Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1)

by Ward, Matthew

  By proving themselves vulnerable, the revenants had delivered a blow to my credibility. I didn't care – it meant we'd a chance at winning the fight. Without being told, the praetorians shifted their fighting style, exploiting weaknesses wherever they were offered.

  After two revenants exploded into ash, the rest grew cautious. Had they been our only opponents, I'd no doubt that we could have carried the day, but a second wave detached themselves from Malgyne's side and moved to reinforce their ghastly kin.

  The first praetorian died soon after that, stepping out of our line to deliver a killing blow. Before he could retreat, three pairs of ghostly hands dragged him onto a cruel blade. Constans stepped into the gap, his daggers flashing to dispatch another revenant.

  "I don't want to seem alarmist," he said, "but I rather think we're about to be stranded."

  He was correct. Revenants filed down the aisles to my left and right. Whether they intended to attack us from the rear or simply to bypass us entirely made little difference. "We need to fall back."

  Constans smiled, parried an opportunistic thrust and produced a smoke bomb from beneath his tunic. "Nothing easier."

  He lobbed the canister into the revenants' ranks. There was dull crack, and an explosion of dirty grey fog concealed our opponents from view.

  Under cover of the confusion, our small band dashed back the twenty or so paces to where the nave met the atrium. We could no longer be flanked, but the archway was too wide for seven of us to hold. Fortunately, Quintus led another dozen praetorians to thicken our ranks.

  "The councillors can keep order now," he muttered, pushing his way to my side. "They've got to be good for something."

  "Where's Jamar?" I asked, thinking it odd he'd not insisted on joining the fight.

  "He's trying to help that lassie of yours get the door open."

  "Are they making any progress?"

  "Let's focus on our own problem, shall we?"

  The revenants came forward again. This time, there were near fifty – the survivors of our first clash joined by the two flanking parties. More were emerging from the abyss. Quintus and I had maybe a score of men. Even with the benefits of a choke point, it was clear that wouldn't be enough. Every time a revenant was dispersed, another took its place. Whenever a praetorian fell, there was no other to replace him.

  We'd have been overwhelmed had not several citizens, their fear overcome – or more likely outweighed by the chance of survival – took up discarded weapons and joined the battle. Some had clearly seen service in the war, and these brought respite to our embattled line. Others were well-meaning, but ultimately as much a danger to themselves as the creatures they fought. After four of the volunteers fell, Quintus left the battle line and dragged the less competent clear before they could get themselves killed. This cost us the services of one of most dependable fighters, but Quintus doubtless saved more lives that way than he could have with bladesmanship.

  "Ha! That's it!"

  A deep and tortured groaning sounded hard on the heels of Arianwyn's triumphant shout – the cry of wood and metal protesting at motion. Risking a glance towards the doors, I saw Arianwyn slowly draw the leftmost open. Her sedate pace betrayed nothing of the effort it must have taken to overcome Malgyne's enchantment, but her eyes were screwed shut, and her brow gleamed with perspiration. I glimpsed the night sky beyond the widening gap.

  Now came a new problem. The drama in the cathedral had not gone unnoticed by the crowds outside. The closest tried to force their way through the doorway, only to be all but trampled by those fleeing the battle within. Quintus hastened to the doors and bellowed instructions. Lord Karov joined him, the councillor's presence lending an authority that further quelled the panic.

  A revenant's blade hissed past my head, tearing my attention back to the battle at hand. Half the praetorians were down. A handful writhed in agony, but most were deathly still.

  I banished my attacker with a lunge, then dragged a wounded praetorian clear. Another revenant's blade hacked down. I abandoned my grip on the injured man, and made a clumsy parry.

  Suddenly Jamar was at my side. His sword battered the revenant's blade away, then split the skull-helm and banished the creature beneath. As I regained my footing, he drove a new attacker back. Then he heaved the praetorian from the floor and thrust him into Constans' waiting arms. "Get him out!"

  Constans nodded and half-led, half-carried the praetorian away.

