Sky Rider

by Terry Mancour

  The tone in Sire Cei’s voice was serious in a way that told Dara he had come to some decision.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should have done two months ago. I will instruct the Master of Westwood Hall to cooperate fully with the Hawkmaiden, for the good of the domain. That includes releasing your funds to you, selling you the materials you need to complete the mews, and removing any constraints on the speedy construction.”

  Instead of being happy about the pronouncement, Dara frowned. “My father isn’t going to like that,” she warned.

  “We all do a great many things that we do not like, Dara. Your father may not appreciate the value of a mews in his estate, or considers it a mere indulgence for his ennobled daughter, but it is important to Sevendor, I see now,” he said, nodding toward Frightful. “The Magelord entrusted you with this task for a reason. You are uniquely qualified to see this project to its conclusion. Perhaps he did not anticipate the difficulties you would have – or perhaps he did. The Magelord is a man of deep thought, though he professes the opposite.

  “Regardless, whether your father considers this important or not, I do, now. I am certain I can convince him that it is in Sevendor’s best interest to cooperate. Your father is a proud man, but he understands his duty,” Sire Cei said, approvingly. “But before I have that conversation,” he continued, “I would encourage you to discuss the situation with your father. And be forthcoming about your motivations, now that this secret isn’t particularly secret, anymore. I think you will find him a bit more understanding, once he understands the importance of your mission.”

  “You think he will?” Dara asked, skeptically. “Perhaps you do not know my father—”

  “Dara, in my years of overseeing estates and manors as castellan, I have seen few men who could match your father’s wisdom and patience, nor his understanding of his duty. The Master of the Wood is not merely the yeoman in charge of the Westwood, he is the head of a great family, or a small people, depending upon how you look at it. He, as much as the Flame or even the Hawkmaiden, is responsible for the Westwood’s unique character. And explains much of why the Magelord has invested so much trust in the man . . . and your entire family.”

  “I never really understood that,” Dara admitted. “I mean, I suppose me being his apprentice had something to do with it . . .”

  “Not as much as you might think,” Sire Cei chuckled. “Feudal relationships are complicated, Dara. When Minalan came to Sevendor, he was searching for allies and wary of foes. He found plenty of both.

  “But when he examined the character of the men around him, I think he saw your father’s dedication to his people, not just the economic success of the manor, as worthy of note. He withstood the depredations of Sir Urantal, for instance. And he respected Minalan’s role as both lord and wizard skeptically, but with an open mind. Your emergence as Talented that fateful night only cemented the alliance Minalan was already proposing. Your family’s performance during the Warbird’s siege secured it. And you were rewarded with acclaim and the estate of Caolan’s Pass as a result.”

  “And now I’ve complicated that alliance by having a petty argument with my father,” Dara sighed, angry at herself.

  “No, you have actually strengthened it, my lady,” Sire Cei said, gently. “If one considers it in its proper perspective. For you are now a player on the board,” he informed her. “Not merely Master Minalan’s apprentice, but the Hawklady who is vassal to the Magelord. You are the only native nobility Sevendor has,” he reminded her. “Whether you know it or not, you are an important symbol to everyone in the vales.”

  “I didn’t save Sevendor from a dragon,” Dara countered.

  “Not yet,” Sire Cei smiled. “But glory in times of war is no substitute for wise governance in peacetime. Building a mews is just as daunting as fighting a dragon, in its way. The measure of a good lord is not in how many foes he’s slain on the field, or their nature, but in his steadfast defense of his lands in the first place. It is not in how many men he leads to battle, but how many healthy families he rules. It is Duin’s blessing that gives us strong men in times of crisis. It is Huin’s blessing which feeds them. It is Luin’s blessing that they are as wise as they are fierce.”

  “We Westwoodmen don’t much go for Narasi gods,” Dara reminded him.

