Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1)

by Ward, Matthew

  "Justice has nothing to do with this."

  "You're a fugitive. Justice is everything to do with this."

  Was there perhaps a tone of discomfort in Quintus' voice, a suggestion that he was ill at ease with his current course? I wasn't sure. "Fine. What happens if we give ourselves into your custody?"

  "The same as I told you before, my lord. I'll hold you at the guard house while I attempt to straighten this out – or not – as the evidence merits."

  He was wary, worried about giving something away, perhaps? I was wary too. Quintus was playing this entirely too cautiously for my liking. His pride had to be hurting from how I'd escaped his clutches before. Why hadn't his men broken out the axes? It was a tough door, but I reckoned that Balgan alone could have hacked his way through in a few minutes. Except, I realised, Quintus didn't know how many of us he'd trapped in here.

  Even if Constans had betrayed us, Quintus couldn't be certain that faced only Arianwyn and myself. But even that wasn't much cause for delay, unless he had reinforcements coming. Or, I realised, the ominous thought gathering like a black cloud, those reinforcements were already here, and I simply couldn't see them.

  "It's not my decision." I told Quintus. "I'll fetch you an answer." Before he could reply, I opened the antechamber door and slipped inside.

  I moved quickly but carefully. If I was correct, speed alone wouldn't bring salvation. Opposite me, the door to the cavern was closed, just as I'd feared that it would be. I reached for the handle and began to ease the door open.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a quiet voice.

  I released my grip on the handle and spun round. In the back corner of the antechamber, an old woman sat on the edge of a crate, the long folds of her dress a black spill in the darkness. Her hands were gloved – also in black – and a bonnet decorated with raven feathers was perched upon her head. I could make out little of the face through the black mourner's veil hanging from the bonnet's brim, but I didn't need to – the presence I felt gave away the newcomer's identity. For the second time that night, I knew that I was in the presence of Malgyne.

  "Not very curious are we?" Malgyne asked in voice laden with power, despite its threadiness. "Are you struck dumb with awe, or trying to adjust to this sudden and exciting intervention?"

  "Let's assume it's a mixture, shall we?" I asked, forcing bravado into my voice. "That way neither of us loses face."

  The withered lips cracked into a slight smile. "Nicely spoken, Child of Ashana. I was right to prevent my brother from... discommoding... you."

  I said nothing, leery of yielding anything to the wizened figure.

  "As I said," Malgyne continued, "I should be very careful how you proceed. There are six of them in the cavern, and they've already overwhelmed that delightful companion of yours."

  "How do you know all this?"

  In reply, the old woman merely inclined her head and looked at me as a teacher might look at a clever pupil who has just done something woefully stupid. I felt my cheeks warm. I could now add 'Disappointed the God of the Dead' to my achievements.

  "If you have to ask such questions, then you're going to need my aid far more than I realised," said Malgyne. "It is yours for the asking, should you want it."

  This conversation was taking a decidedly peculiar turn. "And the price of this help?"

  "Oh, nothing you'd miss. As a matter of fact, all I'd want in exchange is that lump of rock nestling in your pocket."

  "That's very generous of you. But I'm afraid the answer's no." Or at least it would be until I could satisfy myself that handing something over to the God of the Dead could be described as anything other than a very bad idea.

  "Are you really that arrogant... or simply stupid?" Malgyne enquired, eyes flashing with amusement. "Open that door, and you'll be on the wrong side of six-to-one odds. You've managed some remarkable escapes these last few nights, but not this one. Let me help."

  A dull thud sounded from the gatehouse, followed a moment later by another. Quintus had finally broken out the axes.

  "It appears our negotiations are likely to be cut short," said Malgyne. "I make the offer again: my help for that trinket."

  "Why don't you just take it?"

  Malgyne said nothing.

  I laughed. "You can't, can you? You see, I'm slowly learning to put a little more stock in childhood stories. You can't hurt me because you can't overcome Ashana's blessing. She really is watching over me. That's why you couldn't retrieve it from the funerary urn either. All such things were traditionally sanctified before interment."

