Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga)

by Ellyn, Court

  He read the letter again and again, and finally decided that it explained little more than Uncle Thorn’s summons. Who had put the population of Mithlan to the sword? Surely not Aralorris. It was just as hard to imagine Valryk’s troops attacking it so soon as it was Fierans.

  Nothing made sense. Be a good soldier and just do as you’re told. But which order was he to follow? Traitors. Traitors everywhere. “Oh, Da, whose side are you on?” If Valryk considered Da a traitor, then taking Windhaven’s regiment to Drenéleth was the worst thing Kethlyn could do. Besides, a king’s order outweighed his father’s, didn’t it? And on the day of Valryk’s coronation, Kethlyn had promised him obedience. He never expected it to be this hard.

  “Is it ill news, Your Grace?” asked Drael.

  Kethlyn’s expression must’ve told all. He smoothed his brow and said, “The preparations to march were only a drill. Go into town and tell Captain Leng that I want a full report on how the regiment handled it, and I want it first thing in the morning.”

  ~~~~

  31

  Andy decided that waiting hurt like someone had tied a rope around his middle and made him wade through oily slime. It was a lot of work going nowhere. He stood in the courtyard of Brengarra with Sedrik and Master Arvold, groaning and squirming and watching the windows. Mum said she and Lesha would be right down, but that was an hour ago. She also said, “Don’t get dirty.” His best doublet was stiff and hot and foppish, and his good shiny boots pinched his toes. They had been perfectly comfortable at the Turning Festival. That he was growing taller pleased him, but only when he was wearing bigger shoes. The dagger felt good on his belt, though. Mum told him he was too inexperienced to wear it, but waiting had made him feel defiant. A short while ago, he had run upstairs and buckled it on his belt. The diamonds glittered like stars he had taken captive. Maybe Mum wouldn’t notice until it was too late to tell him to take it off.

  He had already cut himself on the blade and sharpened it six times over the past couple of days, but wearing Da’s gift didn’t take the edge off his boredom. “C’mon, Sed, we have time for one spar. Maybe even two.”

  Sedrik scowled at him. His eyelashes were fine copper thread. “Now you want to spar? You been moping around for two days, not so much as looking at your practice sword, and now you want to spar?”

  True, Andryn hadn’t cared for much since Da rode away without him, not food, not horses, not swords. Practicing with Sedrik just wasn’t the same. Andy was so sad and listless yesterday that Sed set him to shoveling out the stables. All by himself. Even with half the garrison horses gone, the task had taken him all day. Or maybe it was just that he had lacked enthusiasm.

  “Squires do what they’re told,” Sed reminded him. Again. “And Her Ladyship told us to wait right here.”

  “Well said,” Arvold lauded. Starched and long-practiced in the art of waiting, the steward stood calmly on hand with his ledger and stylus tucked in the crook of his arm. “It won’t do to tear a hole in your knee, m’lord, not on council day.”

  Andy sighed and wilted bonelessly onto the steps of the keep. He lay looking up at the sky. Dark clouds swirled past, and the tor thundered, but the rest of the sky was flat and blue and close enough to grab. “What’s taking them so long?” The assembly bells in town had stopped ringing long ago.

  “It’s the way with women,” Sed said sagely. “Get used to it.”

  “Run up and tell ‘em to hurry.”

  “Are you crazy? That’s a good way to get bit.”

  Mum eventually emerged from the keep. “Hurry, Lesha. The councilmen are waiting. Dry your eyes. We’ll talk about it later.” She shoved a kerchief into Lesha’s hand.

  “But, Mum—” Lesha’s eyes were red and puffy again, and not about Da leaving. The two of them had had a fight about something, and Andy could guess what.

  “You have things outside yourself to concern you today, young lady,” Mum snapped. “Andy, get up! You’re scuffing your heels. Look, your pants are getting filthy.”

  Andy scrambled off the steps and slapped the dust from his rear. “About time.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Get on your horse.”

  Highborns didn’t walk to town, even though the town hall was right out the gate and across the highway. It was a plain but stately building with columns out front and tall stained-glass windows and a steep slate roof. All the town celebrations were held here, but Andy and his family rarely took part in those. Just popped in and popped out, as Mum described it. But once every Thyrran month, the noble family held court in the large, open dance hall and listened to the council’s complaints and plans.

