Chapter 41
Sirrsi’s cry woke Kestrel sometime around midnight, her anguish shivering through her as if it were her own. She rose to awaken Dondorian and Caussara, her distress muffled in the sleeping pelts.
“Great-father, Treaty Falls lies in ruins,” she said, shaking his shoulder.
“What’s this you say?” Dondorian gruffed, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Great-father, my companion woke me with cries of alarm and images of charred buildings and smoldering farmlands.” Kestrel tried to rein in her voice as she told Dondorian what Sirrsi related to her.
But before she finished, he was out the back of the wagon to rouse his scouts. She sat on the edge of the pallet with her great-mother, waiting for her great-father, the clan’s Harskare, to return and Sirrsi to arrive in camp. There was little they could do right now. It was the middle of the night and for the wagons, more than a day’s journey to Treaty Falls.
Dondorian carried a small hooded lantern when he re-entered the wagon. “I’ve sent scouts off on our fastest horses, but I fear there is little to be done.” His shrewd gaze flicked between his life-mate and his great-daughter. When he spoke again, Kestrel could hear the reservation in his voice.
“When last we saw you, great-daughter, you were just gaining the privilege of scouting outside the perimeter of the camps during the festival and still not allowed to go into town without accompaniment.” The large man paused as he grappled with emotions Kestrel understood only in part. “Yet now here you are, companion to one of the most mythical creatures known to the races.” His voice seemed to swell a bit with pride as he said, “You have traveled halfway across this continent twice. You have traveled the Dragon Paths. And maimed the despicable weaver that killed your mother.”
“But I…” Kestrel started, but her great-mother’s hand on her arm quickly silenced her and her great-father, the Harskare of the Thorn-Wolf Clan, continued. “I know there is little I could do or say or that I should do or say to stop you from the path the fates have set for you. So I need you and your companion to undertake a task for the clan.”
Dondorian swallowed hard and Kestrel felt certain she knew what he would ask of her. Her mind once more touched on an image from one of her dream visions. In it she flew upon Sirrsi’s back toward a horizon that smoldered with danger.
A feeling of anger and fear flowed through her in waves as she thought of the image. She rallied her spirit as she remembered her friends and allies on their way to help the dragon kind and knew she could do no less for the people of Treaty Fall, many she had known for years.
Kestrel steeled herself and looked into Dondorian’s eyes, ready to do whatever he required. His face right down to his posture spoke of the distress he felt over the situation in Treaty Falls and his disquiet over sending her. But her great-father must have seen in her eyes what he wanted to see.
Dondorian nodded slightly. “Find the scouts I sent and let them know you will be ahead of them. Make haste then to Treaty Falls. Be careful when you get close enough to be spotted or if you see anything suspicious.” He smiled encouragingly and reached out, squeezing her hand. “I know you have the skill.”
He chuckled. “Just between you and me and the spotted horse we traded in Four Corners, I count you among our best. Although if not for the expediency needed, I would have kept you with us for a while longer.”
Kestrel nodded, unsure what to say. She felt warm with the praise. From her great-father such words were welcome approval, but from the clan Harskare, it was of the highest honor.
“You, my sweet great-daughter, are the only one with the clan that has had intimate dealings with the methods and madness of the academy weavers. Have care but espy what you can and if there are survivors and it is possible, slip to their sides and talk to them. Find out who the enemy was and where they head… whoever they are.”
The pulse along Kestrel’s jaw drummed in her head. She tried to relax, not realizing how much tension she held until that moment. Stretching her arms together over her head, she yawned. If she was going to fly with Sirrsi, she needed to be as limber as possible.
She could have kicked herself for not having ridden Sirrsi since they came upon the caravan. Her time with her companion, riding through the night skies, was special. But it was harder than it looked and many times she felt somewhat detached from what happened below.
Sirrsi stood to her back as Kestrel listened to Dondorian’s last instructions. In his hands, he carried a harness. It looked much like the one she held, fashioned of the horse’s harnesses and a pair of saddlebags, only… only… better, like what she envisioned had come to life.
She tried to fight the delight she felt upon seeing the harness, but couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. Impulsively, she embraced her great-father. He hugged her back, but soon disengaged himself and handed her the harness, then stepped aside. Her great-mother stepped forward. Folded in her hands was her special traveling cloak.