  "Yes, yes, you're quite right. Well done." Malgyne hissed, all pretence at friendliness gone. "You should be focusing on what I'm offering: freedom. Not just from this squalid little debacle, but from your wider entanglements. Death stills all tongues."

  The thudding on the door grew ominously rhythmic. "You'll kill everyone harassing me? Solomon, Quintus, their representatives?"

  "Yes." Malgyne was back on balance. "No tongue will remain to wag of Edric Saran's supposed crimes."

  "And that won't present any challenge to you?"

  "Some of my brothers and sisters won't be happy, but their pathetic discontent won't coalesce into meaningful action."

  "And all I have to do is hand over this fragment?"

  "Yes."

  I reached to my pocket, and paused. "Why do you want it?"

  "That isn't your concern."

  "Fine," I took a deep breath. "The answer's still no."

  "I beg your pardon?" Malgyne's voice tightened with menace.

  "Setting aside the fact I've been raised to believe you're a double-dealing, double-crossing creature who cares only for himself..." My temper flared, which was just as well – I'd never have mustered the courage to give voice to these words without it. "...you're offering to kill dozens, perhaps scores, of men whose only crime has been to cross my path. I can't be a party to that. Quintus is annoying, dogged and far too stubborn for his own good, but he's not a bad man. He's a better man than I, if it comes to it." My voice rose with my anger, and I wondered what anyone in the tunnel made of what they were hearing. "I want no part of your offer, and I want no part of you. You're going to leave now."

  "You're a fool. You can't win," Malgyne said flatly. I had the distinct impression she wasn't talking about my immediate travails.

  "Perhaps," I allowed, my voice low and hard. "But in the meantime, I'm going to open this door, find Arianwyn and get out of here. And I'm going to do it without your help."

  "Brave words." The old woman sneered. Then she was gone. I wasn't sure how; one moment she was there, the next she wasn't.

  Brave words indeed. It was time to transmute them into brave actions, if I could. Reaching out for the door again, I stepped out into the cave.

  There were, as Malgyne had said, six intruders, their uniforms dripping from their swim under the sea gate. Presumably Quintus had despatched them to unbolt the entrance, and the bonus of our capture was as welcome as it was unexpected.

  Four were praetorians, their armour divested – presumably to make their underwater entrance all the easier. The most distant praetorian held Arianwyn at the canal's edge, her arms pinioned and a knife at her throat. The other three stood in a line a few paces further forward, each holding a lantern and a drawn sword. At the very front stood one of Quintus' constables and Lieutenant Nierev. Her presence awoke a pang of nostalgia. A few days earlier, I'd lived in a world where gods were mythical and I contended with but a single charge of murder.

  "Edric Saran, you are marked by guilt for murder, theft, evading justice and other crimes." Nierev sounded confident, and she'd every right to. Despite my earlier assertion, I'd no idea how I'd get out of this. With no other options presenting themselves, I'd have to trust Quintus' sincerity. "If you surrender, I promise no harm will come to you until your guilt is proven."

  One of the praetorians cleared his throat. "Actually, ma'am, that isn't going to happen."

  S
o saying, he stepped forward and stabbed Nierev in the back.

  At the lieutenant's side, the constable stared wide-eyed for a moment, then reached for his own weapon. Or rather, he tried to. His sword didn't even clear his scabbard before another praetorian's blade pierced his heart. I wasn't sure what was going on, but the odds had just shortened to four-to-one, possibly even four-to-two, if I could get Arianwyn free.

  The praetorian who'd killed Nierev stepped neatly over her prone body, "Lord Solomon paid us quite handsomely to ensure you'd attempt an escape. Fortunately for the good citizens of Tressia, it'll fail. I doubt you'll get more than ten paces. Sadly, we weren't able to stop you killing these fine officers of the law before we brought you down, were we lads?"

  There was a murmur of assent from the other praetorians.

  I drew my sword. If I was hoping for a blaze of white flame, I was disappointed. Whatever properties the blade had held in Otherworld, here it was merely steel. It would have to serve.

  "I suppose you want me to hand something over first?"

  "Don't trouble yourself, sir," said the praetorian. "I'm quite happy to take it off your body."

