Royal Falcon

by Chris Svartbeck

  "Who are you?” the young man asked again.

  “I am Jokon, Blue student of the sorcerer, Go.”

  “Where are we?” the man asked.

  Jokon quickly explained the situation to him. The man grew very interested when Jokon mentioned the falcon. He appeared to think for a moment.

  Then, he introduced himself, “I am Ioro, eldest son of King Kanatamehme. Were you also the falcon that decided the fight between Tolioro and me?”

  "Yes,” Jokon answered. “You seemed quite pleased to have lost that fight. Why?”

  “Tolioro is the crown prince. One day he will be my king. It isn’t good for the future king to lose to his future commander in battle in front of everyone. It is better I lose a fight now than my head later,” Ioro couldn’t suppress a brief laugh. “But these are courtly matters that are likely of no interest to you. We should be thinking about how to save me. Are there any people nearby?”

  Jokon regretfully shook his head. He hadn’t seen anyone while he was flying.

  “You can cast spells. Can’t you heal me?”

  “Unfortunately, my powers aren’t enough. I can only shield you a bit from the worst.”

  “What about the falcon? Can it get help?”

  Jokon could have kicked himself. He had completely forgotten about that option he was so excited. He searched. Very weak, and already very far away, he found the falcon’s signature. Just within range. He turned back to Ioro. “I will use the falcon to get help. Unfortunately, it won’t be possible for me to talk to you through the falcon for a while. If a falcon is constantly coming to visit you, someone will notice, and neither of us can afford that. But I’ll find the right time, or another way. We will meet again!”

  Ioro bowed his head briefly. “Thank you!”

  But Jokon had already disappeared.

  The falcon wasn’t exactly pleased to host Jokon again. It still hadn’t caught anything to eat.

  Jokon forced the bird to fly back toward the temple. Two young men were riding out of the gate, chatting animatedly. The smaller of the two was Ioro’s sword fighting opponent. What had Ioro said? That’s right, Crown Prince Tolioro! Apparently, the two young men were planning a little excursion. The falcon dove and screeched. The riders looked up. They appeared to talk to each other for a moment. When the falcon dove again, the larger of the boys seemed to understand. He spurred his black horse and followed the falcon. The smaller of the two trotted behind him on his white horse after a moment of hesitation. Jokon led them to a hill from which they could see Ioro’s body lying beside the stream. The circling vultures sent a clear message. Now the men didn’t need any further instruction. They spurred their horses to a gallop. Exhausted, Jokon released the falcon. As though pulled by a spring, he landed back in his body with a painful jerk. He looked around. The courtyard was still empty. It appeared no one had noticed his little escapade.

  In the side wing of the sorcery school, dark eyes looked into a mirror with great interest. This young man was extraordinary. Should he foster his talent or destroy him?

  *

  Tolioro followed Ganet unenthusiastically. Just because some dumb falcon screeched about, didn’t mean they had to go riding off into the wilderness. He saw his sweet dream of having a little tryst with some pretty girl from the village disappear in the distance. Of course, he couldn’t tell Ganet that. He, like everyone else, thought the falcon was a sign from the gods, meant only for him, Tolioro, the heir to the Falcon Throne. He couldn’t afford to disregard this belief. Sooner or later, having devout followers would benefit him.

  He saw vultures hovering in the distance. Interestingly enough, the falcon was heading straight toward them. Tolioro’s curiosity had been piqued. From a small hill, they could finally see what had attracted the falcon. There was a person lying where a wild torrent gushed from the narrow ravine. Ganet spurred his horse to go even faster. Apparently, the falcon had called them to rescue the man. As they rode closer, they were able to see that the man was injured. Ganet stopped right next to him, dismounted and carefully turned the unconscious man over. It was Ioro! Damn! Tolioro was tempted to simply leave his brother lying there. The vultures would make sure he received a fitting burial. But that, of course, was impossible, thanks to Ganet. Ganet looked up.

  “My Prince, the gods truly smile upon you! They sent you the falcon so you could save your brother’s life!”

