The Last Falcon: Book 1 of the Cael Stone

by Colleen Ruttan

CHAPTER 2

  Erynn moved quickly up the winding tower stairs, her fingers closed tight over the letter tube. Two years had passed since she crawled out of that cave in Galia, but every trip up these stairs was the same — so certain that the cool stone walls were moving in all around her and slowly squeezing the air from her lungs. So certain she could barely breathe. She tried not to think about them, and to just stay focused on what she still needed to do — just as she had tried not to think about them every other time she had to make that long climb up the tallest tower in Caraden Castle — but it was impossible. Within seconds she was back in that cave in the hills, trapped in the musty darkness with the ants and the spiders and terrified of what might be waiting for her outside.

  When she reached the top of the tower, she found the falconry quieter than she expected. A dozen short posts stood on the far side of the room, the floor beneath them littered with droppings and enough tiny grey feathers to stuff a small pillow, but instead of a dozen falcons staring back at her, this time there was only one. It was perched by the eastern window, its dark eyes following her the second she entered the room.

  "Another letter from the king?" Faris Hatcher asked. The King's Falconer was standing by his desk, a tall, almost gaunt-looking man with long black hair he wore tied back from his face. He glanced at Erynn and the two guards by the stairs before returning his attention to a stack of small letters in his hand.

  Erynn walked toward him and held out the tube, well aware that the guards were watching her — just like they always did. "His Grace wants it sent right away."

  Faris looked up from his letters somewhat reluctantly, then reached out and plucked the tube from her hand. "Let me guess … to Gareth?"

  Erynn simply nodded, amazed he had even bothered to ask. Other than his old friend Lord Brison, Gareth was pretty much the only person with whom King Wryden still corresponded. His younger son, Holden, had gradually taken over his father's letter-writing duties in the past few years, until he now handled virtually everything. Erynn had been helping the king with his letters ever since she returned to Caraden and he had brought both her and Adena to live at the castle — his fingers so stiff with age that he now had trouble holding a quill. She had seemed an unusual choice for such responsibility, especially since she was only fourteen at the time, there were others in Caraden plenty more qualified, and he had also put her to work in the castle kitchen. But she was hardly in a position to refuse.

  Faris sat down at his desk, setting the tube in front of him. "This is his third message to Gareth in the last two weeks. His Grace is certainly keeping you busy."

  Erynn shrugged. "He's worried the others haven't reached him."

  Faris smiled, but didn't seem very pleased. "Well, you can assure him it's not the falcons. Ours are among the best in western Valentia. And I've been doing this for twenty years now, without a single letter lost." He shifted his attention back to the stack of letters he had been reading when she arrived.

  "He's not blaming anyone," Erynn said. "It's just been months since he's heard anything. Even any news of the war." She glanced out one of the windows at the lake and forest west of the castle — both a dizzying distance below thanks to the combined height of the tower and the high outcropping of rock on which Caraden Castle sat — and realized it was later than she'd thought.

  "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

  Erynn turned back to Faris. "You don't think it's strange?"

  "No, I suspect the war is keeping Gareth busy." Faris was still flipping through the stack of letters, appearing to scan each one.

  "I think he's worried that Galia has won the war. And that Gareth is dead."

  If Faris shared the king's concern, he didn't show it. "If the war was over, we'd have heard. If not from Gareth, then someone else. It would hardly be a secret."

  Erynn knew he was right, but still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Gareth had been in Ridan over four years now, much longer than even he had anticipated, but he had always been regular in his letters and there had been no word now in well over two months. The king was so worried it was affecting his health, and that worried her. Holden didn't seem concerned at all, but it was fairly common knowledge that he and his older brother had never really gotten along so that wasn't totally unexpected.

  Erynn walked closer to the desk. She was waiting for Faris to take the tube to the falcon, so he could send the king's letter on its way and she could be on hers, but he was still scanning through that stack of letters and didn't appear to be in a hurry. She could still feel the guards staring at her, but tried her best to ignore them. They had been a fixture there for over six months now, ever since Holden passed his new law banning unauthorized falconry, but for some reason their presence still bothered her.

