The Winged Hunter

by F. T. McKinstry

  “Is that why you came?”

  He shook his head. “I just wanted them to know the truth.” He leaned forward with a gentler air. “Doesn’t this hurt you?”

  Tansel shrugged. “I knew it was wrong. It made no sense. At least now I know why.” She regarded him. “You were brave to confront him. Why didn’t you use magic?”

  He blurted a laugh. “With two Masters standing by? One does not do that. They have dominion.”

  “But you challenged him.”

  “I couldn’t abide what he was doing with you.”

  Tansel got up and turned towards the cottage to hide the blush heating her cheeks. “I’ll make some tea,” she said quickly. “My things should still be in there.”

  He rose and followed her.

  As Tansel approached the cottage, a shadow crossed her heart. She stepped through the tangle of dead tansy on the path and stopped. What had looked like an open door was in fact no door; it lay on the path, the frame was cracked and fragments hung on the hinges at odd angles. The windows were broken. Inside, things lay all over the floor.

  “Something is wrong,” she said as Freil came to her side.

  “It wasn’t this way when you left, I take it.”

  She shook her head.

  He held out his hand. “Stay here.”

  “Be careful!”

  He turned to her with a wizard’s darkness in his eye, and then entered the cottage and moved around inside. She stepped back as he emerged, his hood drawn and his expression closed. “Let’s go.” He took her firmly by the arm. “The crowharrow was here.”

  “But Lorth made him leave,” she said. “He’s gone.”

  “As are the both of you,” said a voice behind her. They spun around, clutching each other with surprise.

  “Lorth!” Tansel gasped.

  Freil dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Beneath his hood, the paleness of his skin looked spectral. “Master.”

  “Get up.”

  Freil rose, but his heart remained on the ground.

  “Are you real?” Tansel said. She glanced around. No Freya, no Eaglin, and she hadn’t heard anything.

  “I am projected, if that’s what you mean.” He leveled a hard gaze on Freil. “What are you doing out here?”

  Tansel blurted, “I begged him to bring me. I didn’t want to go back to Muin.”

  “I did as she asked,” Freil put in.

  “Eaglin asked you to bring her to Muin. Before that, I asked you to stay in Muin and await our return. For that matter, Eaglin asked you to find Gabran and not to journey here; in fact, he was very specific about that. Do our orders mean so little to you?”

  “I feared for Tansel, Master.”

  Tansel looked at her companion sidelong.

  “What you are feeling is not fear,” Lorth said dryly. “If you felt fear, you wouldn’t have deceived the first mate of the Winterscythe, you wouldn’t have put us in the position of representing the Eye on your behalf, and you certainly wouldn’t have defied our orders and then lied to the Lords of Eyrie about it. Now get on your horse and bring Tansel to Muin—before I give you something to fear, and truly. Understood?”

  If Freil could have hung his head any lower, it would have been buried in the earth like a tulip bulb. “Aye, Master.”

  Lorth’s apparition vanished, leaving the evening around them.

  “C’mon,” Freil said. Head still down, he strode for his horse. Tansel hurried to keep up with him. He helped her onto the horse, and followed. Then he swung around and rode into the forest.

  Tansel asked, “What will they do to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She leaned around. “Seriously?”

  “Well, it won’t be fatal. But once your father returns to his ship, that’ll be another thing. He threatened to put a hunter on me.”

  “A hunter?”

  “An assassin. The sorts of hunters known to the men of the Winterscythe could kill even a high wizard under the right circumstances.”

  Tansel’s blood ran cold. “Maybe I could talk to him.”

  Freil twisted around in his saddle. “Do you honestly believe he would listen to you? That would only give him an idea that you’re—interested in me.”

  “What would that matter? Would he care?”

  “About your feelings?” He snorted a laugh. “No. It’ll involve your honor, then. You heard him, earlier. It would be one more insult to him, on my part.”

  Tansel’s breath caught with disbelief. “How can he care about my honor when he didn’t care about my life?”

  “He’s a warrior.”

