Her anger faded and died, giving way to embarrassment.
Was I wrong? she wondered, as the gryphons fanned their wings in the sun, and she and Kyrr circled nearer. She had never felt so stupid in her life. She was just glad that she hadn't made this blunder in public.
Was I just a suspicious, jealous bitch? Was I overreacting to something that hadn't even happened?
It certainly looked like it. As Darkwind bade farewell to his two friends and slipped into the shadows of the forest, she very nearly sent Kyrr home. But sheer curiosity kept her aloft, circling above the two gryphons, and something about their colors nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her of a memory she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Then it came to her, as the larger of the two gryphons bit the neck of the smaller one in an unmistakable act of sexual aggression.
Gods and ancestors-they're going to mate. that's why he didn't want me around them.
For a moment, that was even more embarrassing. She felt as if she'd been caught watching the dyheli stallions and their mares for the sheer, erotic amusement of it...
But they'd had mating-flights before, lots of them, and Darkwind had never forbidden her to go near. What was it that was so different this time?
Curiosity overcame embarrassment. Whatever it was, she was going to find out.
As first one, then the other of the gryphons launched themselves into the air, she circled the sky around them, keeping them in sight at all times.
The male-Treyvan-wheeled and stooped and circled his mate, who hovered as he circled, followed him in his dives, and climbed beside him as he dove upward again. This was not simply "flight"-this was an aerobatic dance, breathtaking and beautiful, and as impressive as anything she had ever witnessed.
The gryphons moved higher with every turn of the dance, gaining altitude as the dives grew shallower, the climbs steeper, and the circles more fluid and sensuous. They came even with Kyrr, then climbed above her, continuing to climb higher as she tried to follow. Finally they climbed into regions where she couldn't follow, leaving her gazing in wonder from below...Then there was just one single dot in the blue. And it was growing larger.
Dear gods-they mate on the wing, like eagles-For two minutes they fell together, claws locked in ecstasy-plummeting toward the earth so fast that the wind whistled in their feathers, eyes closedthey aren't going toat the last possible moment they broke apart, spreading their wings with a crack as they caught the air and shot upward again, side by side, beauty so incredible that she couldn't breathe-When the beauty of the moment was shattered by the thunk of a heavy crossbow firing, and a bolt streaking toward Hydona.
Dawnfire was watching the female at the moment that the broad-bladed bolt ripped through the air, changing its arc to meet the wing and shred it..
The female screamed as the wing collapsed; the uninjured wing flailed wildly as she fell in a barely-controlled spiral towards the ground.
The male's scream of rage echoed his mate's scream of pain; he did a wing-over and turned his climb into a killing dive, claws extended, as he followed his mate down.
The female crashed into the trees at the edge of the forest and was lost to sight; the male followed an eyeblink behind her.
Then a sudden flare of light from beneath the trees enveloped him in a tongue of white flame; he screamed again, but this time in pain, not in rage. The light held him suspended for a moment, as he went limp.
Then he simply dropped, unconscious, through the leafy roof of the forest.
All that saved him from a broken neck was the fact that it was a relatively short drop. anger filled her, white-hot anger, and the urge to kill.
Without stopping to think, Dawnfire sent Kyrr in a near-vertical stoop down after them; Kyrr's instinct was to shriek with rage, but Dawnfire clenched the hawk's beak shut. No point in warning whoever it was that had perpetrated this-outrage.
As she dove through the branches, snaking through the obstacle course with desperate adjustments of her wings, Kyrr's blood boiled with rage.
It was all that Dawnfire could do to keep her under control and quiet.
The bondbird wanted blood, she wanted it now, and she wasn't going to accept less.
"Kill!" she shrilled in Dawnfire's mind. "Kill them all!" Dawnfire gritted mental teeth, and held to her tenuous control as they penetrated the last of the branches and broke out into the clear air beneath the forest canopy. If I lose her now, I lose her for all time. I'll never be able to control her in a rage again-There were two men with the unconscious gryphons; she saw that in a moment. One, the one with the crossbow, was standing guard over the unconscious male who lay in a pathetic and boneless heap at his feet.
The other was beside the female, who was, at least, semiconscious.
He was unarmed, dressed in close-fitting leather-and he was without a doubt a mage, one of the Others, who had manipulated himself into a form that was scarcely more than half human.
And he was doing something to the female gryphon.
Dawnfire barely had time to take that all in; at that moment, the female gryphon sent up a shriek of heartrending agony. The scream goaded Kyrr into a rage that tore her loose from Dawnfire's control.
Not that it mattered, because Dawnfire herself was so angered that she released control to Kyrr, to give her all the edge she needed.
Screaming outrage, they dove together in a full-scale attack, claws extended and aimed for the mage's eyes.
He looked up-And his eyes were all Dawnfire could see-just before something slammed into her, and darkness swallowed her. His eyes-his slitted eyes...And his hate-filled, sharp-toothed smile...Chapterr Sixteen
ELSPETH
Elspeth swore silently as she caught a familiar profile out of the corner of her eye. Skif was following her again.
The turbaned merchant implored her to examine the clever workmanship of the leather pouch she was holding, conveying grief that his profit margin had already been slashed to nothing. Elspeth lingered over her purchase, haggling a few more coppers off the price of the belt-pouch, as she watched Skif ghosting around the edge of the crowd, keeping an eye on her. He was very good; it was unlikely that anyone around her realized that he was shadowing her. In a bazaar full of foreigners of all shapes, sizes and costumes, neither of them stood out from the crowd.
Trade season was at its height, and the crowds of small traders, mercs, and the occasional pleasure traveler filled the aisles between the tent-booths.
It was not the easiest thing to spot Skif as he skillfully used the crowds to cover his movements, but he had trained her, and she knew his moves better than anyone else could.
It was just a good thing that she was conscientious enough to keep her own watch out for other followers. He could easily be distracting her enough to put her at hazard.
The scent of fine leather rose from the pouch in her hands as she pretended to examine it further. The merchant swore she was impoverishing him.