The Last Falcon: Book 1 of the Cael Stone

by Colleen Ruttan



  THE LAST FALCON

  Book 1 of the Cael Stone

  Colleen Ruttan

  Copyright © 2012 Colleen Ruttan

  Cover Design by

  Colleen Ruttan

  Map Design by

  Agathe Delange & Colleen Ruttan

  All rights reserved

  First Edition, June 2012

  978-1477570395 (trade paperback)

  978-0988134317 (Kindle version)

  978-0988134324 (ePub version)

  978-0988134331 (PDF version)

  To Stan

  CHAPTER 1

  "Don't let them catch you, Erynn."

  Erynn had no idea how much time had passed. She sat quietly in the dim light of the cave, her arms folded over her chest and her forehead on her knees; too scared to move in case she made a sound that drew the soldiers. She had climbed up the narrow tunnel as far as she could go, until she was sure they couldn't reach her, but now the rocks pressed in close all around her, their hard coolness making her shiver and their musty dampness filling her lungs until it seemed she couldn't breathe.

  She'd heard sounds before nightfall — the footsteps of soldiers searching for her and others arguing somewhere nearby — and a few more when light eventually trickled back up the cave. But then exhaustion had caught up with her and she'd drifted in and out of sleep for what seemed like hours. Something crawling over the back of her head finally woke her and reminded her that she didn't think she could handle another night in the cave. She knew she needed to leave, but still couldn't bring herself to move. It wasn't just the soldiers. She was too afraid of what else might be waiting for her outside.

  Then a twig snapped.

  "Erynn?" came a man's voice.

  Erynn raised her head. At first she thought maybe she was hearing things — her father's voice again — but then she glanced down at the mouth of the cave and saw the shadow of someone standing outside.

  "The soldiers are gone," the man said. "It is quite safe to come out."

  Erynn remained still, wondering if this was a trick. He didn't sound like one of the men — he actually sounded much older — but they could have heard her father say her name and she wasn't about to be fooled.

  "Erynn?" the man repeated a few moments later, this time sounding a little more concerned. "I assure you, I mean you no harm. Just want to help if I can."

  Erynn wasn't sure what to do. She still didn't think he sounded like one of the soldiers — in fact, there was something about his voice that almost seemed familiar, like a voice she could trust — but she remained wary. She couldn't let them catch her. Not after what they did. She sat in silence for a while longer, wondering if at some point he would give up and leave, thinking perhaps he'd made an error about someone hiding in the cave. And then something skittered across her foot and she barely stifled a scream. Now she couldn't help it. She had to get out of that cave. She just hoped she was right about what she heard in that voice.

  "Who — Who are you?" she called out, her own voice sounding somewhat hollow in the narrow cave.

  "Just a friend. Soren, if you would prefer a name. I heard the trouble with the dragon and thought someone might need help. I would have come sooner, but I am not as young as I used to be and needed to wait until the soldiers had gone."

  "How do you know my name?"

  A hand reached into the cave and set down a thick stack of parchments, all wrapped in an old leather case and bound with a strap.

  "I found these in the wagon. I thought they might have been searching for someone, and when I saw this, with the name on it, I took a look myself. I noticed your tracks and they lead me here. You write well, Erynn. Although, I must say if you are still hoping to see elves in Galia, you will probably be disappointed. I have seen more than a few over the years, but they do tend to prefer the warmer climates. You are more likely to see dwarves in these hills, even though we are still some miles from the mountains."

  Erynn started down the rocks toward the mouth of the cave, suddenly more annoyed that some stranger had been rifling through her journal than afraid he'd come to harm her. "Are my quill and ink still there?"

  "Yes, but those fine-looking horses are gone. They even took the two hitched to the wagon."

  Erynn came as close to the cave opening as she dared and snatched up her journal. Then she moved back out of reach in case he tried to grab her. She could see more of his cloak now, and a pair of old and wrinkled hands, but nothing else. She made a quick check of her journal, noticing her name at the top of the first entry, but everything seemed to be in order. "They weren't our horses. They belonged to King Wryden."

  "King Wryden? Of Alyria?" The man sounded surprised.

  "My father bought them for him in Cold Lake five days ago. For his breeding stock."

  "Why would the King of Alyria send someone all the way to Galia to buy horses?"

  Erynn remembered asking her father the same question before his last trip to Galia two years ago. Her mother was already starting to show signs of the illness that would eventually take her life and Erynn hadn't wanted him to go. "Because they're the best horses in all of Valentia. And my father has a friend here. He's bought horses from him before."

  "Unfortunately, it seems those soldiers must have agreed."