  At his feet, Nierev moaned and shifted. She was still alive, though I had no idea for how much longer. Then again, the same could be said of Arianwyn and myself.

  "You're all fools," shouted Arianwyn. "There's no way Solomon will let you live. You know too much."

  "You're wrong, miss," said the praetorian. "His lordship has promised this'll be the first of many lucrative opportunities."

  I bet he had. The strawjack had taken a heavy toll of Solomon's hired muscle, creating fresh vacancies for the morally flexible.

  "What if I pay you more than he's offering?" asked Arianwyn.

  "Sorry miss, we're practical men. Even if you could better his price, which I doubt, none of us wants to upset his lordship. He's not a man you disappoint, if you understand me." He turned his attention back to me. "Now sir, you've earned something of a reputation as a troublemaker, so I've an offer to make."

  It didn't sound much like one I'd enjoy. "Go on."

  "If you surrender yourself peaceably..." he jerked a thumb in Arianwyn's direction, "...we'll kill her quick and clean – she'll not feel a thing. Probably. Otherwise, she'll take some time dying, if you take my meaning."

  I took his meaning. I let my sword fall slackly to my side and my shoulders slump. "There's nothing I can do to convince you?"

  "Sorry sir, I've become quite attached to the idea of bringing a notorious criminal to book, especially as he's Hadari royalty. Perhaps it'll be worth a medal. I've always wanted a medal."

  The speaker waved his two unburdened companions forward. Behind them, Arianwyn struggled uselessly against her captor.

  I let my shoulders slump further. Spurred on by this gesture of acquiescence, the praetorians came on with far less care than they should have. One, eager to claim the renown of being the one to kill me, outpaced his companion. I let him get within two paces, then went for him.

  I knocked his sword aside, drove him back with a swift cut at his eyes, then lunged at his stomach. The praetorian collapsed to his knees with a pitiful wail. The sound cut off as I twisted the blade free and hacked at his neck. There could be no quarter. These men deserved whatever fate I could manage.

  Seeing his companion fall, the second praetorian bellowed, discarded his lantern and charged. I stepped back, hoping he'd falter and lose momentum. He didn't. The sword came down with skull-splitting force. I parried desperately, knocking the blade aside with a stroke guided by luck as least as much as skill. Again and again, he hacked down. I blocked each strike, but each parry forced me further back.

  Over my attacker's shoulder I caught a glimpse of the leader. He looked surprisingly calm, but then his share of the profits had just increased by a significant margin.

  "Kill her!" he ordered Arianwyn's captor.

  Those words redoubled my strength. I unleashed a flurry of vicious blows, driving my opponent back. But Arianwyn was too far away. There was nothing I could do except avenge her.

  Except I wouldn't need to avenge Arianwyn. At least, not that day. Realising her current struggles were having little effect, she slammed her head back into her captor's face. There was a howl of pain as his nose broke under the impact, and another as she stamped hard on his instep. Ducking free, Arianwyn turned around, and raised her hands. White light flared, and the praetorian arced away into the canal's murky waters.

  The leader looked markedly less happy. He was down to a single minion, and though I couldn't break my attacker's guard, nor could my attacker overwhelm mine. Even worse, Arianwyn, whom he'd clearly underestimated, bore down on him with vengeful determination. More than vengeful determination. A nimbus of white light danced around her shoulders as she advanced, a trick I'd never seen her use before and, furthermore, one I guessed she hadn't known she possessed.

  Something in my expression struck a chord with my opponent. He followed my gaze and gasped briefly before the threat of my sword forced him to lend me his full attention once more.

  Whatever else the leader may have been, he was no coward. Or perhaps he simply realised there was no escape. Sword grasped tight and lantern held high, he moved to confront Arianwyn.

  He'd taken but a single step when Lieutenant Nierev, whom we'd all discounted, hauled herself painfully up onto one elbow, and plunged a dagger deep into his calf. Her last energy spent, Nierev collapsed. Snarling with pain, the praetorian collapsed to one knee. Turning his attention away from Arianwyn, he rounded on Nierev and hacked down.

  "NO!"

  A wave of white energy burst forth from Arianwyn's outstretched hands. It swept the leader off his feet, flung him backwards at ferocious speed, and slammed him into the wall with a bone-jarring crunch. He hung there for a moment, then plunged to the ground.

