Master of Hawks

by Linda E. Bushyager

  “We should be at Threeforks in less than an hour,” Jaxton informed his superior.

  “Good, I’ll be as glad as the men are to get some rest and a decent meal.” Ramsey paused as he surveyed the moving column and took his place about midway in the line. “Any sign of S’Stratford?” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Jaxton.

  “Not yet, sir. I just checked the road to Swego again. I’m heading my falcons back to the town now. I don’t know, Lord Ramsey, something just doesn’t feel right about this.”

  “Don’t worry about Douglas S’Stratford. If I know him, he probably stopped to loot Swego thoroughly before meeting us. He may keep us waiting in Threeforks for a couple of days before he condescends to arrive.”

  When the pace of the line began to pick up as wagons, horsemen, and foot soldiers fell into position, Jaxton slapped the reins against his horse’s neck and moved into place alongside Ramsey.

  At the head of the line rode Geoff S’Akron, proudly strutting his horse as he led the men, even though the only reason Ramsey had yielded the position was that S’Stratford had not arrived in the town.

  Lord Geoff adjusted his scarlet cape and then pulled the Pendant of Thantos from beneath his shirt. He placed it carefully against the center of his chest so that the amber spellstone with its border of seven leaves would show prominently. Then his lips curled into a broad, self-satisfied smile. They all envy me, even my damn cousin, he thought, certain that his appearance was as impressive as his lead position in the line.

  The sun rose until it hung almost directly overhead, casting golden spears through the forest. Many of the shafts fell on the men as they marched, and soon their skin glistened.

  Ramsey tossed his green cloak back over his shoulders, unconsciously fingering the highly prized fur with respect, as though he had caught it himself. Then he eased his horse toward the edge of the road, where scarce shadows wavered with the breeze.

  The men marched silently, putting all their effort into forward progress, pushing themselves beyond their weariness in anticipation of the town ahead.

  Jaxton again focused his thoughts on his falcons, which flew slowly and rhythmically over the Tompkins Road. They crisscrossed each other near the road’s center, then soared upward and outward over the woods. Jaxton had to exert increasing mental pressure to combat their fatigue. The birds wheeled simultaneously and flew along the road’s edges for a few hundred feet before dipping down over the road to crisscross again and repeat their pattern. Passing over farmlands, they circled close to bright white farmhouses stark and trim against the green.

  Every few minutes Jaxton sent his thoughts probing outward, searching the minds of nearby birds for anything abnormal.

  A flock of crows in a cornfield reared into the sky as the falcons passed overhead. A bluejay among them skimmed the tops of the stalks and disappeared into the trees edging the road.

  Suddenly Jaxton touched something—the same flickering awareness he’d felt two days before but been unable to pinpoint. He probed sharply at the unknown bird-mind, and amidst its simple emotions of hunger and fear, he felt the barrier of a shielded telepath. His mind lashed at the shield, but the other telepath was prepared and disappeared almost before Jaxton was certain of his existence.

  He explored in a wide field, barely maintaining control over his falcons, but could not resume contact with the enemy mind.

  It seemed that another bird-path spied on them or, no matter how unlikely, that the hawk-telepath still lived. The intruder lurked just on the edge of Jaxton’s telepathic range, so he could not be detected easily.

  The falcons flew onward, automatically weaving their pattern over the road, held by a thin thread of contact to Jaxton as he continued to scan for the telepath.

  Then they reached the town. As the birds passed slowly over the buildings, Jaxton concentrated more fully on their perceptions. Threeforks was as peaceful as it had been earlier in the day. The black and silver uniforms of the Empire were clearly visible on the men patrolling the street, and townspeople crowded near market stalls.

  Jaxton spotted Gerard Farber, the sorcerer who’d led the advance party, by his red cloak, but as the female falcon dived closer, the man stepped into a store.

  Some wagons drawn up near the far end of the town sported gaudy signs inviting all to a traveling show. The birds wheeled downward over the brightly dressed women near the wagons. Then they rose, flying behind and above the buildings, passing the tavern, heading toward Ramsey’s troops.

  Thick clouds had begun to move in, turning the sky an ominous gray.

