Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1)

by Ward, Matthew

  At that moment, Droshna charged out of the mists, roaring a challenge as he came. Once, twice, three times he swung his enormous blade, each strike sweeping royal guards from their feet. Then he lowered his shoulder and slammed full tilt into the knot of warriors surrounding Calda and Marlon. Other fallen streamed in his wake. Screaming foully, they took their blades to the dazed and scattered foe.

  Calda was knocked off her feet by Droshna's mad charge. Before she could rise, the giant's steel-shod boot stamped down on her weapon arm. Calda's scream of pain almost drowned out the sound of snapping bone.

  I hacked madly at the fallen between me and Calda, no thought any longer given to my own defence, but there were too many. Droshna laughed darkly. His sword came up high. The laughter ceased as Marlon stepped forward and slammed his mace into the giant's ribs.

  The Tressian general was a big man and that blow would have crushed an ordinary opponent. Droshna barely felt it. Turning his attention from Calda, he bore down on Marlon, ignoring the Tressian's desperate flurry of blows. Each strike had the force of the first, and exactly the same lack of result. Droshna didn't even attempt to defend himself, and laughed each time the mace cracked home.

  Marlon didn't retreat; he didn't take so much as a step backwards. Whether pride or anger made him stand his ground, I would never know. As the next blow landed, the giant grabbed Marlon's weapon-hand and crushed his fingers.

  I felled the last of my foes, and ran to the Tressian general's aid. I was still several paces away when Droshna's sword swept the Tressian's scarred head from his shoulders.

  Droshna saw me bearing down on him. His eyes widened briefly as they flicked to my sword. Then he laughed again, picked up Marlon's headless corpse and hurled it at me.

  It was the last thing that I had expected. Before I could think about dodging, Marlon's dead weight bore me to the ground. I struggled to rise, but couldn't manage the leverage to shed my burden. I shifted and bucked, but all I achieved was drenching my clothes in Marlon's blood. I was as penned as surely as in a cage. Even the meanest wretch could have ended my life had it wished, but no one dared rob Droshna of his kill.

  Droshna loomed over me. "It seems you have nowhere to run. Any last words, whelp?"

  I stared up at my death. "None I'll share with you."

  Droshna smiled wolfishly. "You're a Saran, are you not? It's been some time since I killed a member of your glorious line."

  I heard a wet, tearing sound. Droshna staggered, roaring in pain. Calda Cadvar was on her feet. She trembled with pain and effort, but she had a determined look in her eyes, and fully half her sword-blade buried in Droshna's back.

  Droshna lurched around, the force of the movement ripping Calda's sword from her hand. She spat once in the giant's face, then his backhand blow sent her spinning away.

  Droshna ripped Calda's sword from his flesh, and advanced on me once more.

  "You're no warrior," I yelled. "You're a butcher and a coward."

  I'd hoped to provoke a reckless attack, something I could have turned against him, but such was not to be. Instead, Droshna just laughed and raised his sword for the final blow.

  "Still persecuting those who can't fight back, Viktor?"

  Arianwyn emerged from the ranks of the royal guard, her voice unwavering as she addressed the monster who had been her family's enemy for generations. She was alone. Where were the guardians? Surely they'd have been a match for Droshna, but neither Jaspyr nor Fredrik were in sight. There was just Arianwyn, looking ridiculously frail as Droshna towered over her.

  Seemingly unaware of the danger, Arianwyn stepped around Droshna to stand between he and I. Fallen rushed to intercept her, but their master waved them angrily away.

  "Arianwyn, get back!" I shouted.

  She ignored me.

  "What is this?" Droshna mocked. "A Hadari prince hiding behind a woman's skirts?"

  "No," Arianwyn said evenly. "He's not hiding behind me; I'm standing in front of him. The difference is subtle, but important." She knelt and kissed me softly on the forehead. "Do you remember when I told you that a time was coming when I'd not leave your side? That time is here, dear Edric."

  "No. Please, don't do this," I begged. "He'll kill you."

  Once again, she ignored me. Regaining her feet, she turned back to Droshna. "I challenge you for the life of this man."

  He laughed. "Ridiculous."

