A fanfic situated in Mountain Eyrie, about the Starpool Holt character Arrowspeed. Arrowspeed is 63 in this story. Told in first person, to her friends at Starpool.
You have asked me for stories of my tribe, and I've been trying to decide whether I should begin with a battle-story or a hunt-story. Both have their merits, and so I chose a story that is both. We Hawkriders usually hunt alone, each with her or his own bond-bird, for such is the way of our hawks. Bowhorn we hunt, and deer, even cave-bears the hunter braves alone. Only one beast is too fearsome to be thus faced. There is one hunt we do together, a dangerous but necessary one. That is the hunt of the swordfeet, and we call it a battle-hunt. For the swordfeet are as large as our birds, and much heavier. They are giant lizards whose strength is in the talons that give them their name. We respect them and call them enemy, not game. When they stray into our lands we let them be, but if one tries to make a nest we must drive it away lest they come to stay. It is a grievous duty to us if we have to break swordfeet eggs – in size if not in shape they resemble the eggs of our beloved birds, and all our battle hunts prove they are a cunning, terrible enemy, perhaps almost as wise as our hawks were before we blended blood with them.
So, this is the story of my second battle-hunt. All the hunter-warriors of my tribe were there, except young Whirl who was recovering from an injury: my father Bowstring, our chief Whiteraven, her lifemate Falcon and their children Winter and Snowflake, and also Blade, Fountain, Birdbone, Kestrel, Bluestone, and the pureblood Aval and flightless Summernight. The bone-shaper Valaree was with us, and our healer Suanshen came as well, and I was worried for her more than usually because we had just become lovemates. Do not mind, by the way, that I mention everyone by name even though you do not know them. Such is the way of my tribe: when we tell stories, no name must be forgotten. My mother Selaree, who is our storyteller and Eldest, knows all the names of all that have ever lived at Mountain Eyrie. Many we were that day, the hunters of my tribe, and too many of those I name now are with us in spirit only. Our birds refuse to come near swordfeet so we had not their support. Our enemies were six adult lizards, one of whom had already made a nest, and two half-grown ones.
We glided over the sleeping-place of our enemy soon after dawn. Falcon carried his mother for Summernight was one of those not gifted with flight. We saw the nest-making female was resting with her male, another with the two young ones, and the last three each by itself. Whiteraven divided us into groups:
I'll take the matriarch and her mate. With me, Falcon, Summernight and Valaree. Winter, you'll lead Blade, Fountain and Aval against the one with young. Suanshen, go with Winter. Arrowspeed, you and Kestrel can handle the big male I think. Snowflake and Bluestone take the smaller male, and Bowstring and Birdbone deal with the scar-marked female. She looks to me the strongest, but the matriarch will be fiercest for she has a nest to defend.
She paired us well, strong with swift and young with old, except for Kestrel and me. We were of age and thought ourselves strong, but years we had only sixty-and-three. I had proven myself as warrior and hunter, and had already been away from my tribe once looking for other tribes of elves. Kestrel was one of my strongest rivals in all contests of skill and strength. By pairing us Whiteraven knew we would strife to do our very best. By naming me first she gave me responsibility over him.
We called our battle cry to wake our enemies. They moved sluggishly in the morning sun, but soon the warmth would reach their bones and their sharp claws would be swift indeed.
I had chosen sword against sword-claws, my first troll-forged blade, which I called Bane. Kestrel had several javelins with horn-points shaped sharp by Valaree. I challenged the swordfoot gliding now near his face, now just outside the reach of his forefeet. Kestrel hovered farther, took aim and the High Ones were with him – his first try hit the beast in the side, and when he turned to bite the spear off, he got a second one right in the eye and fell. Kestrel called out a shrill cry of triumph – ki-eee-eee! – like so. We looked around to see how the others were doing. Whiteraven's group had the matriarch down and were battling her mate. Winter seemed to be doing well with his warriors, but I couldn't see Suanshen with them. Frantic, I turned and saw her healing Birdbone while my father was trying to keep their opponent at bay with arrows. As I watched, the scar-covered female evaded yet another and took a bold dash at Bowstring. I hurried to his aid.
