Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga) (34 page)

“Your search turned up nothing,
obviously,” he prompted.

“No sign of them anywhere. The few
ogres we managed to capture told us little enough. The avedrin were hidden in
the Shadow Mounds. No, they were deep in the Drakhans. No, in the Silver
Mountains. No, they’d all been eaten. All lies. When one ogre saw we were
applying pain to his den mates, he cut out his own tongue to prevent himself
from spilling the big secret.”

Kelyn’s belly clenched. His gentle
brother, speaking of these methods like they were a request for lamb chops?
But, then, this wasn’t Kieryn, wasn’t it? “You …
torture
them?”

Thorn’s eyes narrowed to cool blue
slits. “If I told you what the naenion have done to human and Elari for
pleasure alone, you’d spew your guts. Yes, I tortured them. I delved into their
twisted, reptilian minds with magical fingers and tore their brains apart. But
they have shields, see. Magical barriers that keep Rhian and myself from reading
their thoughts. So torture was our last option. When that yielded nothing, we
stopped taking prisoners.”

“So you’ve given up trying to find
them.”

Thorn answered with a sorrowful
nod.

Kelyn flipped a chair around and
sat with his arms draped over the backrest. His fingers knotted together so
tightly that the knuckles throbbed. He had so many questions, but he didn’t
know how to ask them. At the nearest shelf, Rhian started flipping through
books. “You joined my brother during all this?”

Rhian slid the books back and with
a wry grin said, “Bad timing, eh? That’s what the dranithi told me when she put
an arrow in me for trespassing. Her troop dragged me to one of their watch
towers and kept me under lock and key for a couple weeks until Thorn returned
from poking around in the … Shadow Mounds, was it? The Elarion weren’t in a
generous mood. They said my life depended on whether Thorn took me for an
apprentice. Thought I’d seen my last ray of sunlight for sure.”

Thorn sighed in overdramatic
fashion. “Of course, I took pity on him. Can’t stand to see a grown boy cry.”

“I did not cry, my lord. Hell, I
didn’t even beg. I just wanted to know what in the Abyss was going on. But
before I knew it, he was dragging me all over the bleeding continent. Do you
know how hard it is to learn how to conjure fire with ogres and this jackass
breathing down your neck?”

That managed to tease a chuckle out
of Kelyn.

“But I assure you, I learned to use
a sword damn quick.”

“An entirely new life.”

“You have no idea, m’ lord.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Thorn
said. “My pupil came to Avidanyth armed with unbeatable bar-brawling skills.
I’d bet on him over Eliad any day. I just had to show him which end of a sword
to hold onto and pretend to be you, War Commander. He even learned that I meant
what I said.”

Rhian snorted. “Aye, the hard way.
You wanna see?” Child-like enthusiasm sprang into his eyes.

Thorn looked to the ceiling. “Oh,
please, no comparing battle scars.”

Grinning as if irking his teacher
were the greatest pleasure under the sun, Rhian laid aside his sword belt,
stripped off the leather jerkin, and turned his back to the light of the
stained-glass lamp. Four purple scars slashed from his left shoulder blade to
his ribs on the right. “Shredded me open to the bone.”

“An ogre did this?” Kelyn asked.
The span and strength of those fingers!

“Never turn your back on one,”
Rhian said, only half in jest. “No matter how dead he looks.”

“I’ll remember that,” Kelyn said
dryly.

“The gashes were the least of the
danger,” Thorn said. “Naenion feed on carrion, and they don’t bathe. Rhian was
down for weeks with fever. We almost lost him. Pulled all the infection out
that I could, only to have it spread again.”

“Aye, I kept thinking, ‘Why in hell
did I ever leave Sandy Cape? Sure I coulda died there just as unhappily.’ But I
got my revenge, so I did.” Many a green cat-like stripe adorned the young
avedra’s forearms.

Knowing more about these monsters
provided Kelyn no comfort. He sagged into the chair again. “What are we to do?
Sit and wait for these sons-of-bitches to find my daughter?”

“That’s why I came home. We’re
going to use all our resources to keep her safe.” Thorn’s hands were as solid
as stone on Kelyn’s shoulders. “Do you hear me? Tomorrow morning I’ll begin her
training. Jaedren’s, too. He’s young yet, but it’s necessary.”

Kelyn nodded. His neck felt as
wobbly as a reed.

“Rhoslyn doesn’t need to know why,
only that it’s long past due.”

Kelyn climbed to his feet. “No, I
can’t hide this from her. But I’ll wait till morning. One of us should sleep
soundly.”