  With that thorny answer, he shoved his heels into the flanks of his horse, causing the beast to leap forward. Tansel tightened her arms around him and said nothing as they rode like the wind through the forest where the Rose Moon climbed, huge, warm and gold.

  Falistrom

  Eaglin stood in the hallway of the guest quarters of Muin with Gabran at his side looking as if he had just been vomited up by something. It had taken a heavy blast from the Eye to bring the hothead to heel.

  Freil hadn’t returned with Tansel, as Eaglin had requested of him. If he hadn’t been so weak, he would have hunted them down and given Freil a refreshing lesson on the prudence of obeying orders.

  Lorth emerged from his room. “I’m going to kill him,” the hunter muttered, pulling his Raven’s cloak around him as he slammed the door.

  “Did you find them?” Eaglin said.

  “They’ll be here by nightfall.”

  “What were they doing?” Gabran asked in an inappropriately demanding tone.

  “Avoiding you,” Lorth returned.

  “I demand justice,” Gabran announced; “in the name of the Eye.”

  Eaglin raised his brow. “For what?”

  “That fool boy lied to the Aenlisarfon! I had nothing to do with that fire.”

  “That ‘fool boy’ is Order of Osprey and capable of doing quite a bit more damage to you than that, were it not for the Wizard’s Code. As unsavory as a lie is, it’s not technically in violation. If you had nothing to do with it, then you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’ll have wasted an entire month up here for nothing!”

  “Tansel isn’t nothing,” Lorth said.

  No indeed, Eaglin thought, envisioning his strong, beautiful initiate huddling naked in the shadows of a feline lair.

  Gabran growled a laugh. “She wants nothing to do with me.”

  “Why, do you think?” Lorth said with palpable sarcasm. Gabran glowered at him, but kept his place. He had finally figured out that it was not worth rising to anything the wolf-eyed Raptor said to him.

  “It might be mentioned,” Eaglin said, “that you lied to us about coming here to see her. You thought to soften us with that before you spoke to the Ninth Seat. That too is a lie, and a most unattractive one. Freil’s transgressions were somewhat less cruel, I think. If you would have me bring him to ‘justice’, then you too should be called.”

  “By his lie, my ship was seized!” His voice echoed from the walls. “Maerlas will be furious. When he finds out some lusting young wizard was behind it all,” his eyes glittered dangerously, “he’ll go beyond Code.”

  Lorth leveled a gaze on him with a slight tilt to his head that would have caused a serpent’s spine to creep. “What, pray tell, does that mean?”

  Eaglin brushed by the two men and headed for the Waeltower. He knew what it meant, and so did Lorth—but the business of assassins was his problem. Eaglin had other things to do besides listen to him enlighten Gabran on the availability of hunters and the stark unlikelihood that any assassin alive would knowingly cross a First Regard siomothct.

  After a short time, Lorth caught up to him. “Gabran felt suddenly in need of a rest.”

  “Where is Caelfar?”

  “He’s still with Aradia. He brought her to his own chambers and won’t leave her side. He has a constant stream of staff in and out of there. And speaking of
rest, you need some. Where are you going?”

  “I intend to find out what’s going on. I don’t trust Gabran and I want to know who’s holding his leash. If anyone.”

  “Skin of an onion,” Lorth agreed. “Always one more layer to find. Good for him lying isn’t against Code.”

  They walked in silence until they reached the Waeltower. A fading beam of sunlight shone into a corner of the antechamber as they passed through it, their boot steps echoing. Eaglin spoke a word to open the tower door. The force of the command squeezed his weakened solar plexus like a fist. He entered and walked around the glowing light rising from the center of the Eye. His chest throbbed with pain.

  “You don’t look well,” Lorth observed.

  “I’m not. Raven of Utan?”

  Lorth nodded. “Good choice.” The Raven of Utan not only sat on the Aenlisarfon, but also had a penchant for the shadier affairs of warriors and sailors. “You strong enough?”

  Eaglin stepped up to the iomor, cleared his mind with a long breath, and uttered a command. Energy flooded into him like too much water, nearly buckling his knees. He snapped from trance and stepped back. His hands shook. “I think not.”

