Flight of the Nighthawks

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Flight of the Nighthawks Page 2

by Raymond E. Feist


  “All things change.” The older woman looked around the town.

  “When my family first came here, Stardock Town was still a small place. Now it’s twice the size. The Academy was only half fi nished, now look at it.”

  Ellie nodded as they both stared at the distant island across the lake. “I see it every day, Marie. Just like you do.”

  The massive building dominated the island in the middle of the Great Star Lake rose, rising like a massive dark mountain. The village that rested at the academy’s edge now engulfed the entire north-eastern end of the island. Only those who served in the Academy of Magicians lived there. Stardock Town had grown around the ferry station to the island—at first just a simple trading stop, but now a bustling center for commerce in the region.

  “Well, if Grame Hodover’s anything like his pa, he’ll start yak-kin’ as soon as he has some ale in him.”

  “And Tad and Zane will be throwing punches before anyone can talk sense into them,” fi nished Ellie.

  “So, best sooner than later,” said Marie as she motioned for Ellie 1 1

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  to follow her back into the house. They entered a large, single - roomed building, with room for a hearth, a table, and bedding for three. Once inside she said, “The boys are your best friends, though they don’t realize it right now. Each thinks himself in love with you, but that’s born from competition rather than for any serious reason I can see.”

  Ellie nodded. “I do love them, but like brothers. Besides, even if I wished to marry one of them, Father—”

  “I know. Your father is the wealthiest shipper in Stardock Town and Grame’s pa is the only miller, so it’s a natural match.”

  “I do love Grame,” said Ellie. “At least enough to live with him.”

  “Love is not the simple romance that the tales make it out to be,”

  cautioned Marie. “Tad’s father was a good enough man, but we had our moments. Zane’s pa treated his mother well enough, though he had a sore temper when he drank. Marriage is mostly about taking the good and the bad together, Ellie. Zane’s ma loved her family no matter what trouble they brought, and as she was my best friend, it was natural for me to take Zane in when they died.” She put out her hand and gently gripped Ellie’s arm. “As I would have taken you in, had your pa not survived.”

  Zane’s parents and Ellie’s mother had died during the last troll raid in the region. The bloody attack had cost the lives of dozens of townspeople before the magicians across the water had reacted and driven the monsters away.

  “I know, Marie,” said the girl. “You’ve been like a ma to me for most of my life. I mean, I do remember my ma, at least bits about her, like her voice and the way she’d hum melodies while she cooked and I played on the floor. I remember her holding me.” Ellie’s eyes became distant for a moment, then she looked back at Marie. “But in truth, you’re the only ma I’ve really had.” She laughed. “My pa has certainly never said anything about how to deal with boys, ’cept to stay away from them!”

  Marie smiled and hugged the girl. “And you’ve been the daughter I didn’t have.”

  The two boys returned and Tad’s mother inspected them. “You’ll dry out before the fun starts,” she said. “Now, I want you to promise there’ll be no more fi ghting today.”

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  “All right, Ma,” said Tad.

  “Yes’um,” added Zane.

  “Why don’t the three of you make your way to the square now.

  I’m sure all the other boys and girls are doing the same.”

  “What about you, Ma?” asked Zane, his face betraying his eagerness to be off.

  “I’m waiting for Caleb. He should be here soon.”

  Zane and Ellie said they’d see Marie later and left, but Tad lingered. He seemed to choke on his words, but finally said, “Ma, are you going to wed Caleb?”

  Marie laughed. “What brought that up?”

  “Well, he’s been here three times in the last two months, is all, and you see him a lot.”

  “His father built Stardock, if you remember what I told you.”

  She shook her head. “Are you worried I might or that I won’t?”

  The boy shrugged, his lanky frame suddenly appearing more manlike to his mother. He said, “I don’t know. Caleb’s a good man, I suppose. But it’s just—”

  “He’s not your pa,” she fi nished.

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Tad. “It’s just . . . well, he’s gone so much.”

  With a wry smile, Marie said, “There’s more than one woman who’d count her husband being away a blessing, boy.” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him around. “Now, catch up with the others. I’ll be along soon.”

  Tad ran off after the others, and Marie turned her attention to her small home. Everything was neat and dusted; she might be poor, but she had pride in an orderly house. Keeping it tidy was diffi -

  cult with two boys underfoot, but they usually obeyed her without question.

  Marie then inspected the soup simmering over the hearth and judged it to be ready. Everyone in the town was expected to contribute to the harvest festival, and while her soup was simple fare, it was delicious and welcomed, even by those who contributed far more.

  Glancing at the door, she half expected to see a tall man silhou-etted against the light, and for a brief, bitter moment she realized she 1 3

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  wasn’t sure who it was she wished for more to be the one to fi ll the portal—her late husband, or Caleb. Pushing aside such irrelevant thoughts, she reminded herself that aching for what you couldn’t have was pointless. She was a farmer’s wife, and knew the nature of life: it rarely gave you choices, and to survive you looked forward, not back.

  A short while later, Marie heard someone approach and turned to find Caleb at the door. Wearing half a smile, he said, “Expecting someone?”

