Seeker of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “It’s about time you showed up,” Wren said, sounding irritated. “I told Crane and his buddies Thalagar belongs to you, but they’re planning on stealing him. Isn’t that right, Crane? Isn’t that what you just told me?”

  Taliesin hurried to Thalagar’s stall and placed the sack of apples over a hook as the black stallion snorted and walked toward her. “Is this true, Crane?” she asked, turning to face the grooms. “You know Thalagar is mine. So are the horses in these four paddocks. You’re not taking them. They belong to me!”

  “I’m not walking to Erindor,” Crane said. He was fifteen years old and large for his age. His hair was the color of straw and his nose was broken from brawling. Crane was a notorious bully, and he clenched ham-sized fists as his three friends stood behind him. They were gawky boys with pimples and dirty faces. Crane, Toad, Buzzard, and Drake were sons of Black Wing guards, and like most boys their age, acted as if they were entitled to take whatever they wanted. Taliesin wasn’t about to let them take her property, and she glared at their ringleader.

  “If I were going to Eagle’s Cliff, I might let you borrow a horse, but I’m going elsewhere. Rook, Wren, Hawk, and Grudge are coming with me, and we’ll need horses,” Taliesin said. The four boys weren’t as tall as she was, but they were heavier and meaner. Her rank didn’t impress them; they only saw a woman standing in their way. “Buzzard, don’t you dare open that latch. I’m warning you. These horses belong to me, and I’m not parting with a single one.”

  Drake reached for a nearby rake. Lanky brown hair fell into his gaunt face as he spun around and lifted the rake like a sword. “The Raven Mistress is getting too big for her britches,” he said in a threatening manner.

  “Needs to be taken down a peg,” Crane agreed. He cracked his knuckles. “Boys?”

  Wren and Rook walked over as Thalagar snorted and pawed the ground in his paddock. A blush appeared on Crane’s face as Rook motioned for him to stand aside. Crane nodded at his companions. Drake swung the rake at Taliesin as Toad, a fat boy with red curls, lifted a riding crop he’d been hiding behind his back. Toad went for Wren while Buzzard and Crane ran toward Rook. Taliesin ducked under the rake, punched Drake in the stomach, and knocked him to the ground.

  With an angry cry, Rook threw the brush at Crane’s head, knocking him backward in a daze, and then caught Toad before he reached Wren. Buzzard came to Toad’s aid, and the two boys scuffled with their larger adversary. Rook knocked Buzzard into a pile of dung, where he held a hand over his broken nose. Toad received a right hook to the jaw and fell to the ground. Sniffling, Toad jumped to his feet and ran for the door. Rook picked up the rake and shook it in the air. A mad scramble ensued as the other three boys, chased by Rook, dashed out after Toad. Wren and Taliesin stood together and watched the door, laughing, until Rook returned.

  “Thank you,” Taliesin said, out of breath. “I suppose you heard what I said about us not going to Eagle’s Cliff with the clan.” The girl nodded. “The Wolfmen have made it impossible for me to go with the clan. I have to go into hiding and Osprey wants Rook to accompany me, but I know he won’t leave without you or Hawk. Grudge said he’d come with us. Will you go with us, Wren?”

  “Go where? If the Wolfmen are hunting you, I’d rather go to Eagle’s Cliff. You best give Thalagar an apple. He’s upset. I’ll ask Rook what he wants to do.”

  Turning to Thalagar, Taliesin gave a whistle and he trotted to her. She took an apple out of the bag and held it out to the big, black stallion. He sniffed her hand, nostrils flaring as he breathed in her scent, and took the apple. Thalagar was every bit as impressive as the white horse Rook was grooming, though considerably smaller. Thalagar was an Andorran, from the desert of Garridan, known for speed and endurance, while the white horse was a Morgenstern. Taliesin also owned a Morgenstern, a horse for a knight, and intended to let Grudge ride it. She glanced at Rook and saw he was watching her.

  “I’m not sure where we’ll go,” Taliesin said. “Grudge and Hawk will come up with a plan. You will come with me, won’t you, Rook?”

  Wren used sign language to speak with Rook, and at his nod let out a heavy sigh. “Rook will follow Osprey’s order and come with you,” Wren said. “I guess that means I have to go, too. But I’m picking the horse I will ride.”

