Falconer's Quest

by T. Davis Bunn

  To Bernard’s other side, Nebo murmured, “I be wrong in my thoughts of you.”

  Soap muttered, “As was I.”

  Bernard’s head swiveled back and forth. “I suggest we perhaps discuss the matter at hand. We are far from the sea and the sun is erasing our cover!”

  Falconer clambered to his feet. The road stretched out flat and empty in both directions. The fog was almost gone over the land and the shoreline but clung stubbornly to the sea. A hundred yards beyond the sea, the water was swallowed in a blanket of gray.

  There was no sign of any boat. Nor of decent cover beyond where he stood.

  Nebo asked softly, “What say you?”

  Falconer glanced down. The crevice was utterly revealed, and all the people who crouched inside. “We go.”

  Nebo scrambled up to stand alongside him. He frowned at the flat and utterly exposed shoreline. “Go to where?”

  “Harkness promised he would find us,” Falconer said, offering Soap a hand. Then he crouched down so Kitty could climb on his back. “He did not say he would come if there was no storm, nor fog, nor enemy. We must trust him to have spoken the truth of what he would do.”

  They trooped through the gathering heat. The light exposed just how weak Falconer’s charges had been made by the nighttime march. The whalers limped and struggled, their faces set with the grim determination of men focused upon either freedom or the grave. Byron leaned heavily upon Nebo. Bernard hung back with Wadi, who scouted the road and walked backward.

  The sea remained stubbornly cloaked.

  When he caught the first fragrance of salt and drying seaweed, Falconer felt a sudden rush of relief. He set Kitty down upon the point where dried salt marked the high tide. He said to the others, “Hunt the shore. Gather everything you can manage to carry. Sticks, seaweed, anything. We must build a barrier between us and the road.”

  The mound took shape slowly as they gathered everything they could find. Falconer walked back to where Wadi knelt. He checked the empty road, then turned and studied what the others were building. Sands and his brother dragged a white log. Nebo and Soap bore armfuls of dried seaweed. Falconer hoped aloud, “It just might work.”

  Wadi did not need to glance back. “Just as likely, it draw attention of a hunter who passes.”

  Falconer sighed his agreement. Close to the shoreline, the sea was as calm and flat as pounded pewter. The mist was an enemy, devouring the ocean. Falconer said in resignation, “We will give it another hour, then retreat to caves and wait for the morning.”

  Wadi said softly, “They search all caves on this side.”

  “The weak among us cannot climb back over the top to the hills on the other side,” Falconer replied, though he knew Wadi had spoken the truth. “We will hide the best we can.”

  Wadi shifted his grip upon the musket. “We split into two. Warriors down, to draw fire. Others higher up.”

  Falconer mulled it over briefly. “If they find one group, they will very quickly find the others. We stay together.”

  Wadi did not insist. Instead, he rose slowly to his feet.

  “What is it?”

  Wadi handed Falconer his musket without turning from the road. He shielded his eyes with both hands.

  Falconer felt the sun gather and press hard upon his shoulders. “Soldiers?”

  “Someone.”

  He saw nothing but the heat dancing upon the yellow road. But he did not doubt his friend’s ability to pierce the distance. “Should we run for the caves?”

  “Too late.” Wadi spun about and grabbed his musket and started for the shore. “Gather all.”

  Wadi in one direction, Falconer in the other, both men running in a half crouch. The whalers saw him coming and froze. “To the shelter,” Falconer called. “Hurry!”

  Everyone now was limping. It made the moment worse, for there was so little reserve for any escape. That is, if they managed to remain unseen.

  The barrier was shaped like a crescent moon, built from seaweed and driftwood and sand. They had to crouch and tuck in tight to fit behind it. Falconer shielded Kitty with his body. He felt her slight form tremble and wanted to offer her assurances, but he could not bring himself to lie.

  He risked a final glance. They were indeed warriors. Too many to count. “Down,” he breathed. “Still as stones.”