  Lorth moved into the light and went through the same procedure. After a moment, he spoke a name:

  “Gwion.”

  Several moments passed before a tall figure materialized over the Eye. He wore a Raven’s cloak, a gray tunic beneath, tan leggings and weathered boots. He had deep brown flesh and white, wiry hair braided into a knot on his neck. His large eyes were brown-black and speckled with the sun. “Masters,” he said in a deep voice that felt like mountains. “I am honored.” His smile flashed white against his skin.

  “Gwion,” Eaglin greeted him. Lorth put a fist on his heart and tilted his head forward.

  “Well now,” rumbled the tall wizard. “Son of the Aenmos,” he nodded to Lorth, “and our redoubtable Ninth Seat, no less.” His smile faded as he glanced around the ten-sided tower. “What brings you to summon me to the fair northern realm of Loralin?”

  “The Winterscythe,” Lorth said.

  A shadow crossed Gwion’s face. “Ah, that. We are holding Captain Maerlas in Saltar. First Mate Gabran has gone missing.”

  Lorth broke into laughter.

  “He’s here in Muin,” Eaglin said tiredly.

  “He was ordered to remain in Eyrie,” Gwion informed them. “Can I assume you are not aware of his part in these wicked affairs?”

  “We’re aware of something,” Eaglin said. “We understand the Council has commandeered the Winterscythe.”

  Utan folded his hands together in front of him. “We removed her from Maerlas’ command.”

  Lorth and Eaglin exchanged a worried glance. “Because of what Freil told you?” Eaglin said. “He was acting on his emotions when he implicated Gabran.”

  “Indeed. But I already knew about the fire. That event had its roots in Maerlas’ original transgression.”

  Eaglin let out his breath. Another layer. As Lorth had said, lying may not have been in violation of the Wizard’s Code—but it was now obvious that whatever Gabran and his captain had done at sea certainly was.

  “What part did Gabran play in it?” Lorth asked casually.

  “He murdered two of my warriors—one of them a woman—over a game of twigs. They were crew on the Ashwind. We took her and went after the Winterscythe. When we tried to board, they attacked us. They didn’t know I was aboard. I prevented them from sinking her, fortunately.” He shifted on his feet. “When did Gabran arrive there?”

  “Three days ago,” Eaglin replied. “Our business here concerns a young woman. It’s a sensitive issue. Before we left Eyrie, I asked Freil to track down her father, whom she never knew, and find out who he was. He found Gabran. Freil was greatly angered by the man’s manner; that’s why he made that report to the Council.”

  Gwion nodded. “Well, he wasn’t wrong about it.” He addressed Lorth. “I assumed he had projected to you and told you what transpired here. So we didn’t contact you. It was too trivial a matter to call you back when the Aenmos himself had summoned you hence.”

  Lorth tilted his head forward. “Fair enough. But we only found out about this today. Freil never contacted us because he was under our orders to stay in Eyrie. Furthermore, Gabran followed him up here claiming to desire a reunion with his daughter, when all he sought were my good graces in an attempt to get his ship back.”

  Gwion snorted a laugh. “I daresay. But I hope you’ve not punished young Freil too harshly.”

  “Not yet,” Lorth said.

  “Stay your hand, then. Freil’s report was not the only reason Gabran flew north. What is his daughter’s name?”

  “Tansel,” Eaglin said.

  The sun left Gwion’s eyes. “It’s not a reunion he wants. He told his crew that he would bring her back and give her to them as a whore in return for their silence.”

  The soul of the sioros spread its wings and shadowed Eaglin’s heart.

  “Silence for what?” Lorth said, his voice deadpan.

  “Gabran and his men started the fire on the Winterscythe to justify their attack on the Ashwind. They claimed they had enemies in her ranks and that those enemies had started the fire. They’re an unruly bunch. Evidently, Gabran felt extreme measures were called for to keep them quiet.”

  From a deep well of control, Eaglin said, “How did you learn this?”

  “Two days ago, one of the crew from the Winterscythe got drunk in a tavern and disclosed it. He was overheard by one of my informants.”

