Legend of the Ravenstone (15 page)

“Why?”

“Because if she wanted to name you ‘Jinx,’ she would have done so upon your birth.”

Jinx stuck out his chin. “You just don’t like it.”

“Indeed, and I will not employ that name,” Arcturus returned.

“Ya gotta call me somethin’,” Jinx argued. “Or I might just ignore you.”

“Then you would find it best to disclose your given name.”

Jinx frowned and picked up a stick. “That’s not fair. Hawkwing don’t haveta give his name.”

The tracker regarded the thief thoughtfully. “‘Hawkwing’ is my name.”

“That’s what your ma named ya?” Jinx asked, unwilling to believe him. He began to peel the bark off the stick with his knife.

“It is the name I earned,” Hawkwing said. “Amongst my people, it is proper to refer to one by their Spirit Name, not their birth name.”

“So you imply there was a rite of passage by which you earned your name,” Arcturus said, leaning closer.

“At fifteen, you venture into the Wild to discover yourself. You do not return until you have accomplished your mission.”

“What sort of mission?” Kariayla asked, intrigued.

Hawkwing stoked the fire before he answered. “That would depend upon your adventure. The mission asserts itself, but you must return with proof of your success.”

Arcturus waved the cloud of smoke from his face. “In my many years of existence, I have versed myself in various cultures and their traditions. I have not, however, heard of any people sending their youth into the wilderness to invent a name.”

Hawkwing merely shrugged.

“You ain’t heard of Falkeereens, Arcturus?” Jinx asked, still agitated over the name conflict.

“Do you mean to say ‘Falquirian?’” the Markanturian asked dryly.

“Yeah. Them.”

“I have heard of the race, but I confess I know little about them.” Arcturus gestured to the tracker. “Perhaps you would like to elaborate?”

“I would not want to interfere with Master Jinx sharing his proper name,” Hawkwing said.

“Wait a minute,” the thief balked, “I ain’t gonna—”

“Please do,” Arcturus encouraged.

“You can tell us, Jinx,” Kariayla said.

“There is no logical reason for you to refuse such a trivial bit of information,” Arcturus added.

“It ain’t special,” Jinx said, thrusting the tip of the stick into the fire. The motion startled Ruby, who had fallen asleep beside him.

“It is who we are, not our name, that makes us special,” Arcturus preached.

“If I might make a suggestion...” Hawkwing looked at everyone in turn. “Rather than pressure an individual to disclose a personal fact, we might each contribute something of ourselves.”

“So we all haveta share somethin,’” Jinx clarified. A grin slowly arched across his scruffy face. “Yeah, I like that better.”

“Let it be known that I harbor no secrets,” Arcturus said.

Kariayla shifted uncomfortably. “Does someone dictate what we have to disclose?”

“I think we can make inquiries, but ultimately it is for the individual to decide,” Hawkwing said.

Jinx clapped his hands together. “So, then, Mr. Wing... Gonna tell us how you got your name?”

Hawkwing smiled. “Not on this particular occasion.”

“Then you will tell us your birth name,” Arcturus said.

“No.”

“Might you tell us about Snowfire?” Kariayla asked, her eyes upon the hawk.

The tracker shook his head and removed his hat. “I will tell you one of my greatest fears.”

“Ooo!” Jinx elbowed Ruby. “This should be good.”

Hawkwing’s smile faded. “I will tell you my fear, because you may question my actions along our route—especially as we near the Nightwind Mountains.”

“What’s so special about the mountains?” Jinx asked.

“Let me first say that there are creatures in this world with great power—most of which are seldom seen.”

“The Great Spirits,” Kariayla whispered, and the tracker looked at her, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight.

He stirred the embers, and new flames arose where others had died. “A few of these creatures have earned enough repute to carry them into folklore and fairytales, where others have simply been forgotten with time. What your mother or father may have used as a story to correct your behavior as a child could, in fact, have a strand of truth to it.”

Hawkwing held up a hand before Jinx could interrupt. “I may have been a little older than you, Jinx, when I began my lengthy excursions to follow in my father’s footsteps. There was so much of Secramore yet uncharted, and I had grand ambitions of drawing the maps of places that no one had ever seen. The southeast was well-known around the coast, but further inland was a dark and veiled range of peaks known as the Nightwind. The few stories I had heard were vague and inconsistent. Ravenous beasts, malevolent giants, and even ghosts were said to dwell in the mountains. All this I dismissed as fiction.

