Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  ‘Nice place,’ he grunted in Théon’s ear. The shrew shot him a nasty look over her shoulder. Why wasn’t he surprised her hearing was nearly as good as his? Years of straining for whatever gossip would line her purse, no doubt. Not that he’d been much better as a child. How many secrets had he sold for nothing more than a crust of bread over the years?

  The room she led them to was cramped enough to begin with, and it was bordering on claustrophobic once Alexan had squeezed his bulk into the confined space. He kept his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Tight quarters left little room for manoeuvre.

  A table divided the room, buried beneath a pile of ledgers, the harbour master sat on the other side poring over them. He didn’t look up as they entered. Not even when the old harpy slammed the door shut behind them.

  ‘You’d best have a ship lined up for this lot soon, Harl,’ she snapped, taking the only empty seat in the room. ‘Don’t want their sort under my roof.’

  ‘I’m sure your guests appreciate such gracious hospitality,’ the harbour master noted, still not looking up from his ledgers. ‘I imagine they’re paying enough for it.’

  She made a vulgar noise in the back of her throat. ‘Not enough if they bring the demons to our doorstep.’

  The harbour master looked up, and the confusion on his weary face gave way to dread. His sallow complexion turned ashen as Théon lowered her hood to reveal her tapered ears. Those eyes were near popping from his skull as he took in the mark on the old man’s forehead. Sweat beaded on his crumpled brow when he spotted Alexan’s hand on his dagger, and his jaw went slack as his gaze fell on the Princess.

  He swallowed. Loudly. ‘Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting … I was only told to arrange passage for four travellers. They didn’t tell me …’

  ‘How valuable your cargo was?’ Alexan finished for him, noting the calculating glint entering his eye. Gods, how easy it would be to snap that scrawny neck and gorge himself on the man’s life. He folded his arms to hide how his hands shook from the urge.

  The harbour master flinched and plastered an ingratiating smile on his tired face as he tried to backtrack. ‘How precious.’

  ‘You mean dangerous,’ the innkeeper’s wife grunted. ‘Their kind’s nothing but bad news, mark my words.’

  So true. Alexan’s teeth itched to sink into her flesh. Savour the life pulsing beneath it, tired and spent as it was. He closed his eyes. Breathed through his nose. Clenched his teeth tight. Anything to keep himself from killing.

  ‘Consider them marked,’ Théon was saying, her voice cool. ‘Now, to business? We will need at least two cabins made available for us, and we have three horses stabled in the inn, along with a wagonload of supplies to be transported.’

  The harbour master nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course. Now let me see … the Jackdaw is due in the day after tomorrow and then should set sail again perhaps three days after that?’

  Théon shook her head. ‘Too long.’

  ‘Jackdaw is the fastest ship sailing out of this port. She’ll get you there in no time.’

  ‘We need something leaving sooner,’ Théon insisted.

  He pursed his lips, rifling through pages. ‘You’ve not got a lot of options, I’m afraid. The Sentinel is leaving on the morning tide, but her hold is full. No space for your horses, nor your belongings. The captain might be willing to give up his cabin for you, but I think there’s only the one. She’s not as fast as the Jackdaw, but she’ll make good time.’

  ‘No good. We need the horses.’

  ‘You could purchase fresh horses in Stormkeep,’ the harbour master offered.

  Théon shook her head again. ‘Not an option. The horses come too.’

  Alexan took another deep breath. He was far too thirsty for this. Dizzy. Off-kilter. The corrupt magic of the Darkling was slowly killing him; the blood of his Shade master little more than poison in his veins, burning the magic of his own life-force from his body. The effect had always seemed slower for him than for others. He had no clue why, whether it was something about the Shade King’s magic or his own strange power, but he was grateful for it. Grateful that he didn’t need to steal as much life as the rest of his kind.

  But even he had his limits. And this room, these people, this entire conversation, were testing them. The harbour master sighed, and Alexan forced his attention back to his surroundings. It felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. The harder he tried, the faster concentration slipped through his fingers.

