by Ben Cassidy
Yearling looked up, and almost dropped the monocle out of his eye. “Tuldor’s beard! Lord Ravenbrook? Who let you out of your cell? You’re to be kept under lock and key until—”
“Shut up,” Kendril said.
Yearling snapped his mouth shut, as much from surprise as any attempt at obedience.
Kendril strode forward into the room. “Where are my men?”
Yearling snatched a map off the desk and rolled it up. “Disbanded, of course. I sent them all back to their homes.”
The sheer stupidity of such an action would normally have been enough to strike Kendril speechless for a second or two, but he had already guessed as much after seeing the state of the courtyard. “You sent them home,” he repeated in a grinding tone. “Well, it appears that you and Blackstone make a good match, Colonel.” He glanced down at the maps that covered the desk. “What’s the situation?”
Colonel Yearling straightened. “Now see here,” he said in a quiet yet obviously ruffled voice, “I should remind you, Lord Ravenbrook, that you are a private citizen now, and no longer have any military—”
Kendril looked up. There was fire in his eyes. “Have the Jombards broken through the Wall?” he said between his teeth.
No one answered.
Unbidden, Kendril walked directly up to the desk where the maps were spread out.
No one made a move to stop him, though Yearling took a cautious step back. The Colonel still managed to keep his monocle in place.
Kendril ran his eyes over the maps and diagrams, his keen mind catching the significance of every pin and marker. “Eru in Pelos,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked back up at Yearling. “How recent is this information?”
One of the other officers stepped forward and cleared his throat. “We’re continuing to get reports by the minute, my lord. But this is as updated as we can make it.”
Yearling managed to retrieve a bit of his courage and command. He stepped forward again with a severe look on his face. “I assure you, Lord Ravenbrook, that the situation is totally under control.”
Kendril whipped his head up and gave Yearling a look that sent him back a step. “‘Under control’?” He swept a hand over the map on the desk. “You call this ‘under control’?”
Yearling didn’t respond. Neither did anyone else in the room.
Kendril turned his head back to the map in front of him. “The Wall is under massive attack. It’s already been breached in three separate locations. There are hundreds,” he shook his head and snatched at one of the red flags on the map, “perhaps thousands of Jombard warriors whose location is completely unaccounted for, and you call this ‘under control’?”
Yearling’s face flushed the color of wine. “I’ve heard enough.” He turned to one of the dragoon officers standing by the wall map. “Lieutenant, summon the guards and—”
“We had one chance,” Kendril said, “if we had kept my militiamen as a mobile reserve we could have tried to plug the holes as they appeared, keep the Jombards east of the Wall.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s too late. Ashes, it’s too late.”
The prick to Yearling’s pride overwhelmed his desire to finish his previous order. “I assure you, Lord Ravenbrook, that this is not the first time I’ve tangled with the Jombards. The Northhampton Dragoon Regiment will stabilize the situation. We will drive the enemy back across the Wall, and then—”
Kendril stared at the lieutenant colonel. “Have you totally lost your mind?”
Yearling stopped, flustered into temporary silence. Every eye in the room was on him.
Kendril pointed a finger at the map without even looking at it. “The Jombards have broken through the Wall. They’re pouring over it in numbers so great that we can’t force them back anymore. If this information is anywhere close to accurate than we have less than an hour before they get here.”
“A temporary setback,” Yearling protested. “A temporary retreat while we muster a counterattack—”
Kendril’s face curled into a snarl of derision. “Counterattack? At this point, Colonel, you’re looking at a total rout of your forces. The Jombards will besiege Stockade, kill the dragoons left outside the palisade barrier, and then move on and burn Redemption to the ground while you and your men are trapped here. The only hope any of us have at this point is to fall back on Redemption and defend the town and the harbor with everything we have until reinforcements can come from Arbela.”