  Erynn closed her eyes, remembering the look on their leader's face. The fair-haired man with the limp and the jagged scars — one under his right eye that ran halfway down his cheek and the other on his chin. Her father had pleaded with him to just take the horses and let them be, but the man's eyes were hard and cold. It was when he dismounted and ordered them down from the wagon, slowly drawing his sword as he limped toward them, that her father told her to run. Part of her now wished she had — that she hadn't stopped and turned back.

  "Was it just the two of you?" the man asked.

  Erynn rubbed a hand across her face, trying to wipe away that last searing image. The one that had haunted her throughout the night: a flash of silver and her father collapsing to the ground — and in the background that horrible scream. "No. My friend's brother came with us. But he's gone. He left us in Cold Lake."

  "I see. And do you know where he is now?"

  "No. On his way to Ethlon. I don't know."

  "Have you traveled with your father before?"

  "A few times. But this was the first out of Alyria."

  The man was quiet, and then he bent over, bones creaking, and peered inside the cave. He appeared much older than Erynn had imagined from his voice, perhaps in his late sixties, with a dark grey beard and green eyes.

  "I am terribly sorry about your father, Erynn," he said.

  Erynn felt her throat go tight and she just nodded and looked away.

  The old man hesitated. "I wrapped him in one of the blankets from the wagon, but he needs a proper burial. Before the animals come. Do you think you can help me? I would rather not ask, but I doubt I can manage alone. And it would be best if we hurry. In case those soldiers return."

  Erynn wasn't sure why they'd bother. It was the horses they wanted and now they had them. But the old man's comment about the animals now had her worried. Going back to that road was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn't bear the thought of any animals touching her father. So she clutched the journal to her chest, hoping again that she could trust the old man and wasn't making a mistake, and crawled the rest of the way out of the cave.

  It was difficult to stand at first, her entire body stiff and sore, but Soren waited patiently and when she was ready, led her back through the trees. It was earlier than Erynn had expected, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but the air was cool.

  The
walk took longer than she remembered — so much so that she grew amazed she had even found the caves. All she remembered was running through the trees, half-blinded by tears and panic, with an odd buzzing in her ears and the low branches stinging as they slapped her face and snatched at her hair. She scanned the gaps between the trees as they walked, watching for any sign of the soldiers, and even looking up at the sky — half-expecting the dragon to swoop down at them. But all seemed still and quiet.

  "Krystalix is gone too," Soren said.

  "You saw him?" Erynn asked, not realizing he'd been watching her.

  "I did, but only briefly as he flew past."

  "Do you live nearby?"

  "Not far. I was actually out for a walk when I saw him."

  Erynn heard the dragon's scream in her mind again, a sound unlike any she had ever heard before. He had dropped out of the sky like a golden bolt of lightning — at almost the very same instant her father hit the ground — and had snatched one of the soldiers from his saddle and tore him in half right in front of her. Her father used to tell her stories about the dragons — stories that up until yesterday she had always loved — but they were nothing like seeing one for real. "I've never seen him before. Just in some drawings and paintings. A few books."

  "Not many do see the dragons these days. Not like they used to. Which is a shame. He tends to stay in Alyria, up in the mountains like most of them do, but I have seen him around here before."

  "My father said it was rare for dragons to attack people. Unprovoked, anyway."

  "Yes, I would say that is true."

  "Then I don't understand why he attacked. Those soldiers weren't bothering him."

  "I am sure he had his reasons, difficult as it is to understand them now. Perhaps he was trying to help you."

  Erynn wanted to tell him that if the dragon wished to help, he should have arrived a few seconds sooner, but she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. She was finding it hard to keep a handle on herself and was scared of what might happen if she did.

  Ahead of her, Soren stopped. They had reached the road.

  "How old are you, Erynn?" he asked, his voice quiet.

  "Fourteen."

  He sighed. "Far too young to have witnessed such violence."

  At least a half-dozen men lay dead on the road, their bodies bloodied and ripped apart by the dragon. Among them, looking very much alone, stood her father's wagon, the two old geldings that had pulled it now gone and their clothes and other belongings scattered nearby. Her father still lay in the same spot she saw him collapse, but was now wrapped in a dark blanket. The same dark blanket he had slept under every night of their trip.

  Tears rose to Erynn's eyes.

  "Can you find a good place while I fetch the spade?" Soren asked. "I noticed one in the wagon."

  Erynn nodded, but seconds passed before she finally turned away. She searched along the roadside until she found a suitable spot to bury her father — a fairly open and sunny area between the trees — and when Soren returned they each took turns with the spade. When they were finished, they used the dark blanket to carry her father's body across the road and lower him into the grave. It took several minutes, and was by far the hardest thing Erynn had ever done or — or even imagined she would do — but she knew she had no choice. The alternative was just not something she could bear.