  Yet despite their best efforts, a great shout rose from the road. And gunfire.

  Then the gunfire was answered—from the sea.

  Falconer flipped onto his back and lifted his head slightly.

  A longboat appeared from the mist. Ten men pulled strongly upon the oars. Lieutenant Bivens gripped the tiller. He pointed ahead, to where they crouched, and shouted words lost to the rising clamor of the approaching danger.

  “To the sea!” Falconer roared. He lifted Kitty bodily and handed her to Nebo. “Hurry!”

  Chapter 36

  The desert silence was blasted away as horses galloped and whinnied, men shouted, and muskets coughed. The hills to the south collected all the sounds and echoed with a dull rumble that sounded like thunder. Or battle.

  “Row like your lives depended upon it!” Bivens’ roar carried over the other noises. “Row!”

  Falconer crouched low and alone behind the makeshift barrier while the others were pushing ever further into the water toward the longboat. The placid sea was too shallow to offer quick protection, however. Thirty paces from shore, the water was scarcely knee deep.

  Turning back to look over the barrier, Falconer realized his first concern were the two outriders galloping well ahead of the main company. The riders were crouched low to their mounts, urging them on with snarled oaths. One raced along the shoreline. The other had crossed from the road’s opposite side and was aiming straight for the barrier. Whether either had seen him, Falconer did not know.

  Another swift glance over his shoulder was enough to guarantee that Falconer’s worst fear was at hand. No matter how hard Bivens pushed his men, they would not arrive in time.

  Falconer turned back to the attackers. The warriors were now split in two companies. Twenty or so galloped on desert horses. Behind them rode as many again on camels. The hump-backed animals loped at desert-eating pace, yet the horses drew steadily ahead. The two outriders would sweep in and harass the little band until the full company attacked. There was only one chance to save his group.

  Falconer turned seaward once more and roared a single word. “Nebo!”

  The big African glanced back and instantly understood. He did not hand Wadi the girl so much as toss her across the sea. Then he separated himself from the others, racing back now to confront the outrider approaching on the side.

  Wadi in turn handed the girl to Soap and leapt after his friend.

  Falconer faced the second outrider. The element of surprise had been lost by his shout. The horseman’s scimitar glittered in the hard light as the man aimed his horse straight at the barrier.

  Below the top edge of the barrier, Falconer hefted a driftwood branch, about as thick as his arm and half again as long. At the last moment, he stood, his sturdy club at the ready. As hoped, the horseman made a critical mistake, going for Falconer’s weapon and not the man. The warrior swung his blade in a glittering arc. The scimitar chopped off nearly half of Falconer’s branch. But the horse was then forced to jump the barrier. Landing his horse safely meant the desert warrior could not make a backhand jab for Falconer.

  While the horse was in midair, Falconer gripped the warrior’s stirrup and flipped him, saddle and all. The saddle strap snapped like a gunshot and the rider fell with a cry.

  The horse was thrown off balance as well, and landed upon the man, who shrieked in pain. Falconer leaned back as the horse stumbled to its feet, and then he reached in and cuffed the warrior unconscious. He kicked the musket well out of reach before grabbing the man’s sword.

  He stepped over the barrier. Directly in front of the oncoming soldiers.

  “Falconer!”

  Th
e voice which called his name was so shrill he could not tell which man had shouted, or if perhaps it was even the young girl. He took a two-handed grip upon the sword’s haft and lifted it to the level of his chest. A warrior ready to parry and give battle.

  He would not intentionally take another man’s life. But he would defend his charges even to the death.

  “Falconer!”

  The band of horsemen were a hundred paces away and closing fast. Falconer could see the lather flecking their muzzles, see the warriors’ snarling rage, see the killing lust in their eyes.

  Into your hands, Lord,he prayed, staring straight at the oncoming doom. Into your hands.

  He took what he supposed was his last steady breath and found three faces before his mind’s eye.

  Ada, dear sweet Ada.

