Royal Falcon

by Chris Svartbeck

  Religion

  The Karapakians have a diverse pantheon of major and minor gods with the sun goddess, called the “Burning Goddess” or the “Flaming Goddess/Flame Goddess” as the highest goddess. Her special messenger in Karapak is the falcon, which is also the heraldic bird of the royal house. The Burning Goddess is also worshiped in Tolor, but red steers are her sacred animals there.

  Other minor gods are also mentioned in this story, but only peripherally. The gods are notorious for either showing little interest in the fates of humans or playing cruel games with them. The most a Karapakian can hope for from his gods is that they pay him no attention. If, however, one deems it necessary to draw their attention, many sacrifices are presented as a bribe, as one also offers high-level officials and the ruling lords.

  The Karapakians believe that souls continue to exist for an indeterminate amount of time after death. During this time, they roam aimlessly across the land as malevolent spirits if they cannot find a resting place. This resting place is created by housing their ashes somewhere safe. Usually their families do this by walling up the ashes of the deceased in the walls of their houses and courtyards. Thus, death is not what Karapakians fear most, but rather the possibility that, if they are dishonorable, they will be denied such a burial and their souls will be damned to wander eternally.

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  Other books in the series

  Falcon Warrior

  Mirror Magic Volume 2

  (© 2016)

  This book will be published at the end of Febrary 2020

  Her royal mother-in-law thinks she is a half-feral mountain bumpkin. Her royal father-in-law barely acknowledges her. And with respect to her husband, Tolioro, Sirit would have rejoiced had he followed his father’s example.

  To make matters worse, she seems incapable of giving the kingdom the long-awaited heir to the throne. Sirit only bore daughters. Unwanted daughters.

  Ioro, the only one in the royal family who ever spared her a kind word is far away, leading the Karapakian army against the desert tribes.

  How can a weak, little woman, locked up in the harem prevent or, perhaps, start a war?

  Desert Warrior

  Mirror Magic Volume 3

  (© 2017)

  This book will be published in May 2020

  Battle between the desert tribes and Tolor and Karapak was inevitable. The foundation stone for this war was laid a thousand years ago. But no one could have foreseen what this war would turn into. Not even the sorcerers had expected so many disastrous consequences.

  The prophecies are misleading.

  The oracles are no longer able to see what the future truly has in store.

  The gods have thrown an unpredictable stone on the scales of the future.

  The wheel of fate is ready to start turning.

  Extract from Falcon Warrior

  (Mirror Magic Volume 2)

  An urgent meeting had been called at the Crystal Chamber. Grand Master Ro, the highest sorcerer in the kingdom, whose hair was already completely white and whose age had been lost in the darkness of Karapakian history, was chairing the meeting.

  “We are facing two problems of equal urgency,” he began. “The first thing we must clarify is the miraculous rescue of Prince Ioro from dying on the stake by an alleged divine miracle. As we have already verified, a mirror spell was clearly involved in this miracle. The signature of this spell is unknown. We are therefore dealing with an unknown sorcerer, of unknown power, acting without control, in matters concerning the Crystal Chamber. We aren’t even certain if it is a Karapakian sorcerer. Second, there have been grave shifts in power among the houses of the central provinces. Go was defeated by one of his adepts.”

  A quiet murmur coursed through the hall.

  “Brother Os was there and had a look at the situation. I shall ask him to report to us now.”

  Os rose and pulled out his mirror. “I noticed the change in the power structures immediately upon entry. All signs indicated a battle outside the arena. This is what I found.”

  With a gesture of his hand, he created a holographic projection above his mirror. The assembly silently surveyed the image of devastation.

  “This was Brother Go’s house. Go has been absorbed by a soul mirror.” Os transformed the image. Now they could see the interior of the tower. A young man was standing before the mirrors, his red robe filthy and torn, his unkempt, black curls hanging wildly over his face, which was pale with dark circles beneath his eyes. “As you can see, the current owner of the tower is Jo, to-date, a first-year adept.

  An amazed murmur coursed through the hall.

  “The young man hadn’t even been trained adequately enough to know that one may only challenge a master in an arena,” Os continued. “Apparently, the results surprised him. Moreover, it appears he is neither capable of dealing with the current situation without assistance, nor can he be considered a fully trained sorcerer by any stretch of the imagination. He therefore poses a potential risk to himself and others there, which is even worse, because, based on his powers, he is already at least a class four sorcerer, perhaps even three, with the potential to become a class one sorcerer.”

