The Many Adventures of Fay Fairburn - Hunting
[This story is a continuation of Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part 8. and Part 9. You may want to read those first.]
The man made of cages lumbered after the hawk, while the creatures trapped in its thighs, arms, and chest shrieked and yowled in terror and frustration. The hawk flew far ahead, red-brown wings coasting high on updrafts. It outdistanced the man of cages by a mile, two miles, three, then swooped down to perch at the top of a swaying tree. Its small heart thrummed in its chest.
But the hawk’s rest was never long, because the man of cages comes pounding through the trees. The hawk waited until it felt the thumping vibration of the giant’s feet before taking flight again.
They performed this dance of pursuit and flight many times, crossing forest and field, hillsides and rivers; until, at last, the hawk reached its destination -- the Great Lake.
The hawk landed on a piece of desiccated driftwood along the rocky shore. The Great Lake, often confused for a sea, was many, many miles across and so wide the other shore could not be seen.
The ground shuddered at the giant’s approach, but the hawk waited. Already it was so exhausted, it wanted only to find a perch, tuck its head under its wing and sleep. Maybe it was better, it thought, to simply wait and be caught, than attempt the long, long flight across the lake and its risk of drowning.
But then, the hawk could hear the cries of the caged creatures over the pounding of the caged man’s enormous feet. The fear of being once again caged swelled within the hawk, overpowering the fear of death. It lifted its wings and leapt into the sky just as the giant hand reached out. The woosh of air at the hand’s near miss caused the hawk to tumble, but it regained its balance and caught an updraft. It rose up and up and up, until the giant looks small on the rocky shore, and sped out over the water in search of the other shore.
The man of cages tromped into the water after the hawk. The water splashed up and through the wood bars, and the elfin girl caught in its shin screamed. The water swirled around her waist and she pushed herself up to avoid the water. She screamed again and the giant stopped, stepped back. It could not follow the hawk without drowning its cargo.
In the distance, the hawk became a tiny speck against the expanse of sky.
* * * *
The pale man, Frëoseth, sat at a simple stone table in a simple stone room. The only decoration was a tall ornately carved fireplace that held no fire. He dipped his pen in ink and worked his ledgers, tallying up what was left of his merchandise, checking what had been recaptured, noting what still had yet to be returned. Over half of his stock was gone, run off into the woods, over the hills, across skies and seas, leaving him at quite a loss since the disaster at the market. He may not have even enough coins to pay his guards.
A thudding vibration resounded through the manor’s walls. Frëoseth put his pen calmly between the pages and close the book. He stood and strode through the bare halls to the yard. Outside, a great empty marsh stretched into the straight line of the horizon. The beautiful expanse of empty space was only marred by the presence of giant made of cages.
Frëoseth laced his pale fingers behind his back and turned his frigid blue eyes up. The giant had a sodden and shivering elf woman in its calf, a lizard trapped in its shoulder, and a leopard in its chest.
“Is this all?” Frëoseth said. “Disappointing.”
The giant’s did not move. It simply stared down at its creator with an eyeless gaze.
Frëoseth called for his guards. Several burly men of varying species came running from around the side of the house. They paused and stared up as the man of cages reached up and slowly pulled the hissing, spitting leopard from its chest. The guards looped rope around the best and dragged it back around to the stables.
The lizard was passed over to the guards next. Then the elfin woman was dropped from the giant’s thigh. She fell into the dirt and pressed her face into the mud, her lips moving in a seeming chant.
Vaguely curious, Frëoseth stepped forward.
“Please, please,” the woman said, over and over. “Please.”
The pale man turned away in boredom and disgust. He gestured to a guard to come collect her.
He saw the woman’s shadow move, suddenly lengthening to its full height. He turned and saw the glint of a knife in her hand. He lifted his arm to block the blow, but the women abrupt fell back and the knife fell point down into the ground. The shaft of an arrow protruded from the woman’s chest and blood pooled at the corner of her lips.
Frëoseth stood over the woman for a moment and then strode back toward the house. Passing the young guard who held the crossbow, the pale man said, “You owe me the cost of her life.”
The young guard collapsed to the ground and hung his leathery head, knowing he would never be able to repay the debt.
* * * *
[A couple day's late. Sorry. And I'll be traveling for work this weekend, so I won't be able to continue the story until the week after.]
