Master of Hawks

by Linda E. Bushyager

  “I’m rather glad to be here myself,” Hawk replied. “If that osmur hadn’t chosen that precise moment to arrive, I’m afraid we would have been taken to Elmera for questioning. I suspect that was due to more than coincidence—were you behind it?”

  Elihen nodded. “Naturally our sentries sensed your entry into the forest, and then they alerted Proter that an Empire patrol had also arrived. When Proter learned that the patrol had stopped you, he had one of the defenders control an osmur, sending it to cause a diversion.

  “I thought we had to make it back without any assistance?”

  “Once you’d entered our forest, your test was over. Feder allowed us to help you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” said Hawk softly as they arrived at the Sylvan chief’s room.

  Feder sat at his desk studying some papers. Seeing Hawk, he glared through his savage mask of paint.

  Hawk stared back with a calmness that surprised him. The last time he’d faced Feder he’d had Coleman’s and Ro’s support; now he stood alone. Yet he felt quite confident, and Feder’s air of superiority suddenly infuriated him. He had passed the Sylvan’s test; that should have proved him worthy of Feder’s respect.

  Feeling quite annoyed, Hawk pulled the plaque from beneath his shirt and thrust it at the Sylvan leader. “Here’s your plaque—we’ve kept our part of the bargain; now will you keep yours?”

  Feder took the tarnished copper plate and studied it slowly, almost reverently, turning it over several times and tracing the inscription with his long, talon-like nails. Then he looked at Hawk and smiled slightly in good humor. Although the paint on his face distorted his expression to make him look ferocious, there was no mistaking the sincerity of his words.

  “The Sylvan thank you for returning Shuul’s message. He has shown his favor for our alliance, and we will honor his wishes, if you and the woman have received no outside help in this.”

  He glanced at the communicator and asked him if it were so. Then Hawk felt a deft probe as Proter searched his mind for confirmation.

  “It is so,” Proter announced.

  Feder nodded, and his painted mask again twisted his smile into a grotesque grin. “Then the alliance between the Sylvan and the humans of York is sealed and shall last until our defeat or the defeat of the Empire.”

  He took a small flask from behind his desk and poured the tomaad into several tiny glasses. After each of them took one, he raised his in a toast.

  “May Shuull guide and protect us.” Then they touched glasses and drank.

  The Sylvan did not send an army to aid York, for the problems involved in transporting enough of the perishable delaap nuts that were the staple of the Sylvan diet for such an army were insurmountable.

  Instead, only a handful of the forest people accompanied Ro and Hawk the next day.

  The Sylvan party consisted of Elihen, Proter, and Feder himself, as well as Eva, the Alycia tribe’s chief shaper, and Calkins, its chief defender. Yet these five could tap the full power of the scattered Sylvan by linking through Proter, the communicator. His long-range telepathic power could draw energy from a network made up of different Sylvan tribes joined through their communicators, and then transfer that energy to the others.

  Although they brought along supplies of tomaad and delaap, more of the skytree nuts would have to be sent in a few days, because they would remain edible for only a little more than a week. They also brought an extra wagonload of tomaad, which could be used as a medicine for the wounded or as a restorative for fatigued sorcerers. Its curative powers were evidenced by Ro’s recovery from the sword wound, and even the small amount that Hawk had consumed had banished the accumulated fatigue of the past week’s adventures.

  As they left Alycia, the Sylvan party rode slightly ahead of Hawk and Ro, as though they had decided by unsaid agreement to maintain their distance from the humans. Hawk thought this was just as well, for he felt uncomfortable among the Sylvan with their fierce painted faces and cool air of superiority. Also, he felt dwarfed by the huge forest people and their great Percheron-like mounts.

  Although he wasn’t quite sure how their power over plants and animals could be used as a weapon, Elihen had assured him that there were many things the Sylvan could do. When they reached the turnoff from the road to Elmera, Hawk quickly learned about their abilities, for riding toward them was another Empire patrol.

