Royal Falcon

by Chris Svartbeck

  “My Prince, I am sorry I couldn’t place any green wood on the pyre.”

  Ioro swallowed, his throat dry. No green wood. That meant little smoke. Apparently, he wasn’t even to be granted the mercy of losing consciousness from the smoke before the flames took him.

  Mokwe was a master in his profession for good reason. He wrapped the last piece of chain around Ioro’s neck before hanging the end on a hook above Ioro’s head. Then, he stepped back and looked at his work, satisfied. Ioro gave him a thankful look. Mokwe had laid the chain so tightly around his neck he could hardly breathe. This way, he couldn’t scream aloud. He would die silently, with honor.

  He heard a falcon screech in the distance. He briefly searched the skies. Yes, there in the distance, he could see a large falcon circling above. A half-hearted smile flitted across his face.

  Jok, my friend, he thought, I would also have liked to fly as a falcon. I am sorry I cannot say farewell to you.

  Then, Mokwe stepped forward with the torch.

  Miomio tried to stop herself from trembling. She balled her hands into fists. Her nails dug painfully into her palms. The torch hissed noisily in her ears. Then, Mokwe stepped up to the pyre. He moved around Ioro, systematically plunging the torch into the kindling every second step. The flames flickered upward immediately. Ioro was quickly surrounded by a wreath of flames. Miomio could taste the bile on her tongue. She felt like the ground beneath her was shaking. She called herself to order. Fainting would show weakness. She had to stay strong. She mustn’t shame Kanata, not today, especially not today.

  Miomio straightened her back and forced herself to focus her gaze on Ioro. The first flames touched him. Ioro jerked and tried to retreat. The chain didn’t allow him to move. Ioro threw his head back and arched his back. But he didn’t scream.

  Thank the Goddess.

  She wouldn’t have been able to bear hearing him scream.

  The crowd was still silent. A cloud of light smoke blew over on a gust of wind and brought with it the terrible stench of burning flesh and scorched hair. Ioro will still trying to tear himself free. A falcon screeched above the market square. Very close and very loud.

  As though on command, everyone looked up. A huge royal falcon dove at the pyre as though trying to attack it. The falcon didn’t even recoil from the flames. Like a ghost, it flew through the smoke and flames, toward Ioro, and alit upon his right shoulder. At the same moment, the prince’s body stopped moving.

  The fire was excruciatingly hot. Ioro was inhaling embers. He felt a flame licking at his left leg. Goddess, it was painful! He threw his head back and wanted to scream, but the chain pressed his throat closed. Ioro threw himself against the chain. All thoughts of dignity and honor had been forgotten. In blind panic, he tried to tear himself free. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears. All he could hear was a familiar, shrill screech. Then, a huge, gray falcon shot toward him through the flames. Ioro lost consciousness.

  Jok had been carefully watching Sawateenatari through his mirror for the past few hours. When Ioro’s execution began, he was alone in the adepts’ tower room. He quickly protected his body with a protection spell and slipped into his falcon via the mirror.

  Why, by the Goddess, couldn’t he help Ioro? Jok grappled with himself and the world as the falcon flew across the land, watching the events at the market square from a distance. If only he could be there with his own body! As a person, armed with a soul mirror, it would have been easy for him to get Ioro out of there. But all he had was a falcon’s body. His human body was trapped behind Master Go’s spell, bound to the house as securely as the chain bound Ioro to the stake. What was he to do? There had to be a way to help Ioro! Jok didn’t have much faith in the gods, but it seemed they were the only ones who could still help him.

  “Goddess!” he screamed in his mind. “Help me save Ioro! Give me inspiration, tell me what I can do for him. Help me and I will never forget my debt to you!”

  The falcon spiraled on the thermals. The sun hit the little mirror. The falcon’s eyes saw the reflected ray hit the ground. The fleck of light covered a large surface area. Much larger than the mirror itself, larger than the whole falcon. The light danced across the ground and stopped briefly at a babbling brook. Wait a minute, was that an idea? Water coming from a small opening; infinite amounts amount of water! The great, distant water his friend Tev had shown him! Yes, that should work.