  The proceedings usually bored Andryn to sleep. Cottars fought over sheep or claimed a hedge was growing too far into another’s field or complained about taxes and tolls. Councilmen angled for favor and funds. But not today. This was an emergency meeting. The whole town, it seemed, clustered at the door. People argued and pushed and shoved and craned their necks for a view inside. Many of the people were strangers, drawn from the tent city by the river.

  When Her Ladyship arrived, they parted to let her approach the steps and dipped into bows and curtsies. Andryn waved at the baker’s five kids who he fished with in the deep pools above the ford. Maybe he could sneak away and catch a fish or two. He bound out of the saddle, but Mum grabbed him by the scruff before he escaped into the crowd.

  “Back, back, back,” Sedrik cried, waving his arms, exuberant in his duty to clear an ample path for his lady. The people shouted and pleaded, hoping to have their fears heard, but Andryn understood not a word, and Mum didn’t bother addressing them. She hustled her son and daughter inside. Sedrik and Arvold closed the doors.

  The crowd inside the hall was better mannered. The councilors greeted their lady courteously and showed her to the ornate chair on the dais. The chair was made for Da. It swallowed Mum. She perched delicately on the edge of the cushion while Lesha and Andryn filled plainer chairs to her left. Arvold took his place on her right, his stylus at the ready. A long table below the dais was for the councilors. Townsfolk and their families occupied the rest of the floor.

  Mum raised a hand for quiet and said, “Thank you for responding to the bells. In light of recent events we agreed to meet with the town council a few weeks early. Until these crises are settled, we will continue to meet at least once a week. Everyone will have a chance to be heard. Councilor Aylburn, you may proceed.”

  The presiding spokesman for the council heaved himself out of his chair, the buttons on the front his doublet scraping against the table as he rose. Andryn made a game of counting the man’s chins as he gave his usual dull, windy preamble. Either Aylburn wore a lower collar today or he had grown a new one. “… in our state of sorrow and fear we pray that the Mother-Father returns His Lordship to us safely, and the king with him. As you know, my friends and neighbors, we long for—”

  “Yes, certainly, we long for peace, but may we get to the point?” said a councilor farther along the table. He had large, hard hands for all his velvet finery. Andy recognized him as a member of the smith’s guild. “The smoke, Master Aylburn. The smoke seen in the direction of Haezeldale.” Councilor Aylburn blustered at the interruption, but the rest of the men and women at the table waved for him to relinquish the floor. The smith stood in his place. “My lady, we have all heard the rumors. Might the evil that surrounds Brynduvh have spread farther east? Haezeldale is clearly under attack. Is Brengarra next?”

  “Should we evacuate the town?” cried a woman standing amid the crowded floor.

  Andryn peered around Lesha at his mother. She held her chin high. Her face didn’t change in the slightest. “I sent scouts to Haezeldale.”

  “Have they returned?”

  “I sent them only last night. I don’t expect word from them until this evening at the earliest. As soon as I have answers, I will pass them on to you.”

  “But should we evacuate?” the woman persisted, frantic.

  “And go where
?” Mum asked. “The people of Athmar, Arwythe, and Brynduvh’s outskirts have all come here.”

  “We could go to Gildancove on the coast.”

  “I would advise my people not to trap themselves against the sea. Until we understand this threat, it is perhaps best to stay put. Brengarra’s walls are strong—”

  “And Athmar’s weren’t?”

  Aylburn pounded a gavel. “We’ll have order. Let Her Ladyship finish.”

  Mum dipped her chin toward the councilor in gratitude, then answered, “His Lordship left dependable swords and well-trained militia behind for our defense. If the worst happens, we will close our gates and defend the walls. What else can we do? If you would flee, flee, but if you cannot see the nature of this danger, how do you know you will not blunder into worse?”

  Andryn prided himself on his vivid imagination—he saw himself as a tall, strong knight all the time—but even he had trouble imagining invisible blades cutting people to bits.

