Disclaimer - Valdemar, Heralds and Companions are the works of Mercedes Lackey, and remain her sole and personal property. Firechild Legacy is a derivative fanfiction work not intended for publication or profit. Kahlen belongs to me.
Bunny angel – Thanks for the encouragement. Have Elspeth and Darkwind in this one, with more appearances to come.
Nona – thanks, and I'll try to be more regular on the updates.
Myuu-Foxgirl - Am trying to avoid, or at least tone down, the cliff hanger thing. As for Kahlen and Orwen, I'm undecided about a life bond. Elspeth and Darkwind do fine without one, afterall.
Hope you like! Please review.
Chapter 15 – A Fire in the Mind
:It is, as you say, a language.: Brytha said cautiously. :I can transfer it, but it will be hard.: The dyheli turned his large, cerulean eyes to Firesong, then on the young herald trainees, and Master Artificer Natoli. All were seated in the garden of Firesong's ekele, with the heralds' two Companions, Rand and Merrill, standing protectively near their Chosen.
A master mage in his own right, Brytha had partnered with the Tayledras adept for many years, and Firesong's radically changed appearance disturbed the dyheli more than he would admit. He'd known Firesong from his early youth, and had never seen him with other than the silver hair that marked the Tayledras mages. Now the adept's hair was a deep, shimmering black with only the faintest threading of silver, the once silver eyes a deep amethyst shot through with silver rays, his face disturbingly youthful. Only the eyes were old. The dry wit and subtle humor, so like the dyheli's own, were edged now with weariness and uncertainty. The dyheli glanced briefly at Kahlen, then lowered his muzzle to touch the adept's shoulder in mute support. He would follow Firesong's lead, as always.
Firesong had settled into a thick, silk cushion on the stone bench near the soaking pool in the ekele in Companion's Field. It had grown somewhat in the years since he'd first built it, as other Taleydras had ventured here in obedience to the Goddess' command to build ties of kinship and mutual defense with the peoples of Valdemar. It comforted him now. He looked curiously at the dark-haired, serious young woman seated next to Kahlen, then at the pale, haunted face of his newest protégé.
Soul sister. Child of the strange blending they'd undergone a few nights ago, when he'd saved her life and she, in turn, had saved his. Her memories still haunted his sleep, had left him sobbing in Silverfox's arms several times when memories blended with dreams turned to nightmare. Oddly, Natoli's presence seemed to comfort them both. The young woman had displayed remarkable good sense during the mage storms, and time had only matured and strengthened her. He looked at Kahlen with compassion, and growing concern. Something had changed in the young herald's amethyst eyes, something she'd not yet revealed. There was incipient panic lurking there, and a bruised pallor that called to his healing instincts. She belonged in bed, he thought uneasily, well doused with a sleeping draught.
"So, young Kahlen." He kept his voice calm. "You wish Brytha's assistance in transferring your knowledge to Natoli?" Kahlen shivered abruptly and bowed her head.
"Just so." She whispered. "And – and to yourself, Master Firesong." Her eyes returned to meet his with an odd, pleading intensity.
"I'm not afraid." Natoli answered with a confidence she did not truly feel. The youngest Master in the Artificer's Collegium, Kahlen's abrupt request to share her knowledge of the "high art," as Kahlen called it, had unnerved her. Yet her hunger to master the concepts Kahlen had shared with her and the other collegium masters remained unabated. Mathematics, yes, but so much more! Master Levy had been dismayed that Kahlen had not been to attend classes these past few days. All of the masters were eager to obtain and understand the knowledge Kahlen had shown them. The new concepts might well hold the key to safely tapping mage energy, even ley lines, in ways that could fuel devices that anyone could use. But Master Levy, while willing, was considerably older than most of the Blues. Natoli was younger, stronger, and more able to deal with the strenuous demands of dyheli mind techniques. Brytha's eyes caught and held hers for a moment, and he dipped his head in silent agreement to her thoughts.
"You should be." Firesong rebuked her gently. He held out both arms, a rueful smile on that perfect face, and sighed. "Look what dabbling in Kahlen's knowledge did to me, child. I did not seek this change, Natoli, I was content with who and what I was."
