He didn't leave you then, he wouldn 't leave you. From somewhere came another burst of strength, and with a cry that was half a scream of defiance and half a moan of agony, he drove himself at the bank. He made it by mere talon-lengths, dropping down on it with all the grace of a shot duck, and landing half on the bank, half in the water. With a groan, he grabbed the rope in his beak and dragged himself and Drake, talon over talon, onto the bank and safety. He wanted to just lie there, panting, but there were still four more people on the other side. Somehow he pulled himself up to a standing position on shaking legs, just as Drake got to his hands and knees, and both of them turned toward the far bank at the same time. All they saw was torn foliage, the slashed end of the rope hanging off the tree Drake had tied it to, splashes of red that weren't likely flowers-and the empty shore. They watched, panting and slumping down against each other until the fog closed in, leaving them staring at blank whiteness. They were alone. It could not be much longer before whatever it was that had attacked them found a way to cross, unless it took a long time-to eat. For a moment, he felt stricken, numb, frozen with shock. But he had been in too many fights, and lost too many comrades, for this to paralyze him now. Mourn later, find safety now! Drake looked at him from beneath a mat of hair that had become a tangled, dripping mess, his clothing half torn from his body by the fight of last night, and a strange look of hope in his eyes. For one stark moment, Skan was afraid that he'd gone mad. "Blade-" he began hoarsely, then coughed, huge racking coughs that brought up half a lungful of river water. Skan balled his talons into fists and pounded his back until he stopped coughing and waved Skan off. "Blade-" he began again, his voice a ruin. He looked up and pointed north along the riverbank. "She's that way. I can feel her. I swear it, Skan!" With one accord, they dragged themselves to their feet and stumbled northward over the slippery rocks and wet clay of the bank below the cliff face. North-where their children must be. Tad inspected the last of the traps with no real hope that he would find anything at this one that differed from all the rest. The first wyrsa they had killed had been the last; none of the traps worked a second time. In fact, the wyrsa seemed to take a fiendish delight in triggering the damned things and leaving them empty. So far, they had not dared the last one, another rockfall that he or Blade could trigger from inside the cave. He suspected, though, that it was only a matter of time before they did. On the other hand, they would not be able to disarm it without triggering it, so perhaps they were all even. As he had expected, this snare lay empty, too. He decided that the rope could be better used elsewhere, and salvaged it. It certainly would have been nice if this one had worked, though. His nerves were wearing thin, and he was afraid that the wyrsa might be able to drain mage-energy from him constantly now, since they were so close. He didn't dare try shielding against them; shields were magical too, and they could surely be eaten like anything else magical. When they had first found the cave, he had thought that the noise of the river and the waterfall would cover the sounds anything approaching made, but over the past few days he had discovered to his surprise that he had been wrong. To a limited extent, he had actually gotten used to the steady roaring, and was able to pick out other noises beyond it. But the very last sound he had been expecting was the noise of someone - a two-legged someone - scrambling over the rocks at a speed designed to break his neck. And panting. Especially not coming toward him. Those were not wyrsa sounds, either, not unless the wyrsa had acquired a pair of hunting-boots and put them on! He had barely time to register and recognize the sounds before the makers of the noise burst through the fog right in his face. He hadn't heard the second one, because he had been flying, and his wingbeats had not carried over the sound of the falls. Tadrith looked up to find his vision filled with the fierce, glorious silhouette of the Black Gryphon. "Father!" he, exclaimed, in mingled relief and shock. "Amberdrake - " "No time!" Skandranon panted, as Amberdrake scrabbled right past him without pausing. "Run! We're being chased!" No need to ask what was chasing them. Skan landed heavily, then turned to stand at bay to guard Amberdrake's retreat. Tad leaped up beside him, despite his handicap. Witjh two gryphons guarding the narrow trail, there wasn't a chance in the world that the wyrsa would get past! But they certainly tried. The fog was as thick as curdled milk, and the wyrsa nothing more than shadows and slashing claws and fangs reaching for them through the curtain. But they couldn't get more than two of their number up to face Skan and Tad at any one time, and without the whole pack able to attack together, their tactics were limited. They were fast, but Tad and Skan were retreating, step by careful step, and that