The Last of the Silver Wings by Kim Vermaak

Author:Kim Vermaak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yakhal

Twenty-Four

Timing

Timing. Only those who owned it would conquer. The fastest predator of the skies knew this to be true. The King’s falcon rose up on the chilled silent breath of the earth, its sleek body searching for prey. The falcon’s body was primed for the kill, slicing through the air with razor-sharp talons ready to sever the spinal cord of other creatures of the air with a single strike.

A sparrow who had missed the winter flight graced the crystal skies. With an explosion of feathers, the diving falcon ripped the life from its unsuspecting prey.

Far below the King signaled to the bird. Plummeting to the earth at staggering speed, the falcon delicately landed to present the kill to its master. King Radolf lifted his hand to indicate to the bird that it may eat. The falcon’s beak became a slashing tool that ripped flesh from the kill.

King Radolf watched in silent satisfaction. Yes, timing is everything.

The King timed his days in precise routine.

He rose before dawn and he trained before he broke his fast. Armies cut off from provisions needed the strength of mind to fight without rations. To be a feared and respected leader, his men must see him model strength and endurance. His was brutal with his body. He showed himself no quarter. King Radolf learned to quell the rage inside him that always boiled just below the surface, like a volcano preparing to erupt from its earthly crust.

His warrior tutors had been scouted from across the realms. Each had a reputation that could strike terror in the hearts of even the most courageous knight. They were swift, ruthless and deadly.

At night in secret chambers, he would hold a private war council with these killers, away from the meddling of the Bishop. Each man was masked. Shrouded in secrecy, the hidden identities of his private council reduced the risk of spies revealing the players in his game. Bishops had eyes that reached out like tentacled sea monsters.

After his morning training, the King retreated in solitude to steady his mind and be alone in his own counsel. Today his troubled mind fought to embrace the peacefulness of the morning.

Although his guards were close, they remain hidden, behind the dense trees. Only this small clearing, created for the King’s falcon hunt, was open and uncovered by the impenetrable canopy of leaves. The clearing was a sun-drenched haven in the autumn light that renewed his strength. Those who dared to appear here un-summoned by the King, invited death. Justice was served with the swift release of a crossbow, leaving the perpetrators' bones to be cleaned by scavengers.

The King in armour had his crossbow and poll axe within easy reach. Always prepared for enemies, his quiet solitude belied his lethal cunning.

His fingers were numbed by the frigid morning air as he caressed the cold razor-sharp metal axe. He imagined the weapon doing his bidding, and smiled a little inside his mind.

The poll axe was a weapon of such deadly precision, that all who saw it, knew that its bearer was a powerful killer without mercy.

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