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Authors: Heather Graham
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beautiful creature,” he agreed. “You seem to have a way with her, with all manner of beings, I imagine.”
“Oh, yes! I am a falcon mas—” She cut herself off quickly, glancing his way with a rueful grin. “I think that they are magnificent creatures. And she is healing. And you … I wonder how I can help you. What might bring back your memory.”
He came to his feet, a little unsteady.
“Oh, be careful!” she said.
“Walk with me a bit … perhaps I’ll get my bearings.”
“Gladly, sir. I will gladly walk with you.”
Amazingly the falcon found the strength to flutter her wings and hopped upon his arm. The three set off for a walk in the ancient forest along the cliffs together.
Chapter 4
N ever, ever, would Marina doubt the word of Thomasina, the falcon, again.
The man she walked beside was everything she had asked for, and more.
He had not injured his head so badly as it had first appeared, and so they spent time just walking the beautiful landscape, traversing some of the little bridges that crossed the streams, finding high tors, and little copses where trees gave shade from the sun, and nature created the most beautiful dens. They talked about horses at first, and Marina, anxious to help, described the wonders of Calasia, the way the mountains fell to the sea, how lovely the aqua waters could be, and how the landscape with the jagged hills and then higher mountains had provided the bases for castles to be hewn into rock, and the deep valleys where rich earth allowed farmers to plow and grow the richest crops.
They came upon Radifini by the ancient stones and pillars, and Marina fell ever further under the man’s enchantment, because he was immediately courteous and kind to her dear, old friend. Radifini listened to the story about the bump on his head, stroked his beard, smiled at him, and seemed not to think it a serious thing that he didn’t know his name, or quite where he should be going.
“All of us have to stop during life at some point, and think about who we are, and where it is we really want to be going,” he said. The old wizard talked with them a while, then said there were things he simply must be doing, and he left them alone.
Marina said that knowing Radifini was part of what made her world here, this part of Lendo, so very special for her.
And her lost “prince” smiled.
He listened to her with wonder, and when she asked why he frowned, he admitted sadly that thingswere dangerous upon the border lands, that they encountered wartrolls frequently, and he was afraid that the people and rulers of Lendo and Baristo did not fully see the danger.
“They are real then, the wartrolls?” she asked him. “You’ve captured one?”
He shook his head. “I’ve battled them often enough. And they are real—just as your falcon is real. Except she is one form of natural magic and beauty. Wartrolls are magical and evil. They do not die, as mortal men do. They are large, great hulking fellows. And they endure blow after blow … I don’t know if they truly have scales for skin, like an armor. And I don’t know if they can survive with injuries ten times greater than we can bear. But I’ve seen them rise when a man could not do so.”
“If the stories about the wartrolls are true,” she murmured, “then perhaps it’s true that a great dragon lives somewhere near, high in its den, in these hills.”
“The dragon,” he said, and leaned closer to her. “I’ve heard tales of the dragon. They say that it is winged, magnificent, and terrible.”
She smiled wistfully. “Indeed. According to legend, dragons had not been seen for years, and then, when Count Nico d’Or was just about to marry the Princess Elisia, the dragon appeared to sweep her away. But they were deeply, truly in love, devoted to one another. And Nico would gladly have given his life for her. He rode alone, into the hills, and he fought the dragon with the strength of a hundred men and brought her
“Oh, yes! I am a falcon mas—” She cut herself off quickly, glancing his way with a rueful grin. “I think that they are magnificent creatures. And she is healing. And you … I wonder how I can help you. What might bring back your memory.”
He came to his feet, a little unsteady.
“Oh, be careful!” she said.
“Walk with me a bit … perhaps I’ll get my bearings.”
“Gladly, sir. I will gladly walk with you.”
Amazingly the falcon found the strength to flutter her wings and hopped upon his arm. The three set off for a walk in the ancient forest along the cliffs together.
Chapter 4
N ever, ever, would Marina doubt the word of Thomasina, the falcon, again.
The man she walked beside was everything she had asked for, and more.
He had not injured his head so badly as it had first appeared, and so they spent time just walking the beautiful landscape, traversing some of the little bridges that crossed the streams, finding high tors, and little copses where trees gave shade from the sun, and nature created the most beautiful dens. They talked about horses at first, and Marina, anxious to help, described the wonders of Calasia, the way the mountains fell to the sea, how lovely the aqua waters could be, and how the landscape with the jagged hills and then higher mountains had provided the bases for castles to be hewn into rock, and the deep valleys where rich earth allowed farmers to plow and grow the richest crops.
They came upon Radifini by the ancient stones and pillars, and Marina fell ever further under the man’s enchantment, because he was immediately courteous and kind to her dear, old friend. Radifini listened to the story about the bump on his head, stroked his beard, smiled at him, and seemed not to think it a serious thing that he didn’t know his name, or quite where he should be going.
“All of us have to stop during life at some point, and think about who we are, and where it is we really want to be going,” he said. The old wizard talked with them a while, then said there were things he simply must be doing, and he left them alone.
Marina said that knowing Radifini was part of what made her world here, this part of Lendo, so very special for her.
And her lost “prince” smiled.
He listened to her with wonder, and when she asked why he frowned, he admitted sadly that thingswere dangerous upon the border lands, that they encountered wartrolls frequently, and he was afraid that the people and rulers of Lendo and Baristo did not fully see the danger.
“They are real then, the wartrolls?” she asked him. “You’ve captured one?”
He shook his head. “I’ve battled them often enough. And they are real—just as your falcon is real. Except she is one form of natural magic and beauty. Wartrolls are magical and evil. They do not die, as mortal men do. They are large, great hulking fellows. And they endure blow after blow … I don’t know if they truly have scales for skin, like an armor. And I don’t know if they can survive with injuries ten times greater than we can bear. But I’ve seen them rise when a man could not do so.”
“If the stories about the wartrolls are true,” she murmured, “then perhaps it’s true that a great dragon lives somewhere near, high in its den, in these hills.”
“The dragon,” he said, and leaned closer to her. “I’ve heard tales of the dragon. They say that it is winged, magnificent, and terrible.”
She smiled wistfully. “Indeed. According to legend, dragons had not been seen for years, and then, when Count Nico d’Or was just about to marry the Princess Elisia, the dragon appeared to sweep her away. But they were deeply, truly in love, devoted to one another. And Nico would gladly have given his life for her. He rode alone, into the hills, and he fought the dragon with the strength of a hundred men and brought her
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