Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

As Kel had reported, though, there were several people, mostly children, who seemed afflicted with a curious paralysis or wasting disease. These victims lay quietly on furs beside the fire, occasionally rubbing emaciated limbs as if to ease a constant ache. An arm might be afflicted, or a leg - never both legs or both arms.

On the other hand, how could a child survive long with such a profound affliction in a nomadic clan? Even in Valdemar, people with paralysis had difficulty in simply staying alive. He had the sense, gained mostly from the way that women would look at the afflicted children and sigh, that there had been other children who had been stricken worse than these - and had not survived.

He gleaned all he could, noting that not all the women were making or decorating new garments. Some were working on weapons, fletching arrows, fitting heads to spears. Yes, those things could be used for hunting, but they could also be used for war. Just how many spears and arrows did the tribe need for hunting, any way? If nomad tribe can’t afford to carry much; why make so many weapons when there are hectares of raw materials all around them? He could understand stockpiling spear tips, arrowheads, but not whole weapons. Spears in particular were clumsy and hard to transport for people who had no wagons; why bother making entire bundles of extras?

Because they expect conflict, that’s why. Can’t stop to fletch arrows or fit a point to a shaft in the middle of a fight.

Finally he figured he had gleaned as much information as he could from simple observation, and called Kuari back in. As the great eagle-owl landed on the lirnb beside him, a huge branch wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side on it, he looked over to the next branch to see how Snowfire progressed. Huur was already there, sitting quietly beside her bondmate, and from the look of it, Hweel would not be far behind. Darian began carefully stretching muscles and getting ready to move out.

It wasn’t long before Snowfire whistled the quiet signal that meant it was time to retreat, and Darian followed the scout’s lead through the upper limbs of the trees, moving along the branches of the great trees as surely and silently as if they traveled forest paths. Where limbs crossed, they used their climbing staffs to hook the branch of the next tree, either to pull themselves up, or lower themselves down. Even in Valdemar, Snowfire had drilled his “younger brother” in this tree-walking, and no matter that the trees there were no more than a tenth of the size of those in the Pelagiris. A Hawkbrother was as at home in a tree as any Valdemaran was on the ground. That was the real secret of their ability to move invisibly through the Forest, though to Valdemarans it might as well have been magic.

They didn’t descend to the earth again until they were far from the encampment. Two dyheli waited impatiently in a clearing to carry them further toward safety. With the moon on the wane, the dyheli were only moving shadows below to Darian’s eyes, but to Kuari’s, the thick darkness made no difference. With Kuari to guide him, Darian followed Snowfire down to the ground; the dyheli (not Tyrsell, but a swift runner all the same) was at his side as his feet touched the moss. Faster than thought, Darian was in the saddle, and the dyheli bounded away, no more than a pace or two behind his herdmate.

There was neither the time nor the leisure for either of them to talk, not with the dyheli at full gallop. Darian hung on, most of his attention with Kuari, who scouted the back-trail, watchfully making certain that barbarians had not somehow detected them. Huur and Hweel scouted ahead, serving as their guides as the moon set and the darkness thickened further.

Darian had made so many similar rides in the last four years that his senses were keenly attuned to the signals that meant real danger. He no longer started, hand to weapon, at every little sound. The farther they got from the encampment, the more he relaxed - insofar as it was possible to do so. The mission had only begun; it would be a very long night before it was over.

We got away with our spy-out; that’s a decent omen. So far, so good.

The war council wasn’t waiting for their report in the Vale. Tonight was the night of confrontation, and the barbarians weren’t as close to the allies as that. Their own war band had an encampment of their own, near enough for an effective strike at the barbarians, but hopefully far enough away that the barbarian scouts wouldn’t detect them.

The dyheli slowed to a walk as they neared the periphery of the camp. With Darian just a pace behind him, Snowfire answered three low-voiced challenges before the dyheli brought them to a shallow cave in the hillside facing away from the barbarians, and into a circle of firelight reflecting off faces that looked up at their approach. This cave was the only spot safe enough for a fire and offering enough privacy for the war council.

Once they were out of the saddle and settled in among the rest, taking seats cross-legged on the soft sand floor, Darian reported his findings first. Snowfire listened as intently as the others, although, except for the identification of the clan-totem, there wasn’t much real information there. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more,” Darian ended, on a note of apology. “But at some point we’ve got to get hold of one of their people - maybe a child - and get their language. There’s too much I missed by not understanding their conversation.”

Snowfire then made his own report. “I didn’t see a mage or a shaman anywhere among the men, nor did I see a special tent, or any of the sort of equipment and paraphernalia that a shaman or mage would require,” he said, eliciting a nod from Firesong. “From the little of their speech that I understood, I believe that they call themselves the “Ghost Cat” clan. If what I heard is true, they believe their totemic animal actually led them here. I also understood that they are terrified of the Change-Circles, and will make any detour to pass around them, and that corresponds with what Kel has observed. They don’t seem to be aware of the existence of Errold’s Grove or k’Valdemar Vale; as far as they are concerned, this is completely unknown, probably empty territory. I saw some preparation for fighting, but not what I would expect if they planned a major assault. In my opinion, they are ready to fight, and will if they see the need to attack or defend, but it did not look to me as if they planned to go to war.”

Kero nodded, and looked first into Sayvil’s eyes, then nodded at Eldan. “Then we should go ahead with our plan. We come in, show superior abilities, and try to awe them. I’ll have the Skybolts in place as backup for the contact party, but they won’t show their faces unless the contact party has to be rescued. Sound right to everyone else?”

Darian followed Kerowyn’s glance around the circle; there was no dissension, but he didn’t expect any at this point. After all, they’d been over and over this plan so many times that they had, he hoped, worked any flaws out of it.

“Let’s do it,” Firesong said. “Before I lose my nerve.”

He’s joking, Darian thought as they all stood, and shivered. I wish I could.

Now it was time for Tyrsell to join the group, but as Firesong’s mount, not Darian’s. Darian would remain with the Skybolts as advance scout, ready to mount a rescue, should that become necessary. This did not make Darian feel any better; he could not help thinking about all those well-made arrows he’d seen being fletched, and imagining his friends facing a hail of them.