Almost . . . done . . .
Something dark appeared within the water-wall.
Damien strained against the surging power of the sea and peered at the torrential water-wall ahead. “No,” he whispered.
Another dark object followed, then another.
Nausea swept through his body as he watched the empire’s fleet rise and fall with quick succession inside the water-wall. Then, one by one, the bows went up while the stern tilted downward, plunging the ships into the sea and beneath the choppy waters like a child’s toy in a stream.
Damien held back the bile building inside his throat. His only goal had been to raise the barrier and prevent the empire’s ships from entering his nation’s waters. Instead, it looked like he was going to take out the entire fleet—
Debris came rushing up through the water-wall. Broken parts of the ships—beams, planks, and poles—reached the top and bounced along the waves before being flung out in all directions.
A pole came sailing through the air and landed a few feet from the Ros Marinus. It bobbed for a moment before slipping down beneath the stormy water.
Damien gasped and took a step back but kept his hands up. The boundary had not quite reached the western shore, so he could not lock the water in place yet.
More wreckage flew through the air, landing around his ship. A splintered plank landed a foot away from where he stood. More pieces rained down. One hit his arm, sending surging pain across his forearm.
Damien blinked back tears and rain, his hands shaking as he held his palms up. Just a little bit longer—
A beam fell from the sky. He barely had time to step forward before it crashed into the deck, fracturing the planks before the bow. A crack echoed behind him. Damien twisted his wrists and locked the water-wall into place.
There. He was done—
The planks gave way beneath him, plunging him into the dark waters below.
10
Damien hit the water feet first. Frigid water sucked him down into the darkness beneath the waves, stealing his warmth away, the cold hitting his very core. Fear gripped his throat, but he kept it at bay. He opened his eyes to murky shadows and thrust out with his arms while clamping his mouth shut. With a couple of strong kicks, he started for the surface, the severed rope trailing behind him.
Something plunged into the water nearby. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sailor, head down, a trail of dark liquid seeping from his body.
Damien broke the surface and gasped in a draught of air before diving for the body. He reached the sailor and grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him to the surface.
A wooden plank bobbed nearby. Damien reached for it with his free hand and pulled it under his arm. He looked back at the man. He was a Dominion sailor. The man’s face was ashen, his eyes wide open in fear. A hole the size of Damien’s fist was carved out of his chest, as if the man had been impaled on something, then freed of it. Dark liquid gushed from the wound, coloring the water around him while blood trickled out of the side of his mouth, mixing with the water running down his face.
With a cry, Damien let go of the man’s collar and turned away, paddling with the plank beneath his arms. His whole body shook as he searched for the Ros Marinus.
His ship bobbed thirty feet away. Already sailors were scurrying across the deck and pointing in his direction. A wave crashed over him, pushing him beneath the water.
Damien held on to the plank and with powerful thrusts with his other arm, swam upward. When he reached the surface, he found the wave had pulled him farther from his ship.
More ship debris crashed around him, and he spotted another body. Dizziness swept across his mind and black spots appeared in front of his eyes. He could barely feel anything as tremors seized him.
I’m going to die! I’m going to—
No!
Damien struggled back up onto his plank as another wave washed over him.
No, I will not give up! Light, help me!
A small voice in the back of his mind chuckled softly. Why would the Light help you? Look at all the men you’ve just killed.
There was a break in the rain, and Damien looked around. Bits and pieces of a dozen ships were strewn across the waters. And in between broken masts and torn sails were bodies.
Hundreds of them.
Damien clung to the plank, frozen. He did this. He destroyed those ships. He killed these men. Father never told him how much destruction the water-wall could cause.
Oh, Light.
The Ros Marinus maneuvered its way through the carnage toward Damien. A rope was thrown over the side of his ship, a weighted board attached. It landed a few feet from Damien. At first, he stared at the board, his mind and body unable to move.
“Grab it!”
He faintly heard the shout over the waves and storm.
Grab it. He needed to grab it.
Damien blinked as if rousing from a deep sleep and moved. He kicked out with frozen legs, forcing everything from his mind but the board ahead. Finally, he reached for the board and let go of the broken plank.
He held on to the rope and board as a wave swelled beneath him. Once it passed, he placed the board beneath his arms and wrapped his arms and hands around the rope.
A moment later, there was a hard tug and the board began to move. Damien could barely feel his fingers and legs. And his chest hurt. Whether from the cold water or the carnage, he wasn’t sure.
The board reached the side of the ship and began to ascend. Damien held on as the water tried to pull him back under. His arms screamed from the tugging and the weight of his soaked body. He locked his arms and pushed back the feeling.
Moments later, hands reached out and helped him over the railing and onto the deck. He collapsed, out of breath and out of strength. The rain had let up, but the wind raced across his soaked clothes and skin, sending shivers across his body.
One of the sailors knelt down beside him. “My lord, we need to get you belowdecks.”
Damien roused himself and pushed up from the slick deck. Two of the sailors moved to help him, each grabbing him under his arms. Once he was on his feet, they led him toward the doorway where Taegis stood waiting.