  The chandler nudged free of his neighbors and said, “Speaking of outsiders, m’ lady. These militias from other towns, they’re uncouth, they’re unruly, their dangerous. They broke up the tavern last night. And yesterday I … caught them with Eddya, my daughter. Two of them had her cornered behind the shop, and she didn’t look happy about it, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Of course, I do. Was she rescued before they had their way with her?”

  The chandler cleared his throat as if it were growing too tight to talk. “No. Not according to Eddie.”

  “Arvold, take down the names of the men involved. His Lordship will try them on his return.”

  “Will you not have them arrested?” the chandler demanded.

  “If you intend to fill their place in our defenses, yes.”

  The chandler looked stricken and took a step back again.

  “These strangers and refugees are nothing but trouble, Your Ladyship!” said another. “They will eat us out of our winter stores.”

  Andy snorted and leaned toward his sister. “Maybe we should send the militias home and tell these crows to defend themselves with pitchforks.”

  “Shh,” Lesha said.

  Indeed, his whisper was not as quiet as he thought. Bethyn swung around wide-eyed, and Councilor Aylburn coughed out a surprised gasp.

  Andy sank back in his chair, teeth clamped on his lips, face hot as a stone in the sun.

  “Unfortunately,” Mum said, “I think my son has the right of it. If we would be protected, we must endure and make the best of it. Keep your daughters indoors, and keep those doors barred. If things get out of hand, I’ll send Captain Nors and the garrison into town to deal with it.”

  From there, the talks digressed to less interesting matters. The subject of the smoke kept coming up, but Mum had said her piece and discussions about it starting sounding like squeaking wheels. When no one else brought forth a matter Mum agreed to address, Councilor Aylburn dismissed the court.

  “Can I go fishing now, Mum?” Andy asked while the people shuffled from the hall.

  “Not in those clothes. You’ll have to wait.”

  Andy groaned and plopped back down in his chair. “I’ll bet Da isn’t waiting on stupid meetings.”

  “No, he’s likely waiting while his people cross the river,” Mum snapped. “Imagine how impatient he must feel, wondering if the king is alive or dead and unable to find out this very instant. Just sit there while I talk with Master Aylburn, will you? It won’t take long.”

  It felt like it took forever. His toes went numb in the meantime. He squiggled them around, stood up and stomped about, but feeling remained in only half of them. He sank down into Mum’s chair, which was more comfortable than his, and curling up on velvet cushions, he imagined Da cutting his way through a hundred inept Aralorri soldiers to rescue the king. It wasn’t Haldred at his side, but Andy himself. Together they bashed down a thick oaken door, and the White Falcon was so grateful that he awarded Andy with a real sword.

  He woke to his sister’s whine. “Can’t we talk about it now?”

  Mum let out a sound of annoyance. “Dearest, your father is right to question this young man’s motives.” Ha, Andy knew it. They had been fighting about boys. He had half a mind to jump up and run back to the keep before he gagged all over his sister, but Mum had an arm a mile long. She would catch him and make him stay put, so he didn’t bother.

  Most of the councilors had gone. Only a few lingered, whispering like spiders. Arvold stacked papers and jotted down notes. Sed must have received Her Ladyship’s gracious permission to go outside and ready the horses.

  “His only motive is that he likes me,” Lesha insisted.

  Andy put his fingers in his ears. Their voices came through loud and clear anyway.

  “I hope you’re right. You’re beautiful, talented, sweet-natured, and he would be a fool not to like you. But you cannot afford to play the blind innocent, Lesha. A bastard stands no chance of inheritance, and you, as the oldest of House Brengarra, will make a tempting target for greedy men. Even charming greedy men. We must be cautious.”

  “Brengarra will go to Andy, anyway.”

  Yes, yes, that’s why Mum and Da insisted he attend all these painfully dull meetings. Blah, blah, blah. He just wanted to be a knight riding the countryside and fighting sheep thieves. But he was destined to be a peacetime lord, or so Mum said, while Jaedren got to do the fighting. It wasn’t fair.

