The great bird was perched atop the small formation of rocks by the camp. It was the first time Finn had seen it outside the cage. It was much larger than he remembered. The bird's body was the size of a small horse or pony. Its wings wrapped its sides but, judging by its body, Finn imagined its wingspan was enormous. The falcon's feathers were a deep maroon with brown strips layering its chest and stomach. Its almond-shaped eyes were like large black disks. A patch of bright red skin encased them. Its beak was faded black and curved down to a point in the front. The great bird had massive claws that latched onto the rock. They actually dug into the rock. The talons were razor sharp. Finn could see the sun reflect brightly from them, like the steel of a highly polished blade. The slavers stood no chance against the falcon. It had sliced through them like a sword to melted wax.
“Easy,” Finn said to the bird.
The falcon tilted its head, as it looked Finn in the eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Finn.
He felt the bird had no fear of him. It clicked in a deep tone and scratched one of its talons against its beak.
“You probably have no idea what I'm saying. Thank you, though. You saved my life.”
Finn turned to leave. He had to find Nylah. However, he turned back to the bird once more.
“I'm truly glad you are free. Go somewhere that you will never be bothered or caught again.”
Finn turned back around and walked towards the path. He put the dagger under his belt and carried the sword. He had no real idea what he would do or how he planned to free Nylah. However, he could not just leave her. Finn felt a deep connection to her.
She is a part of me now.
Finn heard the beating of the great bird's wings. He turned long enough to see the Blood Falcon effortlessly lift itself into the air. It let the wind do the work for it. The bird lifted with the wind like a kite high into the clouds. Its wings only beat for minor readjustments. It let out a deep cry, as it flew between the clouds. It was one of the most graceful things Finn had ever seen.
“Goodbye, friend.”
Finn began to back-track the best he could. He went south staying off the roads. However, he stayed close enough to be aware of any travelers. He did not want to risk passing Nylah if she was split from the other prisoners as he had been. Finn walked for two days and did not see a single traveler. He thought people were either hiding, caught, making their way to safer lands, or dead. Finn did not know what lands would be safer. Was this strictly an attack on the Southern Realm or was it all of Altaris? He decided to concentrate on freeing Nylah. He would worry about where to go once they were safely away from the gorgons. In truth, he had no real idea how to rescue her. She was traveling with an entire battalion of gorgons. Finn knew that, whatever plan he might devise, it would have to happen at night. He had to find them without them finding him first. Finn knew from when he was a prisoner that gorgon scouting parties kept joining the others. He had to make sure he did not wander into a small gorgon raiding party.
Hunger and exhaustion began to set in. Finn started to feel pangs of frustration and despair. How could he think of freeing Nylah when he could barely move? His throat felt swollen from thirst and there was a throbbing in his head from hunger. Finn had eaten what berries he could find but they were scarce. He had no bow, spear, or any real means of hunting. He had seen a few squirrels and rabbits, but was unable to catch them.
If I do not eat soon, I will die.
Finn made his camp in a dense part of the forest. There were two wide trees whose trunks broke off into larger roots. The roots jutted out into the ground like thick fingers pressed into sand. They would block any fire from being seen on the road. A fallen tree laid on the ground with underbrush and plants growing over it. Finn had planned to make a fire, but he was too tired. The moment he sat down with his back to one of the large trees, he had no desire to move. They were Dower trees so the bark was not hard like other trees. Instead, they were quite soft to the touch. Some called them Sleep trees for this reason. Finn laid back and closed his eyes. He felt so weak. He knew he was falling asleep; he hoped he would be able to awaken.
Finn did not remember falling asleep, but it couldn't have been for long. There was still the hint of the evening sun glimmering sleepily on the gray and maroon horizon. Finn was startled. He woke from his sleep in an instant. He heard the rumbling of the great falcon overhead. Its wings swirled the air around it. He felt wind forced down with each flap of the bird's wings. Finn put his hands to his ears. He was too weak to deal with another high pitched shriek. For a moment, Finn wondered if the Blood Falcon had planned on killing him. There was not much in the way of food that he had seen. An object fell from the sky cracking branches on the way down. Finn jumped to his feet; his heart pounded in his chest. The object hit the ground with a dull thud. The falcon made a low noise and landed softly on a fallen tree. It buckled and snapped under the bird’s weight. Finn could see blood dripping from the falcon’s beak.. One of its claws clutched a mass of fur and meat. It looked like part of a bear or large goat. Finn quickly glanced at the ground to see what had fallen. It was the hind quarter of a deer or, judging by the size of it, a stag. It was as if the rump and one leg were cut with a butcher's blade. The cuts were made by something sharp and precise. The deer had probably never even known the falcon had killed it. It was alive one moment and simply dead the next. Finn felt his stomach begin to ache for food.
“Is this for me? You have been busy haven't you?”
The bird lifted its claw and pulled at the meat with its beak. Finn slowly pulled the deer's leg to him. He did not want to misjudge the falcon. He was not sure if this was truly meant for him. However, to Finn's astonishment, the great falcon continued to rip strips of flesh and meat from what it had in its claw.
