The Raven King
E.J. McCracken
Copyright E.J. McCracken 2012
Published by Black Rose Writing, Publishing at Smashwords
Black Rose Writing
* * * * *
© 2012 by E.J. McCracken
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First digital version
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN: 978-1-61296-083-8
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
Print edition produced in the United States of America
* * * * *
To Lisa,
whose honesty keeps me sane.
* * * * *
1
When their world ended, there was only silence. The boy and the girl stared at each other in wonder. Behind them, smoke rose fleetingly into the pale blue sky.
They stood in a battlefield, or what was left of one, and the smoke still plumed from its wreckage. A city lay before them, torn to its foundations. The skeleton of a guard tower loomed just overhead. Its stone walls shot into the sky, rising forty feet before ending in a jagged platform. Just below its peak, metal hooks protruded from the stone. They curved upwards, as if praying to the Gods for their delivery. One of them was bent over, straining against the weight it supported. A body, newly dead, dangled in the breeze.
Rubble shifted beneath their feet. The girl picked her way between the remains of smoldering chariots, dodging the various swords that lay forgotten on the ground. Her black hair wavered in the smoke as she worked her way towards the center of the devastation. Death was everywhere.
She came to the last defense the city had offered, a river, still churning from the chaos. Its silted waters slapped against the banks, and her reflection was quickly torn apart. She watched as her pale face disintegrated into murky blackness.
Except that the water wasn’t black. Not totally: something white flickered in the shadows of the bank. The waves rolled it against the mud, crashing it against the melting shore. She bent down, her fingers hesitating before entering the water. Her heart tremored, and she bit her lip. She had reason to fear.
She shook the thought aside, plunging her hand into the icy water. The object was small and metallic, and as she pulled it dripping from the water, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. The locket glistened in her open palm.
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, even though she knew its mechanisms by heart. She had once had one like it, small, intricately carved, and delicate. Arie had told her that it was made by the elves, but she hadn’t believed him. Not then. Now, gazing at the pictures inside, she wasn’t sure. The ink was blurred, but the woman was most definitely elven.
She gasped, prepared to hurl the locket back into the river. It was only her brother’s memory that stopped her. She paused, fingering the delicate chain.
The locket was elven. That much was certain, and if the locket was elven, than the city had to be, too. No other species would harbor such a creature. She glanced over her shoulder, opening her mouth to call for the boy. They need to leave, and soon. The humans could be back at any moment.
Her words came out in a soft whisper. She didn’t want to leave, not really, not after all she had been through. Where would she go? The Clan was lost to her now, only a distant memory, far off in the underground tunnels. They would never accept her back, not with Isen still as king.
She watched as the boy stumbled towards her, his face caked with dirt and exhaustion. If she looked closely enough, she could still detect hints of his golden hair beneath the grime. He looked like his father, and sight made her shudder against the breeze. She thought she had escaped Isen once and for all, but now it seemed that he was following her in the form of her best friend.
She shrugged, sucking in a deep breath before turning back to the locket. He’s not his father, she reminded herself. He’s not Isen, no matter how much he looks like him. She peeked over the edge of her cupped hands. The boy grinned back, and she felt a smile warming her lips. They were alone in Ivindor, but they were alone together.
Her fingers traced the edges of the locket a moment longer. Then she threw the chain over her neck, letting her cloak swallow the silver pendent. The locket wasn’t hers, but it felt like it should have been. Her own locket was gone, left behind in the Clan, and with it had disappeared her last vestiges of Arie.
She crunched through a shattered shield, kicking aside the jagged pieces of metal. A plank bridged the chaotic river, and she stepped out onto the wood, her imagination filling the silent air with the screams of the raid. The humans must have been powerful, to overcome a city of elves. A torrent of ghost arrows whistled past.
The opposite bank had seen the worst of the plundering, and the girl strolled among the mess, peering into the huts that guarded the waterway. All were empty. Walls had crumbled to the earth, and animal pens hung open and vacant. Footprints trampled the blood soaked soil, dancing out the last flight of the villagers. A few feet further on, the first body appeared.
She gulped back the bile that rose to her throat. This wasn’t some ordinary raid. In the Clan, other tribes were attacked all the time, but no one was ever killed. Not even when Isen took the throne, and began his reign of terror. Killing angered the Gods.
She bit her lip, tasting the sweet slipperiness of blood. The stuff was everywhere: in the water, in the ground, rising in steam from the bodies. Why the elves? She didn’t understand it. What did the elves do wrong?
“Alina!” The voice was harsh in the still air. She whirled to face the boy, his face flushed red with excitement. He motioned for her to join him. “There’s something here.”
Her pace quickened. She dashed down the narrow lane, past the boy, and into a small courtyard. The garden gate swung lazily on its hinges, creaking as she pushed through it. The boy followed her, his face now grim. He pointed at a small hut.
She paused just outside the door, listening. The humans seemed to be gone, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. She couldn’t afford a struggle.
A whimper. She froze, the color draining from her face. Not now. Gods. Please. She glanced questioningly at the boy, but he shook his head. No, he had not been in the hut. He had no idea what was in there, and the worry on his face warned Alina. She shook her head. We can’t just walk away.
She pushed the door open. Inside, the dark air trembled with dust. The soft outlines of furniture, a rug lying motionless on the floor: all seemed ordinary, as if the house was totally removed from the bloodshed outside. She moved in, ducking her head to avoid the low archway. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light rapidly. In the corner, a figure was huddled.
Careful, now. Alina reached for her cooking knife. Holding it out in front of her, she crept forward. The figure shifted, and she raised the blade high above her head. “Who’s there?”
The whimper came again, louder. She leaned over the figure, staring down at its still form. A face looked up at her, black hair mussed and crisp with blood. A child!
