Tales of the Three Kingdoms: Silver Falcon Falls

"Sparrow?" I could almost feel Flashammer's eyes upon me, as he spied what I had seen and rode up along the column.

I did not – could not – pull my eyes away from Iron Tower. Nor could I form the words to acknowledge his implicit question.

I could almost feel River's eyes find me, too, as her laughter faded away, and Little Ang went silent at his mother's change in mood.

Iron Tower's walls were singularly strong, encircling the town of the same name and sheathed in iron forged by an ancient Mandate from a long forgotten progenitor of the clan. The town was impervious to fire. As far as I knew, there was no force in the Land Under Heaven that could break through its fortifications. But here they were, the walls of Iron Tower, broken.

There were huge rents in the iron, holes blasted through metal and packed-earth alike to cast rubble into the town beyond for dozens of span that still had enough impetus to collapse buildings within. The tower itself creaked and screeched with each gust of wind, huge chunks blown through its base to compromise its integrity.

It was as if a hail of meteors had come from one direction, and sure enough there were several boulders that had not managed to puncture the walls, stone lodged deep within the dented walls of iron, or halfway up the tower, where they had embedded themselves. Within the town itself – I could see through the rents – flies buzzed around bloated corpses. Buildings were burnt out and several parts of the tower itself were scorched and warped by the heat. Nothing was smoking any longer.

"Sparrow…" That was River.

I didn't hear the rest of what she said, because I had leapt from the cartbed, and thrown myself up into Windshear's saddle. Then I was flying across the plains and through the metal gate tilting on its hinges.

There were only a few concentric circles of houses around the tower, for essential workers, and tower staff and the families of the year-round soldiery. Now those houses lay empty and mouldering, some of them blackened or missing entirely like a dock-brawler's teeth.

Windshear skidded to a stop before the tower itself, the screeching of the strained metal almost deafening now as the wind picked up.

I hadn't worn a sword in three weeks, but the Youngest Brother Blade was there, tucked into Windshear's saddle as I dismounted and I drew the knife without caring to take the scabbard.

I found the first bodies in the entranceway, taken from behind as they waited for the enemy to come pouring in the narrow door that was the only entranceway to the tower. I would have assumed betrayal, had there not been a gaping hole through a passage just off to the side, a boulder lodged in an interior wall where it had come to rest after accomplishing its goal of creating a second opening for the raiders to rush through.

I was assuming raiders at this point, but couldn't be sure.

The fighting had stretched into the receiving room, toward the iron chair atop a dais that served the same function as the throne of the Silver Falcon clan, the literal seat of the Imperial province that had been called the Plains of the Falcon long before my family had held them. That seat was empty, of both corpses or usurpers. Whoever had taken the tower had no interest in ruling from here; they had either taken what they wanted or they had killed who they had come for.

I ran up the stairs despite the tower's protest, going from room to room. I recognized every body despite what looked to be a few weeks decay, left where they had fallen and given no dignity in death. At this point I was assuming everyone I knew within Iron Tower was dead. So to see the macabre faces of loyal retainers and the maids or instructors who had basically raised me was no great surprise.

I did however stop over one body. At first I thought it just a passing warrior of great enough rank to be afforded hospitality in my father's own home. But just as I turned to leave the guest room, something struck me. The corpse seemed halfway dressed in Silver Falcon clan armor. He had never finished preparing for battle. The armor along with the pendant around his neck painted an interesting picture.

Mistrider

RANK 7: Distinguished Knight

WORTH: 350 dan

CLAN: Silver Falcon | STAR: Silver | FATE: Water-Sky "Arriving Unseen"

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MANDATE: Obscuring Mistbank

This corpse had been a member of the Silver Falcon clan. Not merely a retainer with that armor, a true member of the family. I turned the rigid corpse toward me so that I could see what was left of its features. Even after weeks of dessication, I thought I recognized them. They were older now, more refined and hardened compared to last time I had seen them, the wisps of a still beard growing from the dried out flesh. This was my youngest brother Bin. He had finally manifested a Mandate. Who knows what he had fought through or struggled against in order to make his way home? All for nought, as it turned out, as he was slaughtered in the honored guest's chambers, before my father could even send word to me of his arrival.