  The door had stopped moving, though whether Arianwyn was unable to move it further or had simply chosen to husband her strength, I couldn't tell. Even at rest, the door emitted that mournful screech, and I sensed Arianwyn's battle with Malgyne's spell was not yet done.

  "I thought you'd abandoned me," I told Jamar.

  "You were not born that lucky, savir," he replied, deadpan. "Although the lady makes for much better company. She complains less." He reached to his right and hauled a praetorian clear of a killing blow, then felled an unlucky revenant with a vicious thrust. "As nice as it is to fight these things on an equal footing, I'd like to leave."

  I found no grounds to disagree. Almost all of the survivors had escaped into the square. My shrinking band of praetorians and Arianwyn notwithstanding, only Quintus and Constans remained.

  Quintus, joined us, his expression grim. "Time to retreat, my lord. But easy does it. We don't want anyone getting left behind?" There was a gleam in his eye and I wondered just how willingly he'd made the transition from the army to the constabulary.

  Under Quintus' steady guidance, the wings of our line folded back until we were a tight ring. It was a formation of desperation. The tightness of the circle meant each man was exposed to the attacks of two or three revenants, and could count on little help from his similarly embattled fellows to either side. If the revenants broke our ring of blades, we were done for.

  We edged towards the door, moving as quickly as we could, but not so fast as to risk losing our footing on a floor slick with blood.

  Quintus and I held the closest arc of the circle and the fighting was desperate. Or at least I found it so. It had been a long, exhausting day, and my arms and legs felt like lead. Worse, the praetorian to my right was slowed by a heavy gash to his leg, and I found myself looking to his defence as often as my own.

  To my left, Quintus cut and thrust with textbook precision, displaying as little concern as if he were tutoring a backward student. I never once saw him resort to something so crude as a parry. My blade-work was nowhere near as precise. It couldn't afford to be. Jamar had taken position in the centre of our group. From there, he pushed his way to wherever the revenants threatened a breakthrough.

  I looked over my shoulder to see a trio of revenants veer towards Arianwyn. Constans' daggers blurred as he kept them at bay. A blade sliced into his shoulder. I winced in sympathy – eternal or not, the wound must have been agonising. Constans didn't even slow. Lunging, he plunged a dagger through the eye socket of his attacker's helm.

  Arianwyn's eyes snapped open. "I can't hold it! It's going!" She scrabbled at the timbers. The white light faded. With a last groan of relief the door swung shut.

  Our formation fell apart. The praetorians ran headlong for the exit. Quintus and I weren't far behind.

  As I ran, Constans snaked an arm around Arianwyn's waist and bundled her unceremoniously through the closing gap. He reached the threshold, then looked back at me, his face torn by indecision. Taking a long step back into the atrium, he threw his weight against the door. Its progress slowed, but it wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough. A few praetorians might escape, but the rest of us wouldn't be so lucky. We were too far away, and too slow.

  Jamar was faster than any of us. Thrusting his way past the leading praetorians, he slammed his shoulder into the door, adding his strength to Constans'. Still the door closed, but slower now, much slower.

  I felt a surge of hope. It might have taken magic to prise the door apart, but raw strength might yet be our salvation. Jamar's boots skid
ded on the tiles, but the first praetorians were through. The havildar scrabbled for fresh purchase, slipped, righted himself and threw his weight forward again as the last praetorians ran past.

  Quintus and I burst through that gap at a flat run, careless of our footing. As I passed into evening air that had never smelt so sweet, Constans pulled Jamar clear. No longer impeded by insolent flesh, the heavy timbers slammed shut with a deafening boom.

  We had escaped.

  Two

  Standing in the square, I'd never have guessed there was something amiss in the cathedral. The sky was dark, but untainted by the unsettling light of Otherworld. There were no prowling revenants. I'd expected to emerge into a mob only fractionally less panic-stricken than the one I'd just helped to save, but apparently I needn't have worried. Arianwyn's impersonation of Sidara had provoked such rapture that much of the crowd had left to carry the good news elsewhere. Others had wandered off when it became plain no other supernatural event was forthcoming. If only they'd known.