Hastily, she shoved the knife back into her belt. She knelt beside the boy. He was perhaps twelve years of age, skinny, with a waxy complexion that could only result from extreme pain. Several layers of rags were pressed to a wound on his stomach. Even in the gloom, she could see the blood seeping through. He groaned. “Please…”
“Hush,” she murmured, leaning down. His face slid into a patch of light, leaving his delicate features to fall victim to the sun. Her heart went out to this boy, and as she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel moved by the need to help. She peeled away the bandages, blanching at the sight of the hole gaping in his side. She pressed the rags back in place. Alina had never learned the healing arts—women of the Clan weren’t allowed to, but she could see that this wound was far beyond even the most skilled help.
She heard Carn kneel beside her. The boy had clung to her side ever since they had been exiled from the Clan, and now his ragged breathing filled her ears.
“Alive?” He reached for the bandages, but she slapped his hand back. “Gods.” He pulled Alina out of the hut.
They huddled in the garden outside. A few dead flowers poked up out of the weeds. The stalks waved in the breeze.
“Elven.” He put his hand on Alina’s shoulder. “We can’t stay here, not if this was a city of elves. Some one’s bound to come along. You can see the smoke for miles.”
Their eyes met. Indeed, the smoke did spiral high into the air. It was what had attracted them in the first place. At the time, they had thought it to be a cooking fire. Only later did they realize that it was much, much larger.
Alina nodded, not convinced. In the three days since they had left the Clan, she had learned to fear the world. She had reason to fear.
If the boy was an elf, then there was nothing Alina could do for him. In the past few days she had learned a lot about the ways of the world. The elves and the humans were to be left alone, to deal with each other as they wished. This was how it was done; yet Alina still felt a pang of remorse.
“We can’t leave him here,” she whispered. “He’s just a boy. Our age.”
Carn grimaced. “He’s beyond help.”
Alina glanced back at the hut. Even from here, she could hear the boy moaning. “He’ll die without us.” It was merely a statement to fill the air. Even with their help, Alina knew that the boy would soon be gone. He was an elf, and that was that. “There’s got to be someone around here who’s friendly, someone who can help. Like you said: someone will see the smoke.” She glanced at Carn, who nodded. Simultaneously, they turned towards the gate.
Carn led the way out of the garden. A cobbled street opened at their feet, and they followed it cautiously, picking their way through the debris. They came into a square, its wide expanse gaping before them.
A row of stalls lined one side. Alina walked along them, staring at the broken shelves. Fruit lay spoiled where it had fallen, lying beneath the chunks of meat that hung tattered from hooks in the ceilings. Fragments of clay bowls crunched under foot. Against the backdrop of the city, her features were accentuated. Life underground had taken its toll on the race of the coremen, and her bony frame barely reached five feet in height. She kicked at a basket of fruit.
“It’s almost as if they weren’t expecting it.” She turned to Carn. “Like they knew whoever did this.”
“The humans?” Carn wavered. He staggered after his friend, shell-shocked. Too much had happened in the last few days.
“Who else?” Alina glanced at him. Carn had given up so much for her. He had been heir to the chief of the Clan, set to come to power at his father, Isen’s, death. The jewels he could have inherited! The golden crown that would have adorned his brow, the worship the Clan would have paid him! But he had never been one for riches or glory. And for that, Alina envied him. Born poor, she was destined to long for the throne.
And the Clan! Not only had they left behind a chance at a good life, but they had also left behind their families. Alina’s mother and twin brothers… She even missed Isen, for all that he hated her.
He had no reason to punish me like that! She bit her lip. The leader had always been disgusted at her presence, and Carn’s friendship with her had not helped matters. The leader probably would have banished her anyway, even if her brother hadn’t intervened. She shuddered. Arie’s death had opened a range of possibilities.
They entered the outskirts of the city. Here, there was less evidence of the battle. Fewer bodies littered the ground, and half of the huts they came across were untouched. Carn lagged behind her, throwing open the doors.
“Just making sure.”
Up ahead, a tree hugged the earth to its fallen side. Alina settled on its slick surface. The bark tugged at her shapeless wrap, and she pulled her cloak more firmly around her shoulders. She waited as Carn sat down beside her.
“We need to go back.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “To the Clan. We can’t stay out here forever, not with this war.”
“Are you crazy?” Carn looked ready to slap her. “We can’t go back, Alina. Not after what your brother did.”
“Arie…” She grimaced. “It wasn’t my fault that he was caught!”
Carn licked his lips. “Caught during an assassination attempt? Do you really think Father was going to let you get away while Arie hanged?”
“I hardly ever saw Arie. And why are you complaining? If he succeeded, you would have been king.”
They were silent for a time, staring out at the landscape. Carn had spotted the smoke the day before, and had suggested that they make their way towards it. There hadn’t been anything else to do at the time.
Eventually, they rose to their feet. They had found no other survivors, no one to help them with the boy. He’s on his own. She felt a pang of fear for the child they had left behind, writhing in pain and alone in the world. But there’s nothing we can do.
She led the way out, picking her way back through the market square. She crossed the narrow footbridge over the river, and soon they were beyond the guard towers. She tried not to look back at the smoldering ruins behind her. Instead, she turned her attention to the wide road that snaked away from the city. Paved with flat stones, it was wide enough for two carts to walk abreast. It followed the river on its course downhill, weaving between farmhouses and water wheels.
On the edge of the horizon, she spotted another plume of smoke. This one was smaller than the one that rose from the city, but it was black with ash. At its base, she could just make out the vibrant red of leaping flames.
She quickened her pace. Beside her, Carn broke into a run. Alina hardly had time to think; she leapt to keep up with her friend. Together, they ran towards the smoke.
As they neared it, Alina slowed. A nagging worry tugged at the edge of her mind, and she reached out to catch Carn’s arm. “That fire hasn’t been burning for very long. How do we know that they’ve left?”
