Exodus: The Windwalker Archive: Book 3 (Legends of Agora)

by Michael James Ploof

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  The night was quiet. The trees remained motionless in the still air. There were still a few Skomm coming and going, but they saw no Vaka when they stepped out of the healing house and began south toward the mine road.

  Majhree shuffled beside Talon, doing her best to keep at a fairly brisk pace as they moved from shadow to shadow. The walk from the house of healing to the beginning of the mine road was no more than ten minutes, but at that moment it seemed to take forever. They kept to the allies between huts whenever possible, but soon they were forced into the open spaces as the village became less dense and began to open to the southern forest.

  Soon they left the safety of the village altogether and began the dangerous walk through the wide open area between the village and the mouth of the forest pass. As they drew closer, Talon began to dare hope that they would make it, but then the crack of a whip caused them both to jump. Majhree was the first to turn around and face the Vaka.

  “What is it?” she asked with an annoyed slice to her words. “I’ve got a Vaka needs a treatment of Widow’s Lilly, else his foot’s going to rot off.”

  Talon turned to see two Vaka on horseback slowly approaching them.

  “Majhree, that you? Who’s that with ya?” asked the Vaka to the left.

  “Of course it’s me. You know any other hunchback old ladies?”

  “Don’t be smart, eh. You ain’t above gettin’ a floggin’,” said the Vaka to the right. “He asked you a question. Who’s that there?”

  “One of my apprentices. I’m no spring chicken, you know. Now if you don’t mind—”

  “I ain’t heard of no Vaka got a rot in his foot. You, Targ?”

  The other Vaka shook his head.

  “Come on over here, boy,” said Targ.

  Talon had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but he needed to get rid of these men quickly. He got between the Vaka and Majhree, placed his hands beside his hidden daggers, and suddenly called to Chief.

  There was a blue streak of light from the woods one moment, and the next, Chief slammed into Vaka Targ and rode him to the ground. Before the man could cry out in alarm, Chief had torn out his throat. The other Vaka went for his sword as Talon charged, but a bolt from a crossbow suddenly hit the man square between the eyes.

  “Come on!” Talon told a startled-looking Majhree and grabbed her hand. He led her to the road quickly and began scouring the sky above.

  A disturbance shook the trees, and Majhree gave a small cry when two silver hawks appeared on the road ahead.

  “Hurry,” said Talon, glancing back every other second toward the village.

  Han leapt off his mount and ran over to help Talon get Majhree up into the saddle. Her condition made it hard for her to move certain ways, but between the three of them, they got her strapped into the secondary saddle.

  Talon took his seat and slapped the reins. Brightwing got a running start down the road and leapt. Three swift beats of her wings brought them above the trees, causing Majhree to take in an excited breath.

  “Oh, my boy!” Majhree shrieked as they climbed higher and higher still. She clung to Talon so hard that he could hardly breathe.

  When the silver hawks leveled out, Majhree let go slightly.

  “It’s alright, you’re safe,” Talon assured her, gently patting her hand.

  “I’m flying, Talon. I’m flying away from the village. It’s like a dream.”

  Talon grinned to himself. To see Majhree so happy filled him with such joy that he thought his heart might burst.

  They put down outside of Beorn’s Cave, and Talon helped her down. Majhree was shaking like a fall leaf in a windstorm.

  “Are you alright?” Talon asked.

  “That…that was amazing,” she said. Tears had run down her face and dried in the wind, causing long streaks down her cheeks from the heavy coloring she favored around her eyes. “It was like seeing through the eyes of a god.”

  “It takes some getting used to.”

  She suddenly clutched his shirt. “Was that a spirit who done in Vaka Targ?”

  “It was my spirit wolf, Chief.”

  Majhree shook her head, quite overwhelmed by it all. “The stories you must have,” she said with a click of her tongue.

  “I’ll tell it all to you soon. But for now I need you to make haste to intercept Freedom. One of the riders is going to bring you.”