  Cursed gods. Tolioro was quite certain the gods favored Ioro and not him. He gritted his teeth and briefly balled his fist. Then, he relaxed and smiled at Ganet. “Quite so! A good omen! The gods don’t want me to lose a capable commander. Let’s hurry and bring my brother back to the temple as quickly as possible so the healers can take care of him.”

  Ganet improvised a litter made of a few dry branches and his tunic and lashed it behind his horse. They carefully pulled Ioro onto it and transported him to the temple as gently as possible.

  Tolioro was celebrated as Ioro’s rescuer. It actually would have been quite nice had he not felt a touch of regret that his accursed older brother was still alive. Apparently, the gods were on Ioro’s side. Tolioro swore he would one day find and opportunity to finally get back at his brother. Until then, well, politics meant recognizing what was practicable. He would come to terms with it and reap the unearned rewards of the rescue. For now, it seemed prudent to play the perfect student and accept the praise.

  The temple returned to its normal daily activities. Ioro recovered quickly. Urgutan saw the falcon’s return as a sign from the gods that he needed to pay more attention to the two princes. Tolioro’s education was largely in his hands. No one was surprised. On the contrary, everyone took it for granted that the heir to the kingdom and favorite of the gods received special attention from the Grand Master. It was the ideal opportunity to lay the groundwork for the temple’s future policies. Tolioro appeared easy to mold as long as he took his wishes into consideration. Perhaps it hadn’t been necessary to plant the dark seed in Prince Ioro. Urgutan generally didn’t question the old man’s decisions, but a quiet, gnawing doubt remained. Why was Tolioro the old man’s second choice?

  Tolioro was bored. He wanted to go back to the capital. Here, every day it was the same routine: lessons, fighting, eating, sleeping. The stupid village girls from the area were good enough to sleep with, but they weren’t able to hold a decent conversation. To make matters worse, Grand Master Urgutan seemed to have developed a special interest in him. The dimwitted old dotard insisted on instructing him personally.

  Tolioro grinned and bore it. His father would hardly allow him to return home if Urgutan’s assessment wasn’t completely positive. For the first time in his life, the prince truly made an effort. If he had to study in order to get out of this boring prison, he wanted to get through it as quickly and thoroughly as possible. He had to convince his father, as quickly as possible, that he would be a worthy successor. Only a royal order could get him out of here. If his father still didn’t want to include him in the government, well, once he was back in the capital, there would be opportunities to speed up the succession. And once he was king, he could eradicate this temple. He would think of something very special for these wretched priests who dared reprimand him like an ordinary member of the gentry. Perhaps he would throw them in a trench with hungry rats. Urgutan, as the captain, would, of course, get special treatment. Tolioro smiled. Yes, Urgutan would be treated in a manner worthy of the grand master. The only one he might spare was Askander. The sword master had been as loyal as a dog since the day the falcon had come. He might be a useful commander. Officially, of course, that job was reserved for Ioro, but once he was king, he could change that. As for Ioro, he would have to decide what to would do with his older brother later. He already had a few ideas. Tolioro sighed. It was time for Urgutan’s lesson. He couldn’t keep the grand master waiting. It was a good thing the priest couldn’t read minds.

  Urgutan looked very pleased as he watched Tolioro hurrying toward his classroom. It was rem
arkable how focused and diligent the crown prince had become! Soon, he would be able to tell King Kanata that his son and heir was ready to return to his father and assist in governing the country.

  Setting the Playing Field

  Contrary to expectation, Sirgo returned from his first visit to the tower. And the second, third and fourth. But after each visit, he was thinner and more ashen.

  Krudion, who had fetched him every time, enjoyed the fear he evoked in the boy. “Little Sirgo,” he murmured, “delicious, little Sirgo, you’re about to be gobbled up!”

  Sirgo staggered behind him, his head hanging.

  Then Krudion fetched him for a fifth time.

  Jokon was dreaming. He was standing at the end of a long, dark tunnel. A pale light glimmered at the end of the tunnel. Sirgo was staggering toward the light. Jokon tried to stop the boy, but Sirgo was too far away. He felt like he was wading through molasses and simply couldn’t catch up to him quickly enough. He called out. “No, Sirgo, don’t! Stop! Don’t go down there!”

