Mercedes Lackey - Winds Of Fury

It was Firesong who answered, with one hand protectively on the boy's shoulder. "This is An'desha, old friend. And - "

:And he has earned more than the reward he sought.: The mental voice boomed through his head, resonating in his bones. Every feather on Treyvan's body stood on end, as he felt the stirrings of energies deeper and stranger than the local mage-currents. Light filled the room, a warm and sourceless light as bright as sunlight on a summer day. A faint scent of sun-warmed grasses wafted across the salle -

The light collected behind An'desha; more light formed into an identical column behind a very startled Nyara. The columns of light spread huge, fiery wings over the two; Treyvan's skin tingled and Darkwind and Firesong gasped.

:These twain have given selflessly. It is the will of the Warrior that what was stolen from them be returned.:

A female voice this time - and Darkwind reached toward the pillar of light behind Nyara as if he recognized it, and soundlessly mouthed a name. Treyvan realized that, no, these were not winged columns of golden light, but a pair of huge golden birds, shining so brightly that Treyvan squinted and the humans' eyes watered. But the birds had human eyes - eyes as black as night, but spangled with stars.

:So let the balance be restored.: Both voices called, in glorious harmony, a peal of trumpets, the cry of hawks - The light flared, and Treyvan cried out involuntarily, blinded, deafened, able to see only the light and hear only the joined and wordless song of those two voices, which went on, and on - And was, as suddenly, gone.

He blinked, his beak still agape. The light was gone, and with it the two huge hawks of light -

Then his beak gaped even farther as he looked down at what had been An'desha/Mornelithe.

A young, bewildered, and clearly human man sat there now; as he looked up in shock and wonder at Treyvan, his golden skin betrayed his Shin'a'in blood, although his golden-brown hair spoke of an outClan parent somewhere. His eyes were still green-gold and slitted like a cat's, and there was still a feline cast to his features; his build was still powerful and his fingernails still talon-like - but no one would ever look askance at him in a crowd now.

Treyvan looked quickly to Nyara, who was staring at An'desha, and saw that similar changes had been made to her. She looked down at her hands, at skin that no longer bore a coat of sleek, short fur - and burst into tears.

It took a while for Skif and Treyvan to understand her distress, and longer for Skif to persuade Nyara that he still would love her now that she was no longer so exotic. Treyvan advised the blade Need to stay out of it; wisely, she did.

An'desha was simply overjoyed. He had never expected to look human again - he had only wanted a body back, not necessarily the original body Mornelithe had taken. It was from him that they learned what the two fiery birds were - "Avatars of the Shin'a'in Warrior" - and who - "A shaman of my people, Tre'valen, and his lady, Dawnfire."

Darkwind nodded as if he had expected something of the sort; he and Elspeth shared a warm and secret smile of pleasure. Firesong looked as if he had gotten a revelation from the gods. The gryphlets and children, who had been quiet witnesses to all of this, simply watched with wide, delighted eyes.

Finally, they packed themselves back up to the palace, silent, awestruck youngsters and all. Treyvan was simply afire by then with impatience. "I mussst know!" he exclaimed as they settled into the gryphons' rooms, and another small army of Healers and servants descended on them. "I ssssee that thisss An'desssha isss not Falconsss-bane, but how, how, did he become Falconsssbane? Orrrr did Falconsssbane become him?"

Firesong had his arm about the young man's shoulders, in a gesture both protective and proprietary. "Falconsbane became him, old bird," the Adept replied. "And how he got there is a very, very, long story."

:A long story? A long story?: Rris came bounding up at last, dashing in from the hallway, ears and tail high :Knowledge is good! History is better! Tell me! Tell me all!:

Treyvan grinned to himself. Once the kyree discovered what he had missed witnessing, they were never going to hear the last of it!

Firesong laughed tiredly; An'desha stared at the kyree in utter fascination, and Treyvan only shook his head and sighed at Rris' unbounded enthusiasm.

"We will have time enough to tell you all you wish, Rris," Firesong said. "An'desha and Darkwind and I are the most weary of this company, and I think - "

"If you think that we're going to order the lot of you to stay here and recover, you're right!" snapped one of the Healers. "You're in no shape to go haring around on a battlefield." He turned back to An'desha, muttering something about "Heralds."

"Well, Rris," Elspeth said with a smile, getting up off the floor to go sit with Darkwind. She leaned gingerly into his shoulder, "It looks as if you're going to have all of us at your disposal for some time."

:Yes!: Rris replied, bounding in place :Yes! I will make histories of all of it!: And he abruptly settled, fixed Darkwind with his direct and intelligent gaze, and demanded, :Now. You, Darkwind. Begin at the beginning, and leave nothing out.:

Darkwind slowly picked up the battered map of Valdemar and threatened Rris with it.

Elspeth burst into laughter, laughing until tears came to her eyes. "Don't kill him, ashke; he's a Bard and has immunity here."

"Impudence, you mean," Darkwind muttered. Then smiled, and gently put the map back down.

"It all began," he said, as if he were a master storyteller, "on the day we left home."

Rris cocked his head to one side, curiously :K'Sheyna?: he asked, puzzled.

"No," Darkwind replied, his eyes on Elspeth and not the kyree. "Home. Valdemar."

Treyvan thought that the blinding light of the Avatars could never be matched. But it was challenged and eclipsed then, by the light in Elspeth's eyes.