Carn understood immediately. He crouched on the ground, scanning the section of road intensely. Nothing moved; even the birds were still in the trees. The air was thick with silence, and with the smell of smoke. Long grass waved on the side of the road. The source of the smoke was hidden behind its weave.
They crept forward, hands scraping at the stone as they pressed themselves against the road. Alina inched slowly ahead of Carn. She slipped onto the shoulder of the road and slowly peeled the grass back. With Carn breathing over her shoulder, she peered into the scene beyond.
A house, or at least the frame of it, was just beginning to crackle under the flames. Alina could feel the heat radiating onto her angled face, even though they were a good distance away, and upwind. The door of the house hung crookedly on its hinges. Before it, a porch swayed under the weight of an old rocking chair. A blanket was crumpled at its feet, like the occupant had been dragged away from the comforts of a nap.
A sudden crunch of footsteps sent them sprawling on the ground. Someone, or something, was emerging from behind the house. Alina’s breath caught in her throat.
There was flash of dark metal. Two men emerged, each dressed in full plate armor. The metal clanked as they walked, and must have been remarkably heavy, but this was not what held Alina’s attention. The armor was the darkest of all blacks. It was the color of the night sky, once all of the stars had been extinguished. It was the color of a dungeon that has seen no light. She thought she could see death itself staring back at her from its depths.
One of the men led his companion into the space beyond the house. A deep purple cloak flapped at his ankles as he walked. With one swift motion, he tugged the helmet off of his head. Flaming red hair gave way to a full-throated beard. “No survivors?”
A flood of relief washed over Alina. These people were trying to help! She moved to get up, but Carn grabbed her arm. He yanked her back to the ground. “Wait,” he hissed.
She turned her attention back to the two men. The second man had removed his helmet as well. He frowned. “Not that I saw.”
“We should be certain.” The red haired man tapped his sword hilt lightly. It hung at his waist, unsheathed. The blade gleamed red in the light of the fire.
The second man nodded. “The rest of the men have returned to camp. But I’ll sweep the city.”
“They’re lazy; you are not. I value your service.” He jammed his helmet over the mass of fiery hair. His sword clanged against his armor as he stepped away from the house.
Alina caught Carn’s eye. There was something not quite right about these two men, something she hadn’t noticed right away. She was glad that Carn had kept her from greeting them. She turned and began to follow the men back towards the city.
They passed through the gates without incident and continued on towards the heart of the city. The men marched through the market place. They showed no particular interest in the bodies that scattered the main street.
Coming to an intersection, they turned onto a side road. Alina and Carn crept around the corner. Alina’s breath was coming fast and ragged now; she could feel her heart beginning to flutter with panic. She could only hope that the men weren’t able to hear its pounding.
They continued up the side street for a ways. With a start, Alina realized that the street was familiar. She and Carn had walked up this same road only minutes before. Off to the right, she spotted the run-down hut where she had found the boy. Holding her breath, she hoped that he would keep quiet.
A single, screeching moan echoed from its depths. Alina’s heart sank. She watched as the men stopped. The red haired man fingered his sword. “Better check that,” he said.
The second man swung open the garden gate. He waited for the other to step through before latching it neatly behind them. Only then did he turn to enter the hut.
“Ah, yes. We’ve got a live one.” His voice sounded strained, as if he were lifting something heavy. The moaning grew louder, and more intense.
The man emerged with the boy half slung over his shoulder. He threw him to the ground at the other man’s feet.
“You know what to do.” The red haired man had pulled off his helmet again. His nose wrinkled, as if he were regarding something faintly disgusting.
The other man nodded. “I just thought, since you were here, you might want to—”
“Very well.” In a single motion, he whipped his sword from its place in his belt. He raised it high above the boy’s head. The sword flashed, and blood spurted forth.
Alina gulped. She tasted bile in the back of her mouth, and worked desperately to keep it down. Her entire body was trembling. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes.
“Come on.” Carn grabbed her hand. He began to crawl back up the street. Alina followed, not daring to look back at the scene in front of the shed. When they reached the corner, they broke into a run.
They wandered downstream of the city, following the water as it meandered towards a larger river. Birds flitted along the banks. An occasional deer spooked as they crossed a meadow, but for the most part, Alina and Carn were alone. They walked quickly, glad to be away from the horrors of the city.
Towards noon, the high grasslands morphed into the thin forest of the riverbank. Huckleberry bushes and salal scratched at their legs. Oregon grape, just baring the first of its yellow flowers, pushed through the undergrowth, coming to a head at the base of vine maples and aspen. The sound of the river rushing between rocks could be heard over the tweets of golden finches. The stream hastened onwards.
Alina stepped into the icy water, biting her teeth against the cold. Wading through the brush was too much work to sustain for long, though traveling by stream was not without its ill effects. Between her scratches and thorny scars, Alina’s legs quickly turned red. Her feet went numb. Behind her, Carn gasped as he slipped into an eddy, splashing cold water onto his tunic.
The stream deepened. Alina kept to the shallows near the bank, but when the water curved, even this area was fraught with unseen pits. By the time the stream crashed into the waters of the river, both Alina and Carn were soaking.
Carn stepped up onto the bank. He held out his hand to Alina, pulling her up as well. In front of them, the river water boiled against the incoming stream. Huge boulders clashed with the forces of the water, and the spray misted their faces. Alina frowned. She glanced downstream, where the brush of the forest lightened. Eventually, taking that path would lead them back into the meadows. It was also easier for traveling. But we’re more likely to meet someone if we go that way.
She turned upstream. Fallen trees sprawled in the beds of emerald plants, their branches sticking up at odd angles. Blackberry vines crept up the remaining trees. Alina glanced at Carn. He shrugged. Either way, they were on their own.