She remembered seeing her great-mother wear the cloak only twice. Each time it was a momentous occasion proceeding Caussara and Dondorian leaving the clan on business she was told was none of hers. Now Caussara handed it to her.
“But Great-Mother, it is your special traveling cloak. I can’t!”
She grinned and winked at her. “Why yes, yes it is. And yes you can. For you are special and have a lot of traveling to do from the sounds of it. So,” she said, brushing her hands together in a symbolic gesture. “It is perfect for you along with these. Even with your skill with a bow, sometimes you need something close and personal.”
Caussara slipped a thin, finely tooled leather belt from about her waist and buckled it around her great-daughter’s. Kestrel reached for her great-mother’s hand, but the older clanswoman intercepted the gesture, guiding her great-daughter’s hand to the buckle.
As Kestrel grasped the buckle, she stopped. Taking her hand away, she looked down, her fingertips gently tracing the fine filigree of metal in the shape of a flying hawk. Her brows drew together and she blinked in disbelief.
“What is this, Great-Mother? I have never seen these.” She looked into the fathomless green of her great-mother’s eyes. “They feel… old, ancient and yet they look like they have never been used.”
“Draw a blade, girl,” her great-father said.
Kestrel did as she was told. The dark metal of the dagger came to a thorn sharp point a man’s hand span from the hilt. She turned it in the torchlight, examining the workmanship of the blade. So finely tooled, the eye could mistake it for a long thorn. The depth of the metal gleamed in the firelight.
As she looked at the hilt, her brows drew together in confusion. The hilt looked like nothing less than a leafed branch and on one side, the silhouette head of a howling wolf looked out, and on the other, a hawk stared out in defiance.
“How?” she asked, looking up at her great-parents.
Caussara smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. “Long ago.” She shook her head. “This is not the time for my long-winded stories. Suffice to say, I knew they would come in handy someday. And after you told me how you used a thorn on your attacker, I knew that someday had come.
“Oh,” was all Kestrel could think to say. She lay the harness and cloak on the night-wet grass and unbuckled the cloak she wore. It was the last one Moira made for her. Although it wasn’t as spacious as it used to be, and too short by a long finger length, she ached inside at the thought of giving it over. She tucked the hood inside and folded it before rolling it as tight as she could. Stuffing it in her pack, she nodded to herself, sure she would need it later.
The leather folds of her great-mother’s travel cloak fell to the tops of her calves as she buckled the clasp at its neck. Kestrel couldn’t help stroke the softness of the leather. She looked up at her great-mother, only to realize she now stood as tall as her. She smiled her pleasure.
Her great-father and great-mother embraced her one last time and she picked up the harness. But Caussara stopped her with a hand on her arm. “The cloak is spelled against weather and bugs,” she said with a chuckle. “And if discretion is necessary, you will find this has an uncanny ability to blend in with surroundings.”
Kestrel nodded and turned to go, but turned back and asked with a grin. “Marley’s work, by any chance?”
“Indeed it is,” Dondorian said. “Now, don’t take any unnecessary risks and come back to us soon.”
Sirrsi winged across the night sky relentlessly, and once more Kestrel wished she had not neglected to ride the yanzul to keep in practice. Her muscles tiring, she couldn’t imagine how her companion must feel. She flattened herself out on Sirrsi’s back, closing her eyes to a stinging wind gusting from the west. The scent of smoke and spent wood tainting the breeze.
The clan scouts are below to the left. I will get ahead of them and land.
Kestrel’s eyes snapped open and she realized she had dozed. “That’ll be perfect,” she said into the wind.
Sirrsi landed and her head swiveled around to look Kestrel in the face, her voice in Kestrel’s mind a soft purr. I am glad you rested, for I fear it may be your last for a time, child.
You may be right, but I am not the one carrying me, Kestrel replied in mind-speak.
No worries there, my limits will not be reached today.
Kestrel felt Sirrsi’s muscles bunch beneath her legs as the two horses approached. But she relaxed when Kestrel assured her she had known the two since childhood. With a wave, she dismounted, hoping she appeared more graceful than she felt. No one said anything until they were close enough to talk quietly.
“What are you doin’ out here, Thorn?” Belac asked, sliding from his saddle.