  Matt, with his shining face and wisdom beyond his years.

  And then, to his utter astonishment, he saw Amelia Henning.

  As though in response to his shock, the air overhead was ripped apart.

  The sound was of a giant swath of fabric being torn in two. Then the earth exploded.

  Falconer was showered in dirt and pebbles and noise.

  Another cannonball arched overhead and blasted the earth between him and the road. Through the swirling smoke, Falconer saw the horsemen thrown into complete disarray. A half dozen horses milled about riderless. The others were turning tail and racing for safety.

  Falconer did exactly the same.

  There before him, rising out of the thinning mist, lay the merchant vessel. Two other longboats were lashed to its bow. Men strained upon the oars, pulling it closer to shore. The ship’s cannon portholes were open and smoking. As Falconer splashed into the sea, the ship’s guns blasted another barrage of smoke and fire.

  Arms reached over the longboat’s side, urging him on. A dozen and more faces stretched taut as they shouted words his ringing ears could not hear. Nor did he need to. Falconer pushed hard until the water rose to his waist and the boat was finally in reach, and hands were there to grip and pull him over the side. He lay there upon the gunnels, gasping for breath, as the longboat swiftly turned and began pushing hard for the vessel.

  And safety.

  Falconer was in the process of seeing Matt off to bed when the soft knock came upon their cabin door. “Enter.”

  Amelia Henning appeared in the doorway. “Forgive the intrusion, sir.”

  “You are always welcome, ma’am,” Falconer replied, and meant it. “Is it Kitty?”

  “She calls for you.”

  “May I come too, Father?” Matt asked.

  Falconer did not have the heart to tell the lad to remain abed. Since their safe return, Matt had clung to Falconer almost as much as the little girl had. “Slip into your trousers and boots, then.”

  The boy wore his nightdress as a shirt, the long tail bunching up inside his trousers. He kept hold of Falconer’s hand as they followed Amelia back down the upper-deck hallway. As they passed the third passenger cabin, the door opened. Byron’s face emerged into the candlelight. Falconer asked kindly, “Can you not sleep either?”

  The young man’s haunted expression said it all.

  Falconer glanced a query at Amelia Henning, who nodded her agreement. He said to Byron, “We were going to go sit with Kitty for a time. Would you care to join us?”

  From inside the cabin, Bernard called out, “May I come as well?”

  Amelia Henning responded before Falconer could object. “Of course.”

  The five of them seemed to reduce the small cabin’s air. The little girl was seated in her bunk with her back against pillows, the pillows piled against the wall. Falconer settled Matt at the foot of Kitty’s bed, opened the porthole slightly, then sat down between the two children. He did not need to ask how the girl was. One glance was enough to know the shadows were still deeply embedded. He reached for the little girl’s hand, but instead the child climbed into his lap and nestled upon his chest. “What a dear sweet lass you are,” he murmured, stroking her hair and looking at her mother.

  Amelia’s small nod as she settled into the chair next to the bed was permission enough. Now she reached over and patted the girl’s trembling back. She lifted her gaze to Falconer, silently imploring his help once again.

  Their first dinner back on board had been a quietly contented affair. Though they had returned safely, the imprint of all they had endured remained close. The sea had stayed calm and the day windless, so the longboats had rowed the merchants well away from land. Harkness had ordered their dinner be served upon the quarterdeck to take advantage of the cool sea air and to keep watch over the night. The three whalers had been invited to join them, and Byron was seated next to his father. Captain Clovis was there as well, his vessel lying a cable’s length northward. Nebo and Wadi had joined them also, but only because both captains had ordered them to be seated with the officers.

  Amelia Henning came with her daughter and introduced them all to the beautiful little child, now bathed and brushed with hair almost the same shade as Matt’s. The two had not seated themselves at the table, however, for Kitty wished to remain nestled against her mother, and Amelia did not consider that fitting behavior for the captain’s table. Though Harkness had implored Mrs. Henning to join the others, she had preferred to sit apart with her daughter, who had stared out over the open waters with weary wonderment.

