Talon: The Windwalker Archive (Book 1) (14 page)

“
Oh,” Majhree frowned but quickly recovered her smile.

“
This is good news,” she beamed with effort. A worried frown cast a shadow of concern over her face and marred her efforts. “I hope this news means you won’t be taking up a bed as often.”

Talon avoided her allusion
to his self-inflicted injuries at the hands of the Vaka and changed the subject.

“
Vaka Bjorn has suggested Jahsin and I have our own boat for collecting your seaweed. He wants thirty percent of all profits after payment for the boat is reimbursed.”

Majhree
stared at him, dumbfounded. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said with a shake of the head and click of the tongue. “Told you there was still a chance; you three can sail out of here whenever you want.”

Talon hadn’
t thought about it that way. His mind had been set on leaving on the night of Freista, when the chaos would afford them a distraction. He still thought it a good idea to leave on the new moon, however. His mind began to shift from attaining a sail to freeing Chief and Akkeri. He had been so absorbed with building the raft that he had not thought much about how they might be freed.

A week later he and Jahsin got the promised keipr. It was a small boat, similar to other two-man keiprs, only slightly larger and with a single sail in the middle. They loaded up the seaweed pots, trying to hide their glee as Vaka Bjorn recited instructions and precautions should they capsize. Talon barely heard a thing the man said as he waited in quiet anticipation of getting out onto the waters. He could see Jahsin was nearly jumping out of his skin himself. Their excitement was not missed by Vaka Bjorn.

“
You two look like you seen mermaids,” he laughed. “In you go.”

They boarded the
keipr, Talon taking up the forward position next to the sail and Jahsin manning the rudder. Vaka Bjorn paused before pushing them out and deadpanned to them in turn. “Mind you come back, ya hear?”

“
Course we will,” said Talon, trying to keep his face blank.

Bjorn smirked and gave the faintest of winks before pushing them off. They
each took up a paddle as they left the shallows and headed out to sea.

“
Mind the winds and the current!” he yelled from the shallows as they paddled themselves out further.

“
And keep land in sight!”

Voices carried over the water, so
neither of them spoke until they were well beyond earshot. The small waves crashing into shore would make them harder to hear, but they didn’t want to risk it. When they were well enough away, Talon turned to regard a stupefied Jahsin.

“
What the hells was that about?” Jahsin asked with wide eyes.

“
I don’t know.”

“
He suspects somethin’,” Jahsin pressed nervously.

“
Well, if he cared, I doubt he would have given us a boat,” said Talon.

Jahsin nodded as if to reassure himself
, but worry still etched his face.

“
Come on, Jah; we could spend our whole lives worrying about maybes. We have a boat; now we need to figure out a way to free Chief and Akkeri. I say the sooner, the better.”

“
All right, all right. But you gotta stop getting whipped all the time. You bein’ laid up for days in the healin’ house ain’t helpin’ nobody.”

“
Don’t worry about me.”

“
I am worried, Tal. You got more whip marks than anybody I know. Feikin sakes, man, seems like you been tryin’ to get beat.”

Talon said nothing but loosened the sail and tied it off. The wind caught and the
keipr lurched forward. Sea spray shot up over the bow and covered them in mist.

Jahsin said no more on the subject
, and they sailed in silence. Talon felt a freedom on the open waters he had never experienced on land. The whole world seemed to be laid out in front of him as they made for the deeper waters. From here they could go anywhere. He had seen a map his amma had left out one night. He was old enough to read at the time and had been amazed to discover that Volnoss was so small compared to mainland Agora. The names of every kingdom and city made his imagination go wild. Eldalon, Shierdon, Uthen-Arden, and strange elven names like Elladrindellia and Cerushia, and the long dwarven mountain ranges, Ky’Dren, Elgar, and Ro’Sar. From that day on, he had dreamt of what life might be like for the people of Agora. Better than his, he guessed.

Behind them
Volnoss became a faraway bump on the horizon, and Talon became giddy with excitement. He couldn’t wait to set out with his friends and Chief to their new life in Agora. It would be the best day of his life.

Could he be the first to pass the test? In my centuries I have met few like him.