  ‘The only other thing I can suggest is the Sea Hawk,’ the man was saying, ‘though how those two get away with calling that flotsam Sea Hawk I’ve no idea. She floats, but that’s about all I’ll say for her.’

  ‘When is she due to leave?’

  ‘Nothing in my books, but there never is. Come and go as they please, those two. Never declare anything either.’

  ‘Pirates?’

  ‘Not in that scow,’ he snorted. ‘No, I’m afraid they’re nothing more than a pair of petty smugglers. You’d be better off waiting for the Jackdaw.’

  ‘Where can I find them?’

  The harbour master bristled. ‘I cannot condone you travelling with their ilk. It is one thing being unable to stop them operating out of my port, but quite another to send business their way.’

  Théon ignored him. ‘Where can I find them?’

  ‘They will take all you have and leave your bodies for the fish.’

  ‘We can take care of ourselves. Now, do not make me ask again.’

  Silence echoed.

  A growl rippled through Alexan’s chest. Equal parts frustration and hunger. Control was wet hands around a sleek fish. The slightest twitch, and it would be free. Free to feed.

  The mortals paled. Shrank from the death in his gaze. The innkeeper’s wife spoke first.

  ‘Ana disappeared upstairs with one of the girls about half an hour ago. She’ll not be back down for some time yet, and I’m not for disturbing her,’ she warned, adding hastily when Alexan growled once more, ‘but Mari is in the taproom. She’s the one you want anyway. Two capt’ns but only one brain between ’em.’

  Théon’s gaze was on him, eyes narrowed, as she tossed a handful of coins on the table. ‘Thank you.’

  His senses sharpened under her scrutiny. Became all too aware of the tension thrumming through the room. The tension in her. In her body, limbs taut and ready to strike. In her magic, dancing beneath her skin, waiting to break free. Perhaps his own prey instincts at work? Maybe something else. His lips parted in anticipation. Of what, he didn’t know, but he wanted it with an eagerness that scared him.

  Then a gnarled hand took him by the elbow, and her spell was broken. He glanced down to see the old man at his side and felt the light touch of an Enchanting brushing his mind in warning.

  ‘Why don’t you go get some fresh air?’ Silvermane murmured, guiding him towards the door. He didn’t fight it. Not when his self-restraint was so fragile. Nodding, he allowed the old man to usher him out, only vaguely aware of the assurances that they could cope without him for five minutes.

  He staggered from the inn, lurching out into the square like a drunkard. Head splitting. Guts heaving. Heart hammering. No, being drunk was more pleasant. Muffled laughter from across the marketplace had him stumbling down the alley beside the inn. Away from whatever mortals were foolish enough to be out after dark. Away from temptation. He braced himself against the wall, breathing deeply as another spasm of searing pain squeezed at his chest.

  ‘My lord?’ The girl’s voice was a clear bell in the night. But did it chime in welcome or warning? ‘My lord, are you alright?’

  ‘I’m no lord, girl. Now go back inside,’ he growled, wrestling for control over his instincts, over the impulse to drain every drop of life from her body. She’d deserve it too. Foolish to ignore her instincts. They must be screaming at her to run by now.

  But she heeded neither them nor his warning. He could feel the warmth of her as she neared. Scent the blood in her veins
. A shudder ran through him at her feather-light touch on his arm. At her soft, enticing voice when she asked, ‘Can I help you?’

  It was an effort to raise his head. A low groan escaped his lips as he met those soft doe-eyes. Saw the invitation in them.

  He ground out another warning from between clenched teeth. ‘Go. Back. Inside.’

  The girl ignored him, leaning closer. His fingers twitched towards her throat. He needed her. Her warmth. Her passion. Her life.

  ‘Alexan?’

  Théon’s voice shattered the night. He threw himself away from the girl, pressing his body to the wall and praying to the Gods he could hold himself there long enough for her to escape.

  ‘Leave,’ he breathed, panting from the effort of restraint. The girl’s face was pale with fear now, and he almost laughed with relief. But he knew the signs. A rabbit about to bolt. A fox unable to resist the chase. ‘Don’t run. Just turn around and walk away.’ She stepped away, not able to take her eyes from him as she retreated backwards down the alley. Too fast. And her face. Her fear. Taunting him. Daring him.

