Shadow of the Hawk (Book 3)

by Curtis Jobling

  The Banshee was still in Kaza under armed guard. Regardless of the fact that Drew’s company had brought the king’s daughter safely home, the Omiri took no chances. Drew wanted to be away as soon as possible, but realized that he wouldn’t be able to leave now. Not while an army gathered in the north.

  Tents of all sizes dotted the desert several miles from Azra, the amassed force as huge as any Drew had seen. Siege engines intermittently towered into the sky, their definition wavering in the intense heat haze. He counted at least thirty of the machines, the sole purpose of each to break down Azra’s fabled walls. Drew looked down at the city’s defences once more. Faisal’s force was overwhelmingly outnumbered, the wall just about evening up the contest. One wall to stop this mighty army.

  ‘Impressive, no?’ said King Faisal as he joined Drew at the balcony.

  ‘The walls? Or the army on your doorstep?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘How long have they been there?’

  ‘They began to gather a week ago. More arrive each day, so our scouts report. Who knows how many more shall arrive or when they intend to attack?’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘It’s Lord Canan, and the Doglords. For ten years he’s waged war in Omir, each year taking more of the desert from me. While fighting has intensified recently, he’s never dared an assault upon Azra before. I wonder what now makes him so brazen …’

  Faisal turned and walked back through his throne room. Drew followed, the yellow cloaked warriors of the palace guard shadowing him all the while. He wore no manacles, but he was their prisoner nonetheless. Does Faisal know about the Dogs’ alliance with the Cats? Has he heard the rumour of Hayfa joining forces with Canan? Drew had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Three armies against Azra? This city will fall …

  After yesterday’s drama, the king was a changed man. Drew and his companions might have been captives, but that didn’t stop Faisal from extending every courtesy to them. The three had been taken to separate quarters under armed guard, where they could bathe, dine and sleep. Drew’s body cried out for rest and the time to allow his injuries to heal properly, but they needed to be moving again, and swiftly. It was mid-morning when they finally returned to Faisal’s throne room. Shah now stood with Djogo, the two talking quietly while courtiers eyed them suspiciously.

  ‘How’s your daughter this morning?’ asked Drew, as Faisal went to sit on his throne. A slave knelt at his feet with a tray of olives and grapes at the ready, raising them up instinctively whenever the king’s hand reached out.

  ‘Kara is better. Thank you again, for bringing her safely home. My wife is herself once more.’

  ‘I wasn’t alone,’ said Drew, casting his hand towards his companions. ‘It’s Shah you must thank. It was her vision that allowed us to stop the Doglord’s attack when we did. Without her, the outcome might not have been so joyous.’

  Faisal nodded to the Werehawk, his smile forced.

  ‘You must understand, Lady Shah, I find it … difficult, to express my thanks to a Hawklord, after the part your kind played in breaking Azra’s walls so many years ago.’

  ‘Understandable,’ said Shah, stepping beside Drew. ‘But it’s alarming that your enemies might attack your own so close to home. What was your daughter doing on that boat in the first place?’

  ‘Being brought home.’ Faisal’s face was serious as he considered how close he’d come to losing his daughter.

  ‘The body you returned was that of my uncle, Prince Fier. He’d been schooling Kara in Denghi, where he served as my envoy. Word had reached us that Canan’s forces were marching on Azra. We had no choice but to have them return.’

  ‘How was it they came under attack?’ asked Drew.

  Faisal frowned. Before he could answer Lord Rook stepped forward and spoke for him.

  ‘The king’s enemies have a long and deadly reach, Wolf.’

  ‘But it was Doglords who attacked the skiff,’ said Drew. He watched the black robed man carefully, the Crow having taken far too much delight in tormenting Shah the previous day.

  ‘We only have your word that it was the Dogs who attacked them,’ said Rook. ‘It was probably just river pirates. Either way, she’s safe now.’

  ‘It was a Doglord, all right, your daughter will vouch for that, Your Majesty,’ said Drew. ‘I left one at the bottom of the Silver River.’

  ‘I would imagine poor Kara can remember little from the traumatic event. The child is still in shock. How very convenient that you left the villain’s corpse on the riverbed,’ said the Crowlord.