[To read more Fay Fairburn stories click here.]
The man made of cages lumbered after the hawk, while the creatures trapped in its thighs, arms, and chest shrieked and yowled in terror and frustration. The hawk flew far ahead, red-brown wings coasting high on updrafts. It outdistanced the man of cages by a mile, two miles, three, then swooped down to perch at the top of a swaying tree. Its small heart thrummed in its chest.
But the hawk’s rest was never long, because the man of cages comes pounding through the trees. The hawk waited until it felt the thumping vibration of the giant’s feet before taking flight again.
They performed this dance of pursuit and flight many times, crossing forest and field, hillsides and rivers; until, at last, the hawk reached its destination -- the Great Lake.
The hawk landed on a piece of desiccated driftwood along the rocky shore. The Great Lake, often confused for a sea, was many, many miles across and so wide the other shore could not be seen.
The ground shuddered at the giant’s approach, but the hawk waited. Already it was so exhausted, it wanted only to find a perch, tuck its head under its wing and sleep. Maybe it was better, it thought, to simply wait and be caught, than attempt the long, long flight across the lake and its risk of drowning.
But then, the hawk could hear the cries of the caged creatures over the pounding of the caged man’s enormous feet. The fear of being once again caged swelled within the hawk, overpowering the fear of death. It lifted its wings and leapt into the sky just as the giant hand reached out. The woosh of air at the hand’s near miss caused the hawk to tumble, but it regained its balance and caught an updraft. It rose up and up and up, until the giant looks small on the rocky shore, and sped out over the water in search of the other shore.
The man of cages tromped into the water after the hawk. The water splashed up and through the wood bars, and the elfin girl caught in its shin screamed. The water swirled around her waist and she pushed herself up to avoid the water. She screamed again and the giant stopped, stepped back. It could not follow the hawk without drowning its cargo.
In the distance, the hawk became a tiny speck against the expanse of sky.
* * * *
The pale man, Frëoseth, sat at a simple stone table in a simple stone room. The only decoration was a tall ornately carved fireplace that held no fire. He dipped his pen in ink and worked his ledgers, tallying up what was left of his merchandise, checking what had been recaptured, noting what still had yet to be returned. Over half of his stock was gone, run off into the woods, over the hills, across skies and seas, leaving him at quite a loss since the disaster at the market. He may not have even enough coins to pay his guards.
A thudding vibration resounded through the manor’s walls. Frëoseth put his pen calmly between the pages and close the book. He stood and strode through the bare halls to the yard. Outside, a great empty marsh stretched into the straight line of the horizon. The beautiful expanse of empty space was only marred by the presence of giant made of cages.
Frëoseth laced his pale fingers behind his back and turned his frigid blue eyes up. The giant had a sodden and shivering elf woman in its calf, a lizard trapped in its shoulder, and a leopard in its chest.
“Is this all?” Frëoseth said. “Disappointing.”
The giant’s did not move. It simply stared down at its creator with an eyeless gaze.
Frëoseth called for his guards. Several burly men of varying species came running from around the side of the house. They paused and stared up as the man of cages reached up and slowly pulled the hissing, spitting leopard from its chest. The guards looped rope around the best and dragged it back around to the stables.
The lizard was passed over to the guards next. Then the elfin woman was dropped from the giant’s thigh. She fell into the dirt and pressed her face into the mud, her lips moving in a seeming chant.
Vaguely curious, Frëoseth stepped forward.
“Please, please,” the woman said, over and over. “Please.”
The pale man turned away in boredom and disgust. He gestured to a guard to come collect her.
He saw the woman’s shadow move, suddenly lengthening to its full height. He turned and saw the glint of a knife in her hand. He lifted his arm to block the blow, but the women abrupt fell back and the knife fell point down into the ground. The shaft of an arrow protruded from the woman’s chest and blood pooled at the corner of her lips.
Frëoseth stood over the woman for a moment and then strode back toward the house. Passing the young guard who held the crossbow, the pale man said, “You owe me the cost of her life.”
The young guard collapsed to the ground and hung his leathery head, knowing he would never be able to repay the debt.
* * * *
[A couple day's late. Sorry. And I'll be traveling for work this weekend, so I won't be able to continue the story until the week after.]
[To read more Fay Fairburn stories click here.]