Flight of the Nighthawks Read online

  Caleb held deep affection for the elves and their magical home in Elvandar, and he could speak their language well. But it was in Stardock that he had learned his first lessons about ordinary life.

  He made his way through the bustling town square. If previous festivals were any indication, the boys would now be with the other youngsters near the fountain.

  He acknowledged greetings from many of those he passed, for they were the same children he had played with thirty years earlier.

  Some of the men had grown stout and others had gray in their hair—if they still had hair. The women whom he had known as girls had matured, and those who hadn’t got fat had the gaunt, lean look of too much hard work and not enough rest. A few, like Marie, had kept their looks despite the rigors of parenthood and farming.

  But today they all looked reasonably happy, for it was the harvest festival, and if what adorned the table was any indication, it had been a bountiful year. Grain wagons would creak up the roads toward the Bitter Sea and barges would make their way from the Great Star Lake downriver to the Sea of Dreams and the trading docks at Shamata or Landreth. Cattle in the field were fat for the winter and the sheep looked healthy as their new wool grew in for the colder season. Everywhere he looked, Caleb saw signs of bounty: barrels of freshly picked apples, baskets of berries, cherries, and figs, all manner of vegetable, and at every farm he had passed, he had seen more chickens and pigs than he could imagine.

  He remembered other years when the harvest had been poor, or the times after the troll raids, and he acknowledged silently to himself that these people were entitled to a little celebration of their good fortune. Winters were mild in the Vale of Dreams, snow having fallen only once in fifty years, and already farmers were planting winter crops that would grow nowhere else. By the time the autumn traders returned from the Kingdom and Great Kesh, with wagons of tools 2 0

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  and other necessary items, the second crop would be ready to feed the demand for fresh food in the frozen north. Compared to most farming communities, Stardock was wealthy, but even here a farmer’s lot was not an easy one. Caleb pushed his musings aside as he turned the corner and spotted the boys. He had taken only one step before he realized trouble was about to erupt.

  Ellie stood up and said, “If you two don’t stop this right now, I’m leaving.”

  The two to whom she referred were Tad and Zane, who stood confronting one another, ready to resume the brawling. The lithe girl positioned herself between them and started pushing them apart with surprising determination. This caused both boys to hesitate and gave Caleb just enough time to reach them and ask, “What is the problem?”

  Both boys glanced at Caleb, then locked gazes again. Ellie gave them a final shove. She said, “These idiots have decided that it’s important which one of them has the first dance with me.”

  “You promised me!” shouted Tad, only a half second before Zane echoed the claim.

  Caleb lost his smile. The musicians had gathered near the ale casks and were tuning their instruments. In a moment they’d start playing, and the boys would start fighting. “Your mother asked me to keep an eye on you.” Both boys regarded him, Zane’s expression only slightly more belligerent than Tad’s.

  “It seems there was good cause,” Caleb added. He reached into his belt purse, fished out a large copper coin, and showed it to the two boys. “This is the head and this is the tail. Heads is Tad, tails is Zane.”

  Tossing the coin into the air, he let it fall to the ground. The boys followed its descent closely.

  It landed on tails and Zane shouted triumphantly, “I get the fi rst dance!” just as the musicians struck the first notes of the dance.

  Tad started to complain, but thought better of it as he noticed the dark expression on Zane’s face. Caleb had led Ellie out among the dancers and shouted back at them, “Winner gets the second dance!”

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  Ellie laughed as Caleb escorted her through the steps of a traditional farmer’s reel. Even those not dancing were clapping their hands. When it came time for him to take Ellie’s hands and lead her in a series of turns, she said, “That was quick thinking, Caleb.”

  “They’re getting as bad as two young bucks with green horns.

  What are you going to do?”

  She lowered her voice a little and said, “I’m going to marry Grame.”

  “That’ll start a dustup,” said Caleb with a laugh. “Still, you can’t very well marry both of them.”

  “I wouldn’t marry either,” said Ellie. “They’re like brothers to me.”

  As he moved behind her, placing his hands on her waist and then following her steps, he said, “They obviously don’t think of you as a sister.”

  “Oh, they would if there were more girls around,” she said, turning to face him before standing still as he bowed before her, ending the dance. She slipped her arm through his and said, “It’s just not fair, the other girls are already spoken for, or too young.”

  Caleb knew what she was thinking. Many children their age had been killed during the last troll raid. There was still ill feeling from the parents of those lost children toward the magicians for not acting sooner. Caleb had been up in the Eastern Kingdoms, working on behalf of the Conclave at the time of the raid. It had occurred nine years ago, when Ellie, Zane, and Tad had been little more than babies.

  Caleb walked Ellie back to the boys slowly, reaching them just as the second song commenced. He planted a strong hand in the middle of Tad’s chest as the blond boy began to protest again, and said, “Son, don’t spoil a perfectly fine festival. You’ll get your turn.”

  Tad seemed ready to argue, but seeing Caleb’s serious expression, he simply let out a slight sigh and nodded. “Yes, Caleb.”

