Flight of the Nighthawks (7 page)

“Four hours or so,” said Nakor.

“I think I will stick around a while longer, Nakor. If the approaching danger is worse than the Emerald Queen's army, I want to be fit enough to stand on the wall with my sword in my hand.”

Nakor grinned. “You will.”

Erik smiled back and Nakor could see the health returning to his cheeks. When Nakor had seen him sleeping, Erik had looked like an eighty-year-old man, near death's door. He now seemed more like a vigorous man of seventy or less.

“I need to go. Drink the rest of that vial now.” Erik did so and handed the empty bottle back to Nakor. The skinny gambler pulled out another and said, “Hide this somewhere. Drink half of this one in a week's time if you don't feel as strong as you'd like to. And if you want to feel really wonderful, drink the rest a week after that.” He put it on the pillow next to the Duke. “I'd leave more, but it would be difficult for you to explain to the Prince why you suddenly look younger than he does.” Grinning, he added, “It's a good thing you were born blond, Erik, because people won't notice your hair isn't as gray as it used to be.”

The door at the far end of the room began to open. “Got to go now, Erik,” said Nakor and he darted into the shadow behind the large curtain.

Erik knew that the window behind the curtain had stayed closed, but that if he rose to investigate it, Nakor would have vanished.

The Royal Chirurgeon and the Duke's squire entered the Duke's
chamber and showed open astonishment at seeing the Duke sitting up in bed. “Your Grace!” exclaimed the healer.

“Rossler,” said the Duke.

“Sir?” asked the squire with a near stammer.

“What are you two staring at?”

“Why, Your Grace…you, sir.”

“Well, you can stop it.”

“It's just that, well…”

“I know,” said Erik, interrupting the healer. “You didn't think I'd make it through the night. Well, I've got better.”

“Apparently so, Your Grace. May I?” He indicated his desire to examine the Duke.

Erik patiently allowed the man to proceed, listening to his heart and breathing, and thumping on his back and chest. When he began examining the color of his eyes, Erik pushed him away. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he said, “I need to go to the jakes.”

The squire said, “Your Grace, I will fetch the chamber pot.”

“Not tonight, Samuel, thank you. I'm certain I can walk to the garderobe by myself.”

Both stood a moment in silent amazement as Erik rose and walked across the room to the door that led to his private garderobe and opened the door. When it closed behind the now revitalized Duke, the stunned healer and the grinning squire exchanged looks of wonder.

T
he boys groaned.

Caleb looked back over his shoulder from the driver's seat at the two slowly waking boys. He had dumped them in the wagon, said good-bye to Marie, and left Stardock Town before dawn.

Zane was first to regain a semblance of consciousness and he blinked like a stunned owl as he tried to sit up. It proved a bitter mistake as his head throbbed and his stomach heaved. He barely got his face over the side of the wagon before the sour contents of his stomach came up.

Caleb slowed the horses, then halted them. By the time the wagon came to a complete stop, Tad had joined his foster brother in a painful display of morning-after distress.

Caleb jumped and, with a rough grab, pulled Tad then Zane out of the wagon and deposited them in a heap on
the roadside. They were a portrait of misery. Both had pale complexions and perspiration dripped off their brows. Their eyes were red-rimmed and their clothing disheveled and dirty.

“Stand up,” said Caleb, and the two lads did so. “Follow me.”

Without turning to see if they complied, Caleb started walking down a gentle slope dotted with trees. From the sounds behind him, he judged that the two boys were following along grudgingly.

They reached a small gully thick with waist-high grass, and Caleb motioned for them to move ahead of him. The two miserable lads half stumbled, half walked through the grass. Zane trampled upon what was in front of him, while Tad parted the slightly waving foliage with his hands.

One minute they were trudging along and the next, Zane vanished from sight with a loud yelp of shock. Tad only just avoided stepping off the bank, some six feet above the river. As Zane's head appeared above the water, Tad felt Caleb's foot on his rump, and suddenly he was propelled through the air, landing backside first in the water next to Zane.

“Clean yourselves up,” instructed Caleb. “You smell like the floor of a taproom.” He threw down something that landed in the shallow water between them. Zane picked it up and saw it was a bar of milled soap. “It won't take your skin off like that stuff your mother makes, boys, but it will get you clean—hair, bodies, clothing, everything. You can carry your clothing back to the wagon.”

Grudgingly the pair began to strip off their wet gear as Caleb watched. “Drink some water, too, while you're at it. It'll help get you back among the living.” He turned back toward the wagon, then shouted, “But try not to drink the soapy water.”

Caleb returned to the wagon and waited. In less than half an hour, a pair of dripping boys appeared, nude and carrying their clothing. Caleb pointed to the cart and said, “Spread them out on the sides of the wagon and let them dry in the sun.”

