Darkwind bent over the basin's edge and closed his eyes in a prayer to the spirits of the woods and an apology to the spirits of the Tayledras that had died when the Heartstone sundered.
Mornelithe Falconsbane, you have a great deal to answer for.
He drew back and hurled the body of the crow into the fire pit-so hard that something shattered with a splintering crunch as it hit-perhaps the bird's bones, perhaps the branches of the fire...The Adepts were so intent on Starblade that they didn't even look up, but a sudden heavy weight on his shoulder, and the soft trill in his ear, told him that Vree approved.
The feathers caught fire quickly; the rest took longer to burn-but the flames from the resin-laden branches were hot, and eventually the flesh crisped and blackened, then burst into flame. He watched until the last vestige of the bird was ash and glowing coals, and only then turned back to the rest.
Iceshadow still cradled Starblade's head in both his hands. A pool of blood had seeped out around Starblade's hand, with Darkwind's knife laid to the side. The expression on Iceshadow's face was just as intent, but Starblade's expression had changed entirely.
Darkwind wondered now how he could ever have mistaken the changes in his father for anything other than a terrible alteration in his personality.
Here was the father he had loved as a child-despite the pain, the grief, and the suffering etched into his face.
Starblade opened his eyes for a moment and saw him; he smiled, and tried to speak.
And couldn't. Once again, he came up against a terrible compulsion.
His face twisted as he strove to shape words that would not come.
"Keep trying," Iceshadow urged, in a low, compelling voice. "Keep trying, I'm tracking it down." Iceshadow was seeking the root of the compulsion, and reversing it; since Falconsbane had changed his father's will rather than placing a simpler block, it was not a matter of removing a wall. Instead, Starblade's mind had to be altered, set back to normal bit by bit as each compulsion was found and changed, so he could regain the use of all of his mind.
The internal struggle, mirrored in Starblade's face, ceased as Iceshadow found the series of problems, and corrected them one by one.
Darkwind dropped to his knees beside his father, and took the poor, wounded hand in his own. Blood leaked through an improvised bandage. but Starblade managed a faint ghost of a smile, fleeting, and full of pain.
"I made you my enemy," he whispered. "I made you hate me, so that anything I told you to do, you would do the opposite. Then, when M-M-" his face twisted with effort.
"Mornelithe," Darkwind supplied.
Starblade sighed. "When he twisted my thoughts, so that they were no longer my own, I knew that he would want you to take up magic again. If you did, eventually he would find a way to take you, too. through me. And blood of my blood, you would have been vulnerable."
"He almost had what he wanted," Darkwind replied grimly, thinking of all Nyara had told him.
Starblade nodded. "The only way I could think of to protect you was to drive you away from me. So that the more I tried, beneath his compulsion, to bring you back to magic, the more you would fight it. Then when my mind was not my own... you were safe." He looked up tearfully, entreatingly, at his son. "Can you... ever forgive me?" Darkwind blinked away tears. "Of course I can forgive you," he said quickly, and took a deep breath to calm himself He looked up at Iceshadow." How clear is he?" he asked.
Iceshadow shook his head. "I've only begun," the Adept replied, exhaustion blurring his words a little. "It's going to be a long process.
The bastard set the compulsions in a few days, but they've had all this time to work and develop. We'll have to keep him under shield the whole time."
"Put him in the work area," Darkwind suggested. "It has strong shields, and there aren't any apprentices who need it right now. Those shields are the best we have."
"which is why I was not-permitted-to go there," Starblade whispered." The bird would not let me."
"Then that is a good indicator that the shields will hold, don't you think?" Darkwind responded. He started to let go of Starblade's hand, but his father clutched it despite the pain that must have caused.
"Wait," he coughed. "Dawnfire-" Darkwind froze. Iceshadow asked the question he could not manage to get out.
"What about Dawnfire?" the Adept asked. "She's dead."
"No," Starblade said urgently. "The bird was never found, but M-M-his sign was on her body. I think he has her-trapped in her bird. Still alive, but helpless. A-another toy." Starblade's face was twisted, but this time with what he remembered. "It would-please him-very much."
*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.