Royal Falcon

by Chris Svartbeck

  Master Go only gave them a brief moment to enjoy the view. “This,” he said, “is the challenge arena.” His eyes sparkled green like an alligator’s in the shifting light of the crystals. “You will fight your matches here. I will test your skills here.” He paused for effect. “Here, the most capable of you will one day challenge the Reds to become adepts...” Once again, he took a pregnant pause, “Or to end your lives. There are no losers in my house. Only the best remain, only the victors.” His cold gaze slid across the group and stopped at Jokon. “Remember, only victory matters.”

  Then, he clapped his hands and called, “Begin!”

  Mar, the Blue, stepped out of the white, gleaming light from the left and entered the cavern. The Red, Nao, came in from the right. They stopped a good fifty paces away from each other. They were each holding a mirror in their hand.

  “Those are power mirrors!” Krudion announced pompously. “Challenges are always fought with power mirrors. You have to create them yourselves. Of course, your practice mirrors are still far too weak for a match. You are, after all, only novices.”

  Krudion would have kept blathering on forever, but an icy look from Master Go made him fall silent.

  At first, the two duelists stood below, facing each other and looking into their mirrors; it was rather unspectacular. Mar lost patience first. He attacked. Flames shot out of his mirror at Nao, who casually defended himself and attacked in return. Soon, the cavern was filled with balls of flame madly dancing back and forth between the walls before they burst in a spectacular shower of lights. Jokon ducked. Gavila cleared her throat next to him. “We are not in any danger. Master Go protected this platform with a spell. The excess energy can’t escape anyway. The little crystals on the cavern walls collect and store it.”

  “What happens with it then?” Jokon asked quietly.

  “I don’t know exactly. I think Master Go harvests the energy after the matches.”

  Mar had changed tactics. No more fireballs. Instead, Jokon could sense Mar was trying a banishing spell. The scattered radiation seeped through the protective shield like viscous syrup. Nao responded with a blindingly bright wall of light. Mar created a column of flame and tried to hurl it at Nao like a spear. The column fizzled against Nao’s protective shield. Mar looked baffled. He started hurling fireballs again. Nao had clearly had enough. He extinguished the fireballs with an effortless gesture. A maelstrom of fire appeared at his fingertips and a long tentacle enveloped Mar. A whole swarm of locusts was buzzing in Jokon’s head. Then, the maelstrom of fire went out. Mar had disappeared. Mar’s mirror had also disappeared. Nao was holding a new, large soul mirror in his hand. He presented it to Master Go with a bow.

  Master Go nodded graciously and made an impatient gesture. “That was to be expected,” he grumbled.

  Nao disappeared through the cavern wall with his new mirror.

  Per and Tur were the next to fight. They too started with fireballs, only this time, the two combatants started practically at the same time, without waiting. For several minutes, only fireballs flew back and forth, and the spectators began to get bored. Only Krudion, Gavila and Master Go continued to watch intently. Then, Gavila tugged at Jokon’s sleeve and pointed at Per. Jokon hesitated. Something was different. A slight movement seemed to course through the floor of the cavern. Suddenly, Jokon understood. Tur had used his mirror to cast a spell on the crystals that made growths sprout from the floor around Per. Per didn’t realize he was in danger until it was too late. Two long, crystalline growths smacked the back of his head like whips while shorter growths trapped and bound Per’s arms and legs. Per’s mirror shattered against the floor. The crystals greedily absorbed the shards of glass. Master Go leaned forward, interested. Tur sauntered over to his helpless opponent and grinned at him mockingly. He walked around Per, demonstratively slowly, his mirror pointed at him as though looking for a good place to strike. Then, Jokon felt the pull of the mirror. Tur drew his opponent into it at an agonizingly slow pace. Per let out a drawn-out howl that faded into a harrowing moan. Then, he too, disappeared. The crystal tentacles shrank back and once again became a harmless floor. Tur proudly presented his new soul mirror.

  Master Go smiled.