T
horn waited until the War
Commander hauled himself from the library before he peered back at the iron
stair. “You can come out now.”

A gasp rose from the stairwell.
Dark, disheveled curls and a pair of elvish blue eyes popped into view. “You
should have just invited me, Uncle Thorn.”

“Hnh, says you.” He returned to the
sideboard, filled his glass for the third time. He drank too much these days.

Rhian dived back into his jerkin.
Carah approached the table, nose turned up, but Thorn wasn’t fooled. The heat
in her cheeks and her sidelong glance in Rhian’s direction told him she’d seen
the whole picture.

“How much did you hear?”

Thorn’s question reclaimed his
niece’s attention. She stood alongside the writing table, thumbnail digging
into the old wood. “Well, you mentioned Old Blood and bear tracks.”

“Ach.” Everything, then. “It’s all
for the better, I guess. Spares me from having to repeat it all later.”

A smile threatened to crack through
Carah’s embarrassment. “Are you really going to begin my training?”

Thorn turned his own nose high.
“Only if you really and truly forgive me.”

“Oh, Uncle Thorn,” she sang and
flung her arms around him. “You had your reasons for not coming back. I
understand that now. I’ll never be angry with you again.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that a week
from now. You might hate my guts by then.”

“I won’t disappoint you, I
promise.”

~~~~

A
t dawn, Thorn led his new
apprentices to the north gatehouse, and atop the wind-battered towers he
explained the ways of the universe, just as Zellel had done for him more than
twenty years before. “If I told you that everything is made of things you can’t
see or touch, would you believe me? Energy is the most fundamental building
block that makes up our world. Energies bonded together in vast patterns.”

Carah and Jaedren stared at him,
enrapt, eyes large with wonder.

“Take a look at the stones and
mortar that make up this wall.” Saw-tooth crenellations hemmed them in,
blushing in the early light. Though the north gatehouse was rarely used,
sentries were stationed here regularly. Thorn had dismissed them, but curiosity
drew them back along the parapets. They listened from a distance, waiting for
lightning to spark.

When Thorn said nothing else, his
apprentices realized they were to take his invitation literally. They peered
closer at the heavy basalt blocks, the gray and green lichen painting the gray
stone, the ancient, crumbling mortar. Carah shrugged and looked up at him,
puzzled. Jaedren asked, “How small do the grains become?”

Thorn grinned. “How small, indeed?
Until they stop being grains and become something else. The sun’s heat, the
dancer’s bonfire, the force behind the currents of the sea and the wings of the
wind, even your own bodies, all these things are composed of energies.” He
gathered them close, laid heavy hands on their shoulders so their attention did
not stray, and so the nosey sentries could not hear. “As avedrin, you have the
privilege of being able to tap into these energies, move them around, even
transmute them. Some say it is our curse.”

“Curse?” Jaedren gulped.

“In such an ability lies enormous
responsibility. Within it lies the potential for great good and greater danger.
In manipulating these energies, we alter the fabric of the universe. We disturb
its weave, for better or worse. If I were to remove a stone from this tower’s
foundation, I would hasten its inevitable collapse, even if we could not see or
feel the effects of this change for years to come. Before you act, you must
think. We must always be cautious. For all things are connected, and plucking
one stone, one thread may begin a dire unraveling that will affect generations
a hundred, a thousand years from now. The strongest of us could destroy this
world with a whisper.”

Jaedren’s breathing came in panicked
little pants. “I’m scared. I don’t want to learn now.”

Thorn squeezed his shoulder,
offered a tender smile. “I do not tell you these things to frighten you, only
to make you understand that this is no game. What you have inside you is no
trifling matter. To ignore it now is to risk disaster later. Before I knew I
was avedra, I killed a man without touching him. He was a bad man, to be sure,
but the fire from my hands was not intentional. What if that fire had shot wide
and killed the king or my father—or your father? I tell you these things,
Jaedren, so that when you call fire from your hands, you will understand fully
what you are doing.”

The boy relaxed, and after a moment
he nodded, determined to continue.

Thorn released them, adding in a
lighter tone, “You will begin as I did, by developing your eyes and ears.
Silent Speech and Veil Sight will be your best defense against the creatures
who hide behind the Veil. The green men, Jaedren. There, too, dwell the fairies
and Elarion, and all beings of the Second Point of the Triangle. Humans and
animals belong to the Third Point. The dwarves occupy some fuzzy place in
between—meaning they can use some spells and peek into the Veil, even if they
live on our side of it. And, of course, Ana-Forah is the First Point. Some say
the dragons dwell there with her. I think I can corroborate that belief.” He
remembered vast wings sweeping from clouds of light.

“Oh, yes, Uncle Thorn,” said Carah,
rolling her eyes, “Etivva has lectured us relentlessly on the relationships
among the Triangle. It’s her favorite bedtime story.”

“Then take it to heart. She is not
one for foolishness. You ought to know.”

Jaedren chuckled behind his hand,
quick to catch the jab. Carah scowled at him.

“Remember, young avedrin, as far as
we understand, thought is merely impulses of energy. Yesterday, when my horse
‘spoke’ to you, Jaedren, and when the falcons pled for freedom, Carah, the
animals were placing thought impulses inside your heads, even if they didn’t
know what they were doing. An avedra doesn’t hear the thoughts of others with
mundane ears, bits of flesh and whatnot. They hear by extending the awareness
of the mind and tapping into those impulses.”

“This should be easy,” Carah said.
“We’ve already proven we can do it.”

Thorn replied with a dry grin.
Should he tell them there was a difference between accident and intention?
Better to let them figure it out on their own. “Right. With that, I’ll say
nothing more, and we enter the silence of learning.”