  “I get to ride on one of those again?” she asked, delighted.

  Talon laughed. “For longer than you might like.”

  “Well then, the stories can wait. I’ll take good care of your Akerri until you get back.”

  “Thanks, Majhree.”

  She put a hand on his cheek and kissed the other. “Mind you come back, ya hear?”

  “I will, I promise.”

  She looked at him with understanding and nodded—he couldn’t promise such a thing, and they both knew it.

  Without another word, she let herself be led to another silver hawk, this one belonging to Haze. He waved from on high before they left and nodded to Talon. “Give the chiefson hells.”

  Talon watched them go, and a weight lifted from his heart. Knowing that Majhree would soon be at Akerri’s side gave him peace of mind and quieted some of his anxiety. However, now was the moment he had dreaded the most.

  It was time to face his father.

  Chapter 34

  A Blackened, Bitter Heart

  I watched Kreal Windwalker for many years, and though I never spoke to the Vald man, I believe that I got to know him well. I wish I had known him before the tragedy of the frozen plague, for I sometimes saw a light in his eyes and a rare smile come from the man that could brighten a room. Usually, however, he stayed to himself and drank strong spirits. Sometimes, late at night, I found him beside his hut on the hill screaming to the gods and cursing Thodin.

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  Talon dressed in his armor once more, wanting his father to see the warrior he had become. But thinking of the encounter made him feel small, weak, and not much like a warrior at all.

  What am I without Kyrr, without Chief?

  He tried to quiet the negative thoughts, but they were as old a habit as tying his boots.

  When he had slipped on all his armor, he checked his daggers once more before sliding them into their sheaths. He looked to Han for support, and the man offered him a nod.

  “I can’t do this,” said Talon, shamed by his own words.

  Han put a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight shake. “Of course you can. How much of what you have done recently did you think you could do?”

  Talon had no answer to that.

  “Exactly. You know, you’ve become quite a legend recently. Stories of your feats have reached every corner of Agora. The Skomm slaves speak of you with hope. If you can escape Volnoss, overthrow a murderous slave ship captain, and start a Skomm revolution, I think you can talk to your father.”

  “You’re right, I must sound like a coward.”

  “If I thought you a coward, I wouldn’t be here,” said Han with a smile. “Remember, if your father is like the rest of the Vald, he will only respond to a show of strength.”

  Talon nodded, finding some solace in Han’s words.

  Together they left Ash and Flick to guard the cave and headed northwest toward Timber Wolf Village. The last time Talon remembered being there, he had been hanging from Fylkin’s hooks, as good as dead.

  The village was quiet in the small hours. Smoke floated up lazily in straight lines above the buffalo hide tents. Talon was reminded of the Vald’s numbers as he took in the grandeur of the village as seen from the sky. Some claimed that the Skomm outnumbered the Vald as much as five to one, but what did it matter when the Vald were so big, and the Skomm so weak? The Vald were born and bred for killing, and could, even with their lesser numbers, utterly obliterate the Skomm if they chose to do so.

  Talon had never been to h
is father’s hus, but he knew where it was located. After Talon’s birth, his father had moved to the other side of the village, far away from his Skomm son and Gretzen. Kreal made his new home on a high bluff overlooking the village. Lined as it was with brambles and bushes, there was only one way up to the large teepee. The well-trod path wound from the village and up in a spiral around the mound before coming to the flat top. Talon didn’t bother with the path, instead he landed Brightwing right at his father’s doorstep. The hawk quickly took on the appearance of the brown hide covering the abode.

  “Be ready. If anyone comes, take to the air and circle above,” said Talon. He eyed the bird, wondering how much Brightwing understood of what he said.

  “Alright,” Talon told himself.

  He turned and faced the tent flap. Smoke curled out of the roof of the place, and a glow came from the seams that told him someone was inside. There was also the faint smell of venison on the air.

  “You’re either coming in or you are not. Do not linger by my door,” came a voice from inside.

  Talon froze, recognizing his father.

