Raven's Shade (Ravensblood Book 5)

by Shawna Reppert

  Raven thought of how the darkness had taken over Harvey’s thoughts. Could it be that Winter was merely an illusion meant to trick him into dropping his shield and letting the darkness inside? But he’d felt those delusions in Harvey’s mind. They were full of pain and rage. Surely the darkness couldn’t conjure up the image of a long-ago healer who sacrificed her life to save the world.

  On the other hand, how well did he know this darkness?

  “The choice is yours,” Winter said. “I would not force you, even could I. But with my skill and our combined powers, we have at least a small chance of defeating the darkness. It’s the only chance you have of facing the darkness and surviving to return to your wife and your son and the world that you defend. Otherwise—,” she shrugged.

  “So, you will not help me unless I hand myself over to you entirely?”

  “I never said that.” Her voice remained calm despite the implied accusation. “I will do what I can to support and guide you regardless. Though I have not walked this earth as a living woman for millennia, I still have an attachment to it. I still side with the life over, well, not death, death is part of life. But let us say I side with life over this thing that is the opposite of life. I am fairly certain, however, that if we do not combine your strength to my skill, we will not be able to defeat this thing. Even if you do as I say, we have only the slimmest of chances for success. I can promise you that if we join together we will be stronger. Maybe, just maybe strong enough to defeat the darkness.”

  “What are our chances of success? You said last time you had the magic of the whole tribe behind you, magic more compatible to yours.”

  “In my tradition, there is power in the unity of opposites. The object and its reflection; the bird in the air and the shadow it casts upon the earth; male and female; the light raven and the dark. The two styles of magic which in your time you have divided into Art and Craft.”

  “I thought you said you did not believe in divisions?”

  She laughed, and despite this direness of the situation it was a merry sound, like the music of water dancing over the stones. “I never said I didn’t believe in divisions, only that your people make entirely too many of them where there are none needed. So the question remains, my brother raven. When the time comes, will you yield your strength to me so that we may stand together against the darkness?”

  Was it his ego that held him back? Or was it a natural instinct for self-preservation that should be obeyed? He had one chance to get this right, and not nearly enough information on which to base his decision. Not only his life, not only the Three Communities, but quite possibly all of life as they knew it all across this planet was dependent on him making the right choice.

  Winter began to walk again; he followed in silence. It was his nature to stand on his own, to fight on his own. It was what he knew, even if he did not know how to fight this particular enemy.

  The air became oppressive, thick. It pooled in his lungs, weighing them down. The heaviness in the air had nothing to do with the heat, nor with any dust in the air, nor with any natural phenomenon. The eerie yellow of the sky had turned to a deep blood-red, the sort of color that might herald the end of the world. Though he did not know much about Mundane meteorology, he doubted that any natural phenomenon had caused the change.

  “So, how fast will the darkness grow if it’s not stopped?” Is there a chance that somewhere else in the world, some group will have time to band together and stop it if we fail?

  “No one can say for certain. It has always been defeated before. The darkness only came across once in this part of the world, but I know that my brave brothers and sisters in tribes of faraway lands have had to face it in earlier times, and later.”

  “Why then could I find nothing about it in any of the historical records?” Raven asked.

  “Remember that long ago for you is still recent for the human race. There was a long, long history with culture and art and song, and, yes, magic, long before humans made written records. But from what I know, this thing grows massively more powerful the longer it is loose in the world. It is likely that if we do not stop it here and now, no one will be able to stop it later.”

  Even if William had won, even if he had managed a reign of dark magic that swept over the Three Communities, or even beyond to other nations. . .It might’ve taken decades or centuries and a river of spilled blood, but in the end, the light had always overthrown darkness. Even Nazi Germany had fallen in its time. But this darkness was not of this world, and it threatened all of humanity forever.

  “When the time comes,” Raven said at last, “I will yield my power to you.” He could only hope that he made the right decision.

  Raven felt as though icy waters churned in the core of his being, something he hadn’t felt since his first magic duel outside of Guardian Academy, the first duel where there were no teachers to monitor and no safety rules to make sure that both parties survived the encounter. Only the stakes now were much, much higher. Higher than any stakes he had encountered before. Even on that first duel, his confidence in his own abilities had been firm. His nerves then had come from the knowledge that a duel does not always go to the strongest mage, and a lucky strike can give the weaker opponent the victory. When he went up against William the first time, Raven was so fueled by rage and grief that he cared less than he should have for his own survival. He’d had little else to lose beyond his life. Now though, now he had everything to lose, so much more than he ever dreamed of having.

  As he came closer to the cave, he realized that what he had taken merely to be a strange shadow was something else entirely. Darkness streamed out of the cave into the light in the same way that light would stream out of a lamp into a dark room. He stopped, frozen, unable to make any sense of what he was seeing. He turned to Winter.

  She merely nodded once. “Yes, I see it. It has grown stronger. It has been allowed to grow longer, and therefore is even stronger than it was in my time. I fear we have very little time left before it will be unstoppable.”

