She has foreseen this, my Lady has told me, in no uncertain terms. She knows the potential of her plan. All that she must do is bring Aydrian to the required level of power and understanding.
But there's the rub, I fear. For Aydrian Wyndon, raised without the gentle touch of his mother or the love of his father, raised in near seclusion with harsh treatment and high standards from the moment he was old enough to understand them, will not he complete as a man, let alone as a ranger. There was a side to Elbryan, the Nightbird, beyond his abilities with the sword and his understanding of nature. The greatest gift ofNightbird, the greatest strength of the man Elbryan, was compassion, was a willingness to sacrifice every thing for the greater good. Nightbird's gift to the world was his death, when he threw his wounded form fully into Jilseponie's final battle with the demon-possessed Markwart, knowing full well that he could not survive that conflict, that, in aiding Jilseponie, he would be giving his very life.
He did that. He didn't hesitate, because Nightbird was possessed of so much more than we of the Touel'alfar ever gave to him - because Elbryan the Nigh third was a man of true character and true community.
Will the child raised alone and unloved he as much?
This is my fear.
Chapter 1 First Blood
They were out of the mountains now, and the going was smooth and easy. Diredusk most of all seemed to revel in the softer and flatter ground, the powerful pinto pony striding long and eagerly under Brynn's expert handling. True to his noble To-gai heritage, the pony could trot for many miles before needing a break, and even then, he was quickly ready to be back on the trail, straining against Brynn's hold to travel faster and faster.
For Brynn, riding along quiet forest trails on a late-spring or early-summer day was about as wonderful as things could get, and would have been perfect - except that with every passing mile the young ranger's eyes turned back less and looked forward ever more eagerly. She couldn't enjoy the ride as much when the destination was all-important.
Belli'mar Juraviel rode with the woman at times, Diredusk hardly feeling the extra weight of the diminutive creature. The elf typically sat in front of Brynn, turned to face the woman and lying back along the pony's powerful neck. He didn't speak to Brynn much along the trails, though, for he could see that the woman was falling deeper and deeper into thought about the destination awaiting them. That's what Juraviel wanted from the young woman; that's what the Touel'alfar demanded of the ranger. The goal was all-important, because Lady Dasslerond had said it was, and nothing else should clutter Brynn Dharielle's mind - not the fragrance of the summer forest awakening fully, not the sounds of the songbirds, not even the sparkle of the morning sun on the dewy grasses and leaves.
And so they rode quietly, and sometimes Juraviel leaped from Diredusk's back and fluttered up to the branches of the trees, moving to higher vantage points to scout the road ahead.
Their evenings, too, were for the most part quiet, sitting about a fire, enjoying their evening meal. In this setting, with little stimulation about them, Brynn would sometimes tell Juraviel stories of her homeland, of her parents and their small nomadic tribe, Kayleen Kek. On one such night, with Andur'Blough Inninness a hundred miles behind them, the woman became especially nostalgic.
"We always went to the higher ground in the summer," she told her com-panion. ?Up the sides of the great mountains in the range you call the Belt-and-Buckle, but that we called Uleshon Twak, the Dragon Spines.
We'd camp so high sometimes that it was hard simply to draw in sufficient air. You'd always feel as if you couldn't catch your breath. Every step seemed to take minutes to execute, and a tent in sight might take you an hour to walk to. I remember that at times blood would run from my nose, for no reason. My mother would fret over me, but my father would just say that the high-sickness could do that and it was nothing to bother about."
Juraviel watched her as she continued her tale, her head tilted back so that her eyes were staring up at the night canopy. It wasn't starry that night, with thickening clouds drifting in from the west. The full moon, Sheila, shone behind those clouds, sometimes seeming