  "Was there something else?" Faris asked, not bothering to look up.

  "Something else?" Erynn replied.

  "Something more you needed? I do have work to attend to."

  His tone reminded Erynn that it wasn't just the guards that bothered her about the falconry lately. Faris had also been acting odd. "His Grace wanted it sent right away."

  "Yes, I heard you. And it shall be, Erynn. There is no need to wait."

  "He told me not to leave until you'd sent it."

  Now Faris looked up. "Why would he ask you to do that?"

  Erynn hardly thought it appropriate for him to question the king's orders, but didn't want to argue. She wanted to leave. Mirella was sure to have noticed her absence by now and the headservant never missed a chance to punish her — even when it wasn't her fault. And the last thing Erynn wanted was to be sentenced to the crypt again. Making sure all of the candles in those long and cavernous halls remained lit was her least favorite job in the whole castle. "He's worried about his son. You know how he is. He just wants to know his letter's been sent."

  Faris didn't even blink. "I've been his falconer for thirteen years, Erynn. If he had an issue with my work, I'm sure he would have raised it by now."

  Erynn caught the bite in his words and wasn't sure why he was getting so upset. She'd seen him send letters before. Not recently, since the king no longer sent very many, but she had. "I'm just following —"

  "Aren't you expected in the kitchen? It must be busy this close to meal time and I don't imagine Mirella will be happy if you're late."

  Erynn felt the heat rise to her face. "I can't leave. I told you —"

  "And I've assured you it will be sent."

  Erynn crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not lying. Why can't you do it now? You have a falcon." She waved a hand at the bird and it immediately rose up on its legs and briefly stretched out and flapped its wings. As if it knew exactly what they were talking about.

  "Because I'm the falconer and I'll decide when he leaves. His Grace may have chosen you to write and deliver his letters, Erynn, but he chose me to send them. You've done your job. Now it's time to go."

  Erynn was stunned. This time he had the same tone in his voice that she often heard from the other servants around the castle, but it was the first time she'd heard it from him. They didn't understand why the king had chosen her as his scribe and seemed convinced that something else was going on — like maybe she was really his illegitimate daughter and the whole story of her birth parents dying in a fire in Brye was a lie. She heard them whispering about it behind her back all the time, but didn't believe it — because she'd actually gathered up the courage to ask the king one day and he'd said so. Now it just made her mad.

  "Shall I tell him you said that?" she asked.

  Now the falconer's face grew red. "I have but one falcon, and it just returned from a long flight. It needs to rest before it can go out again. Especially to Ridan."

  Erynn blinked. "How long of a rest?"

  Faris waved a hand. "A couple of hours. Maybe more."

  Erynn gazed over at the falcon, sure she'd never heard of a rest requirement before. "It doesn't look tired."

&nbs
p; "And you're not a falconer are you? It's a seven-day flight to Ridan. Well over a thousand miles. If a falcon isn't properly rested, it might not make it there at all. Or in very good time. So I'm sure the king won't mind waiting."

  Erynn wasn't a falconer, but she did know a little about falconry and had a feeling he was lying. She wished Jared was around so she could ask him, but no one had seen or heard from him since he had left her and her father in Cold Lake, and she hadn't seen old Sheldon Birch at the market in months. Sheldon had been the King's Falconer before Faris so would definitely know if he was lying. She stared at the falcon, not sure what else she could do but come back later.

  "Did it bring any news from Ridan?" she asked, wondering if there was some news she could tell the king, and just interested herself.

  "That's not your business."

  "But you said it just returned from a long flight. That must mean the east?"

  "I have work to do, Erynn."

  "Are you expecting any other falcons soon?"

  Faris sighed. "Not for a few hours at least."

  Erynn suddenly found this odd, and she noticed again how different the room seemed from what she was used to. "Where are the rest of your falcons? You usually have several."

  "Out delivering letters. That's what falcons do."

  "But if they're out delivering letters, surely that means some have arrived? Haven't any been for the king?"

  Faris rubbed at his forehead. "Erynn, I really don't understand the point of all these questions. Aren't you just making yourself more late?"

  "But don't you know? Don't you see the letters when they come in?"