  "Scared?" Arianwyn asked.

  "No, little one. I'm going to kill you both anyway."

  Arianwyn closed her eyes. "Then be quick about it."

  Droshna's eyes narrowed. He hefted his bloodstained sword – the same blade that had all but wiped out the Sartorov Paladins, and had killed Ashana alone knew how many brave souls that day – and brought it slashing down.

  Arianwyn caught the blade less than an inch from her brow.

  By rights, that killing weight of steel should have hacked through Arianwyn's slender hands without slowing. Instead, the enormous blade stopped as if it had struck stone. Droshna started with surprise. He tried to wrench the sword clear, but Arianwyn's grip wouldn't be broken. Light seeped from between her fingers, its brilliance inching along Droshna's sword.

  "You're a Trelan!" Droshna snarled.

  His struggles became a touch more determined, almost desperate. Why Droshna didn't simply drop the sword, I didn't know. Perhaps he couldn't.

  Arianwyn's eyes flicked open. Her body glowed like a star. "I've wished these many years that I weren't. But I'm the one your master promised as payment." She smiled wickedly. "Here I am, Viktor; you'll never have a better chance to claim me. Tell me, am I everything you wished for?"

  The light flowed across Droshna's hands and burst into brilliant flame. He bellowed as the fire raced across his wrists and forearms.

  "You don't understand, do you Viktor?" Arianwyn ground on. "Can you not hear history laughing at you? Once again a daughter of Tressia stands between your blade and the life of a good man. How did that work out for you last time, Viktor?" Her voice hardened. "How do you think it's going to work out for you now?"

  Droshna's only answer was a roar of pain. His whole body was aflame, his skin blackening. Arianwyn released the sword and it burst into ash. Droshna doubled over, bellowing in agony, his hands hooked into claws. For a moment he stared at Arianwyn. Then, still ablaze, he fled back through his own ranks, and into the city.

  With Droshna's retreat, the fight went out of the fallen. Some edged back, others ran full pelt for the city walls. Even those nearest to Arianwyn and I didn't spare us any effort. Escape was now the only thing on their minds.

  As they ran, Arianwyn fell to her knees at my side Together we managed to tip Marlon's corpse clear.

  "You were right Edric, you were right." Arianwyn said tiredly. "The magic was here all along – I just couldn't see it. I was looking too hard for a tree, when what I sought was the forest."

  That explanation didn't make a lot of sense, but I didn't care. "When did you work it out?"

  "At about the time I caught the sword." She smiled weakly.

  I gave her a long look, but left it at that.

  Hadari and Tressians were flooded past us and towards the gate. The last thing anyone wanted was for the fallen to hold the entrance to the city against us, or man the walls.

  Torev led them, his limp slowing him not at all. A line of fallen legionaries formed a shaky shield-wall to hold back pursuit, but Torev simply formed his own wedge of Tressians and battered it aside. Only the royal guard remained in place. Other warriors could capture the gate. Their duty was to the Emperor alone.

  Arianwyn staggered and I moved to catch her.

  "I need to rest a while," she apologised. She seemed on the verge of collapse, so I lowered her to the floor. "I can feel my magic again, but using it's harder, much harder. I think Droshna took all I had. But it was worth it.".

  "Where are the guardians?"

  "Watching over Eirac."

  "He's alive?" That was welcome new
s, for all kinds of reasons.

  Arianwyn nodded. "He was when I left him. I decided the life of an emperor was worth more than my own."

  I strongly disagreed, but didn't argue. We'd argued too much. I sank to my knees next to her. Just a few minutes rest, I decided, then I'd get going. A few minutes later, I felt no better, and resolved to rest for just a few minutes more.

  As those last minutes drained away there was a thud of hooves and Morecet cantered out of the mists.

  "And where have you been?" I demanded tiredly. "You were supposed to be keeping me alive."

  "I am many things," he sniffed, "but a worker of miracles is not amongst them. Fortunately it seems Miss Trelan is. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "you've kept me busy enough as it is."

  With his professional reputation thus defended, Morecet dismounted. "Now, if you've quite finished barracking me, I bring summons from your emperor. It seems the gate is in our hands and he'd like your counsel on how to proceed. Miss Trelan is, of course welcome to make use of my horse. We can't have the paymaster getting worn out, can we?"