  "Rest now, Erynn," the old man said when it was over. "I can finish."

  He motioned for the spade, but Erynn shook her head. She wasn't finished yet. She started covering her father's body with dirt, and then she gathered up stones from around the road and arranged them over the grave. When she was satisfied that he was safe from the animals, she went to the wagon to grab her pack and what few things of value were left besides her journal: the quill and ink pot her father had given her years before, some papers on the purchase of the horses, a bit of left-over food, and a couple changes of clothes.

  Soren remained seated by the grave the whole time, watching her silently.

  "He's not one of them," she said when she finally returned with her pack and sat down next to him. "The man who killed him."

  Soren gazed at the bodies still lying in the road. "You know for sure?"

  Erynn nodded. She had checked every one of those bodies while collecting stones and gathering her things. The soldier with the limp and the scars wasn't among them. He had survived.

  "Well, I am sure life will catch up with him sooner or later," Soren said. "Always does with men like him."

  Erynn wished she could find comfort in that. But she didn't. She wanted her father's killer to pay for what he did, and she wanted him to pay now. Not years from now in some stupid fight or battle somewhere. But he was a nameless soldier in a kingdom with thousands like him and she was just a girl. A servant. Not even from Galia. She would have felt some measure of justice if the dragon had killed him, but he hadn't and now it seemed like she'd never have it.

  Soren pulled himself up and brushed the dirt from his cloak. "We should go. If we can make our way through these woods to the Ring Road before dark, there's a chance we can find someone headed to Alyria. Someone who can give you a ride to the castle."

  "The castle?" Erynn said, looking up at him.

  "You must go see the king, Erynn. Tell him what happened. Those were his horses, after all."

  Erynn didn't like the sound of that. King Wryden was bound to be more upset about the loss of his horses than her father. She returned her gaze to the grave. "I think I'd rather stay here. I have nothing to go back there for anyway."

  "You have no family left in Alyria?"

  Erynn shook her head. "My mother died last summer. She got sick."

  "I am sorry to hear that, Erynn. But it is still important you return. What about your friend?"

  Erynn looked up again. "My friend?"

  "Does she know her brother went to Ethlon?"

  For a moment, Erynn was confused, but then she realized she hadn't thought about Adena at all. Her friend was back home in Alyria — all alone now that her parents were gone and completely unaware that Jared had left. Erynn and her father hadn't even known he was leaving until the night before they departed Cold Lake. Jared had come to them late that night, saying he'd heard men down in the bar talking about his father — how he was supposedly living at the castle in Ethlon. Jared was convinced that his mother was there with him and was determined to go find them. Erynn's father had tried talking him out of it, worried that it was too dangerous in Ethlon, and that even though Jared had become quite skilled with a sword, he was still barely seventeen. But Jared wouldn't listen.

  Erynn felt an ache inside, wondering what might have happened if he'd stayed. Wondering if it might have made a difference. She hadn't wanted him to leave and had tried to tell him that night. But when it came to Jared — tall Jared with his dark hair and his deep brown eyes — she had always had trouble finding the words. She pushed his face from her mind and reached for her pack. Adena had been her best friend for over five years, even though her father was one of the most senior knights in all of Alyria and Erynn's was merely a servant. She was even there for Erynn when her mother died. She couldn't leave her alone now.

  "No, she doesn't know he left," she said, pulling herself to her feet. "I do need to go back."

  Soren nodded, and as he turned and headed for the road, Erynn paused to stare one last time at her father's grave. She wondered if she'd ever see it again. If she'd even remember this place. Without thinking, she reached down and picked up a small stone lying near the edge of the grave — smooth and black and almost perfectly oval in shape. She squeezed it tight in her hand for a few moments, then slipped it in her pack and started after the old man.

  "How did you end up on this road, by the way?" Soren asked after she caught up to him. "The Ring Road goes through Cold Lake. It would have been the fastest route back to Alyria."

  Erynn felt a lump rise in her throat and again found herself unable to speak. She gestured briefly at
some treetops down the road. "We were on the Ring Road, but then we saw smoke that way and thought someone might need help. A lot of smoke. That's where we were headed when we ran into those soldiers."

  Soren glanced down the road, and a slightly troubled look passed over his face. "Yes, I saw it, too. I was actually headed that way myself when I saw Krystalix. I think it was coming from Berridge, a town just across the border in Brye. Not far from here."

