Flight of Vengeance (Witch World: The Turning)

by Andre Norton

  Pyra shook her head. “How can it work, Lady? Falconers are what they are. They will not change their ways. Their fear is too strong, and lesser things have been added to it over time.”

  “They have been changing, I think, slowly, since they lost their stronghold. They must accept longer commissions now, remain for greater periods of time among other peoples. They are not stupid men, and what they observe must make an impression on them. Those bound to me have never given sign of discourtesy, and Seakeepdale is managed heavily by its women since war and fever so stripped us of our males. We do try to accommodate their ways, but a certain amount of interaction has always been unavoidable.”

  “You believe they will just settle in like any other men?” she asked contemptuously.

  “No, of course not. That will not be possible on a large scale for several generations to come, if ever.” Her eyes narrowed. “Nor am I sure that would be the best solution for male or female. The women in those villages have lived their own lives for a long, long time. They may not see it as any advantage to have their daughters and granddaughters move into the lifeway followed by their counterparts in most other races.

  “On the other hand, the new Eyrie may be the best, the only, way they can keep and continue building upon what they have made of themselves.”

  The healer frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Think! The villages are slowly breaking apart as more and more of their citizens slip away to make other lives for themselves. Many will marry and content themselves with raising fine, strong sons and daughters, but what of those who bring other skills with them? The female healer will always be welcome, as will the weaver and seamstress, but what reception will the blacksmith and carpenter find even among the bulk of the people in Estcarp? What about the woman who would train horses or breed cows rather than merely milk them?

  “I speak from knowledge, Pyra. Circumstances forced me to go well beyond the role normally carried by a Holdlady in the Dales.”

  “Many must have done so.”

  “During the time when the Hounds ravaged High Hallack, but once they were defeated and our men returned home, most resumed their more usual work and place. My sire came back to us without the use of his legs and right arm. He had to rely on both my mother and me, and later on me alone, to help him manage Seakeep. Then when the fever took both him and my wedded lord, I had to become Holdruler in fact. The neighboring lords have come to respect my abilities, but more than one of them still views me as a mare feeding outside her proper pasture.”

  “There may well be truth in what you say,” Pyra responded after a silence of some seconds, “but consider the other part of the situation. Most villages truly do not suffer when the men come. Their visits are not pleasant, for them or for the women, but they want sons and their temporary partners want daughters, and what happens is done without force. Most villages keep their boys until their fifth or sixth year, and rarely are they subjected to violence save when a babe is born malformed.

  “There are two exceptions, besides one which entirely vanished. The men come to them quite literally to rape. They take male infants at one year, and they slay at whim, women and their get alike. No one would want to be bound to their like, maybe with no option for flight at all.”

  “The Captain told me about that,” Una said grimly. “He explained that each village is under the control of an individual column and that a few of them were traditionally rough to the point of brutality. Even before the Eyrie fell, when their members visited outside their own region, as was needful to spread the seed of the race as widely as possible, they were closely watched to prevent such violence as you mention. He himself witnessed an assault on a young girl merely because her hair was too red for the attacker's liking. His Commandant, the Falconer Warlord himself, knocked the man's weapon from his hand and dismissed him, and he then had the girl brought home untouched since she was very young and shaken.”

  “You would deliver others to danger like that?”

  “That power over life will be ended. It is all but ended now, is it not, by the depopulation or total disappearance of the villages in question? Besides, I doubt men of that ilk will consent to the demands of the new Eyrie. According to the Captain, most of them are very fixed in the old ways.”

  “To the point of preferring extinction to the alterations needed to avert it?”

  “Even so.” Una's eyes darkened. “I only hope they do not succeed in swaying the majority of their brethren to their way of thought. If they do, the Captain will be outcast for his pains, if not actually executed, stripped of his command and denied the fellowship of his comrades.”

  Pyra eyed her. “He would hardly be without place, would he? Most men would consider the possession of two Dales more than a fitting exchange for rulership over a company of blank shields.”

  The Holdruler stiffened. “Most men are not Falconers!” she said sharply. “They have nothing but their own, the close companionship of the men who trained them and who were trained with them and beside whom they have fought, that and the friendship of their winged ones. I do not know if land or any other relationship could replace the loss of that, not if it were riven from one of them by force and in shame.”

  Her fingers whitened as they pressed against the table. “That man is proud and fine. I should not like to see him grow defeated and bitter, something pitiable to those who realize what should be.” Una's eyes fixed the other, sharply, as if they were spears. “As for what you have intimated, we are both women, not dream-eyed girls. That cannot be considered, not even as a question with no base in reality. He is not a boy responsible only to himself, his horse, and his falcon. If one word of such a situation were to reach his Commandant and other comrades, our hope would be irreparably shattered, and he would be less than a rabid animal in their eyes. Whether I held feeling for him or none, I could not do that to him.”

  “No, you could not,” Pyra agreed. “Pardon craved, Lady. I spoke without right. The chains binding both of you are apparent, as is your need for care. It was not mine to raise such a question in the first place, with you or anyone else.”