  My opponent's gaze darted to his fallen leader. I was ready for the opening. I downward stroke struck the wavering sword from his hand. A thrust stole his squandered life.

  The thud of axe-blows on the outer door was no longer drowned out by our battle. Arianwyn took two steps then sat down, the light around her flickering and fading. She trembled with exhaustion, but I couldn't let her rest just yet.

  I crossed to join her. "We have to get out of here."

  There was no reply. Arianwyn's face was wet with tears. I grabbed her shoulders. "Arianwyn? You need to get us into Otherworld. Quintus has a small army beyond that gate, so we can't swim for it."

  "No," she said in a small voice. "I can't do it, I can't."

  Was she thinking of Malgyne again, I wondered, or was she simply exhausted? "You can. You must. Don't you see? We've no other choice."

  She stared blankly, then wiped her face with a sleeve. "I'll try."

  Picking herself up, Arianwyn crossed to a patch of wall that, to my eyes, looked no different to any other, and began to trace a portal on the stone.

  With little else to do, I examined the bodies strewn across the floor. I found no trace of the praetorian who had fallen into the canal. The others were all dead. The leader was a mess of blood and broken bone. He'd hit both the wall and the floor with more force than I cared to imagine. All had lion amulets similar to the one Quintus had worn. Was this how they'd protected themselves against the guardians? Just in case, I pocketed a pair.

  The constable was dead also, but Nierev was alive, if barely. She lay unconscious in a pool of blood far too large for my liking, but I supposed she might survive if help reached her quickly. I tore a tabard off one of the dead praetorians and bundled it under her head, then shrugged off my cloak and swathed her tight. Finally, I took one of the lanterns and set it upright beside her.

  "I'm sorry," I breathed. "I wish I could do more."

  Nierev's eyes twitched slightly open. Clearly she was not so far gone as I'd assumed.

  "Not... your fault," she muttered haltingly. "Go... Just... go."

  With that, her eyes closed and she fell silent once m
ore.

  A final, splintering crash sounded from the antechamber.

  "Edric?" Arianwyn called, her voice shaking. "It's time to leave."

  "Yes," I said softly. "Yes it is."

  Taking one last look around the room, I followed Arianwyn into Otherworld.

  Nineteen

  We emerged into an Otherworld at war.

  I didn't realise at first. There were no ghosts in sight, just the ever-present shroud of green-hued mist. Otherworld's counterpart to the vault was as seldom-travelled as the one we'd left.

  My first thought was to check on Arianwyn, but I was curtly rebuffed. Cuffing tears away, she set off down the tunnel at a brisk pace – there were no gates here to bar our way – without a word.

  It took no great genius to work out she was upset about the praetorian she'd killed, but there wasn't much I could do to help unless she started talking to me again. So I simply followed in her wake, close enough that she could talk to me if she wished – and more importantly, so I wouldn't lose her – but far enough distant that she wouldn't feel crowded.

  It was only when we emerged onto the dockside and into the familiar company of ghosts and fading buildings, that I became aware of the shift in Otherworld's status quo. A battle raged on the quayside, a contest fought between strawjacks and revenants. There were fewer of the former, but they had the better of the fight. As Arianwyn and I ducked out of sight behind a crumbling wall, I saw a single strawjack take at least a dozen blows from the revenants' smoking swords. It still managed to tear two of the spectres to murky scraps before collapsing from its wounds. The ghosts were clearly unperturbed by the fighting in their midst. Or at least they didn't register it, for they flowed around the combatants as if they weren't there.

  "What's going on?" I asked in a low voice.

  "I don't know," Arianwyn whispered – the first words she'd said to me since we'd entered Otherworld. "I've never seen anything like it. Do you think they're here for us?"

  "Not exactly. That brawl seems to have all the hallmarks of an old grudge being resolved. We saw Jack was making gains the last time we were here. Maybe this is just the inevitable result." I remembered Jack's words to Malgyne. 'Open war – my servants against yours.' Had this been what he'd meant? "I don't think we want to draw their attention; can you take us around?"