  Jaxton rode closer to Lord Ramsey and reported what he’d seen. When his words began to circulate among the troops, the quiet men became boisterous.

  “I thought these York men would welcome us rather than risk the devastation that Cascar and Westvirn received,” said Ramsey.

  “We’ve almost reached Threeforks,” Jaxton noted as his falcons circled back to the column.

  Lord Ramsey nodded. “You’d better go up front. Tell that idiot S’Akron to keep the men in order when they reach the town. We’ll make the inn our headquarters.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jaxton replied. He galloped ahead and relayed the message to Geoff.

  “I’m in charge here.” Geoff S’Akron glared at his cousin. “Today I’ll give the commands, just remember that. I can keep the men in order without any help from you.” As he spoke they reached the Three Sisters Inn.

  A bell inside the black wooden cupola atop the inn began to peal, and the wagons of the traveling show pulled forward, blocking the street ahead. They showed their “Vicky’s All Girl Revue” signs to best advantage.

  The troops yelled as they saw the women, who in turn waved and called out to them.

  “There are certain advantages in conquering a town,” said Geoff S’Akron, eyeing a dark-haired girl in a low-cut dress. He grinned. “And I don’t intend to miss any of them.”

  Gripping the tip of his scarlet cape he raised his arm in a dramatic gesture and, with a wave of the material, signaled the column forward.

  Jaxton galloped after him, yelling, “Hold on there, Lord Ramsey wants us at the inn!” As he rode, the feeling of wrongness became stronger until his stomach knotted with tension.

  “Go to the inn if you want to,” Geoff S’Akron called, “but we’re going to parade through this town first.” He proudly nodded and waved at the cheering townspeople as he galloped ahead. The horsemen and infantry followed, unfurling black and silver banners as they marched.

  Jaxton wheeled back toward Ramsey. The tall sorcerer shouted at his men and signaled them to keep ranks and enter the tavern’s courtyard. However, most of the column followed Geoff S’Akron down the street, preferring to brave Lord Ramsey’s anger than to miss greeting the pretty young women ahead.

  While the townspeople shouted encouragement, the soldiers moved forward until the head of the column almost reached the wagons.

  Then it seemed to Jaxton with his human and falcon vantage points that everything happened at once.

  Some women jumped onto the wagons and pulled down the canvas covers, revealing armed men. Others drew out concealed weapons and began to attack.

  Townspeople dashed behind the cover of market stalls. Archers appeared in store windows and doors. Arrows hailed onto the startled troops, someone screamed, and another voice suddenly shouted over and over with mounting hysteria:

  “Ambush! Ambush!”

  Jaxton brought his shield up to ward off the falling shafts. Reining back so savagely that the bit drew blood, he stopped his horse’s headlong gallop. He pitched forward; an arrow whistled past his face.

  Jaxton glanced back at the head of the line. The wagons completely blocked the road, boxing in the soldiers. He saw Geoff S’Akron wheel his horse around, force his way past a fallen animal, and start back through the panicked troops.

  But a silver shaft shimmered through the sky and pierced the fleeing man.

  The Pendant of Thantos spun ou
tward at the impact and then fell back against his chest. It blazed like a miniature sun. Geoff had finally found the wit to use its power to shield himself. For a moment a golden haze enveloped man and horse. Arrows clattered against it and slid off as though they’d struck metal. Then the flame wavered and died.

  Geoff slumped forward.

  “N’Omb’s damnation!” Jaxton exclaimed. He realized that his cousin had been mortally wounded. He could not let the Pendant of Thantos fall into York hands, but more than that, he had to save it for himself.

  He prodded his horse ahead recklessly, pushing between two horsemen who headed back up the street. One of the terrified men slammed his sword at Jaxton, but it thudded against his shield. Then the man recognized his superior and pulled his horse away.

  Jaxton spurred his bay, and the animal rammed into a foot soldier and plunged beyond him, sending the man reeling backward into the path of another horse. Then Jaxton reached Geoff S’Akron and grabbed the wounded man’s collar.

  S’Akron coughed and jerked up. “Help me,” he whispered, staring at his cousin. But Jaxton only pulled the Pendant upward.

