The large cavy of ponies was slowly using up the available grass in their little valley and the three partners, for that was what they had become, sat by their fire one evening discussing the problem.
"You've got a purty good supply o' meat an' hides already," the hunter commented, "an' if'n it ain't sold soon, we'll have ta throw some of th' older meat out. We been eatin' th' oldest but you two're killin' it faster'n we c'n eat it 'r dry it. Why don't ya take it inta th' crater and sell it, Kit? Ya can sell 'bout eight 'r ten o' th' ponies too 'fore they eat up all th' forage 'round here."
"By myself?" asked Kit, astonished. "I wouldn't know what to ask for everything and how would I get those ponies to the crater by myself?"
"I'll tell ya what to 'spect fer th' meat and th' ponies. Chan can hep ya get 'em ta th' pass. From thar, even you c'n make it alone. If'n ya start early t'morra, ya otta be in th' crater afore noon. Ya could pick up some cook pots and other necessaries 'fore ya come back th' next mornin'."
Chan looked over at the boy. "What he says can be easily done. I would like a crossbow of my own, if one could be found, and a supply of bolts as well. I am determined to master that weapon."
The three of them talked well into the night. Helvon did most of the talking, explaining what a fair price would be for the various meats and ponies they had to sell. It was decided to sell eight of the nineteen ponies, all but two of those ridden by the defeated nomads. These would be packed up with most of the meat and hides that had been gathered. Kit would go in with nine ponies in tow and come out with one. The returning pack horse would be loaded with items from a long list of 'necessaries' which Kit had committed to memory.
The next morning, almost before the sun came up, they caught and loaded the ponies. Chan took five of the ponies in tow and led the boy with the rest of their little train out through the waterfall and on to Maryland Pass. A mile outside the pass, they parted ways. It was agreed that they would meet at the same point the next morning. Kit took all of the ponies in tow and moved on into the pass.
Getting through was no problem for the boy as every man there recognized him. They were surprised to see the boy coming through by himself. Kit told them that Goovon had been killed and Helvon wounded. They expressed concern about his traveling in the wilds alone.
"I haven't been alone," he told them. "Chan was with me 'til I got a mile from the pass. He'll meet me on my return trip tomorrow."
"Chan, the nomad spy from McAllister?" the Captain asked. "Is he still around?"
"Yes," the boy replied, "and he'll probably stay nearby as long as he is sure your men will not bother him. I hope the amnesty that my father granted him has not been lifted. He saved our bacon in that skirmish a week ago."
"Don't worry about that," the officer assured him. "If he doesn't try to enter the pass and leaves our people alone, he'll be left in peace by our men. We haven't forgotten what he did for your father's last troop."
The rest of the day was spent in selling their meat to the butchers and their ponies to a horse trader. The ponies had netted a particularly good profit and Kit found himself in possession of a very large purse. He arrived at the outfitter's shop just a half hour before closing time. His business took over an hour but the shop owner did not complain in the least.
When all else was bought and packed, Kit asked about a crossbow for his friend, Chan. The outfitter stepped down to the end of his counter where he kept the weapons.
"There are several models to choose from," he said. "Which one would you like?" He began to pull out several different types of weapons most of which Kit was familiar with.
Kit was trying to decide which model would be easiest for Chan to use with his hook when the man pulled out something he had never seen before.
"This is the latest thing from the forges at McAllister," the outfitter announced. "It's called the Ganton model and is being adopted as standard armament by the Aerie's Glider Riders. It has a strong, steel bow and is of all metal construction. The ratchet cocking mechanism allows it to be cocked and loaded in less than six seconds. It's expensive but it'll last a lifetime."
Kit took the odd shaped little weapon in his hands and began looking it over carefully. It was small, with a bow a mere twelve inches long. The all metal frame went straight back and a handgrip shot down and back from the bottom of the body. There was a large cocking lever that extended in front of and below the trigger guard. A lanyard was attached to the bottom of the handle. "I've heard about this one. It's designed to be fired one handed, isn't it? How powerful is it?"