~~~~

C
arah drummed her fingers on
the pages of a superbly dull book, heaved a sigh, slouched farther down into
the miserably hard chair, and cleared her throat though it didn’t need it.
Anything to break the silence. For hours, silence oozed from the library walls and
dripped from the coffered ceiling.

At lunchtime, Uncle Thorn sent for
the pearl fisher. Even then the silence remained unbroken. They conversed over
roasted quail, or appeared to do so, without making a sound. After the dinner
things had been cleared away, Rhian remained, apparently at Thorn’s insistence,
so they could talk and give his students something to listen for. The sun
dipped lower over the western towers, and the two of them occupied the far end
of the table, hands gesturing, lips moving with half-formed words, faces changing
expression. The only audible sound either of them made was the occasional burst
of laughter.

Carah heard nothing. Just the slow
passing of a wasted day as wax melted down the side of the hour candle.
This
is a joke. They’ll soon look at me, point, and tell me what an idiot I am for having
believed them
.

Thorn looked at her then, turned up
his palms while his mouth shaped an ‘o’ that might have been a half-formed ‘no’
or ‘joke.’ His eyes were full of words, but Carah heard not a one. She decided
to ignore him.

Jaedren, on the other hand, sat in
Thorn’s shadow, intently watching him and Rhian carry on their silent
conversation, as if at any moment he’d make sense of the nonsense. Every once
in a while his eyes closed, but not in boredom-induced sleep.

Carah listened for the voices of
servants in the corridor, but for once they made not a peep. A finch sang in
Grandmother’s garden. As lovely as the song was, it was just birdsong. Maybe
she hadn’t heard the falcons speak to her all those years ago. Maybe she had
lied so Da wouldn’t punish her, and maybe she came to believe that lie.

She sprang out of the chair, paced
to the window, watched the gardener trimming the greening hedges along the
garden path and Esmi cutting daffodils, then huffed and flung herself down in
the chair again. She was going crazy! Why didn’t Uncle Thorn just tell her how
it was done? All he’d said was what
not
to do; a great deal of good that
did.

“This is ridiculous!” Her voice thundered
across the silence. “How can anyone learn anything this way?”

Thorn swung a hand. His knuckles
smacked Carah square on the mouth. She gasped and pressed her fingers to her
stinging lips. For a moment she couldn’t believe he’d done it. Her beloved
uncle. And how cool and remorseless he was, sitting there waiting for her next
move. This wasn’t the same person who told her bedtime stories and brought her
lovely gifts.

Jaedren’s eyes had gone as wide as
if he were privy to a scandal, and that blasted pearl fisher didn’t bother
looking at her at all. As straight-faced as ever, he had to have known what
Thorn was going to do, and he didn’t care!

Carah’s face flared. She swept up
her book and launched it at Thorn. He snatched it in both hands, hurled it
back. Carah ducked. The book missed her forehead by a hand-span, sailed into
the wall and flapped onto the floor with all the grace of an arrow-skewered
pigeon.

Thorn reared up from the table and
jabbed a finger at the book.

Carah jumped from her chair, fists
knotted at her sides. “
You
pick it up!”

His eyes turned to iron as he bore
down on her. She covered her face with her hands, but he had no intention of
striking her again. Her grabbed her by the scruff and the stays on the back of
her dress and frog-hopped her to the library door. As if pulled by invisible
strings, the door opened, and Thorn gave her a toss. She landed hard on her
hands and knees, and by the time she scrambled to her feet, the library door
slammed shut.