Together, my father and I battled a formidable enemy. Her claws were razor-sharp, her mouth was full of hungry teeth, and her skin bore witness of countless battles with her own kin. My father wounded her several times before barely evading a slash intended to kill. The talon's side hit his head and struck him down unconscious. I drew the monster to me with taunting blows and cut off one of her forefeet with my sword – a hollow triumph, for it is on their hind legs that the swordfeet have their biggest talons. Yet it was the bone-shaper Valaree who felled the beast, boldly diving from above to take hold of the horn-like two bone crests on its skull and shape the bone to pierce the enemy's brain. Pureblood as she was, no hawk-cry erupted from her lips on the moment of victory.
Only then did I recall Kestrel. Why hadn't he come to our aid?
Kestrel? I sent, fearing something had happened to him.
Here! He sent, showing me a place on the other side of a copse of trees where Bluestone and Snowflake had chased their wounded opponent.
I need you, Arrowspeed! Get Suanshen if you can – Snowflake is down and I'm wounded!
He did not need to add what we both knew – Bluestone was good with his spear, but not good enough to stand against a swordfoot alone. Snowflake being 'down' meant she was either unconscious or in too much pain to glide. That made the situation even more dangerous.
Suanshen was still in the healing trance – the talon of the swordfoot had torn Birdbone's leg from knee down almost into shreds, or so it seemed to me.
"Bone-Shaper, guard these three. Snowflake's down."
I trusted her with a lot, considering there is not friendship between the two of us even to call each other by name. My father, my lovemate, and my lovemate's son very much my elder but still dear to her. Yet the bone-shaper complained:
"Why me?"
I didn't turn to answer. I had been given the duty to watch over Kestrel, and watch over him I would. While I rose above the glade I saw everyone was indeed either engaged in battle or wounded and being carried away to safety by the gliders chosen to attend us for this purpose only: Serek, Aldah, Elkar and Storm. The last I saw was how Summernight had somehow got a foothold on the back of a swordfoot and was shouting to others to mind their own business and let her mind hers. I smiled, proud of my father's blood. Summernight is his grandson's daughter – yes, she's also Snowflake's grandmother, and Snowflake used to be my father's lovemate before I was born… I know this sounds strange and maybe even wrong to you, but my tribe has been small too long, we are all related. We are also all Recognition-born and proud of it.
Back to my story. I hastened to find Kestrel fending off a swordfoot alone. The way he dangled his legs when gliding showed he had broken bones there. I cursed his thoughtlessness: he should have asked for Valaree, not Suanshen. Then I saw Snowflake and understood. The chief's daughter had several wounds on her that showed she had fallen fighting. I feared she was dead, for something seemed to be horribly wrong with the gaping wound on her brow. Surely there was not flesh enough for such a deep gash on top of a skull? The swordfeet are not stupid. They have learned that the best way to down a glider is to strike for the head. It takes consciousness to float a body, just as it takes consciousness to stand or walk. There. See how I've come to trust you? I would never have revealed my greatest weakness to a human listener.
I turned my thoughts from the one I could not help.
Where's Bluestone? I asked Kestrel as I glided over the swordfoot. One of Snowflake's arrows was in his eye, but it had only enraged him more. Still, the creature now had a blind side, which eased my work a lot.
Down, too. He threw him towards the trees just before you came.
Our final battle was short and bloody. Kestrel lured the beast with false attacks, using a spear that had been in his brother's hands when the hunt began. I pretended to turn away, and then ambushed our enemy from its blind side. My long blade did what the arrow had failed in, piercing through to the brain. I was spattered all over in blood and brain tissue when I glided to Kestrel. His strength was almost spent, but I could easily carry his weight without it slowing me as we hastened to find Bluestone. He answered our sending, but faintly.
Suanshen! Valaree! Come here at once! We both sent when we saw what was left of him. The enemy had clawed off a chunk of his side and he was dying of loss of blood. But when I made to bandage his wounds, he protested:
Don't move me. My back is broken.
Valaree! Bluestone dies unless you come here!
