The Dead Falcon (The Eastern Slave Series Book 4)

by Victor Poole

  THE DEAD FALCON

  Victor Poole

  Copyright © 2017 by Victor Poole

  All rights reserved.

  CONTENTS

  1 The Burned Books

  2 The Stripping of Valos

  3 The End of Beryl

  4 The Old Man, Tree

  5 A Very Small Siege

  6 The Nefarious Tree

  7 The Shadow of Beryl

  8 Lily, the Wife of Tree

  9 The Clear Red Stones

  10 Sharo, the Child Bride

  11 Delmar Returns

  12 Ajalia and Ocher

  13 Ossa

  14 Delmar's Little Brother

  15 Leed's Wish

  16 Isacar's Woman

  17 The Meeting of Thieves

  18 The Story Magic

  19 The Witches' Thrall

  20 Leed Takes the Old Book

  21 The Meeting with the Priest

  THE BURNED BOOKS

  Ajalia and Delmar gathered up the long stacks of books, and made them into a tall pile on the edge of the tree hollow. Ajalia cut strips from the hem of her tunic, and tied up the books into bundles. She cut another long piece, and tied the bundled books to each other, and then hung them over the back of the horse.

  "I never used to destroy my clothes like this," Ajalia said as she tucked her knife away.

  "You look very exciting," Delmar told her, smiling.

  "I look as though I've got a problem with wearing clothes," Ajalia said, regarding the shortened and ragged herm of her tunic. "This will have to change," she said, "when we're established in Slavithe."

  "Are we going to be established in Slavithe?" Delmar asked eagerly. Ajalia smiled at the tone in his voice. She thought that Delmar had said he would never go back to the white city, after he had killed his father, but with the white shard out of his soul, and the long rent within him healed up as if by fire, he seemed now to be an entirely new Delmar.

  "Yes," Ajalia said. "We have to establish a household, and go about things the right way." She gathered up her bag, and looked about the hollow. "Have we forgotten anything?" she asked.

  "I feel as if we've left a body behind," Delmar admitted. Ajalia looked at him. She remembered the oddly hollow feeling she had experienced in her gut, after she had thrown out her mother's necklace, and how there had seemed to be an echo around her neck. She remembered how she had woken up at night for weeks, clasping her fingers around her throat, searching for the chain.

  "Let us talk about Ocher," Ajalia suggested. She led the black horse through the trees.

  "You would never go back to Philas, would you?" Delmar asked.

  "No," Ajalia said.

  "Would you have gone back to him before?" Delmar asked. "Before today?"

  "No," Ajalia said. "He's not in control of himself. His eyes hide from me. I could never trust him."

  "What if he changed?" Delmar asked. He was following along beside her, one of his fingertips pressed just against the tip of the horse's black hide. The horse was longer somehow, stronger and brighter than he had been before Ajalia had wound red lights through his legs. His eye gleamed, and his legs thudded into the ground with the force of great trees.

  "What is wrong with Philas," Ajalia said, picking her way through the brush, "is that even if he changes, the sadness and the anger can come back. It's hidden away inside of him, where even he cannot find it."

  "If he found the darkness, and changed it, or got rid of it," Delmar persisted, "would you go back to him?"

  "No," Ajalia said. "Everything he told me was a lie. He lied to me." Delmar watched Ajalia narrowly. He looked as if he wanted to believe her. "I might use Philas," she said frankly, "sometime in the future."

  "Why?" Delmar asked.

  "Because I know him, and he's clever and capable," Ajalia said. "He wants to help me."

  "But he's a louse," Delmar said decidedly. "I hate him."

  "He might be the next king of Saroyan," Ajalia said slowly. She told Delmar about the two pieces of heavy paper she had found in Lim's secret box, and of the writing she had not been able to recognize. "I don't know if that is what the papers are," she said, "but I have a feeling about it."

  "And you're usually right," Delmar acceded.

  "Yes," Ajalia admitted. "I have usually been right." Delmar thought over this for some time. The light filtering through the trees was heavy with sun; it was growing late in the morning. "Ocher will not be pleased that you are back so soon," Ajalia told Delmar.

  "Where did he think I was going?" Delmar asked scornfully.

