Chronicles of Steele: Raven: The Complete Story

by Pauline Creeden

  The closest of the horses fell over stiff and unmoving. Raven was flash-blinded as another exploded in a bright blaze and a shower of sparks rained down on the dirt road. The guard scrambled from the chaotic metal fury. But four brass automatons remained in a chaotic stampede toward Raven and the boy.

  Her heart beat a rhythm faster than she’d ever felt. If it were a flesh horse rushing at them, she could hope to spook it or shoot it with her crossbow in hopes of making it veer. But the metal horses had no fear, no mind, made no decisions.

  Forgetting her wounded arm, she lifted the boy and held him to her chest. She removed the crossbow and aimed it in the direction of the horses. Three horses ran abreast directly for her, unavoidable. The fourth ran behind the others. She pulled the trigger and buried the diamond tipped crossbow bolt in the middle one’s brass knee joint. It collapsed, sliding across the ground and tripping the horse behind it in a tangle of legs that continued to run aimlessly in the air.

  The remaining two horses ran within inches of either side of Raven. If she had reached out with both arms, her fingertips would have brushed their metal sides. Heat and steam sprayed them as the two metal horses passed. The screeching grew to a thunderous crescendo. Raven squeezed her eyes shut, and the boy shuddered in her arms.

  A cloud of dirt rained on them in the horses’ wake. The dirt stuck to the water droplets covering her arms and face. Another deafening explosion threw her from her feet, and shards of metal pelted her from behind, before she fell on her side. The shrapnel bit into her arms and back. She shielded Darius with her body.

  Her ears rang. When the danger had passed, she released the unconscious boy and pulled herself painfully to her feet. A large triangle of brass protruded from her thigh. She winced as she looked the boy over. The only spot of blood on him had come from her arm.

  “Raven!” The voice echoed in her head, sounding hollow as if she were under water. “Our orders are to kill you and take the young baron. If you leave the boy and walk away, we’ll let you die of your injuries instead of continuing this fight in futility.”

  Raven shook her head and withdrew her knife. She could hardly feel the throbbing in her leg and arm. Blood trickled over her left eyebrow. She squinted and let the droplet fall to her cheek. Six shadows approached, and the Great Dane at her side growled.

  Jack Grant winced as he studied the reaper. The cream-colored flesh of her exposed arm and face were streaked with crimson. He imagined if she were wearing any color but black, she’d be covered in blood. She brushed her face with her shoulder and cleared the line of scarlet from her eye like it was sweat. Then her eyes grew wide and wild. She darted into the woods.

  Bradley, the youngest recruit in his guard fired a gunshot after her.

  “Hold your fire!” Jack yelled as he grabbed the young man by the shoulder. The soldier’s face glowed red from steam-burn, and his wide blue eyes were the color of fear. Jack made a measured shake of his head.

  Did she leave? Somehow, he doubted it. Her face held no look of defeat, but rather the calculating scrutiny of a woman with a plan. The outline of Nikki, Darius’s Great Dane, stood over the shadowed lump in the moonlight. Watching the woods around them, and remaining keen to any sound, the guard started slowly for the baron.

  Colton pulled up beside Jack, leaning toward him with a hand on the hilt of his sword. A red corded tassel fell over the back of his hand. Dutiful and stalwart, he set his jaw as he said, “I’ll take the rear.”

  Jack nodded and led the group in guard formation, his pistol drawn and hanging in a tense grip at his side. No reason to point the gun at the boy or dog. The whirring of the horse’s legs beside them stopped, and the sudden absence of noise seemed foreign. He glanced over his shoulder, and counted only four men behind him. He scanned their faces. “Where’s Colton?”

  The men’s faces contorted in confusion as they looked around. Finally Bradley’s voice shook as he said, “He was right behind me, I’m sure of it.”

  Jack lifted his pistol and scanned the shadows at the edge of the woods. A faint ringing in his ears refused to silence as he strained to take notice of the slightest rustle. To his left, a twig snapped, and all the men veered their weapons in that direction. When no other sound but his racing heart and labored breathing came, Jack turned toward his men. “Stick together, and keep—”

  Three men Harry was missing. He shuddered as he whispered, “How is this possible?”