The turning lock spoke loudly
enough.

~~~~

A
n ugly tension festered in
the dining hall that evening. Thorn sat across the table from his niece, the
usual arrangement, but tonight there was silence between them. She refused to
look at him, and Thorn had trouble swallowing his laughter at her childishness.
He’d underestimated her. He said she might hate him by the end of the week, but
she’d managed it by the end of the first day.

Jaedren worked the table, refilling
wine goblets and fetching fresh napkins and sending for the next course. He
stared at the diners as if he was trying to bore holes through them, and Thorn
could tell he was trying to hear any thoughts whatever.

“Do you need something?” Rhoslyn
asked him.

The boy shook himself, stopped
staring, and turned red. “Uh, no, Your Grace, I’m sorry.” He hurried off to the
sideboard and busied himself with unnecessary tasks.

Rhoslyn whispered, “Is he able to …
um … already?”

“No, but that doesn’t stop him from
trying.” Thorn cast a quick, remonstrative glance at his niece. She missed it
completely. “Once Jaedren has learned the way of it, I’ll give him the lecture
on an avedra’s code of ethics. You shouldn’t need to worry about a new spy in
your house, Your Grace.”

Rhoslyn smiled in an indulgent
fashion, then picked up knife and fork as her eyes darted toward her daughter. She
refrained from asking Carah how she was faring. The answer was plain.
Displeasure rolled off Carah like a sulfurous cloud from a dragon’s nostrils.

Seated next to her, Eliad
masterfully ignored the situation and laughed at Kelyn’s comment that he was
exactly like his father.

“Why don’t you marry one of them?”
Kelyn asked.

“I admit, neither a blacksmith’s
daughter nor a shepherdess are beneath a king’s bastard,” Eliad said, “but I
love them both.”

“Ach, no, you don’t.”

“Is this appropriate table talk?”
Rhoslyn asked. The duchess tolerated the presence of Eliad’s playthings during
the daylight hours, in informal settings like the garden, but not at the family
supper table.

“Pardons, Your Grace.” Eliad looked
contrite, but the talk resumed just the same. “Besides, I’m rebelling.”

“Against decency?” Kelyn asked.

“Well, not decency exactly. But why
should the requirements that bind my brother bind me? It’s the Black Falcon who
must take a wife, not I.”

Thorn picked up his wine glass,
found it nearly empty. “Does not Lord Drenéleth need heirs as well?”

Eliad grinned. “I plan to live
forever, didn’t you know?”

The nearest wine flask stood on the
far side of Carah’s plate. Thorn gestured for it. For the first time since he’d
tossed her from the library, Carah met his eye. She glanced at the flask and
shrugged in a puzzled way.

Rhoslyn heaved an heated sigh.
“Carah, pass your uncle the wine.”

“He hasn’t asked me, Mother. And
that’s what we have Jaedren for.”

Hearing his name, the squire
hurried toward the table, but Thorn waved him back. He tried again, projecting
his request a little stronger, hoping she’d catch it, but her mind was closed. Grinning
at him, Carah lifted her own glass and sipped.

Very well. His fingers beckoned,
and the flask came to him. Ignoring the gasps from the others, he refilled his
glass and said, “You’re right, Carah. I should’ve asked aloud, because you’re
no longer my pupil. And take note. You can’t keep a promise either. You
have
proven a disappointment. And I won’t waste my time with you.”

She regarded him with the same
surprise as when he’d popped her mouth this afternoon. Her eyes welled. With
desperate dignity she rose from the table, bowed her head toward both ends of
the table, and strode from the dining hall.

As soon as she was gone, all eyes
turned on Thorn. “I thought you said it was vital she learn,” Kelyn said.

“She’ll learn. Some stones are
harder to crack than others. This one happens to be monumental.”

~~~~

O
n that first night, after
she cried herself to exhaustion, she decided her uncle was bluffing. He would
recant in the morning.

She prepared herself carefully,
rehearsed her excuses and her requests concerning his teaching methods, then
after breakfast she hurried down the corridor to the library. The doors were
shut. As she reached for the knob, the locked clicked into place.

For the rest of the week, Carah was
forbidden access to the library. Thorn was hard to track down anywhere else.
She waited in his rooms until late into the night, but exhaustion eventually
drove her to bed. He appeared at supper only occasionally, and Carah refused to
beg in front of her parents. When Thorn released Jaedren to attend to his
squiring duties or studies with Etivva, he and the pearl fisher rode from the
castle grounds on those great black steeds. Patrolling the area, they said. One
afternoon, Carah tried to follow, saddled her golden desert pony all by herself,
but at the gate, Captain Maegeth refused to order the portcullis raised.