It wasn’t until the sun began to sink in the sky that Alina felt the first pangs of hunger. Her two-day fast came to a head in an instant. Water had been plentiful, but she hadn’t thought about food until now. Her stomach grumbled.
She scanned the multitude of plants at her feet. She recognized none of them. In the Clan, they had eaten only the meat that the men caught near the earth’s surface, small voles and the occasional badger. Vegetation had been a rarity. Sometimes the women would find plant tubers, and when the Clan emerged from their tunnels in the fall, they would gather fallen apples and other fruits. Alina hadn’t tasted anything green in years.
This posed a major problem for Alina as she prowled the forest. There was plenty to eat, like the little red berries that hung from the plants with square stems, but she had no way of knowing if they were edible. She reached out and plucked one. Its tart taste sent her reeling back. She spat the berry into the water near her feet.
Carn could hunt, if only he had a weapon to hunt with. A multitude of small birds and rabbits clung to life in the forest, and as they walked, the animals darted into hiding. She watched Carn tense as each animal appeared. “You could trap them,” she suggested.
Carn shook his head. “Only if we stayed put.”
Alina bit her lip. Stopping for a few days was a possibility, and it would allow them to catch their breath and regain their strength. It seemed like a good idea, if they weren’t so close to the destroyed city.
“No one’s going to come looking for us,” Carn said, watching her consider the options. “Those men didn’t see us, I’m sure of it.”
“And if they did?”
Carn grinned. “Can you imagine that man walking this far? He must have weighed as much as a horse!”
Alina’s eyes brightened. She laughed. “More like a rhino, with all that armor.” She inspected the landscape. “I guess we could stay.”
Carn beamed. He bounded ahead, snatching up a long stick as he went. A suitable bush came into view, and he approached it cautiously, the branch held before him like a sword. He delivered a hacking blow to the side of the bush.
Alina snorted with laughter. She grabbed her own makeshift sword and swung it at Carn. He blocked her blow, letting the sticks clatter together. “Not so fast, Guard!”
“What am I guarding?” Alina spun. Suddenly, she lunged forward. Carn’s sword dropped, and for a moment, he was unprotected. She lightly tapped his chest. “Gotcha.”
Carn was not to be deterred. He sprung forward. “Just a scratch!” His stick caught on Alina’s tip, and with a quick flick of the wrist, he sent both sticks flying. “Who’s the master now?”
Alina’s smile faltered. The boy’s moan of pain seemed to echo in the branches of the trees. “It’s so easy to kill.”
Carn sensed the mood change instantly. He let his play sword lie where it had fallen, instead putting a comforting hand on Alina’s shoulder. “There was nothing we could do, you know.”
Alina’s voice was halting. “If we had shown ourselves… Maybe we could have stopped them.”
“Are you kidding? We would have been killed, too. You saw that man—he didn’t care about life. Killing was easy.”
“Still.” She stepped over a rotting log. “I don’t think I could do it.”
“Well,” Carn smiled, “Let’s hope you never need to. Come on, though. We’re free; we’re safe. Let’s find a place to set up camp.”
Alina nodded. She pushed the thought away, turning to follow Carn as he tromped through the undergrowth. They found a clearing to rest in for the night, and in the morning, Carn promised to cook rabbit stew.
2
When they went to check the traps the next morning, they found nothing. Alina stared at the place in the undergrowth. There was no trace of the thong snare. It was like it had disappeared off the planet.
“I swear… This is the place,” Carn said. He circled away from Alina, kicking at the plants. “Maybe I made a mistake,” he admitted when he returned from his search empty handed. “But I really thought—”
“Could a rabbit have run off with it?” Alina asked. She bit back the hunger that was rising in her throat. “You know, broken the anchor?”
Carn shook his head. Silently, he led the way back to the clearing where they had spent the night. Alina followed him. She knew better than to ask about the other snares.
Their clearing still smelled strongly of wood smoke. Alina hadn’t wanted to light the fire, but Carn had insisted, saying that it would keep the wild animals at bay. Alina had finally given in. The prospect of sleeping without a fire was too much to face.
Now, as she scattered the ashes in the forest, she regretted her weakness. It would be so easy to track us, she thought. Those snares didn’t just vanish. A branch cracked to her right. She spun, just in time to see a raven flap away. I’m being silly. No one else is here.
She broke a branch from a nearby tree. The sap was sticky on her hands, but she stripped the wood of its remaining twigs anyway. She bent and used the stick to stir the bed of leaves where they had slept. The imprints of their sleeping forms evaporated into a sea of debris.
Carn watched all this without a word. He hunched his back and reached for his toes. Then he yawned, rolling back to standing. His sleepy eyes smiled blearily from beneath his tangled hair.
Alina smiled. A leaf sprouted out of his mass of blond hair. She reached for it, pulling it free from the tangles. It fluttered to the ground. “Ready?”
Carn nodded, and they were off. Free from packs and equipment, they moved lightly through the forest. Before long they were back beside the rolling river, and they strolled on the rocky bank. The water churned beside them. Alina thought she could hear the rocks rolling beneath its waves. The crunch of the collisions beat rhythmically in her head. Bird songs wove an intricate, continually changing melody. The sounds were comforting; they reminded her of the music of the Clan.
Arie always loved the music, she remembered. Her brother, five years old at the time, had spent hours in front of the Clan musicians. When Alina was born, he would drag her along too. Neither were allowed in the audience—Alina was girl, and both were born poor, but Arie had managed to weasel them in anyway. Isen had banned music a few years later.
Alina snorted. That had been the first of many bans, and like the others, there was no real logic behind it. Isen took over the Clan with a supreme ideal in mind, and he moved quickly to cultivate its base. Women were reduced to mere slaves, and the men vied for their leader’s attention. Arie never became a favorite. By that time, he had turned to other activities.