generally got them out of range before a talon or a bite connected. Step by step. And watch it. Slip, and you end up under those claws. Thank Urtho for giving us four legs. They retreated all the way to the shelf of rock in front of the cave, and that was where their own reinforcements stepped in. "Duck!" came the familiar order, and this time when he and his father dropped to the ground, not only did rocks hurl over their heads, but a pair of daggers hummed past Tad's ear like angry wasps. They both connected, too, and one was fatal. The wyrsa nearest the water got it in the throat, made a gurgle, and fell over, to be swept away by the rushing torrent. The second was lucky; he was only hit in the shoulder, but gave that familiar hiss-yelp, and vanished into the fog. Skan and Tad took advantage of the respite to turn their backs in turn and scramble into the cave itself. There they turned again, prepared for another onslaught, but the wyrsa had evidently had enough for one day. Tad sat down right where he was, breathing heavily, heart pounding; his father was less graceful and more tired than that, and dropped down into the sand as if he'd been shot himself, panting with his beak wide open. "I always knew those throwing-knives were going to come in handy some day," Amberdrake observed. He looked nothing like the Amberdrake that Tad had known all his life. His long hair was a draggling, tangled, water-soaked mess; his clothing stained, torn, muddy, and also sodden. He wore a pack that was just as much of a mess, at least externally. At his waist was a belt holding one long knife, a pouch, and an odd sheath that held many smaller, flat knives, exactly of the kind that had just whizzed over Tad's head. "Yes, but-you had to-learn how-to throw them-first," Skan replied, panting. "You and your- bargains!" "They were a bargain!" Amberdrake said indignantly. "A dozen of them for the price of that one single fighting-knife that you wanted me to get!" "But you-knew how to-use the-fighting-knife!" Blade brought her father and Skan a skin of water each, and they drank thirstily. She looked from one to the other of them, and carefully assessed their condition. "I don't think I'm going to ask where the rest of your group is," she said quietly. "I'm pretty certain I already know." A tiny oil lamp cast warm light down on Amberdrake and his patient. Blade sat at her father's feet while he examined her shoulder, as Skan and Tad kept watch at the mouth of the cave. "You did a fine job on Tadrith's wing," Amberdrake murmured. "I only wish he had done as good a job on your shoulderblade." Well, that certainly explained why it wouldn't stop hurting. "You're not going to have to rebreak it, are you?" she asked, trying not to wince. He patted her unhurt shoulder comfortingly, and it was amazing just how good that simple gesture felt. "Not hardly, since it was never set in the first place. Immobilized, yes, but not set. I'm astonished that you've managed as much as you have." He placed the tips of his fingers delicately over the offending bone. "It's possible that it was only cracked at first, and not broken, and that somewhere along the line you simply completed the break. Hold very still for a moment, and this will hurt." She tried not to brace herself, since that would only make things worse. She felt his fingers tighten, sensed a snap, and literally saw stars for a moment, it hurt so much. When she could see again, she was still sitting upright, and he still had his hands on her shoulders, so she must have managed not to move. She sagged gratefully against the rock he was sitting on, and wiped tears from her eyes, weakly. "Now, stay still a moment more," he urged. "I haven't done this for a long time, and I'm rather out of practice." She obeyed, and a moment later, felt the area above the break warming. The pain there vanished, all but a faint throbbing in time with her pulse. I'd forgotten he still has some Healing ability not enough that he ever acts as a Healer anymore, but enough that he could in the war. In fact, he was first sent by his family off to train as a Healer, but his Empathic senses got in the way. In the war he was supposed to have been very good, even on gryphons. Amberdrake finally lifted his hands from her shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry, dearheart, I can't do as much as I'd like." It was far more than she'd had any hope of before they arrived! "You did a great deal, Father, believe me. I hope you saved plenty of yourself for Tad," she said. "Especially since you did specialize in gryphon-trauma during the war!" "I did," he replied as she twisted around to look up at him. He combed his hair out of his eyes with one hand, and grimaced. "I'll keep working on you two as I recuperate, too. But I never was as competent at Healing as I'd like, and accelerating bone growth-well, it's hard, and I never did learn to do it well. Maybe if I'd gotten the right training when I was younger" "Then you'd have been a Healer, Lady Cinnabar would have been your lady and apprentice instead of Tamsin's, and I wouldn't be here," she interrupted. "I