As told by Shaman Kra’heera shena Tale’sedrin
"You know the story of our people," Kra’heera said softly, as he waited for the moon to sail above the walls, shine down through the window, and touch the threads of the weaving. "Let me remind you again, to set your mind upon the proper paths."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tre’valen nod, and waited for a moment, absorbing the silence—and the dust of centuries rising from the weaving.
"In the long-ago time, we and the Hawkbrothers were one people, the Kaled’a’in. We served and loved an overlord, one of the Great Mages, and when he became drawn into a war, so, too, did we. The end of that war brought great destruction, so great that it destroyed our homeland. The mage himself had great care for his people, and he gave the warning and the means for us to escape before the destruction itself was wrought. It took us many years to return from whence we had escaped; when we came here, to this very spot-"
The moon crept through the roof-window. It had been edging down toward the weaving. He had paced his words to coincide with it reaching the first threads of the border, as he reached with the power She gave her shamans and invoked the magic of the weaving.
"—this is what we saw."
Shaman Ravenwing passed her hand over her eyes, wishing she could change reality as she blotted out the sight.
The debris that they had encountered on their way here, the flattened trees, complete absence of animal and bird life, the closer they came to the site, had given some warning. The ridge of earth they had approached had told them more. But nothing prepared them for reality.
There was no homeland. Only a vast crater, as far as the eye could see, dug many, many man-heights into the ravaged earth. So intense had been the heat of the blast that had caused it, that the earth at the bottom had been fused into a lumpy sheet of glassy rock.
Ravenwing took her hand from her eyes and looked again. It was no better at the second viewing, and Ravenwing reached out blindly for the two Clansfolk standing beside her. She stood with her arms about their shoulders, theirs about hers; and her eyes streamed tears as she forced herself to face the death of all she had ever known.
She sat inside the hastily-pitched Clan Council tent, erected to provide shade—and to block the sight of the destruction. With her sat the shamans, the Clan Elders, every leader of every Clan of the Kaled’a’in. They were here to make decisions—and possibly to settle a rift that was threatening to split the people in twain.
The dispute centered about magic. Five of the Clans used it, four did not. Traditionally, the four who tended and bred the horse herds were the Clans which avoided the use of magery; Hawk, Wolf, Grasscat, and Deer. The five Clans which—among other things—actually manipulated the breeding of the horses, as well as other creatures, did so by means of magic. These five had fielded many mages and Healers to their overlord, Mage Urtho. Falcon, Owl, and Raven Clans were protesting that they were not going to give up their powers, as the previous four were insisting. Two more Clans, Eagle and Fox, were ambivalent, but were disturbed by the idea of sacrificing something so integral to their lives.
Ravenwing’s own Clan, Taylesederin, was foremost in demanding that magic be eliminated from their lives.
"Our warsteeds are everything anyone could wish; there have been no changes made to them for generations. The bondbirds are not entirely all one could wish, but is it worth holding such a dangerous, double-edged power simply to improve them a little more?"
That was Ravenwing’s Clan Chief, Silverhorse, the foremost opponent of magic in all its shapes and colors.
Firemare Valavyska, Elder for the Owls, widened her eyes with contempt. "What, you think that is all magic does? Precisely what do you intend to do about those who do not share your scruples, our enemies who would use any weapon they have against us? Who will protect you from the attacks of mages if you banish magic from our lives?"
"Who protected us this time?" Silverhorse shouted, gesturing wildly at the desolation beyond the tent flap. "Is it worth a repetition of that simply to have a little more power?"
"Magic protected you this time by giving you the means to escape, little brother," rumbled Suncat Trevavyska, of Falcons. "Magic has saved you before, and it will again. Besides, how do you propose to cleanse this land if not by magic? Only magic can undo what magic has been done."
It was but the opening blow of a dispute that was to continue for days….
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The last member of the Five Clans vanished into the north, and Ravenwing dried her eyes on her sleeve, swallowing the last of her tears. In the end, the dispute could not be healed, not by the softest words of the most reasonable and coolest heads in the Clans nor by any appeals to brotherhood and solidarity.
The Five Clans, now calling themselves "Taylesederas," or "Brothers of the Hawks," for their association with the corvine and raptor bondbirds they had been developing—had determined to split from the Four Clans who wished to banish magic from their lives for all time. The Four Clans had no name for themselves at the moment—and no home, no purpose…
Winds of Fate. Lackey, Mercedes. 1991. p. 295-298.