  Raven took a deep breath. “Lead on then.”

  Raven nearly blasted the figure teleporting in on his right before he recognized him. “Morgan, it’s not the time right now for gathering potshards.” Did the boy not sense the darkness all around?

  Had Raven somehow been wrong all along? Was this boy somehow involved with the darkness? True cases of possession were rare, and usually it involved a mage rather than any kind of demon. But he’d heard of apocryphal tales of the possessed having the power of the entity or mage to control them. Was that what was going on?

  “I’m not here for potshards and I think we both know that. I had a dream last night. The white raven woman was in it.”

  “Hello, Morgan.” Winter said from Raven’s other side.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Raven said.

  “You have Blue Deer’s blood in you,” Winter said to Morgan. “On both sides, as it happens. Her blood runs strong. No wonder I was drawn to you in your in your dreams.”

  Raven wasn’t used to being ignored. He really wasn’t used to feeling out of his depth. He looked from Winter to Morgan, now completely at a loss as to what might be going on.

  “What we are doing is dangerous. This whole area is dangerous right now,” Raven said. “It is no place for a boy.”

  “I’m a legal adult,” Morgan said, jaw set defiantly.

  “The law might say so,” Raven said. “But no one your age is really ready to make this sort of choice.”

  “From what I understand, you were close to my age when you swore to William.”

  “You’re not exactly helping your cause.” Raven growled. “Not to mention, what experience do you have in combat magic?”

  “What we will be doing is not combat magic in any traditional sense of the word,” Winter said.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Raven said.

  Winter frowned at him, a frown that reminded him of Ana when she was disappointed at him. “We a
re not enemies at war, but friends taking council together.”

  Her words left him feeling oddly abashed. Must be her resemblance to Ana. He pushed the feelings aside. “Wait a minute. He said that you appeared to him in a dream?”

  “I can’t recall. Perhaps I did. Or perhaps I will at some time in the future. Time means even less in the dream world than it does in our world.”

  Raven didn’t know what to say. Time always seemed very relevant to him, especially now. The clock was ticking; the darkness spreading. He let the topic of the dream go. “The point is that he is barely more than a boy. I refuse to take someone yet so young into a life-threatening situation.”

  “Isn’t that for him to say?” Winter asked. “You’re not bringing him anywhere, just as I’m not bringing you. He came of his own volition, just as you have. And, whether he had a true dream or not, the fact that he is descended from my beloved Blue Deer, the fact that he turned up at the same time we did, all this tells me that he is meant to be here in some way.”

  “I came to Devil’s Crossing because I was supposed to save him. I refuse to get him killed.”

  “I’m not just your pet project. I’m my own person and I want to do this. I need to do this,” Morgan said, and then more softly, “You’re not the only one who had done things in his life that he needs to atone for.”

  Raven knew that feeling all too well. But Morgan had made one mistake, and he was so young. He had so much of his life still ahead of him.

  “You already paid the dues chosen for you by the system. What we’re about to do, it could be a death sentence. You don’t deserve that.” He turned to Winter. “Can’t you see he’s just a boy?”

  She shook her head. “He’s old enough to make his decision. In the tribes, boys his age were already warriors.”

  “This isn’t your world. Children grow up more slowly here. They’re given time to be children.”

  “I am not a child.” Morgan said. “And you can’t stop me.”

  “He has a point,” Winter said. “What will you do? Tie him up?”

  “You need me,” Raven said to Winter. “You need me more than you need him. If you let him come, I will back out. I have more power to lend to the fight than he does. Can you really afford to lose that?”

  “Why does this matter so much to you?” Winter asked. Her pale eyes looked for the truth, his truth, would be satisfied nothing less than the purest essence of truth.

  “I have seen too many young people die. Some by my betrayal. One by my hubris and lack of perceptiveness. Please, let me save just one. If I go to my death this day, let me go with the knowledge that I saved at least one.”

  He saw Winter exchange a look with Morgan and for a long moment he thought that they would continue to defy him. Then the two of them exchanged small but definite nods.

  “All right then. The boy will wait here where he will be safe while we proceed to the cave mouth.”

  Raven would prefer for Morgan to be far, far away, but he suspected that this was all the concession that he would get. He could only trust that Winter knew what the danger zone would be. Used to being confident in his knowledge, he now had no choice but to put his faith in another. If we fail, nowhere will be safe. The darkness grew heavier, pressed harder with every step. They had traveled only a few yards further when suddenly the pressure was gone.

  He turned to Winter, looking for an explanation of this sudden grace. . .and then the darkness returned, slamming into him with the force of a hundred Hammerhand spells, driving him to his knees.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Winter was beside him instantly, hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing her voice with his ears, or if the voice was in his head, but the words were clear. We make our stand here. Give over your power to me.

