Legend of the Storm Hawks

Storm Hawks

Storm Hawks~

Calum Iverach

Dundarien, Aleron

“Rampaging beasts nearly trampled us,” said Delegate Taw, still surly. “We barely escaped with our lives. I’ve advised the Rhi’Iverach to lodge a complaint with King Walter.”

“You arrived a full day early,” Delegate Gruder fired back. “Had we known to expect you, Chief Buchanan could’ve ensured safe passage with his own guard providing escort.”

“Unfortunate timing. Nothing more,” Calum interrupted their posturing. “If our hosts didn’t want us here, I doubt they’d send cows to fend us off. Aleron values its cattle.”

That drew a ripple of laughter from the tense gathering in Dundarien’s great hall.

“I appreciate your indulgence, Your Grace,” said Lord Lyall Buchanan. “Gaven will account for your poor welcome.”

Lyall Buchanan was a widower. Chief of his clan, he fought with distinction when Dowan Iverach’s ambition threatened Aleron. Not ten years later, grey streaked his blond mane, and his belt was as broad as his shoulders. Dowan was stone-cold dead, and Lyall was considering betrothing his son to the Beast’s daughter.

“Sethlyan will answer as well,” said Lord Symon Callan. “Lady Marjory and I are relieved no one was injured.”

Calum nodded to the woman at dour Lord Symon’s side. The circumstances of their arrival had delayed proper introductions, but the chestnut-haired man with them was probably the Callan chief’s eldest son, Rogart. Speculation put Rogart the presumptive successor to Aleron’s Chief of Chiefs after Adan Tavish chose to step down. That day would be a long time coming.

All heads turned as the young men strode through the doors, collies trotting behind them. The cavernous hall quieted but for the echo of their boots off its polished granite floors.

From the swords strapped across their backs to the daggers and pistols stowed in their breclan belts, it was apparent they were Rhynnborn nobles. Of all the superlatives Holden had used in convincing Calum to consider the alliance, he had to concede at least one truth. Despite layers of travel dirt, they had no coarseness about them. His sisters might even find them handsome.

Sethlyan Callan and Gaven Buchanan resembled their fathers enough that Calum identified them readily. Sethlyan outpaced the others, with the barely restrained energy of a thoroughbred colt. Gaven’s abashed approach hinted some humility might lurk beneath his brawn.

Their companion’s swagger bore the confidence of a man twice his size. His dark features and irreverent smirk gave him away as Aengus Gruder, the third of the friends whose reputations, according to Ranald, were spreading by the day.

Of course, that meant they would be short on intellect and long on arrogance.

Calum silently rehearsed the words to get him out of Dundarien without inciting a clan feud. The fact they’d almost trampled him to death ought to make exiting easier.

“What the hell were you thinking, running a herd like that?”

Lord Lyall’s bellow caught Calum by surprise. Alerons didn’t mince words.

“It was a race. No, a chase. Captain Royce said…” Gaven trailed off and looked to Sethlyan.

“Captain Royce said the Camrans had been reiving here again,” said Sethlyan. “They’d taken a hundred head in the past fortnight.”

“It was a full moon.” Aengus picked up the story. “Gaven was sure he knew where we’d find the herd.”

“So we went to take them back,” said Gaven.

“Camrans are reiving Iverach herds, too,” Holden spoke up, no doubt trying to curtail the damage their recount was doing to Calum’s interest in hearing the ending. “Lothor is back from his service in His Majesty’s Navy. We believe he’s behind the trouble.”

“Ah. Well then. Had to be done,” said Lyall. “Damned thieving Camrans.”

“I’m sorry, Da,” Sethlyan addressed his father. “I didn’t think about anyone being on the road.”

“You didn’t think because you didn’t want to lose. You were reckless.”

“They were daring,” Rogart defended his brother. “Who here can claim you were never young and stupid before you got so old and wise?”

“Symon, the boys meant no harm.” Lady Marjory rested her hand on her husband’s arm.

A collie trotted up and sat between Sethlyan and Symon. The dog’s piercing, ice-blue eyes caught Calum’s attention. The Dunbars of Tulane Hall bred the blue-eyed dogs prized for their herding ability. Tulane collies took so well to training some claimed they could hear a man’s thoughts.