Her mouth twitched slightly. She picked her way around a pile of fallen logs, waiting as Carn climbed over the top of them. The river curved away from their bank. Soon, their path of stones was reduced to a mere dribble along the edge of the water. Alina splashed in the puddles as she walked.
She turned her mind to other subjects, leaving behind the painful topic of her brother’s death. It seemed like everything brought up his memory. She was beginning to get sick of the constant grief.
Behind her, Carn marched slowly. His blue eyes twinkled, reflecting the color of the water beneath him. He had torn the sleeves off of his tunic for the snares, and his pale arms stuck awkwardly from his shoulders. The skin was beginning to turn a faint pink.
Alina frowned. She pulled her cloak tightly around her, despite the heat she felt. Carn had thrown his own cloak loosely over his shoulder. She wished that he would put it on. Sunburn is the last thing we need to be worrying about. She didn’t mention her worries to her friend– Carn hated worry warts.
They walked steadily onwards, watching as the river shrunk at their feet. The change wasn’t noticeable at first, but after crossing several tributaries, the river was hardly more than a wide stream. Alina glanced across to the other bank. The trees were thinner there.
“Think we should cross?” Carn had followed her gaze.
Alina shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re not actually going anywhere, so it won’t make much difference.” She threw a stick into the water. It bobbed for a moment before being washed away. “It might get deep in the center,” she cautioned.
Carn smirked. “Afraid of getting wet? Come on, we could use a swim anyway.” He waded into the river. When the water was up to his waist, he turned and waited for Alina to follow.
Alina rolled her eyes. She slipped into the river, feeling her wet clothes sag in the current. When she was near Carn, she dove into the water.
She came up sputtering. Carn grinned and followed suit. Together, they began to swim to the opposite shore. Alina’s long, smooth strokes pushed her ahead, but the current was strong. She watched her chosen landing place sweep by, and behind her, Carn was beginning to slow. She no longer heard his hands slapping the water. His panting was hardly audible.
“Almost there.” She felt her toes scrap the rocky bed. The current was still too strong to stand, but the sign encouraged her. She pushed forward, though her limbs were beginning to go numb. She hauled herself onto the warm stones of the bank.
Carn dragged himself in beside her. They lay for time, letting the sun dry their clothing. Alina peeled a twig to comb through her hair. The swim had exhausted her, but because of her numb stomach, she could longer feel the pangs of hunger. She felt her eyes droop. The warmth of the sun cradled her into sleep.
She wasn’t sure what woke her. The gentle hum of voices was startling, but so was the scent of smoke. She drew in a deep breath, and though the smoke wasn’t chokingly thick, it was disturbing. She crawled out of its path. In her half asleep mind, it didn’t occur to her that both the voices and the smoke were out of place.
Luckily, Carn was ahead of her. He dropped to all fours beside her, hushing her with a warning glance. “Someone’s here,” he whispered.
“Well that’s obvious,” Alina shot back. The details of their situation came flooding back to her. Cautiously, she stood.
Carn followed her lead. They crept towards the edge of the forest, where the smoke was thickest. The gentle flicker of a campfire came slowly into focus. Alina pushed a branch out of the way, and the leaves rustled. The voices stopped.
“Probably a squirrel,” came a man’s voice. He spoke slowly, choosing every word.
“What else could it be?” His companion asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, on the very outskirts of our territory.”
Alina peered through the bush. Several men sat with their backs to her, turned in towards the flames. A young man, his pale blond hair streaming with water, poked at the fire with a stick. His green eyes stared sulkily at the rising ashes. Another man watched him intently. “So you saw nothing.”
The young man waved his hand. “What was I supposed to see? Like I said, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s going to be out here—”
“If Alvardine caught wind of a disturbance, then it’s our duty to investigate it.” The man snatched the stick. He snapped it cleanly in half, tossing the pieces into the forest. “If you’d paid closer attention, maybe you would have noticed.” He waved another man forward.
The man shifted hesitantly. “Of course, it wasn’t very noticeable, so I wouldn’t expect you to see it,” he began, “but there was evidence of a campfire. The ashes were scattered on the edges of a clearing. Across the river, of course.”
“And?”
“Well, there was this.” The man pulled a strip of leather from inside his cloak. With a start, Alina recognized the snare Carn had set the day before. “It was set not far from the clearing.”
“Ah.” The man turned to the boy, smirking. “And what do you make of that, Leif?”
The boy frowned sullenly. “Alright. How many people?”
“Two. Small, almost like children.”
Alina drew back. She met Carn’s eyes. These people were searching for them! She turned and began to crawl back to the beach.
A twig snapped underfoot. Almost immediately, the men were on them.
Alina screamed. “Carn! Run!”
She had been in this situation before. She felt the blood coursing through her veins, heard the shouts of the men behind her, and remembered. Then, it was Isen who had chased after her. His hands clutched at a dagger. Arie swung from a noose, his body still twitching—she wasn’t even sure he was dead, just that he was gone. There was no one to save her now.
She heard Carn’s panting breath behind her. Even he had been the enemy, then. She slipped up a rocky embankment, heading toward the river. If she could just reach the water, maybe she would be safe.
This was not to be. She stumbled on a log and fell. Her hands scraped the earth, and she threw herself back onto her feet. When she looked up, a man was blocking her path. His eyes narrowed.
She spun, vaguely aware of the man drawing his sword behind her. The river was blocked, and she turned towards the forest. Men were streaming towards her. She saw the blond boy veer to meet her. She swerved. Something hit her back, hard.
Without thinking, she reached for the wound. Blood stained her hands. Still, she pressed forward. She ducked another blow, her head spinning with the effort. She couldn’t out run them forever.
But stopping was not an option. Ivindor was full of raiders, and these men were out for her blood. It was either run or be killed. She spotted a narrow trail off to her left and spun into it, her feet slipping on mud. A branch tore at her hair. She felt it scrap against her cheek.
