Master of Hawks

by Linda E. Bushyager

  “Yes, Feder wants something from us. It’s a kind of test. He thinks we may be able to accomplish something the Sylvan can’t, and if we can, he’ll accept that as a sign that their god Shuull is in favor of their participation in the war.”

  Coleman sighed, wondering how to tell the story so that it made sense. “The attack on the Avedon forest in Cumberland evidently really shook up the Sylvan. So some of them with close contacts with the Empire tried to learn more about what happened. They discovered what we had learned, that Taral’s Council of Seven had not planned the raid, but rather that it had been caused by the overly ambitious governor of Cumberland.

  “But in the process the Sylvan got some information that we didn’t. They obtained a paper that described Taral’s entire blueprint of future conquests! And it was unequivocal proof that Taral intends to move against the Sylvan once he finishes off York.

  “Naturally the Sylvan were … disturbed … to say the least. But Feder and some of the others still weren’t willing to ally themselves with us—we’re mere humans you understand—unless they could get some sort of directive from Shuull himself that this would be a good thing. The anti-human feeling is quite strong in some places. So Feder demanded that we pass a test in order to prove ourselves.”

  Hawk nodded. “He’s evidently quite fond of tests. He told us that he was sorry that the ancient testing of Sylvan children is no longer done. You know what that is?” Hawk’s voice rose with indignation. “They used to take the Sylvan children when they’d reached the age of six and shape a tree trunk near the edge of the forest around them. Each child would be sealed off completely within the tree. If the child could unshape the tree before he ran out of air, he’d prove himself a true Sylvan and would live. And if he didn’t have a strong enough psychic ability, he’d be left sealed inside the tree forever!”

  “It was one way to improve the psychic powers of the tribe,” said Derek S’Mayler darkly.

  “Well, he’s appointed Ro and me to be the guinea pigs in this test, and I don’t like it,” exclaimed Hawk. “What’s this?” S’York looked at Coleman.

  The exiled lord of Wessex answered grimly. “Feder wants them to recover a Sylvan religious object. That’s the test. Unfortunately, the N’Omb priests consider it a holy relic of N’Omb, and they are the ones that have it.” He let that sink in.

  “You see, it’s some sort of a plaque that the Sylvan found while shaping the roots of one of the trees at Artoria, a skytree forest destroyed by S’Shegan during the Great War. Since the Sylvan believe their god Shuull lives in the ground, they thought the plaque was a message from him. After Artoria burned, a looter found the plaque among the ruins. Evidently he left it at the Shrine of the Three Miracles as an offering. The N’Omb priests said it was a relic of N’Omb, a fragment from some ancient city lying buried beneath the Artoria forest. So they kept it.

  “Eventually the Sylvan heard about it and demanded their relic back. However, the N’Omb priests refused and have kept on refusing.”

  Derek nodded. “The relationship between the N’Omb priests and the Sylvan never was very good.”

  “So, if we can recover Shuull’s plaque and return it to the Sylvan, it will prove to Feder and the rest that we’re in Shuull’s favor. Feder says that once he gets the plaque, the Sylvan will join us.”

  “Their psychic powers would give us the edge we need!” exclaimed Brian S’York.

  Derek looked more than a little doubtful. “But where is this plaque? And wouldn’t we offend the N’Omb priests by taking it?”

  “That’s the catch,” Hawk replied. “It’s a sacred relic of N’Omb now, sitting at the Shrine of the Three Miracles at Kellerton. It is guarded by N’Omb priests and their spells. That’s why the Sylvan never recovered it themselves. There is no way the N’Omb priests are just going to give it to us, which means that we will have to steal it. Or at least Ro and I have to—that’s another little condition Feder wanted. The two of us are supposed to ‘obtain’ the plaque and return it to Alycia without any assistance.”

  Hawk had never been especially religious, but the idea of stealing a sacred N’Omb relic disturbed him for several reasons. Although the Church’s power had declined since the discovery of spellstones a few hundred years ago, it still had enough influence to see to it that the old laws it had established remained in force. Stealing a N’Omb relic could earn the death penalty as easily as studying the forbidden ancient sciences. But even more disturbing was the thought that in stealing the plaque they would be behaving no better than the Empire’s looters.

