The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [173]
I relaxed slightly but not too much. The bird hopped lopsidedly closer. “Injuries are common after the firestorms. You do not look very important,” it added thoughtfully. “But perhaps Astyanax is right, and you are the one we seek.”
My involuntary withdrawal had jarred my legs, and I heard this through a red mist of pain. I fought against faintness.
“Are you Innle?” the bird asked.
The mist cleared for a moment in shock at hearing Maruman’s old title for me. Innle meant “seeker” in beast symbols. And hadn’t I heard that name more recently? The effort of sustaining the suppressing stopped me thinking clearly. I concentrated, shoring up the barrier, and slowly, the tides of pain ebbed.
The bird had not moved, but the other two had flown to the ground and hovered some way back.
“Why do you call me that?” I asked.
“The eldar sent us to find Innle,” Astyanax said, “the Seeker, who lay mortally injured in this valley. Many are dead nearby, but the eldar told that you would be alone, wounded and waiting to die. It is hard to know if you are the one. The eldar said there was no time for a mistake.”
“What is an eldar?” I asked, fear giving way to puzzlement.
This time Astyanax answered. “Eldar is the name of the high council of the Agyllians. Eldar are the wisest of our kind, and the wisest of the wise is the leader of the council—the Elder.”
Now I was sure I was dreaming or delirious with pain. A council of birds? Even the dogs and horses who were organized had not gone that far.
“What is this Seeker?”
“Are you the one we were sent to find?” Illyx demanded with waspish exasperation.
“Peace,” Ruatha sent gently. “She cannot know she is the one. We will take her.”
I blinked, forcing back a wave of nausea. “What do you mean?”
The bird ignored me. One last searching look from ice-colored eyes, then she thrust her head beneath one wing and appeared to be trying to pick out the feathers there. Instead she withdrew a pouch in her sharp beak, dropped it on the ground, and pecked at it until the woven edges parted. Inside was a net.
“No!” I struggled to maintain the suppressing.
“The Elder cannot leave the Ken, so we will take you there,” Ruatha sent calmly, reaching for my leg with one strong claw.
Pain.
More pain.
Darkness.
I fought against consciousness, frightened of what I would find.
“You will not die …,” sent a voice, as soft in my mind as a falling leaf.
Slowly, I let myself be drawn, opening my eyes to a sky so pale and clear it was more white than blue. The wind fanned my cheeks with icy fingers, and puffs of cloud burst from my lips and dissolved with each breath exhaled.
Dreaming …, I thought vaguely. All a dream … but so real. Another puff of cloud floated from my mouth. I turned my head slowly to follow it and froze.
I was having one of those horrible dreams where I seemed to be right on the edge of the highest cliff in the world. Below, visible through a veil of drifting cloud, was a vague grayness that might have been sea or land.
Piercing the cloud rose numerous stone columns; I seemed to be lying atop one. First there had been winged horses, then giant birds that thought more clearly than any human, and now I had been transported to the top of the world. I wondered dizzily if these were the dreams that came to the endless sleep called death.
Guanette birds wheeled and flew and skimmed all about in an intricate airborne dance. It was one of the loveliest sights I had ever seen.
I heard the rustle of wings and turned to see one of the birds come to ground. It was a male.
“You have woken, funaga. Welcome to the Ken. I am of the eldar. My name is Nerat. Among your kind, I would be called a healer.” It sent these thoughts past my shield without effort, with the same scything ability the other birds had demonstrated.
He moved closer but slowly, as if his bones were stiff. Just as Ruatha had done, the bird reached under a wing, withdrawing a pouch. Balancing precariously on one foot, it took the pouch into its talons, plucking it open with delicate pecking motions. A few grains