love you just the way you are, Father. I wouldn't change a thing." And suddenly she realized that she meant exactly that, probably for the first time since she had been a small child. She knew that he had needed to extend his empathic sense in order to Heal, and he still hadn't barricaded himself; he felt that, and his eyes filled with tears. He wanted to hear that from me as much as I wanted his approval! she thought with astonishment. How could I have been so blind all this time? Thinking only the child could want approval from the parent-how stupid of me-the parent wants approval from the child just as much. "Blade-" he said. She didn't let him finish. She reached up for him as he reached down for her, and they held each other while his tears fell on her cheeks and mingled with hers. It was he who pulled away first, not she; rubbing his nose inelegantly on the back of his hand as he sniffed, and managing a weak smile for her. "Well, aren't we a pair of sentimental idiots," he began. "No, you're a pair of sensible idiots, if that isn't contradictory," Skandranon interrupted. "You two were overdue for that, if you ask me. And, if you don't ask me, I'll tell you anyway, and I am right, as usual. Drake, what can she do now, if anything?" "I've strengthened and knitted the bone a bit," Amberdrake replied, looking at her although he answered Skan. "And I've done something about the pain. I wouldn't engage in hand-to-hand, but you can certainly throw a spear, use a sling, or do some very limited swordplay. No shields, sorry; it won't take that kind of strain." "We don't have any shields with us, so that hardly matters," she replied dryly. "Nor bows, either; we had to concentrate on bringing things we could use." "Well I know how to make a throwing-stick and the spears to go with it, if you know how to use one," Amberdrake admitted. "That should increase your range. There ought to be some wood in here straight enough for spears." He knows how to make a weapon? She throttled down her surprise, and just nodded. "Yes to both-now let me go replace Tad at the front and you can work your will on him." She almost said magic, but stopped herself just in time. Since the wyrsa hadn't come calling when her father began his Healing, evidently they did not eat Healing-energy. Which was just as well, under the circumstances. Perhaps it was too localized, or too finely-tuned to be sucked in from afar. She stood up, hefted a spear in both hands, marveling at her new freedom from pain, and smiled with grim pleasure at the feel of a good weapon. Tad retreated to the back of the cave, and she took her place beside his father. "So, what exactly are those nightmares?" Skan asked. "Have you any idea?" She stared out into the rain - the rain had begun early, which meant that the fog had lifted early. That was to their advantage; with four enemies in the cave, she didn't think that the wyrsa would venture an attack in broad daylight. "Tad thinks they're some kind of wyrsa, maybe changed by the mage-storms," she told him. "They're about the size of a horse, and they're black, and I suppose you already know that they eat magic." "Only too well," Skan groaned. "Well, to counter that advantage, they seem to have lost their poison fangs and claws," she said. "I don't think they're going to try entrancing us again after the first time, but if they start weaving in and around each other, they can hypnotize you if you aren't careful." "The wyrsa I used to hunt were better at it than that," Skan observed, watching the bushes across the river tremble. "So they've lost a couple of attributes and gained one. Could be worse. One touch of those claws, and you were in poor shape, and that was with the hound-sized ones. A horse-sized one would probably kill you just by scratching you lightly." "I suppose that counts as good news, then." She sighed. "I think this is a pack of youngsters led by one older female, probably their mother. We don't know how many there are; two less than when they started, though. I don't know if you saw it, but Father got one; Tad got one a couple of days ago, with a rockfall. The problem is, no trap works twice on them." "Wyrsa, the size of a horse," Skan muttered, and shook his head. "Terrible. I'd rather have makaar. I wonder what other pleasant surprises the mage-storms left out here for us to find?" She shrugged. "Right now, this is the only one that matters. It's pretty obvious that the things breed, and breed true, so if we don't get rid of them, one of these days they'll come looking for more magic-meals closer to our home." She turned her gaze on Skandranon for a moment. "And what did happen to your party, other than what I can guess?" Skandranon told her, as tersely as she could have wished. She hadn't known any of the Silvers well, except Bern, who had been her tracking teacher, but it struck her that they had all acted with enormous stupidity and arrogance. Was it only because when they didn't meet with any immediate trouble that they assumed there wasn't anything to worry about? "Between you and me, my dear," Skandranon said in an undertone, "I'm afraid