  “Wisdom is wisdom, no matter your religion,” Sire Cei countered. “In time, Dara, your father and I will go to a pleasant dotage – yes, even the Spellmonger will grow old someday, gods willing. When our day is done, it will be your task to lead Sevendor. Part of our responsibility is ensuring that you are prepared to do so. Learning how to make peace with a yeoman after a dispute is part of that education. As is a daughter making peace with her father.”

  “That’s the part I don’t like,” Dara frowned.

  “We all do things we don’t like, Dara,” Sire Cei reminded her, gently. “Your father, you, Minalan, Festaran, Gareth, all of us must face our responsibilities, pleasant and unpleasant, with our duty in mind. Only the simplest of fools believes he can escape that fact. And you are not a fool. Neither is your father.”

  Dara allowed her frustration voice, for once; indeed, Sire Cei’s manner encouraged it.

  “But why does it have to be that way?” she asked, with a childish whine creeping into her voice despite herself.

  “Because the things we accept as our responsibilities are the things that give our lives their meaning,” the Dragonslayer explained. “And that is something that no one can live without.”

  Epilogue

  The Sky Riders

  Dara glided Frightful up the steep hill north of Caolan’s Pass and to the top of the ridge openly, and came to a graceful landing in the widest part of the road, where caravans were used to stopping while their masters paid their tolls before descending to Sevendor. Thankfully, the road was unoccupied, this early in the morning, and when Frightful’s massive talons bore their weight only a few goats and dogs were agitated by the sudden appearance of a giant Silver-Hooded Raptor.

  Dogs, goats, and a few men . . . including her father.

  Kamen was overseeing a few of the Westwood lads who were building a new stable behind the hall. They all stopped work and gawked at the sight, some clutching their tools protectively as they slowly approached the bird and its rider.

  “Dara?” her father called, uncertainly, as he stared at the wondrous sight.

  “Yes,” Dara acknowledged, as she slid from the Frightful’s feathered back. “And that’s Frightful. We’ve been . . . experimenting,” she explained.

  “Flame!” Kamen swore as he took in the sight. “I’d say you have! Did . . . are you . . . is this . . .”

  “Let’s just go inside for a moment,” Dara said, gently taking his arm. “I’ll explain everything. My mission was accomplished. I found Sir Festaran and his men, and they are returning with Kyre.

  “But first, I want to apologize,” she admitted. “Sire Cei is going to come to you and ask for you to support my mews. I want you to know that I did not invite that,” she said, proudly. “I was not inviting the Castle into the affairs of the Wood.” That was always a troublesome thing, according to the lore of the Westwood.

  Kamen snorted, finally ignoring the bird and staring at his daughter. “I wouldn’t think you would. I figured the Castle would intervene, sooner or later. I’m surprised Cei waited as long as he did.”

  “You aren’t upset?” she asked, surprised.

  “Me? Nay. I will do as my sworn lord commands and as duty instructs. I would not foreswear an oath made before the Flame.”

  “But you hate it when the castle gets involved!” she objected.

  “I do,” he agreed. “But there is a time for it. If Cei thinks this is the time, I will do as I am bid by the castellan.”

  “Oh. So . . . you’ll do it because Sire Cei says so, but not me,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

  “You are not my sworn lord, or his appointed officer,” h
e reminded her, sternly.

  “I’m a noble!”

  “If you want me to bow, just tell me,” grunted her father. “You earned it fairly. But a title does not make you superior to me by its virtue alone.”

  “It’s because I’m a girl!” Dara said, hotly.

  “It’s because you are not my master,” Kamen said, firmly, folding his arms over his chest. “The Master of the Wood must behave wisely, Dara. That’s our duty to the Flame and the Wood. We are free men, when others have traded their liberty for the bonds of villenage. We were free before the Narasi came, we will be free when they leave. As Master of the Wood, I must jealously guard every bit of our freedom from those who would take it. Including from the Magelord,” he emphasized.

  “Aren’t you and Master Minalan allies?” she asked, confused.

