Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3)

by Matt Howerter

  One golden eye peered back at her, and the great feathered head bobbed twice, almost as if the bird had been nodding in agreement.

  Movement in the canopy nearby drew Sacha’s eyes away from Bora and the distant flora. Giant wings blurred by as Rouke and his mount, Ritak, swept in to land on a limb the size of what could have been a “normal” tree back in Pelos. The branch hardly moved as Ritak settled, his talons digging deeply into the maroon bark. Rouke’s mount was much bigger than Bora, but more than size differentiated the two avians. Bora’s plumage tended toward a golden brown, but Ritak’s feathers were dark brown and crimson. The tips of the flight and control feathers were faded to white, giving the great bird an elderly, distinguished look in spite of his spry attitude and nimbleness in the air.

  “Are ya okay, Princess?!” Rouke called. The soldier had been following her as closely as the Rohdaekhann would allow. Even if it had been possible to tether themselves together, there was only so much he could do—the birds were the masters here without a doubt.

  “Yes,” she said, still breathless. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  The tension eased from Rouke’s hardened features, and he smiled as he gestured toward Bora. “Givin’ ya a run worthy of your coin, eh?”

  “That he was, but I think I have his measure,” Sacha replied, patting the great bird’s feathers.

  Bora squawked, flared his chest, and flapped his wings violently.

  Sacha gave a startled squeak and grabbed for the leader hoops wildly before she remembered that she was well and truly secured to the flight harness.

  Rouke laughed good-naturedly. “Ya might want to avoid challenging him just yet, Princess.” The soldier then sobered. “Don’t forget, it’s only through his generous nature that we don’t have to explain why you suddenly can’t ride your favorite mount.”

  Sacha was not likely to forget. The reminder of why these lessons had been required dampened her mood. If events had played out differently, Sacha might have been flying alongside her sister instead of spending the last month learning the skill in secret so that she could convincingly take her sister’s place.

  Sacha remembered vividly Rouke and Alexander discussing her “reintroduction” to the Rohdaekhann one evening. Rouke had suggested that he be allowed to take the princess early, and in private, just in case she should lose her nerve. Later Rouke had told Sacha that once she had left their company, he had implied to the prince that it might be better if his highness did not attend the sessions so that if a problem did arise, the resulting embarrassment would not create undue stress between the newlywed couple.

  Rouke had said Alexander argued the point, but only halfheartedly.

  Sacha had pondered the soldier’s words and found she believed what he had said about the prince’s lack of enthusiasm in joining her. It was most likely that he had agreed to Rouke’s terms because things had not been good between him and Sacha. She had been unable to maintain her part of conversations consistently, and the bedroom had become an arena of frustration for them both.

  After the first week in her new role, she had come to the conclusion that she had to accept his advances, no matter her personal problems. It had not gone well. Despite her best efforts, she had been unable to carry through her role with desire and warmth. In the end, Alexander had knelt before her with pain in his eyes.

  “My love,” he had said, “I cannot know what it is like to have lost a sister, but you have only to tell me if something else plagues you, and I will do my best to help or change.” He searched her face with earnest eyes.

  All Sacha had been able to do was shake her head mutely.

  Alexander bowed his head and breathed deeply. “All will be well, my love.” He stood, drawing her hands up as he did. “You have my pledge and my heart, and my patience. We will overcome this together. You will find that I did not sign on for less than a lifetime.” He bowed to kiss her forehead and retreated to the dressing room to begin his day.

  Since then, he had been as good as his word. He approached her regularly, as a newlywed husband might, and she did her best to meet him. Often as not, though, he would sense her hesitancy and smile gently through frustrated eyes, defaulting to a cradling embrace that she found as comforting as much as it was amazing.

  Alexander approached her reintroduction to the Rohdaekhann with the same grace, promising Rouke to have the aviary cleared of all personnel to honor the privacy his wife might need to regain her confidence in the saddle.