  Bradley’s clear blue eyes were filled with tears. He threw down his gun, collapsed, and covered his face with his hands. Sobs caused his shoulders to move up and down. Rupert looked at the young recruit with a sneer parting his lips and met Jack’s eyes. “What’s this about? How can this be happening, Captain?

  Jack hesitated, unsure if he should be honest. “She’s a reaper.”

  Smith paled. Bradley’s sobs grew to wails, but Rupert shook his head in disbelief. “The reapers are human—no better than you or I. She is just a woman, not a ghost.”

  She was just a woman. Jack gave a firm nod, slapped Bradley in the back, and hissed. “Snap out of it. I don't want to die because you failed to do your job as a soldier. Pick up your weapon and keep your eyes open.”

  With a heavy sniffle, Bradley stared wide-eyed at his commanding officer. Snot ran over his upper lip, and his hands shook. He bent down, picked his pistol up from the road, and nodded.

  Jack and his three men faced all directions, walking as though they were surrounded. His jaw clenched.

  To the right, he saw her dark form, running along as though her feet didn’t touch the ground. All the men turned in that direction, firing a deafening hail of bullets into the trees. They were overcome and needed to bring down the ghost—woman—reaper—whatever she was. Soon the thunderous bangs ceased and were replaced by repetitive clicking. They were out of bullets, Jack knew.

  And so did Raven Steele.

  She came out of the woods like a black apparition with streaks of blood covering her face and a sword in her hands. The red cord dangled from the end. Colton’s sword. Like a whirlwind, she kicked Rupert in the ear while bringing the hilt of the sword down on Bradley’s head. Jack took a step back and unsheathed his sword. The ring of the blade drew a quick glance of her violet eyes, and her nostrils flared. Her face contorted, took on the appearance of a wild animal.

  Wasn’t she injured? How could she move so fast?

  Smith stood beside Jack and drew his sword as well. Rupert and Bradley lay motionless on the ground. Jack turned to the girl who appeared to be at least five years younger and fifty pounds lighter. How could she do what she was doing? His voice cracked as he stammered, “What do you want from us?”

  Her face changed. It softened and lost some of the animalistic nature for a moment. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I just want to be left alone.”

  Jack shook his head. “As long as you continue with the young baron, I can’t do that.”

  Her eyes flashed wildly, like a violent sea storm. “You’ll kill him if I leave him.”

  He clenched his jaw, not willing to lie to the girl, but not wanting to admit the truth of what she said, either. “I have to follow my commands.”

  She shook her head. “Isn’t there a higher command than the duke’s?”

  “We are a sovereign country and do not answer to the Court of Nations.”

  She narrowed her eyes and stepped forward. Jack and Smith each took an unconscious step backward. She hissed, “If you answer to no one but the duke, then I have nothing to say to you.”

  With a sudden leap forward, she brandished her sword. In the furious fight that followed, Jack took notice of two things quickly. One, the girl could anticipate movements better than any soldier he’d ever practiced with. And two, the girl was using the flat side of her blade. He wondered why she would make such a conscious effort to keep his guard uninjured. Before, he had assumed that the first two guards who had disappeared were killed, but now he wondered.

  Her breathing grew l
abored, but her eyes were no less vivid. The movements of her arms never wavered in strength, and the blows she created bruised him severely. Sweat dripped from his forehead and into his eyes. She landed a blow with her elbow to the back of Smith’s head, and he fell into an unconscious heap.

  “One remains,” she whispered and turned toward Jack. The way she held Colton’s sword with both hands barely hinted at her fatigue.

  With Smith’s body directly behind her, a maneuver came to his mind. He stepped forward and locked swords with her. Knowing that his only advantages were his strength and weight, he forced her backward, praying she’d forget her footing. As he hoped, she tripped over Smith’s prone form. She flailed in such a motion that he was able to remove the locked swords and toss both weapons free. He caught her by the arm before she hit the ground.