You did bring this for me.
Finn quickly removed his chipped dagger from his belt and began to dress the deer leg. It was not long until deer meat crackled above the fire. Finn could not wait for it to fully cook. He kept cutting small strips of meat that looked ready. He cut them as quickly as could to keep from burning his fingers. He ate all there was to eat of the deer. Finn slept more soundly that night than he had in a long while.
Finn walked a much greater distance the next three days. His stride had returned somewhat. The wound on his shoulder had not festered. It was healing nicely with only a slight bruising. He was relieved because he had heard of others dying from infected wounds that were much smaller. Finn had still not seen a single traveler along the road. There was only one other that he continued to see. The Blood Falcon. It never strayed too far from him. He could see it in the sky. It would leave him for a few hours but would always return. The falcon brought him a boar the next night, which Finn had eaten greedily. He did not know what connection the great beast had made with him, but it seemed to be watching over him. He had secretly fed the falcon mice and squirrels while at the castle. He had also freed the bird from its cage. However, Finn would never have thought the Blood Falcon would actually know or remember him. Finn enjoyed the bird's watchfulness. It made him feel a little less alone. The bird could also prove useful when he caught up the gorgon horde. One shriek from the falcon could drop hundreds to their knees. Finn knew this firsthand.
It was the early afternoon when Finn heard someone else. It was a scream, a woman's scream. It did not sound like someone startled. It was a scream full of distress and panic. Finn looked towards the direction of the sound, but only saw the forest. It was like the voice of haunted souls calling out from under the trees. It rang out again! Finn looked but saw nothing. Then, a shadowy glimpse shot across the corner of Finn's sight. He turned looking harder. Finn began to run in that direction. The scream came again, but this time he heard more than a woman's voice. Finn slowed his running. It would be no use running into a group of gorgons or Skin Slavers. He heard the sounds of a struggle.
Finn could see three figures in the forest, two men and a woman. The men were not S
kin Slavers or gorgons. A heavy set man was holding the woman down. He was behind her with his knees on her arms. His flesh was pale and a bulge of stomach dripped over his leather britches. His hair was red. He wore a full beard with a scar across his left check that did not allow any hair to grow. The other man was thinner and dirty. He had dull green eyes that sunk-in deeply. His pants hung below his buttocks. He laughed while thrusting deeply into the shaking woman. Her screaming had turned to sobs and sudden fits of anger.
“Easy there. The more you fight … the longer I go.”
The other man laughed.
“Hurry up, Bromley. I need a turn at this lass,” said the other man.
“They'll be nothing left but a soggy tear when I'm done.”
Both men laughed, as the woman tried to move one of her legs to kick Bromley. He stopped thrusting and hit her. It was a hard hit. The woman let out a grunt. She quit fighting. Finn felt anger rising in his body. It was like back at the gorgon camp. He was angry. Finn had no real training with a sword. He was a hunter, a falconer. He gripped tightly to the bone hilt of his dagger. The blade pointed down from his hand rather than up. He had seen soldier's holding it this way. Finn held his sword in his other hand. He had to do this fast. There was no room for a mistake. He could not fight two men. He did not like how the men were distracted. But, they were indeed distracted.
Bromley's body stiffened with satisfaction and froze. Finn seized the opportunity. He thrust his sword into Bromley's back. It hit bone but slide between and sank deeply into his body. The man yelled in agony. The portly man released the woman and began to rise to his feet. The woman rolled away kicking him. Finn quickly ran to the man. He had already risen to his feet. He saw Finn and turned to run. However, Finn drove the dagger into the man's back. The dagger was sharper than the sword. If it hit bone, Finn could not feel it. The man did not yell but rather let out a cough. He turned before Finn could pull the dagger out. The man looked bewildered. He coughed again. This time blood spat from his mouth. He put his hand to his mouth and then looked at the blood. He turned and tried to run. The man fell twice but continued to move forward in a clumsy manner. There was sudden rush of wind. Finn saw the falcon swoop down and rake one claw against the man. It did not pick him up, but rather drug one of its talons across the man. Finn saw one of the man's arms fall before the rest of his body. The man fell and did not rise. The falcon was already back in the sky over the forest.
The woman looked around. She felt her face. Her woolen dress was still pushed up over her waist. The hair between her legs was dark and abundant. Finn could see blood smeared on her thighs. He turned his head but realized the woman might need help standing.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Finn.
He moved to her holding out his hands. She pulled down her dress and began to sob.
“Do you live near here?”
“Yes. He … he spilt his seed,” she said crying. She wiped herself with her dress.
Finn gently knelt down and picked the woman up. She was not heavy at all. He could tell up close that she was not much older than he. She had olive skin and brown eyes. Her black hair had been braided and twisted up before the men attacked. Finn did not know what to say to the woman. He felt regret for not finding her sooner or killing Bromley quicker.
“Show me where you live.”
