Chapter 8

ENJOY!

Beak and Talon

The current lessened, and the wind turned for the better. Villian, and the sailors, though relieved, were exhausted. Everyone straggled onto the deck, hoping that nothing else was afoot.

Horlan looked worse than any of the sailors; his face was soaked in sweat, his hands raw from rowing, and his legs shivering from so much work. No one talked, save Loylen, (who acted as captain,) and even he could hardly speak. It was almost dark, so he gave his final orders.

“Keep up the sails…then half of you get some sleep, so you’ll be able to take the night shift. You others…keep a sharp eye for were-wolves and other evil.

“I need to rest; I will see you tonight.” And with that Loylen silently drooped to the bunks under the ship. Villian and Horlan followed, but Stolar waited a while until all the sailors that were allowed to rest had sleepily taken to the bunks. He soon was in a bunk himself.

The hold was filled with many things: spices, food, weapons, armor, silk, cloth, and many other things that were good for trade. He had never truly noticed what was in the ship, because it was either too dark at night, or he was too focused on rowing in the day. Either way, this was the first time he noticed the trading items that were to be sold.

“At what prices will these goods sell for at the docks?” he inquired.

“Oh, I’d say forty ta’ fifty o’ gold piece,” said the merchant. “But no more questions; I’m o’ turin’ in!” And with that he slumped into his bunk.

The bunks stacked on top of each other in twos; Loylen took the bunk above the merchant, while Horlan took his own, and Villian took the bunk above Stolar. They dozed away, praying that nothing as bad as that day would come again in a good many years.

Villian awoke to the yell of, “We’ve made it to the lake!” And so they had, a vast dark blue, shining in the sun. It was huge, and one could not see its northern shores. Villian gaped at its beauty.

“The Clog Lake,” said Loylen from behind Villian. “Largon rests not three miles from here; this ship should reach her docks by dawn tomorrow.” It was dawn then, and the day passed slowly. The pink sun soon grew white, and scorched the sailors’ skin though it did not redden it.

The men began to put on coats, hoping to shield themselves from the cold that had reached their ship. The Clog Lake was far north of Cath-Lenor, and the sailors normally went downstream, to Lerves, which was much farther south. Though they didn’t enjoy chapped and reddened skin, they found it no pleasure to be in the cold. Under the deck was much warmer, and Villian spent much time there, when he could. Fortunately, he knew nothing of sailing, (save what the other sailors had taught him,) so he could spend most of his time in the hold. But sometimes he had to keep watch, or climb to adjust the sails, and since those were high places, they were cursed with wind. So Villian avoided as much work as he could that day. The fifth day seemed to pass at a medium speed.

The sky was pink, and was turning into orange, as the sun sank. The bluffs on port-side were very beautiful, and the sun also shone on the water.

“This lake views many things,” said Loylen, coming up beside Villian. “The Bluffs in the west, the tundra in the north, the mountains in the east; even the fields you and I call home can be seen from here.”

“Have you been here before?” inquired Villian.

“Yes, but only twice. I wish it had been more, for the beauty of this lake is immense.”

“What of Stolar? And Marsen? Have the seen this place?”

“Marsen yes, but Stolar has only been to Lerves, which is a place I would like to go someday.”

“Have you…” began Villian, but he was interrupted by a sailor who was Beckoning Loylen.

“Sir, you need to see this,” he said. Loylen and Villian walked to the port-side. The sailors started talking between themselves. Loylen looked for a moment, his face becoming very stern.

“All hands on deck! Archers to the ready! Arm yourselves! Bows and arrows, along with long swords! Go!”

Villian looked out to the west, into the sun that had almost disappeared; he squinted, and began to see what looked like two arches connected to each other. But there was more than one; there were at least thirty, maybe forty of them. and they seemed to be changing shape. It was like they were…then Villian understood; he armed himself, just in time to see the hawks’ eyes. There were at least twice as many hawks as there were men aboard the ship.

These hawks though, weren’t what one would think of if he thought of a hawk. The proportions were the same, but instead, these birds were twice the size as the largest eagle that had ever been spotted. They’re talons could easily tear apart anything smaller than them made of flesh and blood. Villian had good reason to be afraid.

The hawks were not stupid though, like a regular animal. They instead had a vast intelligence, and had a strategy for their attack. Soon they were close enough to the boat to dive, and so they did, but only about half of them. The sailors scrambled on the deck, positioning themselves to get a clear shot. Then came the hawks; they dove so quickly, that the sailors had hardly any chance to aim. Two arrows hit a hawk, and it fell, but at least another ten missed. The hawks were about to hit the ship, when they pulled up suddenly, trying to snatch one of the men. Many of the men ducked, but three sailors were carried off.

When the hawks reached the shore, they would drop their prey on the pebble beach, killing them on impact. Then the giant birds would return to the battle, ready to do the same with another.

Villian fought, but with little success; the same was with the others. Soon he saw hawks swooping down lightly, and landing on the deck of the boat. It was a hand to hand fight now, bows being dropped to be replaced with swords. Villian though, stayed away from the battle, up on the poop-deck, where he shot as many of the birds as he could. Fortunately, they were bigger targets. Unfortunately, a hawk came and tried to carry him off, before he could hit more than two or three. Villian ducked, but another dove, and he had to jump from his place on the poop-deck, to the main deck. He fell hard on the wood, which was not the most pleasant thing he’d experienced. A bird noticed, and came over, pinning him to the floor. Villian’s sword was still in its sheath, and his arms could not reach due to the fact that they were being pressed against the floor. Then, the hawk released him, and he got up, to draw his sword. But as soon as it was in his hand, another hawk swooped down and grabbed him. Searing pain took to his shoulders, and he fainted.

Villian woke to the flapping of strong wings, and rushing air. He also felt an excruciating pain in his shoulders. He painfully looked at them, and saw that the hawk that was carrying him had driven its claws into his shoulders, and was grasping them tightly. He struggled, but that only brought more pain, and did nothing anyway. His brain worked slowly; the first thing he noticed was that his chain mail was soaked with blood. Then he decided that his life was about to be taken from him. He bowed his head, using as little muscle as possible. He felt hopeless.

But then, he saw something; a flash of light near his waist. He had dropped his sword when he was taken, so it could not be that. But then he remembered; his dagger. Getting it was a painful process, having to move his shoulders. He nearly passed out a few times, with no success. He finally grasped it, and brought it up. He drove it as hard as he could into the claw of the hawk; it made a screeching sound, and dropped him. He fell in the water, just yards from the shore, which he had not noticed. He began to sink. This is better death than the one I would have suffered before, he thought.

His mind recalled all of the experiences he’d had with water. He remembered how his friends taught him how to swim, so that he would not drown when they dunked him. He remembered kicking…kicking. That was it. He finally processed the memory and did what it said. But when he tried moving his arms, he felt searing pain, and had to immobilize them again. He kicked though, and soon was closer to air. His lungs screamed, begging to inhale the entire lake. He kicked harder, and he lightly burst through the water.

He kicked his way to the shore, and washed up on the pebbles; it was cold. He lay there, hopeless and exhausted.

He woke to the cold, and he ached all over, but the pain in his shoulders was mostly absent. He rose, using his arms a little. He was hungry, thirsty and cold.

He looked around; there were no houses around, nor a farm in sight. He slumped over to the water’s edge, and drank from the crystal surfaced lake. Then, he took his chainmail off. His coat was soaked, so he took it off to let it dry. He took all of his garments off, but unfortunately, the foggy land would do little to dry them. Of course, they would do better on the pebbles than on him. So he lay there naked, knowing his demise would take place soon.