"One handed it is," the man replied, "and the only bow more powerful is the crank cocked Guardsman special which has an eighteen inch steel bow. This thing will out shoot your crossbow by forty percent, so they say, and it will cock in one quarter of the time. It uses a special bolt with an iron head."
"How many of them do you have?" the boy asked with an avaricious light in his eye, "and what do they cost?"
The man grinned. "I only have two left after outfitting the Aerie. They'll set you back twelve gold marks apiece and a half mark a dozen for the bolts. Are you interested?"
Kit counted out twenty seven gold marks from his purse. There was very little left but the boy did not care a whit. "I'll take both of them and six dozen bolts. Can you throw in a pair of quivers for that price? I think I've given you a lot of business today already."
"Indeed you have," the man replied. "For that, I will give you the quivers and eight dozen bolts. Is that all you need for now?"
"If these are as good as you say," Kit replied, "I'll need another one of these as soon as you can get it."
"Don't worry," he was assured, "it's a hot item. I have ten more already ordered. They should arrive within the month. Now let me show you how this beauty works."
That night, outside of the tavern where Kit had secured lodging, a target was set up. Kit was busily pumping small bolts into it by the light of a lantern when someone came out the back door and stood behind him watching.
"That is good shooting," a familiar voice said. "None of my Riders can match that with their Ganton models yet."
Kit turned to see the Master Falconer, Daron, standing there with a sad look on his face. "Master Daron, what are you doing here?"
"I came looking for you." The man proffered his hand in friendship. "One of my Riders recognized you here and rushed back to tell me. I have not talked to you since before your father and Heron died. I wanted to see how you were doing."
Kit's face darkened. "I'm sorry about Heron. Did he tell you how I treated him before he left?"
"He did not give me any of the details but I could tell by his mood that you were not too receptive to his entreaties."
"I had just had a big fight with my grandfather. I was on my way out for the last time and wasn't in a good mood. I'm afraid I took my anger out on him. If I had known what was to happen, I would have acted differently. I feel so guilty for treating him that way when all he wanted to do was help me out." The boy stared at the ground and shuffled one foot uneasily.
The man placed his hand on the lad's shoulder. "You should not torture yourself over it. None of it was your fault and Heron understood your feelings. He kept saying that when the games were over, he would hound you until you had to take up his offer. I want you to know, that offer still stands."
"You already talked to Grandfather," the boy pointed out, "and his stand has not changed as of ten days ago."
"I almost had him convinced that time." Daron ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "He had all but agreed to nominate you until he found out about Heron's death. When he left, I think he was as confused about it as ever. I don't think his mind is totally made up. I will continue to approach him about it if you wish."
"I'd like that," Kit said, "but I'm not getting any younger. If he holds out too long, I'll be too old to start, won't I?"
The Falconer shook his head. "You should not worry about that for a while. You are small for your age yet and I am the on
e who must make the decision as to who is too old and who is not. We have some time yet to convince your grandfather, I should think. How do I get in touch with you if I am successful? Are you staying here?"
Kit grinned. "I should be coming in and out of the crater every week or two. I'll get in touch with you, don't worry."
"Coming in and out?" The Falconer was shocked. "What will you be doing out in the wild lands?"
"I've joined a small group of meat hunters. We're doing pretty well considering we've already had one fight with nomads. You can tell my grandfather about that, if you want. Maybe it will help him change his mind. I've already had one partner killed, had another wounded and had a third, a renegade nomad, join up. That will give him a lot to think about."
"A renegade nomad?" the man asked. "That would not be the ex-spy, Chan, would it?"
"The same," Kit smiled. "He's a pretty nice man and a great warrior and hunter. He saved our bacon in that fight and took us to his secret camp to nurse Helvon back to health. He'll be meeting me outside the crater on my return trip tomorrow."
