Talon: The Windwalker Archive (Book 1)

by Michael Ploof

  “Leave me alone!” Talon screamed in rage as he tried to put the ring on his middle finger.

  A giant brown bear larger than the mightiest Vald, crashed through the wood to the left of the road and attacked Vaka Groegon sending the whip flying. One big clawed paw came down and shredded his face. Groegon howled like a man on fire as the bear smothered him beneath its massive weight and took his head in its huge jaws. The horse bolted down the road and Talon scuttled backward through the mud in shock. He turned from the horrific scene and sprinted down the road from the mines. Behind him the crack and crunch of bones followed the last of Vaka Groegon’s screams.

  Chapter 19

  High Vaka Moontooth

  Hawkrider! What illusions are these? Can such dreams be real?

  —Gretzen Spiritbone, 4978

  Talon ran until his lungs burned and he fell to the road panting. He tore the ring from his pocket and clutched it in his shaking fist. He had run many miles and was nearly to the Skomm village. He had passed Vaka Groegon’s horse, which stood by the side of the road eating small apples.

  He held the ring out before him again in wonder. Had Kyrr somehow summoned the bear to his aid? He thought not. After he had taken off running, he realized the bear was the same one from the cave—Beorn, Azzeal had called him. Had Beorn been looking out for him? If so, why?

  He pondered this and many other questions as he made his way to Majhree’s house of healing. In the heat of the moment he had forgotten about the whipping. Now that the drama had passed, his burning skin reminded him of the flogging he had taken.

  When he arrived at Majhree’s, she gave him the same look she always did when he arrived there beaten and bloody, but she asked no questions. His right ear had been torn in the middle and needed stitches, and a few of the lacerations had bitten deep. She gave him a few swigs of rum for the pain and applied salve where needed.

  Talon lay on his stomach that night, thinking of the ring in his pocket. He had been prepared to use it against Vaka Groegon. To what end, though, he wondered. Azzeal had warned him to use Kyrr wisely. Groegon wouldn’t have killed him there on the road and risk the wrath of Fylkin, who wanted Talon for himself. Talon had almost gotten himself in much more trouble than a whipping at the hands of the hateful Vaka. Even if the ring worked, he would have made its existence known, unless he killed Groegon, which he did not think he could do no matter how much he hated the man. Even if he could, what would he have done with the body? He reminded himself to be much more careful in the future.

  Jahsin came barging in the door shortly after sundown. He scanned the many beds and found Talon with a sigh of relief.

  “There you are!” he puffed and came to sit beside him.

  “Couldn’t find you anywhere, so I came here,” said Jahsin inspecting the fresh whip marks on his back. “What happened?”

  Talon glanced around the room. Two of the other cots were taken. One held a man with a bandaged head, who Majhree said might not wake up. The other held a woman recovering from a whipping also.

  “Can’t talk here,” Talon whispered.

  Jahsin’s eyes searched his. “They found Vaka Groegon dead on Mine Road; they say he got mauled by a bear. Still some pieces missing.”

  “Ironic,” Talon replied. “He was from Bear Tribe.”

  Jahsin smiled faintly, his eyes asking Talon too many questions.

  “Not here,” said Talon.

  Jahsin nodded. He looked knowingly at Talon’s bandaged ear but didn’t press the subject.

  “Well, here.” Jahsin offered up the dwarven whiskey. “Thought it would help with the pain; only a little but left, but…”

  The door slammed open and two Vaka barged into the house of healing. Jahsin put himself between them and Talon as Majhree shuffled over quickly.

  “We are looking for Talon, Plagueborn of Timber Wolf Village?” said a skinny man nearly as tall as a Vald.

  The other Vaka, this one a short and stocky man, grabbed Jahsin by the shirt and pushed him through the door. “You ain’t hurt, Draugr; get yourself gone ’fore you is.”

  “What’s this about?” Majhree demanded.

  “Ain’t none of your business, hunchback,” said the skinny man eyeing Talon.

  “I am Talon,” he said, sitting up.