  In the morning while she and Rouke were preparing to leave for “Sloane’s” first flight since the supposed grahl attack, Alexander came to see them off. He strolled into the courtyard with a pleasant expression on his noble features and nodded to each of the guards as he passed. The prince came to a stop not far from Rouke and addressed the soldier with the utmost respect. “You have my thanks, Rouke,” he said. Alexander then turned to Sacha and said, “I know you will do well, my love.” His warm smile touched on both Sacha and Rouke before he turned on his heel and set off at a brisk walk toward one of the many arched doorways. His voice echoed from the surrounding walls just before he made his exit. “Be safe. I eagerly await your return.”

  Sacha’s eyes lingered on the prince as he left. I was wrong, she thought. Alexander is not the man I presumed him to be. The conversation she had had with her mother and sister upon first arriving back in her homeland of Pelos came to mind like a haunting shadow. She had thought Sloane would become a trophy for this prince of Basinia, a plaything to be bartered in exchange for their father’s political gain. She had thought, deep down, that Alexander was like most royalty she had encountered: selfish, arrogant, and cruel. As it turned out, the prince was none of those things. Sacha was beginning to understand and, more importantly, believe Kesh’s words concerning the love her sister had borne for this man and the love the prince felt for her in return. Pretending to love this man might be easier than she thought it would be.

  “That was easier than I thought it’d be,” Rouke said with a bit of disbelief.

  Sacha blinked, her contemplation broken. “What’s that you said?”

  “Nothin’, just afraid he was gonna change his mind,” the soldier replied. Rouke gathered the few pouches he had brought and gestured to one of the archways. “Well, time to be about it.”

  They walked in silence. Sacha was wrapped within her own thoughts, and Rouke played the part of protector and guide. No, not playing, Sacha corrected herself wryly. The soldier was not playing at any sort of role at all. He was protecting the prince’s wife, a person he had come to respect and care for. Sacha had seen it in his eyes when Sloane was murdered. The man had truly sought the well-being of her sister. The fact comforted Sacha, but at the same time ushered in a sense of envy. To find such acceptance and loyalty, whether a person be a ruler or ruled, was rare. In fact, it seemed to Sacha that the rulers had a harder time finding either in true abundance. Yet Sloane had found both in her husband and her protector. Sacha herself had received neither up till now—masquerading as her sister.

  Sacha’s relationship with Rouke was much different than the one she had with Alexander, though. Rouke knew the truth, and still he protected her. It may have been action primarily founded in duty, but Sacha hoped it was also because of the budding friendship she felt. Even if their company had not been a product of obedience, she believed she would have come to like this dependable, stolid man.

  They eventually came to a platform near the top of the citadel. Golden sunlight and cool, fresh air poured down the stairwell as they climbed. In the center of the platform stood a basket woven of wood and metal wrought in the shape of two Rohdaekhann facing away from each other with their wings backswept until the tips touched and intermingled. The nearest bird’s wing was hinged near the breastbone, and the door it formed was flung wide, allowing access. A rope as thick as a man’s leg ascended from a ring at the top of the cage into the sky until it disappeared into the gently waving branches of the great tree’s upper canopy.


  Eos, that’s high, Sacha thought, tracking the length of the rope and watching wind gently blow it to one side then the other.

  She and Rouke took seats on opposite benches. An attendant pushed the bird’s wing shut with a metallic click. An order accompanied by the ringing of a bell heralded a gentle shudder as the basket began to climb into the air. As soon as the watching faces on the landing below had been obscured by distance, the soldier started telling Sacha what to expect in terse, quick terms.

  “The Rohdaekhann ain’t like other birds, Your Highness,” he said. “They’ve minds of their own, and they have to accept you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘accept’ me?” Other than the obvious problems of great heights and an unfamiliar skill set, she had thought this would be most like riding a horse or some other beast of burden.

  “They don’t accept everyone, Princess,” Rouke said. “Matter of fact, they don’t accept most people. On top of that, not every bird thinks the same of every rider.” A note of pride crept into his voice, but he didn’t seem to be seeking praise as he continued, “There are ten Rhadoken that can fly with any of the Rohdaekhann. The prince and myself bein’ two of ’em.”

