkbrother. She pieced together bone, mended torn and bleeding veins and arteries, soothed bruised tissues, and reinforced Steelmind's own faltering strength. She did things she hadn't even known she
could
do, galvanized by the unending flow of energy. This was something like the time she had Healed Hywel's brother—except that this time she was in no danger of losing herself.

The moment that everything she needed to do was
done,
and there was nothing more to do except that which only time could accomplish—the power was gone.

She dropped abruptly out of her Healing trance with a mental
thud,
and opened her eyes to see Shandi bent over Steelmind, both of them taking turns babbling about how much they loved each other.

Karles looked at her, then at Shandi, and snorted. Keisha got slowly to her feet, wobbling a little, feeling more than a bit light-headed. Karles hadn't given her a single iota of power more than he'd had to, but somehow she didn't resent that.

After all, Companions are supposed to help us with problems, not solve them for us.
Karles looked up again just as she thought that—and nodded his gore-spattered, beautiful head, winking.

 

Darian walked slowly toward what was left of the barricades, which were now being pulled apart by industrious women. The Raven warriors were on the heels of Wolverine and Blood Bear, making certain that they took themselves over the pass, the news of their defeat with them. More women, boys, and a few old men followed their own fighters, each carrying leather bags or small fishing nets—harvesting the discarded arms and armor. They were no fools; they could alter the style and fit of what was once Wolverine's, and make it Raven's.

He saw Karles first—then Shandi, Keisha, and Steelmind. For one horrible moment, he feared the worst.

Then Shandi helped Steelmind to his feet; she draped one of his arms over Karles' back, and the other over her own shoulder, then began walking him back toward the village. Darian heaved a sigh of relief.

Keisha looked up as a shadow went across them, to see Kelvren wing heavily overhead, returning from overseeing the Wolverine warriors' retreat. His landing was imperfect and he nearly buckled; it was not too hard to see why as his left side became visible. There was a deep gash from the top of his beak, through the cere, and a nick in his eyelid, clearly from the same blow. His nares freely bled distinctively dark red blood which flowed to mix with the lighter sticky red of his foes', most of which had dried with loose feathers, dirt, twigs and other debris glued into it. The broken ends of two arrows showed from the blood-matted feathers in the leading edge of his left wing, and in his left thigh. As he landed, clearly in terrible pain, he raised his head high and bellowed, “Arrre therrre any morrre left? Brrring them on!”

Keisha and Darian cried out, in unison, “Kelvren!” and quick-walked—since they had little energy left for running—to the wounded gryphon.

“Arrre therrre any morrre left to fight?” Kelvren demanded, eyes pinning, his gaze darting right and left. Darian grimaced, seeing what had happened to his good friend. “No more left, Kel. We won. They're all gone now.”

Kelvren gazed off in the direction Wolverine had fled and then slumped down onto his hindquarters, leaning right, and finally collapsing onto his side without even folding his wings. “Hurrrrhhh—then I will rrressst. Darrrian, Ssshin‘a'in arrre rrright—being conssspicuousss attrractsss arrrowsss.”

Swaying a little, Keisha turned to Darian, with both hands outstretched. They fell into each other's embrace, and that was all he needed or thought about for a brief, but blissful moment, broken only by Keisha murmuring in his ear.

His heart lofted skyward with joy, and his heartbeat in his ears sounded like wingbeats.

They had made it through every ordeal, despite fatigue, pain, and fear. Together.

 

Keisha was in an awkward position, in quite a few ways. Physically, she had one foot under Kelvren's head, and her other leg across his neck, snugged around the nape and all but unseen underneath the mass of feathers. Kelvren himself was flat on his belly, with Darian straddling his back, keeping his wings safely folded by sitting on them. The gryphon had his beak clamped around a bedroll, and flinched every time she pierced his cere with the needle. Kuari, feeling drowsy, was perched atop a chair back nearby.

“I know you don't like this, Kel, but I have to get this gash stitched up,” Keisha softly said, and she hoped she actually sounded as reassuring as she was trying to. “The powder is dulling the pain as much as it will, the rest you just have to cope with. Bite down on the bedroll instead of me, and we'll be through with this in just a little while, all right?”

It wasn't just her physical position that made her feel awkward and strained right now, though. They were also in the middle of a discussion with Darian's parents, who hovered off to the side and projected nervous tension like a thunderstorm sent out lightning.

“Father, you know that I love you, but I am a Knight of Valdemar now
and
an Elder of my Vale. I do like it here, I truly do—but I cannot stay here and be a part of Raven. There are things happening back home that I have to tend to.”

Daralie nodded slowly, her expression very neutral. “And that does say it all, doesn't it—back home. There, in Valdemar, and at your Vale. We always taught you from an early age that home is a place in your heart, Darian. Sometimes the place in your heart can also be represented by a place in the world. If it is where you have to be, then you have to be there.”

Kullen nodded, agreeing with his wife's words, though his expression was much more grave. “Darian, we are so proud of you that there are just no words in any language to tell you how much. When we lost you, we carried around a hole in our hearts for years. Even with what we were going through up here, we thought of you, or rather—we thought of you as we last knew you. When we were separated, our only influence on you was what we'd taught you already, and we hoped that you remembered. We wish we could have been with you, all that time you were under Justyn's care, but fate did not have it so. We loved you then, and as for who you have become—we do not love you any less.”