  She crossed her arms and gave him an appraising look. Only a few years younger than Marie, Caleb had a clean - shaven chin and a long, unlined face that gave him a youthful look, despite the gray creeping into his shoulder- length brown hair. His eyes were also brown and fixed on her like a hunter’s. He wore well - made but plain -

  cut garb, fi t for a woodsman, a large fl oppy hat of black felt, a dark green wool tunic cut snugly over his broad shoulders, and leather breeches tucked into buckskin boots around his calves. He had a long face, but she thought him handsome, for he carried himself proudly.

  He always spoke calmly and thoughtfully and he wasn’t afraid of silence. But the main reason she was drawn to him was because when he looked at her, she felt that he saw something of value there. Caleb smiled. “I’m late?”

  “As usual,” she answered with a slight smile. Then her expression bloomed as she laughed. “But not too late.” She crossed the room to stand before him. Kissing and hugging him, she said, “The boys left a few minutes ago.”

  He returned the hug, then said, “How much time do we have?”

  Marie looked askance at him and said, “Not enough, if I read your mood correctly.” She tilted her head toward the hearth. “Help me with the kettle.” She moved to the hearth and picked up a long oak pole leaning beside the stonework chimney.

  Caleb unslung his bow, hip quiver, and backpack, and stored them in the corner. As Marie slipped the pole through the iron handle of the large kettle, he took the opposite end.

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  They lifted it from the iron hook which held it above the fl ames and started toward the door. “You first,” he said.

  Once outside, Caleb swung around so they could walk side by side with the kettle between them. “How was your journey?” Marie asked him.

  “Uneventful,” he answered.

  She had learned not to ask about his business or where he had been, for she knew he was working on his father’s behalf. Some claimed that Caleb’s father
had been the Duke of Stardock once, but at present no one claimed dominion over the island or its town on the opposite shore. Patrols from the Kingdom garrison at Shamata would occasionally spend a day or two at the local inn, or Keshian patrols might ride up from the border fortress in Nar Ayab, but neither side claimed the Great Star Lake or the surrounding countryside. This region was under the control of the Academy of Magicians on the island, and no one disputed their authority.

  But Pug was no longer in control of the Academy, and like all those who lived in Stardock Town, Marie was unsure how that had come to pass. Yet his sons—Caleb and his older brother Magnus—were still occasional visitors to the Academy. Whatever the relationship between Pug and the ruling council of the city of magicians, it was an enduring one, no matter what estrangements might have occurred in the past.

  Marie had met Caleb when she was a young girl and he little more than a scruffy woodsboy. They had played together from time to time, but then he had vanished. Some said he had gone to live on an island in the Bitter Sea, while others said he stayed with the elves.

  They had been reunited when Caleb was Tad and Zane’s age, and Marie just four years older. Though her parents disapproved of them spending time together, they said nothing because of who Caleb’s father was.

  But, after the summer during which they had become lovers, he vanished once more. His last words explained that he had to leave on his father’s business, but he promised to return. Marie had waited more than a year before bowing to family pressure. She married young Brendan, a man she eventually came to care for deeply, but 1 5

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  who could never set her heart racing the way Caleb had. Years went by and Caleb didn’t return.

  But whatever the reason for his long absence, Marie had wed, birthed two sons—one who had died as a baby—and lost her husband before Caleb had appeared again, without warning, three years ago at the Midsummer Festival of Banapis.

  Her heart had soared at the sight of him, and while she chided herself for allowing the memories of a silly girl to overwhelm her, she had still sought him out as soon as she knew of his arrival.

  That night she had indulged in far too much wine and dancing, and it had been the most fun she could remember since before her husband’s death. After the boys were sound asleep, she had slept in Caleb’s arms.

  And the next day he was gone once more.

  Since then she had grown used to his ways—appearing without notice and then vanishing. He had made no promises and she had asked for none. Yet they had formed a bond and she was certain that no other woman waited for him. Why she felt so certain she couldn’t say, but she was sure.

  “Staying long?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” she asked.

  “A number of things. I have a message to deliver to the ruling council, and they may take a while to consider their answer. So, a few days, perhaps a week.”

  “Anything you can talk about?”

  He smiled. “Not really. Let’s just say it’s another of my father’s very important missives.”

  “Yet you delay to come to the festival with me?” She wore a knowing smile on her lips.

  “A day will make no difference.” He grinned at her. “Besides, I have my own business here.”

  “Oh, do you now?”

  “Yes,” he laughed. “As you well know.”

  As they approached the town square, several people greeted Marie. “Well,” she whispered after returning their greetings, “we can discuss that business later.”

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  Caleb looked at the unusually large gathering and asked, “More people have arrived?”

  “Some,” she answered. “A shipping concern out of Shamata has put up a building on the edge of the south road, near the old stone bridge. They have three new families and some single men from town working for them. They’re making Ellie’s pa real nervous. I think that’s half of the reason he’s marrying her off to Miller Hodover’s boy, Grame. He wants to make sure that he’s secured the grain - shipment contracts up to Land’s End and Krondor.”

  “As good a reason for a marriage as any, I guess,” said Caleb, “if you ignore love.”

