Taliesin had no time to pity the Knights of Chaos. She glanced ahead and swung her sword forward to send a blast of energy toward the Wolf Pack. Her magic interacted with Ramla’s fire and created a large wall of fire that spread across the ground, and caught the Wolf Pack as they attempted to retreat, killing them on contact. Another wave of fire from Ramla opened a hole in the enemy ranks, and the Red Cobras seized the opportunity and rode through it.
Ramla took to the air and hovered overhead, clearing away the last of the Wolf Pack with fire balls snorted from his nostrils. Taliesin saw more arrows streak into the sky from each side of the field, waved her sword, and the arrows turned, finding their marks in the archers. As the dragon flew toward the sycamore trees, the remaining Knights of Chaos, eager to give pursuit, rallied with the rest of the Garridan troops that now converged on the area.
Thousands of knights and lancers charged across the field, with Prince Sertorius leading his army, a flaming sword in his hand. Ramla rose higher, snorted fireballs at the front line of cavalry, and Taliesin watched, amazed as everyone burned but the prince. Sertorius alone remained unharmed, waving his sword angrily in the air, as he spotted Taliesin on the back of the dragon.
“That’s enough, Captain Ramla! Rejoin your men,” Taliesin shouted.
Ramla swept through a sky filled with black smoke and headed to the trees. Taliesin sheathed her sword and peered down, searching for the red-cloaked riders. She spotted Ramla’s men riding quickly through the trees. The dragon flew higher and reached the end of the woods before the Red Cobras, where they discovered Garridan infantry waiting in ambush.
Taliesin patted Ramla on the neck and shouted for him to land. The dragon returned to the woods, flying just above the trees, until he found a clearing. The moment his feet touched the ground, Ramla turned back into a man, and both he and Taliesin tumbled across the ground. Taliesin spat out a mouthful of grass, pushed herself to her knees, and saw red cloaks appearing in the trees behind them.
“Not quite the landing I expected,” Ramla said, in a hoarse voice. He stood and held a hand to his throat. “Thirsty…throat’s on fire.”
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I should have warned you. As far as Sertorius knows, you’re a dragon. I’m amazed how well you handled the transformation. You were incredible in battle.”
“So were you,” he croaked.
The last rays of the sun faded, leaving the woods in darkness, as the Red Cobras rode up to them. Ramla lifted his hand as his men came to a halt, listening to the howls of the Wolf Pack. The pack found courage in the dark, Taliesin thought, knowing wolves and Wolfen remained out of sight in the trees, gathering for another attack. Ramla was in no condition to continue fighting as a dragon; he sagged to the ground and she caught him by the arm, pulling him to his feet.
“Steady there,” Taliesin said.
A single horse trotted forward, its saddle slick with blood, and halted in front of Ramla. With effort, the captain climbed into the saddle, untied a flask of water, and took several large gulps. With a smile, the captain handed Taliesin the flask and watched as she took a drink and returned it. Ramla consumed the last few drops and tossed aside the flask.
“They have us where they want us, Raven Mistress,” Ramla said. “Unless you can turn us all into dragons or give wings to our horses, we will die tonight. That much is certain, for I am bone weary, as are my men and their horses.” He held his hand to her. “Climb on and we’ll make a run for it.”
Taliesin took Ramla’s hand and was pulled behind him onto the steed. It trembled under their combined weight, and she knew the animal would not get far before it collapsed from exhaustion.
“I know precisely what is needed to make good our escape,” she said, hopeful her magic remained at full strength. “Let there be fog!”
White tendrils of fog appeared from the darkness, sweeping out of the sky, and circled the Red Cobras as thick and dense as a blanket. Without torches to light the way, it was impossible for them to see in the fog. Although the fog hid the Red Cobras from humans, it didn’t work on the Wolfen, and the Wolf Pack closed in. Heavy breathing and snarls were heard before dark shadows were seen moving in the fog bank, and glowing yellow eyes appeared in the gloom. Ringerike thumped against her thigh, warning of danger. A second later, she smelled the strong odor of unwashed dogs.
“Have faith in me, Ramla. I am going to get us out of this mess.”