The path widened suddenly, and she darted across the glen. A doe looked up from the grass, chewing slowly as it watched her. She scurried past it.
“This way!” A shout from behind her spurred her on. The men were gaining. She heard their feet slap against the dust. Another trail forked off to the right, and she crashed through a pile of brambles as she raced towards it. Her feet hit solid ground. She took off.
Her breath was coming in ragged gasps now. She turned her gaze forward. At the end of the trail, she saw the glisten of river water. She pounded onto the beach. The stones grabbed at her toes. Even here, nature was against her.
The water was cool against her skin. She plowed into the river, her hands splashing in the current. The men shouted a warning. She heard something dive into the water behind her.
She whirled. The man was crashing towards her, sending up a spray of white foam. She saw Carn on the beach. He dodged the blond boy and twisted towards the water. Another man was there to catch him. He struggled, but the arms were strong. Carn was caught fast by the enemy.
Alina did not think. Within seconds, she was back on the beach, leaving her swimming pursuer far behind. She whipped the water from her eyes. A man dove for her. She step sided him. Her hands found a heavy stone as she scrambled up the bank. She hefted it. It thudded against the blond boy’s head.
She watched him fall. Carn took the opportunity to break away, and he raced towards her. Taking her hand, he dragged her back to the water. “Swim!”
She did as she was told. Her arms spun wildly against the waves. Her feet kicked flurries of spray into the air. It didn’t take as long as she expected for them to reach the opposite shore.
Alina waded onto the bank. Beside her, Carn gulped down air. His wet hair streamed water into his face. She shook the dampness from her own hair. Safe.
“Alina!” She heard the warning a moment too late. Hands grabbed at her arms, spinning her back towards the rivers. The man was huge, and his arms bulged as he fought for control. She felt a knife press against her throat.
She froze. Beside her, Carn did the same. He whimpered.
The man laughed. “Give it up, kid.” He yanked the two coremen together. His companions grinned.
“Tie them up.” The blond boy staggered from the water. He clutched at his head. It was with some satisfaction that Alina saw a welt rising there.
She felt a rope being pulled tight around her wrists. She kicked out, hard. The man grunted, but the bonds were tied.
Another man threw a loop around her feet. The rope burned against her ankles. Escape was now impossible. Alina wobbled and fell to the ground. Her body ached from where she hit the stones.
Carn was thrown loosely beside her. She tried to catch his eye. “If we can get to the tunnels,” she hissed.
He shook his head. “We’ll never make it!” He gulped down the rest of fear. She saw the knife wound on his throat gape like a fish. “Stay quiet. Once they see we don’t have anything—”
“Silence!” The man, panting hard, leaned against a tree. He glared at them and wiped the sweat from his brow. His sword dripped water onto the sun-baked beach.
He dried the sword on a bit of dry clothing. “Gods. This is just what we needed.” He strode over to where Alina and Carn lay. His foot connected with Carn’s ribs. Alina heard her friend gasp. “We don’t have time for this.”
The blond boy smiled. Alina shivered. “I say we kill them. Now.”
Another man shook his head. “You heard what Alvardine said. All intruders are to be brought back. Let the elf deal with them.”
“He’ll let them off.” He clutched at his golden hair, rubbing the spot where Alina’s stone had hit. “Kill them. No one will ever know.”
The man frowned. “We can’t do that, Leif. What if they’re—”
“What if they’re what? They’re spies. We all know the punishment for that,” the boy called Leif growled. He slid his sword from his sheath. “We’re on a time budget here.” He took a step forward.
Alina couldn’t tear her eyes from the blade. The metal glinted with water and sunlight. He shifted the hilt in his grasp, and the tip slid closer to Alina’s throat.
“Leif!”
“If you’re such a wimp, you can go wait with the horses.” Leif took another step forward. He raised his eyebrows. “All of you. This won’t take long.”
The man seemed about to protest, but his companions nodded. They glanced at the captives. One sheathed his sword. He headed towards the river, wading until the water was up to his waist. He began to swim with long, clean strokes. The others followed him.
Leif watched them go. When the last man had reached the opposite shore, he turned back to Alina. His sword quivered. The tip traced the underside of her cheek.
She shuddered. The metal was cold against her skin, and she felt the blade rip several strands of hair. She closed her eyes. Better to face death without the distractions of the outside world.
“No!” Carn squirmed beside her. He whispered something in Alina’s ear, but she couldn’t tell what. She wished he would be quiet. There was nothing he could do.
The blade shifted, and Alina felt it leave her neck. Carn hissed.
“I’ll just take care of you first, then,” Leif growled.
“No.” The voice was firm. Carn stiffened against her shoulder. She snapped her eyes open, staring around wildly for the stranger.
“Put the sword down, Leif.” The man slipped silently onto the beach. He scanned the scene with silver eyes. His black hair swung loosely against his high cheekbones.
Alina sucked in a deep breath. She watched as Leif sheathed his sword before turning her attention back to the newcomer. His lithe body shifted as he gazed down at the captives. He pushed his green cloak away from his face. One thing was for certain. The elf was not feeling merciful.
3
The campfire swirled in the wind. He watched the sparks rise into the night sky, stars ascending to the heavens. Smoke drifted across his face.
He turned away. The night was cool against his skin, but he didn’t notice. Even the dew, just forming like crystals on the grass blades, was inconsequential. The Raven King was slipping out of his grasp.
No. He wouldn’t let that happen. They needed the Raven King, needed him more than anyone could know. Without the Raven King, all would fail. Without the Raven King, they were stuck. He watched the cool air float from the girl’s mouth.
Killing them wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t have their blood on his hands, even though it would save time. Alvardine wasn’t a murderer. Not if he could help it.