  He swallowed hard, finding his throat suddenly tight.

  “Well, do I have to go out there and throw you down the hill?” Kreal yelled, startling Talon.

  “It is me…Father. Your son.”

  Talon shook, overwhelmed by the moment. He listened to the maddening silence, thinking to hurry and fly away.

  “I have no son,” Kreal finally responded. “Go away from here and leave me in peace.”

  The words were slightly slurred; his father was drunk.

  Dread crept over Talon. The last time he had seen his father drunk, the man had chased him all over the village, threatening to kill him.

  “You hear me?” said Kreal as the sounds of his stirring issued from the teepee.

  Talon stood his ground before the doorway. He couldn’t run. Everything depended on this moment.

  Kreal tore the tent flap aside and came out like an angry bear. “I said get the—”

  He stopped dead, bleary eyes coming together and glaring down on Talon. There was both surprise and hatred in his face. A week’s stubble had grown on his proud chin and high-set cheeks. It was black with flecks of gray like his unruly hair.

  “You…” he growled.

  “Yes Father, it is me, Talon. I have come here with an offer.”

  “You…” Kreal repeated. He slowly reached a shaking fist up toward Talon’s face, and tears came to the big Vald’s eyes.

  For a moment Talon thought that his father might caress his cheek, but then he grabbed ahold of his head with both hands.

  “You killed your mother…you have disgraced my name!”

  He was beginning to squeeze, and Talon instinctively reached up and took hold of his wrists. He tried to slip out, but Kreal held him with an impossibly strong grip. Kyrr gave Talon strength, and he pulled with all his might. To his surprise, he could not budge his father’s arms.

  Kreal suddenly let go and backhanded Talon, sending him spinning backward to land at the edge of the hilltop. Stars danced in his vision, but he managed to get to his feet, however drunkenly.

  “You killed your mother. You shamed my na—”

  “My mother died from the frozen plague!” Talon screamed.

  Kreal stalked toward him and suddenly caught motion to his left. Brightwing was suddenly there, batting Kreal to the side with one large wing. He flew through the air and crashed into the outdoor fire pit, sending a plume of soot up into the air.

  Talon gestured for Brightwing to back off and got between his father and the bird.

  Kreal leapt up to his feet and glared at Talon with murderous eyes.

  “I should have bashed you on the closest rock when you were born. Draugr! Skomm! Plagueborn! You are no son of mine!”

  He began stalking toward Talon, fists balled at his sides. Black spittle blended with soot flew from his mouth with every word.

  “If that crazy old Kerling hadn’t stopped me, I would have done you a favor and ended your miserable life when it began!”

  Talon stood his ground and called Chief to his side. The wolf came to form before Kreal’s eyes, and the big man was taken aback. He stood, wavering before the symbol of the spirit of his tribe.

  “Would Krellr Warg stand by the side of a useless Skomm?” said Talon, standing proudly before his father.

  “You think you can kill me with the wolf and the hawk? You are a coward,” said Kreal, regaining his confidence and continuing toward him.

  “I have not come here to fight you. But I will if I must!” Talon warned.

  Kreal didn’t slow, but came on with a big right hook. Talon instinctively ducked, even as Chief’s glowing form flew in front of him and tackled Kreal to the ground. They went rolling into the teepee, and Talon ran after them.

  “Off, Chief!” he screamed when he saw that Chief was about to go for the throat.

  The wolf turned to sparkling blue light and shot over to Talon’s side, leaving Kreal panting on the floor beside the fire.

  “Go on, boy, wait outside with Brightwing.”

  Chief cocked his head to the side and gave a small whine.

  “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

  Reluctantly, Chief disappeared.

  “I’ve not come here to fight you,” said Talon, watching his father pull himself up off the floor.

  Kreal wiped blood from his neck and glared at Talon. “Even with those demons, you couldn’t defeat me.” He pushed the broken table to the side and moved to the fire, where his long sword lay bound in leather.

