[Book 2] Chapter 7.5
Intermezzo — The Next Chieftain / The Young Falcon’s Eye
The grass of the Steppe was short.
So short it barely reached the knee. The thin blades clung to the earth so as not to be swept away, while the cold, dry winds of the wide expanse cut from horizon to horizon.
The wind made a sound like something being scratched, passed on, and once more rose from nowhere—never settling, always moving beyond.
Those who traveled from the Outer Steppe into the Plain first noticed the change in the grass’s height, and then the change in the wind’s scent.
The creeping grass gradually touched the knee, its leaves thickening, shifting in form, turning into a darker green.
Soon the grass that reached the knee rose to the waist, and as the wind passed over it, the blades rippled in supple waves.
One by one, the shadows of low shrubs began to appear, then scattered solitary trees.
The force of the wind slackened somewhat, carrying a faint trace of moisture.
Dew gathered upon the deepened green leaves, swayed by the breeze, dripping down to moisten the soil beneath.
——The Plain was near.
As they passed between shrubs and young thickets, a long-awaited rain greeted Fael’s company.
It swept past like a runner, but the damp air surrounding them proclaimed their arrival in a world unlike the Steppe.
They took shelter beneath a small tree.
Maya had once ridden with Serio on the back of a Alpine Elba when they left the mountain village.
On the Steppe he had learned to ride the Swift Elba, and now he could handle even a large Dune Elba on his own, carrying him this far.
Yet whenever he rode such a towering beast, tension seized him. His hands gripped the reins too tightly at the height of that view.
When he dismounted to rest, he stretched his stiffened back and waist with relief.
Then, suddenly, Maya noticed something among the brush—what seemed to be a stone marker overgrown with bright moss.
Unless one knew it was there, no traveler would ever have noticed it.
Curious, he crouched down and studied it closely.
Baleon approached.
“Maya, you noticed that stone. It is a very old guidepost.”
Maya tilted his head.
“Guidepost…?”
Baleon nodded and explained carefully.
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“A guidepost is set so that travelers do not lose their way. This place marks the boundary between Steppe and Plain. That is what the stone tells.”
Maya looked around, gazing back and forth between the Steppe and the Plain.
Watching him, Baleon went on.
“Maya, have you ever heard the words Firma le Ael?”
Maya shook his head.
“It means the Pilgrimage Road of the Wind,” Baleon said.
“Long ago there were people whose livelihood was to follow the paths of the wind.
They read the wind, measured their journey by it, and followed its path.
In time those paths formed a great network, and people called it Firma le Ael—the Pilgrimage Road of the Wind.
Those who traveled it came to be called the Wind Tribe.”
Hearing those words for the first time, Maya felt an inexplicable calm within.
Maya asked Baleon.
“Are there more of these guideposts?”
Baleon gave a slight nod.
“Most have been lost over the long years, swallowed by grass and buried in soil. Yet they still remain in places across this land. Maya, if you listen carefully to the sound of the wind, you may find such stones yourself.”
Maya nodded in reply—small, but firm with new resolve.
Just then, a great beating of wings swept above them.
Startled, Maya leapt from the brush, looking up to the sky, following the direction it flew.
There—on a gentle rise—stood Fael.
Maya hurried to Fael.
When he reached the top of the slope and stood beside him, he saw a small rock before them.
There, at that very moment, the great bird—surely the same that had flown overhead—was about to alight upon the arm of a woman.
When its wings spread, they surpassed the height of a grown man, yet folded, it looked surprisingly compact.
The moment the woman, with the bird upon her arm, turned toward Fael, Maya cried out in shock.
“Eryn!!”
But at once he realized it was not Eryn.
This was clearly a grown woman, not a nine-year-old girl his own age.
Fael stepped closer to her and spoke.
“Kept you waiting?”
She came toward him and replied,
“Only a little.”
From the arm where the bird perched to the crown of her head and down to her toes, she stood unshaken, like a single tree; even the way she walked did not seem human to Maya’s eyes.
And the voice with which she quietly answered Fael was so clear it seemed it could be heard through any wind.
For a moment, Maya could not move at all...
When he finally came to himself, he rushed once more to Fael’s side and, hesitantly, addressed the woman whose expression had not shifted in the slightest.
“Um… are you of the Falconer Clan?”
The woman glanced at Fael.
He gave a slight nod.
Her brow shifted faintly, as if noticing something, and she spoke.
“So—it’s you.”
Whether he truly heard her words or not, Maya pressed on with another question.
“My friend has the same kind of leather armguard on your left arm!
And that bird—it’s a falcon, isn’t it?”
Her expression did not change.
“Yes, it is. I am of the Falconer Clan.”
Relieved yet bound by a strange tension, Maya could say no more.
Fael gently laid a hand on Maya’s shoulder.
When Maya looked up, Fael nodded to him, then spoke to the woman.
“This is Maya, the boy raised by Amna in the mountain village.”
At that, the woman turned her eyes upon him.
Maya lifted his gaze, meeting hers. She began to speak.
“I am Eryna, daughter of Celukha, chieftain of the Falconer Clan.”
Maya caught his breath.
Eryna continued.
“Yes, Eryn is my sister.”
At this, Maya’s face brightened.
Fael, reassured, explained.
“Maya, she is the next chieftain of the Falconer Clan.
For certain reasons, she now acts apart from them, but she exchanges information with us regularly.
She and I have matters to discuss. Go back to Baleon and the others for now, and rest. Will you?”
As Maya turned to leave, Eryna stopped him.
“Wait. My sister asked me to give you something.”
“From Eryn?”
Maya said, startled again.
Eryna slipped her hand into her tunic and drew out a small wooden charm, bound with a red cord and set with a feather.
She handed it to him and began to explain.
“This feather is from Taril, Eryn’s partner falcon.
When she learned you had left the village, she worried for you, asking Father about you every day—though of course he could tell her nothing.
So she took a feather she had treasured from Taril, tied it to a falconer’s whistle, and made this charm for you.
By the way, even if you blow the whistle, nothing will happen!”
Eryna, usually poised and sparing with her words, now spoke with a rush of talk about her sister—so unlike the composed figure she always was.
Still overwhelmed by the change and the quiet pressure she carried, Maya accepted the charm from her hands.
He held it to his nose and caught the faint scent of wood, mingled with something gentle—as if Eryn’s presence lingered there.
“And you!—take good care of it!”
Even as Eryna’s forceful presence nearly bowled him over, Maya felt a surge of happiness and beamed, thanking her with a wide, heartfelt smile.
Seeing Maya’s delight, Eryna seemed satisfied and regained her composed posture.
She brushed at her clothes as though dusting them off, and, while concealing her own joy, gave her reply.
“R-right… I see. You’re that glad. Good. I’ll tell my sister you were doing splendidly.”
Seeing Maya’s radiant smile, Eryna herself allowed the faintest smile to surface.
Upon Eryna’s arm, her partner falcon Korun cocked its head again and again, puzzled by the uncharacteristic air about her.
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