It was true, Kahlen thought, her mind steeped in misery. She still felt guilty over what she'd done to the Tayledras adept. And it was nothing compared to what she would – must - do. Rand dropped his muzzle onto her shoulder, offering comfort and an unnerving certainty that she was doing what was necessary. She felt Josseran shift uneasily behind her, then move closer and deliberately put his hand on her shoulder. He'd brought her boots, seen what was afoot, and refused to leave. She closed her eyes, and refused to cry. Would he still be her friend, after this? Yet she could still see no other choice. The knowledge must be preserved. Natoli might – barely - grasp the concepts, but only Firesong had the skill and innate ability to actually use it.
"Master Firesong." Kahlen leaned forward, then glanced around. Too small, this miniature haven he'd created. Too small for all her purposes, but it would do for a beginning. "Natoli is a last measure, that my knowledge not be lost. But she has knowledge of her own that you also need, that bridges the gap between what you hold in your own right, and what I must give you. You use mage power intuitively, Master Firesong, and you've learned much of the sciences taught here – more than most know. But you will need more."
Natoli laughed, a little nervously. "Firesong is a gifted intuitive thinker, Kahlen, but he's not a scholar – but forgive me." She shook her head, then regarded the adept with new speculation. "But you'd have to be, wouldn't you? No one reaches master class, let alone adept, without intensive study. And the way you picked up the math, during the mage storms…"
"Firesong learned far more in Urtho's Tower than he's revealed." Kahlen murmured, flushing at her invasion of his privacy. But she knew him, as he knew her. The bonding of that desperate healing had eased a bit, but would never fade. And his eyes were still haunted with nightmares – hers, and no way to take them back. "He's also studied most of the Collegium's writings on mathematics, since then."
Natoli stared at the Adept in surprise and growing admiration. "Master Firesong, you are a fraud."
Firesong shrugged uncomfortably. "I believed magic was intuitive, more art than science. I still do." He sighed. "But then, I believe mathematics is far more intuitive than, shall we say, Master Levy." A hint of the old, arrogant humor shimmered briefly in his eyes.
Kahlen stared at them both, confused. "But mathematics is intuitive."
"To you, perhaps." Natoli leaned over and patted the herald-trainee's hand. "But most of us must go the long way around – step by step – whereas you, Kahlen, you simply fly." To Natoli's surprise, Kahlen flinched away.
Oh, yes. She rubbed nervous hands over her face. That I can do.
Firesong stood, watching them both with troubled eyes. "Well enough, then. What do you need us to do, Kahlen?"
He was going to trust her, she realized miserably. Without further explanation, or permissions, or safeguards. And he knew. He'd seen her without shields. Kahlen's voice shook. "Best we all sit on the ground, then." She dropped abruptly onto the cool grass. Natoli shrugged and did the same, albeit more gracefully. The adept sighed, then folded himself to the ground in a smooth, effortless motion, and nodded to his dyheli companion.
Firesong weathered the initial transfer of knowledge from Natoli without passing out, although he paled a bit. Natoli was not so fortunate. Brytha went carefully into Kahlen's mind, and gingerly transcribed the carefully warded knowledge she'd marked for transfer to Natoli. He went further though, and shielded the knowledge from Natoli's conscious mind – and from his own. Just brushing against the concepts made him…dizzy.
When Natoli roused a few moments later, she looked green. She slowly pushed herself to a sitting position, then simply dropped her head into her hands. "Sunfires." She gasped. "I feel like a herd of dyheli just ran through my head." Kahlen leaned forward and touched the young artificer's forehead, then breathed a sigh of relief. The shields were holding. The knowledge would feed slowly into Natoli's conscious mind, but at a rate that would not overwhelm her. It didn't matter that she didn't have the Gifts needed to actually use it – she would hold it safely at need, for those who did. Natoli nodded gratefully as Josseran handed her a flask of the strong, herbal tea used to treat the headache of overused mindgifts and downed it quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste.
