Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  “You three, come on out,” said the lead guard. “I don’t want to get violent with youngsters, but I will if I must.”

  The injured man staggered to his feet.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

  Tesmarie clung to Tommy’s hair from her perch on his shoulder.

  “They wouldn’t dare, would they?” she asked softly.

  “Orders are orders,” Tommy said, but she could tell he didn’t believe a word of it.

  The father charged the soldiers, and in return they beat him to the ground. Two others ushered the rest of the family out, showing not a care to their crying.

  “Get out of Low Dock and don’t come back until the bells are done,” the lead guard ordered. He spat on the father’s head, then glared at the mother. “Help him walk. He tripped coming out the door and hurt himself.”

  Tired and bleary-eyed neighbors emerged from their own homes. Had they witnessed what happened? Would they even care? Tesmarie felt sick. She’d accompanied Tommy into the night to help people. This wasn’t helping people, this was hurting them!

  “Surely it won’t cause any harm if some people stay behind,” she offered despite knowing her opinion would be unwanted.

  “I’m saving his life,” the guard said. “Spare me the guilt trip over a few bruises.”

  The evacuation continued, though far slower than the guards preferred. Tesmarie noticed little groups of people lingering behind. They huddled in alleys and street corners, as if waiting for the guards to leave so they might return home. She couldn’t shake the entirely valid point Tommy had brought up. Why wait until nightfall? This wasn’t safe. This wasn’t orderly. The group of twelve soldiers wasn’t nearly enough to escort all the people in the district to safety, either. Why come in such low numbers? She and Tommy certainly hadn’t heard or seen of any other such groups.

  At one home the guards kicked and slammed their shoulders upon a door but could not get it to budge.

  “It’s barred shut,” one explained to their leader. “Can’t get in, but we know there’s a good number on the other side.”

  “I can help with that,” Tommy offered. “So long as you don’t mind me using a bit of magic.”

  The guards exchanged glances.

  “If it gets the people to evacuate, then do so.”

  Tesmarie lingered behind as Tommy went with the guard to the home’s front door. Another round of bell ringing washed over her. She winced at the noise. Where was it coming from? It didn’t sound like any normal tower the humans built. Then again, she didn’t remember hearing too many bells other than the hourly chimes from the few squat clock towers in the northern half of the city.

  “Do the bells bother you?” the lead guard asked her. She nodded, having no real desire to talk to someone so callous toward the people he supposedly protected. “Try to pay them no mind. I know they are powerful, but it must be done to ensure this evacuation. Otherwise we will have a massacre.”

  A massacre? What did he mean? She stared at the lead guard as the bells seemed to vibrate her skeleton inside her skin. Something about him was off, but she couldn’t place it. Was it his hair? No, it was… it was…

  She couldn’t decide what color his hair was. She squinted and rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t picture him in her mind. What color was his hair? What shade his skin? When she reopened them, she realized he was staring at her. Answers to her questions came to her. He was dark skinned and with brown hair. His eyes were pale yellow with rounded irises. Pale yellow… and not human.

  “Tommy?” she called as the guard flashed her a smile with teeth much too white and much too sharp.

  “I wondered when you’d see through us,” he said. “I expected better of you, Tesmarie. We Forgotten Children have been here for weeks, and yet you have never sought us out.”

  “Who—who are you?” she asked.

  “Gerroth Crimshield.” His illusionary appearance faded completely, revealing his red fur and white tail wrapped about his waist. Even his armor changed, turning to leather instead of steel. “Son of Aerreth. Surely you remember her, don’t you?”

  Aerreth, the phantom death of Nicus. Everyone knew her name, especially the humans… at least they did, before tales of her likely turned to fables and disbelieved horror stories.

  “What is going on?” she asked. “Why are you evacuating the people?”

  In answer he looked to the heavens. Tesmarie followed his gaze to the starlit sky, and the dozens of black shapes flying in scattered formations.

  “They’re early,” Gerroth said. “I should have expected as such. Arondel has always been an impatient queen once a plan is set in motion.”

  The owls dove amid a nightmare chorus of shrieks. The men and women who had been foolish enough to linger outside soon found themselves easy prey for the winged beasts. Nowhere was safe this time, not even the homes, for they crashed through rooftops as if they were built of twigs and kindling. Screams pierced the night air. Tesmarie clutched her arms to her chest, paralyzed with confusion and horror.

