Mercedes Lackey - Anthology by Flights of Fantasy Read Free Book Online Page B

little, the village grew quiet beneath the
heavy blanket of stars. Arikan waited. No sign of human life now, though he
didn't doubt that guards had been set: That was the way of his people, too.
                 But
they would be bordering the village, looking out to potential danger. No one
seemed to be watching him, so Arikan folded up the hide, slipped the roll of
twine on one arm, and stood, picking out his path, shadow to shadow to shadow,
then moved forward as silently as ever he had in the desert. The fledgling
eagle woke, staring at him from its cage, and for a heart-stopping moment,
Arikan was sure it was going to start shrieking. Could it know why he was here?
Was that possible?
                 It
is a bird. No more than that.
                 And
it wasn't going to know he was a friend, or that he was trying to rescue it.
The cage was sturdy wood, too sturdy for an eagle's beak or talons, and it was
held together by thickly woven reed rope. Arikan studied the knots, as much by
touch as sight in the dimness, and warily began to untie them, keeping a
cautious eye on the eagle.
                 He
had it. Arikan took a deep breath, bracing himself. Then he hurled open the
cage, enveloped the eagle in the folds of the hide—and instantly had his arms
full of terrified, furious chaos. The fledgling was heavier than he'd expected,
not that he could tell accurate weight from the frantic struggle the creature
was putting up. At least he didn't have to worry about those sharp talons
raking him; they had damped shut on the hide with alarming strength. The eagle
was trying its best to get him with its beak, and Arikan got another fold of
the hide over its head, praying that he wasn't going to smother the creature,
or kill it from the sheer shock of being handled so roughly. But no, if it was
going to die of shock, it probably would have done so already.
                 Don't
die, Arikan told it silently, repeating it like a prayer, don't die.
                 Amazingly,
no one had heard, or else was so used to the sound of frantic flappings not to
notice. And the hide was muffling the eagle's attempts at shrieks.
                 Now,
Arikan thought breathlessly, to get out of here.
                 Oh,
indeed. Just walk right out of the village with a squirming bundle about the
size—and, he thought, the weight—of a child. No problem at all.
                 Well?
Didn't really think this part through, did you, clever one? That
the eagle might not want to be carried out like a package. There really
is a gap between "clever" and "wise."
                 Never
mind self-mockery. Arikan wrapped the eagle-bundle about with a few loops of
twine, just for security's sake. No need to worry about airholes—that sharp,
wickedly curved beak had already stabbed a few in the hide. Gingerly, trying to
keep the beak pointed away from him, Arikan shouldered what now looked, at
least in this darkness, like his pack, and— walked, keeping to the shadows
since he wasn't suicidal.
                 Too
easy, his mind kept whispering, far too easy.
                 Never
mind, he snapped back at himself. I'll gladly take the "easy."
                 At
least the eagle had stopped its wild thrashing. It must be exhausted. It ...
was only exhausted?
                 Don't
die, Arikan repeated yet again.
                 "Hai. Where are you going?"
                 One of the warriors. Arikan, heart pounding, smiled his most
innocent smile and told him, "Out there. The stars, you know. They talk to
me."
                 "Of
. . . course they do." The warrior hesitated, then shrugged. "Who am I to deny the stars? If you want to spend a night out
there, so be it."
                 Arikan
walked on, willing to the eagle, Keep Still. Keep quiet.
                 They'd
be in utter darkness soon