  “Feder seems to have given you an impossible task,” said Derek. “S’Stratford’s forces have taken over Kellerton, so he controls your access to the shrine. You’d have to get through their lines, pass by the N’Omb priests unnoticed, and then break any protecting spells to get the plaque out—it is just impossible. Our time is running out too; the Empire will have York under siege in a couple of days. And even if we could steal the relic, do we have the right? I don’t like the thought of committing a sacrilege against the Church.”

  Coleman shook his head. “But without the Sylvan we’re going to lose this war. If stealing the plaque will gain their aid, we must do it.”

  Then Ro spoke. Her voice was tinged with such authority that S’York and S’Mayler looked at her in surprise. “The fact that Kellerton is occupied by S’Stratford’s troops might actually work to our advantage. We can make it look as though Empire soldiers were responsible for the theft. They’ve certainly looted enough towns to have given them a reputation for greed, and there’d be a large profit in returning a stolen plaque to the Sylvan.”

  “Even if you could get into the town unnoticed, how can you bypass the N’Omb defenses? Any sorcerer trying to break their spells would be caught immediately, and neither of you are sorcerers anyway…

  Coleman interrupted Derek. “I’m afraid that I haven’t been quite truthful with you about Ro. She’s been using the name Roslyn at my insistence, because I was afraid that, had her true identity been known, she’d have been a target for assassination. Ro is really Roger S’Cascar, Sir William’s daughter.”

  “What!” exploded Derek S’Mayler, rising from his chair.

  “I can tell you the details later, but when she escaped from the holocaust at Cascar, I sent her to Greton for safety. However, the important thing is that her mother was a Rowen, so she has the Rowen immunity to magic. She can walk through any protective spells that the N’Omb priests might have and take the Sylvan plaque without sounding any alarms.”

  Brian S’York stood up and slowly walked over to Ro. He studied her closely, as though he had never seen her before. “A S’Cascar alive … it is hard to believe. You should have told me before.” He took her hand and bowed slightly to kiss it. Then he studied her face again. “Ro S’Cascar, yes, strange I never saw it before. I played with your brothers as children, and when we were teenagers and you were perhaps eight or nine, you used to tag along sometimes. You were quite a tomboy even then.”

  “It was very long ago,” said Ro, squeezing his hand for a moment. Releasing it, she stepped forward and leaned against the back of Coleman’s chair. Then she announced with assurance, “Hawk has developed a plan for stealing the plaque; it’s a simple plan, but such plans are always the best. We think that it has a good chance of succeeding.”

  Hawk nodded agreement but did not voice his reservations. His plan could work, but they would both be in a great deal of danger.

  Suddenly he felt very unsure of himself and of his whole role in obtaining the plaque. He wondered if Feder hadn’t made some mistake in selecting him to obtain it.

  Somehow he’d never seen himself as a doer, a hero. He had always been the observer, the scout reporting to others but not acting on what he had seen. It had always been up to other men to be the heroes. He glanced around the room at Derek S’Mayler, who was perhaps as great a sorcerer as Taral; Brian S’York, who ruled the largest and what could well be the last
of the Eastern Kingdoms; and Coleman S’Wessex, who had lost his kingdom and now fought to regain it—these were men of nobility and greatness, these were the men who were destined for heroics, not someone like himself.

  He felt inadequate to the task. It was one of them who should be accompanying Ro. But he had no choice; Feder had made that clear. It was he and Ro who must steal the plaque.

  He listened while Ro described his plan to the others, searching it again for flaws; but he could not find any. It just might work. There was nothing they could do except to try it, for without the plaque they wouldn’t get the Sylvan’s help, and without the Sylvan they stood a very good chance of losing the war.

  Then they discussed the plan from every angle, until Hawk grew weary of it. He decided to get some fresh air, so he opened one of the glass doors at the back of the room and stepped outside into S’York’s private garden, leaving the others to rehash the problems.