  Tas and Kai were the last pair of duelists. Kai appeared, clad entirely in flame red. She had even dyed her hair red. Tas winced as she swept in just after him with a graceful swagger. All of the students had had their own experiences with Kai, and Tas was no exception. He therefore began very carefully. He slowly, carefully felt his way using his mirror. Kai gave him a derisive look and countered immediately. Apparently, she didn’t want to waste any time and wanted to end the fight immediately. A gleaming red cord ran toward Tas along the power lines of the two mirrors and struck his mirror. Tas wailed. It took all of his effort to continue holding the gleaming-hot mirror in his fingers. The spectators on the platform above could smell the burning flesh. Miramee gagged and stumbled to the back to vomit. The look Krudion gave her as she left made the hair on Jokon’s neck stand up.

  The duel in the arena had already been decided. Tas was only able to react defensively. Kai’s powers smashed one protective shield after another. Kai was playing with him like a cat with a mouse. Out of the corner of his eye, Jokon noticed Master Go was glued to the railing with an almost greedy look on his face. Kai hurled Tas through the room and against the shattering crystal needles on the wall. She sent out tendrils of air that blocked his airways until his face turned blue. She filled his mouth with crystal needles so Tas could no longer scream. Finally, he stopped trying to defend himself. He laid his mirror on the ground, sank to his knees and crawled over to Kai, leaving a trail of red behind him. Kai triumphantly looked up at the platform. She was distracted for a moment; long enough for Tas to get up. A dagger made of white crystal shimmered in his hand. He stabbed Kai. Kai must have noticed something in the last second because she tried to evade him. The crystal dagger connected with her hip. Kai fell, half buried under Tas. He began to choke her. No more time for games. Kai managed to touch Tas with the mirror she still held tightly in her hand. With a final surge of power, she activated the mirror’s absorption ability. Tas only survived for a few blinks of an eye. Then, Kai lay alone on the floor of cavern, choking and coughing, in a slowly expanding pool of blood. The soul mirror beside her was a strange, distorted shape.

  Master Go gave her a disgusted look and announced, “This concludes the presentation.”

  He turned around and went to the stairs. The students followed him.

  “Who will help Kai?” Tevi asked quietly.

  “No one.” Krudion had heard him. “It’s her own fault, the little bitch. She should have paid more attention. If she can’t get out of there alone, the crystals will drink up her life force.”

  The thought of that seemed to rather please him. Of course, an open spot among the Reds meant a new chance for him to join the adepts.

  Krudion was out of luck. Kai somehow managed to leave the arena and drag herself back to her room, where Marada tended to her wounds.

  In the moons that followed, Kai was even more vicious than before; if that were even possible. All of the new Blues quickly learned to avoid her. Kai summoned Tirana to the arena, supposedly for a training exercise, and she never returned. Two Greens grew so ill after a match with Kai that Marada spoke to Master Go on their behalf. Every one of the Blues’ lessons was accompanied with the fear their Red teachers may notice them. Regardless of whether positively or negatively, being noticed was bad and meant they would soon be summoned to the tower. Krudion, whose blatant dislike Jokon now sincerely reciprocated, enjoyed making Greens and Blues alike tremble when he summoned them to the tower. The adepts generally left him alone. Apparently, his other services were worth that to them. Adept Nao seemed unchanged; as solid as a rock. Tur no longer seemed interested in Jokon. He often summoned Gavila and Miramee. They were usually very distraught when they returned. The young women shuddered whenever Tur’s name was mentioned. Kai, howe
ver, had recently taken to pestering Tevi. It seemed to annoy her that he seemed so indifferent. It gave Jokon a break.

  Flight of the Falcon

  Jokon’s fifteenth monsoon season had passed and the summer solstice was nearing. Master Go had received an unusually high number of orders in the past few moons. He was barely at the tower. The Reds did whatever they wanted while he was away. The lessons they taught the Blues became less frequent and shorter. A nervous restlessness spread throughout the house, amplified by the oppressive summer heat. Jokon fled, as often as he could, to the top of the wall on the northern slope. There was one spot he liked especially that was always in the shadow of the tower; it was somewhat tolerable up there.