  The reaper gripped his wrist. He pulled her upright in a quick tug, feeling his victory. He tasted it on his tongue as he made the motion to grab her by the shoulder. In a movement faster than he’d seen the girl move yet, she gripped his hand between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it in a direction it shouldn’t have gone. He fell to his knees for the pain and cried out.

  “Sorry, Grant,” she whispered.

  Through the watery vision of his tears, the dark form of the reaper shadowed the moonlight as she lifted a fist and brought it hard against his temple.

  All went black.

  Know in whom one can trust, and in whom one cannot.

  Expose wounds to one for healing; hide them from the other or die.

  DRIED BLOOD CRACKED over Raven’s crusted eyes as she closed them and drew a shallow, painful breath. Stars danced in her vision and filled the blackness behind her lids. Her knees trembled as she fought to stand. The adrenaline that kept her going to this point faded from her grasp like a vaporous mist.

  “Raven?” The boy’s voice sounded unsure.

  “Darius.” Her voice faltered and squeaked as she opened her eyes again. She made it to her feet.

  The young baron stood next to his faithful camel-colored companion. His fear-filled eyes warmed her heart. She smiled through the pain and stepped toward him.

  “Are they dead?” he asked.

  She shook her head even though the action shot needles along her neck and shoulders. If she spoke, the tears would come. The look of relief on the boy’s face put her at ease and made her feel more certain about her vow to stop the killing.

  “What will we do?”

  With a deeper, more painful breath, Raven forced herself upright and gauged her surroundings. Through her childhood she had travelled this same road several times to New Haven with Gregory’s family. The road itself did not lead to their house. She needed to find the deer trail near the end of the woods, before they reached the farmland. It couldn’t be much farther.

  One of the men behind her moaned, and her heart leapt to her throat. It was enough to make her blood start pumping again. She rushed toward the boy and his dog. “Hurry. This way.”

  Each step shot a sharp sting up her leg, but she had no time for pain. She held the pace of a forced march with the boy occasionally hopping into a jog to keep up.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace safe.” Blackness crowded the edges of her vision, framing every direction. Not now. She couldn’t afford to black out now.

  “Where?”

  She found it, the worn path almost hidden by fallen leaves. An October breeze picked up and chilled her flesh, causing bumps to rise on her now exposed arms. She crossed them, rubbing each forearm. Her second sleeve hung in black tassels, torn and tied to her right thigh to stave off the blood flow. “Come this way.”

  When it seemed like they’d been walking the animal trail for almost an hour, she noticed the lack of chatter in the woods. The three of them were causing the leaves to rustle too loudly. Her stealth had fled with her strength, causing her feet to drag. Even her limp had become more pronounced. And who could force a nine-year-old boy and his one hundred-fifty pound dog walk quietly through the woods? She giggled at the thought of it, and suddenly she couldn’t stop laughing.

  Just a little farther. Ever notice how that almost sounds like just a little father? Who would have a little father? The world tilted in a see-saw motion. She giggled more.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded her head and collapsed to the ground, face first. The heady scent of earth and rotting leaves assailed her as she embraced the blackness and swimming stars.

  “Raven!” The boy shook her shoulder.

  The soreness in her arms and back screamed and pressed her to wakefulness, but her legs felt numb, useless. With a series of snapping noises, Darius was removing the crossbow and sword she’d stuck to the magnets on her corset. He pushed her shoulder, helping her turn over. The silver moon shone between the bare branches of the oaks and maples whose leaves made a soft landing for her. Water soaked through her coat. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

  “What can I do? Should I go back to those men?” Darius’s blue eyes shone in the half-light, and tears glistened on his cheeks. He removed his jacket and covered her shoulders, arms, and chest, tucking it on the sides.

