Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1)

by Alan Ratcliffe

  Cole was disappointed, but clasped the older man’s hand warmly. “You’d better have her ready to sail when we come running along the dock,” he told him.

  The captain grimaced. “I’ll wait as long as I can. But, Cole, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you still have that knife I gave you?”

  “I do,” Cole replied. Unconsciously, he felt for the leather sheath fastened at the small of his back.

  The captain’s gaze was unwavering. “When you see the whoreson whose orders saw my crew slain and my ship burned, bury it in his chest and tell him Olyvar Brandt sends his regards.” He waited until Cole nodded to show that he understood, then he turned and left without a further word.

  Cole stood watching until the captain’s retreating back was swallowed by the darkness. His parting words still echoed in his ears. He wondered if they would meet again after this night, and whether the old seafarer would be able to find peace whatever happened.

  Then, he turned and trotted after the gang of thieves and cut-throats making their way through the district’s alleys in the direction of the Spire, Raven and Caspian among them.

  * * *

  Trying to ignore the beery, stale-sweat smell of the half-dozen thieves that pressed close upon them in the shadows, Raven peered out across the tower plaza. There was no sign of the emperor’s carriage, but presumably it had beaten them there, for the number of guards had grown considerably from the night before.

  “Fifty,” she muttered under her breath. “More than we were expecting. Can your people handle it?”

  “Fifty, ‘unnerd, makes no odds,” the thief beside her sniffed. Mats, he was called, the appointed leader of their little troop. Like many of his fellows, his attire seemed composed of different scraps of dark clothing, beneath which an oiled leather vest creaked quietly. An unshaven face with narrow, darting eyes was topped by a ridiculous floppy hat with a long black plume, which gave him a curiously foppish air. “There’re more gutter rats in the city than Legion dogs, and there’s nothing a dog likes more than chasing. We’ll wait until they’re away from the entrance, then we goes in.”

  “Where’s Begrum?” Cole hissed from behind her.

  Mats chuckled. “I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting for the King of Copperton to join us, boy. By now he’ll have found some bolthole, dug in deeper than a tick on a mutt’s back while he waits for this all to blow over.”

  She nodded. It had seemed unlikely that the thief-master intended to join their assault on the Order’s tower. “Why does he help us? Why do you, for that matter?”

  “Been a long time coming, this has,” sniffed Mats. “You might as well say that it’s you helping us to bloody the emperor’s nose. Anyway,” he muttered, under his breath, “don’t see why Old Bones acts so superior, still dipped his wick where he shouldn’t have.”

  Raven transferred her attention back to the plaza. Then, she heard the signal they were waiting for. An owl’s hoot rang out through the dusk, and the thieves’ attack began. The eaves of the buildings around the edge of the plaza sprouted an army of huddled figures, and a deadly rain of arrows and bolts were loosed upon the armoured soldiers gathered around the base of the tower.

  With strangled cries, several of the guards fell, clutching at the wooden shafts protruding from their throats and faces. Only those initially caught unawares were felled by the thieves’ opening salvo, however. When they realised they were under attack, the guards raised their shields and formed a defensive ring against the onslaught.

  At a whistle, the rooftop figures melted away and small groups of fighters appeared at the entrances of two streets on opposite sides of the plaza. They didn’t engage the guards straight away, instead cajoling the Legion soldiers; hurling obscene insults and brandishing their weapons threateningly.

  “There isn’t very many of them,” Raven observed.

  “Just wait,” Mats assured her. “You don’t want to scare them off. Even a dog won’t just throw itself into a whole nest of rats.”

  Sure enough, she heard the guards’ officer barking orders, and two squads of ten were sent off towards each group of thieves. The latter appeared to retreat before the squads could engage them, rushing back along the streets away from the plaza. Undeterred, the guards pursued them and were soon lost from sight.

