Exodus: The Windwalker Archive: Book 3 (Legends of Agora) (12 page)

Is strange for me, to imagine the boy shaking hands with kings. I saw much of his life, years ago, but never did I understand how the very heavens would seem to move for him. He once thought himself cursed. I disagreed then, and I disagree now. If anything, he is blessed. Princesses ally themselves with him. Queens gift him with fine weapons. And kings seek to employ him. Ever does the boy amaze me.

-Gretzen Spiritbone

“Mount up!” Han told the men.

Soon the many silver hawks were leaping from the glade and rising into the clear blue sky. Talon spurred his mount, and she too took to the sky, leaping high and extending long wings that took them over the treetops with but a few beats. As they rose higher and higher still, Talon felt the urge to cry out, both in terror and excitement. He soared over the land on the back of the silver hawk, barely able to breathe against the wind, and clutching the reins with white-knuckled fists. He gave a cry when Brightwing barrel-rolled with the others. Had it not been for the thick saddle strap, he would have surely fallen to his death.

Brightwing soon leveled out, however, and the hawks moved into a diamond formation. Han flew to Talon’s right, looking very much amused by Talon’s excitement.

“How are you faring?” the man yelled against the wind, and Talon barely heard what he said.

“This is amazing!” Talon yelled.

Han gave a laugh and blew a whistle twice. The silver hawks responded by climbing higher, until they had burst through the thin clouds hanging overhead.

Talon marveled at the view. The land stretched out for miles in all directions. He saw rivers, forests, and valleys, as well as distant towns and villages. Ever the ocean could be seen back the way they had come. From his vantage point, everything looked so small that Talon was humbled. Fields covered the land in neat, square patterns, and even the largest of the villages appeared to be tiny. The people moving about within were hardly recognizable, and seemed to Talon like ants. He thought then that this must be how the gods view the world.

He followed the group steadily west for many hours, and when the sun began to set behind them, Lake Eardon loomed before them, stretching nearly all the way to the distant horizon. So large was it that Talon might have thought it an ocean had he not known his geography.

They flew over the lake as darkness found the world. Stars blazed to life in the clear sky, so many that Talon was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all. The moon soon joined them, illuminating the waters below with silver light. As they reached the island, Han used his whistle once more. At the command, the silver hawks’ feathers returned to their natural color.

At the center of Belldon Island, a large castle loomed over the surrounding city. Its spiraling towers jutted from the high battlements, reaching many stories above the wide wall.

Han led the group to the courtyard at the center of the castle grounds, and one by one the silver hawks touched down. Talon surveyed the surrounding castle as Brightwing landed among the others. Seeing the high towers from the ground was even more impressive than from on high.

A group of ten guards met them in the courtyard, and many eyes fell on Talon.

“I see that you have found the elusive Windwalker,” said the most decorated of the men.

“Inform the king that he is here. He will be eager to meet with our new guest.”

The soldier’s eyes lingered on Talon, sizing him up. Apparently he wasn’t much impressed by what he saw, for he sneered slightly before turning with a smart click of his heels and marching off.

Talon was escorted by Han and the others through an open-aired walkway. They came to a large iron door that opened as they approached, and stepping through the threshold, Talon was amazed yet again by the grandeur of the castle, which made Vaka Kastali look like a shack.

They waited silently outside the audience chamber of the king of Shierdon, until finally the doors opened, and a man in crimson robes beckoned them forth. The audience chamber was longer than it was wide, and lined on both sides with benches, some twenty in all. At the other end of the room was a raised dais with a large throne that looked to be made of pure silver. A man who looked to be in his early twenties sat upon the throne, and perked up when Talon was led to stand before him.

“The infamous Talon Windwalker,” said the king. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I am King Donarron.”

Talon said nothing. He did not bow; he did not so much as blink. He stared down the man who had sold Akerri, wanting to slit his throat.

“You will bow before the king,” said the guard who had led him in.

Talon ignored him, to the amusement of the king.

“You look as though you would like to slit my throat,” said Donarron. “I cannot say that I blame you. Surely you are sore about my sale of Akerri to Fylkin.”

