Vargoth Ember's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The wall held. That was not enough. Vargoth stood on the broken slabs above the sealed cave and looked north. The mercenaries were out there, past the cliffs, gathering blades. He did not know how many. He did not know when they would march. A blind wall was a coffin. He needed eyes on the enemy before they moved. "We can't wait behind stone," Vargoth said. "They know where we are. We know nothing." Ember climbed up beside him. He was young, quick to fight, slow to think it through. "Then let me fly north and count them." "A dragon in daylight? They'd loose every arrow they own." Vargoth shook his head. "We need something small. Something they'll never notice." Marina waded from the channel below. She had taught Vargoth to read the tides, and she read men the same way now. "There's a falcon that nests on these cliffs," she said. "Storm-touched. Fast. It will carry your eyes if you feed it and treat it fair." Vargoth found the bird on a high ledge past the lighthouse. It was dark as wet slate, with pale light crackling along its wings. It watched him with one bright eye and did not flee. He set down a fresh-caught fish and stepped back. The falcon dropped, tore into the meal, then hopped closer. He fed it again the next morning, and again. On the fourth day it landed on his outstretched claw. "Now the north," Vargoth murmured. He lifted his arm toward the cliffs. The falcon read the gesture and launched. It climbed fast, riding the wind, until it was only a black speck over the mercenary camp. Vargoth waited through the long afternoon. Ember paced. Marina sat on the slabs and watched the sky. Near dusk the falcon returned. It landed hard, feathers slick with sea spray, and screeched twice. "It saw them," Marina said. "Read the bird. It's frightened." Vargoth studied the falcon's darting eyes, the way it snapped its beak toward the north. Frightened meant many. He pieced it together. The camp had grown. Not a raiding band now, but a war party, with wagons and long ladders built for stone walls. "How long?" Ember asked. Vargoth looked at the fading light. "The bird flew back at speed. They're close. Two days. Maybe less." He set the falcon on a dry perch inside the cave mouth. It had done what no dragon could. He had his eyes now. But the news was worse than blindness. He turned to Ember and Marina. "They're not coming to fight us at the door. They brought ladders to climb the wall we built." The stone he had fused to keep them out would not stop a war party. He had bought time and traded it for a harder problem. Two of them could not hold this cave against so many. He needed more than a wall. He needed an army of his own.