See author notes for synopsis of the story so far

Chapter 45

Redd-Leif stood in the shadows of a stand of trees that bordered the Summerstorm cottage and watched Lynx emerge from the shrubbery at the opposite side of the glen. Lynx rushed toward a boulder at the glen’s edge. Redd-Leif chuckled. He could imagine the gleam of anticipation in his son’s eyes.

The boulder Lynx had chosen was flat and fairly level. The family often used it for a table when they gathered for parties and archery competitions. Adults liked using it because it was about waist-high. It hit Lynx mid-chest, limiting his use to the area within his reach.

Lynx wiped his hands on his tunic. The smell of moss and leather wafted toward Redd-Leif as he did so. The boy’s hands must have been damp from gathering ammunition from the streambed for the coming activity. Then Lynx pulled the strap that crossed his chest over his head and set the attached pouch on the boulder. He glanced toward the stand of trees, but didn’t notice his father.

Lynx tipped the pouch. A dozen or so stones tumble out. He began arranging them by size, continuing to steal glimpses over his shoulder while he considered each stone in turn.

Redd-Leif started forward. “Hello, Lynx. Are you ready?”

Lynx gave a start and Redd-Leif saw the boy take a breath to steady himself.

“Hi, Papa.” Lynx was obviously resisting the urge to bounce up and down, but the lilt in his voice betrayed his excitement.

Redd-Leif smiled at Lynx’s eagerness. When he reached the boulder, he placed a hand on Lynx’s shoulder. “Let’s see what you have, my boy.”

Lynx took a step back, biting his bottom lip as Papa examined the stones.

Redd-Leif picked up each stone in turn, rubbed it between his fingers and held it up for a closer examination. Occasionally, he pursed his lips, or stole a sideways glance at Lynx.

Lynx was forgetting to blink as he waited.

“Well, Lynx…” Redd-Leif paused.

Lynx held his breath.

“…you’ve done an outstanding job.” He reached into a pouch at his side. “So, as promised, here is your sling.”

Lynx stared at the object in his open palm for several seconds. The woven woolen cords tumbled down each side of his hand as he rubbed the rawhide of the sling pocket with his fingers. Then he yelped and leapt into the air, jumping around for a good fifteen seconds.

Redd-Leif laughed at the antics. “You act like this when you are hunting and you’ll scare the game so far away that sling will be useless.”

“I know, Papa, but I’ve been waiting for so long. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Lynx pulled on the woolen cords to test their strength, then looked up at his father and beamed.

 “Tell me again why you want to be a slinger. You’re proficient with a bow and arrow. Surely, that is enough.”

“No, Papa. I want to be a slinger like you. Good slingers are even quicker and more precise than archers. Ammunition is easier to come by. A sling is easier to carry. Besides, you said you would teach me when I was old enough.”

“And able to handle the weapon responsibly.”

Lynx frowned.

Redd-Leif laughed and reached over to ruffle Lynx’s hair. “Relax. I think you’re ready. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have spent the last week going over the best sizes and shapes of stones to use and then spent time searching for some. I see you remembered that streambeds offer some of the finest choices because of the shapes and smoothness of the rocks found there.” He paused for a moment and added, “Do you think you can calm down long enough to learn how to load stones into that thing?”

Lynx nodded vigorously. “Yes, Papa.”

“Very well. Let’s begin with stationary targets.”

Redd-Leif spent several minutes demonstrating how to load, aim, and cast with his own sling. When he was ready to show Lynx how to hold the sling, Lynx already had the finger loop of one cord over his middle finger and was holding the knot of the other cord between his thumb and index finger.

Redd-Leif raised an approving eyebrow. “Looks like someone has been studying already.”

Lynx grinned. “I can concentrate when it’s hunting.”

During the next few minutes, Lynx made his first attempts at casting. The stones didn’t come near to hitting the mark and several went wild.

Lynx grimaced. “Sorry, Papa.”

“You are doing fine, my boy. It takes practice, and more practice, and then some more practice. Remember, it took time with the bow and arrow. Be patient with yourself.”

Lynx loaded a stone into the projectile pocket, took a breath, and placed his feet in stance to cast his next projectile.

The hair on the back of Redd-Leif’s neck suddenly stood on end.

“Papa?”

Redd-Leif put up a hand to indicate silence. He gazed off into the distance and sniffed the air.

“It feels strange, Papa. What is it?”

“A new magic. And…” He paused for a moment to soak in the new magic, analyzing it. Then he looked back at Lynx. “I want you to head to the cottage.”

“Is it dangerous, Papa?”

“New doesn’t necessarily mean dangerous, just different. I’d like to investigate.”

“Can I go with you?”

Redd-Leif smiled down at his son. “It’s probably nothing and I need you to let your mother know what I’m doing. Now, go. Tell your mother I’ll be back shortly.”

Lynx sighed. “Yes, Papa.” He shuffled toward the cottage.

“And Lynx. We’ll continue the lesson as soon as I get back.”

Lynx beamed. “Thank you, Papa.” Then he took off at a quick jog.

Redd-Leif watched his son disappear into the cottage before he turned and sprang toward the source of the new magic. Ignoring the established trails, he let his senses draw him through the forest vegetation, moving swiftly and silently. The magic itself didn’t seem dangerous, just extremely animated. But there was something more. An element of music. A minor key. Discordant. Threatening.

A chill went down Redd-Leif's spine. Magic and music. That could only mean Piper.