  He sat back down. This time, a din of voices erupted in the hall. All ninety-four of the sorcerers present knew what that meant.

  Ro waited until his colleagues had quieted down again. Then, he looked at the only sorcerer who had remained silent the entire time. “Brother Na! You studied with Go and should at least know this Jo. Do you have an explanation for us?”

  Everyone turned to look at the youngest member of the assembly.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Jo was always very impulsive. Promising, but stubborn. And very adventurous. I know guys like him. People who always dance to the beat of their own drum. I warned my former master, Go, about him. It appears Go underestimated him.”

  “Is he ambitious?”

  “Enough to be dangerous.”

  “Special abilities?”

  “He has a high affinity for soul mirrors.”

  This time, a collective sigh coursed through the assembly.

  “Those are the worst. He could do us all a lot of harm. We have to bring him here and train him properly.”

  “But then his house will be without a master!”

  “No. You will take over the house for the time being.”

  Na started. He was being sent away from the capital just when things were starting to get interesting? “I have barely been a master much longer than Jo, myself. Couldn’t you send someone more experienced?”

  After a brief discussion, the group agreed. Ak, one of only four female sorcerers in the entire kingdom, would manage Jo’s house. Ak had experience in rebuilding as she was one of the few survivors of both the Sorcerer Wars and the revolts against the Crystal Chamber.

  Ro called the assembly back to order. There was still the matter of the unexplained spell connected to the rescue of Prince Ioro. For lack of a better alternative, they agreed to keep a closer eye on the prince. Even if they couldn’t enter the palace themselves, the sorcerers had their ways of sneaking in their eyes and ears.

  Na kept a low profile. He had his own theory. Hadn’t it been Jo whom his fellow student, Thealina had taught, before she taught him how to control a falcon with his mind? And hadn’t a falcon rescued Ioro? It looked like Jo was involved in this. But he didn’t have to tell his colleagues just yet. Being the youngest had its advantages. None of the elders even considered he might possess knowledge and skills they themselves did not. After all, Na was a son of the House of Kirasa-Poetoni. Noble Karapakians drank in intrigue and strategies with their mother’s milk. He would make sure he always stayed a step ahead by knowing more than they did. That was the only way to advance his position at the appropriate time.

  Besides, he was, of course, also curious about what Jo was up to.

  *

  Kanata’s hands clut
ched the wooden cornice. He could feel the fine carving crumble beneath his fingers. He increased the pressure. Little splinters bored into his palms. Damn! How was a king who had sorcerers and priests against him at the same time supposed to react?

  The chief steward cleared his throat behind him. “Your Majesty, as I already mentioned, the seer is here. Of course, I don’t want to press you, but... He is an old man, weak and frail. If he has to wait much longer, he may not be able to speak to the spirits for you today.”

  Kanata closed his eyes for a moment. When he turned around, he had smoothed out his facial expression. “Then call him.”

  The seer walked out onto the balcony accompanied by the sound of rattling bones. He had strings of bones around his wrists and piteously gaunt torso. A dirty, brown cloth barely covered his groin. A necklace with little stones and animal claws dangled down over his concave chest. He moved carefully, searching, his head, with its thin goatee, stretched forward like a vulture. The chief steward held back the guards who moved to step onto the balcony behind the old man with a hand gesture. They disappeared back into the building and closed the doors tightly behind them.

  Kanata eyed the seer. Cloudy eyes, blind with age peered back at him; eyes that barely peaked out beneath the tangle of deep wrinkles and shaggy, white strands of hair. The man looked as though a gentle morning breeze might blow him over. Still... despite his indisputable frailty, he emanated authority. Authority and danger. The king hesitated for a moment. But there was no other way. He needed the information.

  “Do you know why you are here?”

  The seer tilted his head. “You tell me, Majesty.”

  “You heard about the assassination attempt on me.”

  The seer simply nodded. Of course he had heard about it. When the eldest son of the king attempts to assassinate his father, the entire kingdom talked about it. Especially if this son, against all odds, insisted he was innocent and was saved from the pyre by the gods and was thus rehabilitated.

