“Men of the dead tree,” came the sound of a woman’s voice, spoken with a terrible calm. “It is I that should be asking you … what it is that you are doing on my lands.”
“Your lands?” Seig retorted. “I am the governor of this colony! This is my stronghold; these are my walls! And these,” he said, gesturing to the gathered guardsmen, “are my blades. Choose your words carefully, lest I tell my men to shoot your damned birds right out of the sky!”
The guardsmen of the first colony watched, mesmerized by her terrible beauty, horrified by her unwavering, yellow gaze as she strode atop the deck of the ravaged ship.
“I remember the last lord who spoke with such arrogant ignorance,” the woman said as she glided past the foremast and onto the bowsprit. “Don’t you, Zviad?” she said playfully to a hulking beast of a man, whose face seemed sunken, and whose eyes bore the haunting glow of the sickly green.
“Yes, Raveness.” The man spoke with little emotion. “But I have seen for myself a new light, and have repented of my folly.”
“What in the damnable dark?” Pyrrhus said aloud, his skin crawling much the way it had on the godforsaken Isle Dušana.
“Who are you?” Seig demanded, impatient with her posturing.
“Who am I?” the Sorceress asked.
At the sound of her voice, the driver leapt from the bow of the ship and landed on the sandy shore. The Ravens at his command swirled about in a tempest as they began to take form, and with their bodies they hovered as an unholy set of stairs for the woman to descend upon.
“What kind of-” Seig began to ask.
“Soon all will be revealed, Governor,” she said pointedly. “Soon there will be no need for questions.” She stepped effortlessly atop the feathered staircase, descending on the backs of her feathered slaves.
The horses began to stamp and snort in protest, clearly unnerved. The guardsmen swallowed back their fear, counting their numbers against the green-eyed forces of this Raven Witch.
“Who am I, you ask? I am the savior of this darkened world,” she said as her yellow eyes focused piercingly upon him. “I have ruled the west for many years, enlightening all who might wish to be free of the bondage of the dead tree, and ridding the world of all who refuse to see my light.”
“Ruled the west?” Seig argued boldly. “Then how is it that we have never heard a single word about your reign?”
Six of her guards leapt from the deck of the beached vessel, then another six, and finally a third. As the contingent of her green-eyed soldiers landed upon the sand of the beach, they began to file in obedient rank to surround her.
“My lord?” Pyrrhus asked tentatively.
“What is this?” Seig said in bemused defiance. “Not even a score of untrained outliers? Do you expect this puny band of soldiers to defend themselves against the knights of Haven?” He spat. “You are sorely mistaken indeed. “
“But you forget yourself, dear Governor.” Her words dripped with predatory cunning. “This is my land. It is not I, nor my men, that will need defending.”
Seig continued with his show of strength, his haughty pride not allowing him to see the true danger gathering all about them. “We are here by right and by order of the Priest King Jhames himself! I have claimed these lands for him. I command these men and the armies of men that are yet to come.”
“Ah, yes. Your Priest King.” She paused, enjoying the sinister decadence of the moment before she demurely spoke again. “It would be fitting to inform you that I have also laid claim to your walled city, your citadel, your ship, and yes, even your Priest King, for myself. So I ask you … is this the full measure of your strength?”
“That’s blasphemy!” Pyrrhus shouted out. “No one has ever taken our bright city, not while the light of Haven still-” His words fell short at his own realization.
“Dear brazen, flameless knight,” she taunted. “Your precious light has failed you, just like its maker.”
“Your lies will get you nowhere, woman,” Seig scoffed.
Just then, the gaze of the Raven Queen shot up and to her left, for her eye had caught movement on the walls of the stronghold. “What do we have here?” she said slowly and deliberately. “It would seem that the full measure of your strength is not yet present after all,” Nogcwren said hungrily.
The eyes of the Nocturnal soldiers scanned the beach about them, hands firmly gripping their feather-laden spear shafts.
“Bring him to me,” she ordered her driver.