the late Regin was an idiot. I suspect that he assumed that since you were a green graduate, probably hurt, and female to boot, you got into difficulties with what to him would have been minor opponents. He was wary at first, but when no armies and no renegade mages appeared, he started acting as if this was a training exercise." She tried not to think too uncharitably of the dead Silver. "Well, we don't have much experience, and it would be reasonable to think that we might have panicked and overreacted," she said judiciously. "Still. I'd have thumped that Filix over the head and tied him up once I found the wreck and knew there was something that ate magic about. Why attract attention to yourself?" "Good question," Skan replied. "I wish now I'd done just that." His mournful expression filled in the rest; she could read his thoughts in his eyes. Or was that her empathic sense operating? If I had, they might still be alive. I should have pulled rank on them. She turned her attention back to the outside, for she felt distinctly uneasy having the Black Gryphon confess weakness, even tacitly, to her. And yet, she felt oddly proud. He would not have let her see that, if he were not treating her as an adult and an equal. "Well, what it all comes down to is this," she said grimly. "No one is going to get us out of this except ourselves. We have no way to warn anyone, and what happened to you is entirely likely to happen to them, unless they're smarter than Regin was." "Oh, that goes without saying-the closest team to us is led by Ikala," Skan said-rather slyly, she thought. And she clutched her hands on the shaft of the spear as her heart raced a little. Ikala-if I was going to be rescued by anyone She shook her head; this was not some fanciful Haighlei romance tale. "They're still in danger, and we can't warn them," she repeated. "Remember, these damned things get smarter every time we do something! I think they may even get smarter every time they eat more magic. I doubt that they're native, so Ikala won't know about them. The best chance we all have to survive is if we four can eliminate these creatures before anyone else runs afoul of them. If they do get nastier every time they eat something, everyone out there could become victims. For all we know-if they share intelligence as Aubri said-they may share their power among each other as they die off. The fewer there are, the more powerful the individuals might become." She was afraid that Skan might think she was an idiot for even thinking the four of them could take on the wyrsa pack, as ill-equipped as they were, but he nodded. "Are you listening to this, Drake?" he called back into the cave. "To every word, and I agree," came the reply. "It's insane, of course, to think that we can do that, but we're used to handling insanely risky business, aren't we, old bird?" "We are!" Skan had actually mustered up a grin. But Amberdrake wasn't finished yet. "And what's more, I'm afraid that trait runs in both families. Right, Tad?" A gusty sigh answered his question. "I'm afraid so," the young gryphon replied with resignation. "Like father, like son." Skan winked at her. "The basic point is, we have four excellent minds and four bodies to work on this. Well, between your broken bones and our aching ones, we probably have the equivalent of two healthy bodies, rather than four, but that's not so bad! It could be worse!" Blade thought about just a few of the many, many ways in which it could be worse, and nodded agreement. Of course, there are many, many ways in which it could be better, too "So, while those two are back there involved in patching and mending, let me get my sneaky old mind together with your resilient young one, and let's see if we can't produce some more, cleverer tactics." He gryph-grinned at her, and to her surprise, she found herself grinning back. "That's it, sir," Tad said, from back in the cave. "That's all the weapons we have." "Blade?" There was surprise in her father's voice. "I thought you said that you didn't have a bow." "I did!" She left Skan for a moment and trotted back to the fire, to stare at the short bow and quiver of arrows in surprise. "Where did that come from?" "I brought it in my pack," Tad said sheepishly. "I know you said not to bring one because you couldn't use it, but-I don't know, I thought maybe you might be able to pull it with your feet or something, and if nothing else, you could start a fire with it." "Well, she still can't use it, but I can," Amberdrake said, appropriating it. He looked up at Skan and his son. "You two get out there and start setting those traps before the sun goes down; we'll get ready for the siege." There would be a siege; Blade only hoped that the traps that the other two were about to set would whittle down the numbers so that the inevitable siege would be survivable. If the mother wyrsa had been angry over the loss of a single young, what would she be like when she lost several? Tad and Skan were going out to set some very special single traps-and do it now, while the wyrsa were at a distance. They knew that the wyrsa had withdrawn-probably