  "It's my fault," Ajalia told him. "I thought you would have a breakdown. I thought I would need to nurse you back to some semblance of normalcy."

  "Well," Delmar said decidedly, "you don't have to do that. I'm fine."

  Ajalia looked at Delmar, and she saw that he did, indeed, look fine. She was surprised. She had been sure that killing his father, and destroying the remnants of his mother, all in one day, would have had a disastrous effect on Delmar. She had been sure he would, at the very least, have had some kind of fever. She had half suspected that he would run off somewhere in the wilderness, to create seclusion and healing for himself in isolation.

  "You feel all right now?" she asked him.

  "Yes," Delmar said.

  "And you don't feel faint, or dizzy, or slightly unhinged?" Ajalia asked.

  "Nope," Delmar said. Ajalia studied his eyes. She looked at the state of his soul, and saw the many tears and rents that lay throughout the colors that streamed in him.

  "You're all torn up inside," she said quietly.

  "Destroying the books will solve that," Delmar said. He sounded quite assured. "I'm sure I'll be able to do magic better, after we burn the books."

  "Delmar," Ajalia said.

  "Yes?" Delmar asked.

  "You're going to have to win over Ocher," she said. Delmar glanced at her. He scruffed his fingers into the shoulder of the horse.

  "This is a nice horse," Delmar said.

  "Are you prepared to fight Ocher?" Ajalia asked. Delmar bit the insides of his lips.

  "I shouldn't have to fight Ocher," Delmar said. His voice was light; Ajalia felt a sort of settling inside of her gut. She had thought that Delmar seemed too perfect all of a sudden. She tried to think of what to say to Delmar. Delmar walked beside the horse, his shoulders thrown back, and his chin thrust out into the morning air. He looked confident and easy in himself; he looked as though he had no further problems in his life.

  "Delmar," Ajalia said.

  "You sound very bossy," Delmar said.

  "Do you think you're finished now?" she asked him. He shook himself a little, and looked at her.

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "You seem to think we've accomplished something," she pointed out.

  "Well, we have," he said. "We got rid of my mother. I'll be able to do magic now. My father's out of the way, and everything in Slavithe will be perfect now."

  Ajalia stopped walking, and put a hand on Delmar's elbow. She felt that Delmar needed a reality check.

  "Delmar," she said.

  "This sounds very serious," Delmar said, turning to look at her full in the face.

  "It is serious," Ajalia told him. "I don't think you're ready. And," she added," Ocher is going to tell everyone that I've led your father out of the city towards the East, to meet with my master, so I can't exactly pop up in Slavithe and maintain that story."

  "Why did you tell him that?" Delmar demanded.

  "One," Ajalia said, "because I wanted to buy time. And two—"

  "Why did you need to buy time?" Delmar demanded.
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br />   "And two," Ajalia said, "because Rane was getting nervous, and I don't want to set him off."

  "Why would Rane get set off? Why would you set him off?" Delmar looked confused and annoyed.

  "Look," Ajalia said, rubbing her fingers over her eyebrows, "you aren't ready to take power yet. You don't understand what it means."

  "Then you'll have to tell me while we do it," Delmar said. "I think you're just getting cold feet."

  "I am not," Ajalia said.

  "Are too," Delmar said. "You thought that I was going to run away and be a crybaby, and now I'm not, and you're upset that everything didn't happen the way you wanted it to. Well, I didn't run away, and I'm here with you, and I'm going to go and be the Thief Lord." Delmar looked sternly at Ajalia; they had stopped walking, and the black horse was rubbing his face gently against Delmar's sleeve. Delmar stumbled a little to the side when the black horse pushed too hard. "Stop that," Delmar told the horse. "And," Delmar told Ajalia, "you can either come with me, and clear up this mess, or you can stay out here and play pretend. But I'm going home," he added.

  "What are you going to tell Ocher?" Ajalia asked.

  "I only left last night," Delmar said. "They probably haven't even told anyone yet that my father is dead."

  "Ocher is going to take power," Ajalia said. "He's going to try to keep power, too."

  "Well, I have you," Delmar said easily. Ajalia smiled.

  "I thought I was free to live out here like a wild woman, while you sorted this out yourself," she reminded him.

