Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

Kerowyn would not be with the contact party either; that was Eldan’s place. Like Darian, Kero had a different place to fill. She would be with her troops, waiting in hiding, hoping she wouldn’t be needed.

She isn’t any happier about that than I am. Kerowyn hadn’t said anything, certainly hadn’t done anything, but there was no doubt in Darian’s mind that she would gladly have accepted any excuse to get Eldan out of the contact party.

But there were only two Heralds, and Eldan was the diplomat of the two; it was, as he had gently reminded Kerowyn, his place to be conspicuous, at least for the moment.

Kelvren, who was so excited by his part in this that his hackles were up, was to be the crowning piece of the display. Whether or not these people were familiar with gryphons from afar, they could never have seen one up close, and to have Kel come swooping in out of the dark would be a considerable shock.

With Eldan and his Companion in the lead, Snowfire and Firesong flanking him riding dyheli, and followed by a good-sized escort of mounted Skybolts, the party’s size should be enough to surprise the barbarians. Appearing suddenly and unexpectedly out of the night was a time-honored tactic of the Hawkbrothers; it worked as an effective way to intimidate interlopers more often than it failed.

Darian hoped that tonight would not be counted as one of the failures.

Lord Breon had wanted badly to be included as one of the party, and had only been dissuaded from his intention by Kerowyn. The Herald-Captain had pointed out that it was her duty to protect him, not the other way around, then added that she didn’t know the territory around Kelmskeep half so well as its Lord; if it came to a running fight, she needed his expertise. So Lord Breon was also going to be an observer, and probably would be fretting inside as much as Kero or Darian.

The darkness was their friend, not the barbarians’. With the aid of the three owls, they moved into position without disturbing the few sentries, much less the sleeping camp. The barbarian sentries were posted within sight of the dying campfire anyway, too close to the camp to be an effective ward against a force like theirs.

As Kero arranged her own fighters, positioning Darian and Kuari as lookouts, the others moved closer still, just barely out of the barbarians’ sight, as near as they dared.

Darian stayed where Kerowyn had placed him, in another tree, halfway between her people and the camp. It wasn’t as safe a perch as it might have seemed; one of the things that the contact party was going to produce was a lot of light, and he would make a tempting and easy target if anyone spotted him.

In a situation like this one, the Gift of Mindspeech was all the more valuable; everyone knew when everyone else was in place and ready, with no clumsy signals that might be misheard or not heard at all. Without that warning, he might have been so startled as to lose his balance when the contact party made their initial move; as it was, he winced involuntarily when the group revealed their presence.

It must have been a hundred, a thousand times worse for the barbarians.

For them, there was no warning. In one moment, they slept peacefully, the forest sounds of crickets and frogs, the occasional bird call, no different than any other night. In the next, it must have seemed as if the heavens and earth opened up at once.

With a great flash of light and a corresponding blare of horns - supplied by Kerowyn’s people - the contact party “appeared” out of the dark as if they had suddenly burst through a Gate or were conjured by some other magical means. With mage-lights burning fiercely above them, with the owls flying at head height on either side of the group, they galloped up to the very edge of the camp. At the last moment, Starfall and Snowfire held up their hands, and the owls landed neatly on the gloves. The whole camp was roused, of course, but very few had the temerity to burst out of their tents, and fewer still to brandish the weapons they’d seized.

Giving them no time to recover from the first shock, the second descended from the dark sky - Kelvren, in full panoply, his wings providing a thunder of his own as he landed in front of Eldan.

Darian had to give the barbarians credit for bravery; they were shaking, as pale as snow and plainly terrified, but they stood their ground.

Yes, but can they stand the third shock?

A deep and angry “voice” shouted inside Darian’s head - and in the heads of every other creature present that hadn’t shielded against it. Darian had put up just enough of a shield to keep the voice from being painful, but he wanted to hear what Tyrsell said. For this was Tyrsell’s contribution, his ability to Mindspeak to anyone and anything, and if the barbarians weren’t familiar with Mindspeech, this might well be the most frightening shock of all.

:Who are you, invaders? How dare you intrude on us?: Tyrsell demanded. :Why are you here? What excuse have you for invading our lands, stealing our game, devouring our grazing? Why should we not destroy you at this moment, and leave your bones to lie in the dust as a warning to others?:

There was no telling how the barbarians would take this - how they would even “hear” it and interpret it - but this was the best that any of them could come up with, providing equal parts of threat, intimidation, and opportunity for explanation. Firesong produced appropriate stage-dressing as Tyrsell Mindspoke, sending up fountains of light on either side, as his firebird made a similar entrance to Kelvren’s. Aya plunged down from the treetops, showering false sparks as he flew, then coming in to land on Firesong’s outstretched hand.

Darian held his breath, watching the barbarians for dangerous behavior. When it was apparent that the contact party was waiting for an answer - waiting angrily, but still waiting and holding their hand - people ventured from tents, milled around a little, talking nervously, then centered all their activity on three men in particular.

As the contact party continued to wait, standing as rigid and unmoving as a group of statues, those three men walked cautiously to the edge of the camp, clutching their weapons.

No eclipse-amulets! That was something Darian had been watching for particularly - the mage (or shaman) who had led the first barbarian invasion had worn one, and Darian had gotten the impression that it was worn by the leaders of a rather nasty magical cult, even by barbarian standards. If he’d gotten even a glimpse of another one like it, he was going to call a retreat!

But no; the three leaders - a wiry man with grizzled hair and beard, and two younger, much more muscular fellows - had donned quite a bit of jangling jewelry before they ventured forward, but anything like an amulet was cat-headed or cat-shaped.

The one with the gray hair spoke loudly and slowly, with a great many gestures that didn’t mean anything to Darian. Meanwhile, the other two shook rattles and brandished, not weapons, but brightly painted rawhide shields.

:He asks if we are demons of the darkness, and if we are, says that the other two are powerful shamans who will drive us away.: There was no doubt of Tyrsell’s grim amusement with this situation. :Firesong, why don’t you be your theatrical self while I answer him?:

Firesong raised Aya over his head while Tyrsell stepped up beside Kelvren. The firebird threw off a veritable waterfall of false sparks, which rained down on his bond-mate, as Firesong conjured another mage-light in the palm of his other hand.

:Fools! Demons of the darkness shun the light, not court it!: Tyrsell “shouted” contemptuously. :We are the keepers and guardians of this land, and we demand that you answer to us for your invasion!: