“Too much to supply a flying column.” Simon frowned, his mind snapping back to the business at hand. “It would seem that Yvian hopes to make a central post somewhere hereabouts and base his foray parties there. He may be planning to move a large force borderwards.”
“I do not understand it,” Ingvald said slowly. “Why did this all blow up so suddenly out of nothing? We are not—were not—blood brothers of the coastwise people. They drove us inland when they came from the sea. But for ten generations we have been at peace with them, each going our way and not troubling the other. We of the old race are not inclined to war and there was no reason for this sudden attack upon us. Yet when it came it moved in such a way as we may only believe that it had long been planned.”
“But, not, perhaps, by Yvian.” Simon set his horse to a trot matched by Ingvald’s mount so they rode knee to knee. “I want a prisoner, Ingvald, a prisoner of such a one as has been amusing himself in those ways we saw in the farm meadow of the fork roads!”
A spark gleamed deep in the dark eyes meeting his. “If such a one is ever taken. Captain, he shall be brought to you.”
“Alive and able to talk!” Simon cautioned.
“Alive and able to speak,” agreed the other. “For it is in our minds too, that things can be learned from one of that sort. Only never do we find them, only their handiwork. And I think that that is left deliberately as a threat and a warning.”
“There is a puzzle in this,” Simon was thinking aloud, playing once more with his ever-present problem. “It would seem that someone believes we can be beaten into submission by brutality. And that someone or something does not understand that a man can be fired to just the opposite by those methods. Or,” he added after a moment’s pause, “could this be done deliberately to goad us into turning our full fury against Yvian and Karsten, to get the border aflame and all Estcarp engaged there, then to strike elsewhere?”
“Perhaps a little of both,” Ingvald suggested. “I know, Captain, that you have been seeking for another presence in the Karsten forces, and I have heard of what was found at Sulcarkeep and the rumors of man-selling to Gorm. We are safe in this much: no one who is not truly human can come among us without our knowledge—just as we have always known that you are not of our world.”
Simon started, but turned to see the other smiling quietly. “Yes, Outlander, your tale spread—but after we knew you were not of us—though in some strange way your own akin to our blood. No, the Kolder cannot sneak into our councils so easily. Nor can the enemy venture among the Falconers, for the hawks would betray them.”
Simon was caught by that. “How so?”
“A bird or an animal can sense that kind of alien quicker than even one who has the Power. And those like now to the men of Gorm would find both bird and beast against them. So the Hawks of the Eyrie serve their trainers doubly and make safe the mountains.”
But before the day was behind them Simon was to leam that that vaunted safety of the mountains was only as strong as those frail bird bodies. They were examining the supplies looted from the train and Simon set aside a portion intended for the Eyrie, when he heard the hail of a camp sentry and the answer of a Falconer. Welcoming the chance to let the latter transport the hawkmen’s share and so save his men a trip, Simon came forward eagerly.
The rider had not followed custom. His bird-head helm was closed as if he rode among strangers. It was not that alone which stopped Simon before he gave greeting. The men of his band were alert, drawing in a circle. Simon felt it, too, that prickle of awaking surmise, just as he had known it before.
Without stopping to reason, he hurled himself at the silent rider and his hands caught at the other’s weapon belt. Simon knew fleeting wonder that the hawk perched on the saddle horn did not rouse as he attacked its master. His lunge caught the Falconer by surprise and the fellow had no time to draw his arms. But he made a quick recovery, slumping his whole weight on Simon, bearing him under him to the ground, where mailed gloved hands tore for Tregarth’s throat.
It was like tangling with a steel-muscled, iron-fleshed thing, and within seconds Simon knew that he had attempted the impossible—what was encased in the Falconer’s covering could not be subdued with bare hands. Only he was not alone; other hands plucked that fighter off him, held the man pinned to the ground, though the stranger struggled wildly.
Simon, rubbing his scratched throat, got to his knees. “Unhelm!” He gasped the order, and Ingvald worked at the helm straps, jerking them free at last.
They gathered around the men who held the captive down, for his struggles did not stop. The Falconers were an inbred race with a dominate physical type—reddish hair and brown-yellow eyes like their feathered servants. By his looks this was a true man of the breed. Yet Simon and every man in that clearing knew that what they held was no normal member of the mountain country.
“Rope him tight!” Simon ordered. “I think, Ingvald, we have found what we have been wishing for.” He went over to the horse which had carried the pseudo-hawkman into their camp. The animal’s hide glistened with sweat, threads of foam spun at the bit hooks; it might have been ridden in a grueling race. And its eyes were wild, showing rims of white. But when Simon reached for the reins it did not try to escape, standing with a drooping head as great shudders moved its sweat-soaked skin.
The hawk had remained quiet, no flap of wings or hissing beak to warn Simon off. He reached up and plucked the bird from its perch, and the minute his fingers closed upon that body he knew he did not hold a living creature.
With it in his hand he turned to his lieutenant. “Ingvald, send Lathor, Kara,” he named the two most accomplished scouts in his command. “Let them ride to the Eyrie. We must know how far the rot has spread. If they find no damage done there, let them give warning. For proof of their tale,” he stooped to pick up the bird helm of their prisoner, “let them take this. I believe it is of Falconer making, yet,” he walked over to the bound man, still silent, still watching them with eyes of mad hate,”I cannot quite believe that this is one of them.”
“We do not take him also?” asked Kam, “or the bird?”
“No, we open no doors which are not already breached. We need safe disposal for this one for a space.”
“The cave by the waterfall, Captain.” Waldis, a boy of Ingvald’s homestead who had tracked his master to the mountains, spoke up. “One sentry at the entrance can keep it safe and none know of it save us.”
“Good enough. You will see to it, Ingvald.”
“And you, Captain?”
“I am going to backtrail this one. It may be that he did ride from the Eyrie. If that is true, the sooner we know the worst the better.”
“I do not think so. Captain. At least if he did, it was not by any straight trail. We are well to the westward of the hold. And he entered from the path leading to the sea. Santu,” he spoke to one who had helped to rope the prisoner, “do you go and take outpost on this trail and send in Caluf who first challenged him.”
Simon threw the saddle on his own horse, and added a bag with rations. On top he thrust in the dummy falcon. Whether this was one of the counterfeit flying things, he could not tell as yet, but it was the first intact one they had. He finished just as Caluf ran in.
“You are sure he came from the west?” Simon pressed the question.
“I will swear it on the Stone of Engis if you wish, Captain. The hawkmen do not care greatly for the sea, though they serve the traders at times as marines. And I did not know they patrolled the shore cliffs. But he rode straight between those notched rocks which give upon the way to the cove we mapped five days ago, and he moved as one who knew the trail well.”
Simon was more than a little disturbed. The cove of their recent discovery had been a ray of hope for the establishment of better communication with the north. It was not endangered by reefs and shoals such as fanged too much of the coastline and Simon had planned for the use of small vessels to harbor there, transporting north refugees, and returning with supplies and arms for the border fighters. If that cove was in enemy hands he wanted to know it, and at once.