  Taliesin smiled as the girl walked to the horses. Wren favored a white mare with a black patch on her nose and black forelocks, and gave the horse an apple. Rook put aside his currycomb and walked to Taliesin. He moved his hands, speaking to her in sign, but she didn’t understand, for she’d never leaned the language of the deaf and mute. When she shook her head, he gave an exasperated sigh and turned toward Wren.

  “Rook wants to thank you for the silver spear,” Wren said. “He believes it’s our duty to keep the Raven Master’s favorite daughter safe from harm.” The girl’s tone sounded less than sincere. “He also thinks you should give four horses to Crane. Hawk will keep the white stallion, and we can use a mule to carry our gear.”

  “Rook said all that?” Taliesin laughed. Her intent was misconstrued and Wren took immediate offense.

  “If you desire to understand the art of sign language,” Wren said, “then take the time to learn, Raven Mistress.”

  “That is not my title,” Taliesin said, disliking the girl’s impertinence. “Tell Rook I appreciate his help. Please ask him to give Crane the four brown horses. I’d appreciate you both staying here until the clan heads out; I don’t want anyone else to try to steal my horses. We’ll leave when it’s dark. Take only a change of clothes and a few necessities. I’ll provide weapons and money because I know you don’t have any.”

  Wren nodded. “Please ask Hillary to pack us a few of those raisin scones.” She sounded meek when she wanted something, Taliesin noted. “They are my favorites...”

  Making a mental list of supplies, Taliesin took the same path through the garden and entered the kitchen to find the house staff busy packing for their long journey. Mrs. Caldwell came over and Taliesin procured enough food for fifteen days; the typical amount carried by the Black Wings. She also secured a bag of raisin scones for Wren. Taliesin hugged Mrs. Caldwell, moved by the older woman’s tears.

  “Take care, Mrs. Caldwell. I shall miss you.”

  “And I you, dear child.” The woman turned to wipe away a tear.

  Taliesin said her farewells to the house staff and went in search of Hillary. The kitchen master stood outside the hall doors with six lads and handed out rations to the families leaving Raven’s Nest. When Hillary saw her, he came over, tears in his eyes, and hugged her.

  “I gave four of your best dresses to the riders,” Hillary said, sniffing. “Things didn’t turn out quite as I imagined. I’m sorry you won’t be going with us, Taliesin. You’ve grown into a fine young woman. I’m very proud of you.” He set her down. “I still remember the day you first came to Raven’s Nest, a frightened little thing hiding in Osprey’s wagon. The only way I could convince you to come inside was to bribe you with a sugared pastry. Back then you had scabs on your knees, freckles on your nose, and a nasty habit of biting people when you didn’t get your way.”

  “And I remember how you spoiled me,” Taliesin said. “I’m surprised my teeth didn’t rot out of my head with the treats you gave me. You and Captain Leech were my best friends. He taught me to ride and how to fight with a sword, but you were the one who tucked me in at night and told me bedtime stories.” She wiped a tear off his cheek. “My favorite stories were about the Red Bandit of Scrydon and the Assassins Guild. I used to daydream about the Red Bandit, and how he snuck into Tantalon Castle through a secret tunnel to steal the King’s crown, and his many adventures trying to avoid being caught by the guild.”

  Hillary laughed. “Tried and succeeded, for I am still alive, my dear.”

  “You? You are the Red Bandit?” Taliesin started laughing when the old man nodded, and tried to imagine Hillary as a younger man climbing over castle walls, running across rooftops, and fighting off
assassins. Mrs. Caldwell certainly found him a romantic figure, and despite the wrinkles and sagging gut, she still saw a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s no wonder I was never able to fool you when I raided the kitchen pantry for a few treats. You always knew it was me the next morning.”

  “Sugar on your pillow attracted ants, my dear,” Hillary said. “I’m thicker than I used to be, and I’ve lost the red mask, but not the memories.” His expression turned dour as he placed his gnarled hand upon her shoulder. “Minerva has been up in your room all afternoon, helping herself to whatever she wants. I tried to stop her, but that dagger of hers is deadly; I barely made it out with my guts intact.” He gave her a wink. “But she didn’t find that certain something you hid in the suit of armor, which I know nothing about of course. It’s still there.”

