CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER
6
The falcon was coming toward them, its mighty talons crunching into the earth with every step it took. Julia fell to her knees and began shaking and slapping Louisa with all her might, desperate to rouse her and run away, run anywhere.
“We’ll have to carry her,” Peter hissed, but it was already too late. Julia felt the darkness of a shadow overhead, and she looked up to see that the falcon was upon them.
It bent its head down so that it was level with them, and Peter stood tall, taller than he had ever stood when facing his father, staring straight into that cold golden eye. Julia could see that he was quivering and his face had gone absolutely white, but his gaze did not waver. And as he stood and waited, the falcon turned its neck once again and brushed the top of its head against Peter’s cheek.
Peter gasped and staggered back as if he’d been struck, stumbling back onto the grass, but then he looked up at the falcon and thought maybe, just maybe, that it seemed to be waiting for him. He reached out a hand and—slowly—carefully—touched the crest of its head, just behind the eyes.
The falcon let out a sound that might, in a cat, have been described as a purr. It opened its beak and let out a series of short squawks. Peter reached out his hand again and stroked it harder this time, running his fingers through the dark feathers.
“Careful,” whispered Julia in the softest breath she could manage. Peter shook his head, his gaze still locked with the falcon’s, as he ran his hand over the bird’s head and neck, and then all the way down along its wing.
“It’s all right,” Peter said. “I think it’s all right.”
The falcon squawked again and bobbed its head up and down, then shuffled its feet back and bent down so that its back was level with Peter’s shoulders. Peter ran his hand along the length of its back, stopping just before the long tail feathers. “I think we’re meant to ride him,” he said.
Before Julia had time to protest Peter threw his arm over the top of the falcon’s wing and scrambled up onto its back, his feet jostling to get a foothold. Finally he was perched triumphantly on top of the falcon, swaying a bit as the bird adjusted its position, and he grinned down at Julia.
“Nothing to it,” he said. “Climb on up!”
“I don’t … Peter, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Julia’s gaze was still locked on that sharp beak. But he reached his hand down to her and hoisted her up, and before she knew it she was sitting behind Peter with her arms tight around his waist, wondering if that beak could still reach them back here.
“It’s all right,” Peter said again. “We were meant to come here to the garden—you were right! The Lord of Hosts must have sent the falcon. It’s better than a ship. We can ride him all the way to—to wherever those ships are headed.”
Julia’s only response was a tightening of her grip around Peter’s waist. Defeating dark lords was one thing, but flying up over the sea? What did the Lord of Hosts expect of them?
The falcon rose to its feet, and Peter and Julia found themselves swaying on its back as they struggled to find a grip. Julia looked down. The ground seemed very, very far away. And then she gave a little cry, for Louisa was still crumpled in a heap where she’d fallen.
“Louisa! Peter, Louisa’s still down there! We need to get her up here …” But just as she spoke, the falcon picked Louisa up in one of his great claws, beat its wings twice, and rose into the air.
Julia screamed as they mounted into the air and grabbed at anything she could hold onto—Peter, mostly. Peter had crouched low as they ascended above the trees, and then, seeing where they were going, he threw out his arms and broke into a yell.
All of Aedyn was laid out before them. Looking around, Peter was able to see the castle, and the garden, and suddenly all the trees became a great mass of green forest. The coastline approached, and Peter could see the harbors and inlets and rivers that came in from the sea.
They flew over the dune and the beach and then they were at sea. The air changed—it was colder, with the salt spray hovering above the waves, and it must have been this that stirred Louisa out of her faint. Peter and Julia, riding low over the falcon’s back, felt the bird shift its position in the air. And then they heard a familiar scream.
There were no words in it yet — just a long, high-pitched shriek. The falcon was getting its balance, adjusting to the writhing girl in its talons. Julia stuck her head over the edge as far as she dared and could just see the edges of Louisa’s braids flinging themselves out from her head.
“It’s all right!” Julia cried. “Hush, Louisa! It’s safe!” But if Louisa heard her there was no indication, and it was a long, long time before the screaming stopped. After a time it was replaced by a dull whimper and the occasional sob, and bothersome as it was for the two children riding on the falcon’s back, even Peter had to admit that riding in a giant falcon’s claws could not be the most comfortable way to travel.
They rode over a quiet sea, the salt breeze in their hair and the sun high above them. Foam-tipped waves crested beneath them, and a few brave seagulls scavenged the rocks over which they broke. There was no land on the horizon, just more water and more waves, but occasionally Peter and Julia caught a glimpse of the schooner that they were following. The falcon stayed far away from it—perhaps it understood that they had to stay out of sight.
“Where do you think it’s taking us?” asked Julia. She had to shout — the wind rushing around and above them almost took her words away with it.
“Don’t know,” Peter yelled back. “The nearest land is Khemia, but there couldn’t be anything left there. No people, at least. Not after the volcano erupted and everyone fled.”
This exchange was met by a renewed whimpering from Louisa.
The falcon moved through the air swiftly and steadily, as if the very breath of the Lord of Hosts was at its back, but it was a long, long time before Peter and Julia saw anything on the horizon other than water. The sun began to sink low in the sky, and with it the air burst into a kaleidoscope of oranges and purples. And in the moment that the sun slipped below the horizon, in that magical moment when it is not quite day and not quite night, Peter felt Julia slump against his back and loosen her hold on his waist. She had fallen asleep.
He leaned forward and gripped the falcon’s neck all the tighter, and though it did not make a sound, Peter felt warm and comforted all through his body. The twilight faded into night, and one by one the familiar stars of Aedyn winked into the sky. Peter looked up at them and breathed a prayer to the One who had called them, though he did not even know what to pray. He lay there for what seemed like hours, awake and yet not awake, feeling the warm body soaring beneath him, watching the winking of the stars and waiting for what would come.