Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga) (40 page)

“But I’m twelve. That’s not too
young. You’ll teach me to fight with a sword?” Those large brown eyes harbored
such hope, such eagerness.

Laral looked to Bethyn for
approval. “It’s too late to turn back now,” she muttered, so he nodded.

Andryn cheered and bounced, nearly
overturning the chair. “No more babying me?”

Anything for a little peace and
quiet. “Agreed. But I don’t speak for your mother.”

“Keep me out of this.” Bethyn gave
her son a swat on the rear. “Get to it, soldier.”

Andryn ran for the door. “Just you
wait, Da. They’ll be the muck-freest stables you ever seen.”

“Do as Hal tells you, and rest if
you get tired,” Laral called after him.

“Aw, Da, you promised.”

Holding up his end of the bargain
was going to be harder than Laral expected. “I’ll make it up to you, soon as I
can,” he grumbled.

“Swords?”

He nodded, then groaned and
burrowed deeper into the blanket. His body ached with chills, his children were
growing up, and he was forced to endure both.

~~~~

H
eavy clouds swallowed the
sun for the next two weeks. The Avidan River swelled with rain, flooding the
ford to Ilswythe Village. Tradesmen shipping supplies to Bramoran had to camp
under the castle walls until the river allowed them passage. Da scowled
resentfully at them churning up the mud outside his gate, as if the change in
plans were their fault. And up in the library, Carah felt trapped by throbbing,
aching silence. Rain lashed the skylight and tumbled in rivulets down the windows
while panic roiled in her belly. She was going to fail. That certainty rooted
deeper inside her with every passing day. Da began preparing for the trip,
leaving instructions for the house with Yris and orders for the garrison with
Maegeth. Should Carah prepare as well? Esmi put a regal wardrobe together, only
the finest of Carah’s gowns and silk slippers for the three days at court. It
was work wasted.

“Should I pack my own things?” Esmi
asked, uncertain after all the talk of nightmares and danger and disobeying the
king’s orders.

“Even if by some miracle I get to
go, you’ll stay here,” Carah said. “I’ll have one of the other ladies or their
maids help me with my stays, and I don’t need ringlets or jewels in my hair, I
suppose. I’d rather everyone gossip about the Ilswythe wildchild than the
Ilswythe fool. I’ll wear my hair down and go barefoot and really give them
something to talk about.”
If
she got to go.

Two days remained. The rain let up
enough in the afternoon for Carah to take a stroll in Grandmother’s garden. How
she loved the scents of wet earth and new leaves bursting out on the andyr tree.
The night blossoms unfurled in the gray half-light and filled the cool air with
spicy perfume. The daffodils were spent, their petals little brown flags, and
the lady’s lips budded pink on the arbor. She wove a circlet of the vines in an
attempt to cheer herself but felt even more a fool for wearing it and tossed it
into the fountain.

About the time she decided to go in
and dress for supper, the clouds broke, and the warm sunlight on her face held
her captive a little longer. It glistered on the wet stones and rain-studded
leaves, a brief gift. She climbed the wallwalk up to the western tower in time
to watch the sun ignite the underbellies of the clouds with shifting shades of
gold, fuchsia, and lavender. Staring at that fading fire, Carah broke into
sobs. No hope now. She would miss everything, and why not? She was the worst
avedra ever.

The scuff of boots on the steps
startled her. She straightened, dried her face on her sleeve, cleared her
throat, and turned to find Rhian’s dark head bobbing into view. Carah groaned.
“What do you want now? Aren’t I allowed to be here?”

He paused on the top step, startled
himself, and said, “Oh. Evening, Carah.”

“Don’t lie and tell me you didn’t follow
me up here.”

“Still full of yourself,” he said,
crossing the turret. His robe was the color of dried blood. The gold embroidery
winked with the orange and red of sunset. He wore it unbelted and open over the
studded black jerkin and the riding leathers that fit him like a second skin. They
did little to hide the muscles of his thighs. Swimmer’s thighs. Carah flushed
hot and turned away. “Just making my rounds, is all,” he said. “I get a view
from the river to the mountains up here. Nice sky. You should see the sunrise
over the sea.”

If he tried to make small talk
about the weather, Carah swore she’d kick him. He leaned through the crenels to
inspect the last of the tradesmen bound for Bramoran. Garrs, Lord Helwende
passed through the day before, claiming he wanted to arrive early, so he could
“get a good seat.”

Satisfied that the tradesmen
weren’t ogres in disguise, Rhian added, “No, you’ll go wherever you like, lady.
Sure as hell I’m not coming after you again.”

The words stung her vanity. Quite
