Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [50]
He stayed upon the hill, watching the loading, for the remainder of the day. A steady stream of men carried the supplies to the beached longships. The horses of the Bloodriders were divided among ten ships, and these vessels would sail at the head of Grunnarch’s fleet. The rest of the vessels, some hundred and fifty strong, carried the vast bulk of his army. By late afternoon, the preparations had been completed, and Grunnarch rode slowly down to the docks. Thelgaar would hold a final council with the kings of the northmen that night, Grunnarch felt certain. Before dawn the following day, the fleets would ride the outgoing tide from Iron Bay, hoist sails, and begin the journey to war.
*****
“Wake up, Tristan! Please! It’s important!”
Dimly, he shifted from his dream to real life. He realized that Robyn stood over him, holding a slim candle. She prodded his chest again, and he blinked.
“What is it?” he mumbled, waking enough to sit up in bed. He saw darkness through his window. Robyn stood beside him in a flowing nightgown of white. The cloth made a stark contrast against her black hair, and the prince thought, absently, that she looked alluring. Very alluring.
“Come with me!” Her voice was urgent. “Something’s happening here tonight. I don’t know what it is!”
Before Tristan had climbed from his bed, she left the room and stood impatiently in the hall. He started to follow her, but she gestured toward his weapon, draped over a chair.
“Bring your sword!”
Without questioning, he strapped the weapon around his waist. As he stepped into the hall, Robyn was disappearing around the corner, so he hurried to catch up.
“What is it?” he whispered, but she did not answer. Instead, she turned into another hall, walking as fast as the flickering candle would allow. In a moment, she stopped before a heavy door and quickly pulled it open.
Inside spiralled the long stairway leading to the platform atop Caer Corwell’s high tower. Breathlessly, the pair climbed the stairs, emerging minutes later through the trap door at the top.
The cloudless night sky spread above and around them, sparkling with a wealth of stars. The night air was cool. The moon had not yet risen, so the prince guessed the time at about two o’clock. Robyn extinguished the candle and moved to the parapet, gazing intently into the eastern sky. Nervously drawing his sword, the prince stepped to her side.
“What is it? Should we sound the alarm? Why did you bring me up here in the middle of the night?” The tone of each question grew sharper as the prince’s anxiety mounted.
“Please be quiet!” Robyn whispered, and the prince saw that she was concentrating deeply, still staring at the sky.
Puzzled, and a little annoyed, Tristan nonetheless did as she asked. He too stared eastward, and for long moments neither made any sound. Suddenly, Robyn spoke a single word.
“There!”
Following her pointing finger, the prince could see nothing against the starry backdrop. Then, for an instant, a star blinked out, and then on again. Several times this happened, and the prince realized that a flying creature approached. At the same time, he felt Robyn sway slightly and lean against the parapet for support.
“You can put that away,” she said finally, gesturing to his sword. “The danger I sensed is distant, and will not menace us tonight.”
This time Tristan ignored her, holding the blade ready and squinting to make out the mysterious creature in the sky. In moments he heard the faint whirr of feathery wings, and suddenly the inky form of a huge falcon settled to the parapet before Robyn.
The prince recognized Sable, but stifled his announcement as he watched the young