  Faris slammed a hand down on the desk. "Enough!" He pointed to the stairs. "Leave now or I'll ask one of these gentlemen to escort you."

  Both of the guards stepped forward, one actually looking rather pleased at the thought of physically removing her from the falconry.

  Erynn reached for the king's letter tube, but Faris blocked her with his arm.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "I want it back. I'll return later, when the falcon's rested. Or when you have another."

  Faris lowered his hand over the tube. "I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be running around the kitchen with the king's letter in your pocket. Besides, it'll get there faster if I just send it when I can."

  "But I have to —"

  "Leave!" Faris said, pointing with his other hand to the stairs. "Now."

  The guards started toward her. Erynn turned to go, unable to believe this was actually happening, but she hadn't gone more than a few steps when she heard someone running up the stairs.

  "Faris!" a man's voice cried out. "Faris!"

  The falconer rose to his feet, muttering something under his breath, and walked past Erynn to the stairs. Seconds later, his assistant Clay Waverly appeared. The young man's face was red and he seemed winded, as if he'd just run all the way from the main gate.

  "Yes, what is it?" Faris snapped.

  "They're here," Clay said, gasping for breath. "In the courtyard."

  For a moment, Faris looked speechless. "Now? At the castle?"

  Clay nodded. "Do you know what it means? Why they've come?"

  Erynn found something in his voice unsettling and suspected the guards had as well because they had also stopped and were now staring at him. She stepped forward. "Who's here? Do we have visitors?"

  Clay flinched, not seeing her behind Faris.

  The falconer spun around, his eyes flashing, and pointed to the stairs. "Leave!"

  The guards started toward her again, but Erynn ducked around them and fled down the stairs. She heard Clay whisper something to Faris, something that sounded like an apology, but didn't hear a response. And didn't care. She'd go find out for herself who had come to the castle and then she'd head to the kitchen. And when the king sent for her later and asked if she'd watched his letter leave — which she knew he would — she'd tell him everything.

  She barely noticed the close stone walls on the way down the tower, too preoccupied with thoughts of what she was going to tell the king. When she reached the bottom, she hurried down a long series of corridors and stairs to the main balcony overlooking the courtyard. Two guards were standing outside the king's study across the hall, signaling he was likely still present inside, but they were busy talking to each other and didn't pay her any attention as she ran by.

  Three other servants were already out on the balcony, women responsible for cleaning the rooms on the upper floors of the main keep. Their eyes widened when they saw her, and right away they started whispering, but Erynn ignored them and moved past them to the ledge.

  The first thing she noticed was the strange silence in the air, followed by the shock and confusion on the faces of those who had gathered all around the inner ward to watch. Alyrian soldiers stood still and expressionless in two long lines three men deep on opposite sides of the courtyard — and what looked like all fifty of Caraden Castle's resident knights in a similar stance around the front stairs. In the two years Erynn had lived at the castle, and even in the previous nine she had lived down in the village, she had never seen such a display of Alyria's military strength. It almost took her breath away.

  And then she saw the visitors — and gasped.

  Two dozen had arrived in all, their large black horses breathing hard and lathered in sweat. Most still sat in their saddles, but several had dismounted and were now gathering near the stairs. Four wagons stood among them, and at the back, a lone rider holding aloft a staff bearing their banner — the head of a roaring black dragon on a sea of red.

  The mark of Galia.

  Erynn felt the strength drain from her legs and reached out to steady herself on the ledge. Galians in Alyria? But how? For what seemed a long time she just stood there, unable to move and trying hard to understand what this might mean. And then it hit her: the king's fears had come true. The war in Ridan was over. Gareth was dead.

  A numbness came over her and for a brief moment she wasn't sure what to do. Then her gaze passed back over the crowd and she saw a sight that struck her cold.

  One of the Galians, a man with light-colored hair, was moving towards the stairs. She could tell right away he was their leader. She could see it in the way he dressed, the way he held his head, the way the other men parted in front of him. But that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the way he walked: with a limp favoring his right leg. And even from the balcony she could make out the scars: the one that ran halfway down his right cheek, and the other on his chin.

  He was the man who killed her father.