Master of Hawks (24 page)

Meanwhile Hawk engaged the two remaining soldiers. As he swung down at them, he lunged for his own sword, which was shorter and not so heavy. Despite the awkwardness of fighting a mounted opponent, the soldiers were attacking him forcefully, and one had nicked his leg.

Then one of them made the mistake of trying to wound Hawk's horse. As the soldier's blade thrust downward, Hawk reined the animal into a partial rear and rammed his sword into the man's shoulder. This maneuver disrupted the second soldier's attack so that Hawk had time to pull his sword back and parry that guard's next thrust.

Meanwhile the wounded man stumbled away, his sword arm hanging us
elessly at his side, and ran un
steadily toward the alarm bell. Ro instinctively dodged forward to stop him. The man heard her, whirled around, and drew his dagger using his left hand. Weaponless, Ro stepped back into a defensive crouch, thrusting her arms out as shields.

While Hawk finished off his second assailant, Ro's opponent lunged forward. She sidestepped the blow, only to slip on a patch of blood that ran from the body of the first soldier. She fell.

As the dagger glittered toward her in the torchlight, Hawk spurred his horse into the soldier, knocking him down. His body skittered across the cobblestones, crashed into the wall, and lay still.

When Ro stood, Hawk noticed a widening red stain on her left side. "Did he stab you?" he asked as she mounted.

"No, the swordsman on the stairs grazed my side; I'll be all right. Were you hurt?"

"I've just got a couple of nicks."

Then they were outside the gate, riding at a gallop into the woods. Once inside the trees they slowed.

"What's the matter?" Hawk asked when Ro pulled her horse up sharply.

"The Sylvan plaque. I hid it in one of these trees earlier in the day—I couldn't chance letting it be found on me."

She studied them for a moment. In the darkness it was difficult to tell one tree from the next, so she let her instincts take over. She wheeled her chestnut farther into the trees in the direction that suddenly seemed right and halted by the tree she identified more by hunch than sight. Reaching into the crevice
where the tree forked in two, she found the Sylvan plaque.

Hawk breathed a sigh of relief and urged his horse into the lead. As he headed through the forest to one of the country roads winding south through farmlands, he hoped any pursuers would think they had gone directly to Castle York and would search to the northeast.

Although the moon was bright, gathering clouds began to obscure it, making it difficult to ride at full speed. At least the same condition would hamper anyone following them.

When they'd traveled a few miles, Hawk glanced back at Ro. To his dismay he found that she was slumped forward.

"What's wrong?" he called.

"I'm all right." But her face was too white in the moonlight.

"We'd better take a look at that wound," Hawk said, stopping his horse. As he dismounted he felt a throbbing pain in his leg and realized that he'd almost forgotten his own cut in the excitement of the escape.

Ro did not move from her saddle. "We've got to keep going; the alarm must have sounded by now."

"Not until we bind that wound." He reached her side and began to help her from her horse. As she slipped down he saw that the material she'd pressed against the wound was saturated with blood. He eased her to the ground and peeled back her torn garment and the makeshift bandage to reveal a long, jagged wound along her side.

Taking a clean shirt from his saddlebag, he tore it into strips. Then he knelt by her to clean and bandage the gash.

"You shouldn't have rescued me; you should have taken the plaque on to the Sylvan."

Ro shook her head. "I couldn't leave you behind. We're a team. Besides, I should have sensed that you would be in danger. By the time I knew, it was too late to warn you."

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't know that the other bird-path was around any more than I did. I overheard the guards talking about him; his name is Jaxton Sinclair. He's also a sorcerer—he started the fire at Threeforks."

"If he should come after us . . . " Ro whispered the thought that Hawk had been considering.

"I don't think he will. He's in charge of Kellerton, and the town is evidently undermanned as it is. I really don't think he'd take the chance of coming after us himself. In fact, I doubt that he can spare very many men to track us."

He finished bandaging Ro, pulled down the cloak she'd tied to the back of her bedroll, and put it around her shoulders. Then he used his sword to rip open his trouser leg so that he could bind his own cut.

"How bad is it?" asked Ro.

"A flesh wound. Your wound is a lot more serious.

It's not that deep, but you've lost a lot of blood . . ."

"I'm all right," said Ro, pulling herself erect. "Damn it." Hawk limped over to her. "I'm not sure you're in any condition to ride."

"I'm going to ride," she contradicted with her characteristic determination. "We're hardly out of Sinclair's range, if he should try to stop us with sorcery
,
and we've left a trail easy enough for a child to follow. Come on, you know that I'm right—we've got to put
as many miles between us and Kellerton as we can and get to the Sylvan before it's too late."

Hawk nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words. He knew that even now Castle York could be under siege, fighting against the greatest alliance of sorcerers ever known—Taral and his Council of Seven. They dared not waste any time in reaching the Sylvan.

"Are you sure you'll be able to ride?" he asked, helping her mount.

"You did a good job of doctoring. The bleeding's stopped now."

"Okay, but if it starts again, let me know." Worriedly he thought of the long ride ahead that might reopen her wound at any time.

She seemed to sense his fears, for she smiled at him and her eyes glowed with that same fierce intensity and determination he'd seen before.

"I'm an S'Cascar, remember? Do you think I'm going to let a little flesh wound stop me?" With that comment she galloped off, forcing Hawk to gather his canteen and sword quickly, mount, and pound after her.

Then she slowed and let him retake the lead. As he passed her he saw her face clearly in the moonlight.

It was the same beautiful face he'd daydreamed about, but the cold reality of the blood she'd dispassionately spilled washed away his romantic fantasies. For the first time he began to realize that it was not the differences in their height, rank, or birth that would keep them apart, but rather something more fundamental. Even if he were high-born, there would be a gulf between them.