  “The gods have proven that my son, Ioro, only wanted to defend me when he jumped on me with the dagger.” Kanata had to stop for a moment. Whenever he thought about that moment, he got a lump in his throat. Ioro, mid-lunge, dagger in hand, and then the spell. Ioro of all people, the only one of his sons he trusted completely, Ioro, of all people, had gotten involved with those accursed sorcerers.

  “You don’t need me to confirm this.” The seer’s voice was devoid of emotion.

  “No.” If possible, Kanata’s voice was even more emotionless. “I want you to tell me something else. The sorcerers are clearly involved. And as eagerly as the priests sided with Ioro after the judgment of the gods, I cannot trust them. That is why I am asking you. I have to know who is behind the assassination attempt and who poses a threat to my life in the immediate future.”

  The seer shrugged his shoulders. “The gods have not disclosed anything to me.”

  “Then ask them!”

  “They don’t answer on command.”

  Kanata’s hand went to his dagger. “Ask! I know you can force them to answer!”

  The seer trembled imperceptibly. “It is possible,” he murmured. “But the price is high!”

  “I will pay whatever you want.”

  “You will not be the only one to pay the price,” the seer murmured even quieter.

  “Ask!” Kanata’s voice sounded like the rumble of a winter storm.

  The seer bowed reverently. Then he sat down. With trembling fingers, he took an animal claw from his necklace and placed it on his open palm. Then he began to hum. Kanata blinked. The animal claw moved and began to multiply. The claws melded with his fingers. The seer reached out his hand. Four sharp claws sparkled in the sun. Then, the hand struck. Red blood sprayed across the sea-blue, glass tiles. While his life pulsated from his shredded thigh, the seer began to speak.

  His voice sounded quiet, like it was far away, but despite how quiet it was, every word seemed to echo loudly in Kanata’s ears. “You posed your question incorrectly, Royal Falcon. Incorrectly... There isn’t just one who seeks to end your life, there are many. A kraken, with a hundred heads and a thousand arms. If you cut off one arm, the others grow even longer.”

  Kanata shuddered. That was worse than he had thought. “But who are the heads? Sorcerers? Priests? Nobles? Merchants? Members of my family?

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” the seer’s hoarse voice whispered.

  “What yes? Who is it then?”

  “You are still asking the question wrong!” The disdain was now unmistakable.

  Kanata forced himself to calm down. “Is it the sorcerers?”

  “Yes”

  “Are the priests involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Merchants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Members of my family?”

  “Yes.”

  Kanata felt himself shudder. Was the entire world conspiring against him?

  “All of them?” he asked incredulously.

  “Idiot,” the seer hissed. “Many of them. Many from each group. I recommend you think about what to ask, Royal Falcon. The gods will only answer a few questions. You have almost used up your allotment.”

  Kanata thought feverishly. What was most important to him? “Who in my family?”

  “One of your sons.”

  “Which?” A hasty, almost desperate question.

  “That isn’t certain, yet.”

  “What?” Kanata crashed backward and looked at the seer in disbelief. “Why? Shouldn’t the gods know that?”

  “The future hasn’t been determined yet. It is influenced by our everyday decisions. No one, not even the gods can precisely foresee what will happen.” The disdain in the seer’s voice was once again unmistakable, though it was even quieter than it had been at the start.

  “Then tell me at least one thing.” Kanata was cold and sweating at the same time. “Did Ioro attack me or save me during the assassination attempt?”

  “Too late, Royal Falcon.” The seer’s voice was barely audible. “The gods have already withdrawn.” The seer’s body collapsed on the floor. Exhausted, he murmured: “I can only say that Ioro is the son who will always be loyal to Karapak.”

  Then he fell silent. At that very moment, his blood stopped flowing.

  Kanata didn’t dare move. “Is he... dead?” he asked.

  The chief steward stepped up to the motionless body. Clearly overcoming himself, he knelt down and felt the old man’s pulse at his neck. “He is still alive, Your Majesty. He is still alive, but the thread of life is very weak, barely perceptible. I am not certain he will live to see tomorrow.”

  “Take him away.”

  Kanata brusquely turned around. Another letdown, this seer. He hadn’t learned anything he didn’t already know. How in the world was a king supposed to rule if he couldn’t trust anyone?

  More informations about Karapak and the Mirror Magic Series will be provided on our website

  www.smilingwyvernpress.com