—
Azzeal, 4996

They named the
keipr Kvenna, after Talon’s mother. Jahsin had suggested they name her Freedom but soon agreed the name would be too blatant. They took her out twice a week and gathered enough of the wetweed to pay back the cost of the boat in only four trips. If Vaka Bjorn suspected anything, he kept his thoughts to himself, though he did regard them with a knowing glance.

T
he profits from the wetweed started coming in and Majhree insisted they take their cut in any form they chose. They decided to continue with the raft backup project and traded their wares for more rope and food. Soon they would stage the sinking of Kvenna far offshore so they could hide the theft of the sail.

Talon had spent a few days teaching Jahsin how to swim, as they would need to make it back to sho
re after the boat went under. They decided to blame the accident on sabotage. Already they had begun to put it in Vaka Bjorn’s head that there was competition for wetweed somewhere on the island. Jahsin sold large quantities of the stuff through underground channels anonymously to solidify the story.

The ploy worked bet
ter than they had hoped. One day, three weeks before Freista was to take place, Vaka Groegon informed Talon he was done in the mines. The man could barely contain his anger at the order.

“
Looks like you so good at woman work they want you flower pickin’ full-time,” he said with a sneer.

Talon had the urge to laugh at the sad, angry man, but he held his tongue.

“Don’t matter anyhow. The night of dying is comin’ sure as sumar be on its way. I’ll be watchin’, boy; I’ll be there to see your head stuck to a pike.”

T
alon left the mines happier than he had dared to be in the six weeks since Fylkin took Akkeri. Everything was coming together now. He now had time to collect more wetweed, and he’d therefore be able to afford whatever supplies he and Jahsin deemed necessary. He had begun to formulate a plan in his head, one he had not yet shared with Jahsin. He knew what his friend would say about it: the plan was too dangerous; they would surely get caught. Somehow he would convince Jahsin to go through with it in the end.

As Talon
walked down the well-worn road from the mines to the Skomm village, he noticed the white owl watching him like before. Once again he felt compelled to stop and stare at the magnificent bird. Talon had seen owls before, but never as large as this one, which stood nearly three feet tall. The white owl sat perched in its tree, unmoving, staring at Talon over its right wing. He wondered how long the owl would stare—likely forever. The longer he held the gaze, the more he sensed awareness in the eyes of the creature—as if an intelligence far beyond that of a mere owl was possessed in those dark orbs.

He finally looked away to the sun and
noticed that it had moved considerably in the sky. Glancing back to the owl, he found it gone. The branch swayed in the wake of its leap. He scoured the sky and spotted it gliding above the tree line to the east. It swooped around and landed on another branch and peered in Talon’s direction.

“
Talon Windwalker,” came a whisper in his ear, and he snapped his head around, startled. Nobody was there. He turned in a complete circle twice, searching for the culprit.

Talon
Windwalker,
the whisper spoke again in his head, and he reeled around to the woods. His heart pounded in his chest as he searched for the one who had spoken. He dared not look to the owl, though he knew the truth in the back of his mind. The sound had not been whispered in his ear; rather, it had been more like a thought.

“
Who’s there?” he yelled to the woods. The dark forest afforded many places to hide among the deep shadows cast by the fat pine trees.

“
Jahsin, that you?” he asked the shadows.

Only his echo answered
.

Three pheasants erupted from the underbrush to his left
, and he jumped and nearly cried out as their wings beat at the air like drums. Finally he turned to the owl. The bird leapt from the tree and continued to the east.

“
You’re losing your mind, Talon,” he said to himself. “There is no way that owl called your name.”

T
he owl glided off into the distance until finally it was out of sight. The woods below the owl consisted mostly of white birches. The land was rocky and unfertile, covered more often with moss than grass. It rose up steadily toward one of the highest points on Volnoss.

Talon took off in a sprint
, suddenly compelled to follow the owl. Branches slapped and scratched at his face as he passed, but he paid them no mind. He searched the treetops for any sign of the owl. Finding no sign of the creature, he climbed to the crest of a small hill which opened to a wide expanse of abandoned mines. Nothing grew in the spiraling pit, and the bottom had flooded long ago. He scanned the rim of the mines which, at its widest, was well over four thrown stone. He had nearly given up when, to the east, he noticed the owl perched as before.

“Hey!” he yelled, scrambling down to the first ring of the pit and running along the hard-packed stone.