  “Come with us,” said the stocky Vaka.

  Talon had never ridden a horse before. The Vaka, however, had insisted that he get on. As they passed the unmarked boundaries of the Timber Wolf part of the Skomm village, Talon assumed they were headed for Vaka Kastali. The walk would have taken up to an hour, but the horses cut the time in half. Talon sat in front of the skinny Vaka, and the glances he got from the passing Skomm filled him with foreboding.

  They reached Vaka Kastali, and Talon was tossed from the saddle and luckily landed well on his feet. His hand had been in his pocket the entire time, the ring dancing upon the end of his finger.

  “Follow me,” said the stocky Vaka.

  He led him through the big doors and into the vast, tavern-like common room. As before, women danced in cages scattered throughout the room, and minstrels played a joyful tune. He recognized many of the Vaka present. At the moment about twenty of them lounged in the common room.

  The Vaka led Talon up the stairs as before, but rather than bring him to the same room, he led him down a long hallway with doors on either side. At the end of the hall, the Vaka stopped and unlocked a door. He stepped aside to let Talon in but did not follow. The door closed behind him and Talon froze.

  Akkeri stood before him.

  “Akkeri?” he asked, nearly breathless.

  She smiled at him and ran across the room to hug him.

  “Akkeri,” he said into her hair as he held her tight. Her hair still smelled of lilies.

  In the next moment he found they were kissing. He could have died then and there and he would have died happy. Soon, the reality of the situation set in, and the kiss turned frantic. He never wanted to let her go again now that he had her in his arms once more.

  They parted slowly and his head swam as if drunk. Her green eyes held his in a loving gaze, and Talon fell in love all over again. Passion burned in him so strongly in her presence that he ached.

  “How is this possible?” he asked her, inspecting the room for the first time.

  A bed sat in the corner with a wash basin beside it. At the foot of the bed, on a small table, a lantern burned low. A circular window faced south. Talon realized the room was one of the Vaka’s pleasure rooms, and his cheeks and ears became hot.

  “I don’t know,” said Akkeri. “They came for me a few hours ago and put me in this room. They kept a burlap sack over my head the whole time. What could it mean?”

  “I have no clue,” he said, holding her close. “But if they come to kill us, I’ll be ready.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sounds crazy, but I met an…”

  The door opened suddenly and the stocky Vaka looked in.

  “High Vaka Moontooth will see you now.”

  Talon put himself between Akkeri and the stalky man.

  “She’s coming with me,” Talon dared to say. His fist clenched the ring in his pocket.

  “I can come and get you. The result will be the same; only you will be bloody,” the Vaka warned.

  “It’s all right, Talon,” she assured him.

  He whirled on her. “I’m not losing you again!”

  “Move your arse, boy!” the Vaka said behind him.

  “Go, find out what he wants; he brought us here for a reason,” Akkeri pleaded.

  Talon’s mind screamed for him to put on the ring and flee with Akkeri. But he knew they would never make it. Their plan did not include fleeing from the middle of Skomm Village all the way to the docks. And he still needed to free Chief.

  “Scream if they try anything. I’ll hear you and I will come,” said Talon.

  The Vaka scoffed and laughed behind them as they shared a long good-bye kiss. Talon forced hims
elf to let her go and walked to the door. He stopped at the threshold to gaze upon her for what he hoped was not the last time.

  He was led to a room two doors down to the left. The Vaka knocked on the door and it opened shortly. A beady eyed man stood in the doorway; his nose was like a beak. He looked Talon up and down, moved to let him in, and extended a hand to a tall desk at which sat a big Vaka.

  “Thank you, Fyrfang,” said the man behind the desk.

  “High Vaka Moontooth,” said the stocky man taking his leave.