She grinned at the use of her new nickname, noticing he looked glad of the break. Another time she would have traded jibs with them, but not today. “Harskare Thorn-Wolf sent me to circle above Treaty Falls as close as I can. Then I’ll wait for you on the southwestern edge of the burnt area.”
Both nodded their agreement. She felt honored that they accepted Dondorian’s trust in her without questions. The second rider offered her his water flask. She smiled her acceptance, remembering her own still hung from Sirrsi’s harness. Kestrel glanced over her shoulder at her companion laying in the long grass resting. Although the scouts talked to her, they were staring at her owly friend. She remembered her own awe and fear upon seeing Sirrsi and chuckled to herself, realizing she still felt pretty awestruck.
“We’ve kept an eye for fires, but have seen nothing since we left the wagons. Belac there,” he said nodding toward his friend, “he has a talent for sensing spent essence from weaves within a couple furlongs and I have a pretty keen sense of smell. But again, we are without clues,” the rider with the flask said.
Kestrel, brought back to the present by his words, considered what they told her before she spoke. “Both Sirrsi and I agree with your assessment.” She paused for a moment, hoping they would not think her theory held merit only because of who her great-father was, nor think less of it because of her youth and inexperience.
“I believe the lack of clues is a clue. We know they have not come this way. Our senses tell us that. And we know they came not from the west, that is ours, to the Grieving Cliffs and the Straits of Ranna. There are no academy footholds there. That leaves the north and the east.” She blurted out, not giving herself the chance to reconsider.
Both riders nodded and mounted up. Kestrel turned to head back to the yanzul, but Belac stopped her with a bird whistle the scouts used to signal one of their own was close.
She glanced back at him as he spoke. “That was a solid bit of reasoning back there, Thorn. Glad to have you and your friend with us.” He reined his horse out a bit to circle Sirrsi, before letting him have his head. Kestrel marveled at the sheer power and stamina of their theracan mounts as they rode away.
Sirrsi was ready and crouched so she could mount. Once comfortable, the yanzul was off the ground and outdistanced the galloping horses in short order.
Showoff, Kestrel mind-spoke as she looked down and back to see the horses recede behind them.
Their mounts are swift, if I do not outdistance them now, we will be sore pressed to pass over the town area before the scouts and the light catch us. Look ahead, child. Even from here, the light and shadow become distinct.
Kestrel sighed and looked to the east, wishing she and her companion could run the Dragon Paths like her dragonkin friends. She spent the time trying to discern something of what had happened by reading the essence remaining. But it wasn’t long before they were nearing the outskirts of Treaty Falls.
The smoke stung their eyes as they circled in low, landing behind the burnt-out shell of a barn. She slid off Sirrsi’s back and smiled to herself, realizing the boon of communicating with her companion without lifting her voice.
Stay low and out of sight. We didn’t see any of the attackers from above, but that big beautiful black hide of yours might stand out a bit in the daylight. Kestrel gave the yanzul an affectionate pat on her shoulder.
You going alone sets not well with me at all, wounded boy or not. We do not know what lurks within this town’s ruins. What we saw from above may differ from what you will find slipping through the shadows.
Kestrel sighed. Your misgivings are noted, but I have my new cloak to help me hide and my new daggers to help protect me. I will look for the boy. And if I haven’t found him by the time the sun is halfway to midday, I will let you know and look for my clansmen. They will surely be here by then.
Child, you are blessed with a shining fierceness, but have a care. This place bears the taint of spirit stones and corrupt essence. Can you not feel it? The yanzul blinked twice with her large golden owly eyes.
Is that the murky heaviness I feel? Kestrel asked.
She pulled out her bow, strung it, then slipped it and the quiver over her shoulder. On impulse, she turned and flung her arms 1around the animal’s feathered neck. Hugging her, she whispered. “Fear not, I will take care. Now hide and rest, you had a long night.”
The yanzul sat back on her haunches, a mighty creature in truth. She did not blink nor did she use mind-speak, but sat staring at her. Finally, after a time long enough for Kestrel to feel chastised, Sirrsi got up and turned with a swish of her tail to walk into the woods east of the town.
Kestrel rolled her eyes and shook her head. The fire did not touch the woods to the east of town, the deep green of hardwoods in tinandra leaf and the sense of old within the pine were there, but she felt darkness radiating from the forest. Darkness that felt hungry.