The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1) (32 page)

            "Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart," Danica said with feeling. "Tonight, I'm buying all the rounds."

            "Actually, I'd prefer it if you'd just not flirt so bloody much instead," she said. "It brings all kind of attention my way. Very embarrassing."

            "Consider it done, though you should try flirting. It's really quite fun."

            Smiling happily, Danica turned to continue down the street. She was immediately brought up short at the sight of two dark shapes bearing down on them. Their size and the rattle of armor said they were male warriors. That terrible night, in that other dark street fifteen days ago, flooded back as the men came within arm's reach.

            "Declare yourselves," a harsh voice demanded.

            Danica never hesitated. She lashed out with her foot, connecting with the closest man's groin. As he fell retching, the other reached for his hilt. Danica was quicker, pressing the tip of her sword to his throat.

            "Yield!"

            "Danica, what are you doing?" Cat said. "They're City Guardsmen."

            "Guardsmen? Glorious Gods, what have I done?"

            "Earned a trip to jail for the both of you," the standing Guardsman growled. "Now, in the name of the Sultan, you yield!"

            Danica promptly kicked the Guardsman in the groin, then brought her pommel down atop his head as he bent over in pain. She kicked the other in the temple before turning to Cat.

            "Run!"

            "Why did you do that?"

            Grabbing Cat's arm and dragging her away, "Believe me, neither the Guard nor a magistrate would listen to any excuses or arguments we offered. They would either throw us in a cell for the next twenty years, or sell us into slavery. If that's what you want, then be my guest."

            "What's going over there?" a male voice called out.

            Two armed and armored men came running their way. By the meager light, Danica could see they were also City Guardsmen.

            "Gods," Danica exclaimed quietly when they spotted the downed Guardsmen. "This way."

            She led the way into an alley. They had a respectable lead, but their pursuers might be faster. The Guardsmen's experience chasing criminals through the streets would weigh heavily against she and Cat.

            "Hurry," Cat urged her.

            "I'm running as fast as I can," she said. Then a sound came to her. A not so distance, defiant roar. "You hear that?"

            "Hear what?" Cat said, cocking her head as she ran.

            Coming to a narrow street, Danica turned right, "This way. Hurry."

            They ran up the steep steps of the street. Passing several side streets, they finally reached a wide boulevard. Stopping to get her bearings, Danica could hear the Guardsmen approaching. Then with a smile, she led the way up the boulevard.

            Running past one of the city's warhawk aeries, they rounded a corner and ducked into an alley. Danica pulled Cat down into some dark shadows and waited. Soon the Guardsmen ran past, shouting angrily at each other. When she couldn't hear them, Danica led Cat deeper into the alley, making several turns. They soon emerged across the street from the warhawk aerie.

            Grinning, Danica asked, "Ever fly a warhawk?"

            Looking shocked, "No! I can't."

            "It's easy — "

            "Warhawks eat people," Cat interrupted, noticeably shaken.

            "Not really," she said. "They will eat people, if hungry enough. Their appetites are sort of like that of a dog's. Wild dogs will eat people, too, but these are tame warhawks."

            "I've never thought of it like that," Cat said, but still looked worried. "I still don't know how to fly one. Let's wait till morning and get some horses."

            "No. They'll be looking for us. Besides, warhawks are the fastest transportation available," Danica said, smiling at the thought. "And I'm getting more impatient to get my body back every day."

            When Danica moved to head over, Cat grabbed her arm, "We'll disturb them and bring the Guardsmen back."

            "No we won't. Warhawks are pretty smart," she said. Then grinning, "Nothing really scares them that much, except fire."

            One of the birds, then another, let out an ear piercing screech. Cat almost jumped out of her skin. Danica suppressed an urge to laugh.

            Tightening her grip, Cat said with more urgency. "But I don't know how to fly them."

            Prying her hand off, "It's easy. Just tell the bird what you want."

            "I don't understand."