“I’ll take him from here,” Taegis said, reaching for Damien.
Damien gave his consent, and the sailors moved away. His whole body was numb, and he shivered violently.
Taegis led him below to the captain’s cabin. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes and into something warm. And I already have the cook preparing a broth for you.”
“Thank . . . you . . .” Damien said between chattering teeth.
Taegis opened the door to the captain’s cabin and led Damien inside. It was a small room, with a single bed built into the bulkhead, a small table nailed to the floor, and two chairs. A lamp swung above the table, the only light inside the room. Two portholes lined the other wall, but only dark clouds and rain filled their glass. Damien started stripping off the wet clothes as Taegis pulled dry, clean ones from the leather bag that sat next to the bed.
He placed the clothes on the table. “I’m going to get that broth for you.”
Damien nodded as he tugged off his woolen shirt.
Taegis shut the door behind him.
Damien quickly changed into the dry clothes and climbed into the bed, tucking the thick covers and furs around his body. He knew only too well how the frigid seawater could steal away a man’s warmth, health, and even life.
After a while, he stopped shivering and turned around so he could see the table and door. Doubts began to rise. Would his father have raised the boundary and let those men die, as he had done? Or would his father have found a different way to save their people?
Damien took a deep, pained breath and closed his eyes. His mind replayed the last hour over and over again, searching for anything he had missed, any way he could have done things differently. But with each recap, he saw no other alternative. If he had let the fleet get any closer, he could not h
ave raised the boundary around the entire coast, and the fleet might have found a place to land.
Damien rolled onto his back and looked up at the wooden ceiling, clenching his hands. He did what he had to do: save his people, no matter the cost.
So why did he feel this deep-seated guilt?
The door opened, and Taegis walked in with a tray in hand. “I have both tea and broth,” he said as he crossed the room. Damien sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Taegis placed the tray on his lap.
As Taegis went for a chair, Damien wrapped his fingers around the ceramic mug and breathed in the earthy scent. A matching bowl sat on the tray with wisps of steam rising into the air.
Taegis pulled the chair over and sat down. “I saw what you did.”
Damien paused, his fingers tightening around the mug. “You were watching?”
“Of course. You did exactly what you were supposed to. You raised the sea boundary—and quite powerfully, I might add. Your father never was able to raise the wall that high.”
Damien lifted the mug to his lips. He blew across the dark amber liquid before taking a sip. The tea warmed his insides on the way down, but he still felt chilled to the bone. “Did you see everything?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“There wasn’t anything you could do.”
Damien worked his jaw. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
“It is good to look back and consider if things could have been different. Sometimes they could have, and we learn from that. However, it is not wise to be too introspective. You did what you needed to do, and now the deed is done. In some ways, this was your first foray into war—a war that will inevitably come if the empire invades our land. And when it comes, more people will die.”
Damien looked down into his mug. “I don’t like it.”
Taegis snorted. “I’m glad you don’t like it. You’re by nature a guardian. Your gift is to protect people. But . . .” He sat back and shrugged. “We no longer live in a time of peace.”
Damien glanced up. “Did my father ever hurt others with his power?”
Taegis frowned. “Once, at least that I know of. There was a company of bandits roaming the Magyr Mountains years back, pillaging and burning their way across the country. They arrived at the Hyr River at the same time as your father. He had no choice but to raise the boundary with them close by, and the river washed the men away.”
Damien paused, then placed the mug down and lifted the bowl of broth. As he gulped the meaty liquid, he mentally disagreed. It wasn’t the same. Bandits were known criminals. Those sailors, however . . .
He placed the bowl down and wiped his mouth. They may or may not have believed in the empire’s agenda. They might have even been conscripts. Damien had no way of knowing. But he still took their lives anyway.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
But Taegis was right. War would soon be upon them, and they needed to be ready or more people would die. Perhaps he could minimize that. “When we arrive back to Nor Esen, I’m going to send out messenger falcons to the seven Great Houses and call for an assembly.”
Taegis’s eyebrows shot up. “An assembly of the Great Houses? One has not been called since the end of the razing by the empire.”
“I know.”
Taegis eyed him carefully. “You will be required to exert your power and influence as grand lord of House Maris. Are you prepared to do that?”
Damien looked down at his hands. He had just raised the sea boundary to save his people. If he had to face the other Great Houses in order to save more people, he would. “Yes. It is too long since the Great Houses met. We must unite and use what gifts we still retain. Perhaps a show of power will dissuade the empire.”
“And if not?”
“There is still the coalition.”
“Yes, but the coalition is made up of lesser lords and ladies and civilians. If you go against the Dominia Empire, you’ll need the might of the Great Houses.”
Damien sighed. “I know. I hope that this threat from the empire will be the catalyst that brings the Great Houses together. The wall between our lands and my water-wall will only hold the empire back for so long. If we cannot find a way to stop the empire now, we will lose everything.” He looked up at Taegis. “In the end, we may need to fight back. Every one of us. Great Houses and citizens alike.”
