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

by Michael James Ploof

  His mind raced, replaying the encounter with his father over and over in his head. He imagined how the argument and subsequent fight could have gone. He even imagined killing Kreal. But of these thoughts he was ashamed, and tried to forget them with imaginings of a happier reunion, one in which Kreal begged his apology and vowed to stand beside him against the Winterthorns.

  Talon cried freely as he glided high above the village. He thought of Jahsin and Tyson, and everyone who had died at the hands of the Vald and Vaka. He imagined the thousands who had lived as Skomm over the hundreds of years since the barbarians began allowing them to live. Those thoughts led him to think of all the infants and injured children who had been tossed over a cliffside during the time when the Vald did not let them live.

  How many had died because of their prejudice?

  Even if Talon freed the Skomm, the Vald would have more children that did not meet the measure, and in only a generation there would be a new Skomm Village.

  “It will never end,” Talon said to himself aloud.

  Freeing them was only the beginning. Somehow he would have to figure out how to help the new Skomm.

  One thing at a time, Talon reminded himself. He was already worrying about the unborn, yet he had not freed the living.

  Vaka Kastali came into view at the center of Skomm Village. He watched the wooden castle grow on the horizon and imagined what a magnificent blaze it would make if it went up in flames.

  Slowly, a grin spread across his face. He wiped the tears out from beneath his goggles and slapped the reins. “See that big monstrosity of lumber?” he asked Brightwing. “That’s where we’re headed.

  Brightwing gave a deep crooning and pumped her long wings with vigor. Soon they were circling Vaka Kastali. There were many guards stationed on the battlements and balconies throughout the structure, and Talon soon deduced that he could not defeat so many. Instead he thought of the dragon’s breath bomb that he still had stashed in one of the saddle pouches. He glanced around the dark sky, wondering if Han was out there somewhere, watching him.

  Just then the door burst open, and a half-dressed Skomm girl was tossed out into the night.

  “Better get your arse some of that tea from the witchdoctors. You have a babe and we’ll kill the both of you!” yelled the big Vaka standing in the doorway, shaking his fist.

  Visions of the murder that he had witnessed years ago flashed before his eyes. He heard the baby cry. Then he heard the baby cry no more. He thought of Akerri’s sister and the man who had been accused of the conception. Talon saw the body go up on the bonfire, he smelled the burning hair and flesh.

  Talon snapped.

  He leapt from Brightwing and landed before the open wooden door to Vaka Kastali and unsheathed his daggers. The Vaka holding it open jumped, surprised. “What’s this?” he yelled, but then his voice turned to a gurgle as Talon slit his throat with one fluid motion.

  The Vaka grabbed his throat, which had begun to spurt blood all over Talon and the door. Talon stepped forward with a big boot and kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying through the threshold, across the large gathering room, and into the wide circular fire near the center.

  A half dozen Vaka leapt to their feet, and twice as many pleasure girls ran or ducked for cover. The Skomm fiddlers, flute players, and percussionists playing in the corner stopped abruptly and stared shock-jawed at Talon, who stood in the door, glaring at the Vaka.

  He extended a bloody blade toward the Skomm. “Keep playing!”

  The Skomm jumped, startled by his booming voice, but they began to play as commanded. The song was a dark, haunting melody with a fast pace behind it, accentuated by the crashing drums.

  “Who the hell are you?” one of the Vaka demanded.

  “I am Talon Windwalker.”

  The eyes of the speaker grew large and afraid.

  Talon shot to the right and slashed the throat of the closest Vaka. The others suddenly scrambled for their weapons, but only three were fast enough to draw before two more of their brethren were bleeding on the floor.

  The daggers moved in a blur of motion as Talon danced around the men in his black feathered cloak. He slit the wrist of a man swinging a sword and stabbed another in the chest even as he raised his weapon to strike. The two men fell to the floor, and Talon charged the one who had spoken. The Vaka had given up on defending himself with his axe and fell to his knees with clasped hands.