  “I’m going to miss you most of all, Hillary. I wish I were coming with you. But I’ll never forget the tales of the Red Bandit, or your sugary treats.” Taliesin kissed the old man on the cheek. “You never told me what happened to the King’s crown? What did you do with it?”

  Hillary chuckled. “Sold it for less than it was worth, but Frederick had another made,” he said. “Now go up to your room and pack your things. I’ll make sure you have enough green apples to take with you; I know how much Thalagar loves them.” He turned away and started passing out bundles of food, but he seemed happier in his task. Taliesin no longer would ever think of him the same—Hillary would always be the Red Bandit, the notorious thief who became a Raven cook to avoid a blade in his back.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  The Black Wings and Eagle legionnaires were already on the road. The envoy’s carriage and a line of wagons formed a procession through the main gate. The children were loaded into wagons, and the women walked behind. The older boys, assisted by Falstaff, herded sheep, pigs, and cattle behind the wagons. Crane and his three companions, each with a girl, rode the four brown horses. Mrs. Caldwell sat with Hillary on the seat of a wagon and drove the team. A loud squawk from Osprey’s pet goose made Taliesin smile as she spotted the bird seated in a wagon Minerva was driving. The twins, Falcon and Talon, were seated beside several girls the goose kept biting. Osprey never came to say farewell, and Taliesin had avoided Minerva, but upon seeing the old crone leaving Raven’s Nest, she had felt a lump form in her throat.

  Taliesin watched from a window as an officer in a black cloak and winged helmet stood up on his horse. The last to leave, Quail, a veteran Black Wing, gave a fierce cry, put his heels to his horse, and galloped out of the gate. The guards ran forward to close the gate, and she turned away from the window.

  “May we come in?”

  Grudge stood at the open door to her bedroom, wearing a long black cape and carrying a single bag over his shoulder. Hawk pushed his way into the room from behind Grudge. He glanced at her bed where she’d laid out the best weapons she’d collected over a lifetime, and walked over to select what he wanted. The rising moonlight coming through the window reflected in his dark eyes.

  Hawk picked up a dagger. “Mind if I take this?”

  “Take whatever you want.” Taliesin turned to Grudge. “Quail is a good man. I’m glad he’ll look after the Clan in your absence. What did you tell my father?”

  “I told Osprey I was taking Hawk and two more men with me to Wolf’s Lair. Ten men volunteered to remain and defend Raven’s Nest. The horses are already saddled and the mule is packed. Rook and Wren are gathering more supplies. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Just about,” she said. “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll be traveling north,” he said. “I have friends in Fregia who will provide shelter. The moon will be high tonight. As long as we keep to the trees and off the road, we should be able to slip past the Wolf Pack.”

  “But isn’t that where Prince Sertorius is headed? Will it be safe?” Taliesin fastened on her Mandrake sword and put on her black cloak, fastening the brooch before picking up her saddlebags. One more bag lay on the floor.

  “Safe enough,” Grudge said.

  Hawk helped himself to a quiver of javelins. A frown hung heavy upon his handsome face. “I know Wren doesn’t appear to be able to throw one,” he said, “but she has a good aim. I taught her myself.”

  “Take whatever you think Rook and Wren will need.” Taliesin went to her desk and pointed at five leather pouches. “Each of you gets a bag of coins and gems,” she said. “Hopefully, we won’t become separated on the road, but we should be prepared for anything. I packed Sertorius’ flag just in case we’re stopped and need to show it to get by Peergynt’s men.”

  Handing three bags to Hawk, she gave another to Grudge, and tucked one for herself into a pocket of her leather jacket. The scroll was inside a leather pouch hanging on her sword belt. She picked her bedroll off the bed and returned to stand by the bag on the floor, turning to look around the room, and trying to think of what else was needed.

  “I don’t suppose Osprey came to see you off,” Hawk said. She shook her head. “You know he is fond of you, Taliesin, but he’s also superstitious. Saying farewell would be too permanent for him.” He grabbed a long bow and a quiver of yellow-feathered arrows; he had what he wanted, and went to stand by the door. His cutlasses were on either hip and he wore a long cloak that touched the floor.