  Twelve

  As things transpired, I didn't see Eirac immediately. The fallen had regained something of their courage once within the city walls, and heavy fighting broke out in the streets near the gate.

  Fortunately, it turned out that we still had many companies untouched by the initial battle, and I spent much of the next hour helping Torev gather and direct these forces. At no point did I join the battle directly. One way or the other, my people had been robbed of leadership – both warleaders and the Emperor were either badly wounded or slain – and it was far more important I fill that gap than bloody my own sword out of pride.

  Torev wasn't so restrained, and led from the front. Buildings and alleyways had to be secured if our army was to advance, and no one fought harder in this cause as the gruff paladin.

  In many ways, I shouldn't have minded. Each pack of fallen fought like cornered rats, and Torev's redoubtable presence in the forefront saved many lives. Sadly, he was the only living Tressian commander who knew who I was, which meant every attempt I made to send him Tressian reinforcements soon became a battle of wills between myself and the regiment's commander.

  Only when Morecet gave me Solomon's seal did I finally start to overcome this problem – no Tressian wished to risk angering the master of the Tower of Dusk. I presented the seal reluctantly at first, but soon came to rely on it more and more.

  "I feel like he's won," I told Arianwyn gloomily. "Every time I use that seal, I'm condoning Solomon's methods."

  She shrugged. "You're just buttressing your authority. Don't let it worry you."

  "I'm using fear, not authority. It's an important distinction."

  "Is it necessary?" she asked impatiently.

  "Well..."

  "Don't hedge. Is it necessary? Yes or no?" I didn't say anything, and she took her answer from that. "Well then, use it while you need to, and throw it far away as soon as possible."

  There was no arguing with that tone of voice. Through it all, Morecet just watched with aloof amusement. It wasn't just the seal, if I was being honest with myself. As soon as I'd entered the city, I'd realised that the mists had become so thick that I could no longer see the moon. If I couldn't see the moon, then Ashana likely couldn't see me, and I feared that I'd no longer benefit from her protection against Malgyne and his revenants.

  I finally found my uncle in a garrison room of the newly-captured gatehouse. Like all of the city's buildings, this had been twisted as the mists had swept over it. No longer was it a vision of carefully set and straight-edged stone, but a crooked structure of blackened timber. Raven motifs adorned finials and lintels, and withered black ivy curled woefully about doors and windows.

  The royal surgeons had wasted no time in turning the barracks into a healer's station, and slowly but surely worked their way through the battle's injured. Wounds were treated, and the mortally injured were quietly ushered into Ashana's care.

  Arianwyn chose to remain outside. I decided she'd be safe enough – both of the guardians and Morecet were at her side. I was starting to grudgingly trust Morecet – certainly he'd saved my life enough times in the last hour. I just hoped I wouldn't be given cause to regret it before we were done.

  As befitted his rank, my uncle had a room away from the prying eyes of others, and I had to negotiate my way past several scowling bodyguards to reach him. The royal guard were not happy to have nearly lost their emperor, and would have turned me away had not Eirac noticed my presence and ordered that I be allowed to stay.

  Eirac was pained and embarrassed, but alive. It transpired that he'd taken his wounds in the first moments of the battle, and considered it a woeful failing that he'd lasted so short a time.

  My uncle would live, of that I was sure. The bloody gash on the side of his head looked serious, but head wounds always seemed that way. More troublesome were a pair of gouges in his right leg. Though the royal surgeons assured me that neither was life-threatening if proper care was taken, they also advised that it would be impossible for him to ride a horse for some time to come. Eirac's brief career as a warleader was over, at least for now.

  None of this prevented my uncle from taking a detailed interest in the battle outside. When I told him about the fighting in the streets, he nodded.

  "It was always a possibility. I believe Aidon's greatest worry was not getting into the city, but what we'd do if we did. He was always such a pessimistic soul."

  "We'll break through." I hoped I was right.

  "Perhaps, but how long will it take? Malgyne's reinforcements are limitless. Every moment we're delayed gives him time to summon more."