  “Please don’t kill me! Please! What do you want? I can get you what you want. Just name it.”

  “I want you to bring back every mother and child that you have ever condemned to death with your hateful seed,” said Talon, bringing a dagger to the man’s neck and lifting his chin. “Do that, and I will spare you.”

  “It ain’t like that. I ain’t like that. I never—”

  Talon pressed the dagger harder, wanting to wet the carpet with blood. His eyes caught movement and saw the girl running for the stairs. “You!”

  She froze and turned to face him slowly, bringing the small quilt up to cover her bare bosom.

  “Has this man ever impregnated one of you and then had her killed, whilst blaming a Skomm man for the deed?”

  The girl glanced around at those women who were still trying to hide.

  “Do not be afraid. All of you. Stand. You have nothing to fear from me. Just tell me. Is this man good of heart?”

  The girl he had stopped stepped forward bravely. “He got Soaringsong pregnant. Had her and the baby hanged in the commons.”

  Talon glared at the man.

  “He did the same thing to my sister,” said another, stepping forward.

  “I carry his child now,” another dared to say. She looked no older than thirteen.

  “Don’t listen to them!” the Vaka cried. “They are all a bunch of lying whores. You think they don’t love—”

  Talon slit his throat before he could speak another lie and let him fall to the floor to bleed to death.

  “You can all go,” said Talon, raising a hand to the musicians that caused them to stop. “All of you, get out of here.”

  They wasted no time in clearing out. By now, the sounds of rushing feet had begun upstairs.

  “Tell the others what you saw here tonight!” Talon called after them. “Tell them that Talon Windwalker has returned. Soon you will all be free!”

  The Skomm cleared out as armed Vaka came crashing down the stairs in droves.

  ***

  Talon emerged from the building covered in blood. To his surprise, he found dozens of Skomm, and also a few Vaka standing outside gawking at him. He turned his gaze upon the Vaka, and they glanced at each other and fled, wanting nothing to do with the blood-soaked madman they saw standing in the doorway to Vaka Kastali.

  He could feel the heat at his back as he watched the growing crowd of Skomm. Talon had tossed the burning logs around the gathering room and smashed every lamp he found. The flames were gaining in strength now, and smoke began to rise thick above the kastali.

  “What have you done?” an old Skomm man asked as he stepped forward from the crowd. “You have doomed us all.”

  “I have done what you should have done in your time, old man,” said Talon, eyeing the crowd.

  A window burst with flames many stories above. The heat was becoming too much to bear, and Talon put his fingers into his mouth and whistled to Brightwing. She landed beside him and turned a brilliant silver, causing his cloak to shimmer likewise in the firelight.

  “I am Talon Windwalker! And I would see our people suffer no more!” he declared to the murmuring crowd of Skomm, who now easily numbered a hundred. “If there are those among you who are of like mind, then I bid you meet me tomorrow, high noon, in Timber Wolf Village.”

  With that he mounted Brightwing, whose long wings fanned the fires of Vaka Kastali as she lifted into the air. The crowd of Skomm cheered and waved as Talon flew away into the night.

  Chapter 36

  A Fine Day for Revolution
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  When the vision came to me of Vaka Kastali engulfed in flames, my heart smiled. I did not enjoy the idea of lives lost, but rather it was the destruction of the symbol of oppression that I enjoyed watching burn to the ground.

  -Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

  Talon returned to Beorn’s Cave and Han landed right behind him. The general leapt from his mount and confronted Talon at the mouth of the cave, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

  “What the hells was that?” he insisted.

  Talon pulled his arm away violently. “It was a warning, and a message,” he said before continuing into the cave.

  “That was reckless! Not to mention stupid!” said Han, following him closely.

  “No, it was not,” said Talon, turning to face the general in the main cavern. “Vaka Kastali burns to the ground as we speak. The commons will be alive with talk of revolution.”

  “And the Vald villages will be as well! You have played your strongest hand too soon.”