to hunt-because Blade and her father had used their empathic abilities to locate the creatures. It had been gut-wrenching to do so, but it had at least worked. They hoped that the wyrsa would be out of sensing range of small magics, because that was what they intended to use. The bait and the trigger both would be a tiny bit of magic holding the whole thing together. That was why it needed Skan and Tad to do the work; they were physically stronger than Blade and her father. When the wyrsa "ate" the magic holding everything in place- Deadfalls would crush them, sharpened wooden stakes would plunge through them, nooses would snap around their legs and the rocks poised at the edge of the torrent would tumble in, pulling them under the water. And for the really charming trap, another huge rockfall would obliterate the path and anything that was on it. They would have to be very, very clever; the magic had to be so small that the wyrsa would have to be on top of it to sense it. Otherwise it would "eat" the magic from a distance, triggering the trap without its killing anything. Meanwhile, Blade and her father gathered together every weapon in their limited arsenal for a last stand. It has to be now, she kept telling herself. The wyrsa are nibbling away at Tad and they'll do the same to Skan. The more they eat, the stronger they get. We have to goad them into attacking before they're ready, and keep them so angry that they rely on their instincts and hunting skills instead of thinking things over. If we wait, there's a chance the next party will bumble right into them That would be Ikala and Keenath - and the idea that either of those two could be in danger made a fierce rage rise inside her, along with determination to see that nothing of the kind happened. Spears; the long ones, and the short, crude throwing-spears that Amberdrake was making, with points of sharpened, fire-hardened wood. Those were hers, those, and her fighting-knife, which was just a trifle shorter than a small sword. Amberdrake would take the bow, his own fighting-knife, and his throwing-knives. She still had her sling, and that could be useful at the right time. There wasn't much, but it was all useful enough. When she had divided it into two piles, hers and her father's, she sat down beside him at the fire to help him with the spears. He made the points, she fire-hardened them, until the pile of straight wooden stakes was all used up. Then she took a single brand from the fire, and he put it out. She went all the way to the back of the cave and started a huge new fire there, one of the objects being to make the wyrsa believe that they were farther back there than they actually were. She piled about half of their wood, the wettest lot, around it. This wood was going to have to dry out before it caught - and she thought she had that timed about right. It's too bad this cave is stable, she thought wistfully. It would be nice to arrange to get them inside, then drop the ceiling on them. Well, in a way, they were going to do that anyway. She helped her father drag all of the rest of the driftwood that they had collected to the front of the cave and arrange it along the barricade. There was quite a lot of it, more than she remembered. Tad had certainly been busy! And this had better work, because we are using up all of our resources in one attempt. What was it that Judeth always told us? "Never throw your weapon at the enemy?" I hope we aren't doing that now. But being cautious certainly hadn't gotten them anywhere. Strange how it was the younger pair that was so cautious, and the older willing to bet everything on one blow. Periodically, she or her father would stop, close their eyes, and open themselves to the wyrsa to check on their whereabouts. It was Amberdrake' s turn to check when he cut his "search" short, and put his fingers to his mouth to utter the ear-piercing whistle they had agreed would be the "call in" signal. Skan came flying back low over the river, with Tad running on the trail a little behind him. At that point, the gloom of daylight had begun to thicken to the darkness of night, and they were all ready to take their positions. Blade sent up a petition to the Star-Eyed One that this would all work The Star-Eyed only helps those who help themselves, and those who have planned well don't need the Star-Eyed's help. Always remember that, Blade. If you haven't done your best, you have no reason to hope for the Star-Eyed's help if it still goes bad. She crouched down behind a screen of rock and dead brush, away from their safe haven of nights past and waited, her spear-thrower in one hand, three spears in the other. She hadn't had time to practice, and she only hoped that she could hit somewhere in her targets, instead of off to one side of them. From where she crouched, she wouldn't have to make a fatal hit, just a solid one, and they would probably go into the river. There was nowhere for them to hide, even in the darkness, because it wasn't going to be dark, not completely. Skan had made a quick sortie across the river before they went off to set traps and had returned