“Abandon Stockade?” Yearling snorted. “I think not. This fort is a much more defendable position than—”
“Who cares?” Kendril growled. “All the Jombards have to do is to put a token force here to pin you and your men inside, then send the main force against Redemption itself. You don’t have the men to push the Jombards back over the Wall, much less break out of Stockade in any counterattack.” He glared down at the maps. “What does it matter how long you can hold up in here? You’re still sentencing every man, woman and child in Redemption to death.”
“Lieutenant!” Yearling said, turning his head to the man against the wall again. “Fetch the guards immediately. I want Lord Ravenbrook—”
“I don’t think so,” Kendril said icily. He put a hand on the rapier that hung once again from his belt. “I’m not playing this game anymore. The next man who tries to put a hand on me dies. Now where are my men?”
Yearling put his hands on the desk. “I told you, I sent them home, as per my orders.”
“Then that’s where I’m going,” Kendril said. He straightened and turned for the door. “Eru willing it’s not too late to muster them to defend the walls.”
One of the officers gave a surprised look. “You’re bringing reinforcements to Stockade, Lord Ravenbrook?”
Kendril paused. “Hardly. You gentlemen are on your own. I’m going to hold the walls of Redemption for as long as humanly possible. If you’re smart you’ll abandon the fort and come with me right now.”
Colonel Yearling stepped around the desk. “I should remind you, Lord Ravenbrook, that my regiment is charged with guarding the Wall itself—”
“Then you are a complete idiot,” Kendril snarled. “The Wall is nothing. It never has been. It’s only a method to protect Redemption and keep the Jombards from killing everyone there. If you can’t see that than you really are hopeless.” He turned, then stopped by the chest near the door.
“You’re still under arrest, Lord Ravenbrook,” Yearling sputtered. “I won’t let you leave Stockade!”
“I think you have bigger problems,” Kendril said. He turned to the chest and flipped it open, then snatched up his black cloak and short swords. “I believe these are mine, and I don’t particularly want them burning with the rest of this place.” He turned to the speechless men in the room. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
Kendril walked out the door.
The town was burning.
Flames danced and leapt into the air like living creatures, cackling and singing as they consumed one building after another. Smoke choked the mud streets. Ashes fluttered down from the blackened sky above, intermingled with burning embers that drifted down like floating fireflies.
Screams sounded through the town, mixed with inhuman howls. A baby was crying somewhere. Gunshots blasted off amid the flames and choking smoke of the town. The clanging of steel on steel echoed down the muddy streets.
Kara stumbled through the mud, her eyes burning and watering from the smoke. She brushed the gray ash off her arms and face, looking wildly about her.
She could only see the fire that blazed away on the wooden buildings to either side of her. Even though there were sounds of fighting, screaming and dying everywhere, she couldn’t see anyone at all.
A small child began crying somewhere behind her.
Kara turned, desperate to find the source of the weeping.
The towering inferno blocked her each way she turned. There was only flames and smoke.
“Watch out,” someone said. It was a young boy’s voice.
Kara turned, startled.
The boy, no more than eight or nine years old, stood next to her. He was dressed in a black hooded cloak like Kendril, and in each hand he held a toy pistol. “Watch out,” he said again. He pointed at the fire directly ahead. “There’s a wolf. I’ll kill it.”
Kara thought she saw something moving through the smoke ahead. It was a massive shape, some kind of beast bigger than a horse. A reverberating growl came from it.
Sudden, unreasoning fear struck Kara’s heart.
The young boy started forward, his toy pistols raised. “I’ve got it,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll kill it.”
“No, wait,” Kara said. She grabbed the boy’s cloak, trying to pull him back. “No, don’t. It’s too dangerous.”
The boy turned around, only he wasn’t a boy anymore. The face was that of Torin, her brother.
Kara fell back with a gasp. She was quite literally seeing a ghost.
“Don’t worry, sis,” Torin said with a lopsided grin. “I know what I’m doing.” There was blood on his shirt, running down from a bullet hold in the middle of his chest.
