into his blood. For a long moment, he stared at his brother, waiting for him to comply.
Hyden felt the command come into his mind, a subtle suggestion that made him want to move away from where he was and walk alone for a while. He didn’t do it. Just as suddenly as the idea had formed, it had drifted away, and just as suddenly, the tiny hawkling nestled in the bucket he was carrying screeched out. Hyden didn’t take his eyes off Gerard’s. He watched his little brother’s eyes widen with panic as he realized that Hyden knew what he had just attempted. Gerard sighed and slumped his shoulders. Hyden wasn’t sure if it was a slump of disappointment, or a slump of shame. He decided he was so angry at being commanded like that, it didn’t matter.
“Don’t you ever use your magic on me!” Hyden said, through clenched teeth. “Ever!” Then he stormed off and busied himself feeding the ever hungry hawkling chick.
Gerard was left speechless. He was at a loss. He knew by the way that the magic had dissipated away from him, instead of gathering around Hyden that his brother wasn’t going to obey his mental suggestion. It put a strange feeling in his guts. He began to wonder if the ring had actually been meant for him. For a fleeting moment he was certain that it had been meant for Hyden to find. It was his now though, and he wasn’t about to let Hyden have it. No one would get it from him. Reflexively, he covered the ring with his hand and made for the other side of the procession.
Just after midday, the forest began to thin. There were still trees about, in small clumps of twos and threes, with the occasional copse here and there, but they were no longer in what you could call a forest. Soon, they would angle northward and start down into the gradually sloping valley that the giants called the Leif Greyn. Berda had told them it meant “Life Giver.” Hyden had always wondered if Leif Greyn was the name of the huge river that flowed out of the Giant Mountains, or the name of the lush valley that embraced it. He wanted to ask the giantess, Berda, that very question, but he could never remember to ask it when she was in the clan village visiting.
Berda was the wife of a herdsman, and the very best of storytellers. She loved to tell tales that showed the young clans folk the ways of nature and life. She was old and wise, as well as huge, and Hyden loved her dearly. Hyden couldn’t wait to show her the hawkling. She would have a tale for the occasion, he knew. She knew everything, and she had a way of teaching through her stories that was very effective. Those who listened learned much as she narrated her captivating tales. Most of the people in the kingdom lands thought of the giants, and the mountain clansmen, as barbaric and primitive savages, but they were wrong. In many cases, the mountain folk were far more intelligent. She had told him this repeatedly, and he smiled outwardly wondering what wisdom she would have to offer about his little bird.
The mood of the rest of the clan began to lighten as they made camp for the night. The morrow would bring many smiles, and a few tears, when the group were reunited with their wives and children under the towering black monolith that marked the festival grounds. The actual festival wouldn’t officially begin for a few days yet, but for the Skyler Clan, it would start as soon as the men met up with their families under the Spire.
Hyden sat by himself with the nest bucket in his lap. He had just finished feeding the chick and was using the last of the daylight to look at how much it had grown in the last few days. Its feathers were coming in now, and its beak was turning from a soft, gray triangle, into a longer, sharper thing. Its eyes were still filmed over, but Hyden could tell that very soon they would clear, and the little hawkling would be able to see the world around it. It was walking around the nest now without wobbling or stumbling, and every now and then it
Hyden felt the command come into his mind, a subtle suggestion that made him want to move away from where he was and walk alone for a while. He didn’t do it. Just as suddenly as the idea had formed, it had drifted away, and just as suddenly, the tiny hawkling nestled in the bucket he was carrying screeched out. Hyden didn’t take his eyes off Gerard’s. He watched his little brother’s eyes widen with panic as he realized that Hyden knew what he had just attempted. Gerard sighed and slumped his shoulders. Hyden wasn’t sure if it was a slump of disappointment, or a slump of shame. He decided he was so angry at being commanded like that, it didn’t matter.
“Don’t you ever use your magic on me!” Hyden said, through clenched teeth. “Ever!” Then he stormed off and busied himself feeding the ever hungry hawkling chick.
Gerard was left speechless. He was at a loss. He knew by the way that the magic had dissipated away from him, instead of gathering around Hyden that his brother wasn’t going to obey his mental suggestion. It put a strange feeling in his guts. He began to wonder if the ring had actually been meant for him. For a fleeting moment he was certain that it had been meant for Hyden to find. It was his now though, and he wasn’t about to let Hyden have it. No one would get it from him. Reflexively, he covered the ring with his hand and made for the other side of the procession.
Just after midday, the forest began to thin. There were still trees about, in small clumps of twos and threes, with the occasional copse here and there, but they were no longer in what you could call a forest. Soon, they would angle northward and start down into the gradually sloping valley that the giants called the Leif Greyn. Berda had told them it meant “Life Giver.” Hyden had always wondered if Leif Greyn was the name of the huge river that flowed out of the Giant Mountains, or the name of the lush valley that embraced it. He wanted to ask the giantess, Berda, that very question, but he could never remember to ask it when she was in the clan village visiting.
Berda was the wife of a herdsman, and the very best of storytellers. She loved to tell tales that showed the young clans folk the ways of nature and life. She was old and wise, as well as huge, and Hyden loved her dearly. Hyden couldn’t wait to show her the hawkling. She would have a tale for the occasion, he knew. She knew everything, and she had a way of teaching through her stories that was very effective. Those who listened learned much as she narrated her captivating tales. Most of the people in the kingdom lands thought of the giants, and the mountain clansmen, as barbaric and primitive savages, but they were wrong. In many cases, the mountain folk were far more intelligent. She had told him this repeatedly, and he smiled outwardly wondering what wisdom she would have to offer about his little bird.
The mood of the rest of the clan began to lighten as they made camp for the night. The morrow would bring many smiles, and a few tears, when the group were reunited with their wives and children under the towering black monolith that marked the festival grounds. The actual festival wouldn’t officially begin for a few days yet, but for the Skyler Clan, it would start as soon as the men met up with their families under the Spire.
Hyden sat by himself with the nest bucket in his lap. He had just finished feeding the chick and was using the last of the daylight to look at how much it had grown in the last few days. Its feathers were coming in now, and its beak was turning from a soft, gray triangle, into a longer, sharper thing. Its eyes were still filmed over, but Hyden could tell that very soon they would clear, and the little hawkling would be able to see the world around it. It was walking around the nest now without wobbling or stumbling, and every now and then it
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