Ember Falls

Chapter 5 Sweene's Song Morben's lair smelled of bones and blood. The side of his throne—a wretched nest fashioned with gemstones and golden bones—always made her sick. But Sweene had no choice about being here. She was a slave now, and her horrible duty involved keeping this vile den—this dark heart of the Blackhawk's kingdom—clean. So she worked. Like her fellow rabbit slaves, she worked. Silent and invisible, she moved from task to task without a word. Sometimes an old song would bubble up in her mind, rise unbidden to her lips. But she would always, at the last moment, catch herself. She must keep her silence and keep her place. There were no songs in Morben Blackhawk's lair. Only dim lights, dark corners, cruel counsels, and for her a plague of heart, wasting away her hope. Sweene bent at the base of the hideous throne, scrubbing at stains whose origins she never wished to know. Again, thoughts came unbidden. Some were memories of recent terrors, but good memories pushed their way in. Happy scenes came to mind of her old home, their old happiness together. She smiled, almost forgetting what vile work she did. The song came calling again inside her, a little shaft of light in the darkness of her grave day. She almost hummed, but a sudden whoosh of wings behind her made her turn. With a beat of his wings and a heavy rattle and scrape, Morben settled on his throne. Sweene gasped, horrified to be so close to him. She smothered a scream, recovered herself, scrubbed mechanically a few more times, then backed away, bowing her head as she retreated. She snuck one glance at Morben, and it was enough to make her stumble. He was so large, wide-winged and angular of features. His inky black feathers gave way to a golden yellow around his face, and his beak was long and sharp and awful. His breastplate bore his sign, a sharp M with golden stars at its base, and his helm was set on one of many pikes that surrounded his hideous throne. His weapon, famous for foul deeds over the decades, including the murder of King Jupiter the Great, was still firmly in his grip. It was a long black sickle, rimmed in crimson, a bloody tool for an evil lord. She shuddered, bumped into another scraping servant, and hurried from the room. Breathing hard and shaking terribly, Swain crumpled onto the dark hallway floor. The song inside her was gone. Chapter Six Flight of the Fowlers Pickett was soaring. He released the swinging rope and glided through the air, unsheathing his sword in mid-flight. With two hands gripping the hilt, he plunged the blade into its target. Withdrawing his sword, he dropped to the earth, rolling expertly into a run. He caught another rope and descended once again, releasing to soar, his arms stretched like wings, his sword arcing behind him. He landed on a long branch where he sliced at two more false birds with pumpkin heads perched upon them. I know it's a new sword, but try to hit one or two of them cleanly, Ladybug. Captain Helmer leaned against a tree and scowled, chewing on a stick of celery. Those pumpkin-headed birds aren't fighting back. If you can't hit them dead center, then you'll miss enemies who actually move when you fight them. Pickett could hardly hear Helmer. He didn't have time to lose his concentration now anyway. His team was counting on him to lead the way. He glanced down at his new sword, a gift from Prince Jupiter Smalls. Its steel was forged from the rare blackstone they had found at the abandoned mine site. The pommel bulged with a large circular seal. The seal's design of a flying rabbit had been adopted by his unit, the Fowlers, and now he wore a matching patch on his shoulder. He sheathed the blade in a scabbard strapped across his back. As he dove for another rope, this one on the edge of his leaping range, he panicked. Pickett swam in midair, arms flailing. At the last moment, he stretched desperately and snagged the tip of the rope. Catching it fast, he swung down in a wide arc. He let go, landed on another limb, and sprinted across it, leaping over several obstacles in his path. Up, down, wild swinging leaps, flips and turns, tricky patterns and surprising obstacles. He was nearing the end of the course.