"You won't be needed for this next part, Natoli." Kahlen said quietly. She turned quickly to the dyheli, before her nerve failed completely, and her face was white with tension. "If you would, Master Brytha. From me to Firesong. Now." This time the knowledge was not shielded. This time Kahlen transferred everything, unstinted and in pitiless detail. Let Firesong hate her after this, if only he survived with mind and Gift intact. She might have faltered, even so, were it not for Rand's firm, implacable conviction that they had no choice.
Josseran cried out in dismay as both Kahlen and Firesong stiffened, then collapsed. The boy settled uncertainly beside Kahlen, cradling her head in his lap and staring at Natoli with wide, frightened eyes. Natoli stirred uncomfortably as minutes flew by, then leaned forward in growing concern. A dyheli trance normally lasted only a few moments. This one was taking too long. Far too long. Natoli looked uncertainly at Josseran, and his eyes reflected her own anxiety. Josseran eased Kahlen back onto the ground then abruptly pushed to his feet and mindcalled his Companion. "I'm going for Healer Devan, Master Natoli." Healers first, he thought, his concern moving closer to panic as neither Firesong nor Kahlen moved.
Natoli eased forward onto her knees and gently shook Firesong, then Kahlen, to no effect. She bit her lip, then caught Josseran's eye and shook her head. "Get Master Darkwind first, Josseran. I don't – I don't think the healers can help with this." Natoli and Josseran were still arguing when Firesong struggled to a sitting position, groaning softly.
They both moved to his side as he held his head in his hands, drawing short, panting breaths. Natoli's concern deepened when she brushed a hand over the adept's forehead. "He's burning up." This was not normal.
Both companions approached, whickering uneasily. Rand nudged Kahlen, then jerked up in alarm. Mirrell dropped swiftly to her knees and nudged for Josseran to mount. The boy placed both hands on her withers and swung forward, balancing his weight on his hands, then threw a leg over her back. "Darkwind first, then." The boy leaned forward as his Companion whirled, sped through the gate and headed for the palace complex.
Alberich was taking Kantor over the advanced equestrian training course when the vision struck. His harsh cry barely alerted the two trainees following closely on Kantor's heels. Kantor barely managed to turn, using his own massive body to prevent the youngsters' Companions from trampling his Chosen. Alberich hit the ground hard, managed to roll to break the momentum, then lay gasping, one arm flung over his eyes. Fire, blazing around them, held barely in check by shields that wavered and surged in desperate fury. Aerial forms – gryphons? – whirling in savage combat. The boy, drawing back in desperate resolve, raising fledgling shields of his own as his Companion screamed and sought a futile path to safety… It ended as abruptly as it had come, and he found himself on hands and knees, blood staining his greys while two white-faced trainees tried to keep him from rising.
"Please, sir, you might have broken -"
"No time…" Alberich gasped. The side of his head was numb and he felt blood trickling down his face, but there was no time. Kantor stood rock still as he pulled himself up, leaned a moment against the big stallion's side, then struggled back into the saddle. He did not pause to weigh consequences, only desperate necessity. His gray eyes caught and held the trainees, and his voice lashed out, harsh with desperation. "Don't follow me. Get help. The old grove." He'd barely settled into the saddle when Kantor surged forward. Alberich reached out mentally. :Devan! In the Field. Near Kahlen's first arrival point, I think:
Confusion and alarm swirled through the healer's mind. Briefly, Alberich caught an overlaid image of Selanay's office, of young Orwen collapsed against a dark leather chair, glowing, fading.:No time!: Grimly, Alberich broke the link and reached out mentally for Kahlen. The girl had strong mindspeech, as strong as his, and Kantor was screaming a mental warning to Rand. He could only pray they could be reached in time…
Kahlen struggled awake with the echo of the weaponsmaster's vision still slamming through her mind and panic rising in its wake. :Alberich?: No answer, only a wordless sense of fear and desperation. And the unmistakable surge of an incoming gate. Not a gate wielded by the western adepts of her new home, but that of an older, other heritage. Heart pounding, she struggled up and grasped Rand's mane, willing herself to move. Something grasped her, thrust her up onto his broad back. Kahlen did not stop to question it. Her eyes flashed once to a startled Natoli, then to Firesong. The adept's eyes were clouded with pain but he'd managed to sit up, still reeling under the bewildering array of knowledge she'd thrust upon him. She reached down and grasped Natoli's hand. "Stay here – and keep Firesong here, and safe. Please." The humming in the air grew louder, throbbing with power. Rand bounded forward in growing alarm.
