Mercedes Lackey - Winds Of Change

Nyara crept along the dusty passages between the walls of her father's stronghold, moving as quietly as only she could. In this, she was her father's superior; he had never mastered the art of moving without noise, without even the sound of a breath. Then again, he had never had need to. He had never had anyone to fear or avoid.

In all his life, he never had to hide from anyone.

Not like a certain small girl, who had huddled for hours in these passageways to avoid him-to avoid what he had in store for her.

She felt fear starting to cramp her stomach, and sternly told it to relax.

Deep breaths. Slowly. Tension brings mistakes; fear is his weapon.

She was glad of the dust, for all that it might have choked her, had she not come prepared for it. She breathed through a silken cloth wrapped closely around nose and mouth; slowly, evenly, taking each step only after testing the surface before her. The dust meant that no one had walked this passage since she had last been here-and that had been years. The last time-certainly it had been two years and more.

The last time she had been here was long before she had even dreamed of escape from her father's power. And then it had taken a year of planning before she dared to try.

How bitter it had been to learn that the attempt had been watched and planned by Falconsbane all along...That thought plays into his hands again. No, Nyara; once you were free of him, you did things he had never anticipated you would. You won free of him. You turned his own plan against him. Surely it is he who tastes bitterness now.

She put that old disappointment behind her, throttled her fear again, and concentrated completely on setting each foot down carefully, noiselessly.

At the moment, this was the only thing in the universe that was important. What was past could not be changed; the future lay beyond this passageway. This was all that she controlled, this moment of now, and she must control it completely...So far, Need had detected no alarms or traps in this passageway itself.

Perhaps her father did not feel he needed any. Perhaps he trusted in the narrowness of the passage to keep anything of real danger out of it.

Certainly it was much too small to permit the movement of an armed man.

But not too small for one small, slender female, armed with only the sword that she kept out and pointed into the darkness before her.

Thirty steps from here was her goal; her father's study. One of his workrooms; it lay in a suite in the heart of his stronghold, the heart of his power. There was an entrance into this passage from that room; behind a tapestry at the farther end, through the back of a wooden wardrobe that Falconsbane kept some of his special garments in. He knew all about it, of course, for he had built it-but because he knew about it, she did not think he ever thought about it anymore. The passage and the entrance had been there since before she was born, and no one that he knew of had ever used it but him in all that time. If she was very lucky, he might assume that since no one ever had, no one ever would.

Twenty steps more.

"He's ahead up there," Need cautioned. "In the suite. No one but him, and he's busy." Ten steps.

She had never prayed before: Don't worry about that, kitten. I'm praying enough for both of u I'm an expert at it." Five...Elspeth sensed something change, like the sharpness in the air before lightning strikes. Alarm shrilled along her nerves, and every hair on her body stood on end. A bitter, metallic taste filled her throat. Gwena snorted and froze where she stood, sensing it as well-Darkwind and Brytha beside them did the same at the same moment. They were no longer being watched ...They were being targeted!

No use to run now-they couldn't escape what was coming.

"Shields!" Darkwind cried. He stuck out his hand, blindly, as they had planned if it came to this; she linked to Gwena and caught his hand, and with it, his link. He was better at shielding; she flung her power to him, taking whatever Gwena could pour into her.

She sensed the blow coming and cringed over Gwena's neck; he met the blow with one of his own-a defense of offense, something she hadn't even thought of.

The two bolts of power met over their heads in a silent explosion of power and a shower of very physical sparks that landed in the snow all around him, sizzling and melting the drifts wherever they landed. He took the moment to weave a hasty shield about them both, but it had none of the layering or complexity he needed.

The next bolt came, splashing and burning against the shield, scorching it half away and blinding her. Physically, as well as in Mage-Sight.

A thunderclap of sound deafened her in the next instant. They hadn't had enough time-they hadn't known Falconsbane could strike like this.

Where did he get all that power? Falconsbane should have been wounded, should have been at less power than he'd had before, not more.

Unless he was already tapping into the proto-Gate?

Or unless he had ruthlessly sacrificed many of his underlings, building a network of death-energies stronger than anything they had. Or unless he'd found an ally somewhere... ?

Darkwind couldn't shield all of them; the group was just too big. He reinforced where the shield had burned away, and this time she aided him, weaving light and snow-glare into a dazzle, trying to recreate the kind of shielding they had learned to make in the safety of the Vale.

But Falconsbane was keeping them both off-balance, destroying the rhythm of their dance of power with sheer, brute force. He controlled the situation now; it was his land they walked on, and the land held energy away from them. She whimpered in sudden pain as a lick of flame burned through and across her hand, the hand that held Darkwind'sbut she would not let go, not even if she died in the next moment.

Instead, she kneed Gwena closer to Brytha, until their legs were halfcrushed between the two mounts to make the physical gap between them smaller. She closed her eyes and sheltered against Darkwind's back, sweat of fear and exertion running down her back under her coat, feeling him tremble with strain.

Falconsbane did not let up, not even for a heartbeat. Blow after blow rained down on them, driving all sense from her, until the last of the shields eroded, and they clung together, waiting for the strike that would take them both.

Together, at least-she thought faintly.

The blow never came; they opened their eyes, fearing something worse.

Then a scream from above made them jump, and look up.

Like two golden streaks of light, the two gryphons plummeted down from above. They crashed through the thin lace of branches, ending their dive barely above the ground, and pulling up with wingbeats that sent the snow spraying in all directions. Both screamed again, an unmistakable note of taunting in their voices, as they plunged upward through the tree canopy.

"Run!" Darkwind found his voice. "Run! They've made targets out of themselves. If we give him too many to choose from, we may all get away!" Brytha broke from his paralysis and hurled himself down their backtrail.

Gwena followed a moment later, but not directly behind, making herself and Elspeth into yet another target to track on. Above the interlace of bare branches, Hydona and Treyvan had separated as well, skydancing as if they were courting-but far enough apart that Falconsbane would have to make a choice of victims.

Four targets...When the two young fools rode along the edge of his territory, at first Falconsbane could not believe the testimony of his own senses. It must be an illusion, he thought at first. It is meant to distract me. But the closer the pair came, the clearer they were, despite the best attempts of whatever it was-that was trying to cloud his scrying. Between midnight and dawn, he knew that the pair were something more than they seemed.