The White Falcon

A strong wind whipped the rain into the old witch’s face. She waited, patiently, in the thick forest underbrush. The witch was wet and shivering, but her heart was warm with the knowledge that her plans were finally coming to fruition. Tonight she would know if this child was the one; the one that would be proclaimed heir to the throne of Giervalk. She heard a cry of pain from inside the cottage, smiled, and pulled back into the shadows. Inside the cottage echoed an ever changing symphony of plinks and plunks. Buckets, bowls and cups caught drops of rain that leaked through the old thatched roof. Zelda, the nursemaid, picked up a cloth to wipe Lady Jessica’s forehead. “It is terrible that our new king must be born in this swamp!” Zelda squawked. She jumped to her left to avoid a newly formed leak. Zelda was tall and thin with a sharply pointed nose. Her every move was twitchy, and the high pitched screech of her voice put many on edge. Her husband, Grizwald, was mostly her opposite. A burly man with a deep baritone voice, his moves were calm and purposeful. He had been the Giervalk family doctor for a majority of his eighty-eight years. His father and grandfather had also been doctors for the Giervalk family. Medicine was in his blood. Grizwald chided Zelda, “You must not jump to conclusions, my dear. We can only hope this baby will be our new king.” He was able to quell his anticipation. He and Zelda had been in this same situation many times before. With the arrival of each first-born Giervalk child, they hoped that the Oracles prophecy would be fulfilled, but sadly, each son had arrived without the mark. Now, with renewed hope, the inhabitants of the valley and surrounding hills prayed for the miracle they desperately wanted; needed. “Remember, the prophecy has yet to be fulfilled,” said Grizwald. “If this child does not have the mark—” “Stop! Do not say it! I cannot bear to wait another generation,” Zelda begged. “I feel it this time. I feel it in my bones. This child is the one.” Grizwald walked to the fireplace, placed another log on the crackling fire then removed a pot of boiling water. Carefully, he washed and arranged the tools of his trade: knives, needles, herbs, and potions. He knelt and silently prayed that this baby would save them from the darkness that was devouring the land. While praying, his mind wandered. Even if this child was the marked one, their waiting was not over. They would need to hide him from Malik and prepare the young king for a battle against the dark one. The Oracle foretold that on the eve of the marked one’s eighteenth year, he would lead them. The inhabitants of Giervalk hoped this meant that this first-born son of Giervalk would help them defeat Malik and restore peace and light to this damp, dark, forsaken land. Grizwald longed for the sun to once again shine on green fields. Birds would chirp songs of happiness, and bombus fairies would flit from flower to flower. He was not one to be soft. But he desperately missed the beauty he enjoyed as a young boy, a beauty that had been stolen from them long ago. A moan from Lady Jessica jarred Grizwald back to reality and he shivered. Despite the nearby fire, he felt chilled to the bone. He stood up, shook off the dreams of his youth and walked back to his lord’s wife. He too was eager to see if this small unborn child would be the one to save them all. Lord Aaron and his most trusted warriors rode their horses hard and fast, pressing against the cold wind. He pushed his unruly, black hair out of his eyes and squinted to see through the sheets of rain. It had been coming down for hours. The normally muddy pathways had turned into treacherous creeks. Mud splattered the men and their horses, but none of them seemed to notice. They all had but one thought racing through their minds; please be the one, please fulfill the prophecy. Sir Zachary followed closely behind Lord Aaron. His eyes darted left then right. He scanned the woods that surrounded them. His job as a healer was to ensure Lord Aaron’s safety. They had been friends since they were boys, and over the years they had fought side by side in many battles. Sir Zachary could not think of a better leader or friend. Today the men had fought hard in battle and some had been injured. They were fortunate to have a healer as talented as Sir Zachary. He relieved the pain and healed their wounds. But the loss of blood had been significant, and only time would completely restore their energy. When a messenger delivered the news that Lady Jessica was in labor, the men felt renewed. Their excitement filled the air. Lord Aaron could sense their joy and anticipation. Yet his focus remained on reaching his wife; his beautiful, thoughtful, patient Jessica. When Lord Aaron closed his eyes, he could picture her smiling face and gentle, golden-brown eyes. Jessica put up with his endless nights away and he missed her dearly. But it was his duty to be with his men on the battlefield. He would not ask them to fight while he stood back safely watching and waiting. Lord Aaron had watched most of them grow from young boys to the brave battle hardened men who fought at his side. His army’s sole job was to keep Malik’s grotesque creatures of the night out of the Valley of Giervalk. The valley was a small sanctuary that Lord Aaron and his warriors protected. On most days the valley was blanketed in a dark and dreary layer of clouds and mist. No matter its condition, the valley was home. It was where they raised their children, said their prayers and laid their heads to rest. They would, without question, protect the valley with their very lives. The pain ripped through Jessica’s belly. She swore it felt like the child was trying to claw its way out. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. “Push Lady Jessica, push! This is going to be it. Just one last push,” urged Zelda. “I cannot!” Jessica fell back against the pillow exhausted. Sweat matted her curly flaxen hair against her face. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. The next contraction came so fast it caught her off guard. She groaned deeply. “Your baby is almost here. Push—push now!” Despite the pain and exhaustion Lady Jessica lunged and bore down with all her might. She fell back against the bed and fought against the temptation to submit to the exhaustion that threatened to take her. As if from a distance she could hear Zelda warble with excitement, “It is a boy Lady Jessica! It is a boy!” She heard the cry of her baby, her son. She smiled. Proud she had given her husband the son he had prayed for. “Please let him have the mark. Please let him have the mark,” she quietly chanted before she surrendered to sleep. Zelda wiped the baby’s skin with a warm damp cloth, wrapped him in a blanket, and handed the small bundle to Grizwald. He pulled the baby close to his chest and walked toward the warmth and light of the fireplace where he would prepare the newborn for the naming ceremony. Outside the old witch crept forward from her place of hiding and peered through the murky window. The old man leaned over the crying baby searching for something; she assumed the mark. His wife tended to the exhausted mother. The witch was growing impatient. Eventually the old man brought the squirming bundle back to its mother. The old witch strained to hear him above the raging storm. “I give to you your son. Born this night into the house of Giervalk,” he announced in a loud booming voice. “He, who you have named Gabriel, has the mark and will be heir to the throne.” Outside, the witch smiled. Zelda let out the breath she had been holding for generations. She was suddenly dizzy with relief and knelt down next to Lady Jessica. “You did it, Lady Jessica. You did it. We have been saved!”