  With a triumphant screech, Jok steered the falcon toward Ioro. The flames had encircled the young man and were already dancing up his left side. It was high time to act. Fighting its powerful instinctive resistance, Jok sent the bird straight into the flames.

  It was hot. The falcon screeched. Jok landed the bird’s body on Ioro’s right shoulder and dug his talons in deep. No reaction came from Ioro. He already had lost consciousness. Jok quickly activated the mirror. Where was Tev? There! Tev was also flying around as a falcon. He quickly conveyed what he was looking for. Tev understood immediately. An image formed in his friend’s mind. Jok concentrated on the precise location. Tev remained in contact and reinforced the connection. There was the ocean delta! Jok reached for the wet element. It refused; it didn’t want to obey him. Tev intervened. He knew the sea. At his call, which was both respectful and full of love, the sea accepted the mirror’s command. A powerful torrent of water shot from the mirror and hit the pyre. Wave after wave broke against the hole in the rock on the distance coast. With each wave, a new torrent of water poured from the mirror and soaked Ioro first, then the pile of wood. The fire slowly went out, hissing and smoking.

  Jok examined Ioro’s body. The burns were painful, but only covered a small portion of his body on his left leg and hip. Only a thin trace wound up his face. Thank the Goddess, the fire hadn’t had the chance to really take hold of Ioro. His lungs were in worse condition. Heat and smoke had caused a good deal of damage. Jok passed control of the water mirror to Tev and began healing the damage to Ioro’s body. It was a good thing he had learned more about bodily functions and a variety of healing spells since Kai’s death. Finally, he was satisfied. His patch job wasn’t pretty, but Ioro would survive. That was the most important thing, for now. Tev withdrew. The falcon’s mirror was consumed and went out like a candle in the wind when Tev disconnected. Jok was too exhausted to remain in the falcon any longer. He released the bird. The familiar string immediately pulled him back into his own body.

  The falcon realized, indignantly, that it was surrounded by a shouting, gesticulating crowd of people. It tried to fly away. Its scorched feathers wouldn’t carry it. It was just barely able to keep from crashing and staggered around on the ground before the pyre. It stopped, looked up at the grandstand and screeched dissonantly.

  When the falcon dove into the fire, a collective cry went through the crowd. The sacred animal of the Goddess, the symbol of the House of Mehme! The falcon alit on Ioro’s shoulder. The next moment, water was pouring from between its talons, extinguishing the fire. A dirty, steaming puddle quickly formed around the pyre. The onlookers screamed and recoiled.

  One person tripped, fell and scraped his finger. His hand seemed to burn. Instinctively, he sucked on the wound. “It is salt!” he realized, amazed.

  Others followed. Hands touched the surface of the water. Salty water! The call quickly made its way across the entire market. Salty water! The tears of the Goddess! The Goddess had extinguished the fire in which Ioro was to die with Her tears! The Goddess had spoken.

  Ioro was innocent!

  Miomio couldn’t believe her eyes. Water was flowing from the bird, a massive amount of water, and extinguishing the flames. Miomio collapsed. She sank to the floor. Sobbing without restraint, she pressed her hands to her eyes. Ioro was innocent! Ioro would live! She heard Kanata beside her. The king commanded his son be released immediately and his wounds tended. Someone was also to care for the falcon and bring it to the palace. The crowd had reached the point at which joy and wonder could turn to mass hysteria at any moment. Kanat
a’s reaction came just in time.

  “Fetch the priests, quickly! Heralds, to me! We need a distraction, right away!”

  The king’s commands were followed quickly and precisely. Kanata had the heralds announce that, thanks to the Goddess, Ioro’s innocence had been clearly proven. Ioro was alive and he would accept him back into the palace and his family with the highest honors. He ordered the priests to immediately prepare an offering of thanks. Gifts for all the temples, free food for the entire city, a three-day celebration for everyone should put everything in the right light. Cheers arose from the crowd.

  Before Kanata returned to the palace, the first hands were reaching into the pyre to secure a piece of wood as a souvenir.