He stood, stretching beneath the wool of his cloak. That still left the Raven King. The man would need to be found, and soon, before things got out of hand. King Rolan was on the move.
He sighed. Twenty-seven years ago, he never would have dreamed this would happen. His best friend had turned enemy, and the only thing to stop him was a legend. A mere legend, taken from a book in the school library. The prophecy of the Raven King was slowly coming true.
But Rolan wasn’t supposed to be on the receiving end. Alvardine still couldn’t get over that fact, though he had had twenty-seven years to get used to it. King Rolan would be destroyed.
He strode around the campfire, crossing to where the captives slept. The girl was silent, her face obscured by her cloak. The boy, however, rumbled with snores. Alvardine smiled softly. They looked like children.
No. He knew better than that. They were coremen, not children. Shorter than most men, with agile bodies to squeeze into cracks, they looked like children. Except that they weren’t.
He bent to tuck a stray hand beneath a blanket. The girl shifted, her black hair slipping over her closed eyes. He smiled.
“She’s not a spy, you know.”
Alvardine nodded. He turned to face the speaker, a young woman huddled inside a grey cloak. Her golden hair spilled out from a tight braid at the nape of her neck. “Neither is the boy.”
The woman folded her arms across her chest. Her blue eyes glinted in the starlight. “So what are you going to do? We can’t leave them here.” She crouched beside the sleeping forms. Slowly, she drew the blanket up around Alina’s chin. “And no matter what Leif says, you can’t just kill them.”
Alvardine nodded. “I know. Leif spoke in anger—even he doesn’t think we should kill them.”
Elewyn frowned. “Sometimes I don’t understand him,” she muttered. “What is he doing here in the first place? He joined so abruptly—”
“Oryth’s doing. He likes the boy.”
“Oryth? What does my father have to do with anything? He’s just here because you’re here. You know he doesn’t believe in the Raven King.”
“Shhh.” Alvardine held up a hand, silencing her instantly. They both glanced at Alina and Carn, but neither stirred. They slept on, oblivious to the hushed voices above them.”
“He doesn’t believe in the Raven King,” Elewyn continued in softer tones, “and you know it. He’s here to support you.” She stepped closer to Alvardine. “And we both know why you’re here.”
Alvardine grimaced. His face twitched, and for a moment his set face was broken. He reached for his pocket.
He pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment and unraveled it. A portrait stared back him, its paint cracked and worn. The woman’s face was serene. Black hair was swept across her delicate brow. Clear grey eyes sparkled with a hint of blue. The woman’s hands fluttered near the edge of the frame. Alvardine stroked their fluid lines.
Elewyn smiled. She watched as Alvardine’s face calmed and his hands stilled. On one of his fingers, a single golden band spoke of his ties to the woman.
“Cere would have understood,” she whispered to the elf.
“Would she? It’s been seventeen years. She never even knew about the Raven King.” He paused, sucking in a choking breath. “And now, well—”
A time will come in Ivindor
When rivers flow with blood.
And at this time, the Sacred Lore,
Will, torn, lie in the mud.
But from this dark shall come a light,
The Raven King, alone,
To lead the men, their king to smite,
And sit upon the throne.
Two times these words shall come to pass,
Two kings shall be removed.
The noble and his brother’s mass,
Before the strife is soothed.
Elewyn waited for the last whispers of the prophecy to still. “It was enough, to know that you loved her.”
“Was it? Sometimes, I wonder. Who would she have chosen, if she was given chance? Me, or Rolan?”
Alina’s eyes snapped open. She shut them just as quickly, her heart pounding. Elewyn’s touch had awoken her at first, but as she lay there, she couldn’t help but overhear her captor’s conversation. Carn had told her about King Rolan, and the devastation he had caused. The King hated the elves.
“Father says she didn’t love Rolan. That it was obvious, back at the Academy. She chose you.”
Alvadine bowed his head. His voice grated with emotion. “Even so. With Liam, I couldn’t help it, and—Maybe neither were good enough for her.”
Elewyn ignored this last comment. “Do you think there’s hope?” She wasn’t talking about Alvadine’s wife.
“If we find the Raven King, maybe. It all depends.” He watched as Oryth’s form shifted in the shadows.
The old man stepped lightly to crouch beside his friend. His white beard caught in the campfire smoke, and for a second, Alina thought he had crept too close to the flames. She froze. If they discovered her eavesdropping—No. She wouldn’t think about it.
“The Raven King is too old to lead a war,” Oryth whispered. “He wasn’t young the first time.”
“What, when he overthrew the elves? Age doesn’t matter. He’s the Raven King. The Gods are with him.” Elewyn stared at her father. “The question is: will he be willing to go against everything he’s worked to do? He spent years trying to pull the elves from their thrones and put the humans in their place. Will he really want to undo that?”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants. He was given a duty by the Gods, and King Rolan must be overthrown.”
Alina bit her lip. The last time the Raven King had acted, things had been bad in Ivindor. The elves had forgotten their duty to the Gods. Now, with Rolan making the same mistake, she was sure the same group would act. “The Wanderers,” she mouthed to herself. She clenched her jaw. These were rebels; they would not be forgiving to her or Carn.
“So what will you do with them?”
Elewyn’s eye had been drawn by Alina’s sudden movement. She
watched the girl, but Alina let out a slight snore, she turned back
to Alvardine. You can’t kill them.
“And you can’t just leave
them here, if they really are spies.” Oryth glared at his daughter.
She lowered her gaze.
“I don’t know. We can’t go back to the Wanderings and leave them with Rohananon. Maybe Leif could take them back?”
“And ‘accidentally’ kill them on the way? I don’t think so.”
“Well, what do you propose, Elewyn? That we accept them into our midst?”
“Yes.” Alina’s voice rang out from the shadows. She stepped into the firelight. “King Rolan—he has red hair.” Her voice quavered, but she held firm.