  “We often speak as we should not otherwise do when we seek to defend our own,” Una of Seakeep said quietly. “You are a Falconer yourself, are you not, Pyra?”

  The healer's face became a mask. “You jest, and without humor,” she warned.

  “Every race has its marks, Falconers more so than most since they have bred so closely for so long a span of time. Despite those high helmets, I have come to know them well, and your features bear the same cast, very strongly so, allowing, of course, for your womanhood.”

  “If I were what you say?”

  “You could help us if you chose, speak for and with us. Authority rests on you like a cloak whose wearing is yours by right. I think your sisters would listen to you as they would to no outsider, female or male.”

  Again, the Falconer woman fell silent. She remained so a long while, and when she did reply, it was obvious that she was choosing her words with care. “I like you, Una of Seakeep, and respect you, and I like your Captain, although it was my original intention not to do so. As you say, he is a fine man, and that will not be hidden despite the usual coldness of his manner and the hardness of his race. Of that I can speak, but can I ask others to go blindly to another place, another continent, to immure themselves in yet another mountain fastness, when I have no more knowledge of it, of what conditions actually are there, than any other of them?”

  The Daleswoman leaned forward. “Gain that knowledge, then. Come back with us and see both Seakeep and Ravenfield for yourself. We have lost much time already because of my accident and can afford to wait another season if the delay will give us such aid. I can guarantee that no force or compulsion will be used against you,” she added, seeing how the other stiffened.

  “This I do believe.” Her brows came together. “I must think on this before giving you my answer,” she said after a moment. “I shall truly consider
what you propose. Beyond that, I can make you no promise.”

  So saying, she came to her feet and quickly took her leave of her former patient.

  The remainder of that day and the first part of the next passed uneventfully, but shortly before midday, Storm Challenger became restless and grew even more so as the afternoon progressed toward evening.

  His uneasiness gradually infected Bravery and finally Una herself so that she, too, began to feel and fear that all was not right with Tarlach. Several times, she questioned the war bird closely, but his power to communicate with his comrade did not extend across the miles, and he could tell her no more than that he felt something was amiss with the Falconer Captain.

  The woman tried to check her worry. Tarlach was a mountaineer by birth and training, and few if, indeed, anyone better appreciated his abilities, in a wilderness or in battle, but she knew too well how readily accident or the unforeseen could fell the most skilled of warriors. Yet he would not be pleased if she came out after him needlessly. …

  He could have the rest of this day until noon on that to come, she decided in the end, but if he was not back by then, or if Storm Challenger, if all three of them, were not significantly easier in mind, then she would ride in search of him, come what may to their pride.

  The Holdruler was glad when the time of the evening meal at last came, for she hoped that the company and talk of the Lormt leaders would distract her from the worry gnawing her mind and heart.

  She was grateful that Ouen had asked her to join him in the smaller eating chamber rather than in the main hall, as was his custom when some specific or serious search was likely to be discussed at length. The number and noise of the full community would have been well-nigh unbearable to her at this point.

  Una was the last to arrive. The old head scholar was there, along with Aden, Duratan, and two of the other younger men who had taken a strong interest in their research. Pyra was present as well, as was Jerro, who had not left the complex with the others who had taken part in the hunt for the killer pack. She had learned early in her stay that he was so often a visitor here that he was more or less regarded as a member of the community.

  Although neither she nor the falcon, whom she had brought with her, had much interest in either food or discussion, she did her best to hold her part in the conversation, which concerned not only her companion's plans but her own and Seakeep's story as well, and she did not find her listeners’ attention wandering as she told the tale of her adventures, hers and the blank shield's whose blade she had hired.

  All the while, the sun dropped lower and ever lower in the sky. Suddenly, without any shadow of forewarning, such a wave of terror ripped into her that she sprang to her feet, her heart slamming in her breast. Only by an all but instinctive act of will did she clamp her jaws tight to keep herself from screaming aloud. There was no need of the falcon's simultaneous battle call to tell her the source of this panic.

  “I must ride! The Captain is in peril!”

  The excitement generated by her and the war bird's alarm subsided with surprising speed, and Ouen's hand closed on her arm with a steel-strong grip that restored her senses to her.

  “Think, Child!” he commanded. “Before you go, where do you ride? What has happened to your comrade? Is he injured or alive at all? You have had some warning or communication from him. What has it actually told you?”

  Una forced herself to grow calm, deadly calm. “He is alive, otherwise the falcon would be stricken as well, with the will to death upon him. A male bird does not long survive his Falconer's death.”

  She drew a deep breath. “As for the rest, I know little save that he is in some sort of trouble. It is through the winged one that I received it, and his contact does not extend a very great distance, not far enough to tell us more.”

  “The bird, does he know where the Captain is?” Aden asked quickly.