Chapter 18
A Struggling Village
The morning was very gray. A breeze brought a slight chill to the air. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds; a storm lingered on the horizon. Matthias and Luras had only been up for a while. They looked like shadowy figures moving through a deserted forest. The Woodlanders had outfitted them well. Luras wore a well-oiled black leather tunic with metal ringlets along the chest, deep brown leather pants and a pair of finely crafted riding boots that fit him perfectly. He wore a dark green cloak made of thick wool. Luras now had two thin sabers that had been intricately smithed. Their blades were thin but incredibly sharp. The sabers’ sheaths were not made to lay at the waist but rather crossed Luras' back. Each sabers’ hilt jutted out from under his cloak. Matthias could tell that the blades were not made in the four realms. They were most likely crafted in the lower archipelagos south of the realms. They must have been brought north by traders. Of course, this was before the Woodlanders took them.
Matthias was astonished at the hoard of items the Woodlanders had amassed. Their storehouse of treasure was in a cave that was a day's walk from their camp. It was overflowing with weapons, jewelry, coins, cooking supplies, and anything else they could carry. The Woodlanders had given them a small bag of coins to use on their way. Matthias had found a vest made of leather with metal strips on the front and back. He wore it over a woolen tunic that had been dyed a deep maroon. He too wore a cloak, but his was made of thin leather with a woolen lining. It was a dark brown. Matthias had a large greatsword strapped to his back. Its hilt was made to look like a horse rearing on its hind legs. The sheath was leather with a picture of a herd of wild horses etched across it. Matthias almost did not take the sword because it was too distinguishable. The owner would recognize it off hand. However, Weyton told him that it had been in their storehouse for quite some time. The owner was mostly dead. Matthias found the sword too balanced to leave behind. He also took an axe and a dagger, which he slid under this belt.
“We should be out of the Greenling by the day's end. The road should lay just beyond the forest,” said Matthias.
“How far is the village from there?”
“Not far. We should be eating a warm meal by midday,” said Matthias.
“You should continue north with me, Matthias. There will be others like us.”
“I will leave the fighting to god and kings.”
Luras did not press the issue. Instead, he pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders to keep warm.
“It will storm today,” said Luras.
“It seems so. The sky is darkening.”
The sky had grown much darker by the time they reached the road. It still had not rained, but there was a low rumble announcing it would soon. The road was little more than a wagon trail. It was overgrown with weeds. There were two thin dirt wheel paths that had been worn down. Matthias and Luras had not followed the road long before they could see small trails of chimney smoke drifting up like twisting vines into the expanse of dark sky.
“We're close,” said Matthias.
“Should I let you go in first?” asked Luras.
“You can't hide forever.”
“My kind has hidden for a thousand years.”
“You are the only Bourne in the four realms … probably, the only in the world. You are no longer your kind. It's just you. Anyway, I think people will be more interested than scared.”
“We will soon see,” said Luras.
“Besides, we have to eat.”
The village was small. By appearance, it was mostly made up of farmers and craftsmen. The homes were no larger than one or two rooms at most. Their walls were a mix of mud and clay with wooden beams for foundation and support. They had thatched roofs that were strapped down with leather and rope. Many of the homes had a small pen for pigs and a chicken coup. The road that went through the village was much wider than the trail that led to the village. It was lined with limestone. The road itself had a faint glimmer due to granite stones being pounded into the dirt road. The stones kept it from washing away. The road circled through the village and led back to the main road. There was a small tavern in the center of the village and beside it sat what was either a church or a small meeting hall. Empty craft booths and merchant tables were setup in the center of the town. A skinny dog wandered through the outskirts of the village. It stopped to look at Luras and Matthias as they approached the village. It tilted its head slightly and studied the new arrivals. However, it lost interest and continued on its way.
“Where is everyone?” asked Luras.
“Inside, perhaps? The tavern is there. We can eat and get ro
oms for the night. The storm will bear down hard,” said Matthias.
The two walked down the road. A light rain began to fall; it was almost a heavy mist. A rumbling of thunder shook the ground, causing the pigs and chickens to stir uneasily in their pens.
“Something is not right,” said Luras.
“State your business,” said a gruff voice behind them.
The two turned to see a large man approaching. He carried a poorly-crafted spear and wooden shield. His boots were dirty and caked with mud.
“It’s ok. He’s not a fighter. He looks like a farmer,” Matthias said to Luras.
“State your business,” the man repeated.
“State your business,” said Matthias. “Where is everyone?”
“I am an alderman of this village. We are not taking kindly to strangers these days. I suggest you keep on your way.”
Matthias heard the draw of a bowstring. Another man was standing behind a wagon with a notched arrow ready for release. A third man appeared on the road in front of them. He was a heavy set man with a wide jaw and thick eyebrows. He held a large two-handed axe meant for trees.
“You're an alderman. Where's your townspeople? I don't see any villagers. Are these the two men that voted for you?” said Matthias.
Luras started to intervene but he could see that Matthias was comfortable in these situations. He looked as if he could kill each man there at any time.
“Leave us be. It’s not that we do not trust you. We do not trust anyone right now,” said the large man with the axe.
A Dark Tyranny Page 13