Wild Hawk Down Read online

Wild Hawk Down

  Episode 1 of Falling With Style

  A Story of the Second Realm

  By R.J. Davnall

  Copyright 2012 R. J. Davnall

  This ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  The Second Realm

  Van Raighan's Last Stand:

  Episode 1: I Can See Clearly Now

  Episode 2: You Can't Go Home Again

  Episode 3: A Hole In Her Mind

  Episode 4: Touching the Void

  https://itsthefuturestupid.blogspot.com/

  Contents

  Wild Hawk Down

  About the Author

  Falling With Style

  1. Wild Hawk Down

  The cell gave Van Raighan no privacy. Seated opposite him, outside the bars, the bare wooden stool bruising her buttocks and the stone wall cool against her shoulders, Pevan had nothing to do but stare at him. Charged with abetting Wildren, there was always the possibility that the diminutive thief had an ally among them powerful enough to get him out; the law commanded a constant watch kept.

  This, despite the fact that the cell was almost directly beneath the dais in the Warding Hall that supported the Stable Rods. Pevan was reasonably confident she could get a Gateway open in the floor, if she didn't hold it long. The wall would be pushing it; it would take a Wilder with a will of steel to do any better.

  She shifted on her seat, well aware that nothing would banish the ache short of standing up, and there was a knot in her spine that warned her how bad an idea that would be. One thing she did envy her prisoner was the mattress on his cot in the cell. Hard by mattress standards, certainly, but he showed no signs of discomfort despite having sat there since not long after Pevan's shift started.

  He cut an unimpressive figure, hunched and scrawny under a mop of straggly black curls, his clothes rumpled from too many days' wear; he'd had no opportunity to change since his arrest, two days earlier. He alternated between dozing and staring at whoever had guard duty, and spoke only when spoken to. Pevan wondered if he thought the display of calmness helped his case, or whether he was just confident of being rescued.

  Sherriff Pollack was no closer to getting to the bottom of the thief's motives, and Notia was too busy getting established as Four Knot to help. Rel and Dora had chosen the wrong time to vanish; calm Van Raighan might be, but he'd melt under Dora's glare if he tried giving her the same treatment he gave Pollack. Again, Pevan found herself biting back the urge to start questioning the man herself. It would only bring her grief from the Sherriff.

  So, she sat silently, staring through the bars at the thief, who stared silently back. Occasionally one of them glanced away, but there was nothing else to look at. With the room only lit by a couple of candles, there wasn't even enough light to count spiders. The thought sent a shiver down Pevan's spine, and she sat forward in case there might be a spider on the wall behind her. Her eyes stayed fixed on Van Raighan, though, but for blinking.

  He looked down, frowning briefly in contemplation, before a flicker of amusement ran across his face. The gesture was familiar by now, though Pevan had no idea what thought or memory might be provoking it. Van Raighan's normal mien was grim, even angry. Fair enough, since he had to ask permission when he needed the toilet, and be escorted there and back.

  You'd be Pevan Atcar, right? The only thing he'd said to her - besides asking for privy breaks - in five shifts still rang in her mind. He'd seemed nervous, asking, but equally poised for attack. She was tempted to brand it a fight-or-flight response, but he'd done neither since. And there was little reason for him to fear her, unless he thought she shared his contempt for the law. Prisoner he might be, but he had rights.

  And why did he know who she was, anyway? Until the association with Van Raighan had put his hometown of Tendullor on the map, she'd never even heard of the place. It was almost eight hundred miles away, deep in the safe zone of the South. There were all sorts of reasons he'd know of Federas, but to know her well enough to recognise her on sight?

  He was back to watching her, candlelight softening the harsher lines of his face, head tilted ever so slightly sideways. Dark eyes played host to a reflected sparkle, and gave nothing else away. Perhaps Rel might be able to make something of the man just by looking at him, but he was away on a mission to Vessit, of all places.

  It was Pevan's turn to smile at a stray thought; Rel would be dumbfounded when he got back and found that Federas hadn't burned to the ground without him. Her smile drew a frown from Van Raighan, though if his features hardened, it was in curiosity rather than anger.