Kelvren rumbled deep in his throat, not quite a growl, but close. He was reacting to the stitching, not what was being said, but it made a strange counterpoint to the discussion. At least the most delicate part—the eyelid cut—had been completed first. Wintersky limped by, conversing with Raven's Chief, and glanced in at the tableau briefly. They both seemed to surmise in the same instant what was going on between Darian and his parents, and drifted off discreetly after no more than a short wave.

Kullen shifted his weight off of his crippled leg. “Son—who and what you have become,
we
could not have given you. You are a wonder to us, and to all of Raven, too. You'll be spoken of here for a long time—Darian, the Hunters' Son, the Owl Knight, the Shaman of the Earth-mother who can call up fountains and crack stone with a thought, to defend the people—and more stories yet to come.”

Darian looked from his mother to his father, and even though he tried to soften the blow of his words, he couldn't. They still carried a hint of bitterness. “I didn't come this far to become a tribal hero. I came here for you.”

“We know, son, we know,” Daralie spoke, and then she paused when Kelvren flinched strongly, biting hard enough into his gag they could all hear the bedroll's stitches popping. She resumed a few seconds later, filling the uncomfortable silence of the moment. “All of you will be welcome back here, I hope you know that. But—before we even came here to talk to you, we knew what the outcome would be. We haven't survived this long without knowing how to listen to our hearts, and—we can't go back to Valdemar with you. We also know that you can't stay here with us.”

Darian's jaw set and his muscles were visibly tense, but that was nothing compared to what Keisha sensed from him. He was angry, disappointed, frustrated—upset at a very deep level over this news, yet—there was an undercurrent of relief, as well. Keisha sensed that inside, this was one of the end results that her lover secretly wanted. She sensed an undercurrent of—

Kelvren growled, jarring her attention back to the task of stitching the wound. Darian straightened his shirt, and replied.

“Mother. Father. When you were gone, I had only feelings of fear and abandonment. I also had myself, and one more thing. I had my memories of you.”

Darian's eyes clouded in introspection. “In a way, this entire journey was not coming back to you, it was a way of confirming that my memories were real—that even though I
remembered
that you loved me, I wanted to be sure of it. When you go from childhood to manhood, everything changes, until you're not even sure that the very things that
made
you were real. Now that we're reunited, we have found that it
was
real. Then. But then is not now. Now, we are new people, and we love each other all over again, in a new way.”

Darian is good at this. Maybe he learned it from Firesong, or maybe Silverfox
—
how to pick the right thing to say, to soothe and support the listener so the meaning of what is said doesn't crush them. He has the heart of a Healer, that is for sure. That may be why I love him so much.

Kullen nodded, his arms crossed loosely, listening to Darian intently. Daralie rested against her husband's shoulder, squeezing his nearest hand slightly—something very natural between them, Keisha could tell, and long-practiced.

I wonder if, when we are that age
—
may we live so long
—
we will be that easy with each other, that comfortable. Kullen just lists to the side, already knowing that Daralie will be there. They do not have “powers” like Empathy and Healing, these Gifts, but just look at them. Being in love is enough.

“You have a new home now, and so do I. Mine is far away from here, but your hearts will always be my home. My heart will always be your home. I have to return to my work in Valdemar and the Vales, with the woman that I love.”

Darian looked at Keisha with an expression that showed no doubt in that statement at all.

Another moment, and Darian looked back to his parents. “I love you both, so much.”

“We love you, too, Darian,” Daralie half-whispered. “We are so proud of you. And what you have done for this tribe is—”

Darian smiled a little and shook his head, holding up one hand. “—is done lovingly, for no charge, price or demand. It was done for the principle, for the honor, and for you.”

Kullen grunted, and nodded once, in acknowledgment. Kuari hooted softly, as if answering, then twisted his head to receive a slow scratching from Darian while his bondmate collected his thoughts.

Darian took a deep breath. “Personally, though I need you to do something for me.”

Darian clasped his hands in front of him, and despite his own bandages he stood perfectly straight up and strong. “You have children now, my brothers and sisters who I'd never met before and, honestly—who I just don't know. I may never know them. We are siblings by blood, but not by culture, except for one vital link.”

“The link is you, and your knowledge ... the things that you can teach them. Teach them that their oldest brother is a Knight of Valdemar, and that he is a Hawkbrother, and teach them what those things mean. Teach them that his friends of many tribes, cultures and species came here to defend Raven, and them. Teach them that they can live, and love, and actually fulfill the kinds of duties and risks and grand adventures that you used to tell me about in hero stories when I was just your little boy, Mother. Teach them that it isn't beyond their reach, that they can be brave, and travel, and learn amazing things, and do what is compassionate at whatever cost, Father. Teach them for me, because I cannot be here to do it myself.”

Daralie wept, and Kullen's eyes looked near to crying as well. Keisha held her breath, and as she knotted the last stitch of Kelvren's wound, a teardrop from her own eyes fell on the blotting pad.