  “Idiots,” muttered Mats witheringly. “They’ll find that the only thing worse than fighting a bunch of our lads on their own turf is fighting them and the other bunch that just appeared from the alley behind them.” He grinned. “That’s the last we’ll see of them.”

  Raven gazed out at the plaza. The guardsmen had been more than halved by the thieves’ opening attacks, but still twenty remained. “Do we go now?” It seemed a big risk, still.

  “Almost,” came the reply. “Be ready.”

  Shortly after half their number had disappeared into the city, other shadowy figures began to emerge from the streets and alleys around the plaza. Raven was taken aback by their number; while they might lack the discipline of seasoned soldiers, they were at least four times as many as the armoured foe they faced. This time, there was no cunning plan. Their voices raised in guttural battle-cries, the thieves charged en masse, converging on the remaining guardsmen in a chaotic tide.

  The fighting was artless and brutish, and despite a staunch defence the guards were swiftly overwhelmed. There was a second, brief, flurry of action when the door to the tower crashed open and a dozen reinforcements poured through; alerted no doubt by the shouts from outside. This second clash was over as quickly as the first.

  “Now,” hissed Mats, and their small group hurried across the plaza to the tower entrance as the last of the sun’s light faded. “It was nice for them to open the door for us,” he added with a leer. “That saved us a bit of work.”

  Raven glanced at the mass of bodies around them. It didn’t escape her notice that at least as many wore the thieves’ distinctive dark clothing as the imperial sigil. “It seems like a heavy price to pay,” she murmured.

  She hadn’t expected a reply, but Mats offered one nonetheless. “That’s the way of it for most of us down here,” he shrugged. “There’s no life cheaper than a gutter rat’s.”

  They hurried through the tower entrance. It felt like they had been building up to this moment for so long, that to now be standing inside was a slightly surreal experience. She looked around at their surroundings while Mats issued orders to the surviving thieves. They stood within a grand entrance hall, its walls dripping with Order regalia. Looking at their green star emblem was enough to send a chill shiver along her spine. But of the Brothers themselves, there was no sign.

  “What are you waiting for, a fucking invitation?” Mats asked hotly. “Let’s get up those stairs while we’ve still time.”

  “Are they all coming up with us?” Cole asked, watching as a large group of dark figures made themselves comfortable around the hall.

  “A bunch of lads will stay inside, bolt the door and watch our backs, the rest will hang around in the streets outside and keep an eye on the place,” Mats told him. “If any of the guards made it back to the palace we can expect a lot more to follow. Whatever you’ve got planned, it best be quick.”

  They found the stone spiral staircase leading inexorably upwards with little difficulty. As they trooped cautiously towards their goal, Raven found herself wondering, not for the first time, what their plan actually was.

  * * *

  At the rear of their group, Caspian was unable to keep himself from running a hand along the column that rose all the way up the centre of the staircase. He didn’t need to ask the others if they had noticed it, for surely it was impossible not to. A smooth column of green crystal, humming and pulsing with light. To the touch it was very slightly warm, while faint vibrations seemed to emanate from far beneath them. It doesn’t behave like any crystal I have ever seen. The thought did not fill him with confidence.

  They climbed
in near-silence, broken only by the soft expletives of the thieves, who regarded the glowing column with deep suspicion. As far as he could tell, though, Cole and the one he travelled with, Raven, hadn’t appeared terribly surprised by its presence. He wondered at what else they had encountered in their journey to make them react so indifferently to something that to him seemed to radiate malevolence.

  The staircase ran up through the centre of the tower like a spine, and every twenty or so feet they climbed a closed doorway led to a new floor. They passed each of these without investigation. “Why are you so certain we must climb all the way to the top?” he asked, mildly annoyed, after one such occasion.

  Cole simply shrugged. “It just feels right,” he explained. “Besides, for every other door we poke our heads through, we risk alerting more guards to our presence.”

  It was a fair reason, he supposed. Still, despite the danger that both surrounded and awaited them, he found their ascent as much of a grind as he had the last time he had encountered a similar spiral staircase. The memory of his time beneath the mountain was still fresh in his thoughts, as a flash of movement to his right caught his attention.