  The door closed and the beak-nosed man remained standing by the door. Talon inwardly marveled at all of the strange things in the room. The desk was smooth and polished, with patterns of leaf and vine throughout. He guessed the desk and the other pieces in the room to be Agoran furnishings. A long chair covered in a plush fabric unlike any fur he was familiar with, sat against the back wall. A large map of Agora covered the wall behind the desk, and a chandelier of many candles hung from the high ceiling. Lining the walls were a variety of animals, some familiar, others exotic. They were obviously dead, with their unmoving eyes and bodies positioned as if they were walking. On the floor between Talon and the man behind the desk lay a large, black bearskin rug.

  “Have a seat,” the man behind the desk offered with an extended hand.

  Talon eyed the finely crafted chair and the man in turn. He looked to be in his forties. He wore a strange, wide-brimmed hat, with dark hair flecked with silver at the temples. A thick, black braid curled over his left shoulder. His hairless face was hard edges and shadows, his eyes bright and piercing. He wore three rings through his bottom lip, and a tattoo of a bear paw adorned the hollow of his neck.

  Talon stood staring, and the beak-nosed man behind him stirred. The man behind the desk lifted a hand to the Vaka and smiled at Talon.

  “Please, we mean you no harm. I am High Vaka Moontooth. I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time. Unfortunately the fates did not see fit until now. Sit.”

  Talon walked cautiously to the chair, keeping the man behind him in the corner of his eye. His hand never left the ring. Moontooth reached into a cabinet to his left and came away with two glasses chiseled like gems.

  “It’s called crystal,” said Moontooth, following his gaze. His voice seemed jovial, with a warm timbre mixed with authority. He poured red wine into the two glasses and, lifting partially out of his chair, he handed one to Talon. He took the glass with a nod.

  “I don’t like to do business with a man I haven’t seen drunk. Tells you a lot about a person,” he smiled. “To enemies of our enemies,” he added, lifting his glass.

  Business? Talon wondered.

  Talon lifted his glass and drank with the High Vaka. He didn’t drink liquor often, aside from Jahsin’s dwarven whiskey and whatever the Skomm villagers cooked up from fermented fruit. Most of the harsh spirits made Talon sick immediately, and many were said to be able to make a person blind. The High Vaka’s wine turned out smooth and tangy with a faint bite after the swallow.

  “Shierdonian goat cheese?” Moontooth offered, indicating a plate set upon the desk among odds and ends.

  “Thank you,” said Talon, taking a small piece.

  “Tell me about yourself, Talon. What do you want out of life on our wonderful rock?”

  The question gave Talon pause; he glanced behind him to the other Vaka but found no mirth on his stoic face. He regarded Talon from a sidelong angle like a crow.

  “I want to be left alone,” Talon finally answered and took another drink of the wine.

  Moontooth chuckled and extended the bottle to top off his glass.

  “Of course, what man doesn’t want peace and quiet?”

  “Why did you bring Akkeri here? Why did you let me see her?” Talon blurted out.

  Moontooth took a long drink of his wine and held it up to the light. He swirled it for a moment, pondering.

  “Do you smoke?” he asked.

  Talon shook his head.

  Moontooth withdrew a pipe and tobacco bag from a desk drawer and went to work meticulously packing the bowl. Talon became invisible in the midst of the man’s focus. Only when he had put the bag away and brought the pipe to his lips did Moontooth acknowledge him again. He tilted a candle and lit the pipe, careful not to let wax drip into it. The High Vaka puffed up a fiery cherry and eyed Talon through a haze of silver smoke that hung around them like early morning mist upon a mountainside.

  “I’ve a proposal for you,” he said finally.

  Talon took another drink of the wine, listening.

  “We have a common enemy, Chiefson Fylkin Winterthorn. I’ve been High Vaka for ten years. Like you, I have gained the disfavor of our future chief. When he takes the mantle of his father, I will cease to be High Vaka, and that will not do.”

  “You want to make sure Fylkin never becomes chief?”

  “I want him dead,” Moontooth said, slamming the desk. The ferocity in his eyes quickened Talon’s heart.

  “Where do I come in?”

  Moontooth shrugged and took another drink; Talon followed him. “It’s no secret that Fylkin took your woman and plans to kill you during Freista. He’s made it quite plain to the Vaka: you are not to be killed by any but him, on pain of castration. He seems to have taken a special interest in you.”