  I winced. I'd recognised that possibility some time earlier, but I was surprised my uncle had seen the problem so clearly. Perhaps I'd underestimated him. Eirac laughed, then frowned in pain as he disturbed his wounds.

  "Please Edric, I know I'm only a figurehead, but I've a mind and I can use it if pressed." He shifted in his chair, and went on more seriously. "We need a way through their lines, and we need it soon. Let others play at being warriors. It's not strength we need now, but cleverness. Find a way."

  I smiled ruefully. The words were friendly enough, but there was no mistaking the fact that I'd been given an order. "Yes majesty."

  I found Calda a little while later, in a room crowded with surgeons, wounded warriors and the stink of blood. Her sword arm was broken in several places, but otherwise all she'd to show for her clash with Droshna was a variety of scrapes and bruises. She didn't seem grateful for what had doubtless been a lucky escape, but constantly shifted and squalled as the surgeons attempted to splint her arm. I urged her to be patient, but all I received for my trouble was a stony glare.

  "Patient? Patient?" she exclaimed. "I need to get out there and make that black-hearted gordomer pay for what he's done."

  "Actually, I think you'll find Arianwyn's already attended to that for you," I said, with a small amount of black amusement.

  Calda stared at me. Not a muscle in her body moved as she took in what I'd said, allowing the surgeons a brief opportunity to tend their charge without being struck by the flailing of the very arm they sought to mend.

  "I don't believe it. That soft-shelled, pale-skinned... No, I do believe it. You wouldn't dare say so if it weren't true." She exhaled slowly. "I'm beginning to understand what you see in her." Calda looked around. "She's not here, is she?"

  "No," I replied. "She's waiting outside."

  "Good. I'm glad she didn't hear what I just said."

  Of which part was Calda speaking, the borderline-contemptuous description, or the grudging compliment? Probably both. I decided to pass neither on to Arianwyn.

  Leaving Calda to her vanishing patience, I found Arianwyn and Morecet waiting for me in the lee of an abandoned tavern.

  "What news?" Morecet asked.

  "Calda and the Emperor are alive," I said. "Though neither could be said to be entirely happy. A
ny developments out here?"

  "One or two," answered a familiar voice.

  Constans offered his hand in greeting, and I took it gladly. "It's good to see you," he said warmly, "though you've let an awful lot of foreign ruffians loose in my city. Most distressing, but I'm sure you'll think of a way of sorting it all out."

  Arianwyn gave her cousin an exasperated look. Morecet gazed at the eternal as if something repulsive had crawled out of the sewer.

  I smiled. "It seemed like the thing to do. Arianwyn let one lot of ruffians in, and I didn't want to be left out. Why are you here?"

  "What do you mean, why am I here? I live here," Constans seemed to be warming to his theme, but a withering look from Arianwyn spurred him to seriousness. "I'm acting as Quintus' eyes and ears."

  "Quintus is still alive?"

  "Last I saw, which was about two hours ago. After you left there didn't seem to be any point holding onto this section of the city, so we went north and linked up with Solomon."

  Arianwyn stiffened. "So he stayed and fought?"

  "He did. Made quite a good job of it, by all accounts," said Constans. "Then again, the fallen haven't bothered with much north of the Silverway."

  "Why?"

  "Jack thinks that the... that Death is focused on expanding his influence out to Fellhallow. If he can do that, Jack's power base in the living realm will be shattered and there'll be no coming back. Life can't exist if the avatar of the living is destroyed"

  As ever, I found it disconcerting to hear Constans speak of the voice in the back of his head. Worse, I was sure he'd almost called Malgyne 'the Raven' again – perhaps it wasn't really Constans speaking at all.

  "Then we're running out of time," Arianwyn pressed. "The mists were already halfway across the Toriana Plains a few hours ago. If Jerack is neutralised, we'll have lost our only chance of closing the portal.

  "That had rather occurred to me," Constans said dryly. "However, I can't help but notice that your army seems to have become a little, well, stalled."

  He pointed down the street. I followed his gaze and saw another fight had broken out in the middle-distance. Malgyne had sent reinforcements – probably not enough to beat us, but certainly enough to pin us in place.