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.