Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Treyvan smiled reassuringly. “Verrry well, but I name you my rrresssident advisssorrr. I am currriousss—what arrre thessse people doing with yourrr cassst-off featherrrsss? They trrreat them with—rrreverencsse.”

Kelvren rumblechuckled. “Ssstorrriesss, my Lorrrd Trrreyvan. Belief, and ssstorrriesss.” He sobered and continued. “I told everrryone in thisss camp that would lisssten about ourrr people, ourrr herrroesss, and the deedsss we have accomplissshed. I wasss all but csserrrtain I would die sssoon. I had to tell ourrr ssstorrriesss. Yourrr tale wasss one I told. My Lorrrd Trrreyvan, you arrre one of the Grrreat Onesss. When you arrrived, I thought I wasss feverrred. When you deferrred to me, I thought I wasss mad. Beforrre you arrrived, I knew my end russshed towarrrdsss me. I knew that I had to end making a differrrencsse.” He paused to rest for a few moments, then resumed after several deep breaths. “The sssoldierrrsss trrruly believe that to sssome degrrree, I am invincssible. They sssaw I sssurrrvived thessse woundsss, and knew I prrrotected theirrr own. They believe that what I am—what I do—isss magic of a mossst potent kind. Ammarrri and Jeft—they paint thessse featherrrsss of mine in Ammarrri’sss liquid light. The fletcherrrsss—they sssnip thessse parrrtsss of my ssshed featherrrsss and bind them in with the norrrmal featherrrsss. And they shine—to thessse peoplesss’ eyesss, they look magical. And the sssoldierrrsss who recsseive thessse arrrowsss believe they arrre now gifted with sssome of my powerrr.”

Understanding dawned on Treyvan, and he sat up straight.

“If thessse sssoldierrrsss go into battle with thessse arrrowsss they will feel morrre confident. It will rrreinforcsse theirrr brrraverrry. It could be enough to help them win, if it comesss to that.” He glanced around the parts of the camp he could see, and spoke more softly. “My lorrrd Trrreyvan. I will confide my beliefsss. We arrre not like otherrr crrreaturrresss, who wonderrr if a deity even carrresss if they exissst,” Kelvren continued. “We grrryphonsss werrre not crrreated by godsss, we werrre crrreated by a man. We werrre made forrr a purrrpossse. We werrre not crrreated to fight warrrsss, though we have. We werrre not made to rrressscue, to thwarrrt, to chassse, or kill. I believe we werrre made to inssspirrre. With all my bonesss and hearrrt I feel that to inssspirrre isss the ultimate of what Urrrtho wanted of usss.”

Treyvan cocked his head, his attention completely absorbed by what Kelvren told him.

“This isss what I wasss made forrr. When I sssaw ssso much missserrry herre—felt it frrrom them, felt my own life fading—I had to combine the worrrssst cssircumssstancssess in sssome ssspecial way—I needed to trrransssmute ssso many bad thingsss into good thingsss. It became clearrr to me when I came down frrrom that hill jussst to eat. Sssoldierrrsss wanted to sssharrre theirrr food with me. They wanted to sssupporrrt me, touch me forrr luck. I rrrealized. What bound it all togetherrr wasss wonderrr. They believed in sssomething grrreaterrr than they had the day beforrre, jussst becaussse I wasss herrre. And ssso.” He gestures with a few taloned fingers toward the industrious fletchers. “I put sssimple plansss into motion, and theirrr belief imbued the motion with powerrr, and it moved on itsss own.”

“Without a single spell left to you,” Treyvan murmured, incredulous.

Kelvren closed his eyes and with some effort, pushed himself up to a sitting position, wings still flat on the floor. “Thessse people arrre watching usss. What they sssee rrright now will matterrr to them the rrressst of theirrr livesss, and they will tell theirrr children and the hissstorrry will sssprrread. It may be—a minorrr legacssy—but I hope that even if I fall, it will be in the tale that I trrried. Even if I die, I will not have not failed, becaussse to the lassst I did not give up. I am sssomething extrrraorrrdinarrry to them. Therrre arrre no enchantmentsss on the arrrowsss, but the arrrowsss arrre not falssse. They arrre magic becaussse the sssoldierrrsss believe in them.”

The arranged time for Whitebird to arrive was nearing. Treyvan sent word to the mill that, to bring in his trondi’irn, he would open a Gate to connect partway to Haven, and that anything they needed to send through in half a minute could pass through after his specialist from the other side arrived. He caught Hallock biting his lower lip as he sat by the slumbering Kelvren.

“What trrroublesss you, Firrrssst?”

“It’s the Gate. A doorway to just step through to be closer to Haven.”

“Clossserrr to yourrr Genni,” Treyvan shrewdly noted.