“But I was lured to the Nightwind for another reason. My father had disappeared when I was thirteen. His last journey had been to those very mountains, and whether I believed I would find him, or whether I sought the truth to his end, I felt I had to go.”

Hawkwing stopped and took a drink from his costrel, and the others waited expectantly. “There
are
malevolent creatures in the Nightwind,” he said in a low voice. “They are the Durangiel.”

“Never heard of ‘em,” Jinx said, and Kariayla nodded.

Arcturus cleared his throat. “These are the counterparts to the benevolent creatures Humans call ‘Elves.’ Creatures of fantasy.”

Hawkwing did not acknowledge his last comment. “The Durangiel were chased into the mountains by their cousins, the Ilangiel—‘Elves’, as Arcturus said. There they dwelled and took the Humans from nearby villages as their slaves. The slaves worked the mountain mines, harvesting crystals to suit the purposes of their dark hosts.”

Hawkwing’s gaze lifted toward the east, as if the mountains were there to see. “I had found myself in one of the villages, and the people gave me shelter. They seemed kindly enough, though there was suspicion in all that they did. They lived very well, with the greenest fields and fullest crops I have ever seen. I did not know that the village thrived because of the people’s relationship with the Durangiel. Once my hosts had learned that I was there to chart their village upon my maps, they slipped feverroot into my drink. I fell into a deep sleep, and when I awoke, I was in a mountain camp.”

“What?” Jinx exclaimed.

“Why would they drug you?” Kariayla asked.

“They did not want their paradise discovered,” Arcturus said.

Hawkwing nodded. “I was a foreigner—an outsider—amongst their village slaves. There were others like me—travelers who were betrayed and were forced to work the mines.” He fought a shudder. “The tunnels were black and convoluted. They were big enough to crawl through, but they were long—some of them reaching into the heart of a mountain. We had ghost stones to serve as lanterns: small, glowing crystals we wore around our necks to guide us in the dark. There was an entrance and an exit to each tunnel, and once you began your passage, you had to complete it, for there was no room to turn around.”

“Didja ever try to escape?” Jinx asked, both his and Ruby’s eyes as round as a full moon.

“The greatest weapon of the Durangiel is their Light,” Hawkwing said. “Their Light is their magic, and it feeds life as much as it feeds from life. To be near the Light is euphoric; I cannot describe it through words. The Durangiel intoxicate you with it, and to be away from it is a form of starvation. It is physically painful to be isolated from their power. I tried four times to leave; each time I was found at the brink of death.”

“Yet clearly you did escape,” Arcturus said, humoring the story.

“I did not—not in the four years I was there,” the tracker said, his voice quiet and dark. “We were rescued...but not before one of the mines collapsed. I was one of the few who survived, but for days I was there, pinned beneath the rocks in a lightless tunnel.”

“What happened?” Kariayla asked, horrified.

“The Ilangiel had stormed the mountains to free us,” Hawkwing said. “But there was one wizard in their company. This was how I met Bill. It was not a valiant victory, freeing despondent slaves from the mountains. Many refused to leave, for they had grown too dependent upon the Light. Those of us who did not stay were taken to Veloria to regain our strength of will. Bill remained a steadfast friend during that time.”

“So you’re afraid of the mountains,” Jinx said.

“Or the Durangiel,” Kariayla added.

“Small spaces.” Hawkwing gestured to the sky. “Given a choice, I will sleep beneath the stars than in a room with a bed.”

“The fear is regrettable but illogical. I am surprised you felt the need to construe an elaborate story to explain it,” Arcturus said. “Still, you weave an intriguing and entertaining tale.”

The tracker’s calm countenance did not break. “Why do you find it so difficult to believe?”

“Well,” Arcturus said, puffing from his pipe, “the first and most obvious answer is that you employed fictional characters: the Ilangiel and the Durangiel. Secondarily, if ‘Bill’ and William are the same wizard, I would be hard-pressed to believe he would involve himself in such an act of heroics. He tends to stay at arm’s length from dire circumstances.”

“I cannot argue your logic,” Hawkwing said, replacing his hat. “But I am known for a sound tale when the mood is right.”

Arcturus sat back with a smile.

