Kindle Edition
Brendan Carroll's Blog
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Brendan Carroll
ISBN-10: 145365433X
Pages: 284
Copyright: Jul 17, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781453654330
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Grand Master Mark Andrew Ramsay, Chevalier du Morte, Poor Knight of Solomon's Temple, must gather together the tattered remnants of his once powerful Order and retreat to the Isle of Ramsay to make a last stand against Omar Kadif and his global army as the new Prince of New Babylon makes his bid for world dominion. Mark's domestic problems continue unabated with the loss of his beloved brother Luke Matthew while his own son teams up with Omar against him in what appears to be a no-win situation as more and more Templars abandon the Order and join the Fox. The dreaded Skull of Sidon falls into enemy hands and Carlisle Corrigan falls prey to his blind devotion to his apprentice. Ramsay and his dwindling band of loyal supporters must contend with an ever tightening noose as Omar bides his time, waiting for the world to bow at his feet.
"Where are you? Where are you?" The boy whispered as he ran hither and thither across the grassy expanse between the trees and the stream. "Come on girl! Come on girl!"
The hawk was nowhere to be seen. It was not possible! He had seen her go down in the grass right here. Right here. Somewhere. She had not flown away again. He would have seen her.
He stopped and turned his darkly tanned face up to the clear blue sky, listening intently for her bells.
"Manana!" He cried and spun around. "Where are you?"
His master would kill him. He had lost the Master's favorite hawk. The golden bird with big, intelligent eyes. The best rabbit huntress in the kingdom and the Master expected rabbit for supper.
Rabbit. Rabbit. Something stirred in the back of the boy's head. Rabbits lived in holes. Holes in the ground. Where was it? He looked around him. His green tunic flapped in the breeze as he ran to and fro, shouting for the bird with renewed panic.
His curly, black hair bounced on his shoulders. He could hear the sound of distant hoof beats. The Master was coming. The Master was coming.
He suddenly stepped into the very hole he was seeking and was thrown to the ground hard and he cried out as the knife he had been carrying in his left hand in preparation of finishing the rabbit sliced through the flesh of his left cheek. He was up again, immediately, ignoring the terrible gash on his face. The Master would turn him out, flog him, send him to the mines!
"Manana!" He shouted and turned to look down at the hole that had thrown him on the ground. A rabbit hole.
He flung himself on the ground and began to dig at the soft earth in desperation with the bloody blade, chanting her name over and over.
Suddenly, the knife struck something hard and he dragged the body of a rabbit from the dirt. Dead! A dead rabbit. The pungent odor filled his nostrils and the scent of fresh blood told him that this had been the hawk's prey.
"Manana!" He said again and listened carefully, his ear pressed to the ground.
Suddenly, the ground in front of him erupted in his face, sending grass and dirt into his face. The hawk pushed its way out of the warren and took flight, streaming dirt behind it, screeching its gratitude to the distraught boy, the falconer's son.
The boy grabbed up his stringer of rabbits and shook the dirt from their fur. He knelt in the grass and ripped off his leather gloves before deftly skinning the rabbit.
The Master's horse skidded to a stop beside him just as he finished skinning the coney. He leapt to his feet and held up the Master's supper, grinning broadly.
"Ho, boy!" The Master called to him and slid from the stallion's back. "A fine specimen, but how came you to be injured?" He frowned at the ugly gash on the boy's fine-featured face. He could not understand how he could be smiling behind such an injury. It had to be painful.
The boy's smile faded and he reached up one grimy hand to touch his face gingerly.
"I fell, my Lord," he said and looked at the ground as if ashamed to admit this truth. "It is nothing."
"It is something," the Master took his chin in his hand and turned his face back and forth, looking closely at him. "Come up to the hall for supper. Let the cook have a look at you. Perhaps I could use one so brave in my retinue and resourceful, to boot. Mayhap a bit of roasted meat might be a fit reward." He eyed the torn up ground with the eye of an experienced hunter. The boy had saved his best bird.
Several of the Master's companions arrived on horseback and he took the rabbit from the boy's hand. The horses pranced and tramped around the boy, causing him to flinch this way and that.
"A fine catch!" The Master raised the brace of conies above his head and his companions applauded the success of the hunt as the Master climbed back on his horse.
Manana circled above them and then swooped in to land on its Master's outstretched arm.
The small group of horsemen turned in a tight circle and rode back toward the castle, leaving the falconer's son to make his way home as best he could.
The boy smiled to himself and ran after them. His father would be astounded. An invitation to the hall! A chance to work directly for the Master! A proper offering to the gods must be made in order to ensure his success. With just a little help, he might rise above his station and land a place at the Master's table, perhaps an apprenticeship with his father... perhaps something more
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