The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 25 -- Sons of the Hawk

"A fireball?" Rhoz squeaked. "You mean a magical fireball?"

Alyn pressed her cheek against the glass. "An ambush from the top of the cliff, by the looks of it."

The carriage lurched forward. Rhoz slammed against her seat, scrabbling for support. Two more impacts followed, more violent than the first. Rhoz slid off her seat and lay trapped in the gauzy tangle of her multi-layered skirts. Alyn dropped onto the floor beside her as they careened over bumps and hollows.

"They must be rushing us to safety," Alyn said, her voice wobbling with the vibrations of the carriage.

Rhoz braced her back and feet against the seats. "Pray they do not kill us in the process."

The surface beneath them grew smoother, and their speed increased. Rhoz rolled onto her knees.

"Stay down!" Alyn warned.

"I want to see what is happening!"

"Patience! You are safer where you are."

Rhoz let herself slump down again. Alyn was right, of course. But it was most irritating to be in the middle of a battle and know nothing.

After what seemed an interminable time, the carriage slowed and came to a gentle stop. All was silent, save for some shouting in the distance.

"Is it over?" Rhoz asked.

Alyn peeked out the window. "We are out of the mountains. But we had better stay down, just in case."

"Who would dare attack us? The Northlanders?"

"I think not. Their strength is in force of numbers, not magic. These attackers were of a different ilk."

The carriage door next to Alyn was jerked open. "Are you hurt?" the Vacina Calchis asked.

"I think not," Alyn answered, reclaiming her seat.

"I am unhurt," Rhoz said, "but I am much in need of a rest stop."

"We will make camp soon," the Vacinatrix answered, and slammed the door shut before Rhoz could inquire about the attack.

"Do not fret yourself -- all will be revealed in time," Alyn reassured her. "The camp will be teeming with gossip."

Alyn's assessment was wrong. Even her most charming and skilful inquiries failed to elicit information. Everyone was inclined to pretend that the incident had never happened. Rhoz was already abed in her silken tent, ringed by a hundred watchful sentries, when Alyn came to her with the news that there had been a handful of deaths and many injuries, but Utor Horakkyn, Brelathan, and Panax were unharmed.

"This is a matter of national shame," Alyn told her. "Our assailants call themselves the Sons of the Hawk."

"Brigands?"

"Revolutionaries. They do not rob the poor."

"And what is their cause?" Rhoz asked, yawning in spite of her vital interest in the subject.

"They claim that the true spiritual heritage of Helion is both male and female. Their leader calls himself Heliotes Megos and claims to be High Priest of the Hawk."

"The High Priest of the Hawk? Was there ever such a thing in Helion?"

"It seems reasonable. Men deem it unjust to excluded from power, exactly as women do."

"Heliotes Megos." Rhoz tasted the name. "It has a fine ring to it."

"There are those who agree. His following is growing."