  ‘Let’s talk about convenient,’ said Drew, facing Rook. ‘How did the Dogs know that the king’s daughter was travelling to Azra? I know maps and I understand distance: how did word reach the Doglords in the north, alerting them that the child was on her way? To get a message to the Dogs so swiftly? That sounds like something that would require wings, don’t you agree, Lord Rook?’

  ‘Mind what you insinuate, pup,’ said Rook. ‘They were simply pirates; bandits, Your Majesty.’

  Drew turned to the king, fed up with the Crow’s interruptions.

  ‘Armed with silver weapons? They’re wealthy bandits Rook speaks of,’ said Drew. ‘This sounds like a coordinated attack. Your enemies are mobilizing against you, Your Majesty, and I fear their number is far greater than you imagine, and that some are closer than you know.’

  Rook took hold of Drew, turning him about so they were face to face.

  ‘You think the king isn’t worried about yesterday’s events? You assume an awful lot, son of Wergar. Your greatest concern should be your own immediate future.’

  ‘As I understood, this is the court of King Faisal, not the Crows of Riven,’ Drew snapped. ‘While your interest in my welfare is appreciated, Rook, it’s the king I seek audience with. Not some visiting dignitary from a small town in the Barebones.’

  ‘Mind your tongue, Wolf!’ said Rook. ‘You and your friends are enemies of Omir. The good people of the Desert Realm have long memories. They remember Wergar’s war all too well.’

  Drew ignored the man, speaking directly to Faisal.

  ‘You have Kara back, Your Majesty, thanks to our actions. One of my companions, Drake, died saving her. A brave man and a Werelord of the first rank, he gave his life for a complete stranger, many miles from his homeland. Surely you can let us go?’

  Faisal stroked his jaw as Drew spoke, pondering the young Wolflord’s words.

  ‘You’re the reason there’s a war in the west, boy,’ said the king finally. ‘The Seven Realms fight over Highcliff’s throne. Some say it should be yours. I’ve yet to hear your thoughts on the matter.’

  Drew grimaced. The Jackal realized all too well the young Werewolf’s value.

  ‘Up until recently I’d no interest in the throne of Westland. But that was before I saw the cruelty that takes place across Lyssia in the names of monsters like Leopold, Lucas and Kesslar.’

  Djogo and Shah looked down, ashamed, when Drew mentioned the Goatlord.

  ‘The people of Lyssia have made a stand; they’ve rallied behind the Wolf’s banner, risen in my name. I’d betray them all if I didn’t fight now, to free them from tyranny. Brackenholme, Westland, the Longridings and the Barebones –’

  ‘Don’t mention my homeland as your ally, Wolf,’ said Rook. ‘The Staglords might have made a stand at your side, but what good did it do their home?’

  Drew cocked his head at mention of the Stags. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  The Crowlord jutted out his jaw as he relayed the news from the Barebones. ‘Highwater is surrounded by Onyx’s forces, and sure to fall. As for your Staglords, no doubt you’re aware that one brother’s dead and the other’s disappeared. So please, Wolf, don’t tell me you’ve friends in the Mountain Realm. You’ll find none there.’

  Shah stepped towards the Rook. ‘Highwater laid siege to? Tell me, Crow, where
do the black birds of Riven fit into this picture. Highwater is on your doorstep, is it not?’

  Rook prickled at the Hawklady’s words.

  ‘We Crowlords remain removed from conflict. We seek nothing but peace and neutrality.’

  Shah laughed out loud, but when she looked back at Rook her face was stony.

  ‘How can you stand there and say the Crows of Riven want nothing but peace? Your father, Count Croke, has perched on that pile of slate for almost a century. In all those years he’s bullied and bickered with his neighbours, trying to wrestle control of the Barebones away from the Stags of Stormdale. You expect me to believe he sits neutral while his lifelong nemeses are beaten black and blue by the Catlords? Tell me: how soon before a Crow resides in Stormdale, Rook?’

  Rook lurched towards Shah, lashing out with a fist, only the swift action of the palace guards restraining him in time.

  ‘You witch!’ spat the Crowlord. ‘You dare lecture me on what’s best for the Barebones? Your kind don’t belong in my mountains any more than a fish belongs in a tree! You’re relics, Shah – you and whatever Hawklord scum remain! Skeer’s the best of your bad bunch, and he did right striking a deal with Leopold back in the day. He rules Windfell now, the last of the Hawks. Soon enough we’ll see how Windfell looks with black feathers on the throne!’