  Caleb was glad it was Zane who had won, for he was the more hot - tempered of the two and would possibly have ignored Caleb and forced him to do something the older man didn’t want to do: stop him physically.

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  He studied Tad while Ellie and Zane danced, and watched the boy seethe. Ellie was right; they were acting contrary to their nature.

  When the song was over, Ellie returned and it was Tad’s turn to dance. As he had before, Caleb watched the boy not dancing with Ellie. Zane could barely contain his jealousy.

  When the third song had ended, Caleb said, “I’m in the mood for something to drink, why don’t you three come along?”

  Ellie readily agreed for all of them, and slipped her arm through Caleb’s, leaving the boys to follow. They went to the table where four men were fi lling flagons of ale and then passing them out as fast as possible. Ellie declined the strong drink, instead accepting Zane’s offer to fetch her a fruit - scented water. Tad volunteered to bring her something to eat, and she declined until she saw him wilt, so said,

  “Perhaps something light, until we all sit down to eat?”

  He ran off, and Caleb sighed. “What are we going to do with those two?”

  “I don’t know, but something. They sit around all day with little to do. They’re not the sort to take to strong drink . . . yet.”

  Caleb understood. Stardock Town was big enough to support a fair amount of commerce and a little bit of industry—an ironmonger had opened a shop the year before, working ore brought down from the foothills—but most of the work was done by family members.

  There were always more men than work to be done, and without fathers to teach them a craft, Tad and Zane were growing up without skills. They were becoming wild and feckless.

  He knew them both to be bright, able young men, but without a direction to their lives, they were in danger of becoming lost. More than one younger son had ended up as a bandit, or working hand to mouth in the city.

  Caleb was pondering the matter when Marie reappeared. He nodded to her and moved away from where Zane was anxiously awaiting Ellie’s favor. He kept his voice low so that
the boy couldn’t overhear, and said to Marie, “I mistook your meaning before. I thought you meant that you were worried about the boys today. I see what you mean now.”

  She studied his face, then said, “Do you?”

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  He nodded. “Let’s keep an eye on them for now and try to have some fun. We’ll speak of this later tonight.”

  She nodded, then forced a smile. “Dance?”

  He took her by the hand and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

  They danced to several tunes then fell upon the heavily laden tables. After filling their platters with food, they found a quiet corner on the steps of a shop closed for the festival. Caleb set down the platters and left Marie for a moment to fetch two flagons of ale. When he returned, she said, “Where are the boys?”

  “Over there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the other side of the town square. “I’ve not let them out of my sight.”

  “How do you do that?”

  He smiled. “I’m a hunter. Besides, they’re hard to miss.”

  She nodded, and spoke with a mouth full of food. “I know, just look for the trouble.”

  He laughed. “No, just those two tunics.”

  They ate quietly, with little conversation, and for the next hour the festivities continued uneventfully. Then a stout man mounted one of the wagons being used to dispense ale and started shouting, “My friends!”

  Marie said, “Here comes trouble.”

  Caleb said, “Yup,” and put aside his plate to move toward the wagon. Marie followed.

  The man was Miller Hodover, and standing next to him was a young man, roughly twenty years old. The resemblance was obvious, though the man had run to fat years ago and the boy was young and fit, his shoulders still broader than his belt.

  Grame Hodover was a sturdy lad, thoughtful and bright, and it was often thought a miracle that his parents could have produced such a well - liked young man.

  Caleb made straight for Tad and Zane, who were standing on either side of Ellie. She looked at Caleb with relief in her eyes—she knew what was coming next.

  “My friends,” repeated Miller Hodover, “I have an announcement to make. Today, I am a very happy man.” He positively beamed as he looked around the crowd.

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  One of the townsmen—under the influence of too much ale—shouted, “Why, you raising prices again, Miller?”

  There was a ripple of laughter, and Hodover looked irked for a moment, but let his smile return. “No, Bram Connor, I’m not . . . yet.”

  Another round of laughter followed his retort and everyone relaxed as they realized that the miller was in a particularly good mood.

  His well - known parsimony and love of gold were constant subjects of ridicule.

  “No, my friends,” said the miller. “I have an announcement to make. This day, after one of the most bountiful harvests in memory, at a time when everyone seems to be doing so well, I wish to add to the joy of the moment by sharing wonderful news with you all.”

  “Out with it, then,” shouted another voice from the crowd.

  “You’re making me thirsty!”

  Throwing the speaker a black look, the miller smiled again. “I would like you all to know that this year my son, Grame, will be wed to Ellie Rankin.”

  He motioned to where Ellie stood between two boys, who looked as if they had just been poleaxed. Zane stood with a furrowed brow, as if he couldn’t quite understand what had just been said, and Tad stood openmouthed, obviously unwilling to believe it.

  Ellie was halfway to the wagon when the boys started after her.

  Caleb reached out and grabbed each by their collar and hauled them back. “Don’t go making a fuss now,” he said in a low, menacing tone.