He acknowledged her order with a sinister grin, his lips spreading unnaturally wide and revealing a rotting row of yellowed teeth. He raised his arm like a great conductor, ready to unleash the fullness of his evil orchestration. The birds began to agitate, their voices cawing in unison, their black wings beating in rhythm to the wishes of the driver who commanded them.
“Fly,” he whispered in a tongue unfamiliar to the men of the colony. At his command, the hundreds of ravens shot through the dark sky, their little, black bodies tearing away the tiny thongs that had bound them to the arms of their master. His own blood began to trickle down his ashen arms as he let forth a soul-chilling laugh.
“What in the damnable dark?” Seig whispered to himself as he watched this twisted act of worship.
“That is what your Priest King said to me right before he kneeled to my display of power,” she said coyly.
“Birds or no birds,” Seig said, both afraid and offended, “I will not stand and hear you speak such lies!”
The wind about them began to blow, and the sounds of beating wings and cawing birds began to fill the tense darkness.
“This is a colony of Haven, and I am its Lord!” Seig shouted angrily now. “Neither our homeland nor this outpost will kneel to your witchcraft. I warn you now… leave these shores before my patience runs out!”
Seig threw his leg atop his mighty warhorse, and the rest of his men were happy to follow suit, for they did not wish to spend another moment in the presence of this witch.
“But Governor,” she said as she smoothly strode over to his horse. “I am not quite finished.”
At the last of her words, the angry Ravens barreled into view of the beach clearing, carrying a struggling, bleeding man in their tiny talons.
“What in the name of the THREE who is SEVEN!?” Seig said as he clasped his flint and kissed it without heed to the company he kept.
The birds held the man upright, hovering off the ground. Their sharpened talons dug mercilessly into his arms and shoulders, splaying his body there before them.
“Woodcutter?” the governor asked. The man turned his head toward the sound of Seig’s voice. With great effort he opened his mouth to speak, but where words should have been, the spray of his own blood spewed upon the sandy shore.
“What do you want?” Seig turned to the Raven Queen with trembling rage.
“The same thing I have always wanted,” she said. She approached the captive woodcutter and lifted her inked fingers to trace his bloody face.
“And what is that?” he spat. “Have it then, and be gone from here.”
“Ha, ha, ha… ahhh! Tsh, tsh, tsh!” Her taunting laughter pricked the fear that had been quickly rising in the gathered colony. “So much pride, so much brawn, and yet, so… little… awareness.”
He breathed heavily through his nose, his offense buffeted by his uncertainty and fear.
“Aiénor,” she said matter-of-factly. “I want Aiénor, all of it… and I will not rest, nor cease to raze every city and every stone until I have what I desire!”
“And just how do you intend to do that? It is going to take much more than a handful of blades and your little winged friends to conquer the world.” Seig replied, contempt and arrogance dripping from his words.
“Oh, you are indeed right about that.” An evil laugh erupted from the Sorceress as she threw her head back and raised her arms wide. The men of the first colony stared in shock and in horror as the very air about her began to choke and swell
in a sickly, green mist of her conjuring. From within the fog, the image of two massive dragons slowly emerged, their eyes blazing with a hungry stare. Without warning, a soul-chilling roar screamed out as the image of a blast of fire erupted from within the sorcery.
A collective gasp rang out from the assembled company of guardsmen, and Seig looked back at his men, his bravado unnerved at such a display. His eyes searched their faces before he dared to look at the woodcutter, who still hung suspended by the murder of black birds.
“And…” He swallowed back the bile that threatened to choke his words from him.
“If my ravens are not enough to convince you, perhaps an army and a pair of dragons will.” As she spoke, the fog grew thicker, larger, expanding above them and magnifying the size of the terrible beasts within. The horses grew nervous and the fight that had been nearly boiling over seemed to drain from every last soldier of Haven.
“Convince me of what?” Seig whispered.
“Governor!” Pyrrhus tried to interrupt, but neither Seig nor the witch seemed to pay him any mind.