  “I see,” Sacha said. If the giant birds were that particular, she might not be able to fly at all. “What if I’m rejected?”

  “Well,” Rouke began, clearing his throat. “We might have to run for cover, but most likely not, I’m thinkin’. I think the birds’ll treat ya fair, even if they don’t let ya fly.” He scratched his chin for a moment. “How we explain that to Prince Alexander is a different matter, though. It’ll seem downright suspicious if the Rohdaekhann don’t let ya ride.”

  Sacha nodded. She had had the same thoughts when it came to explaining her failure to fly. If that were to come about, she would have to come up with another excuse or be forced to attempt to convince Vinnicus to help in some way. The thought made her shiver. Dealings with the pale creature were unpleasant to say the least, but she might have no other choice. At the moment, however, she was more concerned about surviving the encounter with the Rohdaekhann.

  “I can only guess what’s goin’ through your head right now, Princess,” Rouke said, apparently noticing Sacha’s discomfort. “But just try to be calm. They took well to your sister, and the two of ya seem similar enough in spirit, which is what counts with the Rohdaekhann.”

  Sacha let out a slow breath. The building tension she felt eased a bit as she pondered Rouke’s words. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Aye,” Rouke said as he looked out beyond the bars of the ornate basket. “That it is, Princess.”

  The world around them began to spread as they crept higher and higher along the trunk of Terrandal. To the north, the Winewood Forest stretched as far as the eye could see, while to the south, flowing fields of wheat and grass did the same. Waterfall Citadel and the great falls had become much too small for Sacha’s liking. Butterflies began to dance within her midsection, and she grasped the wooden bench until her fingers began to ache.

  Rouke’s steady voice helped soothe the flutters, and thankfully, he continued to speak of the summoning lofts and the horn-like instruments that were used to alert the birds. He told her of the way potential riders had to be presented and accepted, then highlighted the lesson by telling of Sloane’s experience.

  “Will I be with a particular bird, or will the pairing be random?” Sacha asked.

  “I’ll be tryin’ to bring your sister’s favorite, Bora, in for ya to become acquainted with,” Rouke said as the basket finally drew near to the underside of the aviary’s wooden floor. A wooden panel slid away from an aperture the rope fed through, revealing a few faces peering over the edge.

  “If you think that’s best,” Sacha said.

  “Bora’s a good bird and hasn’t killed hardly anyone in years.”

  Sacha stared at the armsman in shock.

  Rouke smiled. “It happens, Princess. Not often, but it happens.”

  Sacha gave him a flat look. “That does little to calm my nerves, Rouke.”

  The soldier chuckled. “You’ll do fine, Princess.”

  A bell rang as they passed the opening into the aviary itself. The basket stopped moving with a soft lurch and swayed slightly over the dizzying drop to the platform far, far below.

  Sacha tried not to gawk at her new surroundings. She found herself doing that a lot despite her experience with the grandeur and scale of Stone Mountain and the rest of her home in Pelos. Everything in the palace of Waterfall Citadel was ornate and sweeping in a majesty like that of her home but with a more organic feel to it. The corners met in ways that appeared as if they had grown from some sort of odd, geometric tree rather than having been carved by a craftsman. The aviary was the pinnacle of the sights she had seen thus far. Carved winewood dominated every surface, as she might have expected, but the purpose the structure served at such heights was a true marvel. A giant dowel that ran through the center of the room bore the scars of hundreds of clawed feet and must have been the staging area for the riders to mount the Rohdaekhann. Ladders and stairs ascended to galleries, balconies, and portals throughout the structure, giving the entire edifice a chaotic, energetic feel even though, for the moment, the barn was empty save two people standing near the basket’s entry.

  Sacha tried for a look that wasn’t exactly bored but also not unappreciative of the craftsmanship involved. Next to her, Rouke looked around and waved in greeting to an older, slim, bald man who was pushing a large wooden handle forward. As the handle moved, the doors below the basket came together and settled into the opening with a thump.