the dose of medicine, discovering that not everyone adored her. She cursed
herself for caring what this pearl fisher thought. Still, she knew she ought to
thank him for saving her from the ogres that day by the river. The simple
phrase clogged in her throat. “Have you … have you seen any ogres since?” she
asked without her usual bite.

He shook his head, searching the
hills and the length of Highway as far as the dark hazy smudge of Avidan Wood.
There wasn’t much light left to see by, but Carah supposed he wasn’t searching
with mundane sight anyway. For an instant she thought she glimpsed the ache of
longing in his face as he stared at the Wood, but then it was gone. She decided
it would be a mistake to waste the coin in betting on how he felt at any given
moment. If he felt anything at all.

“I’ll never learn to see them,” she
muttered to herself, watching the stars emerge between the tattered clouds.

Rhian overheard. “The naenion
aren’t pretty to look at.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you
know it.”

He exhaled as if he had no choice
but to dive in with the sharks where he knew he’d get bitten. “You cause
everyone needless worry by insisting you go with us.”

Carah knotted a fist on her hip.
“Thorn isn’t the only person of privilege. The Goddess spoke to me, too, I’ll
have you know. A long time ago I flew with the falcons over Mount Drenéleth,
and a light appeared and told me I had to wake. ‘Go with Kieryn Dathiel,’ she
said. ‘You have work to do.’ I haven’t done a damn thing yet, but something is
waiting to be done at Bramoran.”

Rhian regarded her with sharp interest
while she confessed her childhood visitation, then he turned away. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, nothing! You want me to
fail as much as Uncle Thorn does.”

He rounded on her. “Don’t put words
in my mouth. I never said that. It’s joyful I’ll be when I don’t have to look
after you anymore.”

“I do not need—” She stopped
herself and dropped her face into her fingers. “Oh, I … I’ve been so cruel and
ungracious. I’m sorry.”

The only change in the pearl
fisher’s expression was a fractionally higher eyebrow. Was it surprise?
Skepticism? Cold apathy?

She crossed her arms and grit her
teeth. “Do you have any idea how irritating that is?”

“What?”

“Your face never changes. It’s
unnatural!”

A grin tugged at one corner of his
mouth. Well, at least that was something. “Learn to read my thoughts.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Apology accepted, by the way.”

“What? Oh.” Before he
misinterpreted her regret for unconditional surrender, she said, “I don’t like
being afraid and helpless to do anything about it, all right? I … I guess
that’s why I’ve been nastier than usual, and I don’t give you permission to agree
with me.”

Rhian closed his mouth.

“When I was little,” she went on, “I
was afraid of the dark like everybody else. My fear caused me to resent the
dark, so one night I blew out all my lamps and dared the dark to do its worst.
I remember being so scared and so cold, but when neither ghost nor rágazeth jumped
out to hurt me, I learned the dark was just the same as closing my eyes, and
there’s nothing scary in that. But this is the exact opposite. I can’t open my
eyes to see what
is
coming to get me.”

Had his eyes grown softer? “I’m
impressed,” he admitted. Carah wished he’d stop looking at her like that.
Didn’t he realize the effect those eyes had on people? “Maybe it’s just a
matter of aiming that defiance at the silence.”

Carah turned to gaze out between
the merlons; it was safer to avoid those eyes. She planted her elbows on the
crenel and rested her chin on her fists. “I’ve tried that. I don’t understand.
I could do it once, when I was little. I heard the falcons plain as day. Is it
possible for an avedra to lose the ability?”

“Can you lose the ability to think
or feel, breathe or blink? I don’t know. But pressure doesn’t help, that’s for
sure. Take it from one who had to learn everything on the run. You’ve been
trying to keep pace with a small fry of a kid and added a time limit on top of
that. You just need to relax.”

“It’s too late to relax.” The panic
coiled tight in Carah’s belly. “I have only one day left to learn it all. It’s
impossible.”

Softly Rhian insisted, “Very little
is impossible. And this is easy.”

“
How
then?” Tears put a strangle
hold on her throat. She swallowed them fast, damned if she’d cry in front of
him.

“Take my hand.”

Carah stared at his open fingers,
long and agile, his upturned palm lined with callouses from practicing
swordplay and riding without gloves. “I’d rather not.”

“Do you not trust me, Car?” The
shortening of her name sounded like an endearment—or a dare. “Or are you afraid
to dirty your hand by touching a commoner?” A dare it was, then. So be it. She
slapped her hand down into his.

“Now close your eyes.”

She huffed. He was determined to
make a fool of her with his ridiculous game. “Look, it’s no use—”

