Raven's Wings

by Colin Lindsay

  “We won’t know until after the Offering,” Cera reminded her.

  Subconsciously, they all shuddered, each of them being eligible for the Offering, but spared this time. It was something they never discussed – it was too sensitive. They just stood in silence for a brief, awkward moment.

  “I’d better help with the tables,” Calix announced, gingerly flexing his hands, and turning to go.

  “Let me see those,” Kala demanded, spinning him back around.

  Calix knew better than to resist and offered his hands for inspection. They were badly rope-burned.

  “My gods, Calix, your hands look like you’ve held them over a fire!” Kala exclaimed and pulled a small bottle of salve out of an inner pocket.

  Calix began to object to her using her precious salve on him but was silenced by a look that made it clear that he had no say in the matter. She spread some of the ointment onto her fingers and massaged them into his hands. Once done, she folded his hands together and spun him back on his way. He glanced over his shoulder but stumbled over what to say and wandered away dumbly. Kala turned to find Lily and Cera staring at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You torture that poor boy,” Cera responded.

  “I do not!” Kala protested, but she could tell that she had no allies in the matter, so she tried to deflect by changing the topic again. “Lily, is it true that one of your blankets has been chosen for the Offering?” she asked, knowing full well that it had.

  “Yes!” Lily gushed, then blanched. “I’d better go get it.” She dropped Cera’s hand and grabbed Meadow’s, pulling her away after her. Cera watched Lily until she disappeared, while Kala watched the organization taking place in the field. Several tables were being set up on which the goods comprising the Offering would be sorted. A larger table was carried out from which the Council could preside over the affair. A debate was raging about whether it might rain, and if so, whether everything should be brought inside the Council Hall, but the sky was clear, and it hadn’t rained in days, so it was decided to set up in the open.

  Councilor Sayer strode about giving instructions. He was the oldest member of the Council, though not the most powerful, that role having been assumed by Claudius. Sayer was trailed by his scribe, and they entered the airship with measuring sticks, pen, and parchment. They emerged a while later with the scribe repeating back to Sayer what he’d transcribed, bracing for a reprimand but not receiving one.

  Sayer consulted his notes and began chalking various dimensions onto the tables that were consistent with the sizes of the compartments that lay open inside the airship. Townsfolk walked back and forth, ferrying all manner of goods to the tables, where they were ordered and reordered, accepted or rejected. The Council members heatedly debating what the village could spare and what others downwind might need.

  A woman approached timidly, cradling a folded note, and placed it hesitantly on one of the tables before turning away. Sayer observed this, snatched up the note, and made for the woman. Councilor Fayre intercepted him, took the note, and patted him on the shoulder to indicate that she’d take care of it. She handed it back to the crestfallen woman and walked away with her, consoling her. Kala felt the woman’s pain like a black hole in her heart.

  The sorting would go on all day, so Kala decided there was no point standing around. Besides, she had her own contribution to retrieve. She looked up from her musing to find that Cera had deserted her at some point. She sighed and turned for home.

  Kala walked to the tiny cottage that she shared with her grandfather. It was situated right up against the wall of wooden stakes that ringed the village. Kala always thought that if the townsfolk could push their cottage outside the wall, they’d be all the happier for it. She opened the door and announced her return, but her grandfather wasn’t home. He was probably still at the school where he taught alongside Cera.

  Kala unslung her bow and unstrapped the quiver of arrows on her back and leaned them up against the cold fireplace. She sat down on her bed and looked about the room. It was modest but it was her home, and she was thankful not to be sent away from it. She sighed, bent down, and pulled out the pile of bows and arrows that she’d made from under her bed. While her best work was the one that she carried into the forest, the ones in front of her were of a higher quality than most of the ones used by the village’s hunters, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use any of them herself. She’d had an extensive collection of pelts too, but she’d brought them to the tanners.

  She gathered them up and headed back to where the Offering was being assembled. If they weren’t accepted, they’d be placed aside for her to recover later, or for any other hunter who could make use of them. They were of little use to her, save as spares in case her own broke, but if they could increase someone else’s accuracy, it could mean meat deeper into the bitter winter.

  The whole business with the airship would take a couple of days. The first step was deciding which goods the village would place in its open compartments. By some mechanics beyond their understanding, not until all the open compartments had been filled, closed and locked, would other compartments open to reveal what villages upwind had deigned fit to offer up.

  The village was on edge with hope and fear that the items that they so desperately needed, but were unable to fabricate for themselves, would be on board to help stave off the cruelty of a winter that not everyone would survive. Wondering this herself, Kala stalked back to the landing field.

  2

  Kala

  The crowing of a rooster woke Kala, and she cursed it as she sat up in bed. She was surprised to find that she’d fallen asleep fully clothed. The vigilance required to stay alive in the woods the day before had drained her without her noticing. She got up and he freshened up from a pitcher of water that her grandfather had left out for her. He wasn’t home, but it didn’t surprise her. As one of the village’s only teachers, he was probably eager to see if any supplies had come in the airship that he could use at the school. There was nothing Kala needed, so she had less interest.