  “Scaja!” Rouke said, patting the older man on the shoulder. “Good to see you back. How’s your leg?”

  “Good as it’s gonna be,” Scaja said as he continued to secure several tethers to the basket. “Can’t complain, though.”

  Rouke nodded to Scaja and moved off the platform. “This way, Princess,” he said, gesturing to a set of doors on the opposite side of the aviary.

  Sacha acknowledged the two attendants with a nod, then hurried after Rouke. “What happened to his leg? Did one of the eagles attack him?”

  “No,” Rouke answered. “Fishing accident. Nothin’ to worry about.” He smiled and opened the door. “You can change here. I’ll send Marta in to help you.”

  Sacha eyed him skeptically. She couldn’t tell if he had just lied to her about the old man’s injury but decided if he had, she was probably better off believing him. “Thank you, Rouke.”

  Soon enough, she and Rouke had both been clothed in their flight leathers, and the doors had closed behind the basket as Scaja and Marta descended, leaving them alone in the giant, open space.

  Rouke looked her up and down as they turned from the doors. “You look ready, Princess.” He tapped his fist to his chest. “How’s your heart?”

  Broken almost leapt from her lips, but she managed to twist the grimace into a wan smile and say, “As ready as it will ever be, I suppose.” Sacha took a deep breath and pushed it out forcefully. “What’s next?”

  Instead of answering, Rouke took her to the ladders that ascended through the roof to give access to the summoning bowers. The bower was decked with a simple railing and a giant perching pole similar to the one below. At one end were the odd, flute-like instruments that were used to summon the birds. Rouke showed her the mouthpieces and explained which flutes called which birds, then coached her until she was able to recreate the tune he said was particular to the bird that had been Sloane’s favorite, Bora.

  It might have been an error on her part or the distance of the bird, but it took three repetitions of the melody before a bird’s cry answered her call. The giant eagle flew in on a storm of blowing leaves and feathers that rustled so loudly that it rivaled a wagon rolling on cobbles. Sacha had to squint against the wind as the bird disdained the perch, flapping its wings violently to hover in the air while its great, golden eyes regarded them. There was intelligence in those eyes, she realized.
It was one thing to be told but another entirely to be confronted with the reality of a wild creature that was capable of true reason.

  The bird’s eyes touched on Rouke only briefly before settling on her with a disturbing weight. If ever I wondered how a mouse felt, she thought as her heart thrilled. The railing on the summoning bower seemed a weak and reedy bulwark against the sharp, hooked beak and great claws that grasped at the air as the wings beat powerfully. The great bird thrust itself backward suddenly and wheeled away, diving in through the open doors to the aviary below.

  “So far, so good!” Rouke said, relief on his voice. “Let me whistle up Ritak, and then we’ll be off.” The soldier suited action to words, playing a tune that was substantially different than that which had brought Bora in from the great blue sea above. The tune was an almost staccato march in lieu of the more melodic arrangement that had called Bora. Ritak was apparently close at hand, for a great screeching cry erupted from overhead as the last notes trilled away. The great form of the bird plummeted by the bower, unhesitating, and flew in after Bora.

  “Guess he knew I was here.” Rouke shrugged easily and guided Sacha back to the ladder. “He’ll not stop to say hello if he’s already seen me.”

  The eagles were perched below on the great dowel that centered the aviary. Ritak, the larger, was grooming the head and shoulders of the smaller bird, but both heads pivoted to watch their approach. Soft growling chirps came from the birds as Rouke and Sacha made their way to them.

  Sacha followed Rouke’s lead as he showed her the harness storage and found the correct gear for their birds.

  “Usually we’d have a lot of help, but this is good,” Rouke said as they carried the gear across the floor under the intense scrutiny of the two giant birds. “The more you work with the Rohdaekhann, the easier they’ll be in your company. That’s one thing they have in common with horses—”

  A churlish squawk interrupted Rouke, and he laughed. “Your pardon, Master Ritak.” Ritak’s head was turned almost entirely upside down, staring unblinkingly at them. The soldier bowed to the giant bird. “No offense intended,” he finished.