Lord Gregory spent the whole of the day learning why the plant Vaegon prepared for him was called Squat Weed. He had to make for the bushes so many times throughout the day, that he was walking bow legged, and crying openly from the soreness. Worse than that, up in the northern reaches of the Leif Greyn Valley, there weren’t very many bushes. Modesty wasn’t an option, when the only features of the landscape were rock-strewn hills and shin high grass.
The people of the Skyler Clan pitied the Lion Lord. The Westlander had thrilled them with not one, but two great Brawls in the last few years. To see him in such a state was heart wrenching. They, without a doubt, respected him, and if Hyden thought to help the man, they wouldn’t intervene. But for reasons other than the fact that his frequent stops were slowing their progress, they decided to leave Hyden, Lord Lion and the elf to travel at their own pace.
“That Guard Captain was paying far too much attention to our friend,” Vaegon said. He and Hyden were walking side by side, leading Lord Gregory, who was slumped in his saddle.
“Why do you insist on talking about me as if I’m not even here?” Lord Gregory shot weakly. “It’s maddening.”
“The men of the kingdoms think in different ways than I do,” Hyden replied to Vaegon absently.
His attention was focused on Talon. The bird was trying to chase an insect that was darting through the air in short, zagging spurts. It seemed that the bug was mocking Talon. Talon couldn’t change direction as quickly as the insect could, nor could he stop and hover. He could barely fly, and the poor bird was growing frustrated. Finally, Talon gave up and flew off in a different direction, leaving the irritating bug seemingly forgotten.
“He will tell his superior officers that I’m alive and where we’re going,” Lord Gregory spoke again. “It isn’t wise to…wise to…Oh blast that fargin stuff you gave me, elf! Help me down again! Hurry now!”
Vaegon did so. He turned his back to the Lion Lord and watched Hyden watching Talon as Lord Gregory noisily handled his business.
Talon hadn’t lost interest in the bug after all. It had been a trick. Hyden was absorbed in the ordeal now. He could feel what Talon was feeling, but only in the back of his mind. Still, it was exciting to feel the bird’s eagerness to get his taunting prey.
Talon was higher up now, circling, watching and calculating. Suddenly, he dived, wings back, neck outstretched, eyes focused sharply. He was coming down fast and at a sharp angle. The insect buzzed along from place to place, lazily now, since it no longer felt the presence of the pesky and clumsy young bird. It had no idea that its doom was swiftly swooping in from above. Talon adjusted his little wings a bit, and then thrust out his claws. In one fleeting movement, he came out of the sky, and snatched the insect. It hadn’t had a chance. The bug was crushed in the bird’s grip instantly. A few moments later, after munching his prize, and swallowing it down, Talon reared back his head, and let out what was intended to be a proud, fierce shriek. It sounded more like a long, thin squawk to Hyden, but he didn’t dare laugh.
“Is there no mercy left for me?” Lord Gregory wailed miserably from where he was squatting down in the grass.
“He needs a lot of water now,” Vaegon said. “Much more than we can carry.”
“One of the streams that flow into the main river isn’t too far,” Hyden told him. “My people will cross a lot farther upstream. When they do, they will leave the Redwolf soldiers they hired behind. If we go across now, we will be able to avoid crossing paths with that greedy captain you spoke of.” The last was directed at Lord Gregory.
Vaegon nodded his agreement.
“In the lore of my people, there are stories of men like you Hyden Hawk, men who bond with the creatures of the world. Those types of men grow to be very powerful, and their actions tend to have a great impact upon all of the lands.” The elf paused searching for the words he wanted. “Are you – No – Do you feel such a power brewing inside you?”
The question caught Hyden off guard. He thought briefly of the old fortune teller’s words and the words of his grandfather back at the harvest lodge.
“I feel Talon’s instincts in my mind sometimes, but nothing more.”
“I would rather you left me for dead,” Lord Gregory interrupted.
He was back on his feet, walking with his legs stiff, and making an obvious effort to keep them from rubbing too close together. His buttocks were raw and chafed, and one of his shoulders was swollen to twice the size of the other. He was so pale, that if he stood still long enough he could pass for a stone statue. All in all, he looked to be on the verge of death, which truthfully he was.
“Lead us to the river,” Vaegon said softly, then went to help the Lion Lord back into his saddle.