"It may be too soon to tell," Heron commented, wrinkling his brow with concern. "There are a lot of them out there but not nearly enough to force their way in at the passes. Do you think they'll try it?"
"It's always a possibility," the Falconer said thoughtfully, "but since the McAllister invasion attempt, they haven't been too anxious to test our mettle. Except," The man paused and looked hard into his son's eyes, "for the ambush of the weekly patrol outside Maryland Pass last night. Have you heard any of the details of that engagement?"
The boy paused nervously. "I've been too busy. I've heard it mentioned but I wasn't listening."
"Well, I think you should listen now, very closely," Daron said seriously. "They were coming in during the late afternoon when your mysterious, one handed Chan stopped them on the trail. He warned them of an ambush that the nomads had prepared for them in the next valley and suggested an alternate route to take them to the pass.
"They might have made it except that another band of nomads was between them and the pass. Instead, they held up in a rock formation that made a pretty good fort and held off a number of attacking waves until night shut down the nomad operations. They took some casualties, more than half of them were killed or wounded but their officer ordered a run for the pass a half hour after dark. Eleven out of twenty one made it back alive.
"That officer fought bravely and directed the defense brilliantly. Just before the sun went down, he killed the enemy leader in single combat. As the sun sank in the east, a nomad arrow struck him in the throat. The others brought his body back for burial." The man reached forward and took his son's hand, looking directly into his eyes.
"Heron," he said slowly, "that officer was Peron, Kit's father." He let that sink into the boy's head and watched the shock on his son's face. "Kit is now an orphan. He needs your friendship now more than he ever did before. Can't you forgive his ignorant mistake and go to him? I'm sure it might make a big difference to him in helping him get through his grief. Perhaps you could ask him to come live with us for a while. I might even talk his grandfather, Jaron, into nominating him as a fledgling. He's a little old but it is not too late. It's up to you, now, as much as it is to Jaron. I cannot bring him into the Aerie if you two are still at odds."
Tears were forming in the boy's eyes. He dropped his head and placed his hands over his face. His father waited patiently for his son to collect himself. He was reasonably certain that the boy still had strong feelings for his former friend. He wouldn't have been so badly hurt by the offending incident if he had not been very close to Kit. Finally, the boy wiped his tears on his sleeve and lifted his eyes to those of his father's.
"I want to think about it a while," he said. "Kit must be hurting a lot right now. After my attack on him the other day, he may not even want to see me again." Slowly he rose and left the room.
It took an hour for Heron to make up his mind. When he did, he dressed, went out and saddled up Flash with the novice saddle. After collecting his glider wing, he climbed to the roof of the Rider's barracks and launched with the big eagle into the Randor skies. Five minutes later, they dropped onto the landing area at the Guardsmen's barracks. He shucked his wing and approached the first soldier he saw. The man was a sergeant that had been a good friend of Kit's.
"No, he's not here anymore," the man said in response to Heron's inquiry. "They loaded his belongings on a wagon this morning. He saddled up his pinto and led his father's black stallion away after the wagon. I don't know where they went. It was sad how his father died so young and left him all alone. He doesn't have any relatives here that I know of. He and his father were pretty quiet about such matters around the barracks."
"He has a Grandfather somewhere nearby, I know," Heron supplied. "But he said they haven't spoken to each other since he came to live with Peron. I doubt if that's where he went. Well, thank you, Sergeant, and if you see Kit again, ask him to come see me. We had a silly fight and I want to make up with him."
Heron slowly returned to the landing field, donned his wing and took to the skies. There was little he could do now to find his hurting friend. Perhaps their friends in the barracks would get the word out to him.
CHAPTER NINE
Chan squatted by his morning campfire. His breakfast brew was almost ready. He had developed the habit of making a little handful of fire, every morning, out of dry, smokeless wood, and boiling a cup of tea made from the bark of a local plant. As he waited for the water to boil, he would eat the remainder of his previous evening's meal and think.
It had been nearly a month since he had watched the valiant stand and daring escape of the Guardsmen cavalry troop outside Maryland Pass. Nomad activity had been considerable around Washington for a week after that until several Glider Riders had made an appearance. They had drifted out over a concentration of around fifty nomads some five miles from West Pass one day. The ground under the nomad's feet suddenly began to erupt in great explosions every time the Glider Riders passed over. Nearly half of the nomads were killed and few escaped without a wound of some sort.
Chan had been watching from the top of a mesa some distance to the north. He wondered if Piperon, the young Eagle Rider he had met when he left McAllister, had participated in this attack. It had been difficult, lately, for him to evade the large scouting and hunting parties that had been inundating the area. He had been considering a move farther back into the mountains until this new tribe of nomads moved on. The bombing that he witnessed made him decide to wait a little longer to see what would happen.
Sure enough, the nomads had moved on within two days. The area now was quiet and safe. It is strange, Chan thought, to realize that the very weapon which had helped to defeat his tribe's invasion of McAllister, making him an outcast, had also helped to provide for him a relatively safe hunting area in which to survive.
