Page 78 of Gryphon in Light

Kel tried to give him more power, but power wasn’t the problem. Snowfire was exhausted—as tough as they all were, rain and cold sapped their durability, and his dear friend was very nearly about to pass out just as Firesong had.

Kelvren redoubled his efforts. “Go!” he urged. “Now! If my trondi’irn loses her mate, I might as well set myself on fire and have done with it.”

Snowfire did not need to be told twice. “Good luck, Kel. See you soon.” Kel heard him stumbling away.

“Kel! Uglik! Serenshey!” Hallock snapped, his voice making it an order. “Fighting retreat, back up! Closer to the Gate!”

For that, Kelvren had to open his eyes, but at least now he wasn’t juggling keeping up his own shield with feeding another mage. Now he could concentrate every bit of power he had on holding his shield up against that relentless pounding. Still fanning his wings, sending sprays of water from the soaked feathers, he backed up one slow pace at a time, matching the rate at which Uglik and Serenshey were retreating. Serenshey uttered a snarl that sounded like the sky was tearing, but the smoke creatures didn’t seem to notice. Uglik roared a wordless challenge, but they didn’t seem to notice that, either.

Another glance backward showed the barge was three-quarters of the way through the Gate. But there was barely enough room for the barge, and none for the humans pushing it. There was going to be a crush in the Gate once the barge was through—

Kel paused until Serenshey was on his right and Uglik on his left. They matched each other, step by step, as Kel physically shuddered from the blows on the shield. It felt as if each of those hits was pummeling his heart.

Short of breath now, and lightheaded, he felt the shield start to give, as Hallock shouted just behind him. “Now! Everyone! It’s through! Go, go, go!”

The barge was through!

Firesong’s shield shattered. Kel’s shield absorbed as much of the blow as it could, but it, too, split and peeled away like the skin of an overripe plum.

Kelvren staggered backward and almost fell. The smoke creatures surged across the clearing and stopped just short of Uglik, as if they weren’t quite sure what to do now that they had breeched the barrier that had enraged them.

“Cat! Kel! Go!” Uglik bellowed, and laughed. “I hold! GO!”

Kel might have stayed anyway, but hands pulling at his wings could not be resisted, and he found himself stumbling across the Gate, backward, and finally falling under the rear of the last barge. From that vantage he watched as Serenshey whirled and leapt, soaring in a graceful arc over him and onto the barge.

Uglik turned to follow them.

And Kel saw the smoke creatures gather themselves like a giant wave to rear up over Uglik’s head and crash down over him, silently obliterating him from view.

“Uglik!” Rina screamed.

The smoke creatures pulled their “heads” up again, boiling out by the dozen from the unmoving Uglik’s nostrils and mouth. They reared up and began moving, slowly and deliberately, toward the Gate.

Kel lurched to his feet, fanned his wings furiously, and unleashed all the raw energy in his Heartstone straight into the Gate without any finesse at all, breaking its edges into warped eddies and overloading it.

With a crack like thunder, the Gate went down, cutting off one pointed tendril of “smoke,” which hung in the air for a moment, then dissipated.

And Kel collapsed in the mud, Rina’s howls of bereavement ringing in his ears.

Silverfox finally had a chance to sit down and breathe about a candlemark or two after Kelvren so dramatically put an end to the Gate, although the tasks before him were many, and all of them vital. Still. He knew that if he didn’t take a moment now for himself, he would have nothing for others.

I feel like the man who fell into a privy and found exactly the tool he was looking for before he fell in, he thought, collapsing down onto the ground out of sight behind his barge, and dropping his weary head in his hands. The good—the “tool” he had needed before they all “fell into the privy”—was that the Gate anchor that Torandi and Kel had placed at their escape point was on an island in the middle of a swiftly flowing river, a salient little fact that neither of them had had mentioned. And yes, this meant they’d either have to build another pair of Gates to get off this island, or somehow cross a raging, swollen river with branches, bits of reedy bank, and entire trees careering by in it—but that was for tomorrow. Or the next day. Or a week from today. If the gods need our help that quickly, they can send us a ferry boat. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and steadied himself, taking a moment of comfort in the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

But this was important. Vitally important. The smoke creatures were leagues away now, so the only likely threats were purely physical beings. Nothing material is going to get to us across that river. We’re relatively safe. Maybe completely safe. No one was going to count on that, of course, but it took some of the urgency out of the defensive preparations he’d set everyone to making as soon as they recovered from the Gate coming down.

And yes, he could have given everyone time to get over their shock and grief at losing a comrade. Could have, but didn’t, because at the time no one had known they were on an island, and they had to be prepared for another attack.

Sometimes I am a heartless monster. Sometimes, that was what the job needed. Being a kestra’chern wasn’t all comforting and counseling, pampering and inventive sex. Sometimes you have to manipulate people in shock into doing things they don’t think they can, because there’s no other choice.

He took stock of what he and Hallock had done since the Gate went down so spectacularly. Firesong was in bed, in their barge. Genni and Nightwind assurred him that the Adept would recover; he was just exhausted and rather “bruised” internally from overexertion. For once, Firesong wasn’t his primary concern; this wasn’t Firesong’s first time taking the brunt of an attack. He’ll recover. He won’t bounce back immediately, but he’ll recover.

Kel, likewise, was resting. He had been set up in an improvised nest under the redeployed canvas wings of the first barge, and his heap of reeds and rugs had been thoroughly dried and warmed magically by Torandi and Daria before he fell into it. He was in the same shape as Firesong, physically. Mentally, well, he was in better shape than Firesong. A gryphon’s pragmatism led him immediately to the mental state where he could mourn the loss of Uglik without blaming himself for it. He would rightfully put the blame where it belonged, on creatures that had attacked them for no obvious reason.

Firesong, well, he’d take all the blame on himself, without saying a damned thing, and put on that half-amusing and half-arrogant attitude that covered virtually every iota of his real emotions. Silverfox would have to coax him through the whole process of coming to grips with the situation and realizing he was not personally at fault.

And that would be my job even if I hated him, rather than loving him. But because he loved Firesong, seeing him in emotional pain was hard to bear.

But I am a kestra’chern and this is what I do.