Talon felt his nostrils flare, and hot anger making his ears red.

“Why did you sell her to that monster?” Talon asked.

“I have been negotiating with Timber Wolf Tribe since my father died two years ago. We have nearly come to an agreement on a new peace treaty, but Chief Winterthorn of Timber Wolf Tribe has proven a stubborn one. The other six tribes have agreed to the treaty, under the condition that the decision is unanimous. However, Winterthorn continues to hold out. I gave Akerri to his son Fylkin in an attempt to sway his decision in my favor. He promised that he would sign the treaty if I gave up the girl, but alas, he has gone back on his word.”

“What do you want from me?” Talon asked.

King Donarron grinned. “I want you to kill Winterthorn and his son. I want you to help your father to become chief of Timber Wolf Tribe, and then I want him to sign the treaty.”

“Help Kreal?” said Talon, shocked. “I’ve never even spoken to my father, and you want me to fight alongside him against Winterthorn?”

“I’m sure that can be remedied. Your father is a perfect candidate. He is well respected among the other Vald, and he saved the entire island from the frozen plague sixteen years ago. I believe that the two of you can accomplish this task.”

“I just want Akerri back,” said Talon. “If you cannot help me with that, then we have nothing more to speak about. I would like my things, and I would like to leave.”

“You have not heard my offer, young Windwalker,” said the king. “Not only will I help you to get her back, but I will help you to liberate the Skomm.”

Talon was speechless. Seeing this, the king grinned and added, “Or you can leave now. The choice is yours.”

“How can I trust you?” Talon asked.

“Unlike Chieftain Winterthorn, I am a man of my word,” said Donarron.

Talon considered the offer, which was tempting. Still, he dreaded the prospect of speaking to Kreal. His father would never go along with such a plan…or would he? Amma Gretzen often said that Kreal had wanted nothing more than to challenge Winterthorn, though he lacked a strong heir, which was a requirement for such a challenge.

“Even if you help to free my people, where would we go?”

“Have you ever heard of Eldon Island?” Donarron asked.

Talon tried to picture the map of Agora that Gretzen had somehow gained possession of long ago. “It is a small island south of Eldalon, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, and do you know who owns it?”

“You do,” said Talon, becoming excited.

“Indeed. I purchased it from the king of Eldalon a year ago. Eldon is a mostly barren island, much like your Volnoss. But I have no doubt that your people could flourish there in peace.”

Excitement washed through Talon as he imagined such a thing. It seemed as though all of his wishes were being answered. Still, he told himself to tread cautiously.

“You wish for me to help my father to become Chief so that you might have your precious treaty. Why then would you help the Skomm escape? Surely liberating the slave class is not a part of this treaty of yours.”

“You need not worry yourself with such questions. Once you have freed your people, what do you care what happens to the Vald?”

The king was right. Why did Talon care what his motives were? If there was really a chance that Talon could help free the Skomm, while at the same time providing them with a new home, he had to take it.

“I will help my father defeat Winterthorn, but only after Akerri has been freed. I believe that your hawk riders will come in quite useful in that regard.”

“Then we have a deal?” the king asked.

“I believe that we do,” said Talon.

Donarron rose from his throne, and everyone in attendance bowed before him. This time, Talon joined them. The king walked down the steps leading from the dais and stood before Talon, extending his hand.

“I look forward to our alliance.”

“As do I,” said Talon, shaking the king’s hand. “Now that we have come to an agreement, may I have my possessions back?”

The king looked from Talon to Han. “Of course,” he said, looking as though he had just thought of something. “I would love to see your spirit wolf!”

I see him sailing high above the clouds. He wears a cloak of sky-blue feathers. What are these fevered dreams?

-Gretzen Spiritbone

Talon flew high above Belldon Island, feeling like the most powerful Skomm that ever lived. Han flew overhead and coerced his silver hawk into a dive. Talon spurred Brightwing, and she followed the other hawk in a dive-bomb of the highest tower.

They had been at it for two days. Luckily, Talon took to flying quickly, and Brightwing took to him sooner than Han had ever seen. Or so he said.