  Then Théon was between him and his prey, and all that remained of his control shattered.

  The pounding in his head, the shakiness in his legs, faded from his awareness as he lunged for the girl. Théon stepped in, blocking his way, and as he tried to dart around her, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet. His vision darkened, and he faltered, just as Théon slammed into him. He heard her curse of surprise before his head cracked off the ground.

  She was on her knees beside him, calling his name in a clear, crisp voice that brokered no nonsense. Had he had any strength left, he might have laughed. She’d never sounded more like her mother in her life. A Casting flooded over him, pinning him in place. His own magic roiled, itching to break free. She could not hold him for long.

  ‘Put me down,’ he gasped, ignoring how his eyes focussed in on her all-too-near throat.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  His knuckles were white as his fingers closed on her wrist, his body itching towards her despite the weakness crippling it. He lunged for her, roaring. ‘Théon, do it now!’

  A Casting flared, then all he knew was darkness.

  He let out a mighty groan as he came to. His skull felt like it was being split open with a blunt axe, and he trembled like a newborn calf trying to stand. He winced as he opened his eyes and looked around. He was inside the inn, judging by the stench, lying on a lumpy bed with a lantern on the table by his head.

  Théon – at least, he thought it was Théon – was sitting on the end of the bed. She was little more than a blur, but if he squinted, he could just about make out her face. The dark shape of the old man hovered behind her. He closed his eyes in disgust. This would not be a pleasant conversation.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Théon asked. He could only manage a noncommittal grunt in response. She snorted and laid an affectionate hand on his arm.

  But Silvermane was far from amused. ‘I don’t see how anyone can find this situation funny. You’ve put us all in terrible danger by letting your thirst get this bad.’

  ‘I had it under control,’ Alexan mumbled, his voice weak and hoarse. It was the old man’s turn to snort, but there was no humour in it. ‘I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?’ he snapped. He knew he hadn’t. Wouldn’t still be this weak if he had. And his irritation lent him a little strength at least.

  ‘That’s not the point,’ Silvermane argued.

  ‘What is the point then?’ asked Théon, cutting off the argument before it could start. Silvermane hesitated, and Alexan could hear the reluctance in his voice when he spoke.

  ‘He needs blood if he’s to survive.’

  There was a pregnant pause, and Alexan prayed to the Gods for the earth to open and swallow him whole. Then Théon stood and nodded. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I’ll sort it.’

  The old man gaped incredulously.

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ he snarled. But Théon had already breezed past him.

  ‘Perfectly,’ she assured him, beaming. And with that she swept from the room. Silvermane lingered, and Alexan could feel the old man’s mind brushing against his defences, taking control of his body. Weakened as he was, there was little he could do to stop it, but he was glad. Glad to know Silvermane could stop him if he tried to hurt Théon. Besides, his thoughts and memories were safe. Buried deep. Hidden behind defences that the likes of Silvermane would never breach. One of the few perks of serving the Shade King.

  Théon returned some time later, a tankard clutched in her hand. Alexan scented the blood the moment the door opened, and his Darkling impulses had him thrashing against Silvermane’s control. The old man held him fast. He was helpless as Théon perched on the bed beside him and cradled his head like a child, raising the tankard to his lips.

  ‘Careful,’ hissed Silvermane as those Darkling instincts heaved against his restraints. They were desperate. Frantic. Screaming for him to let it rip Théon’s throat open.

  ‘Hold on tight,’ Alexan warned. ‘They’ll only get stronger.’ The old man nodded in understanding, a glimmer of pity in his amethyst eyes as he glimpsed the burden of the Claiming.

  Relief crashed through him as the blood touched his lips, flooding his body with its life-force as he drank deeply. As a child, he’d once gone swimming in the hidden pools, deep within the Silvan Forests. He’d ventured through waterfalls, exploring underwater caves and secret chambers with his only friend. A she-wolf. But he’d got lost, trapped beneath the water with no way out. His lungs had been burning by the time the wolf had hauled him back to the surface. The air filling his chest as he took his first breath was like being born anew … just like this weakening of his thirst.