Daron clapped Kit on the shoulder. "It looks like you are in good hands, then. I'll talk to your grandfather again and you get in touch with me at the Aerie when you get back in. In the meantime, I'll have my Riders keep a special eye out for you outside the passes."
"We're hunting to the north of Maryland Pass but I doubt if your Eagle Riders will spot us often. The territory out there is wild and wide and we move around a lot. I've only noticed three Eagle Riders passing overhead in the last two weeks except for right outside the pass."
The next morning Kit rode out of Maryland Pass, his spare pony trailing behind loaded high with goods. Five minutes later, Chan stepped out of concealment behind a large boulder.
Kit put on his widest grin. "Have I got a crossbow for you! It's so good, I got another for myself and left Suron's old weapon back with my father's other sword. You'll like this one. It only takes one hand to shoot it."
The nomad's face lit up but his only reply was a surprised grunt. Chan didn't talk too much when he was away from their campsite.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Goovon lay on his side in the semi darkness of one of the smaller of the nomad tents. His hands and feet were bound but he had been fed and given water on a fairly regular basis. His feet had been unbound from time to time and he had been led into the woods in order to relieve himself so that he would not have to soil his bed inside the tent. Most importantly, he had not been tortured yet, a fact that led Goovon to deduce that the nomad leader was still interested in the proposition he had made.
One of his guards came in and removed the binding on his feet. This was curious because he had already been taken out only a half hour ago. "What's going on?" he asked as the man led him out of the tent.
The nomad's reply was terse. "We leave this place."
Looking around, the hunter noticed that the women were busily striking the camp. Ponies were being loaded with most of the heavier items. Lighter burdens would be carried by the women who walked behind the traveling warriors. Goovon saw the tall figure of Crill making his way over to their position.
"His feet are still too bloody to walk," the war chief told Goovon's guard. "He will be placed on a pony and you will lead it like a pack horse. If he tries to escape, he will travel the rest of the way on foot as before." The nomad turned to face his prisoner. "We go to speak to Silar the Great, himself. If he likes your plan then all you have asked for will be granted. If not, I will personally see that you take at least a week to die." The cruel warrior turned on his heels and stalked away. A shiver ran down Goovon's spine. Suddenly his knees were almost too weak to allow him to remain standing.
Within a half hour, the camp was struck and the procession was moving out in a southerly direction. The warriors went first, led by Crill. Goovon's pony was led by the last in this procession. Behind him came the women on foot, each one leading a pack horse. Nomad women hardly ever rode a pony. Most of them didn't even know how. The reason for this was simple. Many of them were captives and their inability to ride ponies made escape that much more difficult.
Goovon sat his pony with his hands tied in front where he could grasp the pommel. At first, his eyes darted around, trying to note the route they took. The farther away from the crater they went, the less interested he became in their whereabouts. He wasn't about to run away anyway, for he was certain that he would be easily recaptured if he did so. He would just have to put his faith in convincing the nomad Chieftain about the merits of his plan.
Chan's patience while waiting in a blind was truly amazing. Kit looked over at the nomad's handsome features. Many things about this particular man were mystifying. He talked very little about himself while in camp even though he seemed very garrulous.
"Chan," the boy asked hesitantly, "something about you is very puzzling. You were raised a nomad and yet you speak our language very well. Helvon, on the other hand, was originally from a crater and he butchers the language horribly. Where did you learn to speak so well?"
The nomad sat there for several minutes, staring out of the blind at a trail which led down to a waterhole. At about the time that Kit had decided that his question was going to be ignored, the man spoke in a low voice.
"My mother was a captured Eagle Rider from a distant crater. She was a woman of excellent breeding and very beautiful with flame red hair and green eyes. She taught me many things while I was still young enough to remain in her care. I reasoned, correctly, that knowledge of your dialect might come in handy for a warrior who might find himself in battle outside of a crater. She told me much about the Eagle Riders as well. She had been an eighth generation Rider and was proud of their traditions. Of course, she never taught me to read their signals. That would have amounted to treason but just knowing that the maneuvers were signals was enough to enable me to guess the meanings of many of them.