The main weapon of the hawk rider was the bow and arrow; which Talon had never shot before. Therefore, Han equipped him with a crossbow, which, while slower to load, was more powerful than a bow.

Talon doubted that he would have much use for either weapon, intending mainly to use the silver hawk to ferry Akerri far away from the dark elf once he had relieved her of the controlling crystal.

The king had offered the help of his silver hawk unit—which turned out to be the most elite fighting force in the Shierdonian army.

Han’s silver hawk landed in the courtyard, and the man dismounted skillfully, handing off the reins to a handler.

“How was that for a ride?” Han yelled through cupped hands as Talon landed.

“Ace!” Talon yelled, beaming.

He slid down Brightwing’s wing and hit the ground with a strut.

“Hah! This one thinks that he’s a natural,” Han said with a laugh.

“Brightwing seems to have taken a liking to me, as you said.”

Han walked with him back to the barracks, where the silver hawk riders had their own small fortress, equipped with a perch for the birds.

“Han?” Talon began, wondering for a moment whether he should mention what was on his mind.

“What is it, lad?”

“Did…did you know that Akerri’s Vald family name was Brightwing?”

Han stopped dead and looked to him as though Talon might be playing a trick on him. “Is that the truth?”

Talon nodded.

“Well,” said Han, looking as though the idea were a marvel one. “It seems as though your stars are in play here. I knew no such thing. That bird was named a good two years ago. I brought it along to ferry you back because her rider died a few months back. Gods bless.”

“What was his name?” Talon asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

“
Her
name was Orchid. I believe it is derived from an elven flower. Though she was no flower. I’ve never seen a more dedicated or fearless rider.”

A shiver passed down Talon’s spine, and he caught a fleeting sense of a higher power at work. With effort, he shrugged it off.

“How long have the hawk riders been in service to the kingdom?” he asked, hoping to forget his disturbing thoughts.

“Only three years now. It took a long time to find people who could fight, as well as handle the stresses of flying,” said Han, turning to Talon with a smirk. “Not everyone takes to it so easily.”

Talon shrugged. “Perhaps it is because I spent so many days imagining flying away from Volnoss like a bird.”

“Perhaps,” said Han.

He opened the door to the barracks, and they were met with raucous laughter. It looked as though half the hawk riders were in the midst of an intense poker hand.

“Hey, Windwalker, you wanna play?” one of them yelled.

Talon looked to Han, who was getting a better look at the pot.

“Now don’t be pissing away all of your pay,” the general told the men. He turned to Talon. “Do you play?”

“I’ve been known to, mostly in the commons,” said Talon, thinking of Tyson and the others and the one night they shared in comfort at the inn.

“Well then, join in. It isn’t often the boys get a night off, and they tend to throw ‘em back when they do.”

Just then, someone handed Talon what it was they had been “throwing back.” He took a drink and nearly spit it out.

“Wha…what is this stuff?”

“That there be what all the initiates drink. Tastes like dragon piss, eh?” said the young man.

Talon had noticed that most of the hawk riders were in their twenties or younger. All but Han, who Talon figured was at least fifty.

“Name’s Flick,” said the young man, offering a hand.

Talon shook it, noting the firm grip.

“Talon, nice to meet you, Flick.”

“Enjoy yourself,” said Han. “Get to know the other riders. I’ve business to attend to.”

“Thanks, General,” said Flick before putting an arm around Talon’s shoulder and guiding him toward the poker table. “Hey men! Look who decided to join the party.”

The other riders were in between hands, and the one who had been shuffling the cards got up and strode around the table. All eyes watched as he stopped and stood before Talon, sizing him up with a smirk.

The man, whom Talon knew to be Haze, was slightly shorter than Talon. He was muscled and lean, with knotted round shoulders and thick forearms dark with thick hair. A short, well-kempt beard added to his older appearance.

“You think that because you have a magic ring and a ghost wolf, you can just walk in here and become a hawk rider?”

Haze said it with a smile, which confused Talon.

The room went silent as the other riders waited for Talon’s reply.

“I’m not trying to become a hawk rider. I’m just trying to help my people.”