And Suanshen dies if I leave her now!
I would later learn the situation was bad: the matriarch was not dead after all and it had surprised Whiteraven's group just when they thought victory was theirs. Suanshen was in a trance healing a wound that would otherwise have killed Falcon. They were both right next to the swordfoot's nest.
I could not ask her to leave Suanshen. Not just that she was my lovemate – she was the healer, and if she used her skills in the midst of battle it would only be to mend a lethal wound enough that it was not lethal anymore. To abandon her would mean the loss of two lives right then, but also all she would heal later. No, the choice I regret was that I had ordered Valaree to stay. I should have sent her to Kestrel and remained with Suanshen. If I had been there, I could have carried both healer and patient to safety. Few others among us were strong enough for that, and the delicate bone-shaper was not one of them. But no, I had wanted a kill to call my own.
Now I had it. And the price was horrible. Quiet, thoughtful Bluestone was dying and I could do nothing to help him. I thought I could not feel deeper sorrow, but then he sent to me, too weak to speak:
Arrowspeed. Did you kill him? Did you revenge my blood?
Yes. By my hand you are revenged, tribemate.
Tribemate… is that all you can name me, even in farewell?
We had been furmates, many years ago. I had forgotten how he could look at me with those blue eyes, so intensely, so full of a love I could not answer. I had given him all I could, but we both had known it was not enough and parted as friends. It seemed he had still cherished those feelings in secret. And now he would die in my arms.
I named him with all the pet-names I had once called him, from the beautiful right down to the silly ones. I buried my hand in his blue-black hair, I kissed his bloody lips, and I sang to him in sending a song we had made together.
He sighed and relaxed his face – it seemed as if his pain had left him.
Then he sent to me one last time.
I love you, and though I must die, my love will live.
He gave me his soulname. Just like that. And then he died.
I know not how long had passed, but when I lifted my head to cry his death to the hawks, many voices joined mine. Afterwards I looked around and saw Kestrel staring at me with Fountain, his mother and Bluestone's. With her had come Winter and Aval. Soon Whiteraven and Valaree joined us. Birdbone, Bowstring and Falcon had been healed just enough not to be in danger and carried away, along with the less grievously injured Blade and Summernight. They would all be bandaged and tended to with herbs and potions until Suanshen regained her strength. The healings had exhausted her and she now slept in Whiteraven's arms. Valaree went to have a look at Snowflake and quietly mended her pierced skull and bandaged the wound. She would live, despite the blood staining her white curls crimson.
As Valaree mended the bones in Kestrel's feet, he asked me:
"Why did my brother close his mind from mother and I?" Fountain was cradling Bluestone's broken body in her arms and weeping.
"He didn't close you out – he took me in. All the way to his soul. I'm sorry, Kestrel. I have wronged him and now I will never have the change to right it."
"Wronged him?" There was a challenge in his voice.
"He loved me, all these years, and I never saw it. Poor, shy Bluestone."
Kestrel grabbed my tunic in his arms. He tried to lift me but failed, floating himself to meet my eyes level. There was anger in his gaze.
"Arrowspeed, you heartless bloodthirsty good-for-nothing mater with trolls! You ravvit-brained barbarian! I should cut you to pieces and feed them to Bluestone's hawk!"
"Do it. If you think that would please his spirit, do it. I won't raise a hand against you."
"You know I can't. For his sake I can't. Curse you!"
He let go and turned away. I reached to touch his shoulder.
"If there is anything I can do…"
He struck me in the face, hard.
"Be silent!"
It galled me, but I obeyed. If only I had sent Valaree, Bluestone might still live. But I knew better than to admit that to Kestrel right then.
This is the story of my second battle-hunt. The kills that day went to Winter, Kestrel, Valaree, Blade, Fountain, myself, Summernight and Whiteraven. Five at least would have died if we'd had no healer or bone-shaper, as it was, we mourned one brave hunter, Bluestone. We gave his body to his bond-bird. His spirit joined the spirits of our ancestors in the jewel-walled Cave of Dreams. And of all that visited him there, only I knew the name to call him. Only I.