            "Warhawks are about as smart as a five year old child. They understand almost everything you say," she said. Then as an afterthought, "So be careful of what you say."

            "Then they'll know we are trying to steal them."

            "Probably, but I'm not sure they really understand the concept. Warhawks don't have the same feelings of loyalty we have, or even that of a dog. I'm not even sure they can tell the difference between people." Looking both ways, she headed across the street. "They tend to obey any orders anyone gives them."

            "God of Mercy, I hate this," Cat whispered as they entered the vast aerie.

            Warhawks were perched on thick tree trunk sized roosts about a foot off the ground. Despite its name, a warhawk aerie wasn't a building. It was nothing more than a fenced in area with roosts for the birds. This particular aerie covered about six acres, with about half the roosts occupied. The only building was next to the gate and was where the saddles were stored.

            Danica and Cat found one young man on guard, dozing just inside the gate. After hitting the guard over the head, they dragged him into the building and took two saddles. Then Danica led Cat all the way to the back of the aerie to avoid being seen from the street while they saddled their mounts.

            With her eye already set on the pair of birds they would be taking, Danica barely gave the other warhawks a second thought, or a glance. Though, Cat was a nervous wreck as they marched past the ever vigilant giant birds of prey.

            Danica remembered her first time in a warhawk aerie. In her ten year old mind the towering warhawks were all glaring viciously — hungrily — at them. Her first time was in the light of day. Even in the scant light, Danica could make out their massive, hawklike forms perched quietly all around her. Each and every bird watched their every move. It sent icy chills up her back.

            "Calm down, Cat, you're starting to spook me now," she whispered.

            As they stopped beneath the two chosen warhawks, one reared up and flapped its wings. Danica was surprised to hear Cat gasp in fear, then moan miserably. She found it hard to believe the big bravo was afraid of anything.

            Cat, on the other hand, suddenly looked like the mouse just before the eagle snatched it up. Like dinner.

            "I said calm down, Cat. He's just excited at the prospect of flight," Danica said. "He has excellent night vision and probably suspects we're going to take him."

            "I don't think..." she started in a quivering voice.

            Forcefully, "It's all right. Leave everything to me."

            Danica dropped the saddle, then stepped confidently up to the perch. She unwrapped the thick leather restraining strap from around it, and then wrapped it around the warhawk's leg. Then she returned to Cat.

            After leading Cat to the side, "Now, watch this." Looking up at the bird, she said in a commanding voice, "Saddle!"

            The warhawk hopped off the perch and dropped to its belly. Danica grinned at Cat, then took one of the saddles. She walked over and tossed it up behind the bird's thick neck. After ensuring all four straps were hanging off properly, she climbed up on the warhawk's back and positioned the saddle correctly. Then she untied the rope and dowel ladder attached to the high cantle and tossed it down the bird's back.

            While doing all this, she gave Cat a running commentary of what she was doing and why. She explained everything on the saddle and how to use it.

            A warhawk saddle was a wooden frame covered in leather, much like a horse saddle. There was a high pommel and cantle, but no stirrups. None were needed. The wide, thick leather covering behind the cantle was called the sleeve. It was generally four feet wide, with numerous leather straps for securing any cargo.

            Hopping off, "Stand!"

            The warhawk rose up slowly, careful not to dislodge the saddle. Danica picked up the heavy steel buckle with its four loops. She attacked the top two straps first, then the lower two. The saddle straps each had a large steel loop halfway down their length. The straps looped between it and the buckle similarly to the way a girth is tightened on a horse. Only with a warhawk, there were four straps to tighten down, making a large "X" on the bird's chest.

            When she was done, "Finished!"

            The warhawk turned and hopped back up onto the perch. Danica released the other bird's leg, and then made Cat help her saddle it. By the time they finished, Cat seemed more in control of her fear. Then she had the bird squat down again.

            "Any questions?" she asked Cat as they stood by the squatting warhawk.