with rotten wood riddled with foxfire. Any time she saw one of the chunks of foxfire vanish, she was supposed to throw. They had planned as well as they could. Now it was just a matter of waiting And I never was very good at waiting! She kept quiet, tried not to fidget, and listened for sounds up the trail. Skan had an advantage over all of the others; he knew where each trap was, because he felt the mage-energy. And he would know as they were triggered, because he would sense that, too. Under any other circumstances, the tiny bits of energy he and Tad had invested in the triggers would have vanished in the overall flows of energies, but with nothing around to mask them, they "glowed" to him like tiny fires in the distance. And he tensed, as he felt the first of them "go out." That was the strangling-noose He wished he had Drake's empathic ability as well. It would be nice to know if their trap had gotten anything. They had been careful to set things that worked differently-though hopefully the pups would venture over here slowly, and would be so greedy to get at the bits of magic that none of them would realize that the magic-bits and the traps had anything to do with each other. The next one is the set of javelins, and if there's a group, it should take out several. And they'll be cautious after they spring that one. The javelins, hidden under brush, were far enough away from the trigger that he was fairly certain that the pups would make no connection between the two. And there it goes! In his mind's eye, another little glowing "fire" went out. Two down, two to go. One trap working from above, one from in front. One takes out a single pup, one takes out several. No pattern there, and nothing in the way of a physical trigger to spot. The next trap would take out a single pup again; and it worked from the ground. That would be the foot-noose. He felt his chest muscles tighten all over as he "watched" that little spark of energy, and waited for the pups to regain their courage. He knew that at least he and Tad were safe from detection tonight; they'd used up all but a fraction of their personal energies making the traps. There was nothing to distract the pups from the bait. Time crawled by with legs of lead, and he began to wonder if he and Tad had done their work a little too well. Had he discouraged the pups? Or would the loss of several more goad them into enough rage to make them continue? Only Blade and Amberdrake knew the answer to that question, and only if they had opened themselves up empathically again. Just when he was about to give up-when, in fact, he had started to stand, taking himself out of hiding- the third "spark" died. He crouched back down again, quickly. They all heard-or rather, felt-the fourth trap go. It was the one that had originally been set with a crude string-trigger that went into the cave. When it went, it would not only take several wyrsa with it-hopefully-but it would have the unfortunate side-effect of spreading rock out into the river, widening the shelf in front of the cave. But that couldn't be helped The rocks under him shook as the wyrsa triggered the last trap-and he didn't need to be empathic to know that this final trap totally enraged them. Unlike the cries that they had uttered until now, their ear-piercing shrieks of pure rage as the remaining members of the pack poured over the rocks were clearly audible over the pounding water. More than four- But it was too late to do anything other than follow through on their plan. With a scream of his own, he dove off the cliff, right down on the last one's back. The head whipped around and the fangs sank into his shoulder, just below where the wing joined his body. He muffled his own screech of pain by sinking his own beak into the join of the creature's head and neck. The thing wouldn't let go, but neither would he. It tried to dislodge him, but he had all four sets of talons bound firmly into its shoulders and hindquarters. In desperation, it writhed and rolled, and sank its fangs in up to the gumline. He saw red in his vision again, but clamped his beak down harder, sawing at the thing's flesh as he did so. He jerked his head toward his own keel, digging the hook of his powerful beak even further through hide, then muscle, then cartilage. The spine he had to sever the spine Amberdrake stood up on his tiny shelf of rock and fired off arrow after arrow into the one wyrsa that had been unfortunate enough to cross his blob of foxfire. The arrows themselves had been rubbed with phosphorescent fungus, so once the first one lodged, he had a real target. He'd throttled down any number of emotions as the wyrsa came closer and closer, but-strangely enough, now that he was fighting, he felt a curious, detached calm. His concentration narrowed to the dark shape with an increasing number of glowing sticks in it; his world constricted to placing his next arrow somewhere near the rest of those spots of dim light. Sooner or later, he would hit something fatal. He knew that he had, when the shape bearing the sticks wobbled to the edge of the water, wavered there for a moment, then