Chapter 28: of Hawkbrothers and mutant plants
Conrad gasped, gritting his teeth against the intense wave of purely mental pain that washed over him as Vanyel stepped through the Gate. He had never felt pain this bad since he had pretended to be Belar's man more than 7 years ago. The moment Shinou had asked him to play the part of traitor for the good of his people, he knew that his betrayal would cause a rift between him and the rest of the royal family. It had called his honor and loyalty into question – he knew and accepted the fact that he would never be able to go home. He never even expected Yuri to pardon his actions, or even expected his king to go through such efforts to bring him home. The entire experience had been an extended exercise in emotional pain – yet the worst part of the whole thing, the most agonizing event in a long list of painful events, was the look of complete and utter betrayal in Yozak's eyes at the Ultimate Fighter tournament!
The feeling of his friend frantically reaching for his mind while he deliberately blocked the other man out – that and that alone had almost broken him. Going through the Gate wasn't quite as bad because he didn't have the pain of his betrayal lancing down his bond with Yozak to deal with this time. However, it would appear that their bond had gotten tighter since then, especially because the purely physical distance between them was suddenly an agony all its own. He closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to disentangle himself from the pain. For the first time in more than thirty years, he was trying to isolate the part of the bond that was him, not Yozak.
It took a few minutes, but finally the pain lessened to a dull throb at the back of his head. A few minutes more, and the throb was purely spiritual.
: Are you better, Chosen?: Vanyel asked quietly.
Conrart blinked and the world slid lazily back into focus. "I'm fine, thanks." He replied aloud. After a second's hesitation he switched to the more intimate caress of Mindspeech and added, : I just didn't expect Gating to be that painful. According to everything I've been told and that I've read, it's not supposed to hurt. :
Vanyel sighed. : Gating itself shouldn't be painful, unless you have some reason to be sensitive to the gate's energy – which you don't. What you felt was the backlash of your . . . of your bond to your friend being pulled too thin. It will pass, Chosen. :
Conrart inclined his head and silently thanked his Companion. With a small sigh, he looked around and found himself in the middle of an enormous forest. Flower bearing vines hung from the branches of enormous trees – they were so large that it would have taken more than 50 men standing with arms outstretched to encircle their mighty trunks. Each of the flowers was the size of his hand, and the smallest of the orange, red, and golden yellow leaves were about the size of a saddle.
He sat – quietly – atop Vanyel's back trapped somewhere between awe and terror. If this was the Forest, what were the animals like? Scratch that – he bloody well knew what the local wildlife was like. He'd heard quite a few of Darkwind's scouting tales; tales that told of deadly and intelligent predators like the Change-Lions and Wyrsa.
He shuddered at the thought of Wyrsa.
The creatures were quite literally the stuff of nightmares – and not even growing up in a land that had declared Dragons an endangered species and passed laws to protect them could change that!
Wyrsa were a construct species, created by one of the Old Adepts during the Mage Wars in an attempt to mimic the Kyree. They looked like a sinister cross between a viper and a greyhound, and were venomous predators that fed on Mage energy. Wyrsa were pack oriented creatures that shared a collective intelligence – that made them all the more difficult to kill.
Abruptly, his instincts screamed a warning – they were no longer alone. He reached out with his gifts trying to pinpoint the watcher, and came up empty handed. According to his other senses, there was nothing there, no one watching them . . . his mundane senses on the other hand were screaming at him.
After 85 years in the military, he'd learned to trust those senses, no matter what his Heraldic Gifts were telling him. Just because you felt paranoid, it didn't mean that you were wrong. He shifted in his saddle and scanned the area around him, all of his senses alert; his hand dropped to his sword, slender fingers cradling the familiar hilt.
The slightest of movements caught his attention and he turned his head, scrutinizing the vegetation around them. "Chikushou-!" (Son of a -!) He muttered, as he realized they were surrounded, literally. Without pausing to think, he reached for his mentor's mind with his own. Swiftly he gave her the relative positions of their seven unannounced visitors, including the three personas hiding in the trees.
~~~***~~~
Holly blinked when she felt Conrart's mind brush her own. She traveled here often enough to know the drill. They'd gate and several Hawkbrother scouts would show up to ensure that they were indeed the visitors they had been expecting. Then, after it had been established that they were indeed the proper guests, they would be led through the forest to the Vale.
If she'd been alone there wouldn't be a problem, but since she had the boy with her… he became an extra variable. He'd have to be made a wingsib before he was allowed to set foot in the Vale.
According to Conrart they were surrounded, one scout in front of them, one behind, one on either side, and three in the trees above their heads. That sounded about right, given the xenophobic nature of the Hawkbrothers. She was impressed in spite of herself. The Tayledras people had long ago perfected the art of appearing to be part of the forest. In fact to mage sight, the Vales looked little more than a part of the land around it, and individuals looked like nothing more than young trees. To make matters worse, scouts wore clothing in shades of green, grey and brown that was specifically designed to blend into the surrounding forest. The effect was so greatly perfected that the scouts literally faded into the background whenever they stood still.
