Raymond Feist - Talon of the Silver Hawk

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.

After stinging his mouth with the hot liquid, Talon asked, ‘What is this place?’

‘Kendrick’s? It’s an … inn, buried somewhere in the forests of Latagore.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what? Why are we here, or why are you alive?’

‘Both, I suppose,’ said Talon.

‘The second, first,’ answered Pasko, as he sat down on the little stool and hefted his own mug of broth. ‘We found you amidst carnage unlike any I’ve seen since my youth – when I was a soldier in the service of the Duke of Dungarren, down in Far Loren. We’d have left you for crow bait with the others, save I heard you moan … well, wasn’t even a proper moan, more like a loud sigh. It was only by the hand of fate you survived. You had so much blood on you and such a jagged wound across your chest, we both took you for dead to start with. Anyway, you were breathing, so my master said to fetch you along. He’s a soft-hearted sort, I can tell you.’

‘I should thank him,’ said Talon, though he felt so miserable for being alive while the rest of his family had perished that he didn’t feel remotely thankful.

‘I suspect he’ll find a way for you to repay him,’ said Pasko. He stood up. ‘Feel like stretching your legs?’

Talon nodded. He started to rise and found that his head swam and his body ached. He had no strength.

‘Gently, my lad,’ said Pasko, hurrying to give Talon a helping hand. ‘You’re weaker than a day-old kitten. You’ll need more rest, and food, before you’re close to being fit, but right now you need to move around a bit.’

Pasko helped Talon to the door of the barn and they went outside. It was a crisp morning, and Talon could tell they were in a lowland valley. The air smelled and felt different from the air in his highland meadows. Talon’s legs were shaky and he was forced to take small steps. Pasko stopped and let the boy take in his surroundings.

They were in a large stabling yard, surrounded by a high wall of fitted stones. The boy instantly recognized the construction as a fortification by its design, for stone steps flush with the walls rose up at several locations a short distance from the large building which he took to be the inn. The top of the wall had crenels and merlons, and a walkway broad enough for two men to pass one another as they defended the grounds.

The inn was as large a building as Talon had ever seen, dwarfing the round house and long house of his village. It rose three storeys into the air, and the roof was covered with stone tiles rather than thatch or wood. It was painted white, with wooden trim around the doors and windows, the shutters and doors having been painted a cheery green. Several chimneys belched grey smoke into the sky.