“I can hardly wait to see what you conjure next,” the captain said. “All I ask is you don’t turn me into a dragon again. I didn’t enjoy it; if man were meant to fly, he would have been born with wings.”
“Don’t worry,” Taliesin replied. “This is going to be something new. I believe I can transport us all into the Tannenberg Forest. All I have to do is imagine what I want, and it will happen; that is how my magic works. I cannot remember what Penkill Castle looks like, since repairs were made in my absence, so it will have to be Raven’s Nest. I just need to picture all of your soldiers and horses there. I can make it happen if I focus. Do you trust me?”
Ramla frowned. “Mistress, we seem to be at your mercy, one way or another. The wolves are closing in, and they can smell and see us through that fog. We’re the ones at a disadvantage. If you’re going to do it, then get on with it before I change my mind.”
Clearing her thoughts, Taliesin heard Zarnoc in her head. “All you need do is picture it in your head to make it happen. After what you accomplished today, I have the utmost faith in you, child. You can do this—just use your magic, sha’tar.”
An image of the Tannenberg Forest, with its ancient oak trees, pines, ash, and river birch, appeared behind her closed eyelids. She saw the giant oak where Raven’s Nest had stood. Taliesin remembered her home before the Wolf Clan had burned it to the ground, a beautiful place, and happier times. Despite the whispering of the Red Cobras, and the snarls of wolves within the fog, Taliesin forced herself to remain calm; Captain Ramla and his men were counting on her. At the nudge of her heels, their horse moved forward, and the Erindorians quieted as they followed their captain into the fog. Taliesin felt the captain tremble, focused on the Red Cobras’ horses, and noticed a difference; the clops on hard soil had softened, and tall grass brushed against their legs.
“Things move in the fog! Is it a tree or a wolf?” a man cried out.
“The smell in the air has changed,” the captain said. “I know that smell, and there are no pine trees in Erindor. Where are you taking us, Raven Mistress?”
“Home, I hope,” Taliesin said.
Whenever the Raven Clan left home to scavenge the battlefields, they had returned to Raven’s Nest to find a light burning in a window. It had always been a single candle, left aglow in the upper window of Minerva’s room, a beacon for weary clan members. As Taliesin opened her eyes, chin digging into Ramla’s shoulder, she spotted a light in the distance. The fog vanished, along with the snarls of the wolves, and she stared in astonishment at what stood before them.
Raven’s Nest was surrounded by a wooden barricade, and as they rode through the open gate, Taliesin gaped at how new everything looked. She had no idea her magic could restore what had been destroyed, let along bring them all safely home. Within the courtyard stood the deep well, and the stables and barracks were intact. Overhead in the lofty limbs were the same old guard nests, where the Black Wings had stood watch. The upper branches were accessible only by Master Osprey’s invention, the “Ascender;” she wondered if they would find it inside, still working. The device consisted of a car attached to a cable, raised by a pulley to the upper rooms built within the interior of the tree. These rooms had served as living quarters for the women and children. She expected it all to vanish, but it didn’t, and she gave the captain a squeeze.
“What did I tell you? We needed a miracle. And we have one,” Taliesin said.
“This is amazing,” Lieutenant Achmed called out.
“I’ll feel better, Raven Mistress, after you enter that door
,” Ramla said, and turned to his men. “Remain silent until I am satisfied this is real. This could be nothing more than an illusion.”
Ramla stopped the horse before the doors of the Raven’s Hall. Taliesin actually wondered if she’d find anyone inside. Raven’s Nest had represented the one place in Caladonia where anyone, no matter race, sex, or creed, could live in harmony and peace. She had not appreciated the place when she’d lived there, resenting the seclusion and the daily chores. Now that she’d returned, she understood it was a magical place, and the magic was the people who had lived and worked there.
“I was wrong to doubt my eyes. This place is real. How is this possible?” Ramla asked, his voice a deep rumble.
“It’s magic, Captain. Welcome to Raven’s Nest.” Taliesin pressed her lips to Ramla’s ear. “This is the home of my clan, and that light means we are safe. We must close the gates and prepare for the Wolf Clan; they will come here looking for us, and we must be ready for them. Now let me down, Captain. I want to be the first to see inside Raven’s Hall, to make certain all is as it should be.”