Both young men stood shivering in the cool morning. After a few minutes, Caleb pointed to a small chest nestled behind the driver's seat and said, “You'll find dry clothing in there.”

As the boys dressed, Tad said, “I've never felt this sick from drinking before.”

Caleb nodded. “Whiskey has a terrible hangover, no doubt.”

“Why'd you do it?” asked Zane as he pulled on a fresh tunic.

“So I wouldn't have to beat you senseless to get you to leave Stardock.”

As if coming out of a sleepwalk, the boys looked around. “Where are we?” asked Zane, his dark eyes narrowing. Caleb could see the anger rising.

“We're on the road to Yar-rin, then we'll go on to Jonril.”

Tad's eyes also narrowed. “Why Jonril?”

“Because your mother didn't like what was going on with you two in Stardock, and asked me to take you somewhere that you could find trades.” He motioned for them to finish dressing. “You two have been aimless layabouts since the Choosing two years ago.”

Zane's eyes flashed angrily as he said, “That's not true, Caleb!” Pulling on dry trousers, he glanced at his foster brother. “We work when we can find it.”

“Unloading freight for a day or two every month is no craft,” said Caleb.

“We do more,” added Tad. “We help during the harvest, we cart freight over to the island, and we have found work as builders, too.”

Caleb smiled. “I know you've tried. But there's precious little work now, and less when the new freight line sets up—they're bringing their own lads with them down from Landreth.

“No, your mother has the right of it. If you're to find your way in life, it has to be somewhere besides Stardock.”

The boys finished dressing and Caleb motioned for them to climb back into the wagon. He mounted the driver's seat and took up the reins. As the horses obeyed his command and moved along, he continued. “There's not much going on in the Kingdom, I'm sorry to say. I know people who could get you work, but no one who'd apprentice you. But things are looking up in Kesh and I've a few friends in Jonril who owe me a favor or two. We'll see if there's someone who'll take in two promising lads. Apprentice at a trade, learn your craft, and in a
dozen years or so you can return to Stardock as journeymen crafters, if you wish, but apprentice at a trade you will.”

The boys sat uncomfortably in the back of the jostling wagon, Zane with his knees drawn up to his chest and Tad with legs straight out. Both knew it would be a long ride.

 

The wagon bumped down the road, the horses kicking up small clouds of dust as the afternoon heat beat down. It was unusually hot for this time of year and the boys complained from time to time. They were restless and bored and the novelty of the journey had worn off. Caleb bore their complaints with good humor, for he understood their distress over the turn of events in their lives.

During the first day, they had expressed both anger and sadness at their mother's decision to send them away. They fully understood her reasoning; Stardock had not been a prosperous town for years and work was hard to come by. Their youthful optimism had always led them to believe that something would have worked out had they remained, but by the end of the day both had slowly come to the conclusion that their mother was probably right. They would eventually accept the change as a welcome one, but for the moment they felt ill-used. At least, to Caleb's relief, neither had mentioned Ellie and her part in Marie's desire to see them somewhere other than home.

Caleb had known the boys for most of their lives and he was very fond of them; they were as close to sons as he would ever have, and he knew that while they didn't consider him as a father, they did look upon him as a surrogate uncle and someone their mother cared for, even loved.

He had known Marie a little while her husband was alive, and had known even then that she had felt drawn to him, for he had seen it in her eyes, despite the fact that she was a dutiful wife who observed all the proprieties. Later, she had told him that even in those days she had found him compelling. He had noticed her, too, but as with any other married women, he put any thoughts of attraction aside. Two years after the troll raid and the death of her husband, they had become lovers again.

Caleb would have liked nothing better than to settle down with Marie, but he knew that with his duties, it would never be possible. His work for his father and the Conclave of Shadows called for constant travel and putting himself in harm's way. He was absent more than he was around, and Marie deserved better than that.

Yet she had never voiced any complaint or showed any interest in another man, and Caleb secretly hoped that someday he might convince her to move to Sorcerer's Isle—the place he considered to be home—or perhaps he would return to Stardock and live there. He put those thoughts aside as he had many times before, for dwelling on them only put him in a dark mood.

As they drove into the wagon yard, Caleb said, “When we get to Nab-Yar, we'll find a buyer for this rig and purchase some saddle horses.”

Zane turned and said, “We don't ride, Caleb.”

Caleb said, “You'll learn while we travel.”

The boys exchanged glances. Riding was something reserved for nobility, soldiers, rich merchants, and the occasional traveler, but farmhands and town boys got from place to place by shank's mare or in the back of a wagon. Still, it was something new to contemplate and anything that would break the tedium of this journey was welcome.

Tad shrugged then Zane grinned, his face lighting up as he said, “Maybe we can become fast messengers?”

Caleb laughed. “In that case you'll have to become very good riders, and how is your sword work?”