  Erynn realized she could still smell the smoke, although it was faint and she couldn't see it anymore. Tears came to her eyes again, but she quickly brushed them away. She was the one who had convinced her father to leave the Ring Road and come this way. She had always had a bit of a sensitive nose for smoke and had often smelled it during their trip a long time before either he or Jared did. But this time the smoke had been almost overpowering, and had brought with it the strangest feeling that someone needed help. A feeling that had nagged at her until finally she couldn't stand it any longer and had pleaded with her father to change direction. To head toward the smoke. He had been worried about the king's horses at first, not wanting to risk putting them in harm's way, but eventually he gave in. It wasn't long after that they ran into the soldiers.

  "My birth parents died in a fire in Brye," she said, only just making the connection. "And now I'm orphaned again because of one."

  The old man paused to look at her, but then he continued walking, nodding sadly. "Life does work in mysterious ways sometimes."

  "Do you think it had something to do with Krystalix? The smoke, I mean? Maybe he attacked someone else?"

  "It would be odd behavior for a dragon," Soren said. "But considering what he did to the men who stole your horses …" His voice trailed off and he stopped, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead of him. "And what might this be?"

  He bent over to pick something up and when he straightened Erynn noticed a letter tube in his hand. Attached to it was the slightly bloodied leg of a large bird. Another image flashed through her mind, something she hadn't even remembered until now — a falcon with blue-grey wings soaring up into the sky, only to be snapped up by the golden jaws of the dragon. "They had a falcon. One of the soldiers released it after Krystalix attacked, but he ate it."

  "Indeed," Soren said, detaching the tube and handing it to her before tossing the leg away. "Strange they would have had a falconer. Might be useful to see what the letter says."

  Erynn hesitated, not sure if it was right — or even wise — to read someone else's correspondence — let alone someone so violent — but the old man didn't seem bothered at all and in fact seemed to be waiting for her to read it to him.

  "Why do you think it's strange?" she asked, picking off the wax seal.

  "Because falconry is still a fairly rare talent. Or, at least, communication-wise, that is. Someone who can make the birds understand where the letter is supposed to go, and get it there quickly. Men — and women — like that can be hard to find, so they are not usually sent out on routine errands or patrols. Too great a chance you might lose one."

  "Jared's good at falconry," Erynn said. "He's my friend's brother. The one who went to Ethlon. He wanted to be a falconer, but his father wasn't happy about it. Said he wanted Jared to be a knight like him."

  "Yes, it is also not a very appreciated talent. Not until you need to send a letter anyway."

  Erynn had removed the seal and now worked at getting the tiny cork out of the tube. "You think those soldiers were up to something?"

  "They obviously needed to report back to someone. Most likely someone at the castle here in Galia." A rather ominous tone had crept into his voice.

  "Queen Naedra?" Erynn asked.

  "Perhaps. And given what trouble she has been up to lately, the contents of that letter might prove useful."

  Erynn didn't see how knowing what the Queen of Galia was up to could be of any use to her, but he still seemed to be waiting for her to read him the letter so she pushed that thought aside. She shook the roll of parchment out of the tube and read the few words scratched across it out loud. "Task accomplished. Did not locate book. Returning to castle. S."

  Soren raised a brow. "Book? I wonder what that means." He appeared to think about this for a few moments, and then motioned to the letter. "What do you suppose we should do with it?"

  "Me?" Erynn said. "You found it."

  "Seems like it should be yours. Given what happened here, and who it obviously belonged to."

  Erynn read the letter again, her gaze lingering on the initial at the bottom — the only clue she now had to the identity of the man who killed her father. "I guess I could give it to King Wryden. When I tell him about the horses. Maybe he could send it to Gareth. That's his son, or the elder one anyway. He's been over in Ridan the last couple of years, helping them in their fight against Galia."

  Soren frowned. "I was not aware Alyria had joined the war."

  "We haven't," Erynn replied, trying to remember what her father had told her about it. "Or at least not yet. Gareth only went as an advisor or something. That's actually why Jared went to Ethlon. His father was one of the men Gareth took with him, but there were rumors last year that he deserted. His mother left Alyria several months ago and he and my friend haven't heard from her since. They think she went to Ethlon to find him."

  "Well, hopefully Gareth finds success in Ridan," Soren said. "And your friend, Jared, in Ethlon, too. It would not be good for Valentia if yet another kingdom fell to Naedra's armies. The west is still relatively safe these days, despite the most unfortunate circumstances you and your father ran into, but if Ridan falls, I fear that will change." He seemed troubled again, but then his face cleared and he turned back to the road. "Enough talk of that now. We need to find that Ring Road and get you back to Alyria."