  Thealina seemed to love that spot, too. Whenever the Reds called her to the tower, Jokon would almost always find her on the wall afterward. Thealina sat high above the courtyard sending her summoning spell to the falcons flying in circles on the thermal currents above. After the falcon flew off her hand, Thealina had a blank look in her eyes, and she would cower there for hours without moving; always in the same position. She even missed lessons, but no one else seemed to notice. At first, Jokon kept his distance so as not to disturb her, but one particularly hot midday, when the sun was high, and the shadow of the tower only covered a few paces of the wall, he moved closer to Thealina. He watched, curious, as she called the falcon to her hand. Something was going on between Thealina and the falcon; something he had never seen before. The buzzing in his head echoed like rustling feathers.

  He asked, cautiously, “Thealina?”

  She didn’t react. He called her four times, fairly loudly, before she started out of her reverie. The falcon, also startled, dug two of his talons into her hand and flapped its wings wildly. Thealina quickly released him. The falcon soared into the air with a cacophonous screech. Thealina swayed. Jokon quickly slid over to her. She allowed him to help her but looked the picture of misery as she watched the falcon fly away. “Oh,” she murmured quietly, “it will be a long time before I can fly him again. He doesn’t trust me anymore.”

  “What do you mean, fly him?” Jokon asked, amazed.

  Thealina answered as though she were in a trance. “When I touch the falcon, I can slip into his consciousness. He takes me with him on his flight. I can see through his eyes and hear through his ears.”

  “But you can do that with a scrying mirror. Why bother with the falcon?”

  Thealina came alive again. “Because it’s not the same. With a mirror, I can only see something I know. It only shows me places I have been or people I already know. The falcon is different. The falcon is free; he can fly to uncharted places. He can sit on the roof in a strange city and watch the children playing in the courtyard. He can see the flowers in the magnificent royal gardens and watch the boat races on the Tsaomoogra. He can hunt the pigeons atop the council hall and listen to the council’s resolutions from the windowsill. The falcon can do everything we are forbidden to do!” Her eyes were sparkling; she was wide awake now. “Don’t you dare tell anyone! None of the others know my secret, certainly none of the Reds. I am the only one who can fly the falcon. I will not let this freedom be taken from me!”

  “Don’t worry,” Jokon placated her, “I will keep your secret. But... can you teach me how to do it?”

  Thealina agreed after hesitating for a moment. What choice did she have? She knew Jokon was stronger than she.

  *

  The Temple of Ganae Elisam was torture for Tolioro. There was no luxury of any kind. The beds were primitive, wooden cots with rock-hard mattresses, and the rooms were simple, stone cells. The only concession they had made to acknowledge his status was a brown, woolen carpet on the floor of his room. Tolioro could barely sleep the first three nights. The food was also disgusting. Every day, there was bread; dark, soft bread with vegetables and a roast or dark, hard bread with a roast and vegetables and water. The worst part was the lessons. They actually expected him to take part in the general lessons! Of course, they bowed and showed the proper deference, but the headmaster had made it very clear that Tolioro was expected to study with the other students. Easy for him to do with Kanata’s authority backing him. Tolioro acquiesced, begrudgingly, but fantasized about murdering him.

  Thank the Goddess, there were only a few general subjects and they were manageable. Tolioro, who had been educated by the very best private tutors, did not find the material particularly difficult. Much of it, he had already learned. Weapons training was much worse. Tolioro realized he was still at the very beginning. Apparently, his instructors at the palace had intentionally gone easy on him and let him win. That realization made Tolioro foam at the mouth with anger. They would be taught a lesson when he returned! Beheading would be too kind! To make matters worse, it was blatantly obvious that Ioro was better than he; so much better, he would never catch up. He wasn’t even able to avoid his older brother. Except at night, when they slept in their cells, the little group of twenty-five students was always together. At least he was better at the classical subjects than Ioro. What had possessed his father to stick him in this godforsaken monastery at the end of the world?

