Falkin

777 RC, Dragon moon 2ndTtriface; Upper branches, at the Rider’s University, in the Vale of the Heartwood.

Falkin glanced over the edge of the wagon, sized branch he stood on. Most people, even those living in the mountainous tree of the University would have found standing on a branch this narrow unnerving. Falkin loved it though, being able to feel the wind shift the living wood under his feet. Far below him he could barely make out the Wolf Riders saddling their giant mounts as they prepared to go out on search for the newest candidates for this year’s class of Rider apprentices. Falkin tried to imagine what it would be like to see the World Tree for the first time. He scuffed a foot across the smooth worn bark of the branch he stood on thoughtfully.

The mighty tree the Riders called home was larger than many mountains. The Dragons had helped the first Riders grow it, as a symbol of the peace between their species. A Star Oak, the magical tree had grown in minutes to tower above everything within sight. Every part of it could be used for something, the acorns for bread and food, the leaves for clothes and bandages, bark for medicines. A mighty gift, it benefited all humans, not just the Riders. Five miles around, the trunk supported dozens of stairs and protruding housing for the Dragon Riders along the trunk. Towering three miles, the tree thrust branches into the clouds, providing unique homes for the Falcon Riders and nesting grounds for their partners. The air at the crown was thin enough to make it difficult to breath. Falkin loved the crisp smell of the air up this high, as if no humans had ever touched it. He watched the pack of Wolf Riders thunder off towards the south.

With a sigh Falkin put the spyglass away, he had borrowed it from the observatory, no one would miss it. Even though it would be an expensive trinket anywhere else in the world. Far below the wolves faded away into the distance lost among the rolling hills. He checked the sun. At this rate he was going to be late for his next lesson. Falkin sprinted expertly over the slightly swaying branch. No sign of fear at the nearly 13,000 foot drop to the ground slowed his pace. The door set into the very bark of the tree was expertly made to merge and blend with the outermost layer of the tree. Most of the new apprentices would be shocked at how much work they had ahead of them, weeks of lessons on every conceivable subject, from botany to mathematics. All before they even learned how to use the magic inside of them, or their partners where hatched and born. But for Falkin it would be almost a vacation. Already his uncle had him in lessons with the best tutors he could buy, bully, or blackmail into service, teaching Falkin all of these things. Then there were his tutors in riding, and archery, sword fighting, jousting, scribing, foreign languages, and dozens more subjects that he had been taught over the years.

Falkin was not ungrateful for the knowledge he was being imparted with. On the contrary, he loved learning anything new. But after years of trying his hardest and completing every challenge set before him, he was sick to death of the pointless drudgery of it, his uncle, demanded perfection accepting nothing less in others or himself. His uncle had never once shown anything remotely like approval at his actions. Nothing Falkin did was any more than what was expected of him, no matter if it was winning the archery contest at the Summer Solstice competition, or swimming across Drake Lake at 8 years old. The day of his birth was not even something to be acknowledged with a gift or a kind word, Falkin didn’t know when his exact birth day was, since his uncle had never told him happy birthday or given him a gift.

He swung wide around a corner barely missing an owl rider who had her nose buried in a book. Skidding to a stop he jumped in the express lift reserved for senior riders and members of the Riders council, he flipped the brass lever for the roots and hung on as the lift brake disengaged. His feet slowly lifted off the bottom of the lift. Free falling for 10,000 feet the lift brakes gradually re-engaged slowing his plummeting journey until he was once again standing on the floor . He loved the feeling it was almost like flying, or at least he imagined.

His Uncle had never even taken him for a ride on his Giant Bald Eagle, Sirius. He claimed only an Eagle Rider was worthy of riding an Eagle, and that he was not a carriage service. The lift slowed gradually and the feeling of flying fled as smoothly as it had come. Falkin’s feet settled firmly back to the floor, and as soon as the lift clanged to a stop he continued his hurried journey. He expertly dodged around tiger Riders, and a few older Wolf Riders as he made his way outside. They ignored him, his sprinting antics where well known throughout the Rider’s University. The massive tigers, nearly six feet tall at the shoulders, watched him with bright predatory eyes as he dodged around them. Obviously tempted to bat him around like a tabby cat with a toy mouse. He smiled impishly at their intense regard, not slowing his pace.

Once outside he headed Northeast towards Drake Lake where his archery instructor had said to meet him at noon, or else. Panting, Falkin stumbled to a halt in front of his teacher. Ackard was not a Rider. “A simple woodsman,” his uncle called him. He was in fact the best huntsman within a hundred miles, also the best tracker. He had no permanent home Falkin had learned, preferring to live in the wilds around the vale. He probably knew the Heart Vale better than anyone else within its magical perimeter. Falkin couldn’t imagine what his uncle had used to get him to agree to private lessons with him every day.

“You’re late.” Ackard said gruffly. Falkin started to talk but Ackard waved his excuses off and tossed him his longbow.

“Get started.” He swept his hand at the lake. Falkin frowned and looked out over the rippling water. A dozen targets where bobbing up and down in the waves. He turned in shocked disbelief, to Ackard.

“That’s impossible!” Falkin exclaimed. Ackard said nothing, simply took the bow back, fitted an arrow to the string and drew it back smoothly. He waited timing his shot and let fly, the arrow soared over the waves and thudded solidly into the furthest target. He handed Falkin back the bow and raised his eyebrows.

“Show off.” Falkin muttered and prepared himself for a long lesson in humility. Other boys his age got to laze about in the sun on fine summer days like this he mused wistfully. Concentrating, he shot his first arrow at the nearest target, missing it by a wide margin. Ackard broke into a quiet hoarse laugh. Falkin ignored him and continued practicing.