I placed his head gently back to the floor. I had always worried that my brothers would prove Mandates and supplant me. I had felt competitive toward them, even feared them, at times. But I never wished this upon either of them. De was still missing after the upheaval in Trappersburrow, following Dreadwolf's seizing of power, and now the body of Bin lay behind me.

There was one more room to check, and my heart sank as I approached. Scorch-marks lapped up on either side of the door leading to my father's chambers. The iron door had been torn off its hinges and lay in a crumpled heap a few feet within. The room itself was nothing but ash and char, and a few pieces of wood that hadn't burned away completely – probably bedposts, or the beams of Commandant's armor cabinet. What had once been a solid wall of iron, with small, strategic windows overlooking the plains, was now a gaping, jagged hole the size of an ox. The wind whistled angrily as I leaned out and over the precipice. Nothing but debris and twisted iron in the courtyard far below.

I stepped back inside and a thought flickered across my mind, which ignited a glimmer of hope. The bedposts hadn't burned away, but still there was no evidence of human remains here. Whoever had assaulted Iron Tower hadn't wanted to face my father's Mandate, even in his old age, so they had blown a hole in his bedchamber and called it a day.

Perhaps they had assumed him dead, and he had slipped away after that. My father was honorable, not stupid. He was not above a tactical retreat. But where would he…

My heart sank. I knew where my father would go if the tower were compromised.

Three levels down from the top layer of Iron Tower, there was a nursery in which I was raised. Bin, De and myself were all raised in that nursery, alongside a dozen other children of soldiers or ministers within the tower. A small servants' room attached to that nursery for the woman who had raised two generations of Silver Falcons. I don't know when the affair between the Lord of Iron Tower and the nursemaid began. Perhaps she had consoled him after the death of my mother. Perhaps the cold concubine that was the mother of Bin and De had driven my father to seek comfort in a kinder sort of woman. It had even been whispered, after the affair had come out into the open, that the woman called Silverwing had held my father's heart from the first, and it was only his duty to his clan that kept him from following it to her before their twilight years.

In any case, I found them both dead in each others' arms, just outside the privy of all places. I looked through the hole of the toilet, and saw that the metal pipe – a feature exclusive to Iron Tower, where there was no shortage of metal or gifted metalworkers – was indeed wide enough for someone to slide down. There was a light far below that probably led to a pigsty or a fertilizer collection pit.

In any case, the two aged lovers had chosen dignified death over such a degrading tactic. My guess was that my father would have done anything to keep the hopes of the Silver Falcon clan alive, or protect the ones he loved. My guess was that it was Silverwing who had decided it was time to stop hiding. One of my father's swords remained sheathed at his hip. He had used his last moments to hold the woman called Silverwing, rather than continue a hopeless fight.

The cold iron Commandant had chosen love over honor in his last moments, in contrast to the rest of his life. Maybe that should have been a sign. Maybe I should have taken his last act for what it was worth, and learned from it.

But I didn't.

I heard silken slippers slide on the ground behind me. "You're bleeding," said River.

I looked down at my side. My mad ride to the tower had indeed opened up the stitches in my side and along my forearm. Blood was seeping through my silver robes in more than one place.

"Who…"

"Sparrow-" River began.

"WHOSE MANDATE COULD DO THIS?"

I turned to find that my five officers all crowded the doorway to the nursery and the hallway beyond.

No one spoke as my gaze raked over them. Now I knew why the villagers hadn't met my eye. Hoping that I wouldn't come back, they had turned rebel. They had turned against my aging father and their rightful lord, and supported the first blow-hard who could bring down Iron Tower.

"Round up the villagers," I snapped. "I want them questioned."

"Sparrow." That was Flashammer, though I barely recognized faces or voices in my throbbing fury. "Are you sure?" He asked.

My gaze shot toward him. He wouldn't meet my eye, but turned toward his brother, Tongs, who shrugged.

Windstopper looked questioningly toward River, who patted the burly bodyguard on the shoulder, and led him away.

I looked to Sheriff, who looked at me for a long time, no doubt weighing me with clear, emotionless eyes. At length, he nodded and turned to go about the ugly business I had ordered. He paused before the end of the hallway and half turned. "Where do you want me to bring them?"

It took me a moment to decide, but when I did, it felt right. It felt right, I realized, because I hadn't reasoned it out with my mind, but felt it in my gut, the way Uncle said I should.

"Bring them before the throne."