Scion Rising

by R. Michael Card

  Oh, that. You should be careful about that.

  What? Dreaming?

  No, getting too deep. I didn’t think you had acquired that much ability from me, but if you have, you need to be wary of playing with others’ thoughts.

  Playing with others’ thoughts?

  Well in this case, you weren’t in control, but you did join with him. It was his dream, but you were deep in his thoughts. That’s a dangerous place. If you lose control, you can get lost, and if you take too much control, you can drive a person mad.

  None of that makes any sense. It had been her dream, had it not? Yet the bow had said, “it was his dream.” But “him” who? Tirol? She’d been in his dream? No. How could that happen?

  She gave a soft laugh at the thought. If it had been his dream, he sure knew how to handle a woman. She felt another shudder of pleasure at the remembrance. No, it must have been just a normal dream. Any alternative was simply absurd.

  Wyllea felt Eaglewing’s frustration. It wouldn’t be absurd if we were bonded. There is so much you could do!

  Ah, well, if I have my way, we’ll stay not bonded.

  Why?

  That’s a big obligation you’re talking about. I’d rather stay free and in control of my own destiny, thanks.

  We shall see Wyllea. We shall see.

  Chapter 8

  Tirol’s emotions wouldn’t settle. They heaved and tossed and frothed within him. His dream from the previous night was driving him mad with frustration. On the one hand, it had been an amazing moment — even if it had been a dream — and he didn’t want to let it go. On the other hand, it hadn’t been real, only the sad imaginings of a man lost in a boyish infatuation. Wyllea didn’t want him like that.

  Did she?

  She certainly had never given him any sign or said anything to that end. If she’d lost her modesty living around rough men, then she’d probably had those rough men in her bed at some point. He was sure that’s what she wanted, a man who could take control, and that wasn’t him. He wasn’t rough and strong and sure. He was subtle and quiet and cunning. So she’d remain only a dream to him. A thought which burned with disappointment and resentment. The joy of the dream had now long faded, overcome by aggravation that it would never be more than a delusion and anger at himself for being this out of sorts for a woman. Add to that his new uncertainty about where they were heading and why, and he was feeling more than a little testy this morning.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” he asked, again.

  “North.” Which had been her reply every time.

  Gods, but this woman was infuriating! He’d never known a woman who could drive him crazy with desire and with distress at the same time.

  “And you won’t say why? The front lines are west. The only thing north are the mountains.”

  “Trust me.”

  He was wearing a little thin on trust at the moment.

  He gritted his teeth and followed.

  He should just walk away. It wasn’t the first time he’d considered it that day. The problem was he couldn’t. The mere possibility that she might like him, might in some distant future be the woman from his dream and share the passion he now knew he felt for her, that ever-so-slight chance kept him with her. His self-preservation was telling him it was foolish to think she might change, might want to be with him, but he was ignoring it. His father had left the people he cared for, but Tirol would not do the same.

  So he grumbled to himself and plodded along… north.

  They were climbing into higher and higher foothills, and just before midday Wyllea stopped.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “People ahead.”

  Tirol looked around. They were on the upslope of a hill, and the only thing he saw ahead was the top of that hill covered in long grasses. “Where?”

  “The next valley.” After a moment, she awkwardly added, “I hear them.”

  Tirol strained his hearing. He’d always had good ears, trained from years of working in darkness, pilfering the rich in Vohrial. He heard nothing.

  “I…”

  She cut him off with a “shush” and began creeping toward the top of the hill. He followed in a similar manner.

  At the peak of the hill, they peered down into what looked like an abandoned camp. There was a small forest filling the valley to their east. A stream emerged from the forest and cut along the valley floor, disappearing around a bend to the west. Next to the stream, three recently doused fires still smoked.

  “I think your ears are playing tricks on you,” Tirol said, looking for anyone in the valley and seeing no movement.

  “No, there are people. They’re close, getting closer still. I don’t know how they know we’re here, but…”

  “How do you know any of this?”

  “I… can’t explain. Not now. Someone’s coming.”

  Tirol listened again. He heard nothing but the grasses sighing in the wind.

  “Stand and show yourselves!” came a command from off to their right.

  Wyllea swore. She whispered, “Act like a soldier. You’re dressed for the part.” Then she stood slowly.

  This was all wrong. None of this made any sense. He rose to see a man clad in black standing less than thirty feet away. Suddenly Tirol understood how the man had gotten so close without a sound. He was an assassin. A man gifted by The Blacklord with special powers of strength and speed and more. His attire gave him away, the loose black clothing with a wrap around his head so only his eyes showed.

  This was not good. Tirol put the pieces together quickly: an empty camp, people all around but unseen — though how Wyllea had heard them he had no clue — and an assassin standing before him. It came together to tell him that at least fifteen assassins, if he guessed correctly from the size of the camp below, were hidden around them. So very, very not good.

  “Are you deserters?” the man demanded. “The front lines are far to the west.”

  “My companion and I fell ill as our troop marched to the front. We rested in a village for several days then followed as best we could. Though I fear we may be a little lost in these hills.” Wyllea’s lie sure sounded convincing.

  The man glared.