“Sword work?” asked Tad.

“Fast messengers get paid all that gold for getting their messages through in a hurry and safely. That means avoiding highwaymen, but also being able to fight to the death if attacked.”

The boys looked at each other again. Neither had touched a sword in their life and both thought it unlikely that they ever would. Zane remarked, “Young Tom Sanderling went to soldier in Nab-Yar, and he learned to handle a sword.”

“Kesh trains all their dog soldiers to be swordsmen,” said Caleb, “but, if memory serves, Old Tom wasn't happy about seeing his son go a-soldiering.”

“True, but what I'm saying is that if he could learn, so could we,” said Zane.

Tad said, “You could show us. You carry a sword, Caleb, so you must know how to use it.”

“Maybe,” said Caleb, realizing he'd probably have to teach them a few basics when they camped that evening.

 

Tad swung wildly at Caleb, who easily moved to the side and smacked the boy hard across the back of his hand with a long stick he had cut a few minutes before. The boy yelped and dropped Caleb's sword on the ground. “The first rule,” said Caleb, bending down to retrieve the fallen weapon, “is don't drop the sword.”

“That hurt,” said Tad, rubbing his right hand.

“Not as much as it would had I been using a blade,” said Caleb, “though it wouldn't have hurt for as long, because I would have gutted you a few seconds later.” He reversed the sword and tossed it to Zane, who caught it deftly. “Good,” said Caleb. “You're quick and have a steady hand. Let's see if you can avoid repeating Tad's mistake.”

The sword felt as if it were alive and deadly in Zane's hand. It was heavier than he had expected and its balance felt odd. He moved it around a little and flexed his wrist one way and then the other.

“That's right,” said Caleb as he circled the fire to face Zane. “Get used to how it feels. Let it become an extension of your arm.”

Suddenly he lashed out with his branch, intending to smack the boy on the hand as he had Tad, but Zane turned his wrist and caught the branch on his blade.

“Very good,” said Caleb, stepping back. “You may have a knack for this. Where did you learn that?”

“I didn't,” said Zane with a grin, lowering the sword. “I just tried to keep the stick from hitting me.”

Caleb turned to Tad. “Did you see how he did that?”

Tad nodded.

Caleb motioned for Zane to drop the point of his blade, then stepped over to the boy and gripped his wrist. “By turning your wrist,
as you did, you achieve the most efficient use of your arm strength and energy. You'll see men who use their entire arm, sometimes up to the shoulder, and sometimes you have to do that for a particular block, but the less strength you use early on, the more endurance you'll have should the battle wear on.”

“Caleb, how long does a fight usually last?”

“Most are short, Tad. But if two men are evenly matched, it can continue for a long time and endurance becomes vital. And if you're in battle, as soon as you kill the man in front of you, another will take his place.”

“I don't know much about battles,” muttered Zane. “Maybe I should get a really fast horse…”

Tad laughed and Caleb said, “Not a bad way to look at it.”

After a few more minutes of sword practice, Caleb said, “Time to turn in.” They had been sleeping under the wagon, so he motioned for them to take their usual places. “I'm going to keep watch tonight. I'll wake Tad first, then he'll wake you, Zane.”

“Watch?” asked Tad, his face looking particularly ruddy in the firelight. “Why? We haven't had one so far.”

“We were close to Stardock.” He glanced around, as if trying to see something in the darkness beyond the fire's glow. “From here to the village of Yar-rin, things might be less civilized. We're heading deeper into the Vale.”

The Vale of Dreams was a lush series of rich farmland, orchards, and villages benefiting from a seemingly endless series of streams that ran from the Pillars of the Stars Mountains to the Great Star Lake. The region had been the object of conflict between the Kingdom of the Isles and the Empire of Great Kesh for over a century. Both sides maintained claims, and both sides sent patrols into the Vale, but the Kingdom observed an unofficial accommodation with the Empire, and the Kingdom patrols did not venture too far south, and the Empire patrols did not wander too far north. As a result, the region had spawned a host of bandit gangs, mercenary companies, minor robber barons, and constant struggle. Finding a pillaged town or a burned-out village at any point was not unusual. If banditry got too out of hand, one nation would look the other
way while the other sent troops deep into the Vale to punish the malefactors.

Zane looked around as if suddenly aware of a potential menace behind every tree bole. Tad seemed less convinced. “What would bandits want with an empty wagon?”

Caleb's smile was indulgent. “Anything that you can sell, they'd want to take. Now, get some sleep.”

The boys turned in and Caleb took the first watch. The night passed uneventfully, though Caleb roused himself twice to ensure the boys were not falling asleep while keeping watch. Both had, and he gently chided each, promising not to tell the other about the dereliction.

By the third night, both boys were keeping alert and Caleb felt comfortable sleeping until dawn.