His thoughts turned to the Home Guard Lieutenant who had granted him protection from harassment by members of the Guardsmen patrols. He wondered what Peron Washington was doing right now and whether or not they would meet again. Chan had watched several cavalry patrols during the intervening weeks but had not seen his benefactor among them. He knew that the amnesty that the man had extended to him was still in effect. On two occasions, one just the other day, he had been hailed during his travels by Guardsmen scouts. They had exchanged words but Chan had been unable to pass any information except for an "all clear" assurance. He made it his business, however, to watch the patrols and assure himself that they did not run afoul of any nomad traps.
The only other men he made contact with were a pair of wild meat hunters who had been working the area for the last week or so. They were a scruffy pair, as was their want, and were clad in stained shirts and pants fashioned out of animal hides. He approached them one day with his hand raised in the peace sign and talked to them from afar. They did not quite trust him and, on reflection, he couldn't blame them much, friendly nomads being a rarity on Randor. After that, he kept himself aware of their location and movement but made no further attempts to contact them.
As his water began to boil, he took it off the fire and dropped in a few ground up pieces of bark. The water turned dark brown and, in a few minutes, he picked it up and began sipping the crude tea. Soon, he would have to douse his fire, bury the ashes, police the area in order to leave no sign of his camp and move on.
Kit had dressed and was coming down the stairwell as the sun was clawing its way over the mountains to the west. As he reached the base of the stair, he heard his grandfather's call.
"Kittron, I want a word with you."
The boy reluctantly checked his progress toward the front door and turned back toward the kitchen. Jaron was standing in the doorway with a stern expression on his face. Kit could see Deena, Jaron's cook, bustling around in the background and trying to pretend she wasn't listening.
"Where are you going this early in the morning?" he asked. "You haven't done any work around the orchard for the last week. You are always running of
f to town. The fates only know what a young boy like you has to do down there all day. The Loremaster says you haven't been to Learning Hogan since your father died."
"I don't need any more education if I'm going to be a Guardsman." the boy protested sullenly. "All I need to do is practice at arms. As for working here, your hired hands won't let me do anything. They are all too afraid that I'll take over too much of the work and one of them will be fired. And you, well, you can hardly stay in the same room with me for ten minutes. I know when I'm not wanted!"
"It is not that I don't want you here," Jaron pleaded, "It is just that every time we are together I am reminded of your Uncle Kittron. Those memories are too painful for me to bear just now. This is just as hard for me to take as it is for you. Can you not give me a little more time to adjust to your presence?"
"You can have all the time you want," Kit replied, "but I'm not going to wait around 'til you do. I didn't ask to be named after your favorite kid. I didn't kill uncle Kittron but I'm the one who has to pay for his death. You've never wanted me here. Why does it bother you that I'm gone so often?"
"I won't have any grandson of mine running in the town like some common rapscallion," the man said angrily. "I have heard what you are up to, fighting with any scum that will draw sword against you, drinking wine with the lowest sort in town and gambling over horse races and archery contests. It is embarrassing to think that one who lives under my roof would cavort in such an unseemly manner with the most common riff-raff in the crater."
"Then disown me," Kit shouted. "I'm not really your grandson, I just happen to have had your daughter for a mother. We don't have anything else in common. Everything I like, you hate. I don't want to be a farmer. I am a fighter and an adventurer like my father.
"You know, Suron told me all about you. You were one of the best Eagle Riders in the Aerie. You were even runner up for Grand Champion at one time. You took part in three big battles. You even directed one of them. You knew how dangerous being an Eagle Rider is but you allowed both of your kids to follow in your footsteps. It was bad luck that Uncle Kittron died like he did but if you want to blame somebody, don't blame me. I wasn't even born when it happened. You could blame yourself. You were the one who sent him off to the Aerie to die."
"Don't you think I know that?" Jaron's face showed the great pain and guilt that was in his heart. "That's why I don't want you to become a fledgling."
"Why not?" The boy was beyond reading between the lines. "If I died, you would be rid of me. That's what would make you happy, I know. It would be like I had never been born. No more reminders of Uncle Kittron. No more trouble underfoot." With that, the boy ran outside the front door to the farmhouse.
"That is not it at all," Jaron said to the empty room. "I just could never stand such a loss again. You are too precious to me. I cannot gamble with the only family that I have left to me." He paused, thoughtfully. "But perhaps I am losing you anyway. How can I win this game? If I keep you from the Aerie, I lose you to the town. If I send you to the Aerie, you may fall from the skies like your uncle. Life is too much of a gamble in these hard times." He sighed deeply and turned back into the kitchen.
Kit stormed out of the house, his ears closed to any further entreaties from his grandfather. He went directly to the barn where his weapons and money were hidden. He collected his most precious belongings, his father's swords and Suron's crossbow and strapped them to his young body. The pouch of gold and silver coins went into a secret pocket in a fold of his coat. It was now summer, but if he went to the mountains, he would need that coat.
As he saddled up Satan, his father's black stallion, he thought about the freedom that the purse full of coins represented. They had grown threefold since he had collected them from the secret compartment beneath his father's trunk. He had boldly wagered them on the speed of this magnificent stallion and on his own skill with crossbow and swords. He had never lost yet and now he had to look constantly for new marks from outside Washington crater who had never seen him in action.
