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shoulder to Taen, "Can you help?"
Breathlessly, she replied, "If Jaric still has his reason, yes."
The Kielmark whirled. Without breaking stride, he caught Taen in his arms for
the second time that morning. Bunched against his shoulders with no more
dignity than a bolt of cloth, the enchantress felt his powerful stride
lengthen until the guard fell tiredly behind. His fingers bruised. But
concerned for the Firelord's heir, Taen barely cared. She endured the sprint
to the keep without protest, her dream-sense ranging ahead to reach Jaric.
Contact loosed a flood of terror and pain; and a searing, untameable torrent
of power whose intended course had been balked. The force built with each
passing second, turning in-ward against Jaric's spirit with the wanton
destructiveness of a cyclone. He had no will left to break, Taen saw. In a
moment of shared horror, her control wavered. The geas surged across the dream
link. For one agonized instant she knew the full scope of Jaric' suffering.
The impact made her gasp. Untrained to handle such a terrible influx of
energy, her connection dis-solved, leaving her limp and disoriented in the
Kielmark's arms.
Taen raised her voice above the noise. "My skills are useless until we reach
Jaric."
The Kielmark nodded curtly. He leaped down a short flight of steps and
crossed an open courtyard. Rain howled over the roofpeaks, slashing the hair
across his brow. Taen's light robes became soaked within seconds. Gusts
screamed across the yard, battering shutters and doors with insane violence.
Yet the Kiel-mark would not be daunted. He ran on, until the keep loomed
through the downpour, a fixed silhouette against skies churning with clouds.
With his head bent against the elements, he ducked beneath the shelter of the
arch and kicked open the keep's double doors.
Inside, the rain ceased, but the rush of air became deafening. Slammed by the
drafts which eddied up from the dungeons, the Kielmark set Taen on her feet.
He wrapped his arm about her shoulders; sheltering her with his own great
bulk, they descended the stairwell. Step by labored step, he hauled Taen to
the cell where Jaric lay.
The door had been battered open. Harsh white light blazed from within,
spilling glare off the rough walls of the corridor. The damp air carried a
whetted edge of ozone. Through dazzled vision, Taen caught a glimpse of giant
wings, feathers barred in black and tawny gold. The blast of the gale drowned
her shout. She clung to the Kielmark's wrist and pointed. But the man had seen
the stormfalcon's presence already. He nodded, his profile lined in light
above her head, then shouldered stub-bornly forward. Wind hammered at his
balance. Sweaty fingers bored into Taen's flesh as he reached with his other
hand and hooked the grilled iron above the cell door.
Taen's face was buried in his shoulder as he strained to cross the threshold.
She felt his muscles strain and quiver under her cheek. But the wind funneled
through the narrow opening with the fury of a cataract, making headway
impossible. The Kielmark leaned down and yelled into the dream-weaver's ear.
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"When you reach him, hang on."
Taen nodded, whipped by strands of her own loosened hair. She felt the
Kielmark's arm bunch briefly against her back. Then he flung her bodily
against the might of the storm, through the door and into the cell.
Blinded by the brilliance of the sorcery, Taen stumbled to her knees, then
tripped headlong over a limp body. Lost to all sensation, Jaric failed to
react. Unable to see, Taen groped. Her right hand bruised against chain. Links
gouged her palm, cutting the skin. She twisted and caught hold. Wind shrilled
past her ears like the scream of a torturer's victim. Taen resisted its force.
She slid her hand up past the fetter and seized Jane's wrist. Her fingers dug
into flesh gone dangerously cold and slippery wet with blood. Taen knew
anguish at the discovery. While the stormfalcon's wings lashed the elements
into pri-mordial fury above her head, she steadied her talents to dream-send.
"Jaric!" Her call was desperate and her touch unerring; still her cry of
compassion raised no response. Taen flattened herself against the stone at the
boy's side and caught his face between warm hands. Then she sharpened her will
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