David Gemmel - The Hawk Eternal

Daggers held firm, they walked warily, but as they moved under the overhanging branches a voice jolted them. Gwalchmai dropped his dagger in fright, then scooped it up swiftly.

“Good morning, boys.”

To their right, in a circular clearing, a woman was sitting on a fallen oak. At her feet was a blanket on which was laid a breakfast of black bread and cold meat.

She was dressed in a manner they had never seen before. Upon her shoulders was a mail scarf of closely linked silver rings. Beneath this she wore a fitted breastplate of silver, embossed with a copper hawk, its wings spread wide, disappearing beneath the mail scarf. About her waist was a leather kilt, studded with copper and split into sections for ease of movement. She wore dark leggings and silver greaves over riding boots. Her arms were bare save for a thick bracelet of silver on her right wrist; on her left was a wrist guard of black leather.

And she was old. Thick silver hair swept back from a face lined with wisdom and sorrow. But her eyes were bright, ice-blue, and her bearing straight and unbending.

Gaelen watched her closely, noting the way she looked at them all.

She must have been beautiful when young, he thought. But there was something in her expression he could not pinpoint; it seemed a mixture of wonder and regret.

“Will you join me for breakfast?” she invited.

“Who are you?” asked Agwaine.

The woman smiled. “I am Sigarni-the Queen,” she said.

“We have no queens in the Farlain,” said Layne.

“I am the Queen Beyond,” she said, with a slow smile.

“You are on Farlain land,” Agwaine told her sternly. “No stranger is allowed here. Are you from the Aenir?”

“No, Agwaine. I am a guest of the Lord Taliesen.”

“Can you prove this?”

“I don’t feel the need to. You boys are here on the Hunt. Taliesen asked if he could borrow my sword for it. If you open the package you will find it-a beautiful weapon of metal which one of you will have seen. The hilt is of ebony, and shaped for a warrior to hold with both hands, while the guard is of iron decorated with gold and silver thread. The scabbard is embossed with a hawk, even as on my breastplate. Now open the package and return what is mine.”

“Open it,” said Layne. “If it is true, then the sword must be returned to its rightful owner.”

“No, it is mine,” said Agwaine, flushing. “I won the Hunt and this is my proof.”

“You don’t need proof,” said Gaelen. “We know you won, the sword is only a symbol. Open the package.”

Agwaine drew his dagger and sliced the leather thongs binding the oilskins. As the woman had predicted, the sword was indeed a wondrous weapon. Reluctantly Agwaine handed it over. The woman swiftly buckled the scabbard to her waist. Had there been any doubt as to the ownership, it was laid to rest as she placed it at her side. It was like watching a picture completed, thought Gaelen.

The sword in place, she returned to her seat on the tree. She gestured at the food. “Come. Eat your fill,” she said. “I was expecting eight of you. Where are the others?”

The boys exchanged glances.

“They are dead,” said Gaelen.

“Dead?” asked the Queen, rising to her feet gracefully. “How so?”

Gaelen told of the beast and their flight from the mountains.

“Damn!” she said. “Taliesen came to me in a dream yester-eve. He told me you were lost upon the mountain and that I should seek you here. He said nothing of a beast.”

“He came to me also,” said Gaelen. “And he said nothing of a queen.”

She smiled without humor. “So be it, then. The ways of wizards are a mystery to me and I pray they’ll stay that way. Now, describe this creature.”

All of them started to speak at once, but she waved them to silence and pointed to Agwaine. “You saw it closely. You speak.”

Agwaine did as he was bid, recalling vividly the power of the brute and its awesome size, its speed, and its semihuman appearance.

“You are right to consider running,” said the woman when he had finished. “I have seen the like of the beast before in my own kingdom. More than once. They are terrible-and hard to slay. Although it kills to eat, once it has fixed on a prey it will pursue it damn near forever. This beast has-in a way-been hunting me for forty years.”

“Why you?” whispered Gaelen.

“It was sent a long time ago by a sorcerer named Jakuta Khan. But that is a story for another day, Gaelen.”

“What can we do?” asked Layne.

“You can eat breakfast and put some strength in your limbs. Then we will plan for battle.”

The companions seated themselves at her feet and dug into the loaves and meat. The bread tasted fresh-baked and the beef was tender and pink. They ate without gusto, except for Lennox who tore great chunks of bread and crammed them into his mouth.

The Queen watched him, eyebrows raised. “You were perhaps expecting a famine?”

“Either that or he’s going to cause one,” observed Gwalchmai.

Agwaine said nothing. The appearance of this strange woman had angered him, and he was loath to hand over the great sword-their only real defense against the beast-to a woman.

“How will we fight this beast?” asked Layne.

“How indeed?” she replied, her pale eyes showing sorrow.

“We could make spears,” suggested Gaelen, “by fastening our daggers to poles.”

“Come to that, I could make a bow,” said Gwal. “It wouldn’t be a great weapon, or very accurate. But it might serve at close range.”

“Then do it swiftly,” said the Queen, “and we will talk again.”

The boys rose and spread out nervously into the woods, searching for saplings or stout straight branches. Gaelen and Agwaine selected an infant elm and began to hack at it with their daggers.

“What do you think of her, Lowlander?” Agwaine asked as the sapling snapped.

“I think she is what she says she is,” snapped Gaelen. “And if you call me Lowlander again, you’ll answer for it.”

Agwaine grinned. “I don’t like you, Gaelen, but you are right. Whatever your pedigree, you are now a clansman. But I’ll never call you cousin.”

“I don’t care about that,” Gaelen told him. “You are nothing to me.”

“So be it.”

They stripped the sapling of twigs and leaves and shortened it to a manageable five feet. Then Gaelen unwound the thongs of his right legging and bound his knife to the wood. He hefted it for balance and hurled it at a nearby tree. The spear hammered home with a dull thud. Gaelen tugged it loose and examined the binding; it remained firm.

It seemed a formidable weapon, but he summoned the image of the beast to mind and then the spear seemed puny indeed.

“Were you surprised I found the sword?” Agwaine asked him.

“No, disappointed.”

“That was a good trick with the pack.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t, but it was good anyway.” Gaelen nodded. He waited while Agwaine fashioned his spear, then wandered away; he didn’t enjoy Agwaine’s company and he knew the feeling was reciprocated.

He made his way back to the clearing where the old woman sat. She was deep in thought and Gaelen watched her for some time from the edge of the woods. It was easy to believe she was a queen, for her bearing was proud and confident and she was clearly used to being obeyed. But there was more to her than that: a kind of innate nobility, an inner strength, which shone through.

“Are you going to stand there all day, Gaelen?” she asked without moving her head.

Gaelen stepped forward. “How did you know I was here? And how do you know my name?”

“Let’s leave it at the first question. I heard you. Come and join me for a while, and eat something. To work efficiently the body must be fed.”