Then, one morning, clarity returned to him.
Kieli opened his eyes and although he was weak, he found he could understand his surroundings. He was in a large barn, with doors at either end. In a close-by stall, he could hear horses eating. He was lying upon a pallet of straw covered by a double blanket, and had two more blankets over him. The air was hazy with smoke from a small camp stove, a rectangle of beaten iron sheeting within which coals were allowed to burn. Safer in a barn full of hay than an open fire. Kieli elbowed himself up and gazed around. The smoke stung his eyes a little, but much of it escaped through an open door in the hayloft. It was quiet, so Kieli judged it was not raining.
His body ached, and he felt stiff, but his slight movement didn’t bring on waves of pain as it had before.
There was a man sitting upon a wooden stool, regarding him with dark eyes. The man’s hair was mostly grey, though bits of black still remained. His droopy moustache hung down on either side of a mouth that was tightly pursed as if he were concentrating. A heavy fringe hid most of his forehead, and his hair hung to his shoulders.
Blinking an accumulation of gunk from the corners of his eyes, Kieli asked, “Where am I?’’
The man looked at him inquisitively. “So, you’re back with us?” he asked rhetorically. He paused for a moment. “Robert!” he shouted over his shoulder toward the barn doors.
A moment later the doors swung open and another man entered the barn and came to kneel beside Kieli.
This man was older still, his hair grey without color, but his eyes were powerful, and his gaze held the boy’s. “Well, Talon, how do you feel?” he asked softly.
“Talon?”
“You said your name was Talon of the Silver Hawk,” supplied the older man.
The lad blinked and tried to gather his thoughts, struggling to understand why he might have said such a thing. Then he recalled the vision, and he realized that it had, indeed, been his naming vision. A distant voice echoed in his mind, rise and be a talon for your people.
“What do you remember?”
“I remember the battle . . .” A dark pit opened inside his stomach, and he felt tears begin to gather. Forcing the sadness aside, he said, “They’re all dead, aren’t they?’’
“Yes,” answered the man named Robert. “What do you recall after the battle?’’
“A wagon . . .” Kieli, who now had to think of himself as “Talon,” closed his eyes for a while, then said, “You carried me away.’’
“Yes,” agreed Robert. “We couldn’t very well leave you to die from your wounds.” Softly he added, “Besides, there are some things we would know of you and the battle.’’
“What?” asked Talon.
“That can wait until later.’’
“Where am I?” Talon repeated.
“You are in the barn at Kendrick’s Steading.”
Talon tried to remember. He had heard of this place, but could not recall any details. “Why am I here?’’
The man with the droopy mustache laughed. “Because we rescued your sorry carcass, and this is where we were bound.’’
“And,” continued Robert, “this is a very good place to rest and heal.” He stood and moved away, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. “This barn Kendrick is allowing us to use without charge. His inn has warmer rooms, cleaner bedding, and better food—‘’
“But it also has too many eyes and ears,” offered the first man.
Robert threw him a glance and shook his head slightly.
The first man said, “You bear a man’s name, yet I see no tattoos upon your face.’’
“The battle was on my naming day,” Talon answered weakly.
The second man, the one called Robert, looked back at his companion, then returned his attention to the boy. “That was over two weeks ago, lad. You’ve been traveling with us since Pasko found you in your village.’’
“Did anyone else survive?” Talon asked, his voice choking with emotion.
Robert returned to the boy’s side, knelt, and put his hand gently on his shoulders and said, “Gone. All of them.’’
Pasko said, “The bastards were thorough, I’ll give them that.’’
“Who?” asked Talon.
Robert’s hand gently pushed the boy back onto the pallet. “Rest. Pasko will have some hot soup for you soon. You’ve been at death’s door. For a long while, we didn’t think you’d survive. We’ve seen you through with sips of water and cold broth. It’s time to put some strength back in you.” He paused. “There are many things to talk about, but we have time. We have a great deal of time, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’’
Talon did not want to rest: he wanted answers, but his weakened body betrayed him, and he lay back and found sleep welcoming him again.
The song of birds greeted him as he awoke ravenous. Pasko brought over a large earthen mug of hot broth and urged him to drink slowly. The other man, Robert, was nowhere to be seen.