  “Hold up,” Grudge said, with a rumble. He gazed at the weapons on the bed. “You have a very nice selection here, Taliesin.” He selected a double-edged battle-axe with a handle covered in leather and silver studs, a hunting knife in an ornate sheath, and a smaller, short-handled knife that could be used for shaving a beard or slicing a Wolfman’s throat. “I’ve always admired the weapons made by Marcus Gregor,” he said. “Shame you have to leave so many of his weapons behind.”

  Taliesin pointed at small throwing axe with a handle covered in red leather that lay on the bed. “If you like Gregor, then you should have this, too,” she said. “It belonged to a Knight of the Blue Star. I’m sorry to leave the rest. I thought about packing a few to sell, in case we need more money, but we’d be weighted down.”

  “We have enough, Taliesin,” Grudge said, sliding the weapons into his bag. “I know you don’t want to leave, but trust me, this is for the best. You’ve packed too much. What you have in your saddlebags will have to do. Leave that bag on the floor.”

  “It contains rations and raisin scones for Wren. I can’t leave it behind.”

  Grudge picked up the bag and walked to the door. The finality of their departure formed a large lump in Taliesin’s throat. Tears started to stream down her face as the two men headed along the hallway, and she turned her head aside, trying to hold back a sob but it managed to slip out. She trudged behind them, leaving her door open, and the candles burning.

  “I’ve spent so much time wishing I could see the world,” she said, her voice quavering. “Now that I’m able to do so, I don’t want to leave. If I hadn’t stolen those items from the battlefield, if I’d admitted the theft, then this might not have happened.”

  “For the love of Heggen,” Grudge said. His loud voice echoed through the hallway. “There’s no reason to cry. Cut it out.” When she sobbed harder, he cleared his throat. “Hawk, say something to make her stop. I can’t abide tears.”

  “Like what?” Hawk replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I feel the same way she does. Raven’s Nest is my home.”

  “I don’t know,” Grudge said. “Just make her stop.”

  Hawk let Grudge pass him and waited for Taliesin. They walked along the hallway side-by-side; every door was open, as if the occupants would return home soon. He nudged her with his elbow. The corners of his mouth lifted and two dimples appeared in his cheeks. Taliesin noticed a thin scar in the shape of a crescent moon on his right cheek. He hadn’t shaved, and the hair growth along his jaw reminded her of a fuzzy young chick. She stopped crying and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

  “A few weeks ago, I met an old man on the road,” Hawk said.
“He told me about a magical place located in the Salayen Desert called the Cave of the Snake God. There, he said, lays the Raven Sword, hidden away all these centuries. I know you’ve always wanted to go in search of Ringerike; you’ve talked about it for ages, and I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you about it. Now is that time.”

  Taliesin felt her heart skip a beat; she’d dreamed of finding Ringerike. Mandrake had told her the legend of King Korax. The first and only king of the Raven Clan, he had been defeated in battle by the treacherous Tarquin Draconus, a northern barbarian from Skarda. As Korax lay dying, Tarquin took up Ringerike and was pronounced king of Caladonia. His rule was short and ended with his premature death, and the magical sword vanished from history.

  “I cannot deny the thought of finding Ringerike hasn’t crossed my mind countless times,” Taliesin said. “But who was this man, Hawk? How can you trust him? Did he give you a map?”

  “He drew one for me; not a very good one, and I know it’s a hard journey, but Ringerike is said to be the most powerful magical sword ever forged. When we find Ringerike, we can give it to Lord Arundel and restore our clan’s honor,” Hawk said. “We find that sword and all our fortunes will change overnight.” Grudge kept walking, not saying a word about Hawk’s plan, but Taliesin was excited.

  Shadows moved along the corridor, creeping in and out of the doorways and followed them down the stairs and into Raven’s Hall. It was deathly quiet in the large chamber. The long tables were cluttered with dirty plates and platters of uneaten food. Expensive tapestries had been taken off the walls, and the large fireplace held only smoldering embers. The kitchen door lay open and a few rats scurried across the floor and vanished inside. Hawk handed Taliesin a glass of wine and took one for himself. Grudge turned and joined them. All three raised their glasses, tapped them together, then drank the contents in one gulp. The large man slammed his glass onto the table.