“It was only a story?” Kariayla asked, incredulous. She had been too distracted to finish her meal, and only now did it recover her attention.

“My fear is tight spaces,” Hawkwing confessed with a shrug.

Jinx scratched his head. “Well, if it was just a story, it was a really good story. Don’tcha think, Ru—?” He found the imp was asleep again. “I’m sure she liked it.”

“Since our tracker has divulged a secret, I will do the same,” Arcturus said.

“Is it something you’re afraid of?” Jinx asked.

“No, my boy. It is, in fact, an action that was considered rebellious—almost treasonous—in the eyes of my people. It is the reason I was forced to leave Markanturos.”

“
You
did something against the law?”

Arcturus drew himself up. “The action itself did not involve causing harm or theft of property.”

The thief’s shoulders slumped.

“What did you do?” Kariayla asked, supporting her friend.

“I allowed two outsiders into our capital city,” Arcturus said, and he waited for a reaction from his audience.

“Is that against Markanturian law?” Kariayla wondered aloud.

“Oh, I assure you that it caused much commotion,” the Markanturian said passionately. “Though I believe the greater injustice was the pressure placed upon me to leave. You see, as a political figure, this was condemning to my reputation. What my peers failed to see were my ambitions of opening Markanturian eyes to a larger world beyond our walls. Until that point, outsiders were forbidden in our city without the highest permission from the Sovereign, not to mention a qualified escort.”

“You’re a rebel alright,” Jinx said, then yawned.

Arcturus frowned. “I do not expect a thief to understand the gravity of my actions. The circumstances were rather complicated, as were the consequences to what I had done. To this day my people remain as closed-minded as ever.”

“Kariayla,” Hawkwing said, “what mystery will you share?”

An expression of panic flashed across her face, giving way to uncertainty. “Er...I can call storms?”

“Really?” Jinx asked in disbelief, and she nodded.

“My dear, that would be a fair disclosure except that even I hoped to learn something new about you,” Arcturus said gently.

“Oh.” She thought a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. “I...” She blushed. “I like to sing.”

“Ah!” Arcturus said. “Now that is a pleasant revelation.”

“All girls like to sing,” Jinx said, poking his whittled, charred stick into the ground. “I think you oughta call a storm.”

The Markanturian sighed. “So that it might rain upon us? Let us consider what we ask. It would be far more appealing to hear her voice.”

“Now?” Kariayla asked, her eyes wide.

“Certainly, my dear.”

“Impromptu solos might not be in her best interest,” Hawkwing said, giving Kariayla a knowing nod.

“Well, of course, she is free to sing if and when she pleases.”

Her blush deepened.

“So we have come full-circle,” Arcturus said, his gaze landing squarely on Jinx. “My boy, we have awaited your name.”

“Hmph,” Jinx grumbled, then muttered something under his breath.

“Your pardon, but we could not hear you.”

“Jameson,” the thief snapped. “I’m named after my pa.” He brandished the stick. “But don’tcha go callin’ me that! I go by Jinx. Got it?”

“My boy, I have already asserted my stance on that particular issue. What if I shorten the name to ‘James’? That will honor your father.”

“What? No.” Jinx shook his head emphatically.

“Then it is settled.” Arcturus put his pipe away and arranged his blanket.

“But I said ‘no’,” Jinx argued.

“I have learned,” Hawkwing said to him, “that some battles we win, others we lose. With all due respect, Master Jinx, I do not believe you win this one—not against a man a few hundred years your senior.”

The thief sighed and tossed his stick into the fire.

T
he days passed without much hardship. The wagon rolled through sun and rain, and Hawkwing would stop at various towns and villages as they worked their way east along the Southern Link of the Traders’ Ring. The tracker’s mysterious funding never seemed to dwindle, even if the companions preferred a room at the inn or a meal not cooked over a primitive fire. True to his word, however, Hawkwing seldom joined them inside, and when he did it was only to share their company at a meal. His great height seemed to diminish any dining hall, no matter how grand, but it was Hawkwing who seemed greatly diminished when the Nightwind Mountains rose dark and ominous on the horizon. The quiet man was nearly silent in the days it took them to pass the peaks, and everyone but Arcturus acknowledged his unease. Hawkwing’s story lingered in their minds, and they were not surprised that meals were taken on the road as opposed to any place of residence there.