  Mum lowered her voice. “If it does, where will you be?” Andy’s ears perked. If? What did that mean? Did she want Jaedren to have the holding instead? Jaedren never got sick. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Lesha. Don’t you see? A man who can’t provide a good situation for you is not worthy of you.”

  “That’s nonsense, Mum. We’ll live here, of course. Andy wouldn’t cast us out.”

  “Andy, the little brother you call ‘pansy’ and ‘rat’? Hnh, I’d start kissing some arse if I were you. For starters, go wake him up. Sweetly.”

  Mum and Arvold drifted out the door, discussing the steward’s notes as they went. Lesha climbed the steps to shake Andy’s shoulder, but he sat up and glowered at her.

  She stopped, startled. “How much did you hear?”

  He shrugged glumly and limped down the steps. His toes throbbed.

  Lesha kept pace. “Look, I won’t call you a pansy anymore.”

  Was that her idea of a sincere apology? He never got the chance to ask her. He heard something like a parade of children beating on pots and pans, far away. Screams rather than laughter followed. “A fight!” he shouted and darted outside.

  On the steps, Arvold and Aylburn were pointing toward the ford, and Mum was craning her neck to see. Andy scrambled onto a window ledge for a clearer view. This wasn’t a brawl at all. The militia, camped to each side of the Thunderwater, appeared to be in a panic. A few stabbed pikes at thin air. Most ran in any direction that provided a clear path. The noontime sun shone on sprays of blood. The invisible blades!

  Pandemonium spread fast. It started along the riverside as distant screams, then surged up the streets, a heightening wail of terrified people.

  “Andy! Lesha!” cried Mum, reaching for him. “To the castle. Forget the horses, run! Sedrik!”

  Hundreds of others had the same idea. The streets jammed up fast. People spilled onto the highway, only to crush each other trying to get through the castle gate.

  “Make way for Her Ladyship!” Sed cried, but this time no one heeded him. An oaf of a man with a goat flung across his shoulders barreled past and knocked Lesha to the ground. Sedrik hauled her up again before someone trampled her. Andryn kept an eye on the ford. Corpses lined the highway, clogged the flow of the river. The militiamen were all gone. Dead or fled. The air shimmered above the highway, like a heat wave, and the ugliest giants Andy could imagine walked out of it. One with a face painted as white as a skull charged the crowds of townsfolk, slashing left and right with a double-bladed axe. Screams scored Andy’s ears. Townsfolk tumbled
to the ground in pieces. The highway was slick and red all the way down the hill to the ford.

  A second giant flung a helmet with a human head still in it and struck the painted giant in the back. “Screamface! Hold dis axe!” His voice reminded Andy of the thunder cracking atop Tor Roth.

  The painted giant stood snarling amid the carnage, but lowered his axe. “Dese eats, Lohg.”

  “No! Cap need breakers. Eat dem soldiers.”

  Andy barely made sense of their babble. The people kept pushing toward the gate. He was soon sandwiched between his mother and a stranger that smelled of onions and sweat.

  Clash of fighting came from overhead now. In the towers, on the battlements.

  “They found the tunnels,” Mum said. “Not this way.” She grabbed Andy by the collar and dragged him against the press of the crowd. Lesha and Sedrik clung close. Where was Master Arvold? Behind them, the portcullis rattled and slammed shut. People scattered, screaming, seeking another haven, but the giants were everywhere now, closing in around them. Mum saw an opening and made for it. The air shimmered and a giant appeared in their path. He grabbed Mum and Lesha by the hair and dragged them back toward the crowd. Sedrik snarled, unsheathed his own dagger, and ran after them. With a leap, he planted the blade between the giant’s shoulders.

  The monster grunted, dropped Mum and Lesha, and whirled with a knotted fist. Bones cracked, and Sedrik struck the ground bleeding from his nose and mouth, and didn’t get up again. The giant tried to reach for the blade in his back, tilted sideways, stumbled, and finally collapsed amid the crowd.

  The one called Screamface ran to investigate, scattering people like chickens, and nudged the great corpse with a clawed foot. “Worms!” he bellowed and reared back his axe. One swipe might slay half a dozen people.

  Andy whipped the diamond dagger free and let loose a war cry. Mum dived after him, but he had learned swiftness of foot.