“You, white owl! Wait!”

The owl leapt from the tree and flew off
to the other side of the pit, disappearing into a dark hollow shadowed in pine. Talon ran across the rim and followed the owl into the hollow. Vines grew here in such thick knots and tangles that fragmented light shot through at random angles like long lances. The going proved slow through the maze of vine and bramble, and soon Talon found himself hopelessly lost. Thinking himself the fool, he decided to turn back. As he turned to make his way out, the vines suddenly thickened and barred his way. He was startled by a quick creaking and shuffle. He turned with a jerk and found the vine had parted and now formed a kind of hallway through the forest. He glanced back the way he had come; having no real choice, he went on cautiously through the vine tunnel.

He had long forg
otten the daylight when he came to the opening of a wide cave. The glow of faraway fire danced about the entrance. Talon hesitated. He remembered enough of the morals of the hero tales Amma told to know that going into a cave unarmed would not end well. But Talon wasn’t a hero; he was just Talon, and he doubted anyone would go to such trouble to cause him harm. He realized he was not dealing with an owl, but likely a spirit of some sorts. The swift growing of the vines suggested magic.

“
I should just turn around now; what am I doing here? Am I losing my mind?” he asked himself.

“
Your mind is not lost, my friend; come, sit with me by the fire.”

The voice came in
rippling echoes from inside the cave. The vines behind him parted and the sun shone through. To his right lay a path leading back down into the pine forest at the edge of the mine. Talon realized he had climbed up the side of a tall hill.

“
Or you can go; as you please.”

Talon thought about running down the path all th
e way back to the Skomm village; his instincts screamed at him to do so. Nevertheless he remained; if he ran away, he would always wonder what had been in the cave. The thought occurred to him that he could be walking into his death. If indeed it were some sort of spirit or demon, he would be walking right into its trap, like a fly to web and none the wiser. Didn’t such creatures lure the young into their dens in such a way? Before he lost his nerve, he stepped forward into the cave, into the soft glow of orange light—into the unknown.

Thodin! Do you have no mercy for the children of your daughter, Sjofn, Goddess of Love?

—G
retzen Spiritbone, 4996

The glow of fire reflected from webs of mine
ral deposits in the slick walls, creating a thousand points of sparkling light. The entrance of the cave gave way to a winding tunnel leading him along for many paces before opening into a large den. He stopped at the opening and nearly cried out in surprise when he discovered a large bear sleeping by the fire. Across from the beast sat a silhouetted figure holding his hands before the flame.

“
Come, sit with me beside the fire,” said the man. “Beorn will not hurt you.”

Talon looked to the bear and to the man again.

You’ve come this far,
said a voice in his head. For a terrified moment Talon wondered if indeed it had been his voice.

He slowly made hi
s way toward the man who extended his arm to indicate the stump between him and the bear. Talon walked behind him and tried to make his appearance in the shadows, but his eyes showed him only nonsense, and he wondered again whether he were going mad. The man had hair of moss and feather and seemed to be clothed in leaves. Bumps that looked like the beginnings of antlers protruded from his forehead. When Talon sat on the stump beside him, he feared to meet the creature’s eyes. He stared forward at the flame instead and noticed the man staring at him from the corner of his eye. His amma said spirits hid in the corner of your eye; Talon believed her. He suddenly wanted to run for his life.

“
I can make my eyes more pleasant for you to look upon if you wish,” said the man, turning away from him. The man’s voice was many; it grumbled like a bear and at the same time purred like a mountain lion.

Talon summoned his courage and slowly turned his head
; the man was not a man at all, but an elf.

“
Feikinstafir,” Talon mumbled to himself and jerked his head and eyes back to the fire.

“
Azzeal,” said the elf.

“
What?” Talon asked.

The elf turned to regard him w
ith a smile; feline eyes reflected the dancing flames.

“
My name is Azzeal, and that is Beorn. What is this Feikinstafir?”

“
It can m…mean a lot of things, m…mostly bad.”

Azzeal seemed to ponder the lesson
, and Talon stared despite himself. At first he thought the elf simply wore the leaves; however, the harder Talon stared, the more it became apparent that the leaves were attached to him and actually grew from him. The bear groaned and rolled on its side; its big belly shook as it stretched.