“Just do as I say.”

With a sigh, she decided to humor
him. And swore bloody vengeance if he tricked her.

“You have to
feel
as much as
listen. Understand?”

She nodded yes, but that was a lie.
All she could feel was the warmth of his fingers, the strength and command in
his grasp. A delicious wave of dizziness swept through her. That couldn’t be
what he meant. Better concentrate on something else.

“You have a headache here?” His
finger brushed across her forehead.

She shifted away, opened her eyes.

“Relax, will you? I’m not going to
toss you from the tower. Yet.”

Relieved that he’d not been spying
on her thoughts, Carah closed her eyes again. “Yes, a headache over my eyes for
the past four weeks. Just like Jaedren described, but I don’t hear anything.”

“No, that’s a stress headache.
Jaedren’s headache will have started here.” His free hand slid underneath her
heavy hair and squeezed the base of her skull. He might as well have slipped a
hand up her skirt, the touch was so intimate and gentle. Carah gulped, and his
hand slid away again. “The pain should radiate toward the temples, but not come
from there.”

“All this time, I’ve been doing it
wrong?”

“It’s no matter. Forget the past.
Try thinking about this part of your brain.” His fingers touched the base of
her skull again but remained outside her hair. Had he glimpsed her thoughts,
after all?

“Are you concentrating?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat,
breathed, focused. “Yes.”

“Whatever makes us different from
everyone else, it seems to come from here. The voices, the energies, they all
flow through here.” He spoke in a whisper now; his words were a touch of
gossamer on her cheek. “
Concentrate
,” he demanded and clucked his
tongue. He
was
listening! The sweat of embarrassment broke out between
Carah’s shoulder blades. She had to push it away, the embarrassment, the panic,
the keen awareness of Rhian’s nearness. “Go down deeper. Float down and down
until you find the void. It’s a dark place. You’ll see flashes of light. Like
lightning, though very faint. And you can feel them.” Yes, crackling along her
arms, up her spine, in the contact between their hands. “You hear something.”

“Bees,” she muttered groggily, as
if she talked in her sleep.

“Yes, that’s it. This is where you
shape the energies however you wish. Silent Speech comes from here and Veil
Sight.”

Carah floated in a pulsing, humming
emptiness. It was inundating, intoxicating. Familiar. Yes, she had come here
when she reached out and took hold of her mother’s bleeding finger. Here the four
falcons had found her and whisked her away to the snowy spire of Mount
Drenéleth. It was a bad place. A dangerous place. She’d be trapped again.

She heard a whimper echo across the
void, recognized her own voice, and tried to pull her hand free, but Rhian held
her fast. “Don’t fear it. There’s no need. This is what you
are
.”

Yes, if she put aside the fear, the
void was a beautiful, restful, exciting place to be. She remembered having felt
that, too. When the falcons came, she had found it so enchanting that she didn’t
want to leave.

“Whatever happened to you,” Rhian
said, “it closed a gate. We’ve just reopened it, Carah. Do you think you can find
the path again on your own?”

Yes
, she replied, gleeful.

He drew away from her. Her
companion in the empty, humming void vanished. Her hand dropped to her side.
She wanted to beg him to come back, accuse him of leaving her alone, but she
steeled herself. Her fists knotted; indistinctly she felt her nails bite into
her palms. She risked staying for what felt like hours, swimming through the
darkness, darting toward the faint sparks of lightning. The darkness proved to
be illimitable, though somehow contained within the confines of her own skull.
Dichotomy, indeed.

When at last she felt confident in
the dark, she told herself to wake. She remembered that she stood on the western
tower under the stars. The stones were solid beneath her feet, the night wind
chilly and damp on her face. The buzzing surfaced with her. Holding onto it,
she opened her eyes. Dazzling, blinding light struck her full in the face. She
ducked away from it. The sun was long gone, and the moons never shined so
brightly.

The light hurried closer, and she
found Rhian standing inside it. Beams and ripples of light radiated from him
like the rays of dawn bursting over the horizon. “Azeth,” she breathed. Now she
understood.

A smaller light, white and winged,
hovered at his shoulder.

“That’s Zephyr,” Rhian said,
jabbing a thumb at his guardian. He was smiling at last, so broadly that Carah could
actually see that his teeth were nearly straight. She raised a hand and saw her
own lifelight radiating through her skin. The rippling patterns, the colors
hidden inside the brilliance, differed subtly from Rhian’s, and where the two
azethion touched, the rays sparked and twined and danced.