FALCON'S PREY
by Kristina Coia

Prologue

Once upon a time there were two kingdoms separated only by a mysterious range of mountains. No one from either land dared to travel over these mountains or deep into the forests that led to them because of the myths and legends that whispered dangers down through the ages. The only safe course was a narrow passage between the mountains. The passage was easily accessible to each side and was frequently traveled. The first kingdom, Prantarr, was abundant with goods. Their people were strong and powerful and felt dominant over their neighboring land, Delmaa. This land was poor, with survival only made possible by their trade with Prantarr. Traded items between the two lands included fruits, vegetables, horses, cloth, and wood from Prantarr, while the Delmish exchanged only a few tawdry weapons and other metal tools. Prantarrians did not require any of what Delmaa had to give, for theirs was an abundant land. The people of Prantarr lived lavishly, were sometimes wasteful, and were unaware of any danger from Delmaa, as they thought the people there were weak and vulnerable. They had long since formed an alliance with Delmaa, which had continued for many years with peace throughout the lands.

This peaceful existence changed abruptly when months of unprecedented rainfall caused a landslide of mud and rock which soon closed off the only means of commerce between the two. Without their safe passage, who would dare venture over the mountains and face the unknown dangers to get to the other side?

The king of Prantarr knew very well how dependent the Delmish people were on his kingdom. He thought carefully about the state of Delmaa and knew its people would not survive for very long without the aid of Prantarr's resources. As king, this decision was difficult, but one he had to make. The king sent out a proclamation that no Prantarrian life would be jeopardized in an effort to venture over the mountains. The dangers were much too great. The king's decision distressed the people of Prantarr as well as himself, but he was sure in his command. Delmaa would now have to survive on its own, without the help of its long-time friend.

Knowing the strength and power of Prantarr, the Delmish people and their king waited anxiously for their neighbor to find a way to reach them. As time passed, their people began to starve. Even the strongest grew weaker and death came from both starvation and disease. Soon the hunger turned to anger and the anger to hatred against their neighbor. The Delmish knew the Prantarrians were aware of what they were going through. The demise of Delmaa was inevitable without their help, yet Prantarr chose to abandon Delmaa rather than aid them, and they soon realized that they were alone. The future now was in their own hands. Their king was tormented over how to help his people. After much consideration, he made his decision. He would form an army that would risk all to travel over the mountains to Prantarr and take from them what they chose not to share with the less fortunate. He assembled all Delmish men who were able to stand and hold a weapon. There were at least thirty thousand men and boys, some as young as thirteen years of age and others aged and close to the end of their lives. Hatred gave each of them renewed strength and courage. All would risk what life they had left and put their fears aside to get what was needed from Prantarr. The wrath of the Delmish people would soon be upon Prantarr. First, however, they had to survive the path leading them to their only hope for survival. Death would come by starvation, war, or of some unknown evil lurking in the mountains. The journey began.

***

Prantarr was bustling with activity the day the Delmish arrived. Many soldiers did not survive the dangerous expedition. The Delmish soldiers never again spoke of their journey once they reached Prantarr, for they now had one thing on their minds-revenge.

The weather that day was warm and sunny, crops were hearty and abundant in the fields, and children laughed and played in the streets. As the Delmish army approached, Prantarr seemed oblivious. The smell of food and the hope for life were now closer than they had been in months. The Delmish first assaulted a market on the outskirts of Prantarr. The clamor of the market rose unthreatened as the men moved toward it. The hope that they could save the lives of their families back home fueled even more hatred among the soldiers who were once traders and friends of this land. One by one, they attacked every Prantarrian they met. They overturned carts and thrust them aside, set homes ablaze, tortured merchants and peddlers, and destroyed entire towns as they marched through the kingdom. It seemed their hunger for vengeance was never satisfied as they rampaged, ransacked and pillaged town after town after town.

The king of Prantarr soon learned of the attacks and called for his army. Prantarrian soldiers set out to stop the carnage. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. The war, which began without a warning, now seemed endless.