  Falconer was not surprised to find the girl was now unable to sleep.

  He noticed that Matt was snuggling close as well, and Falconer shifted the girl over slightly, then extended one arm to envelop his son.

  He felt the week’s exertions to the very depth of his being. He thought a moment of the hairsbreadth between this earth and his passage to the great beyond, and his arm tightened around Matt.

  “Before my son and I set off on this journey,” Falconer said softly to his small audience, “we made ourselves a pact. We would treat this journey as a quest. We already had a mission. We were to aid Reginald Langston in freeing his son. But one morning there upon the road, Matt said something that suggested we needed to identify a quest for ourselves as well.”

  Falconer glanced at his son. “Do you wish to tell these friends what that quest was?”

  Matt’s voice too was soft, but crystal clear. “We were going to find a new future for ourselves. A future with hope and happiness.”

  Falconer’s hand came up to touch the boy’s face. “Do you mind, Matt, if we talk about this in front of the others? Because we can wait for another time if you wish.”

  “I don’t mind, Father John.”

  “Have you found an answer to your quest?” Falconer phrased the question as carefully as he knew how.

  “Yes. But I’m still a little afraid.”

  “What of?” When Matt did not respond, Falconer answered for him. “That you might dishonor your mother’s blessed memory?”

  When he felt the boy’s nod against his arm, Falconer said, “I have feared that very same thing, lad. I need to tell you, though, that out there in the desert, I discovered a remarkable thing. That God was expanding my heart. I had already found room within to love my Savior, and your mother, and you. And now my heart was growing larger still, so that I could love others. New friends that Ada never knew while she was here with us. People and places and new experiences that would enrich us both.”

  Falconer felt a presence enter the candlelit chamber. One that could not be seen with his earthly eyes. One that did not require acknowledging, but one that was present just the same. “That was a miracle I could only have experienced because I set off on this quest. I did so because I wanted youto be whole again, my son. I could not say if my own time of restoration was over. I simply wanted youto have a future and new joys. And what did I discover, but that God was great and good enough to heal me as well. I learned something else too. That Ada was with me still. In my heart. Where my love for her would never end. She would remain with me until the end of time.”

  Matt stirred
in his embrace, and said softly, “I discovered something else, Father John.”

  “What is that, son?”

  “When you left on the boat that day, I was very afraid. I thought I could stay brave. But as I watched you row away, I worried that I would…”

  “Lose me like you had lost your mother and your father,” Falconer quietly supplied.

  “And then I felt Mrs. Henning put her arm around me,” Matt went on. “She said that she would give me comfort and strength, and pray with me.”

  Falconer turned to face the woman. Her upturned features were illuminated by the candle’s glow, and by a deeper light. One that emanated from her features and her gaze, melting away the shadows of loss. “Did she, now.”

  “Yes, Father John. And I felt my fear go away. Then I knew—I knew just what you said. That friends can help us in the bad times. New friends. Now I see how the fear I was feeling was why we became friends. I don’t want to be sad again. And I don’t like being afraid. But I know that if bad times do come, I’m not alone.”

  In the silence that ensued, Amelia Henning whispered, “My child is fast asleep.”

  The figures packed into that small space remained absolutely silent for a long moment, then one after another just as silently slipped out the door.

  Chapter 37

  Falconer emerged on deck to discover a swiftly rising breeze. Captain Clovis moved across the deck, doffed his hat, and bowed an officer’s farewell. “Captain Harkness has described how it was your idea to include us, sir. I offer you my sincere thanks for the opportunity to take part in this grand effort.”

  “We could not have succeeded without you. I never would have thought a cannon’s thunder could be as welcome to my ears.” The two men chuckled, then sobered.

  “That’s as may be,” Captain Clovis responded, “but you indeed are the hero of this saga.” The officer offered his hand. “It has been an honor, sir.”