  The boy didn’t hear him.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Jokon struggled to turn around. Gavila was standing behind him. There was a skull where her head should have been. The skull grinned at him and he heard her mocking voice. “Too late, too slow, too ignorant. The solution, as always, is right in front of you!”

  He turned back toward Sirgo, but the boy had disappeared. A falcon shot out at him from the dark tunnel. Its outstretched talons were aimed straight for his eyes. He threw his arms up with a scream. The falcon flew so close to his head he could feel the draft from its feathers. The falcon smelled like the hot, sunny plains... and Thealina. A child was crying in the background.

  Jokon shot up, soaked in sweat, Lira’s cries still ringing in his ears. He staggered to the bathroom and held his pounding head under the water. What was that? He didn’t usually dream at all, let alone have nightmares. He stared out of the dark window and tried to organize his thoughts. The apparitions he had seen in his dream made his stomach churn. The dream meant something. The dead were trying to tell him something. The dead? And why had he seen Sirgo?

  What was what it Gavila had said? Her ghost had told him the solution was right in front of him. What had she meant? His mind reeled. No matter how hard he tried to approach the problem from all angles, he couldn’t find a solution. He went back to bed, but he didn’t get any sleep that night. Lira’s crying still rang in his ears.

  The next morning, he was the first to breakfast. While he mechanically drank his hot tea, he watched the others slowly trickle into the room. Sirgo was missing.

  Krudion, the last to appear at the entrance, looked around and the walked toward the Grays’ table. Their cheerful chatter suddenly fell silent. All activity in the room ceased.

  In the sudden silence, Krudion’s scornful voice rang out. “Who’s next, after that little appetizer, Sirgo?”

  Krudion walked around the Grays. Every now and then, he would randomly move closer to the table. The Grays he approached winced and paled. One girl broke into tears.

  Krudion laughed maliciously. “No, not today. Not today. The tower doesn’t need anyone today! Perhaps I will return tomorrow. Or the day after. Or tonight!”

  The Grays sat there, paralyzed, as Krudion walked over to the Blues’ table, whistling happily.

  Jokon had had enough. He stood up and blocked Krudion’s path. “That was unnecessary and cruel!” he hissed angrily. “You have no right!”

  “They’re just Grays,” Krudion said dismissively. His eyes narrowed. “What business is it of yours, anyway?”

  “What you do for the tower is one thing.” Jokon’s voice was devoid of emotion. “But what you do for yourself is very much my business. It bothers me. I don’t like it. I don’t like YOU. I will see you this afternoon in the arena.” He watched, satisfied, as Krudion paled. The older boy had not expected that. Jokon left the breakfast hall with his head held high.

  He waited in the entrance hall. When Nao came from breakfast, he approached him. “I need a referee for the dual against Krudion. Would you do it please?”

  Nao shook his head. “Krudion was faster. He already asked Kai.” Something resembling curiosity appeared on his face. “Why did you challenge Krudion today of all days? You weren’t even his target!”

  Jokon shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s just say I felt the need to put him in his place.”

  Nao accepted his explanation without further questions.

  At midday, Kai wasn’t the only one at the arena. Nao and all of the Blues were there, too. Nao stayed back a bit to show he was only there as a silent observer. Tur was not there. Other than that, nearly all of the high-ranking students had gathered on the spectators’ platform.

  Jokon was both amazed and amused. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with a bone to pick with Krudion. It seemed others were also interested in seeing him taught a lesson. He had actually planned on keeping it short, but with so many spectators, he felt he should give them a show. Certain of his superior skills, Jokon stood in the arena, waiting for Krudion to make the first move.

  And he did. He removed a large mirror from the folds of his robe.

  Jokon froze. That was not Krudion’s mirror. He had never seen that soul mirror before! But that was impossible! Krudion was still just a Blue, and a mediocre one at that; he couldn’t have possibly made a soul mirror yet. So, where had Krudion gotten the mirror? He looked up at the platform. Kai was practically lounging on the balustrade, looking down at him with an eager expression and a scornful grin. Kai! She had to be behind this.

