Flight of the Nighthawks

by Raymond E. Feist

  “I’m not going to try, boy,” said Tomas. “You will not set foot in that cave.”

  “That makes it more difficult for me to believe there’s nothing of value in there worth seeing,” he replied.

  “What you choose to believe is of no concern to me,” said Tomas, as he stopped moving and made ready to receive the attack.

  With a fluid motion and a speed that Nakor would not have thought possible, the black - haired youth stepped forward and threw a wicked combination attack that actually caused Tomas to step back.

  Tomas blocked his blows, but they were fast and hard and he couldn’t take his eyes off his opponent.

  Nakor felt around and found a short bush to tie off the horse as 1 2 0

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  he kept his eyes fixed on the combat. The young warrior was more than merely a boy. There was an efficiency of strength and motion in his swordplay that outshone even the greatest swordsmen on Midkemia. And more, the ferocity of his blows was actually forcing Tomas to retreat.

  The ring of steel on steel was as loud as hammer on anvil, and Nakor knew that this was far more than an ordinary youth they faced. As each second passed, the pitch and intensity of the battle increased, and soon the flow of the combat seemed like nothing but a frenzied assault.

  As the youth continued his attack, Nakor suddenly realized what he had been sensing. “Don’t kill him, Tomas. I want to question him!”

  Tomas was now hard - pressed not to try for a kill, but he shouted,

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind, Nakor.” The human - turned - Valheru had greater weapons than the strength of his arms, and he now decided that the contest had gone on long enough.

  Tomas had attempted to tire his opponent out at first, having no desire to harm a young man whose only crime appeared to be recklessness. Yet now he was hard - pressed to keep an advantage, and the youth seemed to be growing stronger with each passing minute.

  Tomas said, “Enough!” He began to disengage his blade when his opponent followed through. Tomas pushed forward with all his strength, sliding his own golden blade along the boy’s steel so that they stood face to face. Suddenly, Tomas reached out with his left hand and seized the man’s right wrist.

  Instantly he felt his own right wrist being seized in return, for it was the only move the youngster could make without being defeated quickly. Tomas was surprised by his strength, as it was far greater than that of any human he had faced. But it was still no match for the strength of a Dragon Lord reborn and Tomas used that strength to force the lad backward.

  Then came the instant that Tomas sought: his opponent was off balance. In a move so swift that Nakor could hardly credit his senses, Tomas pushed, yanked, and twisted his own blade, sending the youth sliding backward on the seat of his trousers across the ground. His sword tumbled through the air to be caught in Tomas’s free hand.

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  The youngster was halfway to his feet before he felt two crossed blades pressed against either side of his neck. “I wouldn’t move,” suggested Nakor.

  Motionless, the young man looked at each blade, knowing that with one quick slice, Tomas could remove his head from his shoulders as easily as slicing a turnip. His eyes darted from the warrior, to Nakor, and back, and he said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Tomas said, “Now, if I let you get up are you going to show some manners?”

  “Assuredly,” agreed the dark - haired youth.

  Nakor came over, and as Tomas stood away, the little man asked,

  “What is your name?”

  The youth, towering over Nakor, looked down and grinned. “I’m Ralan Bek, little man. Who are you?”

  “I am Nakor. I’m a gambler. That is Tomas. He’s a Dragon Lord.”

  Bek looked at Tomas and laughed. “As no man has ever bested me with a sword, I’ll accede to being bested by a legend. A Dragon Lord? I thought you were beings of myth.”

  Tomas raised an eyebrow. “Only a few know about the myths.

  Where have you heard of the Valheru?”

  Bek shrugged. “Here and there. From this tale and that. You know, stories around the campfi re.”

  Nakor said, “I would like to know more about you and your life.”

  Bek laughed again. “I stand here without a weapon, so I’m inclined to tell you anything you wish to know, little man. Shall we have peace?”

  “Peace?” echoed Nakor, looking at Tomas.

  Tomas nodded. He reversed Bek’s sword and handed it to him.

  “Peace.”

  The young man resheathed it and said, “So, there is some treasure in there, then?”

  Nakor shook his head. “Gold and gems, no. But there is something of special interest to us and it would bring nothing but ill to anyone else. It is important, but it is also very dangerous.”

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  “I’ll not dispute him again,” said Bek, indicating Tomas, “just to see if you are lying or not. But what could be more valuable than riches?”

  “Knowledge is always valuable,” said Tomas.

  “And dangerous, I have found,” said Bek. He motioned to his horse. “If you have no objection, I should catch up with my companions. They are an unruly and troublesome bunch without me to tell them what to do. Besides, they’ll have drunk the inn at Dankino half dry by the time I get there.”

  “Actually,” said Nakor, putting his hand on Bek’s arm—a soft gesture, but one that stopped the larger man immediately. “I was wondering if you would care to earn some gold in a more honest fashion than brawling?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Nakor pointed to Tomas and said, “He guards the stuff I need to study. If we had another pair of sharp eyes and keen ears here, Tomas could return home and spend some time with his family.”