“Taliesin...my Lady, it is too dangerous. We will go together.”
“Please,” she said. “It’s all right, Anwar. It smells like home, so it must be real.”
Ramla offered his arm, which she grasped as she slid off the horse. Feeling the firm ground beneath her feet, Taliesin ran forward. The odor of mint, pine, and lavender reached her nose. The aviary looked untouched, and flowers in the garden were in full bloom. The statue of the large raven on the old fountain in the center of the courtyard spouted water from its beak. She couldn’t remember the last time the fountain worked, and seeing it in perfectly good working order pleased her. A familiar voice called out to her; Old Bill, a great horned owl who lived in the hollow of a nearby tree. There was no confusing Old Bill with any other owl, not when every bird in the forest had its own distinct voice, voices she knew well. His husky hoot brought a smile to her face; it was good to know someone had survived. She heard the gate close with a heavy thud as some of the Red Cobras slid the beam into place.
She was eager to look inside the hall and quickened her step, while the majority of the Red Cobras remained mounted and watched. As she approached the stairs to the door, she heard the croaks of bullfrogs, something that did not live in the arid climate of Erindor. They lived in a nearby pond, where the Raven children often swam to cool off in the heat of summer. She reached to touch the railing on the stairs and found it smooth under her hand; it was solid, not an illusion. She opened the door with a push and found everything as it should be.
“Anwar ben Ramla!” Taliesin shouted, “Come inside and see for yourself—all is well!” Her voice echoed inside Raven’s Hall as he entered, eager to see how it looked.
The furniture was in its place, but no living being was inside, not even the doves that usually nested in the overhead beams. She imagined Master Osprey and the clan seated at the tables, enjoying a meal or an evening’s entertainment. The reality, though, was ugly; her clan had been eaten. There were no formal graves, just bones scattered across the grounds of Wolf’s Den. She shoved the images aside, not wanting to think about death, and concentrated on happier memories.
“I’m home,” Taliesin called out. “The Raven Mistress has returned. Hello, fireplace; you’d looked better with burning logs. Hello, table; I must set out the pewter dishes and find something for the Red Cobras to eat. I hope you have missed me half as much as I have missed you.”
“This time you go too far, sha’tar.”
At the sound of the deep, guttural voice, Taliesin drew Ringerike and spun, staring in disbelief at Ragnal, the god of war.
The god, dressed in black armor with a helmet shaped like a snarling wolf, held a long, golden two-handed sword with a hilt made of human bone. Skulls grimaced on the ends of the crossguard, and the blade was damp with blood. Two supernatural wolves stood beside the armored god; the black wolf, Varg, and its sire, Cano, a larger white beast with yellowed fangs. Both creatures were equally fierce and eager to taste her blood; they snarled, and drool dripped from their jaws.
“Hello, Taliesin,” Ragnal said with a laugh, and the door slammed shut.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
“We meet again, Raven Mistress,” Ragnal said in a gruff voice. “You look surprised. Surely, you didn’t think you had recreated Raven’s Nest? You’re not that powerful. I’ve been told by Heggen that you’ve been having a little trouble with your magic of late. A little tip…it only works when I’m occupied elsewhere, or when Arundel isn’t waving that little stick he calls a wand. Don’t you recognize this place? No? You summoned a fog, and I brought you here…to Wolf’s Den. Welcome.”
The room altered, and she gasped, horrified, as the great hall of Raven’s Nest turned into a grim, dark chamber in a filthy castle. On the floor were brittle bones, human skulls, and shredded clothes, all crawling with rats. The few tables in the room, covered with dirty plates and bones, looked slick with fresh blood. Shredded black banners hung from the walls, and every torch flickered to life. Glowing yellow eyes appeared in every doorway and on the stairs as the females and children of the Wolf Clan gathered to watch.
Taliesin was too shocked to speak. She lifted her sword and kept it pointed toward the wolves, until they separated. The white wolf jumped onto a table, while its son padded around another, in an attempt to sneak up from behind her.
“You remember Cano and Varg? They remember you.”