  “Father, don’t.”

  “Do not call me that!” Kreal erupted. His sword came out of its sheath singing.

  Talon’s dagger and short sword were in his hands in a flash as Kreal leapt and came down with a heavy strike of the longsword. Crossing his weapons high above him, Talon stopped the blow.

  Kreal’s eyes went wide and he gritted his teeth, pressing down hard. Talon held firm.

  “I am Talon Windwalker. Son of Kreal and Kvenna Windwalker!”

  His father’s eyes bulged, and he renewed his attack, bearing down with all his might on the sword and dagger.

  “We could have been a family,” said Talon, pushing back with equal power. “I would have been a Vald. But the frozen plague took her from us, and it left me small. Worst of all, it took your heart and made it black!” Talon shoved the longsword with all his might. Kyrr flared to life inside the teepee, illuminating the many charcoal pictures of Kvenna hanging on the walls for but a moment.

  Kreal was pushed back, and Talon forgot his father as he stared into the eyes of his mother. A woman he had never seen in life.

  “Modir…” Talon gasped.

  “Do not look upon her!” Kreal cried and lunged for Talon with the tip of the seven-foot sword.

  Talon spun and slapped it aside with his short sword, and came back around with his dagger, slicing Kreal’s cheek. Kreal staggered back and felt for his face, eyes wide when they came back with blood.

  “You call me a draugr, you call me a Skomm. Well, Father, I have bested you. So what does that make you?”

  Kreal’s hand shook, and he dropped his sword. He steadied himself on the center beam, still staring at the blood upon his fingers.

  “You wanted a strong heir, well here I am!” said Talon, spreading his arms wide and moving to stand before his father. “You wanted a son to help you challenge Winterthorn? Well here I am. I have not come here to fight you, Father. I have come here to make you chief!”

  Kreal looked from his own bloody hand to his son. Tears pooled in his bloodshot eyes. He appeared deranged. The soot on his face melded with the blood dripping from his cheek. He shouldered out of the wolf hide vest he wore and fell to his knees, bare-chested beside the fire.

  He suddenly produced a dagger from his hip and took it in two hands, turning the blade in on himself.

  Talon lunged even as Kreal pulled the blade toward his own chest. His hands
found his father’s at the last moment and Talon pulled.

  Kreal screamed as the dagger broke the skin below his breastbone. He pulled harder, trying desperately to impale himself.

  “I’ll not let you leave so easily!” Talon cried, pulling as hard as he could.

  The dagger shook between them, and Talon yanked hard with one final feat of strength. He ripped the dagger free and tossed it to the side.

  Kreal sat there on the floor with hunched shoulders, looking small to Talon just then. He looked on Talon with tears streaming down his face.

  “Even in victory you mock me. You would rob me of an honorable death?”

  “I would rob you of nothing,” said Talon, panting.

  “You robbed me of a wife,” said Kreal. “You robbed me of a legacy.”

  “I lost my mother! And you abandoned me!” Talon shook with rage as he stood over his father. Tears streamed down his face, causing his vision to explode with shards of firelight. “Do not tell me what I have taken from you!”

  Kreal looked away, unable or unwilling to meet Talon’s accusing gaze.

  “Have it your way,” said Talon. “Kill yourself like a coward if you must. But know that I mean to challenge Chief Winterthorn and his son Fylkin tomorrow, with or without your help.”

  With that he turned from his father and left the tent. He mounted Brightwing and steered her south and never looked back.

  Chapter 35

  Vengeance for the Silent Babe

  I have always shown a proficiency in the Ralliad arts. Indeed, I have spent decades, even centuries in the solitude of the forest. Life is simpler in the wood. There is a peace to all things there beneath the canopy of trees. The creatures of the forest listen, they watch, they are aware.

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  Talon left the small hill furious, and did not immediately return to the cave. Instead he steered Brightwing toward Skomm Village and circled overhead for hours, watching the sleeping village, which was eerily quiet in the small hours.