  “No!” shrieked Geoff, suddenly realizing the other’s intention. He tried to use the Pendant’s power but was too weak and agitated to control it.

  For an instant the men struggled, heedless of and unheeded by the battle around them. Then Jaxton grabbed the arrow with one hand and drove it downward.

  Geoff’s body arched back, and blood spurted from his wound. Jaxton tightened the chain around Geoff’s neck, stifling his cry and choking him. He yanked the Pendant of Thantos off and slipped its chain over his own head. As Jaxton released his hold, Geoff S’Akron toppled from his horse.

  Automatically, as if he’d always worn it, Jaxton directed the powerstone to produce a protective shield around him. Then he wheeled his bay around and, skirting fallen bodies, headed up the street.

  After the initial volley of arrows, the Empire soldiers had managed to overcome their surprise and now fought back, hand to hand. At the end of the street, a knot of horsemen fought to push their way by an overturned wagon to the safety of the woods beyond the town. Painted women in bright, tattered clothes tried to stop them.

  Jaxton drew his sword and swung it downward, slicing repeatedly at the swordsmen who had emerged from the buildings. Ahead loomed Gerard Farber—no, not Farber, Jaxton now realized, but another man, similar in build and coloring, who’d taken the sorcerer’s place, and who, with the rest of the uniformed impostors, had fooled Jaxton into believing that the advance party had taken the town.

  However, this man wore no stone and sent forth no spell, so his sword could not penetrate Jaxton’s golden field. Jaxton raised his blade and cut Farber’s impersonator down like a weed.

  As he hacked his way up the street of death, Jaxton hardly cared whom he hit if that man blocked his way out of the trap.

  While he fought, his mind meshed more tightly with the Pendant’s power, and the glowing stone within the bordering circle of seven leaves became a blinding star upon his chest. Instinctively murmured words taught in childhood and pointed at the buildings. Wherever he pointed the wooden structures burst into flame. Soon screaming archers fled their cover. Some seemed more terrified of the sorcery than the fire.

  Bodies of men and animals clogged the street. Riderless horses, panicked soldiers, charging York swordsmen, and a few knots of Empire troops with sense enough to form back-to-back defensive groupings mingled together and became an almost indistinguishable, inseparable mass as red covered the Empire’s black and silver and York’s blue and gray. Now those around him realized that Jaxton was a sorcerer. Fearing his power, both friend and foe pulled back. His horse pushed ahead and suddenly was clear. He had reached the gap between the buildings and the inn.

  Then the bay reared and spun crazily. It seemed as if the world dropped out from under them. The protective haze around them became an orange mist through which fingers of gray smoke passed, bringing pain without focus or measure to the horse and its rider.

  Realizing it was an enemy sorcerer’s attack, Jaxton used the Pendant of Thantos. As he recited counterspells, his shield solidified into a golden-orange corona that blocked the pain-Because of his inexperience, at first he could only hold the barrier without being able to return fire. He held his horse motionless, concentrating on defense.

  The battle swept around him as running men and galloping horses tried to break the trap at its weakest point.

  Above, two eagles swooped down and set upon the smaller falcons that Jaxton no longer had the strength to control. Without his aid, the falcons were swiftly destroyed.

  Gradually Jaxton grew more accustomed to the power of the Thantos spellstone and managed to maintain the shield while his horse trotted toward the woods. He saw Lord Ramsey and a few horsemen break through the York lines near the inn’s entrance. They headed into the forest.

  Then the enemy sorcerer attacked them. The earth opened in front of the fleeing men, and from the crevice surged a beast of earth and magic towering over the party—a dragon of mud and malice, pouring forth rocks instead of flame. Terrified of the sorcery, most of the soldiers scattered, but Lord Ramsey stood his ground. He twisted in his saddle to face the beast’s master.

  Jaxton followed Ramsey’s gaze back toward the inn.

  Focusing on the Pendant, he sensed Ramsey’s opponent. He had some difficulty adjusting to his newfound abilities, but suddenly he could mentally picture the man. He recognized the enemy sorcerer immediately, although he knew him only by reputation—it was Derek S’Mayler. S’Mayler stood atop the inn’s courtyard wall, pointing his right hand toward Ramsey. Faintly visible violet beams poured from his ring of multicolored spellstones.