  “All due respect, General Ford, but I am not some sneaking assassin. Your king has asked this of me, and I am doing it the best way I know how. I mean to stand in the daylight and face off with the Chieftain Winterthorn and his son, before the entire village. They would respond to nothing less.”

  Talon walked deeper into the cave and sat at the small table near the fire. He poured himself a drink from the clay pitcher and drank greedily of the water as Han came to stand before him.

  “Will your father stand by you?”

  Talon shrugged. “It is hard to say. When I left him, he was trying to stab himself in the chest.”

  Han let out a sigh and sat opposite Talon. “So you took out your frustrations on the symbol of Vald authority.”

  “What I did should have been done years ago. If I fail tomorrow, at least I did that. Do you know what an act like that means to the Skomm?”

  “It means hundreds will die as retaliation by the Vald.”

  “They will all die anyway. They will die as slaves. But they will have the memory of what I tried to do. Perhaps, if I fail, it will spark a fire in another.”

  “We are here to defeat Winterthorn. The revolution was to come next.”

  “Was it?” Talon asked, studying the general’s eyes.

  “I can understand that you have never learned to trust anyone,” said Han. “But I can assure you. My king’s word is as good as gold.”

  “So is mine.”

  Talon slept little that night. He spent the hours tossing and turning beside the fire, wishing that morning would come. As he lay there, he replayed the fight inside Vaka Kastali. He had killed every Vaka that he came across. The killing had been easy. When once he had argued the killing of the enemy with Tyson, now he was dealing death like a cold-blooded assassin.

  What is happening to me? he wondered.

  The answer was both terrifying and exciting.

  He knew that something had snapped inside of him. Perhaps it was fighting in the arena that had done it, perhaps it was seeing Akerri being manipulated by an evil dark elf. He did not know. All he knew was that he was different.

  Now the prospect of facing off with Winterthorn thrilled him, when once it had filled him with dread.

  His mind drifted to the image of his father trying desperately to kill himself in the face of his defeat. He saw those accusing eyes, that hateful glare. Talon realized that he had been a fool to think that his father would embrace him after all this time. The passing of time had done nothing to soften the man’s heart, and Talon’s accolades had only been further disgrace.

  Talon got up, unable to stand his own thoughts any longer. He went outside to get a breath of fresh air and found Ash leaning up against the stone wall beside the cave and witling a stick with a small knife. It was taking on the form of a perched hawk more with every flick of the dwarf’s wrist.

  “Oye,” said the dwarf with a nod.

  “Quiet night,” said Talon.

  “Clear too. The star o’ Ky’Dren be out tonight.”

  Ash pointed to the southwest, and Talon glanced in the direction.

  “To the Vald, that grouping of stars is Thodin’s crown.”

  “Aye, and to the elves it be something else.”

  Talon looked out over the dense forest stretching out before him. He knew it gave way to the old abandoned mines to the south, but there was nothing to be seen of it from this vantage point. The coast was not lost to the horizon, however, and the moonlight created a silver rim where it fell upon the waters.

  “You ready for tomorrow?” Ash asked. Still the sound of his witling could be heard.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “You sure about that? You be what? Eighteen years old?”

  “Sixteen,” said Talon, somewhat reluctantly.

  “Aye? Sixteen? Hells…”

  Talon turned and faced the dwarf. “What is it? What’s on your mind?”

  Ash glanced back toward the cave and came to stand beside Talon. “I ain’t no man o’ Shierdon. So I don’t foster their blind love o’ the throne. Let me just say that you would be wise to watch yourself in your dealings with the king of Shierdon. He’ll use anything to get out o’ a bargain. If ye be slippin’ up in the least, he will milk it for all it’s worth.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Ash.”

  “Bah, I just be warnin’ ye is all. Ye never can trust no one. Not ever yourself.”

  “You never did tell me what you were doing working for General Ford,” said Talon.

  “I ain’t workin’ for Han. I be workin’ for me king.”

  “Your king wanted you to be a hawk rider?”

