Page 77 of Gryphon in Light

Then he got a surprise. And so did Uglik, Rina, and Tutack. Serenshey gathered himself, as if he was about to jump, and fire exploded out of him as he screamed a hellish feline battle-howl. That fire leapt from him to the Ghost Cat fighters’ weapons—axe, sword, and sword—and engulfed the blades in flames. The blades glowed white hot, and flames danced across the surface, although the fighters didn’t seem affected.

What—

“Ha!” Uglik shouted. “The gods are with us!”

And for a moment, Kel felt a surge of hope.

But it was short-lived.

Uglik might have felt that the gods were with them, but the smoke creatures didn’t seem to care. If anything, they pounded harder against the shield, as the dyheli strained and heaved and got the first barge moving with the help of pushing humans.

It might have been “floating,” but as had been explained in very great detail to everyone, that didn’t make it weightless. All that weight was still there; it was just an arm’s length off the ground and no longer subject to “drag” on the earth. In fact, these barges moved in the air exactly as they would have in the water, just with less inertia.

Kel closed his eyes, throttled down his fear, and poured more energy into Firesong, who had turned his attention to reinforcing the shields. It did occur to him to face the damned things directly while he was pumping his wings, to see if he could blow them away with the wind he was creating, but while the wind from his wingbeats plastered the thorn bushes against their posts, it didn’t seem to touch the smoke creatures.

So they aren’t really smoke. One more tactic that doesn’t work. So he remained beside Firesong and trusted to the others to do their jobs and get themselves out of harm’s way.

His feathers were soaked down to the skin. No flying away now, not while he was too sodden to get in the air. At least I’m not in danger of catching on fire. For once.

He took a quick look behind himself. The first barge was almost clear of the Gate, and Silverfox urged the dyheli and humans on guide-ropes to get the second one moving. The hertasi were of negligible weight, and they dashed around securing loose items and preventing losses atop the barges, rather than risk themselves on the ground. Firesong panted with the effort of holding the shield, hands thrust out in front of himself as if he was pushing something away.

The creatures were taking their toll on the shield, too. Now every time one of them hit the shield, there was a little explosion of what looked like cracks radiating out from the point of impact. The cracks vanished almost immediately, but Kel knew they were a sign the shield was weakening.

Snowfire left the barges and joined Firesong, adding his strength to the Adept’s. Power coursed through Kelvren, not unlike it had when Treyvan had broken what he now knew had been a small, temporary Heartstone under him, restarting his indusvenarum. Then, he had transmuted power into light. Now he simply poured it into Firesong and hoped the Adept could take it.

Now the creatures started making a sound—a sort of high-pitched keening that sounded painfully like fingernails on a slate tile and made him clench his beak and flatten his ear-tufts and wish he had some wads of wax for his ears to shut the sound out. But of course, no one had anticipated the tervardi would have to sing—and the earplugs were all in the barges.

He glanced over his shoulder again. The second barge was halfway through, and the third had started moving. Silverfox had his shoulder up against the keel and was pushing along with Redlance and Icestorm. The other Hawkbrothers pushed the second barge into the Gate with every iota of their strength. Rina and Tutack looked where Kel was looking, glanced at their brother, and seemed to make up their minds about something. Rina handed Uglik her sword, so he now brandished two fiery weapons, Tutack sheathed his sword, and the two of them turned and ran to the last barge to add their strength to that of the Hawkbrothers.

Kel narrowed his focus to the power, his Heartstone, and how much energy he could get into Firesong without burning the mage up. He managed to compartmentalize everything but that—even though his terror screamed and whirled inside that mental compartment. His vision grayed around the edges, and every muscle and nerve seemed afire.

Uglik grinned and flourished the weapons, and opened his mouth—then clearly thought better of it and just glared at the creatures, as if his gaze alone could tear them to pieces.

Kel glanced back over his shoulder. The second barge was through, and now as many people as could fit had their hands on the last, heaviest barge, and were straining to move it.

And then came the moment that Kel had been dreading and praying would not happen. But not all the prayers in the world could overcome the limits of poor, mortal flesh and bones.

Firesong made an odd little noise, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed.

Instantly, Kel transferred the energy he was building to Snowfire, before it could feed back on Firesong and hurt him. At the same time, Jak reared and pivoted on his hind legs and leapt toward Firesong, while Serenshey not only redoubled his flames, but . . . changed. Grew. Not quite horse-sized, but certainly the size of a mastiff. As Jak flung himself to his knees beside Firesong, Rina left the barge long enough to pull a limp Firesong over Jak’s back, before running back to her place at the barge. Then the Companion lurched to his feet again and leapt through the Gate with Firesong’s limp body.

The third barge was moving. But was it fast enough?

Fear tore through Kel, escaping his careful control, shaking him to his bones. Sweat and rain poured down Snowfire’s face as he struggled to do what an Adept many times more powerful than he was had handled with difficulty. Kel considered for an instant that perhaps he should try to strengthen Firesong’s shields directly himself—

But no. This was specialized magic, and on top of that, Firesong’s personal variation on shield-making. Snowfire worked enough with Firesong to have learned how to handle Firesong’s shields, but Kel certainly had not.

No, wait, I don’t have to—I can just make my shields and layer them behind Firesong’s!

Fanning his wings furiously to keep the power flowing, Kel left a channel open to Snowfire, then divided his attention—half on keeping the energy going, and the rest on doing what every mature mage he had ever known did as easily as breathing, because they had been practicing throwing up a shield from the time they began taking lessons. Shielding was always your first great Work, because shields not only kept you safe, they kept the world safe from you.

So Kel spun up his shields out of a single, tiny center of calm that never left him. Even though he was shaken to his core with fear, his core was unbreakable—it was the essence of what he thought of as himself, his identity and meaning. Kelvren was as terrified of losing control as he was of those monsters. Because there was no other option. Fail or—

He powered up his shield fully and expanded it until it just touched Firesong’s. He poured energy into it. And just in time, as he felt Firesong’s shield buckle, bulge inward, and then, miraculously, hold as his own shield came up to reinforce it.

“What’s happening?” he gasped, tearing the ground with his talons, as if he was physically trying to hold the shield in place and push the shield with his forehead.

“The third barge is halfway through,” said Snowfire through gritted teeth. “Kel, I can’t hold this for much longer.”