Silver Ravens

by Jane Fletcher

“Right.” Lori picked up the tray. “I’ll see to the others.”

  She found the sleeping guards on the third door she tried. Torchlight from the passage spilled into the narrow room, showing two bunks. She nudged the guards awake, and went through the same routine as before. This took a little longer, due to the darkness and the men being groggy from sleep, but the outcome was the same.

  She stepped back into the passage and signalled to Hippo.

  “Good job.” He grinned at the stunned Iron Ravens. “We’d better give them a hand along. We don’t want to hang around all night.”

  It took a combination of encouragement and firm shoves to get the guards moving. Back in the cell, Gilwyn was now freed from his bonds, but remained seated on the side of his bed, watching with his usual disdain. The first pair of Iron Ravens appeared to have got over their shock and were now willing participants. Widget knelt in the middle of the floor, laying out the small arsenal pulled from his bag o’ tricks.

  Finn looked up from inspecting the weapons. “Right. We’re all here, and we’ve got plenty of firepower to share round. We’ll split into two groups. Me, Widget, Shorty, and Hippo will head straight to the royal apartments. We’ll have his highness with us”—he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Gilwyn—“who knows the shortcuts. BH will lead the rest of you out through the tunnel that got me in here.”

  While Finn was talking, Widget handed out weapons. He pressed a rifle into Lori’s hands. Her first, instinctive reaction was to reject both the gun and Finn’s plan. She was not going to shoot anyone—taking revenge on Rianna could be left to the Silver Ravens—but she wanted to help rescue Tamsin. However, insisting on being part of Finn’s group was idiotic. She would be ignored, and quite rightly so. The Silver Ravens knew what they were doing, and she did not.

  Finn continued. “Co-opt a few more Iron Ravens if you get the chance, but don’t worry if you can’t.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve got thirty minutes. That should see us all in position. I want a nice loud distraction at the keep entrance. Are we all clear?”

  Everyone nodded, except for Gilwyn, who merely gave a bored sigh.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  BH patted Lori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s the same as before. You don’t have to shoot anyone, just make a lot of noise.”

  Lori nodded and continued adjusting straps on the silver breastplate. The secret tunnel from the thrall pen had led to a storeroom full of equipment for the Iron Raven officers. The standard shirt and leather was an improvement on the slave rags, and the metal armour was reassuring, although heavy.

  BH was doing likewise. She slid a crested helmet over her head and joined the man standing watch by the door. “Is it still clear out there?”

  He gave her a thumbs up.

  “Right. Follow me.” BH slung a grenade launcher over her shoulder and led the way, gliding silently between trees and flower beds.

  Lori tagged on at the end. The middle bailey gardens were silent except for the splash of fountains. The first pale hint of dawn silhouetted the castle walls, though the light was not yet strong enough to challenge the brilliant Annwyn stars. Their soft radiance touched the leaves and lawn with silver and turned the cascades to diamonds. Footprints stood out starkly black in the dewy grass.

  They stopped with a view of the inner bailey gates. In the light of guttering torches, four armed sentries stood guard, two on either side. A fay official would be inside the gatehouse, although probably not overly vigilant. The fay had a low boredom threshold.

  BH whispered, “Any ideas? We’ve got the Waters of Clarity, but these guards won’t have seen thralls, so they’ll not fall for toasting the queen’s grandchild.” She pressed the light on the watch Widget had given her. “And we have seven minutes.”

  Lori thought furiously. “Yes. I’ve got an idea. You need to take the Waters and say—”

  BH pressed the flask into her hands. “There’s no time to explain. You do it.”

  “Okay. In that case, you’d better stay out of sight. Just give me the bottle. And the rest of you, follow me. Act like you’re on duty, and are pissed off about it.”

  Lori pushed the helmet down on her head, hoping to put her face in shadow, and marched forwards boldly. The footsteps of the Iron Ravens followed. The sentries on the gate looked surprised, but did not otherwise react. With luck, they would recognise their four comrades, which should ease any suspicions.

  She stamped to a halt. “You’re relieved of duty and may stand down.” She gestured sharply for the others to take their place, then beckoned the real sentries aside.