Merrill and Josseran were halfway to the palace complex when the surge of energy struck so closely to them that the Companion was thrown sideways, off her feet, shrilling in pain. Josseran was flung from her back, his own cries drowned by the ragged hum of power as he crashed into the ground with bruising force. For a scant moment he blacked out – and when his vision cleared he was sure he'd gone mad. Something speared down out of an endless sky, a black rimmed vortex, free standing in air that shimmered with heat and impossible power. A void shimmered before him, pulled at him, struggled to rip open, beyond the confines of the power that held it, struggling to break into the world. And suddenly it didn't matter that his training had barely begun. Didn't matter that his power was new found and fledgling. What mattered was that Merrill was down, and hurt – and that he was the only herald-mage at hand. He'd never centered so quickly, or surely. Feet planted, he did the impossible – threw a shield around the black void. Denied it a grip on the land, the air. Denied it a grip on his mind, his soul. Forced it to turn from its unknown target to focus on him alone. And held.
Brytha took a hesitant step after the Companion, then whirled as Firesong stumbled to his feet, groaning. Natoli grabbed him before he could fall, then gasped and stepped back in fear. The adept's dark eyes were glowing, his face white with shock. His hands glowed with gathering power, and heat poured off him in waves.
"Oh Gods… Natoli, get in the pool and stay there. Stay down." The adept suddenly shoved her into the water. She came up, sputtering and gasping, too surprised to be outraged or angry. Her arm burned where he'd touched her. The dyheli plunged in after her, herding her toward the deep end of the pool. "Under the waterfall!" She'd never before heard fear in Firesong's voice, but she heard it now – fear, and outrage. Unnerved, she began to struggle out of the pool, but Brytha seized her mind and she found herself swept into obedience. Firesong had braced himself against the stone gateposts, then pushed himself upright and raised his hands. Power flared around him and enveloped the adept's slender form in blinding light. She cried out and wrapped both arms over her head. When she could see again, he was gone.
Kahlen threw herself off Rand's back and in front of Josseran a bare instant before the forces converging within the gate struck. She made no effort to block them. Instead, she absorbed them, vanishing into a fireball of energies that came within a scant breath of destroying the boy where he lay. The fireball lunged forward, taking the deadly heat farther away from Josseran. Merrill heaved herself to her feet, staggered to her Chosen and, gripping his tunic in her teeth, pulled him farther away from the searing heat. Rand joined her, lending a shoulder to keep her upright. A low keening came from the big mare as she frantically pulled the boy farther from danger.
White fire swirled through Kahlen, and a with it a growing rage. She used it, let it grow and swell – and triggered the change. A moment of blind panic, then she felt the flow begin, stretching outwards, growing, absorbing power from the sun – and from the heartstone beneath the palace complex – power that the two creatures that swelled into being within the gate did not have. The first, hesitated, coalesced, and faced her.
