Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

Captives

While two men pointed their spears at Drift and Ubi, a third knelt and examined the deer. He touched one of the puncture wounds on its side, got back up, and scanned the meadow and surrounding woods. Then he paced around, studying the dew-damp grass.

He pointed at Drift and Ubi. "Yours be only tracks. You kill't it?"

Drift held up her hands in protest. "Not us," she said. "At least, not really. I mean, unless dreams count. Do dreams count?"

"What she say?" the man asked, turning to the one who Drift assumed was their leader from the way he stood apart and gestured to direct the others' movements.

His eyes narrowed as he glared at Drift. "She lie. She be venator," he said.

"Non nobis!" Ubi objected. "It wasn't us!"

"I thought you didn't know Falconchant," Drift whispered.

"Sorcerers use it," he whispered back. "You can't help picking it up, at least a little."

The leader took a step toward Ubi. "You train with sorcerers?" he demanded.

"No. Non! I'm running from them! We both are. See, we—"

"I no care." He turned and signaled to two of his men, who extracted leather chords from their pockets and lashed their spears to the deer's legs. They hoisted the spears onto their shoulders so that the carcass hung dangling between them, with one man in front and the other behind. At another signal, men forced Drift and Ubi in the direction of the grove of willows and the group headed out single-file.

Drift, speaking to the stiff back of the leader, said, "We're going the other way, Sir. If you'll release us, we'll leave right away."

"You not turn back at marker post. Too late now. You captive be."

*

At the center of the Keep was a heavily built main structure where High Master Vultan maintained his private quarters and housed his most trusted sorcerers and servants. Behind this stone building was a large courtyard of cobbles: round stones pressed neatly into the earth to create a firm if somewhat nobby surface that stood up well to heavy traffic. Wagonloads of supplies rumbled across it, guards marched over it, and sorcerers and apprentices hurried over it on their way to meetings, meals, and practice sessions.

Numerous outbuildings were needed to serve the Keep's growing population. A stone barracks provided a base for the guards, and several long wooden dormitories had been erected to house apprentices. There was also a large dining hall, plus a growing number of smaller stone houses that served as sorcerers' residences. And there was a pen filled with bleating goats taken from farms to satisfy the constant need for roasted meat. Near the pen was a small stone building that smelled strongly of onions. In fact, it was filled with them. Vultan preferred his goats to be stuffed with onions and roasted on a spit over an open fire.

The strangest of the buildings at the Keep stood on the crest of a nearby hill. It was a tall, circular stone tower made of black basalt, with occasional blocks of translucent quartz to allow light to filter in. There was not, however, any sign of a door. In one of the tower's locked rooms, about half way up, Summer was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, thinking about Drift.

She got up, stretched, and walked around her cell, touching the stone walls and examining them for cracks. There were none. She examined the floor and, as best she could, the ceiling. All were made of tightly fitted stone blocks. Her cell was lifeless except for the occasional drip that leaked down into a dirty puddle in the middle of the floor.

Next, she examined the heavy iron door with its massive hinges and even more massive lock. She wasn't skilled in metal magic and doubted she could open it, even after she got her strength back (with the lack of sufficient food, she thought it might take many more days to complete her recovery). However, the iron door was the least of her problems. There was something else holding her in, something that pulsed oddly in the walls. It was, she guessed, some kind of spell, but not one with which she was familiar. There was a darkness to it that troubled her. It seemed to radiate horror and hopelessness. Repelled, she moved away from the walls and sat down cross-legged on a dry patch of floor.