  “Yah and nay, it be one o’ the conditions o’ the pact. Ye see, them birds come from a tiny region in northern Ky’Dren, right on the legal border to Shierdon. When the humans caught wind o’ the birds, they tried to claim that they were on their side o’ the border, but me king thought different, and then a long disagreement began. In the end they came to an agreement. On me king’s terms, the Shierdonian king could use the birds for a fee, but the base o’ operations had to be in the Ky’Dren Mountains. And they had to allow a dwarf to become a rider so that we might be keeping an eye on ‘em. In exchange, the king of Shierdon agreed to some trade route or another, and vowed that the riders would answer the king o’ Ky’Dren’s call if ever they be needed.”

  “So you were appointed to the station?”

  “Nah, I volunteered for it. No one else wanted it anyway.”

  Talon was trying to steer Ash toward the incident with his brother that he had heard about from Haze, but he had to be delicate.

  “Why did you volunteer? What did you do for work before you became a hawk rider?”

  Ash glanced at him quickly. “Why you be askin’?”

  “I’m curious is all. You’re the first dwarf I ever met.”

  “Aye, and you be the first Skomm I ever met. I ain’t askin’ you your life story.”

  “I’m sorry. I will leave you alone,” said Talon, turning for the entrance.

  “Bah!” said Ash, waving him over. “Might as well stay. It be a good night for talk anyway.”

  Talon tried to hide his grin as he came to stand beside the dwarf once more. He knew that in his own way, Ash had just apologized for being so rude.

  “I worked in the mines my whole life. Which be seventy-five years, though ye might not be thinkin’ as much by me appearance. We dwarves can live to see near on a thousand years if we be so blessed. As I said, I loved the mines. I be a descendent o’ Ky’Dren, if ye didn’t know. I be blessed with the power to move stone with me mind. So the mines weren’t as backbreakin’ as some humans might think.”

  “I worked the mines south of here, but I cannot say that I enjoyed it,” said Talon.

  “And how could ye, with a whip crackin’ on yer back? No, this weren’t no slavin’ work. This was discovery. Ye know what it be like to blast the end o’ a tunnel and find a shimmerin’ vein o�
� silver? Course ye don’t. Well let me tell ye, it be the best feelin’ in the world. And when ye come across a deposit o’ diamonds, or rubies…damned if it ain’t better then seein’ a pretty lass’s breasts for the first time.”

  Talon chuckled, and Ash eyed him knowingly. “Aye, it be glorious.”

  “But why would you give that up if you loved it so?” asked Talon, hoping that he hadn’t gone too far.

  Ash seemed to debate between telling him to piss off and spilling his guts. At length he sighed and looked to the moon.

  “I always had a bit o’ a drinkin’ problem. It be a common enough jab that we dwarves be a lot o’ drunkards. And it might be true. But most know that there be a time and a place for such indulgences. Most know to keep it out o’ their work. Well. I learned that lesson too late. Ye see, there wasn’t nothin’ I loved more than tyin’ one on an’ blowin’ shite up. Me brother told me more than once to stay off the spirits while we was workin’, but I never listened.”

  Talon listened quietly, not wanting to cause Ash to stop his telling. He waited, watching the dwarf out of the corner of his eyes. He thought he saw a hand quickly wipe an eye.

  “One day I got into the rum a little heavy a little too early in the day. Me and me brother Fengar was diggin’ into a bit o’ iron ore we knew had gold in it. We just knew it…We had some bets goin’ with the others, five to one odds that we would find gold in the old abandoned tunnel. I was keen on winnin’, and in my haste I lit a fuse too soon.”

  Talon bowed his head, knowing better than to look at the dwarf when his voice was cracking so.

  A few violent sniffles later, Ash continued at a near whisper.

  “I brought down the tunnel Fengar was in. Brought the whole thing down on him. I used me power to toss aside the stone as I dug into the ruble, trying to find him. I stopped when I found the bloody stones. I knew he could have survived a cave-in. Those with our power can survive such things, but it was the explosion what done him in. There weren’t even a body to bury.”