  One of them was going to have to speak, sooner or later. Pevan said, "Why do you know who I am?"

  "Shouldn't I?" His voice was mild, his speech lazy. Nevertheless, something sharp and serious underlay his explanation. "Everyone knows the Gifted of Federas, and you're the only Gatemaker here."

  "What?"

  He sat back, propping himself up on his arms. "You didn't know this?"

  "I don't understand." She could feel herself frowning. Well, that was probably the appropriate response. Everyone knew about her? Everyone who?

  "All through my training, I was told how brave and skilled the Gifted of Federas were." He sat up again, folded his arms. "Rissad had it worse, being a Gatemaker. Before your time, of course, but your predecessor was a hero to us."

  "Well, obviously. Temmer was a hero full stop." Hard to keep from sounding too defensive. It felt odd to hear a stranger call the old Gatemaker a hero, though, as if Van Raighan was taking a piece of her away.

  His tone turned conciliatory, apologetic. "Hey, I'm not arguing. Rissad was going to be sent here to finish his training, and the whole town was honoured by it. A great woman. You seem pretty good at turning out great Gifted."

  "We have to be." Something about the little man was getting under her skin, making her prickly when she should have been friendly. Well, polite, at least, but maybe if she could manage friendly he'd open up a bit.

  "I know, I know. An incident a month, or something, right?" Van Raighan wasn't trying to put her back up. He even managed a smile, and she couldn't fault him for the fact that his Southern accent made him sound so bored and uncaring.

  She forced herself to a single chuckle, trying to match his demeanour. "Not quite that bad. Seven last year. Eight the year before. It was worse in Temmer's day."

  "Not so bad?" He shook his head, laughing quietly. "Back home we've had one incident in the last three years. I spend most of my time settling arguments for the Sherriff."

  Had a flicker of distaste crossed his face? Rel certainly got angry enough when Pollack asked him to help with a First Realm case. It was easy to imagine Van Raighan, proud of his Gift, not much older than she was now, finding that his peaceful hometown had no use for him. Particularly with his being a Witness; not the most useful of Gifts.

  However he felt, he was opening up. She found another question easily. "How many Gifted does Tendullor have?"

  "Besides me and Rissad? Just the Four Knot and Pamgin, our Warder." He frowned. "You can see why I feel a bit useless."

  'Feeling a bit useless' didn't explain the worst crime spree committed by a human since the Realmcrash, but how to draw more out of him? Van Raighan had shrunk inside himself, slouching further, and it was hard to remember how much he'd been feared. How much Federas feared him, probably even now. After the deaths at Af, every Northern town had reason to fear the loss of their Stable Rods.

  The man responsible looked up, eyes narrowed. Bitterly, he said, "Go on, ask. You want to know if that's why I did it."

  Pevan blinked. "Actually, I was just thinking that couldn't be the whole stor
y. If you were crazy, maybe, but you don't look like it."

  "Thank you." The thief's voice wavered close to breaking as his face softened. Very quietly, he went on, "That's probably more faith than I deserve."

  "We live by 'the only thing we know is that we know nothing' here, Van Raighan. It comes with the territory."

  Just for a moment, as she said his name, his face hardened again, but his eyes dropped quickly back to the floor. "Nobody ever called me Van Raighan until Af. That was where I first heard the rumours about me. Afterwards..." His eyes sharpened, but Pevan could make out the glisten of tears at their corners. "The town was supposed to be safe. They-" He shut his mouth with an audible click, and his face seemed to go to war with itself, sadness vying for dominance with suspicion.

  She had to be careful how she handled this. He'd talk to her, she was sure, but only if she avoided reminding him she was his guard. 'They', whoever they were, had to be the key. The townsfolk of Af? The Wildren in the Witnessing he'd shown Rel? Van Raighan had gotten his control back, his face settling into a mask of tension that left it all hard, flat planes. She needed to say something before his walls went up again, or they'd be back to silent staring at each other, but how to put him back at his ease?

  Sympathy might do it. Alone with the hatred and fear of the First Realm for so long, he had to feel isolated. Better