  They were passing by another door, this one with a small open grille set into it. Caspian turned towards it with a start. Cole’s feet had already disappeared around the bend above his head, when there was another quick movement beyond the grille. The fluttering of something small, but it had been too fast for him to identify it.

  “Cas? What are you doing?” Cole had evidently noted his absence.

  “There’s something here,” he hissed back. “In this room.”

  “So? I doubt the other rooms we’ve passed have been empty. Come on, we need to hurry.”

  Caspian stood firm. “I’m going to see what it is. I think... it’s important, somehow.” He couldn’t explain why he felt that, so didn’t attempt to do so.

  He heard indistinct mutterings above him, a whispered argument and then others began to troop back down to where he stood. “Are you sure about this?” asked Raven, doubtfully.

  Caspian didn’t reply. Tentatively, he tried the door-handle and was slightly surprised to find that it was unlocked. He stepped through it into a large, dim room. Nothing but darkness lay beyond small, barred windows near the roof, so the room’s only light came from a number of burning candles set on various surfaces.

  “What is this place?” Cole asked from behind him.

  Caspian looked around. There were several long benches, across the tops of which were scattered a variety of tools, materials and miscellaneous oddments. The ceiling was lined with wooden beams, from which hung mysterious objects. In one far corner, beneath a stone flume, stood a small furnace, the coals of which glowed with a faint red light. “I think it’s a workshop,” he said. “Though what it’s doing here I couldn’t say.”

  They began to wander among the benches, shelves and strange, hunched objects that lay beneath canvas sheets. Curiosity got the better of Caspian, and he lifted the edge of one such sheet to see what it covered. With a gasp, he stumbled backwards into a cluttered bench. The noise alerted the others.

  “What is it?” Cole asked, frowning at the pale expression on his face.

  Caspian could only point a trembling hand towards the sheet, which had fallen back into place as he tripped. Between them, Cole and Raven raised it again. As he had before, Caspian saw his own startled eyes reflected back at him from a smooth black metal plate. Cole tapped it with a knuckle, producing a small bell-like noise. “How is that possible?” he asked Raven. “We smashed it to pieces it only last night. Even if it could be repaired in that time, its head still sits above the bar of the Charnel Arms.”

  Raven threw the rest of the sheet aside. “There’s your answer,” she said.

  Caspian could only stare, agog, at the rows of metal beings. These were bare of the black cloak worn by the other they had encountered, but otherwise appeared identical.

  Cole seemed amused by his friend’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, Cas. These ones don’t seem to be active.”

  “For how long?” Caspian was about to suggest that they resume their climb up the tower, and quickly, when there was another flutter of movement in the corner of his eye. He turned towards it, and a moment later a small butterfly flitted into his vision. He reached out a hand and the tiny creature landed upon it. When he raised it to his face, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was not a living creature at all, but a construction of minute metal strips, wheels and sheets so thin they were almost transparent. In its back span a cylinder no bigger than a grain of rice.

  The others crowded around him. On his palm, the delicate contraption slowly opened and closed its brightly coloured wings, parchment thin, but seemed otherwise unperturbed by their presence. “I know of no smith with the skill to craft this,” Raven said wonderingly.

  There was a rustle from above their heads. “No human smith, perhaps,” intoned a deep voice.

  Caspian jumped, and the sudden movement sent the metal butterfly fluttering away across the workshop. The thieves’ weapons were immediately in their hands, and they all scanned the ceiling. “Who’s there?” Raven demanded. “Show yourself.”

  “As you wish.”

  Just then, one of the huddled shadows clinging to the rafters detached itself from the rest. It uncoiled gracefully towards the ground, until a hideous, inhuman visage hung upside-down before them.