“He’s right, you know,” said Lyall. “An hour this way or that, and we’d be congratulating their cunning.”

“It could have ended badly, Lyall.”

“But it didn’t. Come on, you old badger. Admit it. Our boys gave Camran one hell of a chase.”

Lady Marjory clasped her hands before her and sent her penitent son a subtle smile.

“That they did.” Symon snorted. “But if we continue excusing them, we’ll find ourselves short of second sons.”

“My lords, if I may beg your indulgence,” Daor Ranald interrupted. “I’ve held my tongue until it stings from the biting.”

Calum tensed. One never knew what might come out of Ranald’s mouth once he got going.

“We came here to meet Lord Sethlyan and Lord Gaven, but what a boon to find you all three together,” said Ranald. “Do you know what they’re calling you? The Storm Hawks of Aurel. Some say you’re prophecy come to pass.”

“Some have active imaginations,” said Sethlyan.

“Some love a good story,” said Ranald, “and the stories are spreading across Innis. Lord Aengus, you must be the one they call the Dark Hawk.” He nodded at Gaven. “White Hawk, of course.” He peered over his spectacles at Sethlyan. “And the Fire Hawk. Lads boast of your daring, and the young girls swoon.”

Sethlyan looked away and rubbed his neck.

“B-but we aren’t…” Gaven stammered.

“If Aurel fate depends on these three, we’d best start packing for Tallu,” Rogart said to collective snickers.

“We are second sons. There are three of us.” Aengus shrugged. “That’s where the similarity ends.”

“Is it?” said Ranald. “I heard an interesting story about a sword named Talon.”

“We may know something of that.” Aengus’ admission drew a glare from Sethlyan.

“Is it true you bested Blackheart himself? Reclaimed the sword he stole from the Rhi’Aleron?”

“It wasn’t as dramatic as that,” said Sethlyan.

“Oh, come on.” Rogart elbowed him. “Makes for a decent story.”

“Do not encourage them,” said Symon.

Ranald c****d his head, waiting.

Gaven sighed. “We were headed back from a cattle drove. Chief Tavish was on his way to Jorendon. We happened to stop at the same tavern for a meal. We were about to leave when a band of thieves struck.”

“Blackheart is shorter than a notorious pirate ought to be,” said Aengus. “We didn’t know him at first.”

“Talon’s scabbard alone is worth a fortune,” said Gaven. “Blackheart might’ve gotten away if he’d just taken our coin. But we had to go after the sword.”

“Every Chief of Chiefs since the clans came together has carried Talon,” said Aengus.

“We weren’t the only ones,” said Sethlyan. “Plenty of others went after him, too.”

“But you’re the ones who found him,” said Ranald. “Did you truly reclaim Talon without drawing your swords, as they say?”

“Oh, we drew them,” said Aengus. “Blackheart had only one of his men with him, but he’s a quick thinker. He challenged us to cards and wagered the sword.”

“Well, you never, ever sit down to cards with Seth and Aengus both,” said Gaven. “They let him get cocky. Then they cleaned his clock.”

“You should’ve seen Blackheart’s face,” said Aengus. “He shook Seth’s hand and named him the best gambler he ever met. And that’s how we reclaimed Talon and a bit of coin for our effort.”

The story drew hoots and whistles. Even Symon’s scowl gave way to grudging pride. Sethlyan focused on his boots. He actually seemed uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well told,” said Ranald. “What about the time you rescued the Pelican from a band of bounty hunters with naught but a mug of ale?”

“That would be unlikely, wouldn’t it?” Sethlyan’s reply was curt, but Ranald was undeterred.

“I’ve heard other stories—”

“—which we may encourage them to share later,” said Calum. “If you don’t mind indulging our curiosity.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Sethlyan offered a relieved nod. “But don’t let rumors paint us as reckless. We just seem to be nearby when interesting things happen.”

Calum smiled despite himself. He didn’t want to like these men. Regardless of what he’d told Holden, he’d come looking for a reason not to put his trust in them, or in anyone for that matter.

“Lord Lyall, I accept Dundarien’s invigorating welcome,” he said. “I like being where interesting things happen.”

Chapter 6