tumbled in. He chose another as it crossed a blob of foxfire, and began again. Tad was close enough to his father that he saw the difficulties Skan was in. At that point, it didn't matter that it was not in the plan-he surged out of hiding and pounced, sinking his beak into the wyrsa's throat, and his foreclaws into its forelimbs. A gush of something hot and foul-tasting flooded his mouth, and the wyrsa collapsed under Skan's weight. He let go, spitting to rid himself of the taste of the wyrsa's blood, as Skan shook himself free of the creature's head and staggered off to one side. Tad guarded him as he collected himself, keeping the other wyrsa at bay with slashing talons. Then he wasn't alone anymore; his father was fighting beside him. "Good job," Skan called. "I owe you one." "Then take the one on the left!" Tad called back, feeling a surge of pleasure that brought new energy with it. "Only if you take the one on the right!" Skan called back, and launched himself at his next target. Tad followed in the same instant, as if they had rehearsed the maneuver a thousand times together. Blade's weapon was not as suited to rapid firing as her father's, and she had to choose her targets more carefully than he. He had a great many arrows; she had a handful of spears, and not all of them flew cleanly. But when she did connect, her weapon was highly effective. She sent three wyrsa tumbling into the river, and wounded two more, making them easier targets for Skan and Tad. Just as she ran out of short spears, she saw-and sensed-the moment that they had all been waiting for. The bitch-wvrsa was herding her remaining pups before her into the cave the two humans and two gryphons had abandoned. She obviously intended to reverse the situation on her attackers, by going to ground in what should have been their bolt-hole. "She's going in!" Blade shouted. She seized the longer of her two spears and jumped down to the ground. A moment later, her father joined her, and with Tad and Skan they formed a half-circle that cut off the wyrsa from escape. The pups had clearly had enough; now that they were all in the cave, they were silhouetted clearly against the fire at the rear. The pups, about three of them, milled about their mother. They didn't like the fire, but they didn't want to face the humans and gryphons either. The wyrsa-bitch, however, was not ready to quit yet. She surged from side to side in the cave, never presenting a clear target, and snarled at her pups. It looked to Blade as if she were trying to herd them into something. She and Amberdrake edged up farther into the cave, following the plan. In theory, with the two weakest members of the party in plain sight, the bitch should do what they wanted her to. "She's trying to goad them into a charge!" Amberdrake shouted. "Get ready!" Blade grounded the butt of her spear against the rock, hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to use it- "Now!" Drake shouted, as the bitch herded her pups up onto the brush and rock barrier. And at that signal, Skan and Tad used the last of their mage-energy, and ignited the oil-soaked wood of the barricade with a simple, small fire-spell. With the fire already going at the back of the cave, there was a good draft going up the chimney. The flames swept back, and merged with the second fire at the rear. The cave was an oven, and the wyrsa were trapped inside. The wyrsa-bitch turned and heaved herself at the barricade nearest Blade. Her dead-white eyes blazed rage as she stared at the human, and Blade felt her hatred burning, even without being open empathically. Amberdrake dropped his spear; it clattered to the ground as he seized his head in both hands. His knees buckled and he fell in a convulsing heap. Without hesitation, Blade picked up her own spear, aimed, and threw. The bitch-wyrsa took it full in the chest and continued forward, screaming defiance. She heaved up into the air, towering above all of them for a moment-and Blade was certain she was going to come over the barricade anyway. Blade's heart pounded in her ears-only that sound, and the sound of the wyrsa 's scream, louder than anything she had felt before. The wyrsa fell forward, but didn't leap. The spear jutted from her chest, only a quarter of its length in. She stumbled forward in shock. Her forelegs crumpled-and the butt of the crude spear struck the ground and drove itself in deeper. Blade fell into a crouch without hesitation and groped for her fighting-knife, but she could not take her eyes off the vision of the black wyrsa pitching backwards, to be consumed in flame. "We won," Tad said, for the hundredth time. As the rain washed wyrsa blood from the rocks, he locked his talons into another body and dragged it to the river, to roll it in. Blade hoped that something in there would eat wyrsa, and that the blasted things wouldn't poison the fish. After the flames had died down, they had all moved back into the cave to see what was left. Not much was recognizable compared to the bodies out- side the cave, but the skulls of the charred wyrsa were easily broken off for later cleaning. The families