  "Well, I said that," Delmar admitted, "but it's not like you'll actually do that. You're coming with me, aren't you?" he added anxiously. Ajalia sighed. "What are you sighing about?" Delmar demanded. He sounded angry. "You don't need to go sighing, just because of me."

  "I'm sighing," Ajalia said, "because there's a lot of work to do."

  "So?" Delmar asked. Ajalia looked at Delmar; he was like an anxious boy who wishes to build a house, and thinks he can finish in a day. She led the horse to a tree, and tied him up. "What are you doing now?" Delmar asked. Ajalia took the books from the back of the horse, and untied one bundle. "What are you doing?" Delmar asked again. His eyes were bright.

  "You're adorable," Ajalia told him, "but you make me tired."

  "Why?" Delmar demanded. Ajalia laughed. She sat down.

  "Come and help me," she said. She passed a thick old book to Delmar. "It's a pity," she said, opening the pages of a book, and examining the paintings inside. She ripped out a page, and began tearing it into pieces. She dropped the pieces into a neat pile on the ground. Delmar watched her, his eyes wide in shock. He looked as though he had been punched through the heart. His cheeks were pale.

  "What are you doing?" he demanded, gasping a little. "I thought," he added hurriedly, a flush creeping up his cheeks and into his hair, "that we were going to do that kind of destructive thing later."

  "Now," Ajalia told him, and tore out another page. Delmar's hands were twisting anxiously around the edges of the thick tome he held.

  "But," Delmar said, watching the scraps of gorgeous paper flutter helplessly to the forest floor. "But," he added, his voice weakening, "I wanted to," he put in, and his voice was very soft, "save one or two of them."

  "No," Ajalia said. She ripped the page she held, right across a line of text, and began to shred the thick paper between her fingers. Delmar reached out, and snatched away the book she held in her lap.

  "You can't," Delmar said, struggling for words, "you can't just destroy books, though."

  "He'll destroy you, if you go back," Ajalia said. She picked up a third book from the untied bundle, and opened the cover. She saw Delmar's lips twitching. He reached out, and put a hand on the open book.

  "Please don't," Delmar said. "And who will destroy me?" he added, as though he had only just heard what she'd said.

  "Ocher will destroy you," Ajalia said. "You have zero chance against him. You're extremely weak. You can hardly stand to destroy a few books. How will you displace Ocher, who has killed men?"

  "I've killed a man," Delmar said. His voice stretched a little, and broke at the edges.

  "You killed your father," Ajalia said, "at my urging, and under duress, and after he admitted that he wanted you dead. That," she told him, "is a far cry from killing men."

  Delmar's face creased into a long frown.

  "I don't think Ocher has killed anyone," he said slowly. Ajalia pushed Delmar's hand aside, and ripped out the first two pages. "Stop!" Delmar cried. He snatched away the book, and clutched the three thick books to his chest. "These are very important old books," he told Ajalia. "They're special. They're very old."

  "And they're full of lies, and your father used them to hurt you," Ajalia said. Delmar glared at her with blazing eyes.

  "But they're mine," he said.

  "You'll have to stay in the forest," Ajalia told him. "Or you'll have to travel somewhere else. You can't go back to Slavithe like this."

  "Like what?" Delmar demanded. 'They're just books." Ajalia watched the colors in Delmar's soul; she could see several of the rent places healing up; Delmar's skin was beginning to carry a light flush. A sheen of warmth was over his face; he looked fevered.

  "Is it hot inside again?" she asked him. He opened his mouth to reply, and then glowered.

  "That is not the same thing," he said. "I've had a very upsetting day."

  Ajalia wanted to laugh for a long time, but she merely stared at Delmar. Delmar watched her, his face growing darker and angrier.

  "Well," he said, "I have."

  "You're very self-absorbed," she told him finally.

  "Ha!" Delmar said.

  "You kind of are," she said.

  "I fail to see," Delmar said stuffily, "how me protecting what's left of my family is being selfish."

  "You don't like your parents, or you didn't" Ajalia pointed out. "You feared them, and you loved these books. You love these books," she said, correcting herself. "You are not upset about anything to do with your father, or your mother. You don't want to lose these books, because you thought they were your friends. You thought they were real."