  Later, I learned that several constables, acting with an initiative Quintus in no way suspected they possessed, had taken it upon themselves to empty the square as soon as they suspected something was amiss. They then further compounded genius by throwing up a cordon to prevent others from entering the area.

  What remained was perhaps a hundred or so Tressians who obstinately refused to move on, and who the constables now laboured to keep back from the exhausted and terrified survivors. I ignored them – these were problems for Quintus and Karov.

  I expected Quintus to busy himself with the further emptying of the square. Instead he sought out Lord Karov near the base of the Shaddra. Jamar quickly excused himself and went to help convey the wounded praetorians to where they would receive help. Constans had just vanished, as was his habit. This left Arianwyn and I alone on the steps. She sat with the portalstone propped on her knees, gazing at it as if to stare it into submission.

  Deciding to give Quintus a few minutes before interfering in his argument, I sat next to Arianwyn. "How are you?"

  She didn't look up. "Fine. Why wouldn't I be? My home's in ruins, my cousin's not really my cousin and I've just failed to stop the God of the Dead crossing over into the living realm. It's a fantastic day."

  Her words were maudlin, but her tone was not, tinged with a note of wryness she couldn't possibly be feeling. I put my arm around her. She closed her eyes and leaned into my shoulder. Neither of us said anything for a time.

  "What's next?" Arianwyn asked eventually.

  I looked over to the Shaddra. Quintus and Karov were still in discussion. "That'd better be our first port of call."

  I helped Arianwyn up. As we approached the pair, their voices faded to an uncomfortable silence.

  "What seems to be the problem?" I asked.

  "Lord Karov doesn't trust you," said Quintus, never a man to downplay an awkward truth.

  "That's not entirely fair," Karov protested. "I said I saw no reason to trust him. As I might remind you, that was an opinion formed before he helped us escape. I've no such doubts now. You have my full support in whatever you think proper, commander."

  For the first time I'd known him, Quintus looked embarrassed.

  "Commander Morgun was amongst those we lost – he was in the front row when... it... happened," said Karov. "The praetorians need leadership, and I can't think of anyone better suited."

  "And well-deserved it is too," I agreed, enjoying Quintus' discomfort, despite the seriousness of the situation.

  Karov regarded me uneasily. Clearly he was pleased to have royalty, even foreign royalty, endorse his opinion, but distrust – which was still quite current, despite protestations – tempered that pleasure. If any of us survived, Karov would be interesting to watch. By elevating Quintus, he'd laid his own claim on a level of authority that he didn't quite possess. If Quintus flourished, no one would gainsay Karov's decision which would, in turn, consolidate the councillor's own status. It was cleverly done, and quite depressing.

  "If we could return to the situation at hand?"asked Quintus. "I think it's time you and I, ambassador, had a little chat with Solomon. He's being brought here. I've requisitioned a house. We shan't be disturbed."

  "I'm coming too." Arianwyn's tone brooked no argument.

  "Naturally." Quintus pointed at the portalstone. "Solomon was relying on that, and you're the only one of us that has even the mildest notion of how to make it work, so I see little sense in excluding you." He turned to Karov. "I don't expect I'll be long, my lord." His eyes drifted unconsciously to the sealed cathedral. "In the meantime, I'd be grateful if you could mobilise what forces we have left in the city."

  "Under your orders, of course?" Karov asked.

  "Those were not the words I chose, my lord."

  "No, but it's what you meant. Either way I'd be a fool to refuse it. I'll see what I can do. The praetorians and the constabulary are, of course, yours to command. What's remains of the army might prove difficult."

  I frowned. "Why?"

  "I suppose there's no harm in telling you, under the circumstances. Most of our forces are in the west to guard the isles against corsairs, or have been sent south to make sure the Thrakkians don't make trouble."

  Arianwyn scowled. "You're saying the city's undefended?"