“
Your fear makes it hard for him to sleep,” said Azzeal.

Talon tho
ught he must be going mad. Not only was he talking to an owl who had turned out to be an elf, but worse: the elf was now speaking for a bear.

“
Is this a dream?” he asked.

“
Some believe so; others believe our dreams are reality. I say, what is the difference?”

“
Are you the owl who’s been staring at me all the time?”

Azzeal grinned.
“I am, but that is what owls do. Your kind rarely take notice of me. They walk with heads down. But you see the world, don’t you, Talon Windwalker? You see the world and all its pains—all its beauty.”

“
I guess,” said Talon, thinking the elf quite strange.

“
You aren’t really an owl; are you really an elf?”

“
Yes, indeed, I am an elf. I am Ralliad Azzeal of Elladrindellia. I am here from faraway lands to study your plants and animals.”

“
Are you magic?”

“
Magic…” Azzeal pondered with furled brow. “Yes, I suppose the word fits.”

Talon’s imagination went wild. If the elf could turn into an owl, tame a bear, and make vines grow at his command, what else could he do?

“Can you read my mind?” he asked, suddenly paranoid.

“
I cannot; the practice is forbidden by my people. But you think…loudly. Often your thoughts are hard
not
to overhear.”

Talon didn’t understand.

“Imagine, if you will, the wind: The wind blows often lightly or not at all; still you know it’s there. Some people’s thoughts are a gentle breeze and hardly noticeable, while others’ thoughts are a tempest of powerful emotions.”

Talon understood. Recently his emotions fel
t exactly like a storm—one that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

“
You have weathered the storm thus far, and that is commendable,” said Azzeal.

Thodin’s beard! He heard my thoughts
. He can hear them now—shyte.
Talon stared into the flames and tried to clear his mind. The dancing fire reminded him of Akkeri’s hair. The maddening thoughts came rushing back to him then, and he saw again Fylkin’s big hands fondling her lithe form.

“
Are you going to help me; is that why you lured me here?” Talon asked, knowing the elf had overheard those thoughts.

Azzeal regarded
him with a piercing stare, and Talon felt as if his soul was laid bare before him. He was ashamed. Azzeal saw him for what he was: a curse. The elf smiled sympathetically, and Talon thought he saw a tear shimmering in the corner of his feline eye.

“
I would help you to help yourself,” said Azzeal, staring at the fire.

“
Why?” Talon wondered aloud.

“
I have been watching you for a long time, and I have seen in you something rare. You have been hated all your life, yet you are slow to hate. You have been the victim of violence all your life, yet you are slow to violence. You released the lynx at the risk of your own life. And though you were hurt by Brekken, you took no joy in his death. There is greatness in you, Talon Windwalker, if only you could see it in yourself.”

Azzeal laughed as Talon regarded him with speculation
. “But how the righteous are humble.”

Talon didn’t like hearing of himself in such a way.
Azzeal sounded like his amma, and everybody knew she was crazy. He wondered what about him attracted crazy—probably the evil spirits who fed off his misery. He wondered then whether Azzeal was indeed one of them, toying with him for his own amusement. His story of wanting to help him because he was somehow “special” was absurd. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected a trap.

He can hear my thoughts. I can’t even plo
t an escape without him knowing.

Talon turned a suspicious gaze upon Azzeal, but the elf stared at the fire as if he were not privy to Talon’
s inner ramblings.

He was about to ask Azzeal if he could le
ave when the elf got up and went to the back of the cave beyond a moss bed. Talon glanced at the tunnel out of the cave, knowing this was his only chance to run. For some reason he stayed. What if the elf could really help? His life was likely forfeited anyway; he had to find out.

Azzeal returned with three glas
ses of what looked to be wine, each a different color. He set them upon a small table between their two stumps. Then he sat down and curled his long, clawed fingers around the glass full of a light honey liquid and took it as his own. Talon stared at the other two glasses, a voice in his head warning of poison. The glass to his right was white, and the one to his left was red.

“
Each of these drinks contains a powerful spell. The one to your right will give you the ability to transform evil into good. With it you could change the hearts and minds of the Vald and bring harmony to Volnoss. The Skomm would become equals, and your father would call you son. All ills would be forgiven. Your barbarians would thrive.”