  “You’ve heard the Silver Ravens got into trouble?” Sharp nods, but the uncertain frowns confirmed that they had been told few other details. Rianna would not have wanted the truth broadcast. “They were in Mud Town and got exposed to Ganymede Fever. Surprising they didn’t get worse in that shithole. Anyway, it’s highly infectious, and potentially deadly. Luckily, we’ve got a cure, if it’s taken soon enough.” She held up the flask. “You need a swig of this. You’ll feel strange at first, and you may have to lie down. But you’ll be all right.” She pressed the flask at the first man. “Well, go on. Don’t just stand there. Drink and pass it on.”

  The first three did not react as severely as those in the keep had done. Presumably, their minds had not been upended to the same degree. However, they were still dazed. The final sentry had the bottle to his lips when a high fay voice called from the gateway.

  “What’s going—” A swish sliced through the air and the words cut off abruptly.

  The sentry turned his head at the sound. Lori rammed her knuckles into his shoulder, jerking him back. “Hurry up. I haven’t got all day. There’s others to see.”

  He took a mouthful which rocked him back on his heels as if he had been punched. Lori retrieved the flask from his slack hands. It was nearly empty, but should not be needed again.

  BH appeared from the darkness. “Quick. Get everyone inside.”

  A fay woman lay dead. Helped by one of Gilwyn’s former guards, BH dragged the body back inside the gateway. The stunned sentries required shepherding, though they put up no resistance. Once everyone was through, two Iron Ravens turned a large wheel to lower the silver portcullis.

  A small metal star was stuck in the dead fay’s chest. BH wiped off the blood and slipped the star into a pouch on her belt. “Much handier than a boomerang.” She looked again at her watch. “And we have a minute to spare.”

  “What’s going on?” One of the sentries had recovered enough to ask questions.

  “You should now remember how Rianna murdered our rightful queen, Bronwen. We’re restoring Gilwyn, her son and heir, to the throne. The potion you drank reversed anything Rianna did to fuck around with your head.” If nothing else, BH’s explanation was technically correct. “Are you for or against us? You have thirty seconds to make up your mind.”

  “Dammit. She…” The man rubbed a hand over his face. “For. I guess.”

  “Great. Wait for my count.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Making a distraction for the main force.”

  “There’s more of you?”

  “Of course. They’re with King Gilwyn and already inside the keep. Don’t worry. You’ve picked the winning side.”

  “Right.” His expression cleared and he pulled the machine gun from his shoulder. “I guess that means I won’t get to off the bitch myself.” He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a bad memory.

  BH glanced at her watch for a final time. “Okay. Three. Two. One.”

  A grenade exploded against the wall of a tower. Automatic rifle fire blasted away, left and right, at no obvious target. Lori slid her finger onto the trigger, feeling quite out of her depth. The thunder of a second grenade rent the air.

  “Go. Go. Go.” BH raced forward, followed by Iron Ravens spraying the air with bullets.

  Shouts came from the middle bailey, audible between the ratt
le of gunfire. Lowering the portcullis had been a smart move. The fighting would be more straightforward without confused Iron Ravens getting involved. Lori raced up steps and into the keep, although the weight of the breastplate slowed her down and she was now some way behind the rest.

  The bodies of two fay lay crumpled and oozing green blood on the floor of the lobby. A boggart burst from a doorway, but seeing her, squealed and ran away again. Explosions and automatic gunfire reverberated from a passage to Lori’s right, but was moving farther away. Letting herself become isolated was a bad idea. The sensible thing was to follow the sounds of fighting

  Lori took a step, and then stopped. The only thing she wanted was to find Tamsin. Who cared whether it was sensible? A fresh blast shook the ground. BH and the others did not need any help making noise, they were doing perfectly well on their own.

  Rianna had always arrived in the audience chamber via a door at the rear, which must be where her private quarters lay. Lori was about to head up the main staircase but heard voices above. A group of sword wielding fay were gathering on the floor above. They were arguing among themselves and showing no sign of yet seeing her.