  She glanced at him to see if he was being serious and found that once more she couldn’t quite read his mood. Sometimes Caleb was as easy to read as a child. At other times she had no idea what he was thinking, and disappointingly this was one of those times.

  They carried the kettle over to one of the large wooden tables borrowed from a nearby inn and placed it on the spot indicated by one of the women overseeing the feast. One of the other women looked up. “Marie, Caleb,” she said, smiling a thin welcome.

  “Tessa,” returned Marie.

  The woman, florid - faced with ale - bloom cheeks as if she were a heavy drinker, had a jowly face set in a painful smile. “Brought another kettle of your nice little soup,” she remarked, her tone con-descending. Tessa was the miller’s wife, and soon - to - be mother- in -

  law of Ellie. She was well attired and took Marie’s hand disdainfully, patting it softly, and giving a slight nod. “We understand, dear.” Her tone couldn’t have been more patronizing.

  Caleb’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. He said, “That’s just the start.” He pointed to a fire pit burning at the opposite edge of the square. “We’ve also brought that oxen being roasted.” He winked sidewise at Marie so Tessa couldn’t see.

  “And that wagon,” he added, indicating the wagon that was rolling into view. “It carries two barrels of dwarven ale from Dorgin, as well as six cases of Ravensburg wine.”

  Tessa blinked like a barn owl caught in lantern light. “Really?”

  she said.

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  Caleb said nothing, merely inclining his head with a slight smile.

  The now - flustered miller’s wife muttered something under her breath, gave a pained smile, and hurried off.

  Marie turned to Caleb and said, “Why did you do that?”

  Caleb shrugged. “I remember how she annoyed you at the last Banapis festival. Besides, last year all I contributed was a brace of partridges and some rabbits.”

  “No, I meant why did you say ‘we’ when you were the one who brought the oxen and the wagon?”

  Caleb said, “Well, because I brought them for you.”

  Marie was silent for a moment before a small smile crossed her lips, but her eyes showed no humor. “I thank you for the gesture, Caleb.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said. “Now, shall I fetch bowls and a ladle?”

  “No,” said Marie, her tone neutral. “I’ll return to the house and fetch them myself. You find the boys and make sure that they’re staying out of trouble, will you? I’m worried about them.”

  He nodded, and moved away from the table. Making his way through the quickly gathering crowd, Caleb found himself both amused and surprised at the changes he had seen in the town since his childhood. Though his family had never lived in Stardock Town, they had visited it frequently.

  Caleb’s father’s relationship with the ruling council of the Academy was strained, at best. Caleb had heard Pug complain about them frequently enough to fully understand the reasons behind the estrangement, but they were his father’s reasons, not his own. Magnus, his older brother, was a magician like their parents, but Caleb had been the odd child out—the one who possessed no magical ability at all.

  The rest of his family viewed Stardock through a haze of political strife, but Caleb saw it simply as the place where he used to have fun as a child. In Stardock he had found children like himself—ordinary boys and girls who were concerned with ordinary things like growing up, learning to love, to hate, and to forgive, trying to avoid work 1 8

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  and finding playmates. All the day - in, day - out things that Caleb had never encountered before.
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br />   Caleb had benefited from his unusual upbringing in many ways.

  Much of his childhood had been spent attending tedious classes designed for students with magical ability. Only now could he see the wisdom in this, for unlike most people without ability, he could at least sense the presence of magic. And, as the most powerful enemies facing the Conclave of Shadows were magicians, Caleb counted this ability as a good thing.

  The children of Sorcerer’s Isle, and even those he lived with on the island in the Great Star Lake, were caught up in magic—even their play involved it, often to the annoyance of their teachers. For most of his childhood, Caleb had been a solitary child. While he was a good runner and as adept with a ball as any boy his age, he often stood alone, watching others play the games of illusion in which he could never partake, except as the object of a cruel child’s joke. His possessions often moved away when he reached for them, or items suddenly appeared to trip him up without warning.

  The wounds of childhood were, at times, the deepest. As he grew, Caleb became less isolated from the other children, as their interests shifted from one thing to another. But even when he was at the heart of the mischief, he still felt different.

  There had been only two places where Caleb had felt free and at peace as a child. In his tenth summer, he had been taken to Elvandar, where he lived with the elves for fi ve years.

  Caleb had learned of elven ways, and had been tutored in the sword by the Queen’s consort, Lord Tomas, Warleader of Elvandar, and was taught the use of the bow by Prince Calin and his half brother Prince Calis. Although Caleb lacked the natural skill of Talwin Hawkins with the sword, he excelled as an archer. Both Tomas and Prince Calin had often remarked that Caleb was the equal of a man named Martin Longbow, who they claimed had been the fi nest human archer ever known to the elves.

  Caleb knew the elves were not prone to flattery, so he took the compliment as a mark of his achievement for long, hard hours 1 9

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  of practice. It had taught him that even an impossible goal could be reached if enough effort and sacrifice were made. He also realized ruefully that the elves had never seen Talwin Hawkins shoot; he was undoubtedly Caleb’s equal, if not his better. Though being the second finest human archer was still no mean feat.

 

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