  Miomio returned to her chambers. She glanced at the small, smoothly-polished bronze disc on her makeup table. Her emotional outburst had smeared the artistic paint on her face. With her years of practice, she took her makeup utensils and began restoring her perfect facade. Finally, her appearance could withstand their critical looks.

  Miomio leaned back. Kanata would see a beautiful woman, just as he liked it. Then, she took Kanata’s letter with a respectful bow, stood up and went out into the adjacent summer garden. There was a small, moss-covered incline next to the lotus pond. She had often made love to Kanata there. Ioro had probably been sired there. Miomio smiled as she sat down on the soft moss.

  It was silent in the garden. Only a lone reed warbler sang its song beside the lotus pond. Miomio could hear the bees quietly buzzing in the flowerbeds. An ant was busy making its way through the moss jungle.

  Miomio was still smiling as she unfurled the cedar-scented parchment. She read her husband’s letter one last time. Kanata’s order was clear. If you see your son burn, I permit you to use my gift. Kanata had not rescinded this order. Miomio had seen Ioro burn. She took out the blue, lapis lazuli dagger from her belt sash and, with a sure hand, drove it through her heart.

  *

  Far from the palace, an old blind man listened to his spy’s report. “Interesting!” was all he said. The spy withdrew with a deep bow. The old man stepped toward the wall and pushed a curtain aside. A large mirror gaped back at him. It showed the plump figure of Sorceress Om, who stepped up to the mirror and raised her hand in greeting. The old man hadn’t move. Then, he spoke.

  “It seems we must change our plans. Kanata is still alive. The shadow seed in Ioro wasn’t strong enough yet. That young idealist still believes in honor and the well-being of Karapak and conducted himself accordingly. He is clearly unsuitable as a candidate for a putsch or as a potential assassin. His rescue also demonstrates that a third faction of sorcerers is involved in our game, a group whose origins I cannot yet determine. As a result, both the king and the prince are still alive and the prince has now earned the favor of his people, if not that of several members of his family.”

  The woman in the mirror smiled wickedly. “All good things come with a dark side. If the prince is so set on honor and the well-being of his realm, we shall leverage exactly those values. Instead of diminishing his loyalty, we should strengthen it, not toward the king; only toward the realm. There are plenty of stories of people who have sown chaos with the best of intentions.”

  Now the blind man was smiling, too. “It is always a pleasure speaking to you. I will restructure the shadow seed. Once Kanata is out of the way, Tolioro will be the last non-magical king. I assume the spell the idiots at the Crystal Chamber cast on him is still working properly?”

  “We are certain of that. No male children, no heirs to the throne, and the way Tolioro is already operating, no potential heirs from his father’s seed are expected to survive. Karapak will have to elect a new royal house in twenty or thirty monsoon seasons at the most. We will keep an eye on Prince Ioro. If your manipulations are successful, he may still be of use to us. If not, we will continue working with Tolioro. But for now, we wait.”

  “We wait,” the blind man agreed.

  A Shocking, Terrifying End

  Tired and drained, Jok returned from the falcon to his own body. Only a moment ago, he had been looking at the crowd of people before him in the Sawateenatari market square. The next moment, the walls of the tower room surrounded him. Sis and Tur were standing a few steps away, looking at him with strange expressions on their faces. An unfamiliar sound filled the tower. Something terrible had happened. Jok tried to move his arm. His robe was heavy and stuck to his body. He realized he was soaking wet. His feet were ankle-deep in water. Water that smelled of salt and the ocean. He looked down. Dirty, gray, foaming water was flowing straight toward the door. A piece of paper danced on the water, around the leg of the chair, then toward the door. He understood. The strange sound was the waterfall splashing down the stairs. Apparently, he hadn’t just conducted the water through the falcon’s mirror, but also through his work mirror in the tower. The falcon’s mirror had melted... Jok raised his hand and looked at the black clump of melted cinder hanging in the mirror frame. Damn! That mirror had been destroyed, too. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He had carefully built up that mirror over the course of three monsoon seasons. A few heartbeats of magic had sufficed to destroy it.