  Ioro loved the temple. Of course, life here would have been even better without his brother, the spoiled little crown prince, but weapons training alone was so good, it seemed worth any sacrifice. He also liked the other students. He didn’t understand why he had to spend so many hours learning about history, law, rhetoric, diplomacy and the like, when a future general really only needed strategy; but if he had to, he would learn that, too.

  Master Straoto taught history. Today, he was covering a particularly boring era of Karapakian history. “...and on the third moon, during the thirty-eighth monsoon season of King Sagoliamehme’s reign, the Council enacted the Third Annex to the Second Amendment to the Law on the Leadership of the Guild of Wandering Building Craftsmen...”

  Ioro looked out the window. Out on the horizon, he could see a falcon circling; the symbol of the Royal House of Mehme.

  He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder “Apparently, Prince Ioromehme is already familiar with this part of my lesson,” said Master Straoto with a bit of irony. “I would be so pleased, My Prince, if you would continue the lesson in my stead!”

  Ioro turned beet-red and lowered his head in shame. He didn’t even know what Master Straoto had been talking about.

  “No?” the master’s tone turned cutting. “My Prince, I shall expect you in my office after the lesson!”

  Ioro didn’t dare look up. He saw Tolioro looking at him out of the corner of his eye. His brother looked extremely satisfied.

  “What makes you think you can ignore your history lessons?”

  Master Straoto’s mood had not improved.

  Ioro swallowed but stood at attention as he answered. “I will become the king’s highest commander. A commander’s focus should be on other subjects.”

  “Such as?”

  “Strategy, organization, planning, expertise in weaponry,” Ioro rattled off.

  “I see. Then, I assume you plan on doing nothing but waging constant war?”

  Ioro blinked. Master Straoto’s question seemed to implicate he expected a “No” in response.

  Straoto continued. “His most gracious Majesty, King Kanatamehme, your father, has reigned for twenty-eight monsoon seasons. During how many of those years has he waged war?”

  “Five monsoon seasons, three moons and nine days!” Ioro answered as quickly as he would release an arrow.

  “And what do you think his commander was doing during the remaining twenty-three monsoon seasons? Drilling his soldiers? Sleeping with women? Twiddling his thumbs?”

  Ioro wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. He had never wasted a single thought on it.

  Master Straoto continued. “During times of peace, the high commander is a diplomat. You will receive emissaries from other nations, discuss trade agreements, attend balls, and discuss politics and fashion with beautiful women. You will a
lso have to set up a spy network, manage agents at home and abroad, and ensure the internal security of the kingdom. You will require more knowledge than battle plans and attack strategies alone can offer you. For instance, how do you draw up a seating plan for a reception if you don’t know that the emissaries from Meelas and Kirsitan are arch enemies because of a border violation in the Celestial Mountains a hundred and ninety-three monsoon seasons ago? How will you properly compliment the wife of the Toloran emissary on her appearance if you don’t know mentioning a woman’s clothing is considered a faux pas in Toloran society? How will you accept the surrender of a Narkassian army if you ignore the fact that they consider it a fatal insult to wear your tabard while doing so? Surely, you understand what I am trying to say. As a commander, you have to know everything the king knows and much more.”

  Ioro stood perfectly erect. “Master Straoto, I understand what you are trying to say. Please excuse my arrogance and stupidity.” With a respectful bow, he turned around and went to his room. It was time to study history.

  Straoto watched the young prince leave. The kingdom would gain an excellent commander one day.

  *

  The falcon’s body felt strange. Its legs were too short, there were feathers everywhere that felt every draft; and those keen eyes. The bird’s body was so foreign to him, Jokon couldn’t get further than a brief attempt the first two times. He couldn’t properly judge distances anymore because everything in the falcon’s field of vision was distorted. His first movements were a complete catastrophe. The falcon reeled and fell as soon as Jokon tried to move him from where he stood.