Kara grabbed at him, feeling a sudden mix of panic and grief. She couldn’t lose Torin. Not again. Her fingers swept the edges of his cloak, but she couldn’t seem to grab on to it, couldn’t pull him back.
The massive beast in the smoke growled again. The ground actually shook at the sound.
“Please,” Kara begged, “please, Torin, stay with me. Don’t go—”
“It’s not me you should worry about, little sister,” said Torin. He pointed ahead through the swirling smoke. “You need to save him.”
Kara looked.
Kendril was sprawled on the ground. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving.
The head of a wolf emerged from the smoke and fire. Its yellow eyes blazed like molten gold. Breath steamed from its mouth. Saliva dripped to the ground in and hissed like acid. It opened its mouth and howled.
Kara was paralyzed. She couldn’t kill that. It was too big, too obscenely powerful. It wasn’t even from this world. There was no way—
“Come on, sis,” Torin said again. “It’s up to you.” He pointed. “Look. The water is hurting it.”
Confused, Kara followed her brother’s pointed finger upwards.
The tall bell tower of a temple loomed directly above them. Water seemed to be raining down from the top, changing into long arrow-shapes as they fell. The drops splashed around on the ground all around Kendril’s prostrate form. Every time a splash hit the massive wolf-creature, it gave a great bellow of pain and rage and backed up a step.
Torin pointed again. “Don’t stop now, Kara. Look, the raven in the sea.”
Kara turned her head.
The flames were gone. The town was gone. Dark, black water stretched in all directions. Cold salt air blew into her face, tossing her short red hair into her eyes. Kara gasped at the sudden cold. She tried to peer into the churning water before her.
“There,” Torin said. “Can’t you see the raven? He’s lost. You have to find him.”
Kara shook from the cold wind, as well as the salt spray that was already drenching her body. She scanned the surface of the black sea, feeling that renewed sense of urgency and desperation.
There. A man. He was sinking, sinking into the tossing waves.
Kara cried out. She started forward and tripped. She threw out her hands, expecting to land in cold salt water.
Instead she landed in warm, golden sand.
She looked up, bewildered.
A sea of golden sand had replaced the dark ocean. The ship was gone. Towering dunes of drifting sand stretched in all directions. A warm wind caressed Kara’s face. Stinging grains lashed against her exposed skin.
She got to her feet, sand falling off her clothes. The heat was intense. Above her head a blazing sun beat down.
Torin stood at the top of one of the dunes, a short distance away. “Find the raven, sis,” he said with a sad smile. “He needs you.”
“Torin—” Kara choked out. Her voice was dry and parched from the sand and wind.
“One is past,” Torin continued. “One is here. Two have yet to appear.” He looked up at the sun, shading his eyes. “To find the key, to stop all three, seek the raven lost in the sea.” He looked down, and pointed directly behind Kara. “Look, Kara. The shadow in the south.”
Kara turned, looking behind her.
The desert swept away as far as she could see. In the far distance, silhouetted against the horizon, were towering black pyramids. And there were shapes moving across the sand, black abominable things that seemed to be more shadow than alive. They crawled, scrambled, and lurched across the desert sand, a great mass of black terror. The smell of death and decay was thick on the desert wind.
Kara tried to scream, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move, couldn’t will her feet to run.
The black shapes, defying logic and reason, and resisting even Kara’s attempt to see them clearly, came right at her, a rising tidal wave of darkness.
Kara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her feet were stuck, immobile.
“There,” came Torin’s voice from behind her. “The shadow is coming.”
The moaning, snarling shapes came at Kara. Shriveled hands reached for her, fingers clawed at her garments.
Still she couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. She could feel the claws of the beast-things tearing at her skin.
“Find the raven lost in the sea,” a voice said in her ear.
Kara woke up.