  Théon smiled, sensing his relief. Even the old man seemed to relax, although his grip on Alexan’s mind tightened. His feeding instincts were roused now, strengthened by Théon’s blood and emboldened by her closeness, but Silvermane’s control did not waver. As he finished, she placed the empty tankard on the table beside the bed and reached over to wipe a stray drop from the corner of his mouth.

  Not even Silvermane could stop him as his tongue flicked over her finger. He felt, more than heard, the sharp intake of breath as she stilled in shock, and his gaze focussed on her with predatory intent. Her eyes were wide, and he could scent the anticipation thrumming in her blood. Gods, he wanted her. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him as well.

  Then the old man was between them, guiding Théon from the room even as his voice was a quiet lullaby in Alexan’s mind, pulling him into sleep. The Darkling within railed against his influence, but with only a soft word and a whisper, Silvermane soothed it into submission.

  ‘Rest now,’ he murmured, his voice echoing in the vaults of Alexan’s mind. ‘Passage to Stormkeep has been arranged. We sail on the morning tide, but for now, rest. I will watch over them.’

  He stopped fighting it, grateful at last for the ancient one’s power and the respite it might bring him. And as he descended back into the darkness, he felt an ember of hope flicker into life.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking?’ Beside him, Théon had hissed but otherwise not deigned to respond. He’d shaken his head in frustration. ‘Remind me again, what made you think this was a good idea?’

  ‘She’s called the Sea Hawk.’

  ‘She could be called Wavebreaker for all I care, it won’t make her float any better.’

  ‘Don’t be so provincial. You know, if you ever choose to open your eyes, you might just find a way out of the mess your life has become.’

  He’d stared at her. ‘What?’

  ‘There are signs all around us, signals put there to guide our steps towards our destiny. Legend says our futures were written in starlight, and only by fulfilling that fate can we ever hope to achieve true happiness.’

  ‘Superstition and prophecy? That’s what you’re putting your faith in?’

  She’d fixed him with a steely look. ‘A jackdaw is a type of crow. As
is a raven, which is my father’s sigil. His personal guard are called the Sentinels. A sea hawk, on the other hand, is Dorrien’s favoured form when she makes the Change. You want to ignore that kind of omen?’

  ‘Fate and destiny are for those too weak to forge their own path,’ he’d reminded her, before walking away. She wouldn’t be persuaded. More’s the pity.

  The harbour master’s description of the smugglers and their ship had been generous. It was little more than a fishing boat. A leaky one at that. Her co-captains were little more than a pair of lecherous drunks who could hardly tell port from starboard. But they’d accepted Théon’s coin and had agreed to leave as soon as possible. Their crew comprised of six hands. A seventh had somehow ended up on the wrong side of the red-headed captain, Ana, and been sold to a bounty hunter. Théon had promised Alexan would take his place on the deck. Delightful.

  He’d tried not to watch her as they loaded the ship, but time and time again, he found his gaze drawn to her. Her raven hair caught in the sea breeze. Her cheeks tinged pink by the cold of the morning. Her tawny skin glowing golden in the dawn light.

  Worst of all was the memory of her blood. That bittersweet flavour would haunt him for all eternity. The way it had crackled and sparked with power, fizzing like sparkling wine in his mouth. Enough to drive him wild. Even the sight of it pulsing through the thin, blue veins at her wrists tested what control he had over his Darkling instincts.

  Instincts he would continue to wrestle with for days. Every time he saw her. Caught her scent. Thought her name. She was a siren in his blood. And in the confines of the ship, he was hard-pressed to ignore her call. He spent what time he could above deck, with the salt and spray to clear his mind. Ironic that he was best able to find peace during the hours spent labouring at whatever menial task the capricious captains had set him. But even they could not occupy him at all hours.

  ‘Are you going to sit out there all night?’ her voice drifted from the doorway. He was perched on a low bench outside her cabin, finishing the remnants of his daily rations. He glanced up, chest tightening. She was leaning against the doorframe with a wineskin in hand. Her sleeves were pushed up and her hair was pulling loose from her braid, but she was as beautiful as ever.