  Feeling more herself, she got changed and provisioned herself for a long hunt, but decided to drop in on Lily first for a quick visit before heading out. Now that it was clear that one of the youths would not depart with this ship, there was no obligation for her to stay in the village while the Council made its selection. She grabbed a few kai berries to chew on the walk, closed the door behind her, and headed for Lily’s house at the center of the village.

  Kala arrived at Lily’s door only to have it opened by Cera. Kala raised an eyebrow to question Cera’s presence, but Cera just waved her in.

  “You’re going to get Lily in trouble by being here,” Kala chided her.

  “Not today. The bastard is out. He’s almost tolerable when he’s distracted,” Cera replied as she led Kala toward the kitchen. Lily was relaxing on a sofa while the scones she was making baked, and she smiled broadly as they entered. Meadow was taking her job of watching the timer very seriously and didn’t take her eyes off of it when she greeted Kala. Cera sat down beside Lily and put her arm around her.

  “You two look so cute; I can hardly stand it,” Kala complained.

  Lily blushed, but Cera ignored the teasing and informed her, “No need to go to the field. I saw your bows and arrows getting loaded into the ship.”

  “How could you tell they’re mine?”

  Cera rolled her eyes. “Anyone else go that deep in the woods looking for good ash?”

  Kala had to concede that but was sensitive to making Lily uncomfortable by talking about the forest, so she asked, “Anyone see Calix?”

  “I saw him head out early to help load the Offering. The Council made their final decisions last night,” Lily replied.

  “He’s dependable,” Cera teased Kala.

  “Shut up. Do you get some sort of reward if you pair us up?” Kala countered.

  Before Cera could defend herself, Meadow exclaimed, “They’re ready!” and everyone turn
ed their attention to the hot scones. Meadow squeezed in between Lily and Cera on the sofa and munched away contentedly.

  They sat in comfortable silence, gobbling up the scones. Lily’s house was the largest in the village and a sitting room off the kitchen seemed opulent to Kala given that her bed was virtually in the kitchen of her tiny cottage. Conversation gradually resumed with all the gossip that Kala had missed – the misadventures of the village ne’er-do-well, teens who were being pushed together by their parents, and a couple that consummated their ‘secret’ relationship behind the granary.

  “Ewww,” said Meadow, reminding the older girls of her presence. They fell into silence again, all thinking the same thing, that only fools declare their love before passing into their seventeenth year.

  Lily picked up a brush and began running it through Meadow’s hair the way their mother always had. Meadow closed her eyes and almost purred.

  “Aren’t these a bit of a luxury?” Kala asked, reaching for another scone. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Council perk, I guess,” Lily replied offhandedly.

  “Speak of the devil,” Cera said, looking out the window and spying Claudius approaching. “Better run,” she added, springing up.

  Kala and Cera each grabbed a last scone and darted for the back door.

  Lily barred Kala’s path and told her sternly, “Be careful out there,” then enveloped her in one of her signature hugs.

  “Always,” Kala replied earnestly, wriggling free of the hug and sprinting for the door. She was still closing it when she heard the front door open.

  Damn, that was close, she thought and polished off her scone on the way to the gate. She walked right past a young guard, who was, of course, looking outward and jumped when Kala slapped him on the ass as she passed. Smiling to herself, she threw her cowl over her head and ignored his curses as she strode toward the forest.

  The tree line was lit by the morning sun, and she marveled at how quickly the woods would become gloomy once she passed through that barrier. She walked in a short distance and let her eyes acclimatize before advancing farther. She stood stock-still, listening for any and every sound. Concluding that the forest sounded like its usual self, she penetrated deeper.

  She walked a long distance until she came across a faint trail that deer might have made, which she followed until it crossed a tiny stream. Deciding that the daylight wouldn’t last much longer, she sought out a sturdy tree with a commanding view of the stream.

  This will do, she thought and began climbing the tree. On the lowest branches, she strung a thin line with bells to warn her of predators climbing up after her in the night. Farther up, she positioned herself in a wide crook and secured a sling to support her while she slept. Accepting that no game would wander by with her scent so fresh, she tied herself into the sling and let her mind wander.

  Noticing crumbs still wedged in the folds of her tunic reminded her of Lily. It’s so good that she has Cera, she mused. She so deserves joy so much since the passing of her mother, raising Meadow, and enduring her terrible father. Kala felt guilty that she didn’t miss her parents the way Lily’s loss of her mother was still such a raw wound to her. Kala’s parents and grandmother had died of a fever when she was still very young. She had had the fever too, but hers broke before it took her life, unlike the others. There were still whispers that Kala’s grandfather had made a deal with dark spirits, trading Kala’s life for her parents’ and his wife’s. This, they would say, explains why she spends so much time in the woods… communing with those same spirits.

