Sparrow's Flight

"Am I clear?"

Finally Spar nodded. "Yes, Sir." He understood his father’s ideals, indeed he shared them, within reason. Justice was a noble goal in an ideal world, but this was not a perfect world. Five years in Duskasker, a barony much more prosperous and powerful than Blackaker, had cleared the cobwebs of ignorance from his head. Only power allowed prosperity. Only obedience insured power. Only strict enforcement of the law ensured obedience. In this flawed world, ideology must bow to expedience.

Blackaker turned to face the poachers.

"Who took this buck?" he asked.

"I did, milord," said Jaco in an unsteady voice. His hands fidgeted, uncontrollably wringing the folds of his smock. "It was my idea, and I did it. Bikk and Ollo here, they didn’t do nothin’. Please don’t hurt ‘em. Milord, our village is starving. These last two weeks ... our last crop and our stores are ruined--" He stopped in mid-blurt, staring off into space. "It’s horrible, milord."

"What’s horrible?" said Blackaker, his brows beetling.

The peasant quivered. "Milord, please, whatever you do t’ me, please help my village. I ... It’s horrible. We tried to stop it, but we can’t. It’s already killed four people ... most of our stock."

Blackaker’s expression darkened another notch, and his voice rumbled angrily from his chest. "What has killed four people?"

"A thing, sir. I fear ... I fear ..."

"Spit it out," Spar said.

"An abomination!"

Silence engulfed the gathering. Jaco glanced furtively over his shoulder, as if speaking the word could summon an abomination. The huntsmen looked around nervously, fiddling with their spears.

Spar scowled. Abominations were creatures of foul magic, the bane of all living things. Existing only from dusk to dawn glow, no two were alike, but all were powerful, possessed of incarnate powers of hate and fear. He had no doubt the man would lie to save his hide, but a superstitious peasant would never make up such a story as this. Whatever the truth, Jaco believed what he said.

Blackaker leaned towards Jaco. "You are sure?"

Jaco nodded slowly. Blackaker looked over his shoulder at Beastmaster Wouda, a paunchy, friendly, unassuming man, who was the family’s most faithful retainer.

Wouda returned his look with worry. "It could be another abomination, Master, though I fear such an omen." Perched on his shoulder, Yistra, his rust-and-orange-colored dawn falcon, screeched in agreement.

Spar looked wide-eyed at Wouda. "Another one? When was there a first one?"

"Two months ago," Blackaker said. "I prayed then to never see another in my lands." Then he addressed Jaco, "Has Sir Etkhin been informed? This is his county."

"Please, sir, we tried, but his keep is two days’ walk, and farther than a man can run from dawn to dusk. The people we sent-- It brought back their bodies. We had to burn them."

Blackaker nodded solemnly. "Have you ever seen it?"

Jaco shook his head. "None have seen it and lived. It howls, milord, a sound from the grave."

"Does it come at any particular time?"

"Always after midnight, lord. Sometime it doesn’ come, and sometime it doesn’ howl, and all we see are tracks."

Suddenly Jaco’s eyes glimmered. "The tracks! I can show ‘em t’ you. We were trackin’ it when we found the deer."

Blackaker’s fist opened and closed, knuckles popping like thick sticks breaking. "If there is another abomination in my lands, it must die. Wouda and I will take these three and the hunting party to track the beast. Sparrow, you take Grem and Kujl to the village." He indicated two of the four men-at-arms who were his guard away from the keep. "Guard it. They are your people, too."

Spar’s face hardened. "Father, you should go back to Saeldin. Let me handle this."