07-05-2008, 01:43 PM
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Table by Tammi!
Set in Halcyon Mountain.
Mab’s instructions had been very simple. He had been the last to leave, the only one who had understood his birthright and what the stone walls of the castle had meant. For well over a year and a half he had lived with his aunt and uncle, and learned the truth of his family, the ways of European society. They had presented him as their nephew, and trained him in their ways—all those things he would need to survive should the worst come to pass. These things were varied, of course, as had been his lessons; France and England had been two very different worlds, both of which he had adapted to with remarkable ease. Do you remember Peter the Great? she had asked him. He had, and he had failed to understand what she meant. Only when she had explained did he realize—a year traveling under an assumed name, seeing the world with open eyes.
That was what had brought him across the ocean. He was supposed to see where his family had come from, see the things that had made them into what they had become. The captain had let him work his way over the sea, and from there pointed him north. So alone, save for the lanneret that was following him high above. Falconry had been a part of his training, of which he had only minor difficulties. Of course, it had been worth it, especially in times like these—the bird let out a cry, signaling something was wrong. Draco quickened his pace, but it did not take long for him to understand.
The land was scorched, as if the very fire of heaven had come down and taken it whole. The ruddy red-brown male made his way along the ruins, taking in the sight and trying to decipher what it meant. What had happened? This didn’t make any sense—there was no reason a fire would have a chance to spread this wide. The rain had begun doing its work, and the ash was completely gone. In its wake he saw scattered bones, though he did not touch them. Another cry from above signaled a direction, and the blue-eyed boy followed it.
Two hours later, he was on the rise of a mountain, sitting atop a large stone and studying a strange new land. He could see movement, however brief it was, and the scents told him what he needed to know. One hand dropped to the ragged cargo shorts and dug through a pocket, drawing tobacco and flame. He lit up and the falcon came down to earth, explaining in the low tongue what he had seen—four packs, one made up of coyotes. The wolf nodded, and the bird remained at his side, content to rest for the time. Draco sighed and pushed his hair from his face with one hand. This would certainly be an adventure.
That was what had brought him across the ocean. He was supposed to see where his family had come from, see the things that had made them into what they had become. The captain had let him work his way over the sea, and from there pointed him north. So alone, save for the lanneret that was following him high above. Falconry had been a part of his training, of which he had only minor difficulties. Of course, it had been worth it, especially in times like these—the bird let out a cry, signaling something was wrong. Draco quickened his pace, but it did not take long for him to understand.
The land was scorched, as if the very fire of heaven had come down and taken it whole. The ruddy red-brown male made his way along the ruins, taking in the sight and trying to decipher what it meant. What had happened? This didn’t make any sense—there was no reason a fire would have a chance to spread this wide. The rain had begun doing its work, and the ash was completely gone. In its wake he saw scattered bones, though he did not touch them. Another cry from above signaled a direction, and the blue-eyed boy followed it.
Two hours later, he was on the rise of a mountain, sitting atop a large stone and studying a strange new land. He could see movement, however brief it was, and the scents told him what he needed to know. One hand dropped to the ragged cargo shorts and dug through a pocket, drawing tobacco and flame. He lit up and the falcon came down to earth, explaining in the low tongue what he had seen—four packs, one made up of coyotes. The wolf nodded, and the bird remained at his side, content to rest for the time. Draco sighed and pushed his hair from his face with one hand. This would certainly be an adventure.