There was more than enough in that purse to keep him for the next three years until he could join the guards. Perhaps he could make enough extra to purchase a commission as an officer. It took a lot of money to do so but he had three years to make it in. Of course, it took more than money to purchase a commission but Kit already had the skills at arms and much of the knowledge necessary to be an officer and he probably would be given special consideration because of the memory of his father.
When the stallion was saddled, Kit entered the barn and brought out the pack which he had put together the night before. It contained extra clothes, some cooking pots and various toiletry articles as well as enough food for several days. This he strapped to the back of Paint, his pinto mare who was secured to Satan's saddle by a leather thong.
As he stepped back from that task, he heard the loud "karee" of an eagle in the sky above him.
It was to be a big day for Heron and Flash. This afternoon they were to make the long flight from Washington to O'Malley crater to attend the games. Heron had been chosen to represent his home Aerie in the junior division of the competitions. He and two other, older Riders would be flying there, taking off at around the second hour of the afternoon. His father, the Master Falconer, and his wife, Heron's mother, would travel on horseback, leaving early this morning, along with the various contestants from the Washington Home Guard unit.
As he came down the stairwell, he saw that breakfast was already underway. The Falconer would have to leave within the first hour after daybreak in order to make it to O'Malley by dark. The sun was not quite up yet but the cold, grey light of dawn was illuminating the windows of the Falconer's Residence.
"Sit with us a minute, Heron," the Falconer said. "I have an errand to ask of you before you leave."
The lad sat down with a look of interest on his face.
"I was talking, last night, to one of the Guardsmen who will be going along with us. After discussing the route we will take to O'Malley, we got onto the subject of Peron and his son, Kit. The man let slip an interesting piece of information. It seems that Kit is living with Jaron, his grandfather, at his orchard just a mile and a half upslope of the barracks.
"I think that it would be good of you to approach him this morning before you take off for O'Malley. It's been a month since your little disagreement with him and I think it is time to make up. What do you say?"
"I say I'm going to go see him before I even have breakfast this morning," the boy said as he rose from the table. "You and Mother have a good trip. I'll see you at O'Malley this evening." He kissed his Mother and left the Residence at the run.
By the time the sun was just above the western horizon, Flash, with Heron on his back, was jumping off the landing platform above the Rider's barracks. They circled around and headed toward the Guardsmen's barracks. From there, they followed a small road up to the peach orchard belonging to Jaron.
Heron looked down and recognized Kit's small, wiry figure out by the barn. He had his father's black stallion saddled and was tying a bundle on the back of his pinto mare. Flash recognized him at the same moment and let out a loud "karee" of hello. Heron directed his bird to land in the field next to the corral where Kit and his ponies were standing.
Kit turned to watch his former friend make his landing. Still irritated by the recent argument with his grandfather, he stood with his hands on the hilts of his weapons. His face remained passive, registering no particular emotion. One of his ponies stamped his foot impatiently.
Heron climbed down from Flash's back and approached the other boy. "I'm glad I decided to come right away," he said cheerfully. "I tried to see you the day I heard about your father, but they said you were gone and didn't know where you were. My Father found out last night that you were here and told me just this morning."
He glanced meaningfully at the pack horse. "It looks like you're leaving on a journey this morning. If I had eaten breakfast first, I guess I would have been too late.
Where are you going?"
"Away." Kit's expression was anything but friendly.
"Listen, Kit," the young Rider continued uneasily, "I acted like an idiot the last time we met. When I heard that you'd lost your father, I realized that you needed my friendship as much as I need yours. I felt really ashamed of my actions and wanted to apologize. I've come to see if we can be friends again."
"I see you aren't wearing your swords this morning," Kit commented. "It's too bad. I wish I could test your mettle like you did mine a month ago. As you can see, I have a short sword at my side this time. It's a pretty good one too, that's killed a lot of treacherous nomads. I wonder how it would do against a treacherous Eagle Rider. You'd better get out of my sight before I find out. I don't want to be friends and I don't want your pity." All the while, Kit had been moving toward the Eagle Rider menacingly, his hands resting on the hilts of his sword and sheath knife.
Heron hesitated a long moment, puzzled by his friend's reversal of attitude. "I don't blame you for being angry at me," he said sadly. "I guess I deserve it after the way I acted. Look, please think it over for a while. I have to go to O'Malley, this afternoon, to compete in the games. When we return, come see me. My father says he'll try to convince your Grandfather to let you join the Aerie. He says that it isn't too late for you to start and he'd like to have you on our team. I would too. You'd make a good Eagle Rider.
"Even if Jaron says no, you could come and live with us at the Aerie 'til you are old enough to join the Guard. I'd be happy to share my room and we could fly together with Flash whenever you want. Just think about it. I'll be back in a week. You can find me any time after that at the Aerie. I'll be praying to the fates that you'll come to join us."
Kit just stared at Heron until the Eagle Rider mounted up and ordered his bird to take off. He then turned back to the corral and opened the gate. A minute later, he was riding Satan out onto the road to town, leading Paint at the end of the leather thong.
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