Alvardine nodded cautiously. “Red hair is uncommon in Ivindor. I’ve only known one family to posses it.”
His words only confirmed what Alina had been thinking. She thought back to her discovery of the ruined city, and the red haired man that had walked its streets. Then the image of the dying boy came to her unbidden. She hardened her resolve. “I want to find the Raven King.”
4
Leif jerked awake. His blond hair was mussed from sleep, but his eyes were wide and angry. He stood, throwing his hand onto the hilt of his sword. The naked blade flashed in the moonlight. “Alvardine!”
The elf smiled. He paced in front of the fire, his cloak swaying dangerously close to the embers. “It’s your choice.”
Alina breathed a sigh of relief. She stood up to face her tormentors. At her side, Carn pulled himself upright. His face was pale.
“You must understand, Leif. This is the only option.”
“Apart from the logical. I say we kill them now!” Leif reached for his sword.
“No!” Alvardine stayed his hand. “We can use them. You have to know what you’re getting into, though,” he said to Alina. “Both of you. Sir Alleyn won’t come willingly.”
Alina nodded. She was startled to hear Alvadine use the Raven King’s real name, but she hid her surprise. “Why does it have to be the same Raven King? You say that he’s old—”
“The Gods chose him.” Leif brushed Alvardine aside, coming to stand in front of Alina. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.
Alina bristled. “The Gods can choose again—”
“And they will.” Alvardine sighed heavily. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of this? Even the prophecy suggests it. ‘Two times these words will come to pass.” The first time was when Sir Alleyn overthrew King Loren, the last of the elven kings. Now it has to happen again, but this time with King Rolan. Sir Alleyn can’t be expected to serve twice in the same lifetime.”
“So why doesn’t one of us become the Raven King and be done with it?” Alina asked.
“Because it’s not our choice. The only people with the power to decide on the next Raven King are the Gods, and they speak to the Raven King alone. We’re going to need to find him if we want to know his successor.”
Alina nodded. She watched as Alvardine stirred up the fire, sending sparks shooting into the air. They danced away on the fingers of the wind.
“They still can’t come,” Leif announced, striding forward. He shook himself awake, and his hair fell neatly into place. His footsteps were loud against Alina’s ears. “They’re spies.”
“Leif,” Elewyn reproached. She gaze the boy a chastising glare. He sneered back at her. She tossed her head. “Alvardine doesn’t think so.”
“Alvardine is a fool.” Leif took a step forward, positioning himself so that he stood directly over Alina. Even though his back was turned, Alina felt a glimmer of terror rise to her throat.
“We can’t trust them. Not now, not ever. We were better off killing them in the first place. Now,” he growled, stepping backwards, “we’ll have to kill them without any light. After he’s fed them!” His foot slipped over Alina’s hand. She gasped as he pressed down.
“I don’t know about that, Leif.” A hunched shadow appeared from the other side of the fire. The man’s cloak billowed around him.
Alvardine reached for his sword.
The man stepped into the firelight. “Alvardine trusts them. That should be good enough for you.”
Alvardine laughed. He relaxed his grip. “Oryth, my friend! Gods, you gave me a scare!”
Oryth smiled. He pulled his hood down, revealing his grizzled white hair. A snowy beard wagged down the front of his chest, nearly obscuring his twinkling blue eyes. His fingers twitched on his staff. “So the newcomers are welcome. Good. I was beginning to worry that our manners were going downhill.”
Leif glared at him. “That doesn’t fix anything, old man. We cannot bring them with us.”
“And why not?” Elewyn asked. “They don’t seem like spies to me. And besides. We don’t even know if the boy wants to come.”
All eyes turned to Carn. Alina shifted uncomfortably. Arie had died in just such a rebellion. When she left the Clan, Alina had sworn never to get involved. Now she wasn’t so sure. The image of the dying boy flashed in her mind. She remembered the ruins of the city, and the red haired man. “We have nowhere else to go,” she pushed out. “And the Raven King must be found.” She glanced at Carn, who shrugged.
“Where Alina goes, I follow.”
“Then that’s settled!” Oryth clapped his hands together. “Alina and Carn come with us!”
Elewyn laughed. “Gods! We were needing a couple more hands.” She reached for a sack at her feet. The buckles clanked together as she rummaged in its depths. When she emerged, she clutched several biscuits in her breast. She handed them out to Alina and Carn.
Alina bit into the flaky bread. Her stomach rumbled hungrily, and her first food in days lay rich upon her tongue. She closed her eyes, trying to savor the flavor.
“It is not settled, Oryth.” Leif’s voice was an unpleasant interruption. She swallowed the biscuit with a lump of air, grimacing.
“I still don’t trust them. And to make matters worse, just look at them. No weapons! Alvardine, you know we don’t have enough swords to just hand them out.”
The elf nodded indulgently. “Doubtless we can pick some up in Falator.”
“In Falator?” Leif stamped his foot. “We don’t have any money! Or have you forgotten spending it?”
Elewyn glared at him. She took back the biscuit she was offering him. “We’ll scrounge something up.”
“We always scrounge something up. Even in the Wanderings, we always scrounged something up. But what if this time we can’t? There aren’t any back ups here, Elewyn.”
“Enough, Leif.” Alvardine set his biscuit aside. He motioned to the young man. “Just tell us. What do you have in mind?”
“We need horses.”
“We have enough extra pack animals.”
“Then the swords.” He seized on the idea. “I propose an arms raid. Daedalyus isn’t far from here, and its full of smithies. There’s got to be thousands of extra swords there!”
“Daedalyus is also swarming with Black Knights.” Alvardine stretched, reaching for his biscuit once again. “King Rolan’s patrol men,” he explained to Alina and Carn. “Reckon you’ve heard of them.”