  “That bow is not standard issue. Let me see it.” He began striding toward them.

  He died with an arrow in his neck before he’d taken three paces. Wyllea’s shot had been so fast even the assassin with his preternatural awareness and speed seemed surprised as he died.

  So much for talking their way out of this.

  Then there were men all around them, charging in with unimaginable speed, and Tirol had no more time to think about anything but staying alive. He managed to draw his sword before the first man reached him, but even as his blade met the other man’s, he knew with a certainty that he was no match for such a warrior.

  He was a dead man.

  Chapter 9

  Wyllea had seen The Blacklord’s assassins fight before, but she had never faced one herself, let alone twenty of them. She’d always been fast with her bow, faster than any other archer she knew. She drew three arrows from her quiver and fired them in quick succession, taking down three more men, but still she wasn’t fast enough. More men would reach her before she could draw and fire again.

  She could see Tirol with his blade out, but his fight was going poorly. He was nowhere near fast enough to face such a foe.

  Bond with me, now!

  This is not the time.

  Yes, it is. You’ll be faster, stronger, like nothing you have ever known. Bond with me. It’s the only way you and he can survive this.

  I… She couldn’t see any way to win this fight. The enemy was fast, strong, tough, and there were simply too many of them… what do I need to do?

  Just give me permission. Let down your guard. I’ll do the rest.

  Wyllea wasn’t sure how to do that, but she did her best. Despite the heat of battle and the men who were mere seconds away from reaching her, she let herself relax,
tried to open her mind and body, and hoped to Reisha that she wasn’t actually crazy and about to die without a fight.

  No, you won’t.

  The voice filled her louder than ever before as she felt a great force swell inside her. Eaglewing had been right. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She felt her muscles tense and swell, her energy increased a hundredfold. All her senses sharpened, and yet with all the sensations at once she was not overwhelmed. Eaglewing was no longer just a voice in her mind but a full presence, a being that shared her existence. She could feel Eaglewing’s elation at the bonding, but the feeling was short-lived, for precious moments were slipping away and she needed to act.

  Now it was her own speed that alarmed her. Wyllea was no longer in control. Eaglewing was, and she moved as lightning yet somehow still smooth and easy as a leaping dear.

  Another three arrows were out and fired before Wyllea even registered the movement, one of them taking down the man attacking Tirol.

  Wyllea leapt and spun like some leaf caught on the wind, spiraling into the air to impossible heights, arrows peppering the black-clad men around her. One threw a knife at her, and it was easily knocked aside by Eaglewing.

  She landed lightly, blocking a sword with her bow while simultaneously firing an arrow at that attacker, sending him staggering back with an arrow buried in his belly.

  A knife pierced her leg, and at the same time, she saw Tirol tackled by one of the few remaining attackers.

  I am sorry, Wyllea, but I need more!

  And with that, her entire existence blurred, shifted, collapsed. She could no longer keep track of the fight, the pain, or anything else as the overpowering presence of Eaglewing dominated her. Slowly everything faded to black, and she knew no more.

  She woke slowly.

  Someone was calling her name. What was her name again?

  “Wyllea!”

  No, her name was Eaglewing. Wasn’t it? Everything was hazy.

  “Wyllea, please!” She was being shaken.

  Eyes fluttered open… her eyes? Yes, but who was she…?

  “Oh, thank all the gods. I thought I’d lost you.” Tirol was above her, looking down. He looked like crap, his face bruised and bloody, with a nasty gash above his right eye and his hair matted with sweat and blood.

  “You don’t look so good,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and rough. “I don’t sound so good.”

  He smiled, then suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

  Ick. This from the part of her that was now Eaglewing.

  Yet the part of her that was still Wyllea felt the intensity, the passion, the dire need of the moment, and responded, pressing back, opening her lips to him in a long, lingering kiss. She reached up and grabbed the back of his head to press him closer, but he groaned, wincing, and jerked away.

  He sat back, rubbing his head. His eyes seemed a little glassy, and his words were slurred when he said, “Perhaps now isn’t the best time.” Then his eyes rolled up and he fell over next to her.

  She sat up slowly. She who? She was Eaglewing… no, Wyllea. Why was this so difficult? A person should really know who they are, shouldn’t they?

  I’m sorry, Wyllea. I didn’t mean to do that. Well, that’s not true. I did mean to do it. I had to in order to win the fight, but, well, I’m sorry I had to do that. This voice was a part of her now as was any limb or organ, ingrained, meshed with her own soul.

  Eaglewing? Yes, that is what that part of her was called, her bow but now so much more. So this is what it meant to be “bonded.”

  Well, yes, sort of. You have to understand I really didn’t know how this would work. You aren’t a scion, not a Guardian, but I’ve been with your bloodline for so long now I had thought, had hoped, we would be able to bond and I would have a Guardian once more.

  Now Wyllea knew what Eaglewing knew. Guardians of Aehryn and scions, these she understood. Even this talk of Eaglewing being with her bloodline for so long. Everything made sense because she shared one mind with her bow. She had an innate understanding of how this worked.