He admired her self-confidence, her ability to command, her ruthlessness in a fight. But these were the qualities he wanted in a friend, not a lover.

Uneasily he thought of the men that had died in their escape, the birds he'd hurt, the loss of his mother's pin. The cost was high, but at least they had accomplished their mission. Now all that was left was to take the plaque to the Sylvan.

He just hoped that the Sylvan's aid would not come too late.

16

As Jaxton listened to Wagner Prenis report on the escape, he reflected that the last twenty-four hours were just about the worst he had ever been through.

First had come the bird attack at the Shrine of the Three Miracles, then the battle with the hawk-telepath, and finally the revelation that the man Hawk was in fact his own brother.

In the next hours he'd had to suppress the shock of that as he prepared the town for further possible attacks. He'd also spoken with various N'Omb priests and town officials in a somewhat successful attempt to mollify their fears that he and the Empire were behind the disruption of the Saint Steffan festival.

It wasn't until late that night that he'd had a real
chance to think about his brother. In the privacy of his apartments he'd stared at the jade leaf pin and felt the doubts and questions return to the surface of his mind. When he again compared its pattern to that of the gold border around the Pendant of Thantos, he had realized that the means to verify the pin's origin lay within his grasp. The spellstone could be used to reveal strong memories that might be associated with an object.

As the great clock tower tolled the hour of one, he had drawn the double circle around the pin and said the spell that wove a web of remembrance. Then he'd placed the amber powerstone over the pin and stared at it until the translucent crystal became opaque.

Flashes of swiftly changing scenes swirled in a collage of color on the surface of the Thantos. They were glimpses of the lives of those who had worn the pin. It was like looking through the bottom of a bottle as soundless images twisted and formed and then altered. Most of the scenes were meaningless to Jaxton, but they were enough to tell him what he needed to know.

In the kaleidoscope of shapes and colors he had seen his mother and glimpsed her death at the hands of highwaymen. He'd seen a child grow into a man—the man Hawk. Finally there had been scenes of Hawk struggling with the guards when they'd taken the pin from him. Then the images faded, and the Pendant became lifeless.

He'd hoped that the pin would reveal some useful information about York, perhaps even confirm his
suspicions about the reasons for the bird attack, but the images were too warped and fragmentary to do much more than whet his curiosity.

Although the spell had confirmed Hawk's identity, Jaxton had realized that the truth could not alter the decision he had already made. In the morning the hawk-telepath would be tortured, would confess, and would die. It did not matter that a bond of blood lay between them. As far as anyone else knew, his brother had died in childhood, and there could be no alteration in that story. Hawk was a threat to him in too many ways, any one of which would be sufficient for his removal. He was a York spy, a powerful bird-telepath, an unwanted heir to the kingdom of Akron . . .

It was regrettable and not a little ironic to have found a long lost brother only to be forced to eliminate him, Jaxton thought as he took the jade pin and slipped its chain over his head. It was his now—a memento of his mother. As for his brother, as far as Jaxton was concerned he had died with her a long time ago.

He had slept then—the deep, untroubled sleep of one with a clean conscience, or of one without any—until Wagner Prenis had knocked frantically at his door bringing news of the latest in the day's series of disasters.

Jaxton pushed aside the memories of the day and concentrated more fully on his aide's description of the escape.

"One of the soldiers at the east gate sounded the alarm." Prenis's thin face tensed. "When my men and I went to investigate, we discovered the body of the guard on watch at the main door. Then we found the two dead prison guards—one's body had been half-eaten by rats."

"Rats?"

"Yes, sir—the dungeon's full of them. After the guard was killed, they evidently were attracted by the blood . . . and . . . well, they can get awfully hungry."

"I see. So someone got in, killed the three guards, freed the spy, and then they all escaped by the east gate?" asked Jaxton.

"Well, yes and no . . . " Prenis wet his lips. "Apparently only two of them left by the gate. I've sent out patrols to look for any other accomplices. According to the wounded guard, only a woman and the prisoner rode out."

"Well, how many others were involved?"

The lieutenant looked at the floor. "The guard didn't see any others, and nobody saw anything happening at the city hall, at least nobody who's able to tell the tale."

Jaxton poured some water into the washbowl and splashed his face to wash away the cotton that seemed to fog his mind; he must have misunderstood the man.

He rubbed his eyes and turned back to Prenis. "Are you saying that the telepath managed to escape with the help of just one woman?"

"Well, no, sir, I mean, I don't know. It doesn't seem likely that a lone woman could have broken him out of the cell. More than likely it took a couple men to take out the three guards there without raising an alarm. But the wounded guard swears that there were just the two of them at the gate. Evidently the girl was quite a looker, sir, and one of the men took her up to the guardhouse . . . "

Jaxton slammed his fist into his hand. "So she opened the gate?"

"Yes, sir, and stuck a knife in him too, it seems. Then she and the telepath killed the other two guards and left the wounded man for dead. He was unconscious for a while, but finally woke up and managed to ring the alarm bell."

"You said you sent men after them?"

"Yes, I sent a search party out just as soon as we learned about the escape. I figure they couldn't have had much more than a couple hour's head start, and they didn't have any spare horses with them. I'm sure my men will catch up with them long before they reach Castle York."

"If they're heading for York . . . " mused Jaxton. Although it was their most likely destination, the roads would be clogged with S'Stratford's troops, and the siege could have started by now. No, they might have gone aground somewhere nearby, even headed to Threeforks. If the alarm had sounded sooner, he could have caught them with the Thantos spellstone, but by now they were well out of his range. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should go after Hawk himself. However, the nature of the escape seemed to indicate that there were other York agents still at large within Kellerton; could he afford to leave when they might be planning something else?