of those people the creatures had killed were entitled to them, perhaps for a revenge ceremony during mourning, so the grisly task was done with solemn efficiency. Inside, the rock was nicely warmed, and the two exhausted fathers had a good, comfortable place to lie down and get some rest. Meanwhile she and Tad dragged their own weary bodies out into the rain again, to clean up the mess. "This is the last one, thank the gods," Blade said, as she hauled the last of the beheaded bodies to the river's edge. Together, she and Tad shoved it in, and together they turned and walked back to the cave. "Drake is burning some fish for you, Blade," Skan greeted them as they climbed over the rock barricade. "Zhaneel would not approve. By the way, both the other rescue-parties are near enough for Mind-speech with me, so we won't have to eat fish much longer." Blade's heart surged with joy-and then her throat tightened, as she realized just how close the others must have been last night. They could have walked right into the same kind of trap that my father did, she thought soberly. She had been wondering ever since yesterday evening if they were doing the right thing by trying an all-or-nothing last-stand. Now she knew they had been. "When will they get here?" Tad asked eagerly, as Blade accepted fish from her father with a smile of thanks. "Tomorrow, probably. Your mother is thrilled, Blade. Tad, your mother and brother would be flying in here now if it weren't raining." Skan gryph-grinned at all of them. "I promised them that we would do our best not to melt before they got here." "That was probably safe," Blade agreed. "Did you tell them anything other than that we were all safe?" Skan ground his beak and dropped his head. "I confess; I told them everything while they were still far enough away that your mothers couldn't flay us alive for risking all our necks last night." He coughed. "I know my Zhaneel, and I suspect Winterhart will react the same. Weary by the time they reach us, they will be so grateful that we are all right that they will probably have forgotten that we took on all those wyrsa by ourselves." Amberdrake winced. "Maybe Zhaneel will-but Winterhart won't," he said guiltily. "And she'll never forgive me for acting like a hotheaded young fighter and standing on a ledge in the dark, firing arrows into the damned things! And if I actually admit that I-well-I was good at it-" Blade patted his knee, and smiled as a rush of love filled her heart. "Don't worry, Father," she said fondly. "I'll protect you." For the first time in days, if not weeks, Tad lay on a ledge in the open, sunning himself. Finally, finally, the rains had lessened last night, and although the fog had appeared on schedule, the rain had not chased it away. It looked as if the weather was getting back to "normal." Tad whooped, and leaped off his ledge to gallop toward his brother. Keeth arrowed in for a landing down on the recently-added stretch of rock-and-gravel beach in front of the cave. A moment later, as Tad and his brother closed on each other for the gryphonic equivalent of a back-slapping reunion, the "mothers' party" appeared around the curve of the trail. Now it was Blade's turn to launch herself off her ledge and run straight into the arms of her mother, while Amberdrake brought up the rear. Tad grinned to his twin as they watched his Silver partner hugging her mother and even shedding a few tears. She was acting just as any normal human would in the same situation, and about time, too! Things settled down a little, and Winterhart paused to wipe a couple of happy tears, as the second party rounded the bend. With a gasp, Blade broke off her conversation with her mother to run straight for the leader of the party. Ikala looked surprised, but extremely pleased, when she threw her arms around him-and it would have taken an expert to determine if she kissed him first, or he kissed her. Tad took a quick look at Amberdrake and Winterhart; they looked stunned, but gradually the surprise was being replaced by-glee? Probably. Now they're finally going to get their wish, after all! "What is that all about?" Keeth gurgled. "She's never done that before!" Tad laughed. "Oh, it has been a complicated mess, but I think I can explain it. Drake sees her as a real person now-not just as his daughter, his child. They've fought alongside each other. Now she's-well, now she knows who she is; that she's not a reflection of Drake or her mother, and that she doesn't have to work so hard at being their opposite. It's-well, she's free, free to be herself." "And you?" Keeth asked shrewdly. Tad laughed. "After seeing Father in action, I can't say I mind being the son of the Black Gryphon anymore. And now he has fought beside me, and he knows there is more to me than obstacle courses and fatherly pride. Word will get around, and then he will have to cope with being referred to as 'the father of that brave Silver.' I guess that's justice." Keeth grinned and leaned against his brother. "That should give us all some rest and freedom." Freedom, he thought with content. That's what it is all right. Freedom.