  Now that the moment had come, he wasn’t sure he wanted to yield control. No, he corrected himself, he knew that he definitely didn’t want to yield control. He wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to, wasn’t sure his instincts of self-preservation would allow it. If he gave her full access to his power, she could easily drain him to the point where he could no longer maintain his shield, and the darkness would devour him.

  Brother Raven, do you trust me?

  He didn’t allow himself time to think, time to second-guess. He knew what his answer must be. “Yes. Yes I do.”

  Then lend me your strength.

  He felt her power reach out to him like a questing hand. He wanted to shove that hand back, to strike back with spell lightning and magefire. Instead, he let her take hold of his power, hold his very life and soul in her hands. Light flared out from her, beautiful in its purity, and settled to a steady, warming glow.

  Her shield was his shield now, an unbroken wall before them that pressed back the darkness. Winter’s magic was something Raven had never seen before, a kind of combination of ward magic and healing magic, weaving a wall between the darkness and them. She pulled power from him, spun it with her own, incorporated it into the weaving. The woven wall turned a silvery gray from the combination of power. No longer white, but still beautiful. He wondered, briefly, what it looked like to her. Magic looked different for each mage, something seen with the mind’s eye, rather than with normal vision. The darkness battered against the weaving looking for holes, looking for weak spots. The weaving grew taller and wider and thicker, still stunning in its beauty as it shone against the darkness. She pulled more and more energy from him; he gave it all willingly. This working contained the essence of life, building with it, creating from it, not devouring for fuel as death magic did. If the creation cost him his life he would pay the price and feel privileged to do so.

  The darkness wavered, started to fade. Could it be this simple? Could Winter’s weaving push the darkness back, keep it away as curtains at the window kept out the cold of night?

  But then the weaving bulged in as though a strong wind had hit it. The darkness pushed against it, sliding along its edges even as Winter made it longer and taller. The darkness sought a way around the barrier, a way through. Winter pulled more power from him, and then more. Raven started deliberately pushing power out to her. He felt the darkness waver, give way. . .

  And then it shoved back, stronger than ever. Winter staggered against the impact, and a bolt of fear shot through him. Winter took more strength from him; he yielded it willingly. The light held steady. The darkness shoved against them with more and more force. Minutes ticked by. They were at a stalemate. But he and Winter had merely human strength and this thing — Gods only knew. It showed no signs of tiring. With the Ravensblood, they might have had a chance. But the Ravensblood had been destroyed.

  Raven delved down deeper into the core of himself, pulled every scrap of strength and will, and shoved all he had at Winter, giving her more than she would ever take on her own. He could sense that she had held back, trying to spare his life, but that would only end in death for everyone. He thought words to her, not sure if she could hear them, but trusting that she could at least feel his intent. Do it. Take it all. Don’t concern yourself with me. Just take whatever you need to stop this thing.

  The darkness battered at them, battered at them. He had given all his strength, and it still would not be enough. The darkness like a storm pushed harder and harder against the weaving until he could feel the whisper of its breath through the places where the threads had tattered.

  Raven started hearing voices in the shadows, voices of those he had wronged, had killed. Voices of William’s victims from the years Raven had served at his side. Just my imagination. His imagination, fueled by the darkness that somehow took his every regret and horror, turning it and twisting it against him. If the past haunted him, the best way to atone was to hold fast, and keep pushing more and more power toward Winter. The voices warned him that he was too trusting, that Winter took his power for her own purposes, would drain the last of his life in revenge for what his family had done. He pushed away doubt. He would not let the voices drive hi
m to the same madness that had taken poor Harvey Heilman. He had come knowing what the price might be, come willing to pay it.

  His chest burned, his heart pounded, irregularly and too fast. Still he pushed on, though his lungs hurt. His body screamed in pain as he tore from it the living energy needed to sustain it, feeding it all towards Winter.

  The threads tightened, closing the holes, and the weaving held firm. The darkness receded and was gone. He felt Winter tie off the weaving. It was done, they had won. He breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath, joy and disbelief warring in him. It was over, and he was still alive. He could go back to Cassandra and put this whole nightmare behind him.

  The darkness hit the woven wall with twice the power and three times the focus, like a flash flood down a narrow ravine, like wind carving out the sandstone of a canyon. It tore a hole through the weaving. What had been a barrier of magic became a tattered rag. Winter snatched at his magic. He shoved it toward her, as fast as she could take it. All of his reserves were gone; he was working on will alone, the magic consuming his own tissues like a marathon runner who had burned through his fat reserves and whose body was using the last of the fuel the muscles themselves had stored.

  Winter was gathering the torn threads, reweaving them, but not fast enough. Not fast enough, not strong enough.

  Raven screamed in anger and in agony. Every inch of his body burned; it should be impossible for the magic to draw so much from his physical self by will alone and yet he could only demand more of himself, and more.

  Winter started closing the hole, threads of magic a blur of movement as she worked, but he had to keep feeding her the power. His heart banged an irregular beat against his ribs; his breath came in tearing gasps that hurt his lungs. And still, still, it was not enough. He had given his all, and it was not enough. They were going to lose.