  Maybe if she ran at them, they would flee, and maybe they would fight. But this was an unnecessary risk, since she knew how to go around them. Lori turned and jogged along the familiar route through the service section of the keep.

  Grasping the rifle was comforting, even with no intention of firing it. As long as she was not seriously outnumbered, all she had to do was look threatening. However, the only people she saw were the boggart cook and helper, cowering under the table in the kitchen. Everyone else had either fled or gone to join the fight.

  She reached the familiar gallery overlooking the audience chamber. The hall below was deserted and quiet, apart from the reverberation of distant gunfire. She leaned over the handrail, gasping to regain her breath. There had to be a way to get down to the main floor.

  A crash made Lori jump. Instinctively, she pulled the rifle up to ward off a blow. However, the sound came from the twin balcony at the other side of the hall. A door had been flung open, then Rianna backed out, followed by Tamsin. Rianna slammed the door shut and ran to the far end, with Tamsin trying to keep up. The lurching, wooden movements left no doubt she was enthralled. Rianna looked back over her shoulder. Her expression was a mixture of fury and doubt.

  Lori hastened along the gallery on her side of the hall, until she was directly opposite where Rianna was standing, clearly unaware of her presence. The rifle had never felt so light in Lori’s hands. She lifted it to her shoulder and lined up the sights, but froze, paralyzed like before. Her trigger finger would not obey her.

  The same door burst open again. Finn and Shorty leapt through, guns drawn. A few seconds later, Gilwyn stepped out behind them, and then Hippo. Widget was last to appear. Tamsin shuddered to a halt, before staggering on, slower than before. However, she was now within reach of Rianna. Finn and Shorty had their pistols raised, but were not firing. They could not. Rianna had Tamsin as a shield. But Lori had a clear shot, if only her finger would unfreeze.

  “Gilwyn, can’t you make her move out of the way?” Finn shouted.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do!”

  The fay were fighting for control of Tamsin, and Rianna was winning.

  Another door opened midway along the gallery, and three half-naked humans stumbled out. They plodded towards Finn, arms outstretched in classic attack of the zombies mode. Riana’s control of her thralls was clearly under attack. Gaius had never moved so woodenly.

  Abruptly, one thrall stood erect, head held high. Her arms dropped by her side. She took two quick steps and dived head first over the handrail. She crashed to the ground far below, with a sickening crunch that gave no hope of survival. Gilwyn had won control.

  “There was no fucking need to do that,” Shorty shouted.

  Gilwyn was unconcerned. “So say you.”

  Finn kicked the legs from beneath a second thrall. The man rolled helplessly on the ground, lacking the motor control to get back to his feet. The last remaining thrall lurched forward.

  The slam of a door reverberated around the audience hall. Rianna had taken advantage of the distraction. She and Tamsin were gone.

  Finn was first to reach the door. “It’s locked.”

  “Here.” Widget tossed a rope to Hippo, who launched himself over the railing, and abseiled to the floor of the hall. The instant his feet were on the ground he rushed to a door, directly under the locked one above and flung it open, revealing the start of a spiral staircase.

  Of course. That was the way down. Lori pulled open the corresponding door on her side of the hall and stepped onto a midpoint landing. With Hippo at the foot of the stairs to the other balcony, Rianna would have to go up. Even if the only thing above them was the roof, maybe there were walkways to other escape routes.

  Lori charged up the stairs two at a time, ignoring the burning in her legs and lungs. Daylight grew stronger with each circle. She skidded out onto the roof of a round tower. High overhead, a flock of seagulls wheeled against a pale turquoise sky, dotted with fading stars. Bands of purple and orange lined the horizon. Sunrise was moments away. Lori braced her free hand on the battlement, gasping for breath, and looked down through the nearest embrasure. On one side, all of Caersiddi was laid out below her. On the other was a sheer drop to the waves, crashing against the rocks, hundreds of feet below.

  An identical tower was a stone’s throw away. Together they formed twin horns sprouting from the crest of the keep, and separated by the sloping roof of the audience chamber. A bitter wave of despair and frustration washed over Lori. Not only was there no way to cross the gap, but the other tower was deserted. The staircase on the other side of the hall obviously had other exits.