  “No, but he can help locate him.—I must go! I have just told you how much I owe to that man, beyond the service you saw him render to me. I cannot allow him to die or suffer alone, not without making an attempt, the best in my power, to bring him aid.”

  “I shall ride with you,” Pyra told her. “My skill with a bow may be needed again, if not my heal-craft.”

  “I go as well,” Jerro asserted in a tone that said he would not be refused.

  His sister was about to volunteer her services as well but restrained herself. “Two healers are already with you. I shall rouse the able men here in Lormt and those we can reach rapidly in the countryside and begin a second, broader hunt in the morning. Between the two parties, we should be able to find your comrade, the Amber Lady willing.”

  Una of Seakeep's hands twisted in Eagle's reins. Their progress was slow. After that initial surge of raw fear and the guidance it had provided, the mental signals joining Tarlach with Storm Challenger, which had permitted the short-lived, violent link with her, weakened or lessened to the point that they were well-nigh undetectable. They had to feel their way along the ever steeper trail he had taken, hoping against hope that the tenuous contact would not break entirely.

  The bird did eventually lose the eldritch trail, and only the joint linking of falcon, woman, and cat enabled him to pick it up again, but their pace decreased even further lest it be severed a second time, maybe beyond the reclaiming.

  The small party rode cautiously, tensely, through the night, in silence lest any noise or speech should distract those following the mind signals of the missing man.

  An hour after midnight, Una abruptly came erect in her saddle, as did her nonhuman comrades. Fear! Once more terror drove into her, this time with the immediacy of real need heavy in it.

  It passed as had the Falconer's first sending, and she made herself release her own dread which had risen in answer to it. Tarlach was still alive, then, and still fully aware of himself and his surroundings, but he was hard pressed.

  She told the others about this second contact, once more concealing the nature of it, then the woman fixed all her mind and will on the task before her. Her face was set and white. She greatly feared, she was nigh unto certain, that her lord's plight was a dire one, but she swore in her heart that she would find the mercenary Captain and find him in time, however far or high he had gone.

  9

  Tarlach did not sleep again. He waited quietly in the seemingly eternal blackness while dawn began to grip the eastern rim of the riven highlands.

  It was some time longer before the light gained enough strength and altitude to make itself perceptible to him, but at last, a grayish beam broke the dark.

  He was on his feet as soon as the first glimmer streamed down through the minute window in his prison. The task still ahead of him was dismally real, as was his hunger and his limited supply of water.

  The last represented his greatest danger now, for once that was gone, he would not live long. His ability to work would hold only a few hours after real thirst began, and then all that remained was to choose between the merciful speed of his blade or lingering agony. Death itself was certain.

  He drank heavily of that waning supply of water as he ate, however. The labor he faced was not only hard, but it would demand a great deal of concentration and a high degree of precision. Dehydration could drastically and insidiously impair his performance in both areas.

  About a quarter of the mound remained to be scaled. The man started on it at once, knowing it would take time and that the hard, delicate excavation of the roof must then begin.

  The debris was more difficult to handle, if anything, than on the previous day. The mound had settled somewhat and had lost some of its moisture to evaporation, and he was forced to trust his weight entirely to the treacherous stuff.

  Despite that, his progress was decidedly better. With the terrible, draining fear gone, he was able to handle himself far more efficiently both physically and in mind.

  He worked more knowledgeably as well. His troubles of yesterday had taught him much about the nature of
this material; he would not repeat the mistakes he had made then.

  Fortune was with him that morning. The errors he made, the inevitable accidents and mishaps, were few, and none caused serious delay. The work was hateful and heavy, but he pressed on with it, and by what he judged to be midday, he had reached the roof.

  The Falconer rested at that point, taking his first major break since he had begun his assault on the mound.

  He leaned against the wall, closing his burning eyes. He wished he had the trick of relaxing his muscles at will, that he could disassociate himself entirely from his body for a while. He would not have believed it could ache so.

  Thirst was now an incessant scream within him. He sighed and reached for his uncomfortably light supply of water. Brooding over his problems would not lessen them.

  He shook the flask and then with deliberate recklessness drained half of what remained. If he did break free, the surface ran with potable water; if he failed … In either event, the further sparing of so minute an amount of liquid was quite pointless.

  Tarlach stood looking at the plug of material which he had been calling the roof for several minutes without making any move toward it.

  He was afraid of it, afraid because the slightest error, the mildest unkindness of fate, would most probably bring, not delay, but either instant death or utter ruin.

  To remain here was the same ruin, and so he forced himself to climb the mound until he had reached the place from which he was to work.

  Before raising any tool, however, he studied the roof very carefully, trying to plan his assault. Only a miracle would save him if he merely attacked it without any regard to logic or order.

  The greater part, that behind him, was but a continuation of the mound. The material directly above and before him was crust, like to that which had given beneath his weight yesterday. Beyond this lay the solid rock roofing of the cave itself.

  It was the last that he must reach, but that would not be possible from here, not directly. In no place did it approach his makeshift scaffold closely enough.