  "Not at all," Karov said smoothly. "The tower garrisons are at reasonable strength, and there are the praetorians. That's more than enough to hold the walls while other troops are mustered..."

  "...but not enough to guard without and defend within at the same time?" Arianwyn asked.

  "Indeed."

  "Then pull some of the garrison from the walls." I suggested.

  "I'm considering that course, ambassador. But if you'll forgive me for saying so, I'm reminded that your own army is only leagues away."

  "To watch. Not to attack."

  "So you say, but prudence cannot be abandoned."

  Sadly, I understood Karov's point. Lifetimes of war and a few scant months of peace didn't provide a firm basis for trust. I considered trying to convince him that there was no danger in stripping the garrisons, but I decided against it. Not only was he unlikely to take me at my word, I couldn't be sure my countrymen wouldn't do something foolish.

  "If you'll excuse me?" Karov nodded to Quintus, ignored me, bowed politely to Arianwyn, and then strode away.

  "An ambitious young man, that one," I said to Quintus, careful to keep my voice low.

  "He's all of that," he replied. "But whilst he's giving us what we need, I'm content."

  Remembering Karov's bow, I turned to Arianwyn, who'd gone back to gazing at the portalstone. "A friend of yours?"

  "Not really. I was fond of him once. Remember I told you I'd had three offers of marriage?"

  "Back when you were pretending to be someone else?" I asked innocently.

  "Yes, back when you were behaving like a knave. Anyway, that part was true, as was the part about Dalrand talking me out of the match. He pointed out that dear Mikel was far more interested in my family line than he was in me. There's nothing for you to..."

  Quintus, who had been watching silently from the sidelines, coughed politely. "I'm loathe to interrupt such a vital and fascinating conversation, but can I suggest that we've more important things to resolve?"

  "Of course, commander," I replied. I was determined to enjoy wielding that title. "How long until Solomon arrives?"

  "I'm expecting his lordship to grace us with his presence within the hour." His tone held a warning. My jibes about his rank were hitting home.

  Without further delay, I set off in search of Constans and Jamar. I found the latter first. I asked him to remain in the square. Given Karov's avowed distrust, and the overall seriousness of the situation, I needed someone reliable to keep watch in my absence, someone whose judgement I trusted enough to take appropriate action if needed. Jamar was unhappy about being separated from me, but his practical nature won out.

  Constans was a more difficult
proposition. I finally found him on the edge of the square, staring intently at the cathedral. He looked up as I approached. "You're still talking to me, at least?"

  "So will Arianwyn be, in time," I said.

  He smiled sadly. "I know. It just doesn't make it any easier to live with. I suppose that's why I never told her. On the other hand, the timing could be worse – at least she has you to talk to while I'm in exile. Before, there'd only have been Zorya, who might have failed to grasp the subtleties."

  "I think you might find Zorya's a lot more perceptive than you take her for. Not that it matters; Arianwyn's not talking a very great deal to me either."

  He scratched his head. "I suspect it's a different kind of not talking. But I'm quite certain that's not why you wanted me."

  "No. I need to ask you to do something."

  As I had expected, Constans was cooperation itself. "To be honest. I'd appreciate the distraction. I hate sitting around and waiting for something to happen. That feeling's worse than ever at the moment."

  Something in his tone put me on guard. "What do you mean?"

  Constans was quiet for a moment. "It's not something I can easily put into words. Do you ever feel like you're in two places at once?" I didn't, and told him so. "See? I said it was hard to explain. It's a bit like being in a dream, or at least how I remember dreams being. Unless I concentrate, I mean really concentrate, everything feels indistinct and hazy. I don't like it."

  I didn't like it either. Constans had proven a valuable ally, and I couldn't afford to lose him. I even liked him, despite everything.

  The eternal seemed to read my thoughts. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. It's probably just tiredness."

  But it wasn't, I saw as much in his eyes. Something about the overlay between Otherworld and the living realm was affecting Constans' eternal nature. Constans smiled in an attempt to raise my spirits and I smiled back to show him it had worked, even though it hadn't, and left him to his thoughts.