"Other things that she taught me, such as manners and customs, enabled me to penetrate McAllister crater and contact the traitor, Durabon. That, of course, was a dubious advantage as I wound up a cripple and an outcast as the result of that misbegotten adventure. She also taught me to appreciate children and gave me a hearty disdain for the cruelty that many of my people love to embrace. I have ever tried to conceal it but it turns my stomach to see how the average nomad treats his prisoners and even his own women. I made my women walk between camps, to mount them would invite unwanted criticism, but I always provided enough pack ponies to leave them lightly burdened.
"When I was captured at McAllister, I learned that many of the things that my mother had told me about your people are true. Your penchant for compassion is by no means a weakness. I believe that it makes you stronger in the long run. You have very few traitors, your leaders are obeyed without the use of fear and you fight like daemons to maintain your happy freedom from tyranny. I talked for hours with my guards and jailers while at McAllister. It improved my speech as well as my understanding of your customs. I am ever impressed with the caliber of your people but I could never be content with living cooped up inside some boring crater."
Kit chuckled. "I can't blame you for feeling that way. After being out in these mountains, I can see how you would miss them. A crater is safe and comfortable and I suppose that, for many, that is all they want. I, however, like to see new places and want some excitement in my life. I can see how you would feel the same way too. We are a lot alike. My mother was a sixth generation Eagle Rider."
The whispered conversation moved on in that vein. Kit told his new friend about his uncle's death and how it had embittered his grandfather against the Aerie and all it stood for. He went on to talk about visiting his mother's retired mount, Flower, and his own desire to become an Eagle Rider. The story of Fala's death had saddened the nomad and had prompted a similarly sad story of his own mother's demise. After a long silence, Kit told of his friend, Heron, and flying with him on Flash. The story of Heron's death and Flash's disappearance into the wi
ld caused Chan to fall silent for a long time in thought. Nearly ten minutes later, the nomad broke the silence of the blind once again.
"Nearly a week before I met you, I noticed a great eagle flying into the mountains from the direction of O'Malley crater. I know where O'Malley is for I fought there with my tribe. I made special note of him because of his tremendous size. Only one other have I seen of those proportions. That was the mount of the Eagle Rider, Piperon McAllister, who I met the day I was released from their crater. At first I thought it was he but then I noticed some minor differences in coloration." He turned his gaze from the game trail to Kit's astonished face.
"I made special note of the place where he settled down," he continued. "He has built himself an aerie some fifteen miles from this place. If your desire is to ride an eagle, perhaps you should get one of your own. You say that you are able to talk to eagles with your mind. What I do when I want something this badly is take it on my own. If I had no pony of my own, I would capture or steal one and train it myself. Could you not do the same?"
Kit's mind raced so that he almost became giddy. "A week before we met would have been a day or two after Flash was released at O'Malley. They thought he would starve himself to death. Do you think he is still alive?"
"Perhaps it is not your friend's bird," Chan suggested. "I know that most eagles die after their Rider does. My mother told me of it. This bird lives still, I am certain, for I have watched him kill and eat with my own eyes. Perhaps this is a wild eagle. Many such exist in the wild, descendants of birds from the Aeries at vanquished craters."
The next hour was spent in silent meditation. Finally, their stand paid off. A pair of zorbeasts came wandering down towards the waterhole. The two hunters lifted their crossbows and dispatched the animals almost simultaneously and without a word. Chan had already become a competent shot with the new Ganton model and it had become his weapon of choice. Kit's skill with the new crossbow had already surpassed anything he had been able to do with Suron's old weapon. For that reason, he was automatically assigned the duty of killing the rearmost beast, cutting off retreat for the leader on the narrow trail below them.
Soul of an Eagle Page 13