The fact that Conrart had spotted even one of them was a minor miracle. The boy had to be either extremely observant or he had abnormally keen eyesight - or both.
She noticed that he'd dropped Van's reins and that his sword-hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade. However, he didn't draw the weapon – at least the boy had self preservation instincts. What she didn't understand was why he'd flipped open the lid of his water-skin.
Without warning, the vegetation directly in front of them moved forward and after a minute resolved itself into a man – and one she recognized at that!
It had been three years since she'd last seen him, but it was definitely Riversong. Holly couldn't help but smile. "Hello, Riversong how have you been?" she asked quietly.
"I've been fine, thank you Holly." He replied, though he kept his eyes on Conrart, who Holly was glad to note had let go of his sword hilt.
She noticed how the boy closed the canteen as well, and now sat quietly atop Van's back doing a very good impression of a helpless young nobleman. She rolled her eyes; Conrart gave off the air of somebody who would be helpless if you separated him from his Companion and sword. Yet she knew he was far from helpless. No Herald could ever truly be helpless while unarmed, their teachers saw to that at least.
"Who is he?" Riversong asked.
She didn't need to ask for clarification. "He is Herald Conrart." She replied mildly, and then added "the circle saw fit to give me an intern. It's a bit unexpected but at any rate his training is my responsibility for the next 18 months." This wasn't her idea and she wanted to make sure Riversong knew it. It wasn't that she didn't like the young internee; on the contrary, his behavior a few minutes ago impressed her to no end. However, she had sworn that she would not lead strangers onto Tayledras lands.
"Is he wingsib to K'Valdemar vale, like you and the vast majority of your envoys?" Riversong inquired, throwing his arm up so that his Bondbird could land. The enormous Hawk-owl landed lightly and carefully hopped up his arm to sit calmly on his shoulder.
She shuddered at the idea of how close that wickedly curved beak was to his eyes. Only the Hawkbrothers could stand there calmly having a conversation with a raptor large enough to kill a man perched upon their shoulders. "No, there wasn't the time to have him made into a wingsib. I returned from a short assignment only this morning and was informed that they had given me an internee. Apparently, he's uniquely suited to serve as an envoy to the Vales and to White Gryphon."
Riversong sighed. "He will have to stay outside of the Vale until he is made a wingsibling." He announced, reaching up to stroke the plush feathers of his bondbird's breast. "The Clan trusts your judgment, Holly, after all, you are of K'Valdemar Vale and not K'Treva. Do you trust him? Do you think he will be able to take the oaths required and keep an open mind? I know most people not of the clans shutter at the mere thought of communal bathing, and cannot understand our openness and acceptance in regards to those who share a bed."
Holly groaned. "Honestly, I don't know the boy that well yet. I met him only a Candlemark ago, so I can't answer you with any certainty. He was 'gently born' I can tell you that just by looking at him, and historically it has always been the highborn who are touchy on the subject of shay pairings. Something about carrying on the family line and lineage – I've never really understood it, but then again I was born a street urchin. However, I can tell you that the Crown wouldn't send a Herald to you who they didn't think capable of adapting quickly."
Riversong opened his mouth to speak, but Conrart beat him to it, muttering something under his breath that was just too low for her to make out.
"I can assure you the thought of communal baths and relationships between people of the same gender are hardly something I would consider a novelty," Conrart informed them both in near flawless Tayledras "since both are quite common in my culture."
Riversong blinked, and then he laughed. Holly on the other hand could only gape at her young internee. "Well, that's a good thing, and if your own people share our sensibilities in regards to love then I am sure you will do fine here. Out of curiosity, where did you learn to speak our language? You speak it like a native, yet you have a very slight accent so I know you weren't given it by one of the Dyheli. That and your vocabulary seems to be a bit archaic."
"Vanyel taught me actually. When I first arrived in Valdemar he said it was likely I would eventually have dealings with the clans, so I learned as much of your language as possible," Conrart replied, leaning forward so that he rested against the curve of his Companion's neck.
Holly blinked, and finally regained command of her tongue. "How did you manage to find the most famous Companion on the field, and convince him to even talk to you – let alone teach you the command of a completely foreign and highly complicated tongue?"
As usual she couldn't read Conrart's expression. However, it was an unfamiliar mindvoice that answered her. : I wasn't that hard to find, all things considered; finding him so that I could actually Choose him was by far more strenuous than actually teaching him command of the Tayledras language – he's a fast learner. :
The stallion took a step forward and continued, with his mental voice still pitched to broad send, although it was clear his words were for Riversong's benefit. : As to who will stand as a sponsor for my Chosen, I would do it myself, if it were possible. But even if you were willing to let me stand as his sponsor, despite the fact that I technically stopped being a member of the living centuries ago, I am unwilling to leave my Chosen alone beyond the safety of the Vale's shields. As such may I inquire if Firesong is currently in residence? If not, would you be so kind as to find me one of my other descendents so that I may ask one of them to stand as sponsor to my Chosen? :
Riversong smiled, his eyes gaining the slightly unfocused look of somebody using Mindspeech to speak with another. "He's on his way," he said after a moment, his eyes clearing.