“That you, like the rest of the wise and powerful lords of these lands, should aid me in my cause. That you should follow in the example of your Priest King and take for yourself and for your men the gift that I so freely offer,” she said, gazing directly into Seig’s terrified eyes.
“Gift?” he asked. “What is this gift?”
“The gift of light, dear Governor,” she said. “Why toil and lay waste to the forests of this world for nothing but a fleeting and tepid glow? There is a light that requires no timber, that burns without a flame. I give the gift of sight in the darkness and freedom from the lesser illuminations.”
“And then what?” he asked. “I seek both flame and glory, the glory of making my own light!”
“Dear Governor Seig!” she said, sweetly now. “If glory is what you still seek; I will not withhold it from you, for though my prize is ever close at hand… my labor is just beginning.”
“Why not just take it all? Take the whole damned world for yourself if you want it bad enough,” he said.
“I cannot force my gift upon anyone, well… not in the way you might think. Besides, what good is a world to rule with no one left to subjugate?” She laughed at her own words, her voice chilling the blood of all the men of the first colony. Nogcwren then returned her attention to the bloodied and bleeding woodcutter before her, studying him ravenously. “Now tell me, Governor. Where are the rest of your men? I would so like to meet them.”
Chapter Six
Seig’s gaze still fixated upon Rolf, suspended by ravens and spread before the Raven Queen.
“Where my men are is of no concern to you,” he shot back to the Sorceress. “Besides, why would it matter to you anyway? You have your dragons, and I am sure a host of magic that could indeed divine whatever the hell it is that you would want to know.” He spat as he spoke.
“Governor, that is not what I asked you,” she said, rage beginning to bubble beneath her words.
“I know it’s not,” Seig replied. “But what does it matter? Dragons may have taken my homeland, but there are yet no dragons here to make me bend the knee. We are done here! Men of the first colony!” he shouted at the top of his lungs now. “You have seen conjurings and tricks, true or not … I can’t be certain. But what I do know is that no conjuring or smoke monsters will force my pledge of fealty to this witch, nor will I heed her orders.”
The men of the first colony nervously grunted their agreement, while the eyes of the Raven Queen began to burn brighter and brighter with her fury.
“How dare you speak to me like this!” she growled.
But he didn’t look to see her rage. Rather, he addressed his men from his mount, wheeling the black steed around to face his own men. “Move out!”
“If you refuse to share your findings, I am sure that he won’t mind speaking on your behalf,” she said as she gestured to the woodcutter. “Tell me, have you come across any that are native to this place?”
Rolf’s eyes glanced back and forth, darting between his lord and this witch who held him by some dark magic. He coughed, choking on his own blood, trying to speak but unable to do so.
“What was that?” she asked him, toying with the bleeding man.
“Have you discovered any others here, living in this place?” she demanded again. “I wish to know if you have seen them trespassing upon my kingdom?”
“Let’s go, then!” Seig shouted out his order.
“But what of the woodcutter?” came the voice of the young smithy. “My lord?”
Rolf began to cough now even more violently as he willed his mouth to speak. “Damn you!” he sputtered out his curse. “Damn you to whatever hell birthed you!”
“Oh, I have already been damned,” she scolded him, her sickly, yellowed eyes burning with the wounded memory. “I remember the day my lover failed me, the day he would not raise his sword to defend me! I heard his wordless curses as he chose those … those things over me! So, curse me all you like, woodcutter, for it was by his cursing, his choice, that I have found my destiny… and as hell would have it … my destiny has now become your demise.”
With a flick of her inked hand, the birds that held Rolf suspended there in front of the audience of guardsmen dropped him to the sandy beach. In a gruesome display of power, they ravaged and raked the flesh of the woodcutter as he screamed in pain. Seig and his men stared in horror at the nightmarish scene that whirled about and before them.
“This is my world, Governor, and all of Aiénor will bow before me; every man and every beast,” Nogcwren raged. “The choice you and your men must make is whether to take my gift and serve me willingly, or choose to end up as another meal for my pets.”
“I serve none save the Priest King himself!” Seig argued.