  Enclosed by the castle walls, the garden could only he entered through S’York’s encircling apartments. His library, study, and even his bedroom had wide doors leading outside. Although grass, flowers, and bushes sprouted from the ground, the trees were placed in large pots, for the garden and the apartments were several stories high in the castle’s inner keep, and the ground was actually only a few feet deep.

  Hawk wandered over to the far end of the garden, where someone had constructed an artificial pool with a three-foot waterfall. He watched the goldfish and tried to relax, to think about something besides the Sylvan plaque.

  After some time he grew aware of the voices of Ro and Derek behind him, so he rose and headed toward them along a path edged with drooping daffodils.

  “I don’t know about this plan of Hawk’s,” Derek’s voice drifted through the trees. “If you should antagonize the N’Omb priests, it would be disastrous.”

  “It would be even more disastrous if we don’t take this chance to win the Sylvan to our side,” Ro answered.

  “Besides, I don’t think you should go on this mission, it’s too dangerous.” Derek’s tone had become peremptory.

  As the path suddenly twisted to the right, revealing Ro and Derek, Hawk paused and then pulled back out of their line of sight but to where he could still see them. There was something about their nearness and the tone of their voices as they faced each other that made Hawk feel he might be intruding.

  “Why do you care?” said Ro with disdain.

  “I don’t know why, but I do.” Derek reached forward, pulled Ro to him, and kissed her.

  Hawk felt a wave of jealousy and embarrassment, but he could not move away.

  For a moment Ro responded, then she pulled back and firmly blocked Derek’s encircling arms. “No, this won’t work. It’s no good.”

  A shadow of anger crossed Derek’s face. “I want you as I haven’t wanted anyone in a long time, and you want me just as much.”

  Ro stepped backward, her left hand still outstretched protectively. Her voice was cool and calm, but her face seemed pale and tight. “You don’t want me, you only want to prove that you can have me. You want to convince yourself that I’m no different from any other woman you’ve known.” Her voice had become confident, almost challenging. “But I am different, and you’re wrong—I don’t want you.”

  “Don’t you?” said Derek, moving forward and reaching for Ro. As his right hand clutched her shoulder, she shrank back and then raised her arm to slap him, but Derek grabbed her wrist with his other hand. Twisting from his grip, Ro pulled away.

  “Just stay away from me, that’s all I want,” she said with an iciness that made Derek hesitate and then step backward.

  They stared at each other with a wary coldness that reminded Hawk of the looks of rival eagles before a fight. Then Derek lowered his hands and clenched them.

  “That’s fine with me,” he said, turning and stalking back along the path toward the castle wall.

  Ro stood motionless, staring into the greenery after him, looking as pale and haughty as a swan. When the slam of a door echoed through the garden, confirming Derek’s departure, Ro suddenly turned toward the trees concealing Hawk.

  As he watched her, wondering if he should leave, he noticed tears beginning to drift down her cheeks. Instinctively he walked toward her.

  She saw him and tried to brush away the drops, but as she struggled to regain her composure, she lost it completely.

  Hawk pulled her gently to him and let her sob against his shoulder. He felt surprised at the change in himself. A few weeks ago he’d almost been too shy even to talk to her. Now he was holding her. But the differences in their heights still made him feel awkward.

  He led her to a nearby bench and sat beside her. Nestled against him, Ro suddenly seemed like an injured bird.

  He tried to comfort her, not understanding her hurt or his own, and realized that it had become very important to him to learn what her true feelings toward Derek S’Mayler were.

  “I—” he stuttered, and then the words tumbled out, “I overheard part of your conversation with Derek.”

  Ro rubbed her eyes, looked at him, and blinked through slowing tears.

  “Oh, Hawk, you heard what I said?” She drew a few ragged breaths. “I lied to him. I did want him, and maybe I’ve even fal … ” Her voice drifted off, and she shook her head as if to deny the unsaid thought. But Hawk could see it in her tear-brimmed eyes, even though he did not want to—Ro was in love with Derek S’Mayler.

