cranny in which to hide his leather bag. Then, a little
distance along the right hand cliff, a hundred feet up but nowhere near
the top, he spotted an eagle’s nest perched on a small ledge. Sorcerers
respected eagles, both for their strength and beauty; no one would dream
of attempting to invade their nests. If Tarkyn could secrete his valuables
there, no one would find them.
Perfect, he thought, Impossible, but perfect. Tarkyn shrugged and
grinned to himself. He had nothing to lose. He was a man without a
future. He would attempt the impossible.
It was not reaching the nest that was the problem. He and many other
of the stronger sorcerers could levitate, not necessarily a hundred feet,
but enough to rise from one foothold to the next. It was running the
gamut of the eagles that made it so tricky. And if he was busy levitating,
Tarkyn could not raise his shield or fire a beam of power at the eagle to
defend himself. Besides, killing the eagle would defeat the whole purpose
of hiding his valuables behind its nest.
Tarkyn settled down on a wet rock to eat while he watched the eagle’s
nest. It was hard to see exactly what was happening but from time to
time, he saw the head of a large golden eagle jutting over the top of the
nest. Judging by the way it kept shifting its position, he was fairly sure
that there must be an insistent chick beneath it. He wondered why the
eagle didn’t take off straight away to hunt until he remembered that it
would be waiting for the air to heat up.
It was still early morning and the air was cool and fresh. Tarkyn decided
that he might as well find himself somewhere in the undergrowth to doze
until the warming air created the thermal currents the eagle was waiting for.
The sound of voices woke him a little before noon, dragging him up
out of the depths of a sound sleep. For a few moments, he lay groggy and
disoriented, trying to remember where he was and why. He gave his head
a shake and rubbed his eyes, glad that he was safely out of view behind a
curtain of overhanging branches. He listened carefully for a few minutes
and caught enough snatches of conversation to decide that the voices
belonged to a group of sightseers, out on a walk to view the spectacle of
the falls. Not as dangerous as soldiers, but still able to report a sighting
of the renegade prince on their return, even if they chose not to tackle
him themselves.
Tarkyn was just about to let himself doze off again until they left, when
it occurred to him that he might snore and alert them to his presence. So,
instead, he spent the next half an hour, jerking himself awake every time
he felt himself nodding off.
Luckily, the dampness underfoot and the spray in the air were a little
too uncomfortable for the day trippers to stay long. But just as he was
about to emerge, he heard more voices coming up the track from the
bottom of the falls.
Oh Blast , thought Tarkyn, I’ve trapped myself, right in the middle of the
local attraction. He thought back to the last large village he had passed. It
would have been about two hours from the bottom of the falls. So it was
reasonable to assume that the last day trippers would leave the top of the
falls at least three hours before dark. Tarkyn heaved a sigh and resigned
himself to a long wait.
Inactivity was not natural to him and by the time the last voices had
died away down the side of the valley, most of his supplies had been drunk
and eaten, out of pure boredom. By the time Tarkyn could crawl out of
his hiding place, he felt damp through to his bones. The sun was heading
towards the horizon but once he was away from the overhang of the trees,
there was still a sting of heat in the air. Without further ado, Tarkyn hitched
his pack firmly on his back and walked to the bottom of the cliff to plan out
his route. The cliff was not completely sheer. In fact, an experienced climber
could probably have scaled it without ropes. However, Tarkyn planned to
distance along the right hand cliff, a hundred feet up but nowhere near
the top, he spotted an eagle’s nest perched on a small ledge. Sorcerers
respected eagles, both for their strength and beauty; no one would dream
of attempting to invade their nests. If Tarkyn could secrete his valuables
there, no one would find them.
Perfect, he thought, Impossible, but perfect. Tarkyn shrugged and
grinned to himself. He had nothing to lose. He was a man without a
future. He would attempt the impossible.
It was not reaching the nest that was the problem. He and many other
of the stronger sorcerers could levitate, not necessarily a hundred feet,
but enough to rise from one foothold to the next. It was running the
gamut of the eagles that made it so tricky. And if he was busy levitating,
Tarkyn could not raise his shield or fire a beam of power at the eagle to
defend himself. Besides, killing the eagle would defeat the whole purpose
of hiding his valuables behind its nest.
Tarkyn settled down on a wet rock to eat while he watched the eagle’s
nest. It was hard to see exactly what was happening but from time to
time, he saw the head of a large golden eagle jutting over the top of the
nest. Judging by the way it kept shifting its position, he was fairly sure
that there must be an insistent chick beneath it. He wondered why the
eagle didn’t take off straight away to hunt until he remembered that it
would be waiting for the air to heat up.
It was still early morning and the air was cool and fresh. Tarkyn decided
that he might as well find himself somewhere in the undergrowth to doze
until the warming air created the thermal currents the eagle was waiting for.
The sound of voices woke him a little before noon, dragging him up
out of the depths of a sound sleep. For a few moments, he lay groggy and
disoriented, trying to remember where he was and why. He gave his head
a shake and rubbed his eyes, glad that he was safely out of view behind a
curtain of overhanging branches. He listened carefully for a few minutes
and caught enough snatches of conversation to decide that the voices
belonged to a group of sightseers, out on a walk to view the spectacle of
the falls. Not as dangerous as soldiers, but still able to report a sighting
of the renegade prince on their return, even if they chose not to tackle
him themselves.
Tarkyn was just about to let himself doze off again until they left, when
it occurred to him that he might snore and alert them to his presence. So,
instead, he spent the next half an hour, jerking himself awake every time
he felt himself nodding off.
Luckily, the dampness underfoot and the spray in the air were a little
too uncomfortable for the day trippers to stay long. But just as he was
about to emerge, he heard more voices coming up the track from the
bottom of the falls.
Oh Blast , thought Tarkyn, I’ve trapped myself, right in the middle of the
local attraction. He thought back to the last large village he had passed. It
would have been about two hours from the bottom of the falls. So it was
reasonable to assume that the last day trippers would leave the top of the
falls at least three hours before dark. Tarkyn heaved a sigh and resigned
himself to a long wait.
Inactivity was not natural to him and by the time the last voices had
died away down the side of the valley, most of his supplies had been drunk
and eaten, out of pure boredom. By the time Tarkyn could crawl out of
his hiding place, he felt damp through to his bones. The sun was heading
towards the horizon but once he was away from the overhang of the trees,
there was still a sting of heat in the air. Without further ado, Tarkyn hitched
his pack firmly on his back and walked to the bottom of the cliff to plan out
his route. The cliff was not completely sheer. In fact, an experienced climber
could probably have scaled it without ropes. However, Tarkyn planned to
Similar Books