“Yes, yes!” she interrupted him. “And now your Priest King serves me, we have gone over this before.”
Seig exhaled a tired breath, then kicked the flanks of his horse, moving to take his leave.
Nogcwren lifted her hand and the birds rose up like a black storm, flying over to the young smithy and clawing at his arms.
“AHHH!” Wielund shouted in pain. “No! please no! Let me be!”
“How many more of your men will have to die, until you give me what I want?” She sneered. “I will ask once more. Have you or your men come across anyone else upon my lands?”
“A girl!” Wielund cried out, tears and snot running down his bleeding face. “We saw a girl! Out there in the Wreath!”
“Smithy!” Seig shouted, but the ravens released the crying man and flew obediently towards the governor.
“And what have you done with this … girl?” she asked as her birds swirled about him.
“Leave her alone! She is innocent!” Wieland shouted. Before he could protest further, the sorceress turned around and sent a horrible blast of magic into his chest, silencing the blacksmith forever.
Seig raised his hands to cover his face, palms out, splayed in a show of surrender. “I have done nothing with her!” he shouted back, his words wounded and defiant. “It was those damn woodcutters. They set her free.”
“And where are these woodcutters you speak of?” she said, all too pleasantly. “Besides the one that I have fed to my birds.”
“There!” he pointed over his shoulder. “Out there, on the edge of the forest, and more than double your number,” he replied.
“That was not so hard now, was it?” she cooed. “Your cooperation will have its benefits, dear Governor. So bring me those men. Bring them here to our little stronghold, and let me tell them of the great gifts I have to offer. Let us see if they might more willingly assist me in my cause. If they choose to do so, I will let you become an aide to their kind, serving those who chose to serve me first, just to show you that I am not heartless.” She laughed, amusing herself with her twisted cleverness.
“I will … I will never…” he sputtered in outrage.
�
��Or,” she reasoned coldly, “you and your men can serve me, and I will make sure that both your loyalty and your leadership are rewarded. Either way, you will bring those woodcutters to me.” She turned back to look at the sniffling, bleeding blacksmith. “And … I would very much like to hear of this girl, and how it is that she has found herself free in my lands without first taking my gift.”
Seig thought on it as the ravens still swirled and raged around him. It was both the arrogance of this woman and the impotence of his own strength against her witchcraft that became all too much for him to consider. “What is the girl, this savage… this Wreather to me, anyway?” he said, his gaze still fixed on the fire-lit ground. “Pyrrhus,” he ordered.
“Yes, my lord,” the fire knight said nervously.
“Bring Yasen to me. It would seem that…” he looked up with a sneer of disgust, both for these circumstances and for his own fear. “It would seem that the Raven Queen would like to have a few words with him.”
“My lord?” Pyrrhus asked. “If what she says-”
“You saw the dragons,” Seig interrupted. “King Jhames bent the knee to her, and we him. Now unless you would instead like to pledge your fealty to those woodcutters out there, I suggest you follow through with my orders.”
Pyrrhus kept the rest of his protest to himself, knowing full well that it would fall upon deaf ears. “Yes, Governor,” he answered at last, swinging his leg over the saddle of his own mount.
Seig didn’t so much as look at the knight; his thoughts were otherwise occupied. “And be quick about it.”
Pyrrhus saluted and wheeled his horse about, ready to ride out past the stronghold and then on towards the braziers at the forest line. He caught sight of the blood-streaked eyes of the dead smithy as he did so, and the fear that had made its mark upon Wielund’s face planted its very seed in his own resolve. He spurred his horse, kicking up sand and shell as he did so. “You better know where that girl is, Yasen!” he growled into the darkened dampness. “Or we will all be a feast for her ravens!”
Nogcwren surveyed the scene about her. Although she had not the full might of her Nocturnal strength with her here, both she and the men of Haven knew with grave certainty who was indeed the lord of this land. She smiled, her yellow eyes aglow with both a satisfaction and an insatiable hunger, all at the same time.
The Coming Dawn: Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 3 Page 4
