Page 66 of Gryphon in Light

Now it was obvious to Kel that Firesong was . . . annoyed. He had a good idea why. Here Firesong had planned out a very precise magical Working, all to be done by himself alone. He must have been calculating and charting and figuring ever since they let Kel become conscious again.

And now here were a bunch of creatures he didn’t even know who had invited themselves into the Working without so much as a “may I.”

No wonder he was irritated.

He was too good a mage and Adept to turn down help, however, especially help that came with a tinge of the Divine. Maybe more than a tinge. But that wasn’t going to stop him from being annoyed that all his careful plans had been interfered with without anyone asking permission.

As for Kel himself . . . well, any help that was going to prevent him from self-immolation was greatly to be desired.

He stood patiently while Firesong and Vindaria strapped on the breastplate. He shrugged and wiggled a little, but the Hawkbrother smith who had made this thing had known what he was doing. The considerable weight of the iron pyrite crystal was distributed so evenly across the breastplate that the straps holding it in place were not in the least annoying. No rubbing, no chafing. Everything perfectly balanced.

And if this works—when this works—I can fly again!

That alone was enough to make him eager to get it over with.

“Lie down here,” Firesong said, pointing at the center of the room. “And start growing those channels.”

Obediently, he went to the center of the room, lay down, and closed his eyes, concentrating on the weight at the center of his keelbone, where the embryonic Heartstone lay against his skin.

Carefully, because this was going to be perilously close to his heart, he concentrated on the spot where the cool of the iron touched his skin and bone. The bone was the important part; he’d learned from the book on gryphonic anatomy that Urtho had planned for gryphon bones to conduct magical energies, rather than nerves as happened in humans. And what he needed to do was literally change his skin and bone at that point, to allow the connection with the Heartstone to be as solid as the connection of a Vale Heartstone with the earth.

He felt his flesh responding to his will, as he drew down power from his virtutem and sent it flowing away from the organ, rather than to it. Like a nest, he told himself. A nest for a very strange bird.

He could not have told how long it took, but eventually he was satisfied. The connection was firm and strong, and more than that, reliable. And now it was time to grow the channels that would take power, not only from the virtutem, but at need, from the entire indusvenarum, and channel it into the Heartstone at his keel.

He sensed the other four working around him; sensed energies swirling in patterns he couldn’t follow, and changes happening in the stone itself. But he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; he had his job, and it was a job only he could do.

And as he inched the new channels closer and closer to their goals, he sensed more changes. First, Vindaria ended what she was doing, and joined her powers to his. Then first Jak, then Serenshey, encompassed him in protections, not unlike being cradled in enormous, gentle hands.

And then he waited, poised, for Firesong to energize the Stone and conclude the Work.

Anticipation filled him to the brim, leaving very little room for fear, though fear lurked in the background. It felt a little like it had when he was just a gryphlet, poised on the edge of the cliffside aerie in White Gryphon, wings spread, wind in his feathers, getting ready to make that first jump.

“Now!” Firesong shouted, clapping his hands together, and with an electric crack like lightning, he was galvanized.

The sensation was close to, but not exactly like, what had happened when Treyvan had concluded the Work in the Change-Circle. It felt as if every nerve and feather was on fire, but in a good way. As if he was full of life itself. As if he and this little Heartstone were one being, and they fit together like the bodies of lovers.

It was terrifying. And wonderful. His eyes snapped open. He saw the way clear to the door of his dwelling, with crackling energies still filling the room, and he stood up. Without another thought, he dashed for the door.

Out the door.

And leapt into the air, as he had on that day in Deedun.

But this time, this time was different. Energy filled him, energy coursed through him from every vane of every feather, but now it had somewhere to go. Into the Heartstone. Which took it in, arranged it all neatly, tamed it, and tamped it down, to make room for more energy. And more. And still more.

He sensed there were flaws in this new thing. He sensed there was a leak. But that was all right, he hadn’t expected things to be perfect, and it looked to him as if the energy was leaking harmlessly away into a ley-line below him. But the important point was that that power no longer needed to be burned off as fast as it came in, lest it turn into a very real, very physical conflagration.

And once again, he could fly!

Kel soared above the rainclouds, soaking in the sun, very glad that he was up here and not down where the expedition was slogging its way through more rain than he’d ever seen in his life, including in Deedun. The pillars of thunderheads boiled up on either side, flashing lightning continuously from neck to anvil. Gryphons weren’t lightning-attractors, but he was carrying a prototype Heartstone, and this was as much risk as he intended to take. There was disorganized magic in the lightning magnitudes beyond what he could survive a brush with. There was bravery, and then there was deserved disintegration.

They’d had no choice but to travel here, though, rain and all, because the distance at which any two Adepts could Gate these days was strictly limited to “about half as far as a gryphon can fly in a day.” Even with Kel serving as a power source, thanks to the Storms, that was the best anyone could do. It was rain all the way to the Lake, according to the limited scrying they’d done. It wasn’t “bad luck,” either; according to Serenshey, this massive storm was due to all of the magical chaos in the area. Urtho must have planned for his gryphons to deal with such chaos, because none of them, not even Kel, were having any trouble sifting magical energies out of the air to keep themselves in the air.

But it was lovely up here: sun on his back, clouds rolling under him like a tightly packed flock of sheep, and after not being able to fly for far too long, he was taking immense pleasure just in being able to soar. A gryphon belongs in the sky. I felt so . . . smothered on the ground.

Daria—she’d had no objection to being called “Daria,” even around the rest of the flight, and he couldn’t help but hope this boded well for the future—flew on his left, and an Iftel gryphon called Hathorn Archist at his right. The three of them were overflying the route the expedition would have to take, scanning the ground, looking for Change-Circles or any other magic-based hazards to avoid. Jak and a kyree named Owerll were covering the same ground afoot, somewhere almost immediately below them. For ground-traveling creatures, they were able to move almost as fast as he and the other gryphons could move. The rest of the kyree had ranged out on either side of the expedition, sniffing for trouble, and the three Ghost Cats were covering the rear. Hoping for trouble, he expected. They were clearly hoping for some adventure. Evidently being established between Errold’s Grove and k’Valdemar Vale was a bit too tame for their taste.

Not ideal, he mused. But the weather wasn’t going to greatly bother Jak, the kyree had water-shedding fur, and the Ghost Cat fighters had proclaimed loudly this morning that “a little rain wasn’t anything for a warrior to worry about.”