  “Aye,” Kamen agreed, cautiously. “Even friends, if you don’t want to be too particular. He’s done right by us, as we have by him. We’ve both profited and prospered as a result.”

  “Then why are you so worried about him? He’s not going to do anything to hurt the Westwood!”

  “And it’s my job to ensure that he doesn’t!” Kamen argued. “The Master of the Wood must always be wary of the whims of our lords. Even when they come to us smiling, bearing gifts, and enriching us. The folk of the Vale consider us suspicious and superstitious about our fair wood, but the truth is we tend the Flame and guard the Wood because it protects and provides for us – not any lord in a castle.

  “To let you dictate to me in my own hall where something should be built was unacceptable,” Kamen continued, as he escorted his daughter inside. “You are my daughter, noble or not. And a daughter of the Westwood, where my word is law,” he reminded her. “To let you flout my wishes without consequence would make me seem weak.”

  “No one thinks you are weak!” Dara said, rolling her eyes.

  “Because I don’t let anyone tell me what to do in my own hall, except my rightful lord and his officers performing their rightful duties,” he said, forcefully, as they took a seat at the trestle . . . the same one that had served as an operating table a few days ago, Dara realized. Or was that just yesterday? “To do so would have diminished the respect my own men have for me.”

  “They wouldn’t stop following you,” Dara pointed out.

  “But would they follow me because I have the title, or because I act as the Master?” Kamen countered. “When you are in charge of other people, Dara, you achieve far more when they follow your because they respect you. If you lose their respect, you also lose their best efforts. You see how Kyre is seen by his men?”

  “They love him and respect him,” Dara nodded. “As soon as he told them to prepare to go find Sir Festaran, they jumped to it.”

  Kamen nodded. “If you want to inspire that kind of effort, you must be the kind of leader who commands respect because of how you lead, not just because you have a title. Kyre does not brook any dissention in his men,” he explained. “Nor does he shirk his duties or responsibilities out of convenience or sloth. He enjoys their respect because he has their confidence. And he has their confidence because they know what to expect from him.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?” Dara asked, confused.

  “If I am commanded to allow you to build the mews by the castellan, that is a lord giving proper instruction to a yeoman. If I let you decided on your own that you are going to build a mews, against my wishes, then the folk of the Westwood will know that I can be challenged. By my youngest daughter, no less. They may not say a word about it, but they will know as surely as if it were said before the Flame,” he assured. “The issue was never truly about the mews, but about a challenge to my authority.”

  “So you don’t care if I build a mews?” Dara asked, still confused.

  “Oh, I care a great deal,” Kamen agreed, nodding fervently. “I think it’s a colossal waste of resources, it’s going to affect the work in the Wood, and it will bring yet-more strangers to our land. But if I am ordered to do it, I will do it, as troublesome as it is. But only if the lord of Sevendor commands it, not my daughter.”

  “Why does that make the slightest difference? Because you’re the Master of the Wood?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Minalan has his role. I have mine. You, Lenodara, have yet to find yours. You are not my master. And though we serve the same master, you have no authority in the Westwood. Until you are given authority, I will manage my estate as I see fit,” he said, defiantly.

  “And if I am given authority . . .?”

  “Then I will follow you as loyally as I follow the Magelord,” he assured her. “But that will only be a token. Minalan has earned my respect as a leader. In war and in peace. You have not. But you’re starting to,” he conceded.

  “I am?”

  “You challenged me, and didn’t run away, or try to get others to solve your problems,” he pointed out, just a proudly as he had asserted his own rights. “As the Master of the Wood I was angry. As a father, I was proud.”

  “You could be both?”