  Talon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The wine had gotten to his head, true, but this was something out of a dream—nearly as unbelievable as meeting an elf in a cave.

  He loosened the grip on the ring in his pocket.

  “You want me to be your bait?”

  “Exactly,” grinned Moontooth. One of his teeth was covered in silver.

  “I control everything on this heap, from grain supplies to liquor. My eyes and ears are everywhere. For instance, I learned from Vaka Bjorn that you and your friend are planning to escape Volnoss on a one-sailed keipr.”

  Talon could not hide his anger at the perceived betrayal. Jahsin had been right about Vaka Bjorn. How could he have been such an idiot, asking Bjorn questions as if he were his friend, trusting him?

  “He brought the idea to my attention. Bjorn is a good man, and quite perceptive. We’re not all bad you know.”

  They shared another drink and Moontooth filled their glasses once more.

  “I can ensure that you make it off this island, you and your friends and that wolf of yours—if it hasn’t been turned into one of the hunting wolves by then.”

  How in the hells does he know about Chief even? Talon wondered.

  “By when?” he asked.

  “Freista, of course,” said Moontooth.

  “Why then?”

  “We need you to lead Fylkin into a trap. Into the mines, to be exact. You will lead him in, and when you are safely out, we will blast the Feikinstafir all the way to Val’Kharae. I got two dragonsbreath sticks with his name on them.”

  “How do I know you won’t blow up the mine with me inside?” Talon dared ask.

  “Because my word is as good as gold…and you have no choice.”

  “What about Akkeri? I won’t see her given back to Fylkin.”

  “Fylkin is away with his father to meet with Bear Tribe. He will return in two days. When he does, Akkeri needs to be there.”

  “No,” Talon said, slamming his glass down on the desk. He knew he was a little drunk, for he never would have spoken so to the High Vaka if he were sober.

  “I can assure you she has not been touched. Fylkin may be a monster, but he’s a monster with standards, nonetheless. He would no sooner bed a Skomm than he would a dog. Ask her yourself. She can gain him good coin at the slave market, even with that scar on her face from Vaka Brekken, but if she’s…spoiled, she won’t sell as high.”

  Talon wanted to believe him more than he wanted anything at that moment. All of those long weeks, he had imagined nothing but the worst.

  “That’s the deal; take it or leave it. Lead Fylkin to the mines and to his death. When he is confirmed dead, we will see y
ou safely off Volnoss to start a new life on Agora. Hells, I’ll even set you off right with some coin in your pocket—enough to set you up in any city for a month.” he said with one hand sweeping toward the map behind him. “She will be returned to Fylkin before his return, and you will return to your daily life until Freista. Tonight you can both stay in the room. But she must remain unseen; there are select few Vaka privy to our plans, and I would keep it that way. What say you, Talon Windwalker?”

  Talon straightened at the mention of his full name. With the High Vaka on his side, there was a far better chance they would get away. And the man might help with Chief.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Moontooth extended his hand across the desk and they shook.

  “Of course you will,” he grinned.

  Chapter 20

  A Night to Remember

  Sjofn, Goddess of Love, why do you tempt him so? Forbidden, the child with hair of dancing flame. He shall scour the world for his son.

  —Gretzen Spiritbone, 4996

  Talon returned to the room to find Akkeri sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. Her red curls fell about her shoulders like exotic furs, and her scared face sent a pang through Talon’s heart. The door closed behind him and the lock was engaged. They raced across the room and embraced once more.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  They sat on the bed and he told her what High Vaka Moontooth had offered. Halfway through the story, a knock came at the door. Talon got up and hesitantly opened it. Vaka Fyrfang handed him a tray of food and a pitcher and silently left. The lock sounded and Talon returned with the tray containing of a loaf of bread, exotic fruits, a variety of cheeses, and half a roasted chicken. The pitcher contained cold water. They supped and they drank and Talon finished his story. They had both been famished, and by the time the tale ended, only scraps and bones remained on the tray.