  Lorth stepped out of the light. He placed a hand on Eaglin’s shoulder and said, “Get some rest.” He nodded respectfully to Gwion, and then strode from the tower like a wolf vanishing into the night.

  Following an uneasy silence, Gwion said, “When will you return to Eyrie?”

  “Soon.” Eaglin cast a glance over his shoulder towards the door. “Do you want Gabran alive?”

  Gwion blinked. “Will the siomothct kill him?”

  “If he doesn’t, I will. And when Master Caelfar discovers this...”

  “What is his involvement?”

  “He is Tansel’s maternal great grandfather.”

  The dark-skinned wizard nodded thoughtfully. “And Master Lorth?”

  Eaglin shrugged. “He likes looking after her.”

  A smile crept upon Gwion’s lips. “And you?”

  “I took her maidenhead by the Rites of Hawthorn.”

  Gwion stared, then threw back his head and filled the tower chamber with thunderous laughter. “Hah! The mysterious power of women. Beautiful. Just beautiful. I tell you. Alive or dead, however you wish, just bring the bastard to me.”

  “That, we will,” Eaglin promised him.

  “Very good. May the Light of All be with you.”

  “And you, Gwion,” Eaglin said quietly, bowing his head as the tall Raven’s apparition wavered—still laughing—and vanished into the light.

  *

  Twilight held the moon in a velvet embrace as Freil and Tansel rode through the forest towards the Hall of Muin. Though they had ridden from the cottage with the flames of Lorth’s wrath at their backs, it wasn’t long before Freil calmed his pace enough for them to talk. He had placed Tansel in front of him, given her the reins and explained how to guide the horse. In the warmth of the evening, with the Rose Moon rising and the wizard’s arms around her, Tansel had nearly forgotten that they were returning to Muin, and to a great many problems.

  She told Freil about her experience with the crowharrow, unraveling it like a tangled spool of yarn. Her tryst with Eaglin, on the other hand, she kept as private as blood, and if Freil had any sense of it, he didn’t let on. He listened quietly. He told her stories he had learned as a boy about the crowharrow, things her mother and aunt would never have told her. He taught her how to pronounce the word sioros, in the wizard’s tongue, and described what it meant. He also told her what happened when he and Aradia had come upon the crowharrow
in the forest. At this, Tansel said nothing. She would probably never know why her aunt had done such a thing.

  Night had fallen and the moon cast silvery rays into the trees. After a long silence, Freil asked, “Has your great grandfather explained to you about the Muin Waeltower?”

  Tansel shifted positions in the saddle, which had grown uncomfortable. “He began to teach me about the stones in the garden. They are different shapes and sizes, and have crystals in them. The beams from the tower shine on them sometimes. The plants gather thickly around some of them, and avoid others. He said things grow and live by the Old One through patterns?”

  “Identity patterns, the structural awareness of gods. Their essence rises from the Void to know itself. Has he told you about the Sun Key?”

  She craned her face up. “What’s that?”

  “Solsaefil, in Aenspeak. The Hall of Muin is designed to use the Waeltower to direct light into celestial patterns. The stones in your garden are part of this. It marks the seasons, the movement of the stars. Tonight, the light beams from the tower will converge on the south side of the hall into a geometric pattern that corresponds to this time of year, just like the oak tree or the chamomile.”

  Tansel sat up in excitement. “Is this why the halls are so strange, and the light shines into odd places—crystals in the walls, on the floor?”

  “Aye. Every line and point is part of the greater whole.”

  “The patterns that form on the full moons, what do they do?”

  “They form on the quadrants of the year, each solstice and equinox; that is, when the sun is closest to the earth, or farthest away, or when the day and night are equal in length. This year, the summer solstice happens to align with the Rose Moon. This will open a portal to the Old One.”

  “What happens?”

  “A gate is projected onto a physical place. What happens there would depend on what you brought with you. At this time of year, daylight reigns; the light of the sun is at its peak. This corresponds to the maternal aspect of the Old One, she who nurtures, grows, gives birth. Gardens bloom and flourish. So where that energy is within you, you might see something. Or you might not.” He leaned his head down over her shoulder and smiled.