Haze picked his teeth with his tongue and glanced around at the others. “You’re learning to ride a hawk,” he said and looked back at Talon. “Doesn’t that make you a hawk rider?”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“That’s right, there is a
lot
more to it than that. We train for years. We have to forge a bond with our birds, but you walk in here and bond with Orchid’s mount in mere days? What kind of dark magic you working here?”

“Dark magic? I’m not—”

Haze produced a dagger so quickly that Talon didn’t know it until it was pressed up against his neck. When the blade pressed against his flesh, Talon became suddenly paralyzed. He tried to back away, but found himself unable to even blink.

A slow smirk crossed Haze’s face. “You’re not the only one with elven weapons. Now, tell me what your game is, or I’ll slit your throat.”

“The Fated Blades are not to be used against other riders…ever!” said one of the riders behind Talon.

“He’s not a rider,” said Haze. “He’s a godsdamned runaway Skomm with one too many toys. He doesn’t deserve them, let alone Orchid’s Hawk!”

Talon summoned Kyrr’s power, letting it build within him before finally releasing it all in a massive attempt to move against the spell blade. He began to tremble and then shake, and Haze’s eyes went wide.

“What are you doing?” he said, pressing the flat end of the blade harder against Talon’s neck.

Kyrr responded to Talon’s will, breaking the spell over him and giving him back his body. In a flash he had Haze by the wrist and turned it back, before twisting and ripping the blade away with the other hand. Talon pushed off and spun, bringing the blade to bear before Haze’s astonished face.

The riders watched, stunned.

Talon eyed them all slowly before flipping the knife and handing it back to Haze, handle first. “I’m not trying to force myself into your group. And I’ve got no spell over Brightwing.” He squared on Haze, whose eyes darted to the dagger. When Haze took back the dagger, Talon took off his vest and tossed it to the side. He then pulled off his shirt, exposing his dozens of whip marks and other scars. Talon’s body was a collection of scar tissue over lean muscle—a roadmap of pain.

Haze’s eyes widened all the more.

“If you want to have a row then let’s have at it, here and now,” said Talon before pulling the figurine from his pocket and summoning Chief.

Blue light exploded from the figurine, and a snaking smoke wound around Talon twice before coming to form on his right. Chief glowed and sparkled, cocking his head up at Talon and then growling at Haze.

“You with your magic trinkets, and me with mine. I’ll take on every last one of you.”

The riders all took a collective step back, some producing weapons. Others simply stared, eyes glued to Chief, showing both amazement and fear. Talon noticed that one off to his right held a crossbow, and he mentally prepared himself to use Haze as a shield.

“Whoa,” said Haze, holding up empty hands. “You don’t want to do something stupid.”

“You put an enchanted blade to my throat. I think that this is very much an intelligent move,” said Talon, hands inches from the twin daggers on his hips.

It was time for Haze to put up or shut up, and everyone knew it. He gulped, eyes darting around the room, body rigid and unmoving. He licked his dry lips, and his eyes traveled over Talon’s many scars, the daggers on his belt, and finally, Chief.

“Well hells!” Haze said, suddenly bursting with laughter. “Maybe you have the makings of a hawk rider after all!”

There was a short pause, but soon the hawk riders joined their leader in a laugh and sheathed their blades.

Talon relaxed but watched Haze closely, not knowing what to think. Chief stood beside him rigidly. The low growl had stopped, but his hair still stuck straight up along his spine.

Seeing Talon’s reluctance to trust him, Haze reached out a hand. “On my honor. This matter is settled. I apologize for attacking you.”

Talon knew that Haze was saving face, still, he had won the battle of wills, and he found no reason to press the issue further. He shook Haze’s hand, putting a little bit of Kyrr behind the grip, which caused Haze to wince slightly, though the smile never left his face.

“Apology accepted,” said Talon, releasing his hand. “Now how about some shots!”

The riders cheered to that, and Flick tossed Talon his shirt, shaking his head and grinning all the while. Haze headed up the cheer to “the new rider,” and tossed a drink back with vigor. Talon watched him all the while, knowing that it wasn’t over between them.