  "Well," Delmar said defensively, "they are very old."

  "You told me that Jerome killed his brother," Ajalia said. "You told me that Jerome tried to wipe out every memory of real magic, because he couldn't do any."

  "I never said that," Delmar said. "I didn't tell you that."

  "But you read me that out of the old book," Ajalia said. "You read to me about Bakroth's wife, and she said Jerome would try to destroy everything."

  "Well," Delmar said.

  "Why was this book so hard to find?" Ajalia demanded, pulling the old leather book from her bag. She saw Delmar's eyes go slowly over the black cover. The leather book was slim, and light compared to the other tomes that Delmar had collected. "How do you know your father would have burned these?" she asked.

  "He burned some of them," Delmar said. "But," he added very slowly, and grudgingly, "they looked more like that one."

  "So your father burned the books that were like this, plain, and thin?" Ajalia asked, holding up the black leather book that Bakroth's wife had written. Delmar looked as though it cost him a great deal to do it, but he nodded. "And the other books, the books you rescued," Ajalia went on, "were all like this." She grabbed one of Delmar's books, and held it up beside the slim volume. Delmar's book was heavy and ornate; it was easily four times the size of the slim book, and had thick, expensive paper, and a broad spine.

  "Yes," Delmar said. His eyes went slowly to the books he clutched to his chest. He dropped them slowly down to the forest floor, and opened one of them. "I thought they were real," he said, and tore out a page. Ajalia saw him wince with pain; she looked for the magic lights, and saw a long hole closing up with fire inside of Delmar.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "Help me get it over with," Delmar said, and Ajalia put the slim leather book back into her bag. They ripped through the books slowly.
Delmar fell into a kind of rhythm; he opened the pages of the books, and ripped great swaths of the illustrated text out. After a few moments, his face had turned entirely red, and his breath was coming in spurts. They made a pile of ripped paper; when it had grown a little, Ajalia cleared away the earth around the pile, and got her fire-starting things from where she had hidden them in her bag. She arranged the torn-up papers, and began to strike a flame. Delmar stopped what he was doing, and watched her.

  "I don't want to burn them," he said. He watched as the first sparks flew up. Ajalia had made a gentle hillock of paper fluff; when it caught, she began to feed the other pages into the tiny spurts of flame. "I like my books," Delmar added. He looked distinctly uncomfortable; Ajalia was sure that he was burning up inside. His body looked very warm. She did not look at the fiery lights within his body; she hoped he would not fuss too much over how he felt. She had learned for herself that it was better to let such pain pass through her body, and not to linger over whatever she thought or felt about the sensations.

  "I'm sorry," she said again. Delmar shrugged. He began to rip out the pages again, and feed them straight into the licking fire. Ajalia got up, and found a few dry sticks and scraps of wood. She built a careful fire of twigs around the burning paper, watching the sticks carefully until they were aflame. She took one of the emptied covers of the already-torn books, and took up her knife. She cut the thick fabric cover into strips, and let the pieces curl into blackened shards over the fire. Delmar got up, and stretched his legs. He wandered away through the trees, and returned some time later, carrying a few dry pieces of wood. He fed these into the flames, and cleared a larger space around the fire. Ajalia watched him, her hands busy over the books. She tore out the pages, and put them whole into the fire. Delmar made a wide space around the fire, and then got more sticks, and built up a larger flame. He began to tear the books into great chunks. He shoved them deep into the fire, and placed more loose pages above the now-crackling flames. The fire was growing hot; Ajalia moved back, away from the fire, and watched as Delmar fed the rest of his books into the flames.

  They watched the fire lick away at the paper, and Ajalia breathed in the smell of musty knowledge. She wanted to apologize again, and she wasn't sure why. She looked at Delmar, and saw that he had gotten a twisted look in his eyes; he looked miserable. She drew up a cord of red light from beneath the earth, and put one end of it into the fire. The sparks in the flames flew up, as though they had been blown from beneath, and the fire turned bright gold. Delmar cried out; she looked at him, and saw a set of fresh rents, leaking color like blood, within his body. She dropped the red cord of light, and went to Delmar.