:I see you, Kahlen.:
:I see you, Hakan.: She answered steadily, as her new form took on substance – a slender, serpentine body, razor edged wings rimmed in fire and diamond tipped talons that blinded the eye. Her sinuous spine, wings and tail were tipped in deadly spikes, each joint barbed, clawed and armored with scales bright enough to sear the eye. :Hakan. Chenoj.: And her heart grieved for them even as her mind firmed, rock hard, against pity. :I thought you'd died in the trials.:
:Soren willed it otherwise.: Hakan answered softly, and with regret. His fire form had matured, she noted absently. The wings were now broader than her own and black, a starless void that refused to gleam even in the day's lightHis body shimmered with dark fires, lithe and serpent strong and deadly.And sunfire gleamed within the amethyst eyes. Fire that could kill her, even in this form. :You chose to rebel, and let the storm makers enslave you instead, to use you to thwart the I'nadazi. We were made to serve them, Kahlen, hybrid children of their very blood! Not to play power games within the human empires. You were too weak!:
:I was too strong.: Kahlen replied evenly, raising her own power even as she tested Hakan's shields. :Too strong to be a mindless tool to the I'nadazi. Too weak, perhaps, to death duel with my own kind, and children at that, and for no better reason than that Soren commanded it!: The old grief welled up in her, then transmuted to rage. Chenoj hovered behind his companion, thrusting power lances at her own defenses. :Too weak, perhaps, to be used to make the killing sickness that decimated Granite, and all who lived there, or to permit it to be let loose into the world.:
:Traitor!: Hakan screamed, his mindvoice filled with pain and rage. :You fled, you and Sethren Worldwalker, to serve the cursed storm makers. But for them, the I'nadazi might have left this world, and taken us with them – or left us free at the last! But we will yet defeat them. First the storm makers, then the blood sickness, once it has weakened them. Soren will wrest mastery of the world gates from your human masters and we will return home!:
:Hakan, please! These western wizards – they never made the storms, they only found a way to stop them. The storms were echoes out of time – echoes of the first storms, that first drew the I'nadazi into this world. These people are not enemies. The I'nadazi were wrong! Soren was wrong. And this plague they have made will destroy more – far more – than they intended.: For a moment she saw doubt in Hakan's eyes, and a fledgling hope flickered in her own. But her one-time creche-mate hardened in his resolve.
:You cannot defeat us both, so you resort to more lies. Die then, Firechild.: A blast of raw power tore through the air between them. Chenoj darted forward, adding his own, weak flamse to Hakan's. Green it was, but deadly nevertheless.
Desperation made her wrap her wings forward, dropping momentarily to earth so that her shields could extend along her wings, protecting both herself and the two Companions. And Josseran, if he still lived. Fire leapt from her own eyes, but rebounded violently from Hakan's shields. Hakan was right, she could not hope to fight them both unaided. At best, she might buy time – enough to send a wordless cry to Elspeth, Darkwind, Trevyan – anyone with sight and power to hear, with mage-gift enough to help.
She was faster than she had been – the months of strenuous training with Alberich and Orwen had transmuted into surprising speed in agility in both her human and fire forms – and she had the advantage on the ground. And power – she should have been depleted now – yet when she reached desperately for more, the heartstone beneath the palace answered that need – and through it she felt Elspeth and Darkwind's awareness, and their swift approach. Shock echoed back through the stone as the two adepts reached the edge of the field and saw her – and her foes. Swift, fire-wrapped forms, winged creatures that dwarfed even the gryphons. Yet the two to one odds were wearing her down, the power harder to grasp and hold – and Hakan was driven now by more than rage. Compulsion drove him now, and a terrible fear he would not – could not – acknowledge. Chenoj hovered, excitement pulsing through his fireform – a swift, winged drake in bewildering shades of green that seemed to fade into the sky. She risked a bolt in his direction, forcing him up and away from the ground, and from the two Companions.
Something else struck Chenoj, causing him to dart to her left, his ire focused suddenly on the ground, and on Rand. He spat fire at the Companion – and something white and bristling with flames rose to intercept. Whips of fire lashed forward, striking Chenoj across the face, and a scream of rage rent the air. Almost, she struck at this new threat.
:Kahlen!: She sent a wordless cry of acknowledgement, and surged forward to join the whirl of wings and outrage that was Firesong. The transformed adept rose clumsily, winging desperately for height, then whipped both wings forward. Fire blazed from the leading edges, searing the air, and driving Hakan farther into the sky. She barely managed to break his fall, landing heavily with the adept's fireform striking her across back and wings. But Elspeth and Darkwind were ready now, with shields and firebolts of there own. They struck upward together, drawing as one on the Haven heartstone. The attackers wavered, then cried out as the gate hummed and formed in the sky behind them, pulled them into the black vortex. Firesong shrieked in warning, rising back into the air, seeking greater height. Hakan screamed once in fear and frustration as the gate swallowed him and his companion, and thunder boomed relentlessly through a suddenly empty sky.