  Eaglewing had had a Guardian long ago, but that bloodline had died off. Yet Eaglewing was an exceptional bow and had been found by Wyllea’s great-great-great-grandfather long ago and had stayed with her family since then. It seemed that because Eaglewing had been with only one bloodline for so long that now she’d been able to finally bond with one of that bloodline as she had been bonded, long ago, to her Guardian. Though how this was possible Eaglewing didn’t know, and learning more could wait for now.

  Wyllea looked over to Tirol, unconscious but still breathing, next to her. She didn’t need to ask if Eaglewing could heal him. She already knew she couldn’t. Healing was not among her powers.

  So is there anything we can do for him?

  Perhaps. I can soothe his pain, at least. And you know how to dress a wound. We should be able to patch him up together.

  Patch us up too. We took a few hits.

  Yes, I know. I can feel your pain. We should dress our leg first. That’s the most serious. The rest can wait.

  They patched up wounds as best they could. Wyllea’s leg had a nasty gash, and she’d lost a lot of blood, but once it was sewn shut and bandaged, it was manageable — painful, but manageable. Eaglewing had powers over the mind and helped her cope with pain.

  Next, they tended to Tirol, bandaging his head and tending to the myriad wounds he’d taken. He was lucky to be alive. A survivor for sure, even if he wasn’t much good in a fight.

  Once he was tended, she wrapped the remainder of her own wounds, all light, then set about searching the bodies of the assassins for anything useful.

  Other than weapons, some poisons, and a bit of gold, there wasn’t much until she came to the first one she had taken down, probably their leader. He had several pouches filled with various herbs and vials.

  Eaglewing had some knowledge of herb lore, and Wyllea unstoppered each vial, sniffing carefully to see if Eaglewing would identify it.

  Oh! Eaglewing seemed excited at one in particular. That one. I know that. It smells of water-based magic. I’d be willing to guess it’s a healing potion, very rare, but potent. Try it.

  Are you sure?

  Would I put you in danger? I know it well enough. Drink it, but not all, just a sip.

  If you say so.

  Wyllea tipped the vial to her lips and drank a small portion.

  Instantly she was filled with a great sense of warmth and strength. Her aches and pains disappeared, even the pain of her leg, which Eaglewing was suppressing, seemed to vanish.

  Curious, Wyllea stoppered the vial, then checked her wound. It was closed and no longer weeping, her stitches expelled from the newly reformed flesh.

  “That’s impressive.”

  See. I told you.

  Can someone who isn’t conscious drink it?

  No. But once Tirol wakes, we can give him some. He’ll need more, maybe half what’s left. Quite useful.

  I’ll say.

  Wyllea finished her scrounging then made a quick camp, assembling a fire and having some of her food. She was famished. Apparently, bonding, fighting off a score of magically enhanced assassins, then healing yourself took a lot out of you.

  When Tirol woke near dusk, she gave him some of the healing potion, and he instantly perked up.

  “What is that?”

  “Healing potion.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Off one of the Assassins. I didn’t think he’d need it anymore.”

  Tirol gave a short laugh. After a moment of checking his wounds and discarding blood-soaked bandages which were no longer needed, he sat next to her by the fire.

  “I really didn’t think we were going to win that. I’m still not sure how we did, though I seem to recall you spinning into the air, shooting arrows so fast a dozen men dropped. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure I can fully explain it myself. But I now know my bow is, well, quite magical and powerful.”


  “Your bow?”

  “Her name is Eaglewing.”

  “Your bow has a name?” The incredulity was clear on his face even in the dying light of day.

  Wyllea grimaced. “I told you it was hard to explain.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m just happy to be alive.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Yes, I know. You were quite… passionate about that fact when you woke me.”

  “You remember that?”

  “I do.”

  “And…” He drew a breath, hesitant. “How did you feel about it?”

  She was about to say that she felt a certain intensity to the moment as well, but Eaglewing interrupted.

  Senia is close. They’ve stopped for the night not far from here. If we leave now, we can get to them by midnight.

  Understood.

  She couldn’t remember what she had been about to say to Tirol and shrugged it off. “We need to leave.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Remember that whole ‘magical bow’ thing? Well, it also has a mind of its own, and right now it’s sensing someone in distress. We need to help. I’m sorry to drag you along on this, but Eaglewing is… very persuasive. I’m going. Are you coming?”

  He nodded. “Of course, I would… that is, yes.”

  They gathered up their things and left, heading north and west as Eaglewing directed.

  Chapter 10

  Tirol was more confused than ever.

  He’d asked a direct question, and she’d evaded it. It was fairly obvious now she didn’t feel as he did. He’d thought in that last moment of the kiss, when she had reached to press him closer, that she’d wanted him. Perhaps she’d just been caught up in the moment. And that was before he’d pulled away and fainted. How very manly of him. Could a warrior like her be with a man like him? He didn’t know, and it seemed she wasn’t going to tell him.

  Instead, they were off on some strange quest to save… someone?

  He flirted with the thought that perhaps she wasn’t all there. Her mind was going. But then… she’d defeated a host of assassins pretty much on her own. He hadn’t killed even one. To do that, with the power the assassins possessed, must have taken some powerful magic on her part. So perhaps…