CALLAHAN THE FALCON

[Callahan] Life during wartime is not but the absence of death. I walked, a hollowed shell devoid of a soul, as I listened to the orchestra of death. Weeping cries sung lullabies to the night air as men I would call comrades raped and pillaged any and all unfortunate enough to be present. “Falcon, hey, come ’ere. Get a piece of this while she’s still fresh.” Vulture, defiling the corpse of a young woman with no thought to the moral complications it could present, smiled at me with his gnarled and yellowed teeth. I may have had to console with the fact that I could count meself amidst the ranks of the damned, but even as such, there were acts I wouldn’t undertake nor tolerate. “On with ye. We haven’t time for ye to be getting yer rocks off on corpses. Yer to be making more corpses, aren’t ye?” “Ruining me fun, are ye? I haven’t a clue what Namion sees in ye? Yer soft and weak.” Vulture was about to continue his actions until the flat of my rapier lashed solidly across his back. “Our mission is to enter Tellian’s manor and allow ye yer luxuries. That doesn’t mean I need to be tolerating yer dishonor the whole way through it.” I prepared myself for his response with a readied stance. Glaring menacingly, Vulture returned his pants to their proper place and pulled his dual-handed axes from the body. Licking the blood from one of his axe blades, he snarled toward me, saying, “Ye ever strike me or even think of striking me again and—” A quick thrust placed the tip of my blade at Vulture’s throat while I simultaneously drew forth my short sword with my off hand, stepping forward and sliding the short sword none too gently sidelong across Vulture’s gut. Callahan wore his wry half smile as he spoke. “Weak and soft though I may be, I’m quick enough to open ye a new hole for breathing while decorating this street with yer innards. So mind yer tongue and yer place. Do what ye were told to do, and don’t let me catch ye straying from task again.” That being sorted, Vulture reluctantly entered the nearby mansion. Dispatching a few undertrained and unprepared guards, I also entered the final stages of this night’s endeavor. I could hear the cries of horror Vulture was inspiring within the mansion as I waited for my mark to appear. The rockery around the well I was perched upon shifted as the secret exit from the mansion revealed itself. Tellian, cousin to Kaville, crawled out, glancing nervously from side to side, never suspecting to look up. As death’s deliverer, I longed for these moments. That breach in the fabric of time where all slows to a crawl while you recognize your own power of divinity over the life before ye. Just as I prepared to finish my mission, I heard further scuffling in the secret passage. Tellian pulled forth his daughter and wife. I’ve done much that taints the fabric of my soul, but in that moment, I knew I was losing my edge for serving Namion. The thought of making this child an orphan while having her watch turned my insides. Tellian, releasing some kind of growl, finally witnessed my presence. Skill and experience backing him, he tested my footing with a few thrusts. Dancing lightly, I inwardly cursed my earlier hesitation. Leaping from the well and easily batting aside his overly aggressive onslaught, I couldn’t help but think that maybe Vulture was right. Maybe I was getting soft. Then he presented an opening, raising his blade for an overhand sweep. I thrust forward with my rapier, and it found its mark. “Please . . . my child.” Hitting his knees, the gurgled plea left his lips as his punctured lung collapsed upon itself. Dodging lithely, I instinctively swung my short sword as his wife attempted to take advantage of my distraction. Parted open from shoulder to hip, her life’s blood rushed forward, showering me. Her dagger fell to the grass from her already lifeless hand. Gurgling blood with his attempted pleas, Tellian stretched his hand toward his little daughter. Who, with tearless eyes, watched in shocked horror as her life disappeared before her eyes. Another thrust of my blade ended his attempts, and a solid hack with short sword parted head from body. “Yer going to live, little one. I was supposed to allow Vulture some time with ye, but ye’ve more than enough image to spread the message we desire. I’m Falcon of the Talons, and my hands did this act under order of Namion. Grow big, healthy, and strong. Train well. Someday, perhaps ye’ll be the one to send me on to the judgment of the gods, but today, I fear, my dear, is not your day.” Tossing her mother’s dagger to her feet and collecting her father’s head, I looked once more as I departed into the night. “Go and do not look back.” I uttered those parting words as much to myself as to her.