  Hawk guessed that the soldiers were in the area to investigate the previous day’s osmur attack and to search for the two missing N’Omb pilgrims. Fortunately the Sylvan had provided Hawk and Ro with new garments, so the patrol did not recognize them immediately. Muffled in their hooded cloaks of dolaan and half-hidden behind the bulk of the wagons, Hawk and Ro hoped the soldiers would mistake them for Sylvan children.

  Since the Empire still believed that the Sylvan were neutral, Hawk expected the forest people to bluff their way through. However, they wasted no time in declaring their new position. As the patrol ground to a halt, the Sylvan attacked with a ruthlessness that stunned Hawk.

  While Proter coordinated their efforts, Calkins, the defender, took control of the patrol’s horses, causing them to buck and rear, throwing their riders. Elihen and Eva reshaped the soldier’s bows in a subtle fashion, making the wood so brittle that it could not be bent. Then the two shapers joined mental forces with Feder to command the plants edging the road. The tree limbs moved with unnatural fluidity and became arms that reached for the fallen men or plucked them from their mounts. The grass writhed and grabbed at running feet, pulling men off balance and into the trees. Some deformed branches became supple fingers that strangled, others twisted bodies in a deadly embrace to snap bones as easily as men normally broke twigs, while others whipped men into the air and smashed them back against the ground.

  It was the first time these Sylvan had worked as a team in such a manner, but they were deadly efficient. In a few moments the patrol’s horses were scattered, and its men hung lifelessly from grotesquely disfigured branches.

  Frantic hoofbeats receded, the sound of moving branches diminished, and the forest became as quiet as the eye of a hurricane. In the hush, Hawk stared at eyes without pity inside frozen, painted masks, while his lips soundlessly murmured, “Oh, dear N’Omb. . “

  Ro, who had killed so efficently to save him only a few days before, turned away pale, fighting back nausea.

  While the Sylvan silently wheeled their horses and wagons into the trail leading northward to York, Hawk watched their impassive faces and knew that he would never again be able to think of the Sylvan as the peaceful forest-dwellers he had seen in Alycia. He would always carry the gruesome image of the broken bodies of men swaying slowly in the twisted arms of trees.

  18

  Dust clogged the air. Ahead, a muffled rumble like the thunder of heat lightning without rain grew louder, until some individual noises could be distinguished. Metal rang on metal. Leather ground against horseflesh. Voices cursed and called out. Men screamed.

  Hawk, Ro, and the Sylvan party were just above the battle, riding through the low hills northeast of Castle York, where they’d hoped to join forces with Derek S’Mayler. They headed toward the Lounsbury River, which passed north of the stronghold.

  As soon as Hawk had gotten within range of York, he’d used his parrot to inform Brian S’York of their success with the Sylvan and to arrange to meet S’Mayler’s men. However, while they’d traveled the Empire had begun its full-scale offensive, forcing S’Mayler to leave the rendezvous to counterattack. So now they rode toward his new headquarters atop a rocky promontory about a mile east of the fortress.

  Hawk contacted the mueagles that he’d left nested at York. As the birds surveyed the battlefield, he realized the full scope of Taral’s assault.

  Approach trenches grooved through the soil all the way to the castle’s western walls. York’s archers seemed to be slowly losing their fight to prevent the Empire troops from moving scaling ladders into position.

  To the sout
h, siege towers that were over a hundred feet high rolled haltingly toward the fortress. The lower stories housed battering rams; the upper stories carried archers whose object was to drive the defenders back from the walls. If they reached the castle, hinged bridges at the top of the tower could be dropped to allow the troops to cross over to the fortress. While soldiers sortied out of York to slow the advance, the castle’s engines of war spewed forth rocks and flaming arrows to try to destroy the towers.

  In the east, S’Mayler’s forces clashed against Taral’s cavalry, but were so outnumbered that they were more of an annoyance than a threat to the Imperial troops.

  Meanwhile, the sorcerers on both sides attempted to help their armies, but their efforts were stalemated, which in effect gave the Empire’s more numerous troops the advantage. Then the balance shifted as one of the Council of Seven succeeded in creating a huge hole in the outer wall near the approach trench. Hundreds of soldiers ran toward the breach through the rain of arrows. A knot of intense fighting developed that threatened to block the opening with bodies. “Hawk!”