11
Lady Ragna sat on her throne in the great hall and read the message from House Maris. Young Lord Damien was calling for an Assembly of the Great Houses. She placed the parchment down and gazed ahead.
The massive room was empty, save for the two guards near the front doorway. Long narrow windows lined either side of the hall, allowing pale light inside. Thick columns, hewn from the obsidian stone found within the Magyr Mountains, held up the high ceiling. The air was cold, much too cold for an early summer morning, but the coldness helped keep her mind sharp, and so she welcomed it.
Lady Ragna tapped her finger against the thick wooden armrest. Lord Damien’s message was surprising. This was a bold move for a new grand lord—and a young one, at that. No one had called for an assembly since the end of the empire’s razing over four hundred years ago, after her house had been wiped out.
A bitter taste filled her mouth. Only after her family had been destroyed did the Great Houses finally come together. But by then it was too late.
“They thought too little of our gift,” she whispered. “What could Dreamers do compared to controlling water, manipulating fire, or brandishing light as a weapon? Even House Rafel and House Vivek were highly regarded due to their gifts of healing and wisdom. And so we were given over to the empire and wiped out.”
She straightened and took a long, deep breath. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was protecting her family’s legacy. She stood, the message still in hand, and headed for the door. The guards came to attention and saluted as she approached. She ignored them and headed into the hall.
She needed to know what the future held for her family before she responded back to House Maris. Would this assembly benefit House Ravenwood, or would it hurt her family in some way?
Her gown and cloak flew behind her as she hurried down the corridors toward the sanctuary. The priest would know. Surely by now the Dark Lady had spoken to him.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped into the sanctuary. The sanctum was even chillier than the great hall. Lady Ragna suppressed a shiver. The sanctuary was similar in design to the great hall, only smaller and darker. The windows were set north to allow maximum exposure to the moon and night sky in the evenings. Carved pillars lined the long room, cast in grey stone. There would be a new moon in one week’s time, the best time to hear from the Dark Lady, but she couldn’t wait until then. She needed to know now in order to respond to Lord Damien.
A shadow passed to her left, just beyond one of the columns. She slowed and watched as the priest made his way to the dais. His grey robes were a shade darker than the surrounding stone, and he wore a knotted rope around his middle. His head was covered by his cowl, concealing his face and hair. With his back to her, he stepped onto the raised platform and held out a long stick with a flaming tip. Inside the retable were dozens of candles of different shapes and sizes. With the glowing stick, he started to light each one.
Lady Ragna made her way across the inner sanctuary toward the dais, her gown barely whispering with each step.
The priest paused, his veined hand hovering over a candle. “Lady Ragna,” he rasped before turning around. His watery blue eyes came to rest on her. “What brings you to the sanctuary today?”
She approached the dais and knelt down. “I desire your counsel, wise one. Does the Dark Lady have any words for me?” She did not need to say why. The Dark Lady would know.
The priest placed the stick inside a small silver vase between the candles, ember side up, and turned. He clasped his hands in front of him and closed his eyes. His lips began to move a
s he chanted silently.
Lady Ragna waited. The air around them began to change, becoming almost stifling, like a thick, invisible fog. The priest went stiff. He opened his eyes, now unfocused. “Hope will come from the north. A hope for the Great Houses. That which is hidden will come to light and the broken will be healed. But this hope carries with it the end of House Ravenwood. If this hope is allowed to come to pass, House Ravenwood will be no more.”
Lady Ragna froze. She stared at the floor where her hands were spread out in supplication. The priest’s words echoed inside her mind. The end of House Ravenwood. This . . . this was not what she was expecting.
If allowed to come to pass . . .
She curled her fingers. No, she would not let it come to pass. Too much had been sacrificed to bring her house back to power.
Beware the north.
She looked up. North . . .
Did the words mean House Maris? Or House Vivek? Both were northern houses.
The priest’s body relaxed as he came out of the trance. He blinked his eyes several times, then looked down at her. “Those are the words from the Dark Lady,” he rasped. “Did you need anything else, Lady Ragna?”
“No.” She stood and brushed her gown with cold fingers. “Thank you, wise one.” She bowed her head, then turned.
A heavy weight sat across her mind and heart as she made her way past the columns and back toward Rook Castle. These were not the words she had been hoping for. Since her mother had first revealed to her the history of House Ravenwood, she had worked tirelessly and sacrificed much to bring it back to power. For too long she had seen the derision in the eyes of the other houses and heard their whispers about Ravenwood. What those naysayers didn’t know was that her house had not perished after the empire’s razing. One heir had survived. Rabanna.
Lady Ragna made her way back to her own rooms and shut the door behind her. When Rabanna had first arrived back to Rook Castle after the betrayal of the other houses and years of exile in the Dominia Empire, she had found the mountain nation in disarray, with a new lord leading House Ravenwood. It took years of secret contracts and negotiations for Rabanna to finally find herself as lady of Rook Castle.
Mark of the Raven Page 9
