Talon of the Silver Hawk

Part of Kieli’s mind registered he was hearing words in the traders’ language, what was called the Common Tongue, not the language of the Orosini.

He felt another pair of hands upon him. As they began to move him, he groaned and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Pain coursed though Kieli’s body as he came awake. He forced his eyes open and tried to lift his head. The effort brought forth a wave of agony and his stomach churned, yet there was nothing in it for him to vomit up. The wracking pain that swept through him made him gasp aloud and moan.

His eyes couldn’t focus so he could not see the owner of the gentle hands that pushed him back and said, ‘Lie still, lad. Breathe slowly.’

Kieli saw shapes before him: heads in shadow, lightning in the sky above them. He blinked and tried to clear his eyes. ‘Here,’ said another voice from above him, and a gourd of water touched his lips.

‘Drink slowly,’ said the first voice. ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood. We didn’t think you’d make it.’

The first swallow of water caused the spasms to return, and he vomited up the tiny bit of water. ‘Sip, then,’ said the voice.

He did as he was instructed and the mouthful of water stayed down. Suddenly he was thirsty beyond memory. He tried to swallow, but the gourd was removed from his lips. He attempted to lift his hand to grasp it, but his arm would not obey his command.

‘Sip, I said,’ demanded the voice. The gourd was pressed against his lips again and he sipped, and the cool water trickled down his throat.

He focused his meagre strength on getting the water down and keeping it down. Then he lifted his eyes above the rim of the gourd and attempted to discern the features of his benefactor. All he could see was a vague lump of features topped by a thatch of grey. Then he fell back into darkness.

At some point they stopped for a few days. He recognized a structure around him, a barn or shed, he couldn’t be sure which. And he knew it was raining for a time, because the air was heavy with the scent of wet soil and the mustiness of mould on wood.

After that images came and fled. He was in a wagon, and for a brief time one afternoon he sensed he was in the woodlands, but not those near his home. He didn’t know how he knew – some glimpse of trees that didn’t match the lofty balsams, cedars and aspens of his own forest. There were oaks, and elms and trees he didn’t recognize. He lapsed back into his troubled slumber.

He remembered bits of food being pressed to his mouth and how he swallowed them, his throat constricting and his chest burning. He remembered feverish dreams and awoke several times drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. He remembered calling out his father’s name.

One night he dreamed he was warm, at home, in the round house with his mother and the other women. He felt awash with their love. Then he awoke on the hard ground with the smell of wet soil in his nostrils, the smoke from a recently-banked campfire cutting through the air, and two men asleep on either side of him and he fell back, wondering how he had come to this place. Then memory returned to him and he recalled the attack on his village. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he wept as he felt all the hope and joy die in his chest.

He could not count the days he travelled. He knew there were two men caring for him, but he could not recall if they had given him their names. He knew they had asked him questions and that he had answered, but he could not recall the subject of those discussions.

Then one morning, clarity returned to him.

Kieli opened his eyes and although he was weak, he found he could understand his surroundings. He was in a large barn, with doors at either end. In a close-by stall, he could hear horses eating. He was lying upon a pallet of straw covered by a double blanket, and had two more blankets over him. The air was hazy with smoke from a small camp stove, a rectangle of beaten iron sheeting within which coals were allowed to burn. Safer in a barn full of hay than an open fire. Kieli elbowed himself up and gazed around. The smoke stung his eyes a little, but much of it escaped through an open door in the hayloft. It was quiet, so Kieli judged it was not raining.

His body ached and he felt stiff, but his slight movement didn’t bring on waves of pain as it had before.

There was a man sitting upon a wooden stool, regarding him with dark eyes. The man’s hair was mostly grey, though bits of black still remained. His droopy moustache hung down on either side of a mouth that was tightly pursed as if he were concentrating. A heavy fringe hid most of his forehead, and his hair hung to his shoulders.

Blinking an accumulation of gunk from the corners of his eyes, Kieli asked, ‘Where am I?’

The man looked at him inquisitively. ‘So, you’re back with us?’ he asked rhetorically. He paused for a moment. ‘Robert!’ he shouted over his shoulder towards the barn doors.

A moment later the doors swung open and another man entered the barn and came to kneel beside Kieli.

This man was older still, his hair grey without colour, but his eyes were powerful and his gaze held the boy’s. ‘Well, Talon, how do you feel?’ he asked softly.

‘Talon?’

‘You said your name was Talon of the Silver Hawk,’ supplied the older man.

The lad blinked and tried to gather his thoughts, struggling to understand why he might have said such a thing. Then he recalled the vision, and he realized that it had, indeed, been his naming vision. A distant voice echoed in his mind, rise and be a talon for your people.

‘What do you remember?’

‘I remember the battle …’ A dark pit opened inside his stomach and he felt tears begin to gather. Forcing the sadness aside, he said, ‘They’re all dead, aren’t they?’

‘Yes,’ answered the man named Robert. ‘What do you recall after the battle?’

‘A wagon …’ Kieli, who now had to think of himself as ‘Talon’, closed his eyes for a while, then said, ‘You carried me away.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Robert. ‘We couldn’t very well leave you to die from your wounds.’ Softly he added, ‘Besides, there are some things we would know of you and the battle.’

‘What?’ asked Talon.

‘That can wait until later.’

‘Where am I?’ Talon repeated.

‘You are in the barn at Kendrick’s Steading.’

Talon tried to remember. He had heard of this place, but could not recall any details. ‘Why am I here?’

The man with the droopy moustache laughed. ‘Because we rescued your sorry carcass and this is where we were bound.’

‘And,’ continued Robert, ‘this is a very good place to rest and heal.’ He stood and moved away, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. ‘This is a forester’s hut, not used for years. Kendrick is allowing us to use his barn without charge. His inn has warmer rooms, cleaner bedding, and better food –’

‘But it also has too many eyes and ears,’ offered the first man.

Robert threw him a glance and shook his head slightly.

The first man said, ‘You bear a man’s name, yet I see no tattoos upon your face.’

‘The battle was on my naming day,’ Talon answered weakly.

The second man, the one called Robert, looked back at his companion, then returned his attention to the boy. ‘That was over two weeks ago, lad. You’ve been travelling with us since Pasko found you in your village.’

‘Did anyone else survive?’ Talon asked, his voice choking with emotion.

Robert returned to the boy’s side, knelt and put his hand gently on his shoulders and said, ‘Gone. All of them.’

Pasko said, ‘The bastards were thorough, I’ll give them that.’

‘Who?’ asked Talon.

Robert’s hand gently pushed the boy back onto the pallet. ‘Rest. Pasko will have some hot soup for you soon. You’ve been at death’s door. We didn’t think you’d survive for a long while. We’ve seen you through with sips of water and cold broth. It’s time to put some strength back in you.’ He paused. ‘There are many things to talk about, but we have time. We have a great deal of time, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’

Talon did not want to rest: he wanted answers, but his weakened body betrayed him and he lay back and found sleep welcoming him again.

The song of birds greeted him as he awoke ravenous. Pasko brought over a large earthen mug of hot broth and urged him to drink slowly. The other man, Robert, was nowhere to be seen.