  She didn’t mind the talk. It set her apart, and in her bones, she felt separate from the village anyway. Her greatest fear was being absorbed by the village until her life became as mundane as everyone else’s. She often woke from dreams in which she was drowning in the dust of the village square. The real terror came from realizing that the village was the sum of her world, and its gravity was inescapable.

  Her grandfather did his best to hide his sorrow at the passing of his wife and children. Kala would sometimes catch him staring into the fire with a haunted look, but once caught, he’d brighten and beckon her to come sit with him. He told amazing stories of a wider world with noble kings and beautiful queens, fierce warriors, and brave heroes. While the villagers shunned him, his gift for storytelling landed him a job as a teacher. It suited the villagers fine – only their children had to interact with him, and they deemed this to be sufficient insulation.

  It was at the village’s small school that her grandfather had met his then wife-to-be. She was the only other teacher, and she was beloved by the villagers, a ray of sunshine like Lily. That was probably why they blamed him when the fever took her – fate’s arrow had missed its mark. It should have taken him. If the villagers had been rude to him before her passing, they were downright cruel afterward. He bore it stoically, as nothing could hurt him worse than her light having gone out.

  It made Kala angry and as a child, she’d become a hellion. She’d fall out of trees that she’d been forbidden to climb, roll off the roof where she sometimes slept on warm nights, and get into countless fights. Her grandfather never called her on any of it, just picked her up, bandaged her scrapes, brushed the hair out her eyes, and sent her back into the world. She loved him with a fierceness that made her dangerous in the eyes of the village, like an attack dog straining against its leash. She let no schoolyard slight go unavenged, at whatever the cost to her. Slowly, the village left her and her grandfather pretty much alone, and that suited her fine.

  Her close friends were the exception. Lily took her under her wing early, the way one might an orphaned kitten. Lily’s love of everyone and everything was incorruptible by even the most divisive gossip. She was oblivious and unwavering in her support for Kala, the hell-cat.

  Cera was another of Lily’s pet projects. She had been branded an outcast since childhood for being a bit off. She didn’t conform to anyone’s expectations. She’d color the sky yellow and the sun blue. In her stories, the damsel slew the dragon and saved the knight. Both her parents died of the fever that took Kala’s parents and she was raised by an indifferent aunt. Cera was as close to a kindred spirit to Kala as the village could offer, and over time Kala felt as protective of her as she did of Lily and her grandfather. As Cera grew into her beauty, having Kala as a friend did her no favors. The boys ogled Cera from afar, but she had no suitors and was content with Lily as the center of her universe, with Kala orbiting them both.

  Calix had always been kind to Kala. He never allowed himself to be drawn into teasing her. He had, instead, on several occasions offered her a hand up after a schoolyard fight left her groaning on the ground. He never interfered in her battles, nor said much, just helped her up. While unaccustomed to support of any kind, Kala didn’t reject it. She’d catch him watching her in class often enough to know that his neutrality was an act, but she’d always look away, not ready to return the interest of any boy.

  The woods became her escape. As a child, she’d been caned repeatedly by village elders for wandering too close to the tree line, close enough to be snatched up by any number of predators lurking there. As a youth, when everyone her age was expected to start exploring different professions, her grandfather had procured her a set of hunting leathers and a bow from the stores. There was a great hue and cry when this was discovered and talk of punishment for misappropriation, but ultimately nothing came of it.

  Her grandfather had simply said, “If you’re going to flirt with danger, you may as well learn how to dance.” He’d bring her out to the fields, set up a straw target, and spend the day retrieving her errant arrows. His patience was unflagging, and as fewer and fewer arrows missed their mark, he’d still come out just to sit with her during target practice.

  One day, he came across her suited up and ready for target practice, but staring into the woods instead.

  “It calls you, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  Kala merely nodded.

&nb
sp; “There are creatures in there to fear, and those that’ll fear you. Respect them both, and you’ll be okay.”

  Kala made regular forays into the forest after that. She started with just a few steps into the trees and gradually went farther and stayed longer. She started returning with small game that could only be found in the woods. She was proud of herself but always heeded her grandfather’s advice to stay alert.

  She was only nine when she first overnighted in the woods. The sun had set more quickly than she’d foreseen, and she didn’t feel comfortable moving about after dark. She climbed a tall tree and hung on for dear life all night. Every sound terrified her. The next morning, when it was finally bright enough to see, she shimmied down the tree and ran home.

  Her grandfather never said a word, just kissed her on the forehead and tucked her into bed. From then on, the sounds of the forest became increasingly familiar to her, and she could recognize their patterns. She began to stay out for days at a time.

  She brought back her first stag when she was ten, straining mightily to drag it on the sled that she’d fashioned. The villagers watched her warily from their windows as though witnessing sorcery. Only Calix had run out and helped her drag it to the drying racks. Cera came out too, but only to tell her that she smelled terrible, smile, and saunter off. Grandfather prepared the meat while Kala slept for a full day.