  “Dragon Lords have families?” said Bek, a look of surprise on his face.

  Nakor grinned and almost giggled when he said, “Where do you think little Dragon Lords come from?”

  Tomas shook his head, but a warning glance from Nakor kept him silent. He didn’t know the Isalani gambler as well as Pug did, but over the years he had developed a respect for his instincts. If the little man wanted Bek to remain, there had to be a good reason.

  Bek laughed at Nakor’s joke. “What does it pay?”

  “Straight to the point,” said Nakor. “I like that. We’re pretty out of the way here, but as you’ve just demonstrated, sometimes things happen that you don’t anticipate. We’ll pay you handsomely.”

  “How handsomely?”

  “Two gold coins a day, plus food.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as it takes,” responded Nakor.

  Bek lost his smile. “A few coins for a few days’ work guarding a cave from wild dogs and the occasional bandit is one thing, little man.

  But I wouldn’t welcome camping out here for longer than a week or so, even if I was paid three gold coins a day.”

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  “You have somewhere else to be?” asked Tomas.

  Bek threw back his head and laughed. “Not particularly, but I always find it difficult to stay in one place for very long. My father used to hunt me down and beat me when he found me.”

  Nakor’s eyes narrowed at the description. “You left home when you were, what? Thirteen, fourteen?”

  “Thirteen,” said Bek, examining Nakor’s face. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m familiar with the story,” said Nakor. “Would three gold coins a day make you a more patient man?”

  Beck shrugged. “For three, I’ll give you a month, but after that I’ll want to go somewhere with beautiful whores and good ale to spend it!”

  Nakor grinned. “Done.”

  Tomas said, “Nakor, a word if you please,” and directed the little man to join him on the other side of the cave. Softly, Tomas asked,

  “Are
you certain you wish to do this?”

  Nakor’s sunny expression vanished. “Not wish, must. This lad is . . . not ordinary.”

  “I cannot argue with that, Nakor. Of all the mortal swordsmen I have faced, he is easily the most dangerous. There is something su-pernatural about him.”

  “Exactly. His story sounded familiar because it is very similar to my own. I was that boy in a way. I had the same problems staying at home, and my father used to beat me, too. I ran away when I was very young. It’s—it’s all the same!”

  Glancing at the young swordsman, then back at the little gambler, he said, “Not entirely the same.”

  “Granted, I became a card cheat and he became a bandit, but the point is we have much in common. And it’s the same story that Macros told of his youth. It’s too much to be a simple coincidence. I wish to explore that further.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there.”

  “You remember the old saying, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ Tomas?”

  Tomas said, “I remember.”

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  “I think we want this lad to stay very close, indeed. If my instincts are not playing me false and there’s an advantage to be had from this encounter, I’ll fi nd it.”

  “No doubt you will. Now, what do you want me to do?”

  “Go home for a while. I’ll keep an eye on Bek and I’ll keep a watch on the cave until Magnus gets back from Kelewan. I have some ideas about how to control those things in there that I want to discuss with him.”

  Tomas said, “Very well. I am pleased to be returning to my queen so soon.”

  “Do you need an orb?” Nakor asked as he pulled a shiny metal object from his rucksack and offered it to Tomas.

  “Thank you. I could call a dragon to take me, but it does attract notice. And anyway, this is faster,” he said, pressing a button with his thumb before disappearing.

  Nakor turned to Bek and said, “Do you have any food in that saddlebag?”

  “Not really.”

  Nakor approached the young man and drew a round object out of his sack. Tossing it to Bek, who caught it in the air, he said, “Want an orange?”

  Bek smiled. “Love one.” He began to peel it with his thumb.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We wait for some friends. You out here; me in there.” He pointed at the cave mouth.

  “One thing,” said Bek.

  “What?”

  “The three gold coins. It starts today.”

  Nakor shrugged. “Okay, then make yourself useful and get some wood for a fi re.”

  Bek laughed and turned to hunt fi rewood.

  Bek rose slowly in the darkness and moved without making a sound.

  He tiptoed around the fire, picking up a small brand of burning wood as he gave Nakor’s slumbering form a wide berth. He entered 1 2 5

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  the cave and quickly saw there was nothing inside, save the narrow tunnel.

  He entered and quickly found his way to the ledge overhanging the pathway down to the fl oor of the cavern. Even in the fl ickering light he could see the motionless Talnoy standing in their ranks.

  His eyes widened like a child’s as he looked over each black metal warrior in glee. He grinned and whistled softly. “What have we here?”

  Outside the cave, Nakor lay motionless. He had heard Bek enter the cave and knew that the young man would now be looking at the army of Talnoy.

  After a few more minutes, he heard Bek return. Nakor was ready to move the instant he felt threatened, and after having seen Bek battle Tomas, he knew there might only be a moment for him to employ his most deadly “tricks” to protect himself.

  But Ralan Bek simply lay down on the other side of the campfi re and quickly fell sound asleep. Nakor continued to lie motionless, but he was still awake when the sun rose the next morning.

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  EIGHT

  H o m e c o m i n g

  The road stretched to the horizon.