  Lori was about to retrace her steps when she heard a sound. At last, two figures appeared atop the other tower. Rianna had taken longer to climb the stairs. Either Tamsin had slowed her down, or she had stopped to block the stairs in some way. Yet this would surely be a pointless delaying tactic. Rianna was trapped with nowhere left to run.

  Yet still she did not stop. Rianna hopped up onto the battlements. Was she going to jump? Tamsin was less graceful, levering herself first into an embrasure and then onto an adjacent merlon. Her actions were wooden, but clearly she was no longer torn in a magical competition between rival fay. In her right hand, Rianna held a small pouch, identical to the one Gilwyn had taken from the cabinet in the study—the shapeshifter dust he had used to transform himself into a giant raven.

  Rianna was not trapped after all.

  Lori shouldered her rifle and braced her elbows on the wall. She could not let Tamsin be taken away. Would killing be easier if Rianna turned into a bird first and no longer looked so human? Lori snapped off the safety and put her finger on the trigger.

  More sounds echoed from the stairwell of the other tower, carried on the morning air. Finn’s group had cleared any obstruction put in their way. But would they be in time to help Tamsin?

  Rianna had also heard. She turned her head. “This isn’t the end. You don’t get my throne so easily, or so cheaply. Look for your captain on the rocks below.”

  Rianna was not taking Tamsin with her. Lori’s blood turned to ice. Both Rianna and Tamsin took a half step, so they stood on the very edge. Rianna dipped her hand in the pouch and smiled sweetly at Tamsin, but her voice was still pitched loudly enough for those climbing the stairs to hear, teasing, taunting. “Good-bye, my traitorous pet. We won’t—”

  Time dropped to a crawl. Rianna’s head was the size of a beach ball. Her profile was silhouetted against the dawn, as clear as a target on the range. The sights on the rifle lined themselves up. The tremors left Lori’s hand and squeezing the trigger was as natural as breathing. The recoil jammed against Lori’s shoulder. For a moment, Rianna was frozen in space, and then she folded, sagging backward, and dropped from view.

  Tamsin jerked upright, her head sn
apping back, like a sleepwalker roused by a jug of cold water. She rubbed her face, clearing cobwebs from her mind, but was unsteady on her feet. Her left knee buckled. Immediately, she fought to right herself. Her arms shot out for balance. It was not enough. Like Rianna, Tamsin pitched over the edge of the battlements.

  The air solidified in Lori’s lungs. She was in a nightmare, where she had no voice to scream. The rifle slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground at the same moment as Finn and Shorty scrambled onto the roof. They looked around in confusion, then raced to the spot where Tamsin had fallen.

  Finn dived over the edge, at risk of falling himself if Shorty had not caught his leg. Hippo, Widget, and Gilwyn also arrived on the roof. The blood pounded in Lori’s ears, blocking whatever Shorty said to them. Gilwyn shrugged and turned away, but Hippo and Widget rushed forward and grabbed Finn’s other leg. Together they hauled Finn back onto the roof.

  Lori worked out what was happening just as Tamsin’s head and shoulders came into view. Lori dropped to her knees, then twisted round so she was sitting with her back against the parapet. Nausea rippled in her stomach and she was shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

  Tamsin was safe. Rianna was dead. And she had killed her.

  Lori held her head in her hands. The images came flooding in. The spray of blood against the morning sky. The fleeting expression of shock on Rianna’s face. Her body, dropping lifeless from the tower. But Lori felt no regret, no guilt, no sorrow. She tried prodding her emotions. Would they come? Beating herself up over killing Rianna would be pointless and stupid, but pointless, stupid things happened all the time.

  Yet, however she felt in the days ahead, Tamsin would be alive and safe. Lori drew another deep breath. Maybe there would be guilt, possibly even sorrow, but no regret.

  Never that.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Someone was knocking on the door. Lori rolled onto her back and groaned. Judging by the angle of the beams squeezing through cracks in the shutters, it was late morning. After the night’s events, she had been sure she would not sleep. However, she had been out cold. Her head felt correspondingly thick and her eyes were gritty.