She sat up, her arms flailing. Someone was screaming. No, she realized with a start. She was screaming.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders. “Kara! Kara! It’s me, Joseph. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
Kara gasped for air. She looked wildly around her, trying to get her bearings.
She was in the hold of the merchant ship, lying on her cot. It was dark, probably still the middle of the night.
Slowly, as if expecting something terrible to erupt out at her any moment, Kara relaxed her body. She was trembling. Her face and arms were covered with sweat. She put both hands over her face.
Joseph let go of her shoulders. He sat down next to her cot. “There, you’re fine. Just a nightmare, that’s all. You were screaming and thrashing around to wake the dead. It must have been some dream you were having.”
Kara rubbed her hands down over her neck, feeling the cold sweat that still clung to her. “No,” she whispered. “Not a dream.”
Joseph leaned back. “What then?” he asked softly. “Another vision?”
Now that she was awake, Kara began to shiver from the cold night air. “I...don’t know. Yes. I think.” She looked up at Joseph with plaintive eyes. “Oh, Joseph, these dreams are so real, but I don’t understand half of what’s in them. I feel like it’s something on the tip of my mind, something that I need to understand, but I can’t.”
Joseph put a hand on her back, and gently massaged her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Kara.” He gave a shrug. “Sometimes dreams and visions are best left unanalyzed.”
Kara looked over at him. “But these dreams are so vivid, so real. They mean something, Joseph, I know it.”
“Well,” said Joseph with a sigh, “I suppose that’s true enough. We’ve trekked halfway across the known world based on a vision of yours.” He lowered his voice. “I guess what I mean is that a vision, if it’s real, will be made clear in the moment that you need to act on it. Trying to figure it out before hand won’t do too much good.”
“I saw Redemption burning,” Kara said, her voice still shaky. “And then my brother was there—”
Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Torin?”
“Yes,” said Kara. She furiously blinked back tears before they could form. “He was there, and Kendril was too, and Kendril was hurt, and there was some kind of terrible beast—”
“A beast?” Joseph asked with a frown.
“Yes.” The words flowed out of K
ara like water from a broken dam. “And then there was a sinking ship in the water, and I was told to save ‘the raven lost in the sea,’ and then a desert—”
Joseph held up both his hands with a quick smile. “Whoa, Kara. I feel lost just trying to follow what you’re saying.”
Kara smacked her fist down on the cot, making the blankets jump. “See? That’s just it. It’s all nonsense, but it all means something too. I just need to figure out what.”
“Wait a second,” Joseph said, “you said something about a raven in the sea, didn’t you? I heard you mention it before, too, when you first came out of the coma.”
“Yes,” said Kara. Her hands still trembled slightly from the nightmare.
“Well,” said Joseph slowly, “the man we met back in Shawnor, I remember he called Kendril ‘Lord Ravenbrook.’”
Kara’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to respond.
A call came from above decks. The ship turned slightly, the wooden sides creaking as water slapped against them.
Joseph and Kara looked at one another for a moment, then both bolted for the stairs.
Outside on the deck of the ship the night wind was cold and fierce, cutting over the black water like an icy knife. Waves smacked and crashed against the bow of the ship, sending white flumes of spray over the wooden deck. The sky above was dark with clouds. Rain hissed perpetually onto the deck.
Another call came from one of the sailors from up in the rigging. “Land ho!”
Kara rushed to the railing of the ship, pulling her green cloak around her against the cutting wind.
Joseph came up beside her. He pointed towards the east. “There. See it?”
Kara peered into the slicing rain and howling wind.
A line of dark land was just visible on the horizon.
“Jothland,” said Joseph. “In a couple hours we’ll be in Redemption.”
They watched the coastline drawing closer for several minutes. Despite the raging wind and relentless rain, neither moved from the railing.
Kara frowned suddenly, her eyes still on the horizon. “Is it dawn already? How long was I asleep?”
Joseph scanned the distant orange glow that was appearing on the horizon. “That’s not the sun,” he said ominously.