  “But you hardly know him,” Hawk protested. “And you’re right in what you said to him; he wants to conquer women, to use them like objects. He’s my friend, Ro, but I’ve seen him use so many women… . “

  “I know. I’ve heard about his reputation, his affairs. Why does he act that way?”

  “I guess he just mistrusts women,” answered Hawk. “Do you know about his wife?”

  Ro shrugged. “Coleman told me something about it. He married his childhood sweetheart, didn’t he? Then he found out that she’d been unfaithful.”

  “There was more to it than that. Her name was Joyce S’Roehm. I’ve been told that she was a beautiful girl, hardly more than fifteen, and Derek wasn’t much older. Their marriage was supposed to cement the ties between the neighboring states of Roehm and Mayler. From what I’ve heard, she was a spoiled child who wasn’t satisfied with the life in Mayler. Evidently it’s a small, rather poor kingdom in the Western League.

  “Joyce S’Roehm ran off with another man a few months after the wedding, and some months after that she died bearing Derek’s stillborn child. The scandal caused ill feelings between the two kingdoms of Mayler and Roehm, eventually leading to a short war and Derek’s father’s death.”

  “And he blamed himself for all this?” asked Ro.

  “I guess so. But more than that, he blamed the girl.”

  “I can understand how that could scar someone, but for one experience to shatter a man like Derek… . “

  Trying to recall the gossip he’d heard, Hawk shook his head. “Evidently Derek had several devastating encounters with women. There was one woman in particular, named Jessica S’Logan. She had an affair with him and supposedly charmed half the lords of the Western League before they discovered that she was a spy for the Empire. She managed to escape. Now she’s on the Empire’s Council of Seven. They call her the Red Witch.”

  Ro sat up straighter and pulled a handkerchief from her trouser pocket. “How he hates them! And he feels the same way about me! I could sense it, Hawk—a knife of hate and fear coming at me from his mind that wants to cut up me and every other woman into little pieces to make up for the pain he’s suffered.”

  Her green eyes had a faraway look. “But I could sense other things too—depths of tenderness hiding beneath the pain, that brilliant mind, his basically good nature, and his terrible loneliness. And there’s something else—several times I’ve had a precognition that our destinies are bound together, that we will have a relationship—and yet how can it be?”

  Ha
wk struggled to understand what she was saying and to understand the strange, frozen emptiness her words left inside him.

  She dejectedly wiped her eyes and face. “I’m so mixed up… . Oh, I shouldn’t talk to you about this, Hawk. You’re a good friend, but it’s none of your concern.”

  “No, I want you to tell me about it. It will make you feel better.” As the words slid from his lips, Hawk wondered if he was really concerned with helping her or if he wanted only to satisfy the jealous curiosity that unexpectedly gnawed at him.

  She tilted her head back and stared upward at the trees, dabbing at the moisture that clouded her emerald eyes. “You didn’t know, did you, that I was married once?”

  Hawk shook his head slightly, not showing his surprise.

  “In Greton, of course. His name was Garth.” The words came slowly, edged with the softness of her tears. “Garth Lindsay. That’s not important, I suppose. Anyway, he was killed, and suddenly it seemed there was nothing left for me in Greton, so I returned to the Eastern Kingdoms, determined to put my bitterness to good use in avenging the deaths of my family.” She paused and sighed. “Vengeance requires a lot of bitterness. I didn’t think I’d ever even look at another man—but no one does when they’ve lost someone, I guess. Then I met Derek and, to my surprise, I found myself very much attracted to him, perhaps because he reminded me of Garth… . “

  “I met Derek several months ago, at a ball at Castle Elgyn. Coleman had taken me along—we were hoping to convince some of the Western League members to help York. Of course, Coleman warned me about Derek S’Mayler, but you know how charming Derek can be, and between that and my clairvoyant feelings that we would become friends and more than friends, I just didn’t believe Coleman could be right. Derek and I spent several days together—they were very good days—and they led, inevitably, to the fact that he wanted to make love to me.”

  Hawk wondered if Ro could sense his feelings, his embarrassment, and his need to know what had happened. However, she gave no sign that her unpredictable sixth sense had caught his thoughts.