  Once again, Tad and Zane rode in a cart, as they had almost half a year before. This time, however, they were approaching the village of Stardock.

  Reaching Shamata, Caleb and the boys had found a shipment of goods that were being sent along the shore of the Sea of Dreams down to the Great Star Lake and the Academy. Caleb had volunteered to take the shipment and arrange for someone to return the wagon to the trading concern when they arrived. As the company was owned by his father, Caleb encountered no objection.

  He had told the boys that they would pass through Stardock on their way south, but that they would only stay for one night. Tad rode next to Caleb on the driver’s Raymond E. Feist

  seat, while Zane sat in the back, behind the cargo, with his feet hanging over the back of the wagon.

  It was late afternoon by the time they reached the outer boundary of Stardock Town. The first of its buildings heaved into sight along the shore of the lake to their left. They had been passing farms for a day now, so they had guessed that they would reach the trading warehouse before sundown.

  As they rolled into the outskirts of the township, Tad and Zane waved to a few familiar faces, most of whom stared back vacantly before they recognized the boys. Tad said, “People are looking at us strangely, Caleb.”

  “You’ve changed, Tad,” answered the tall hunter, now dressed like a driver. The boys wore the same old tunics and trousers they had worn when they left the town half a year before. Both complained frequently that the clothes were too tight, so Caleb had promised to buy them new garments when they reached Kesh.

  The boys were off the wagon before it came to a complete halt, and as they started to move away, Caleb halted them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To see Mother,” answered Tad.

  “Not until you’ve unloaded,” he said, hiking his thumb at the cargo.

  “Grooms and his boys will unload,” said Zane.

  “Not this lot,” said Caleb. “I want you to take the wagon over there”—he pointed to an empty cargo pallet at the edge of the stabling yard—“and unload everything onto that.”

  Both boys knew that meant the cargo was destined for the island.

  They also remembered loading the wagon, and Tad asked, “Can we get some help, at least?”

  Caleb nodded. “Tell Grooms I’ll settle with him later.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Tad, as Caleb started to walk away.

  Turning to walk backward, he said, “To see your mother. I’ll tell her you’ll be along shortly.”

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  to the indicated area, while Zane sought out Grooms—the manager of the shipping warehouse—to secure some help in the unloading.

  Caleb hurried to Marie’s house and found her in the back, tending her garden. Seeing Caleb, she sprang to her feet and embraced him. “I have missed you,” she said between two passionate kisses. “It has been so lonely here since you took the boys away.” She hugged him tightly for a moment, then said, “You said you’d have the boys write,” she said with a slightly accusatory tone.

  “I did,” he answered, pulling a folded sheet of parchment from out of his tunic. With a grin he said, “But I thought I’d bring it myself rather than send it by courier.”

  She kissed him and said, “Come inside and have some tea and tell me what you did with them.”

  He followed her inside and saw that she had a kettle simmering next to the fire. “I find I do little cooking now that it’s just me. I bake just one loaf of bread a week instead of three or four.” She poured tea and said, “What of the boys?”

  “They are well,” he said. “Much has changed in the six months since we left.”

  She sat after she had served them at the tiny table that still managed to occupy nearly a third of the room. “Tell me.”

  “Things didn’t turn out qui
te as I had wished,” he said. “The apprenticing I had hoped for . . .”

  “At least tell me that you’ve found them honest labor, Caleb.

  They could become layabouts and wastrels here as easily as anywhere else.”

  He smiled. “Nothing like that.” Then he sighed. “Currently, they are working as wagoneer’s lads.”

  “Teamsters?” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “That’s strange, neither of them cared much for horses and mules.”

  “They still don’t, but it’s necessary,” said Caleb. He smiled broadly. “They’re over at the warehouse unloading a wagon with some of Grooms’s lads. They should be here soon.”

  “You wicked man!” Marie cried, hitting him on the arm. “Why did you wait to tell me?”

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  “Because I wanted a few minutes alone with you, and once the boys are here I won’t be spared more than a few seconds of your time.”

  She kissed him. “They are old enough to understand that their mother needs more than to cook and sew for—”

  Her words halted as Tad came in through the door with Zane behind him. When they’d left they had been boys, but in less than half a year, Marie hardly recognized her sons. Both were sunburned, their shoulders had broadened, and their faces had lost whatever echoes of childhood she remembered. Their cheeks were hollow, and the baby fat had been replaced by stubble along their jaws. Below the short sleeves of their tunics, their arms were muscled and their hands hard with calluses.

  Marie stood and both boys rushed to embrace her. “I thought I might never see you two again,” she said, her eyes glowing with moisture. She hugged them tightly, then stepped back. “You’ve . . .

  changed. Both of you.”

  “Hard work, Mama,” said Tad. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life.”

  “What have you been doing?” she asked.

  The boys exchanged a quick glance with Caleb, then Tad said, “Stone work, mostly. A lot of wall - building. Some hunting and fi shing.”

  “A lot of wagon - driving, too, and loading and unloading,” said Zane. “And I learned how to swim!”