Kahlen spun rapidly, torn between Josseran's need and Firesong's. When Alberich and Kantor plunged into the clearing she fully expected them to attack her, and back winged uncertainly. But she could not leave Josseran, and Firesong… a thin, keening cry escaped her. The fireform above her hovered uncertainly, then called wearily in return and settled to the ground, shivering.
Alberich started at the glittering creature, torn between fear and wonder, then glanced over at – all he could think of was a firebird – save this one was feathered in light, with eyes of gleaming, faceted amethyst and a body gilded in palest silver. And impoosibly large. Larger that Treyvan. He turned back to the first creature. Not a bird, this one – serpent lithe, and armored in gleaming white crystal, edged with blue. Winged and clawed, but like no gryphon he'd ever seen. "Kahlen?" The creature nodded cautiously, then settled carefully to the ground and dissolved into a pool of light that shrank and coalesced into an exhausted, disheveled young woman.
She sank onto the ground before him. Her hands shook as she fingered the thin grey silk of her tunic. So long, since she'd taken the fireform. But Alberich's attention had already gone past her, and he was running toward the firebird – avatar – heedless of the random flames that enfolded it, with Elspeth and Darkwind hard on his heels. Elspeth paused held out both hands and pulled Kahlen to her feet, and helped keep her on her feet until they reached the transformed adept. "Call him." She said hoarsely. "Gods, if he can't -"
"Fire and ash, it was too soon." Kahlen moaned, but raised her hands and laid them flat against the creature's flaming side. :Firesong! Come back. Remember us. Come back!:
He did not want to hear her. He was drowning in firesong – in energies he'd only dreamed of. The sky called him to flight, and to freedom. Endless sky. Endless space. The barriers between the planes shimmered and thinned, and beckoned him to new realities and new wonders. He shook off the faint voices that called to him, wanting them to go away. If he could just figure out these wings – and the air – it was so close! The knowledge, and the freedom. Other voices called now, children's voices, that he'd trained and nurtured over the years. Elspeth. Darkwind. He wanted the wind, the sky! But the voices refused to leave him alone.
:Firesong. Please.: The fear and longing in the voices irritated him, made him pause. If only they would go away! Sounds of weeping. Pain called to him. Sighing, he turned back to the voices. The sky would have to wait. He was a healer, after all. He looked down at himself, at fire and crystal that echoed of another form he'd once made. Smaller, feathers laced with magery, impervious to flame. Aya? Aya, it was, whose patterns he'd once shaped in a fire of creation the exuberance of his youth. Had taken now, in desperate need, and reshaped for this new form. The bright wings rose and blazed in wordless protest against the loss of that beckoning freedom, then faded, shrank into mere human flesh, and he pitched forward into Darkwind's arms.
"I can't …save them both." Devan trembled from the strain of keeping Josseran alive, then glanced desperately at the fallen adept. He'd arrived scant moments after Firesong had wrenched himself back into human form, but had gone immediately to the fallen Herald-trainee. Mage shock, and severe enough he was amazed that the boy was even alive. The boy's Companion had collapsed next to him, her eyes glazed as she continued to feed the boy energy through their bond.
Alberich knelt beside them, gray-faced with the backlash of his own gift. "You must save the adept then." He said hoarsely. Harsh blue light flickered in those gray eyes. Foresight, Devan knew, and cursed softly. He glanced hopefully at Elspeth, but she only nodded her consent, eyes flooded in wordless grief. Lifting his hands from the dying boy was the hardest thing Devan had ever done, and tears streamed unashamed down his face as he transferred his attention to the adept.
No. Kahlen watched with disbelieving eyes as Alberich gathered the boy to his chest, weeping openly. Slowly it dawned on her – Josseran. Merrill. Both would die, at the word of this man. She stepped forward, not knowing what she intended, when a flicker of light touched the air beside the kneeling weaponsmaster, grew, took shape, and met her eyes with urgent need. Orwen solidified for a bare moment within the light. He flashed her that reckless grin she'd only seen when they crossed blades in the salle, then bent and lifted the boy from Alberich's nerveless grasp. An instant later they had both vanished, lost in the fading light.
Okay. No cliff hanger, merely the end to an action scene. Comments, please!