  He relegated his contact with the birds to a small corner of his mind and found Ro riding next to him, pressing his arm urgently. Looking around, he realized that they had arrived at S’Mayler’s headquarters.

  As they dismounted, Coleman S’Wessex appeared. Dark crescents under his eyes and the white stubble of several days’ growth of beard underlined the seriousness of the situation. Although the exiled lord obviously had not gotten more than several hours of sleep in the last few days, he snapped off commands with a crispness that belied his fatigue.

  The Sylvan supplies were quickly taken to a place of safety, the extra tomaad was distributed to the wounded and stockpiled for later use, and their travel-weary horses were led off to be groomed and fed.

  Then Coleman greeted the Sylvan officially. “I’m glad you are here,” he said. “The situation is a stale mate at the moment, but our position is weakening.”

  “I don’t think York’s outer wall will last much longer,” added Hawk. He described what he had seen. “If someone could break through York’s defensive spells once, they’ll be able to do it again. And those siege towers will soon reach the castle.”

  “I think we can be of some help there,” said Feder. The Sylvan leader’s voice was warm and understated, but his strange eyes, one blue and one green, glinted with cold authority.

  “Then we’ll get you started right away.”

  Coleman led them up a rocky slope past stretchers of wounded men, milling horsemen about to ride out, sweat-streaked soldiers returning from battle carrying their injured comrades, and a pile of the dead who would await burial until some time when men could be spared to dig their graves. Even in the confusion the presence of the Sylvan drew stares, frightened looks, and surprised comment.

  At the top of the hill a flat stone promontory overlooked the river just below, the castle to the east, and the battle that covered the valley.

  Derek S’Mayler stood inside a hastily erected defensive circle. The carcasses of the two cows that had provided the blood still lay just outside its perimeter. With him were the telepath Bill Loehr and Vadim Strelkov, who was a sorcerer as well as one of Brian S’tork’s lieutenants.

  They were under attack. Each time one of Taral’s spells hit the defensive field, its energy dissipated as light, causing the shield to look like a multicolored dome over the bloody circle.

  Derek apparently sensed their approach, for he abruptly cut off his counterattacks and used the additional energy to cast a protective web that covered them in a golden haze. Where their new shield met the circle, a wedge-shaped doorway appeared, allowing them to enter. Once they were inside, the defenses returned to normal.

  As they entered, Derek strode toward the Sylvan, but when he saw Ro he stopped, and for a moment their eyes locked. An expression flashed across Derek’s face and then vanished into a mask of indifference, but not before Hawk recognized it as a mixture of concern and relief. Then Derek turned to greet Hawk and the Sylvan, and when Ro again stepped into his line of vision, he tried to look through her as though she did not exist, but he did not entirely succeed. They quickly discussed the best use of the Sylvan’s power over plants and animals. Realizing that when the Sylvan’s presence became known their position would be under even greater attack, Derek ordered his troops to retreat and fortify the hill. While the Sylvan used their powers offensively, he would concentrate on defense. Bill Loehr would maintain telepathic contact with the forces at the castle. Hawk would use his eagles to provide an overview of the action.

  Their strategy decided, the Sylvan drew together in the center of the defensive ring. Their tall bodies grew rigid, and beneath their painted masks their faces became taut yet impassive.

  The sounds of combat below were sharp and clear in the sudden silence inside the circle of blood. Then without any observable change, the Sylvan began to use their powers to reshape the course of the war.

  At first Jaxton Sinclair was unaware of the subtle changes occurring on the battlefield. From his vantage point inside S’Stratford’s defensive circle on a ridge about a mile northwest of S’Mayler’s position, it was difficult to see the details of the fighting. Thus no one noticed the suddenly high proportion of arrows that missed their marks or the bows that turned brittle and broke when bent. However, when the great wooden wheels of the siege towers ceased to turn, and the beams and platforms altered shape just enough so that one by one the huge, mobile fortresses toppled, it became obvious to everyone that new players had entered the game.