Azzeal let Talon ponder the white
wine for a time and finally gestured to the red.

“
This wine—this will give you strength to match your enemy’s and the power to crush them all. With it you would grow ten feet tall. You would look up to no man. You would become chief of all of Volnoss, and all would bow before you. The name Talon Windwalker would go down in history as the greatest barbarian who ever lived. You alone would decide who is named Vald and who is named Skomm.

“
Decide.”

Talon stared at
Azzeal with wide-eyed wonder. In his mind he imagined himself taking up a great sword and storming Timber Wolf Village. He would slay all who stood before him and then seek out Chiefson Fylkin and take the sword to every part of him that ever touched Akkeri. With such power he might free the Skomm and destroy the hated Vald. Volnoss would become a ring of fire as the seven barbarian villages burned to the ground.

Then he imagined
the innocent children of the Vald, and heard their screams. The revolting Skomm would kill them all. Talon imagined himself sitting upon a throne of bones, the flames of war burning brightly behind him.

He reached for the white
wine and drank it down without hesitation. Azzeal grinned and drank his own.

Talon put down the glass and waited. He looked to his
hands and body; he felt nothing. Azzeal pulled a ring from one of his fingers. The band of silver and gold wrapped like vine, set with a single blue stone the size of a pea.

“
If you had chosen the red wine, I would have sent you away. But you did not,” he said with a proud smile that showed his long fangs. He held the ring up ceremoniously.

“
It is named Kyrr, the Ring of Righteous Anger. Kyrr will lend its power only to the righteous of heart. I believe yours is such a heart. You rejected the power of the red wine, and so I shall give it to you. The ring will give you the strength of your enemies…if your actions are righteous. Would if I could give you the power suggested by the white wine, but alas, such a power does not exist. Evil cannot be turned to good so easily, for it is a choice.”

Azzeal lowered the ring in offering and Talon took it with a shaking hand. He turned it round and round in the firelight
, afraid to put it on.

“
Wear the ring when you see fit. But beware. Once it is used, there will be no going back. It will not go unnoticed, and others will covet its power; be prepared.”

Talon gulped and put the ring in his pocket.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Talon.

“
I would thank
you
,” Azzeal grinned. “You are the first in twenty to choose the white wine.”

Talon left the cave as though emerging from a dream. He fingered the ring in his pocket as he walked back through the vine tunnel and out into the bright sunlight. He had forgotten it was still daylight and had to pause while his vision adjusted. He peered around quickly and lifted the ring to the sky. The blue gem shone with a hypnotic inner light. He pocketed it quickly.

Would it really give him the strength of his enemies? Had Azzeal even been real?

He had the ring to prove his sanity, but he was still hard pressed to believe it was anything but a ring. Either way he would have to keep it out of sight. One look at the valuable gem set upon it and the Vaka would take it from him and likely kill him for having it.

He made his way to the
road and headed back toward Skomm Village. His mind was lost on daydreams of redemption, so he did not see Vaka Groegon riding down the road toward him until it was too late.

“
Letta!
” Groegon yelled, reining in his horse to slow.

Talon put his head down and began walking briskly north.

“Where you headed in such a hurry, Plagueborn?” he sneered and came to ride beside him.

“
Home,” said Talon without stopping.

“
Home?” Vaka Groegon cackled. “You ain’t got no home. You hear, Plagueborn?”

“
Yes, Vaka Groegon.”

The Vaka
kicked him in the back hard and sent him sprawling to the ground. Groegon was off his horse and pulling back his whip in the time it took Talon to get to his feet.

Crack! The whip sliced his right shoulder as he turned to cover his face.

“How ’bout a few good ones for ol’ time’s sake?”

The whip fell across
Talon’s back and he turned to run past the horse. Heavy footfalls fell behind him as Talon fumbled in his pocket for Azzeal’s ring. The whip cracked again and wrapped around his ankle as he got his hand around the ring. He was quickly yanked back by the stronger man. He clasped his hand but felt no ring in his palm; having dropped it in the mud. The whip slashed across his back and he cried out desperately as he fumbled in the mud for the ring. The whip struck again and again to the chorus of Vaka Groegon’s hollered obscenities.