  Lord Ramsey retaliated, sending red and black spears of energy against his foe. Occasionally the bolts reached the wall, tearing out small chunks of stone; but most burst against a shimmering force field that protected the building, and exploded in harmless streamers of light.

  A short, brown-haired man stood next to S’Mayler. Without knowing how, Jaxton sensed that this was the hawk-telepath he’d fought. Looking at the man gave Jaxton an unsettled feeling. His skin crawled, as though he’d stepped through a spider’s web. He shrugged off the feeling. It was just, he thought absently, that his enemy was a bird-path like himself.

  Having perceived enough, he released the image and looked around. The great earth-beast menacing Ramsey’s group had dissolved into a dusty cloud that spread and darkened, obscuring the men. Jaxton spurred his horse and rode after them.

  Then one side of the inn rippled as though the stone and timber were liquid-It began to crumble. The earth shook and fissured in reply.

  Jaxton’s horse stumbled and fell, tossing him to the ground. When the land quieted, he ran toward the black cloud. A horse hurtled through it, heading toward him, so he concentrated on the Pendant of

  Thantos and spoke. The terrified animal slowed and came to him, dazed and made docile by the spell.

  Grabbing the reins, Jaxton turned back to the tavern and pointed, murmuring the fire spell again. The flames touched the stable and the cupola on the top of the main building, but before they could reach the inn proper, S’Mayler countered his incantation, turning back the flames so that they engulfed Jaxton, causing him to draw all of the Thantos’s power to block the fire and protect his horse.

  Finally he managed to mount and ride into the black dust, which had thickened into a fog. Dark trunks loomed out of the mist as he entered the woods behind the inn. Iridescent lights flickered in the darkness ahead, indicating the continuing battle between Ramsey and S’Mayler.

  As Jaxton headed in that direction, a freezing wet wind suddenly blew through the trees, coating them with ice. The cold filtered through his shield with numbing intensity. Dust and sleet like leather whips scourged his hands and face.

  Abruptly the ice storm ended and the dust cloud evaporated. The sunlight revealed a spring-green forest entombed in bright
white sheaths. Icicles hung from every bough and twig.

  Ahead stood two ice sculptures that nature could never have carved. Two of Ramsey’s men and their horses, frozen solid in their tracks, sparkled and began to melt.

  Jaxton looked away and prodded his horse around them. When he reached the Tompkins Road, he saw the remnants of Ramsey’s party just ahead. They were still in the center of a whirlwind of sorcery.

  Crevices formed and trees fell to block their way, while insubstantial shadow-soldiers made of spells and mist attacked from the trees with spears of flame. Ramsey rode forward, seemingly oblivious to the destruction around him. His frightened men cowered on their mounts and tried to stay close enough to him to be protected by his sorcery. Although they feared magic, they knew their only chance for escape lay with Ramsey.

  As Jaxton joined the group, the ground ahead surged up like a fountain, and rocks and debris pummeled them. Ramsey’s powers seemed to be weakening, and beads of sweat glistened on his dark forehead. Jaxton gripped the Thantos spellstone in his left hand and used it to spin a web of force that protected them from the hail of stones.

  A few of the soldiers looked at him with terrified awe as they realized that he now controlled the Pendant of Thantos. Others were too numb even to notice.

  The shadow-soldiers became wisps of vapor and disappeared, the hail of dirt and rocks lessened, and the earth ahead of them rippled and quieted. Then the attack stopped altogether—they had traveled beyond S’Mayler’s effective range of a few miles.

  While the men had fought, the clouds from the west had become dark thunderheads. Now they broke, and the rain pelted down on the battle-weary soldiers-Threeforks and the road to Swego were covered by a sea of rain that would last for hours.

  Jaxton could barely make out his companions through the sheets of water. The men were still stunned and frightened, not yet realizing that the sorcery had ended.

  Ahead a man slumped forward. He crumpled from his horse to lie unmoving in the mud.