  “Tell me, why are you flooding the tower with saltwater?” Sis blurted out.

  “Yes,” Tur chided, “half the courtyard is soaking wet and you’re lucky the entrance to the arena is sealed!”

  “Never you mind,” Jok responded brusquely, “it’s none of your business.”

  “It is very much my business!” a furious voice boomed from the corridor. Master Go floated into the room, just high enough to keep his yellow robe from touching the water, and took a good look around. His gaze stopped at Jok’s destroyed mirror. “What, by all the demons of the lightless depths, have you done?”

  “‘I have no idea!” Jok admitted, now much more abashed. “I just wanted to release the water through the falcon. I don’t know why it came out here, too.”

  “The falcon?” Master Go’s brow furrowed. “Tur, Sis, out! Now!”

  The two obeyed immediately. Jok heard them sloshing down the stairs.

  “What exactly are you talking about?” Go asked, dangerously calm.

  Jok gulped. He reluctantly began to explain. Master Go let him tell the whole story about the falcon and Ioro from the beginning. When Jok finished, he remained silent for a while. “Interfering in politics! Ha!” he snorted. “The Crystal Chamber will not be pleased!” Then, he asked a few questions about the falcon. Jok realized Master Go had not, in fact, been aware of the secret of falcon flight.

  “But you must have known how to fly the falcon for some time now!” he blurted out. Thealina was able to do it and you turned her into one of your mirrors!”

  “Thealina? Ah, yes, the little Green. No. For some reason, Nao wanted her for his mirror collection. Very smart, that young man. I should have known he had an ulterior motive!”

  He suddenly realized what Gavila had meant. “Nao knows the secret of falcon flight, too.” He felt deeply betrayed. For so many monsoon seasons, he had believed Nao had wanted to help him, or was at least ambivalent toward him, but Nao had only been thinking of his own gain. He had unscrupulously turned the two women who had meant the most to Jok into mirrors to appropriate their knowledge.

  Master Go interrupted Jok’s thoughts, continuing his tirade. “But right now, what you have done here is more important. Uncontrolled, excessive magic, new spells performed by adepts without my supervision; it must come to an end. From now on, you will only do what I tell you; precisely that and not one bit more. We will start with you cleaning up this mess. Tomorrow, you will face Tev in the arena.”

  With those words, Master Go floated out the door.

  Jok stood there, paralyzed. He would face Tev tomorrow? Merciful Goddess, what was he to do?

  Tur stuck his head back through the door. “Well?” he purred disdainfully, “Did the great Jok get in trouble?”

  Jok threw him a dark look. Then, he fetched a small work mirror
from the wall and started drying the room.

  That night, Jok couldn’t sleep. He could only think of Tev. The day they had both feared had finally come. Jok lay in his room and tossed and turned in his bed. He should be sleeping and regenerating his energy. He would need it for the battle. He couldn’t sleep, though. Tev’s face kept appearing in his mind’s eye. Shortly before sunrise, he fell into a restless doze for a few minutes. He instantly became aware of Tev’s thoughts. His friend was standing at his window looking out at the dawn. Tev was saying farewell to the world. He didn’t expect to survive the day. Jok shot up. His heart was racing. No! He couldn’t do it! No matter what that meant for him, he couldn’t and wouldn’t fight Tev. Jok walked to the window, too, opened it wide and did a few breathing exercises until his body was calm and his thoughts were clear. Then, he carefully dressed and went into the tower.

  Marada wiped an unruly strand of hair from her forehead. It was going to be a long day. A terrible day. Tev or Jok; one of the two young men would become a mirror today. She sighed. She felt sorry for them. For future sorcerers, they were very nice. Jok was usually friendly and was so damned attractive, and Tev was just a sweet kid. She couldn’t decide who she wanted to win. She knew who Master Go preferred. Tev was the more talented candidate, but he had too many scruples. Jok was ambitious. That increased Go’s chances of shaping him as he wanted. It was a pity Master Go didn’t want them both as adepts. To make matters worse, the two of them were friends. Go saw friendship as a weakness. Marada didn’t envy the two boys their fate.