  “What’s going on?” yelled S’Stratford.

  Jessica looked up from her communications mirror, and for a moment her startled eyes caught Jaxton’s.

  Then without any warning or any of the sensations normally accompanying a spell, the four wooden rune-posts wavered and seemed to shift slightly, as though they were glass melted by a sudden wave of heat. The partial destruction of the runes was enough to destroy the spells warding the circle. The stored energy escaped with an intense flash of light and sound, leaving the sorcerers standing stunned and unprotected.

  They automatically formed personal protective shields, but that meant channeling part of their power from offense to defense. As Jessica communicated with the other sorcerers along the line, the pattern of the new attack became clear. Rune posts were failing everywhere, horses were bolting out of control, weapons of wood were becoming useless.

  Jaxton cupped his hands around the Pendant of Thantos and concentrated on its amber depths, searching out the source of the attack. A mental picture formed—giant men with painted faces inside a protective circle—Sylvan! Derek S’Mayler stood nearby, evidently using all of his sorcery for defense.

  Then Jaxton sensed the link between Hawk and his mueagles. At that touch he pulled away, breaking his contact with the enemy. He had come too close to losing his last telepathic battle with Hawk to risk another one.

  So his brother was here now; but he was a threat that could be dealt with later. The immediate danger was the presence of the Sylvan.

  “Sylvan!” The word slid from his lips like a curse. “Evidently York has managed to gain them as an ally.” He described what he had seen.

  “That explains what’s happened to our runes, the siege towers, and everything else,” said Douglas

  S’Stratford grimly. “Given enough time they can ruin every piece of wood we’ve got—arrows, wagons, catapults … “

  “Our army would be destroyed!” finished Jaxton. “And their powers are so different from ours that we can’t counteract their actions with our spells.”

  S’Stratford nodded. “However, they wouldn’t be able to resist a direct sorcery attack against their persons; that’s why they are being shielded by Derek S’Mayler’s circle and his powers. As long as he uses his powers only for defense, he should be able to withstand our attacks and protect the Sylvan, especially since we must use part of our powers for defense against the other York sorce
rers’ assaults.”

  “Our only chance is to divert some of our troops from the attack on the castle and hope that S’Mayler won’t be able to withstand both our sorcery and our army,” Jaxton suggested.

  Reluctantly, S’Stratford turned to Jessica Slogan. “Contact Taral and the rest and tell them to concentrate on the sorcerers at Castle York; that will leave us free to handle S’Mayler and the Sylvan.”

  “Jaxton, order our men to break off their attack. Turn every usable catapult and ballista on Derek S’Mayler’s position. Taral’s men can close the gap in the line when we pull out. While the cavalry and foot soldiers nearest the river turn and head up S’Mayler’s hill, we’ll take the reserves and come up from behind. The three of us will have to hit S’Mayler’s defensive circle at close range to break it.”

  Windrifter and Stormrider crisscrossed above the hills north of the Lounsbury River, and through their eyes Hawk watched S’Stratford’s troops slowly advance toward his position. Although the Sylvan had turned most of their attention to this attack, their powers were not great enough to stop it completely.

  However, by the time S’Stratford’s troops reached S’Mayler’s headquarters, the Sylvan had wiped out the enemy’s advantage of numbers by reducing expert archers and cavalry to frightened foot soldiers with only swords, knives, and fists to use as weapons against S’Mayler’s unaffected troops and against trees that strangled, bushes that clawed, and grasses that clutched.

  Still, as the eagles dived closer to Derek’s defensive circle, Hawk saw a wave of Empire soldiers break through S’Mayler’s men and head up the promontory. He called a warning, and a handful of Derek’s men in the rocks immediately adjacent to the ring of blood ran forward to engage them.

  Then three figures emerged from the melee—two men and a woman with the faint, glowing auras of sorcery shields. Automatically Hawk drew his sword as he recognized Jaxton Sinclair, at the same time expectantly shielding his mind, but the enemy bird-path made no move to contact the eagles and thus engage Hawk in another duel.