  “Fatherhood is a complicated thing, Dara,” he assured her with a chuckle. “I want you to be strong enough to assert yourself. I want you to be able to challenge adversity, even when it comes from me. I’ve tried to teach that to all my children. I was hardest on Kyre, not because he’s the eldest but because he’s a natural leader who will need to be tough to handle his responsibilities as Master of the Wood, someday. I am hard on Kran because he responds well to a challenge,” he said, speaking of Dara’s brothers. “I am hard on Kasdan because he’s much like Kyre, in some ways, and much like Kobb in others. I tried to be hard on Linta, but she’s too much like your mother. And I’m hard on Kobb because he's an idiot – just wait until you meet your new future sister-in-law,” he said, frowning.

  “But I was hard on you this summer because you’re a noblewoman and a wizard, now, and I have no idea what your life holds for you . . . but I’m certain the Flame won’t see it an easy one. Those aren’t the times we live in,” he said, sadly.

  Dara snorted. “It’s better than when Urantal ran Sevendor!”

  “For the moment,” he conceded. “But things change, Dara. Magelord Minalan has brought wonders and riches to Sevendor, but he also attracts enemies. I need my family to be strong and resilient enough to face them, at need. Else I court tragedy for the Wood. Do you know how hard it was to take my sons to war, let along my daughter? Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”

  “You were as brave as any knight at Cambrian!” she said, hotly.

  “You’re gracious to think so. But I wasn’t scared for me getting killed, Dara, I was scared for my children. If I could have kept you all away from that madhouse of a battlefield, I would have. Since I couldn’t, I tried to make you tough enough to handle it – and you did. But the next battlefield, Dara? The one after that? How can I protect you all from those? I can’t.

  “So I have to make my children strong enough to protect themselves. And that includes enduring them challenging my authority to teach them how to do so properly. Sometimes I find myself thinking fondly of the time when the worst I had to contend with was a corrupt tenant lord and an impetuous daughter,” he sighed.

  Dara took a moment to think about her father’s words – many of his points she hadn’t considered. She was starting to understand what a profound and terrible duty leadership could place on someone. And she realized she would have to assume some of that burden, soon, if she was going to expand the secret project to include other Sky Riders.

  “I appreciate that you tried to make me strong, Father,” she finally said, quietly. “And I appreciate that you did so without treating me so much like a little girl. I respect your authority as Master of the Wood,” she continued, “and I’m not trying to undermine it. I’m sorry if I made you feel as if I was.”

  “Now that I see that . . . incredibly large bird, I’m starting to understand,” he admitted. “She’s not as big as a dragon, I su
ppose, but if she can do to a goblin what she does to a hare . . . well, I see the usefulness of that. And why you were so determined to get your mews constructed before winter.”

  “I need to have it finished before mowing is done,” she corrected. “As it is, I’m going to have to purchase thatch in Sashtalia – that was what I was doing when that wounded man came in,” she reminded him.

  “You won’t have to do that, Dara,” he sighed. “I’ll reserve the bulk of the thatch from the south fields for you – at the manor’s expense. To make up for past difficulties.”

  “And I will move as quickly as I can to establish proper quarters and kitchens on the knob,” she pledged, “to keep the mews from becoming a drain on the hall.”

  Kamen snorted. “Dara, two falconers aren’t going to put a strain on the hall’s resources.”

  Dara looked at him, realizing that her father still hadn’t understood the full implications of Frightful’s transformation . . . or Dara’s plans.

  “Oh, there are only two falconers . . . now,” she agreed.

  ***

  The autumn sun beat down on the bright white knob as the new recruits took their positions outside of the Mewshall – that’s what they were calling the growing complex. Despite how new it was, it was already starting to feel crowded with the influx.

  “This is a falcon,” Dara began to lecture, after taking a deep breath. “It is one of the deadliest airborne predators on Callidore, for its size.” Frightful preened on her perch, enjoying the attention. Each of the recruits had been given their own hawk from the generously-supplied mews. For some of them – particularly the two Tal Alon recruits – the experience was as frightening as it was novel.

  But these were all well-trained birds, Dara knew, hand-picked by Master Arcor as the best hunters and the strongest fliers. The best suited for Transgenic Enchantment, too, from Lady Ithalia’s determination.