  Jokon gulped. The odds had reversed. With the soul mirror, Krudion was clearly more powerful than he. He wanted to say something, cry out angrily, but he held his tongue. He remembered Nao’s warning: There are no rules or fair play in the arena. Nor in the tower, apparently.

  Jokon angrily clenched his fists. He wouldn’t back down without a fight. He tried to steady his breathing. Don’t lose your nerve now. What would Krudion start with?

  He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Krudion began with a few unusually large fireballs, which he casually hurled in Jokon’s direction. Jokon deflected them. Krudion started a heavy barrage. Jokon’s defenses held, but he realized his reserves were quickly being depleted. He didn’t even have a chance to attack. Frustrated, he reached into the crystals and recharged. A counterattack. His fireballs were significantly smaller than Krudion’s. Krudion disdainfully swiped them aside and attacked with a new tactic. Thigh-thick, dark red, glimmering fingers of fire flickered from his mirror and reached out for Jokon. He was just barely able to form a solid protective wall around himself. The flame fingers solidified and grew thinner, brighter and hotter. They crushed the defensive wall Jokon had built around himself. Sweat poured down his face. It grew terribly hot inside the small bubble of air still surrounding him.

  He heard Kai calling from above, “Up with him!”

  Krudion’s spidery tendrils of flame raised him into the air.

  Horrified, Jokon understood. Krudion was cutting him off from his source of energy, the crystals! Nothing was coming from Tevi, either. Either his defense wasn’t just shutting out Krudion, but Tevi too, or something in the arena was blocking their contact. He was on his own and only had his dwindling reserves to rely on!

  Krudion practically turned it into a show. He presented Jokon to the spectators on the platform like a trophy. Kai watched, smiling. Some of the spectators’ faces were aghast, others’ tense or afraid. There was Tevi. He looked downright horrified. Clearly, none of the spectators believed Jokon had even the slightest chance of surviving this duel.

  The fiery tendrils tore him back to the center of the arena. Krudion drummed his fingers on his mirror. Jokon defensive wall vibrated at the same rhythm. The vibrations grew so strong, Jokon felt like he was being brutally beaten. His teeth rattled. Despite the extreme heat, he was freezing. He was terrified!

  As Jokon had feared, Krudion had decided to destroy
him completely. The hand of flame transformed into little, sharp blades that skillfully sliced away at Jokon’s defense. Then the blades danced across his skin. Bleeding from a thousand tiny, extremely painful cuts, Jokon could feel his mirror glowing hot and being pulled from his slippery, bloody hands. The mirror floated over to Krudion’s soul mirror and started to fuse with it. Jokon felt the powerful pull. Krudion was drawing him into the mirror. Whatever. The way he felt, he didn’t care. More than half his mirror had already sunken into Krudion’s and he could feel his body being violently stretched out.

  Suddenly, Gavila’s face appeared before him and once again, he heard her say, “The solution is right in front of you!”

  Right in front of him? Then, he began to stretch out even more and disappear into Krudion’s mirror.

  He thought he heard a falcon screech.

  It was as though a barrier yielded when the falcon screeched. Suddenly, he was able to think again. The mirror! He and Krudion were touching the same mirror; a mirror neither of them had created themselves so it was neutral! That was the solution!

  Jokon used that connection to force his consciousness into Krudion’s head. It was child’s play. Jokon shoved Krudion’s consciousness, which looked like a fat, black spider, into a corner of his mind and took over his body. Fascinated, he sensed the mirror through the new connection. The name of the mirror was Son. He saw a dim image of a pretty girl wearing a crown of red jaraca blossoms in her black hair and dancing through a house with high halls filled with columns. He could think about that another time. First, he had to solve a more pressing problem. He couldn’t get his mirror out anymore, but he could still save his body. Jokon carefully dissolved the bonds his body had already created with the soul mirror and returned it to its old form, but not without taking a large portion of energy with him. Now it was time to deal with Krudion. There was a hole in the mirror where his body had been released. It was a good place to put Krudion. He heard his opponent cry out in his mind. With a deep sense of satisfaction, Jokon committed Krudion’s body and soul to the mirror. Before his opponent was fully absorbed, Jokon released himself from him and returned to his own body.