“The fog? It was yours. But I saw Raven’s Nest! I was there!”
“Ghost fog. As misleading as it is dangerous. It brought you here, girl.”
She had gone in a straight line through fog, turning no corner, not deviating from her path. How had she gone astray? Many questions were in her mind, but Ragnal was not the one to teach her magic. The moment she let him know she was frightened, he would let his two beasts rip her apart. She gave him a look of pure defiance.
Taliesin bristled. “What have you done with the Red Cobras? Are they here as well?”
“Of course,” he said with a bark of a laugh. “They are guests of the Wolf Clan, which right about now is turning them into Wolfen. A few will resist. A few will be eaten. One bite and their lives will change, forever. Zarnoc was a fool to leave you on your own; you’re but a child in a woman’s body.”
“I am the Raven Mistress, and I have Ringerike!”
“Your protestations do not impress me, child of man. Even now you are wondering if Zarnoc will come to your aid. He won’t. He’s occupied. You are here to stay, Taliesin. You are Wolfen; the Wolf Clan is where you belong.” Ragnal scrutinized her armor, and his eyes widened as her sword glowed blue. A hand, encased in a gauntlet, reached to her. “Join me. Imagine what your future could be, at my side, as my mate. I’ll even spare the Red Cobras…all but one; the wolves must feed.”
Varg closed and Cano started to pant as it crept along the table. Her sword surrounded her with a blue orb, and both wolves snarled. She heard screams outside the hall over Ragnal’s coarse laugh. The Red Cobras were under attack by the Wolf Clan; a battle raged outside the door, but she was unable to come to their aid.
“What’s the matter, Ragnal? Looks like you replaced your last sword with a new one. Where did you find it? I can’t say I’ve seen it before.” The sword in the god’s hand glowed red hot and vibrated with an ancient evil. Ringerike told her the name of the sword was Bone, and warned her that the blade cut to the core of whatever it touched, turning flesh to ash and bone to dust.
“Within the caves of Mt. Helos, in an ancient armory. This sword belongs to Stroud, but he doesn’t need it anymore. It was created to kill fairy-folk and darklings. We Maeceni have a taste for blood, as well you know. And if you will not embrace me, then I will taste your blood, mongrel girl.”
The sinister form of Minerva, Osprey’s wife and Taliesin’s adopted mother, crept into the room from the bowels of Wolf’s Den. Her hair was matted, her feet wer
e bare and dirty, and she wore a ragged black dress. She snarled at Taliesin as she entered the chamber. Behind her stood two blond boys, Falcon and Talon, their faces contorted, caught in transformation between human and beast. Cano and Varg turned to snarl as the old woman approached Ragnal from behind. She pointed a finger with a dirty, chipped nail at Taliesin.
“You! You are the cause of the fall of Raven’s Nest! Cursed white worm that wiggled out from the loins of a blue-blooded whore! I shall enjoy watching you die!”
“Minerva the Magpie,” Taliesin said, anger rising. “All this time I felt sorry for you, wondering what became of you and the twins. I had hoped to rescue you. Lykus killed Osprey; I had nothing to do with it.”
Taliesin spotted a pair of yellow eyes beneath a table and swung her sword as Varg came too close. The black wolf darted away with a yelp. Its sire, Cano, was a true werewolf unlike its hybrid son, born of a woman, and lifted his head to howl. The dreadful noise shook the chandeliers, thick with cobwebs, and was answered by the Wolf Clan that lurked in the doorways.
“Make her turn, my Lord,” Minerva snarled. “Make her crawl on all fours and come when you whistle, eh?”
“I have a better idea. Varg? Go outside! Kill the Red Cobras!” Ragnal snapped his fingers and Varg cut across the chamber, a black shadow, and jumped through a window. The glass shattered, revealing sheer chaos outside the castle as his thunderous roars joined the voices of the Wolf Pack. Figures scurried passed, shed their clothes, turned into wolves, and followed out the window to join the fight. Cano took another step toward her, spotted a bone left on the table, and snapped it up. Taliesin moved closer to Ragnal, caught between him and his beast; each doorway was blocked by figures that morphed into monsters. It was fight or die, she thought.
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