  For a heartbeat none moved. Then Mats cried out angrily and went to swing his sword at the creature. Caspian reacted instantly, jumping to place himself between the weapon and its intended target. “Outta my way,” the foppish thief growled angrily.

  “No.” Caspian shook his head. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “Him?” The thief was incredulous. “What is this you’re blathering about? This is some beast belonging to the Order, or some devil they’ve conjured. We should kill it now before it does the same to us.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Caspian firmly. “I’ve seen his like before.” He frowned. “Well, sort of.”

  Cole gawped. “You mean this is...”

  Caspian nodded. “He’s a Delver.”

  “It has been many years since last I heard that word.” With a stretch, the creature dropped from the ceiling, and then raised itself to its full height above them. Caspian took in the four arms, the insectoid eyes and mandibles, the broad snout. It was almost as if the statue they had found far beneath the mountain had come to life. The creature was almost entirely white, though he could not tell if that was due to age or an existence spent below the earth. It regarded him curiously. “You said that you had seen others like me?” Its tone was hopeful.

  “We found a city underground,” he replied. “Below the mountains we call the Dragon’s Back. There was a room full of great furnaces, and above it a place that looked like a hive forged of steel.”

  The creature appeared crestfallen. “Ah... I know the place. There are none left there now. I thought perhaps you had found others... it was a foolish hope.” It reached out a gnarled claw as the butterfly flitted past. The tiny device landed upon it.

  “You built all these things, didn’t you?” Raven pointed at the rows of metal humanoids they had uncovered. “You created the monster that attacked us, that killed all those people.”

  “You have met one of the Children?” The creature hung its head, ashamed. “What you say is true, it was by my skill that they were built, given life. However, I was but the hammer, wielded by the hand of another.”

  Caspian looked then at the creature’s body. He saw the network of scratches and scars. Some were old, faded. Others were fresh and raw. There were burn marks on its legs and several of its arms, while he noticed that two fingers of one hand were missing. “You’re a prisoner here,” he said.

  The creature nodded. “I was captured a long time ago, by one who resides above. He came to one of our cities, with a number of his thralls. He found me.”

  “What happened to you?” Cole
asked. “Your people, I mean.”

  With tender care, the creature blew softly upon the butterfly’s wings and sent it fluttering back into the air of the workshop. “The same that has happened to all the peoples of our land, or will, in time. An insidious poison.”

  “The crystals,” Raven said flatly.

  “Yes.” There was a great sadness in its voice. “A poison that seems at first a wonderful cure. Later, we discovered that it affects each race that becomes exposed to it differently.” It sighed. “In our case, it was at one time our greatest strength, before it became the death of my people.”

  “What happened?”

  “For years beyond count, my people had honed our skill with metals and alloys,” the creature replied. “Ours was a society of industry, of wonders beyond imagining. Then we discovered the crystals, and it was as though all our works up until then were as primitive as the first daubs of children learning to draw. Our technomancers found a way to infuse our metals with the crystals, and that by doing so, in conjunction with the appropriate runes and other secrets of the forge, we could give life to our creations.”

  Caspian stared again at the rows of metallic assassins. “They are alive?” He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or appalled.

  “Not true life,” the creature assured him. “They can be given simple instructions and will act upon them. But they do not tire, or grow old. For a while, our society prospered, built upon the backs of uncomplaining workers and servants stronger than any of our kind. It freed us to devote ourselves to higher pursuits.” It looked at the floor. “It was unfortunate that none ever thought to investigate the other effects of this miracle substance.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Cole.

  “It was a viper in our midst,” the creature continued. “It meant a death so slow that we barely noticed it happening. We became indolent, sluggish. Where once we laboured, now we rested. When our deaths came we merely passed from one sleep to another. All the while, the Children looked after us, as they always had. It took a century, perhaps more. I had been a young apprentice, still learning my craft, when we first began to feel the effects. By the time I was alone I was old and tired. I was ready to meet my fate, to follow my kin, my friends and colleagues, into the great beyond, when the green-eyed man found me.”