  Her abdomen tensed, and she couldn’t stop shaking. Through her stiff and clacking jaw she struggled to keep her words steady. “No. Keep to the path. Climb the hill and keep an eye out for it. The path is easy to lose on the other side. Once you’re past the first farmer’s field, you’ll see a rose bush. It will be bare and thorny—no flowers now. But when you see it, turn left and follow the edge of the field. It will be hard to see in the dark, but there’s a house on the right just before you get to the river. Take my night vision goggles. Find that house and get the doctor. He’ll come. Say my name.”

  The young baron nodded and ran.

  Heavy droplets of rain exploded on Raven’s face and arms. She squinted at the sky. The faintest hint of dawn showed behind the pregnant gray clouds overhead. Cold. The shivering took over, and her teeth ached from chattering. She let herself drift into a semi-conscious state.

  Memories and dreams intermingled in this shadowy realm.

  “No!” Raven’s father slammed his fist on the table, causing the cup that held his juice to tip and spill the orange liquid over the hardwood table.

  Raven jumped. First, as a response to the sound of the slamming fist, and second, to get the dishrag before the juice seeped into the cracks between the planks of the handmade table. She’d never be able to get the sticky, syrupy liquid from between them if they made it past the surface.

  At eleven years old, she’d already become more than a daughter to her father. He treated her as an equal. He never talked down to her and respected her opinion. She took on so many of her mother’s domestic duties in the three years since losing her.

  Raven pulled herself up to her full height before saying, “Father, I need to know how to protect myself. By refusing to teach me the reaper’s way, you’re leaving me as defenseless as mother was the day she was taken from us.”

  His violet-blue eyes shone with unshed tears as they met hers. He pulled the unwashed black hair from his forehead, looking tired from the two days of work. Home for two days, gone for two. Her father returned this time with the pelts of six animals for market.

  “If she’d had the heightened senses of a reaper, you know she would have seen them coming. She could have been saved.” Raven’s voice shook from the truth of it, knowing the words pained her father as much as it cut into her own chest.

  Raven moaned and shifted, trying to alleviate the pain in her side. The adjustment made her thigh scream and pulled her from her memories. Still, the images of her father putting her in a blindfold for training came back to her. She remembered the bumps and bruises she’d received for weeks before she properly learned to anticipate her father’s sudden attacks. Wooden swords, staffs, crossbows, guns, steam-throwers danced in the shadows of her vision. The exhaustion and the cold drew her back into her memories.

>   Gregory’s green eyes pleaded with her, his eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t see why you have to go.”

  Raven couldn’t help but smile at his bare wrists and ankles. He’d grown too fast over the summer, and hadn’t gotten to New Haven for new clothes. She had to look up into his face now and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed his sadness. She tried to smile as she said, “I’ll be back as much…as often as I can, but this is something I have to do.”

  “School is starting next week. Doesn’t your dad want you to go?”

  “This is more important. It would be our last year of school, anyway. You need to concentrate on your studies so you can go to University. I’ve always been a distraction for you.” Her voice softened and her throat grew tight. “Your mom says so.”

  “I don’t care.” Gregory wrapped his long arms around her and put his forehead to hers.

  She closed her eyes and said, “I do.”

  Their foreheads rubbed together as he shook his head. His voice cracked. “You always come back from these trips injured.”

  She half-laughed. Every time she and her father returned from a mission, she had a new wound. “Someday I’ll stop being a reaper and marry you.”

  “Someday can’t come soon enough.”

  When would that day come? Tears mingled with raindrops on Raven’s face. Sobs racked her body until the pain became so unbearable, she welcomed the black curtain of unconsciousness.

  Jack squinted as the raindrops beat a gentle drum on his face. Soon the dirt on the road through Red River Forest would become an utter clay mud pit. How long had it been raining? His head ached and warmth flooded his cheeks when he sat up. Pale morning light filtered through the rainclouds above.

  The scene of carnage surrounding him, looking worse than it had in the moonlight. The twisted metal bodies of the mechanized horses were tangled together in a pile of spikes and sharpened limbs. His fallen comrades were also awakening one by one, and sat up, each with a hand to his head.