  Tad threw him an angry look and Zane drew back his fi st, but Caleb merely pulled upward, lifting the boys onto their toes. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Zane reconsidered, and let his hand fall to his side. Marie said, “If you stoneheads really care about Ellie, you’ll be happy for her. Now, the first one to start a fight will have to answer to me. Is that clear?”

  Both lads said, “Yes, Ma,” nodded, and Caleb let them go.

  The townsfolk had gathered to congratulate the engaged couple, while Tad and Zane continued to pout. Caleb indicated that Marie should join the throng, and said, “Come with me, boys. I’ve got something special for an occasion such as this.”

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  The boys looked like they were about to argue, but one glance from their mother caused them to nod and follow Caleb obediently.

  He led them to a wagon behind the one that had carried the ale casks. Night was fast approaching and the festival was becoming more raucous. One of the teamsters sat on a buckboard, watching the town bestow its best wishes on the newly betrothed. The man was not a local, so he felt no need to join in, and remained contented with eating and drinking ale.

  “Thomas,” said Caleb, greeting him.

  “Evening,” said the wagoneer.

  “You have that box up there?”

  “It’s under that tarp, Caleb.”

  Caleb found the box and pulled it toward the rear of the wagon.

  Drawing out his large hunting knife, he used the stout blade to pry open the lid, exposing a dozen bottles of amber liquid. He picked one out and held it up to the lantern light.

  “What is it?” asked Tad.

  “Something I discovered on my travels down in Kinnoch County.”

  “Looks like brandy,” said Zane. “The color, I mean.”

  “Not brandy, but you’ve a good eye.” Caleb turned, and sat on the back of the wagon, letting his feet dangle. “Brandy’s just boiled wine, this is something else.

  “In Kinnoch they have a way to distill a mash of grain, slowly cooking it over fires fed by peat, and then the brew is aged in casks.

  When it’s made badly, it can peel the paint off a warship’s hull, but when it’s made well—” He bit the cork and pulled it out.

  With his free hand he felt around in the box and produced a small cup of glass. “You can’t drink this out of clay or metal, boys. It’ll foul the taste.”

  “What is it?” asked Tad.

  “They call it whiskey,” said Caleb, filling the small glass to the top.

  “That’s not very much.” Zane’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the tiny vessel which held no more than two or three ounces of liquid.

  “A little is more than enough,” said Caleb, tipping the contents of the glass into his mouth and swallowing. “Ah,” he said. “You try it.”

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  He produced another glass and filled them both. “You can learn to sip this later, boys. Just toss it back and swallow for now.”

  The boys did as instructed, and an instant later both were coughing furiously, with their eyes watering. Zane said in a hoarse voice,

  “Damn me, Caleb, are you trying to poison us?”

  “It takes a little getting used to, Zane, but you’ll grow to love it.”

  “It burns like a hot coal,” said Tad, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic.

  “Give it a minute,” said Caleb. “It’ll warm your gut.”

  Zane smacked his lips. “Not that I think it’s good, but let me try another.”

  Caleb poured again and the boys drank. This time there was no coughing, but their eyes continued to water.

  “I think I’ll stick to ale,” said Tad.

  “I don’t know,” said Zane. “There’s something about it I rather like.”

  “You’re a young man of promise, Zane Caffrey,” said Caleb.

  Laughing, Tad said, “Whoa. I can feel it going to my head!”

  “The Kinnoch men say it ‘has a kick,’ and they know of what they speak.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” said Tad, indicating the other cases.
<
br />   “I’m taking it to my father, as a gift. There’s not a lot that’s new to him, so I thought he might enjoy this.”

  “Why are you giving us this?” asked Tad. “I mean, thank you, but why?”

  “To take your mind off an imagined slight,” said Caleb. “If I let you drink alone two things would happen.” He held up a fi nger, while he poured them another drink. “Firstly, you’d receive no end of teasing from the other men in town who know how you’ve been butting heads over Ellie for nearly a year. Secondly, you’d just pick a fight with Grame.”

  The boys quickly drank the whiskey and seemed to be getting used to it. Caleb filled their glasses again. “Here, have another.”

  The boys finished their fourth drink, and Tad’s eyes began to close. “You’re getting us drunk. I can feel it.”

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  Caleb filled the glasses yet again and said, “One more should do it.”

  Zane asked, “Do what?” as his speech began to slur.

  Caleb jumped down from the wagon bed. “Get you too drunk to pick a fight.” He pushed Tad, who wobbled as he tried to compensate for being slightly off balance.

  “Come along,” said Caleb.

  “Where?” asked Zane.

  “Back to your ma’s, and into your beds. You’re going to pass out in five minutes and I don’t want to carry you.”

  The boys had never drunk anything as potent as the whiskey before, and they followed Caleb quietly. By the time they had reached their home, both boys were unsteady on their feet.

  Caleb ushered them inside and when he had seen them onto their sleeping mats, he left and returned to the festival. It took only a few minutes to find Marie, and when she saw him, she said, “What did you do with them?”

  “Got them very drunk.”

  “As if they needed any help doing that.” She looked around anxiously. “Where are they?”