Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

In The Moment

The apprentices, having eaten everything they could find in the Palace, turned their backs on the large mound of dirty dishes and trickled outside to the lawn, where Atratus lined them up in columns. "I've set a beacon near the witch's cottage," he commanded. "Start there, and—"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

He paused, eyeing the apprentice who had interrupted him. He was a first-year. "What?"

"I don't know what—"

"A beacon is a ball of goatskin wrapped around an oiled parchment scribed with emanation runes which in turn is wrapped around a lump of sulfur spelled to stay warm and emit vapors."

"But—"

"But you don't need to know that, because you will not be advancing in your studies. Get out of my sight! The rest of you, follow the scent of the beacon to get past the wardspells around the witch's cottage. Search for clues there, then scan the entire valley, all the way down to the estuary if necessary. When you reach the ocean, check to see if they got washed onto some sandbar, and if not, then turn and fly back up the river, checking everything all over again. Go over The Garden to see if they've taken refuge there, but keep your distance and send for me if you see them inside. The defenses are up and you won't be able to enter, so don't break a wing trying. If they aren't there, fan your flock wide and scan the forest on both sides of the river."

"Um, excuse me, sir, but what should we do if we find them," another apprentice asked. "I mean, outside of The Garden, Sir?"

"Contact me at once by sending," Atratus said. "And while you wait for me, attack them as viciously as you can. These renegades have been lucky so far. I want their luck to turn. Are there any other questions?"

*

Far to the north, in a steeply sloping pasture in the mountains, Nighthawk stood staring at the stretched hide of a lion. It was suspended between two poles and scraped to a clean leather finish on one side. The other side was covered with tawny lion fur. She felt the fur. "Perfect for a winter vest and boots," she said.

One of the mountain goats responded with a skeptical "baaa."

Nighthawk smiled as she walked around the stretched hide. "What an amazing view!" she said to herself. Two mountains rose on either side, creating a V-shaped opening through which she could look down toward Eagle's Rest, the stone castle she called home. It seemed very small from up there. A thin curl of smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, telling Nighthawk that her mother was at work. She frowned. Her mother would be very angry. But it was still early in the morning, and she didn't need to worry about that yet. She had plenty of time to explore. She would face her mother at dinner time, not before.

She noticed movement in the forest and whispered a chant for calmness as she engaged her Spirit-sight. Her vision clarified and sharpened. She spotted a bushy brown tail between two tree trunks, moving fast. A bright eye reflected the sunlight before disappearing behind a tree. A brown patch of fur appeared for an instant between that tree and the next. An animal leapt onto a boulder and stopped to examine her briefly, then turned and jumped out of sight, disappearing into the forest again.

Nighthawk felt her stomach muscles relax. It had not been a lion or anything large enough to trouble her. It was something smaller; a lithe brown creature with an inquisitive stare and a long, bushy tail.

"There, there," she said to the goats, "it wasn't as bad as we thought. Probably just a curious martin. You can go back to grazing now." But the goats continued to mill around in a nervous group in the center of the pasture. "What?" she asked, puzzled by their behavior. "Is something else out there, too?"