  His eyes bulged with fury as Shah stayed close to Djogo. Drew looked from the Crow to Faisal. He was surprised to see the Jackal staring straight at him, ignoring the shocked Shah and the raving Rook, his expression unreadable.

  Drew rounded on the Crow. ‘Isn’t Baron Griffyn the rightful Lord of Windfell?’

  ‘Griffyn? That wretched creature no longer has wings. Someone should wring his neck, put the poor buzzard out of his misery.’

  Ignoring the Crow, Drew turned to Faisal. ‘A Doglord army approaches, Your Majesty, possibly the same one that was allied to the Catlords that attacked Westland. Now they gather north of Azra, the Cats returning the favour to the Dogs. I wager you’ll find Bastians fighting alongside Omiri.’

  ‘Let them come!’ cried one of Faisal’s cousins. ‘Their bodies will litter the base of Azra’s walls!’

  ‘We can defeat this army from the north!’ shouted another.

  ‘And the one from the south?’ asked Drew, turning to the crowd. ‘Talk spreads like wildfire in Denghi. Lady Hayfa has struck a bargain with Lord Canan. Her army will come to the aid of the Doglords as well. Send scouts south – I guarantee you’ll find her. That’s three armies, my lords, surrounding your city. They’re going to carve Azra up between them!’

  ‘Preposterous!’ scoffed Rook. ‘Don’t listen to him, Your Majesty. He spreads mistrust and fear. You should have killed this monster and his companions when they landed here.’

  ‘Let us continue our quest,’ continued Drew. ‘We head into the Barebones with Baron Griffyn’s blessing. He will lead us to the ancient tomb of his forefathers, the Screaming Peak. From there, the baron shall summon the Hawklords from every corner of Lyssia.’

  Drew held the king’s gaze as he spoke, the room quiet but for the spluttering of Lord Rook.

  ‘Your aid won’t be forgotten, King Faisal. We’ll return, in number, and help you defeat the army that approaches Azra, be they Dogs, Cats or any other kind of beast. You shall have the Hawklords as allies this time!’

  Rook moved past Drew, bringing his lips closer to Faisal’s ear.

  ‘The Wolf will promise you anything to save his hide, Your Majesty. Kill him now and let all Lyssia know – you’ll be a hero throughout the Seven Realms! With one thrust of your blade you can end this war!’

  Slowly, the king turned to the Crowlord.

  ‘My dear Lord Rook,’ he said, smiling as he spoke. ‘I think you may have just outstayed your welcome.’

  ‘You’re not serious,’ said Rook, his face frozen in a shocked smile.

  ‘I’m very serious. I shall be closing the gates of Azra tonight for the last time to all but my allies. Anyone else should leave. That would include you.’

  ‘But I’m here on my father’s behalf. We are your allies.’

  ‘These are turbulent times, Lord Rook. Your father would appreciate your presence in Riven no doubt, with war threatening us all. I only want those loyal to Azra within these walls.’

  Rook was furious, spittle frothing at his lips as he looked around the room snarling, his eyes settling on Drew and his companions.

  ‘You side with your prisoners, Faisal? Is this how little you think of my kind? You take a Wolf’s word over mine?’

  Faisal rose and walked towards the enraged Lord of Riven.

  ‘This has nothing to do with the Wolf and everything to do with the Crow. Many questions remain unanswered regarding the enemy at my gates and allegiances in the Barebones. You offer little to put my mind at ease.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled by the Wolf’s gossip,’ said Rook, but he choked on his words, struggling for conviction.

  ‘I gave you every chance to walk away from Azra with your reputation intact. I tolerated your actions yesterday, taking such delight in holding the Hawklady hostage. I thought the Wolf and Hawk were my enemies …’

  ‘They are your enemies!’ said Rook. ‘You should kill them!’

  ‘And now you attack a guest in my palace, a lady no less.’

  ‘She’s no lady!’ squawked Rook. The Crowlord was now surrounded by palace guards, the other nobles having moved clear of the volatile therian.

  ‘What good does your presence here do me and my people, Rook? Why do you wish the Wolf dead so dearly? Whom do you truly serve?’