Chapter One

The smell of the giant oak door soothed me as I peered through its tiny keyhole. Father and his advisors were sitting around the grand table, discussing very important matters. There was only one thing unusual about it-the empty seat next to my father. My brother Jacobi always sat there from the day he turned thirteen. I always loved to watch his face as he listened intently to the conversations, never saying a word. He looked so serious and so focused, but I could definitely see a light in his eyes and knew that there was no other place he would rather be. Even when he was a child, he knew that all he ever wanted was to be a great king, like Father. Years ago when we would play games in the courtyard, Jacobi was always the wise, brave king, Viktor was the evil king of a foreign land, and I was the beautiful princess that needed rescuing. Our adventures always involved a tower or a dragon and Jacobi was always my hero. Now, Jacobi was a real hero, a knight fighting for Prantarr. There next to Father sat the empty seat awaiting the victory of war and the homecoming of a prince.

"You know, you shouldn't spy on the royal advisory board. It's rude," someone whispered. I leapt two feet in the air and turned to see Viktor silently laughing behind me.

"That was not very funny. You almost scared me to death," I whispered back angrily.

He continued to chuckle.

"Then move over so that I can see, too."

I moved my head down so that he could also see and we watched the rest of the discussion unfold. This was something we did almost every week when the advisory board met. Sometimes, if they started a heated argument, we could hear every word. Mostly, we watched Jacobi and Father, just to see their faces. No one ever saw us there. It wasn't proper for the royal children to eavesdrop around the castle, but Viktor and I would always break the rules for a little excitement. After all, we were not really children anymore; Viktor was almost old enough to become a knight and mother always talked about the day I would marry. That is probably what separated us most from Jacobi, who would never break the rules under any circumstances. That is perhaps why Viktor and I were so close.

The men around the table began to stand up. The meeting was over.

Viktor and I bolted away from the door as fast as we possibly could and ran out to the courtyard. Our escape plan, though, somehow turned into a race toward the stables. We dashed past carts of tapestries and silks, fruits and breads, jewelry, pottery, and anything else you could think of. Mothers with young children, elderly women fondling jewelry, and boys fighting with wooden swords all cleared the way for us, bowing their heads as we darted past.

The stables were just ahead, and Viktor was far behind me. Of course, I reached the stable first, mounted Lia, my horse, and took off toward the fields. Viktor followed, and we raced across the meadow and back. The warm summer sun beat down on my back and my skirts rippled around my legs. I laughed at the sun and the sky. I laughed because, even though the kingdom was at war, nothing had changed between Viktor and me. Nothing would ever change. Eventually, we arrived back at the stables.

"I won!" I shouted, so that Viktor could hear me as he rounded the corner.

"You had a head start," he said, breathless from laughing.

I handed Lia's reigns over to the stable-hand and strolled out to the courtyard. I always loved the chaos, sights, and smells of it.

Suddenly, the hollow sound of a horn echoed from the watchtower. Something was wrong. Viktor ran back toward the palace and I followed, trying desperately to figure out what had happened.

When we arrived in the grand hall, Father was reading a roll of parchment delivered by a squire. Our footsteps echoed off the marble walls. The sunlight that shone through the windows was a blinding white, causing the room to look ashen and wan. Moments later, he solemnly looked up from the letter.

"Cristiana," he said with a wavering voice. "Go to your chambers. I will send for you later."

"Yes, Father." I replied and obediently went to my chamber where I waited for what I knew was going to be awful news, which came to me the next morning. Jacobi was dead. Now Viktor was to succeed Father on the throne, a responsibility he was not prepared for in the least. The news came as a shock to the kingdom because it was Jacobi that had proven himself as the great warrior. The fact that the Delmish army's forces were greater than ever predicted put everyone in a state of fear.

I was distraught. I spent the day in my room weeping. When no more tears came, I sat by my window and watched the sky. I watched how the clouds moved and veiled the sunlight, as though in sadness for a fallen king. The sun, which was once high in the sky, now relocated and seemed to want to hide as evening approached. The shadows of the castle towers seemed to grow and then wane with the light of the sun, and I began to wonder if everything was stimulated by the sun's glow. Maybe our lives were like shadows, growing bigger until the peak of day, then shrinking at nightfall until the end. Suddenly, the horn sounded from the watchtower again. This was the second time in two days. I rushed down to the grand hall.