            "No. I don't really know enough to ask any intelligent questions yet," she said.

            "Jump up in the saddle," Danica said. When Cat had settled in, she pulled the wide safety strap across her lap. "Keep this on at all times while airborne. Understand?"

            "Yes," she said, nodding. "Is the ride rough?"

            "When they flap their wings hard during take-off its similar to being on a horse, but then its smooth as a baby's butt after that. They flap gentler and less frequently," Danica assured her. "But you never know when a gust will hit you, or the bird will make some sudden maneuver."

            "Oh, my Gods," Cat groaned, eyes rolling up.

            Chuckling, "You'll be fine. Trust me. After I take-off, order it to fly. And then tell it to follow me."

            "If you say so," she said, looking worried. "How do I stop it?"

            "It'll follow me until you tell it otherwise, so when I land you will too."

            "But what if I have an emergency?"

            "Just say 'land' in a loud commanding voice, and it'll go down," she said, shrugging. "But like I said earlier, be very careful what you say, or how you say it. We wouldn't want the bird misunderstanding you." Stepping back, "Now, tell it to stand and then say 'finished.'"

            Cat took a deep breath then licked her lips. "Stand!" The bird stood promptly. After taking another deep breath, "Finished!"

            Danica smiled at Cat's yelp when the bird jumped up onto the perch. She suppressed the laugh, not wanting to upset the bravo any more. Cat was enduring a lot for her at the moment. Just on her word that she had been wronged. It took a lot of guts to face down a fear like that. She remembered her first warhawk ride, and she had wanted to do it.

            Danica climbed up the rope ladder, settled into her saddle, and fastened her safety strap. Then she pulled up the ladder and secured it to the cantle. Glancing around to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything, she frowned at the empty saddle sleeve. They couldn't take the time to get saddlebags of food, water, and other supplies. Both were leaving behind everything they owned. But they had chosen saddles with both bows and arrows and javelins present. If need be, they could defend themselves.

            Giving Cat the thumbs up, she took a tight hold of the pommel and commanded, "Fly!"

            The warhawk's wings spread as it crouched. With a screech, it launched itself into the air. That old thrill took her as it climbed quickly on snapping wings. She realized the ride was a bit rougher than she had told Cat. Once the birds reached the altitude with which they would make the trip, they would be gliding more often than not. Cat might be a little shaken at first, but the remaining ride would soothe her fears.

            Glancing back, she saw with satisfaction that Cat was following her up. She'd had a nagging fear the bravo wouldn't be able to give the command to follow.

Chapter 17

            It was coming up on noon when they first spotted the ancient city of Ismat al-Haratha. The city sat upon a great three-tiered rock formation. From a distance, the whitewashed city looked like two white stripes and a crown on the reddish-brown hill.

            Normally, water seeped up to springs atop the formation. The citizens had long since learned to channel these waters for their own use, but the water pressure increased dramatically during the spring melt in the Tyr Mountains to the south. That forced water up through a multitude of smaller, tighter cracks all over the formation. And that water spilled into the streets and over the cliff walls where algae came to life and turned the cliffs bluish-green. It is an annual event celebrated by the local population with parades and street festivals.

            Every spring the excess water collected at the base of the formation to form a shallow lake. The local farmers used it to irrigate their fields for the spring planting. Because of it their fields were some of the most productive in all of the Qakara Desert.

            The city itself had built, and was continuing to build, great cisterns deep inside the rock to collect and store the water. That water provided most of the irrigation for the rest of the year. Since the main springs provided a steady flow year round, the citizens of Ismat al-Haratha rarely needed to tap into the cisterns for everyday use.

            As they neared, the city and its surrounding fields looked like an island of green within a sea of golden sand and reddish rock. Small castles beside villages dotted the surrounding countryside. Each castle sat atop another spring, which in turn provided irrigation water for the surrounding fields. Ismat al-Haratha's plentiful water supply was the envy of the Desert Kingdoms.