  ‘If you don’t kill them …’

  ‘If I don’t kill them, what exactly?’ exclaimed the king, releasing the Jackal at last.

  Faisal arched his back, letting the white robes that draped across his shoulders tumble away as his tanned torso tripled in size. His arms popped with muscles, fingers shifting into claws that pointed menacingly towards Rook. His neck and head broadened, the smooth fur of the Jackal racing through his flesh as sharp ears rose and a long, canine snout worked its way through his face.

  ‘Hold your tongue, Crowlord, before you say something you regret,’ growled the Werejackal.

  Drew heard the snarls of the other therians in the court. A cloud passed in front of the sun, darkening the throne room. His cousins and fellow Jackal-lords growled in unison, the beasts all too visible in their angry faces.

  ‘You have one hour, Crow,’ said Faisal. ‘The death of my dear uncle Lord Fier is shrouded by the stench of treachery, and the young Wolflord’s words have allowed me to see clearly. Gather your belongings and leave my city. If you’re still here after that, I shan’t be responsible for my fellow Jackals’ actions. A threat against their king is a threat to all.’

  Rook looked quickly around the room, noticing the assembled Jackal-lords’ state of agitation. He backed up warily, eyes flitting between the warriors and therians.

  ‘You’ve made a grave mistake siding with these beasts, Faisal,’ warned the Werecrow as he retreated through the throne room, armed guards escorting him closely. Turning on his heel, the Lord of Riven stormed from the chamber, long robe billowing as he left a shower of black feathers in his wake.

  Drew kept his distance as the transformed Werejackal watched the Crow disappear. Faisal’s broad shoulders heaved up and down. Gradually he returned to human form, the Jackal and temper subsiding.

  Finally the king looked back at Drew. ‘The black bird says I’m mistaken to trust you,’ said Faisal, his narrow eyes studying the young therian carefully. The look he gave the Wolf seemed confrontational, as if he were laying down a challenge.

  ‘Prove him wrong.’

  6

  Nowhere to Run

  The calls of the chasing pack seemed distant, their cries carried away on the chill wind that raced across the Longridings. Their torches were visible, flaming brands held alo
ft by the riders as they scoured the grasslands for fugitives. Trent spurred Storm on through the long grass, keen to put distance between himself and his comrades. With their constant shouting they were making enough noise to wake the dead, and if their enemies were to be caught, stealth had to play a large part.

  The tall fronds whipped at horse and youth as they sped along, Trent’s eyes picking out the broken grass ahead that marked the route his quarry had taken. Once again, his mind raced back to the Cold Coast where he and his father – and brother – had hunted by night, often on foot, occasionally on horseback, but always by the light of the moon. The pale light of the heavenly body illuminated the path ahead – the saw-grass clumsily broken in his foe’s desperate desire to escape. The man was injured, of that much he was sure, judging by the blood he caught sight of on the pale yellow blades of grass.

  The trail came to a sudden halt as the grass fell away suddenly before him. Trent reined Storm in, the horse snorting as she skidded to an abrupt stop, her hooves kicking at the frozen earth and sending a shower of pebbles skittering off the lip of the ravine. Trent lurched forward in his saddle, patting Storm’s neck as clouds of steam snorted from her nostrils. Directly below them a small gorge cut through the grasslands, rocky inclines rising steeply from either side of a rushing, bubbling brook. Storm stepped nervously as Trent surveyed the terrain, looking north and south up the length of the rocky valley.

  ‘He went down here,’ he said, as much to the horse as himself. ‘And so do we.’

  He gently prodded his heels into Storm’s flanks, urging her over the edge of the ravine. Reluctantly, the horse proceeded, hooves gingerly picking a path down the steep, rocky slope. Occasionally they passed a bloodied rock, a red handprint smeared against a slab of stone where the fugitive had scrambled down to the gorge’s bottom. Arriving at the base of the slope, Trent hopped down out of the saddle for a moment, leading Storm to the stream, his eyes wide and alert, searching the shadowy valley for a sighting of the enemy. He let Storm drink from the noisy stream momentarily, jumping across to the other side and searching the other bank. There was no bloody trail, no telltale marks left behind on the rocks. He glanced south down the ravine where the brook disappeared into the distance, back in the direction of the rest of his force.