~~~***~~~
Firesong was more than a little surprised when Riversong's mind touched his own. The scout was in contact with him only long enough to inform him that his presence was required out by the Gate site. This was an interesting request to be sure, particularly since there was no urgency in his mental voice. He shrugged his shoulders, bid his Lifebond lover Silverfox a heartfelt goodbye, and set off for the gate site, launching his Bondbird Aya into the air.
It didn't take long to reach the Gate site by Dyheli back, so he left his long time friend waiting for him under the shade of a massive tree and walked the last few kilometers to the Gate site, ready to defend himself and the seven scouts from any danger if he had to, and trusting in Aya to give him forewarning.
What he found when he arrived truly startled him. Riversong stood quietly talking with a somewhat familiar Herald-mage. Holly looked slightly put out as she leaned casually against Rohanan's well muscled shoulder. The other scouts stood nearby, especially Honeyfeather who was talking animatedly with a young man dressed in Heraldic Whites. He snorted at his young cousin's antics—at 14 Honeyfeather was old enough to be considered an adult, but she was still likely to flirt with anything male.
He reached for her mind with his own; the uniform and the Companion the man was currently leaning against told them he was a Herald and thus trustworthy. But it still wouldn't do to have her drop her guard simply because someone appeared to be safe.
: Since when do you worry so much, cousin? : Honeyfeather retorted, and then added. : Besides, he's cute. :
Firesong let his eyes roam over the young man… Oh if only he wasn't lifebonded. The lad was actually quite handsome - in a delicately, effeminate sort of way. He was possibly even more effeminate looking then his famed ancestor the legendary herald-mage Vanyel had been. Long almost light cinnamon brown hair touched with red and gold highlights fell just past his shoulders, and complemented his solemn, quiet eyes. He was tall, about 6 feet, maybe even a bit taller, with broad shoulders that tapered to a surprisingly slim waist, and long shapely legs. Lithe, that was the only way he could think to describe the boy. Even through his clothing, Firesong could tell the boy was leanly muscled.
Down boy, He berated himself mildly. You are happily lifebonded, even if he does have a rather shapely ass and enticingly long legs. And his delicate throat… I just want to -
: Are you – quite- done ogling my Chosen, Grandson? :
Firesong jumped a good three feet and turned his attention to the Companion stallion in front of him. "Vanyel," he gasped, mouth hanging open in surprise. "Ancestor, is that truly you?"
: The very same—now you might want to close your mouth, unless you want your bondbird nesting in there. : Vanyel's response was tart, and the stallion pawed the ground in an almost threatening manner.
: Okay, so beautiful boy Chosen is off limits. I get it, I get it. No need to kill me, Ancestor. : Firesong replied mildly.
Vanyel snorted derisively but he stopped pawing the ground, and became a little more amiable despite his laidback ears. : Actually, you don't get it, but I trust that you won't do anything. He is lifebonded, though he's being stubborn and refusing to acknowledge the fact, and thus is off limits. :
Firesong looked at the boy in a new light. He was no longer looking at his body for its aesthetic appeal, but rather in an attempt to read the other man's body language. Idly he wondered how in the nine hells he'd overlooked the rather obvious stubborn streak. : You have my word that he'll get not but friendship out of me ancestor. He is a stubborn one I can see that, it looks like you'll have your work cut out for you with him. That aside, why did they call for me? :
Firesong blinked as Vanyel gave a slight tug on a mental line he'd only just noticed and a new mind brushed his own. He smiled as Vanyel explained the problem and what he wanted of him. It wouldn't be a problem he decided; Vanyel was after all family. That made young Conrart family of a sort.
"It would be my honor, Ancestor." He proudly replied, then he turned and looked at the man the gods had seen fit to match with his ancestor. He could see how he would be worthy of Vanyel and thus worthy of the clans. "Welcome to the clan, little brother."
~~~***~~~
Conrart sighed and settled himself down against a smoothly carved stone bench set into the wall of an old cave. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, content to wait for the ceremony to come. He doubted that he would sleep, but if he did happen to, he knew Vanyel would keep him safe. He spent these hours of isolation from what was to become his clan silently reminiscing about the past. He thought about his childhood, and the games that he'd played with Yozak.
He remembered the pain of his little brother's sudden disgust with him after the boy had discovered his mixed heritage; he looked over his life before the war, and since. He thought of his joy when his Godson took the throne and his minor amusement at the fact that the boy's mother had named him after a word he'd mentioned in passing the day where they'd shared a cab together before she'd given birth. In some ways it really was quite funny that their king's name literally meant July.
Finally, about two hours before sunset, he fell into a light doze.
~~~***~~~
A.N.
Okay so here's the next chapter and I have a few more written that still require editing so hang in there please read and review.