  “Holy shit, they’re all over the place,” Tommy shouted as he rushed to join them. “We need… to…” The thought trailed off as he saw Gerroth’s true form. “Hey, uh, Tes? Who’s your new friend?”

  A spear butt connected with the back of his head, toppling him onto his stomach.

  “Please, don’t!” Tesmarie screamed. She repositioned into a hover above Tommy’s body with her moonlight blade shimmering in her clenched fist. “He’s kind, and he’s never harmed one of us, never, I swear. Don’t hurt him, please!”

  The rest of the foxkin, their disguises likewise abandoned, looked to their leader for an answer.

  “If he is your friend, then we shall show him mercy,” Gerroth said. “Let him up.”

  Tommy slowly rose to his feet, his hands extended with his palms outward. She worried at the unfocused haze that seemed to have settled over his eyes.

  “She’s right, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, I promise.”

  “We want you to leave,” Gerroth said. “We have claimed this territory for the dragon-sired. Low Dock no longer exists. This is Belvua now, and if the Mayor wishes to avoid further bloodshed, he will acknowledge our autonomy.”

  “Belvua. Autonomy. Got it.” Tommy took a careful step toward the ring of foxkin. They gave way, but their reluctance was obvious in their greedy eyes and bared fangs.

  “Never forget this is your true home,” Gerroth said, turning on Tesmarie. “But if you come back, make sure it’s alone. Belvua is a place for the dragon-sired, and the dragon-sired alone. We will not repeat the kindness we have shown tonight.”

  Such kindness, indeed. The rest of the foxkin yipped as they rushed through the streets, ripping open doors and barking orders to those still foolish enough to remain. Those who refused were met with quick, brutal slaughter.

  “Come on, Tommy,” she said, pulling on his sleeve. “Let’s get you home safe.”

  Low Dock was dead and gone, its bones being picked clean by the great flock of owls diving from the sky with eager talons. Only Belvua remained, and together Tesmarie and Tommy fled its blood-soaked streets.

  CHAPTER 12

  A moment,” Adria muttered as someone hammered on the other side of her bedroom door. She sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. Her dreams had been strange and oddly disconcerting. Something about a thin strand of silver hovering just out of reach, and her panicking at her inability to grab a hold of it. What she’d do with it, or why she needed it in the first place, were questions for the cosmos. Adria looked to the shining soul visible through the door and immediately sensed the fear and uncertainty leaking out of it. Deciding not to bother putting on anything over her shift, she crossed the small room and stepped out to address one of the volunteers who had pledged to her church after her procession of bread.

  “Is something amiss?” she asked.

  The volunteer, a young woman with hair down to
her waist and a nervous tic to her face, did her best to explain.

  “There’s a lady, she says owls destroyed her home. She wants to stay here, which I told her was fine, but then she started talking about an evacuation, and the bells…”

  “Bells?” Adria asked.

  The volunteer tilted her head slightly.

  “You don’t hear the bells?”

  In fact, she did not, but she decided it best not to answer in case it upset the volunteer further. Instead she asked for a moment, ducked back into her room, and changed into her dress. Bells? Evacuation? What insanity had befallen Londheim now? She ran her fingers through her hair to untangle it into something resembling order, then reached for her mask. Only when it was safely tied over her face did she exit.

  “Take me to her.”

  Many of the thirty people or so still bunking in the church had stirred from their slumber and gathered around the woman. Adria groaned with annoyance. Whoever this woman was, she should have been separated to prevent a panic.

  “We have to run, now, before we’re trapped!” her frantic plea sounded over the growing din.

  “Make way, please,” Adria said, her tone harsher than her words. The pale woman was dressed in a bed robe and nothing else, lacking even shoes on her feet. Upon seeing Adria, she quickly dropped to her knees.

  “Sisters’ mercy, it’s you. You’ll keep us safe, won’t you?”

  Safe from what? The owls? Or had something else sparked such a panic?

  “Tell me your name,” she asked.

  “Beverly.”

  “Then get back on your feet, Beverly, so we may talk plainly.”

  The trembling woman obeyed. Adria tried to focus on her face instead of her soul. She’d found her attention on the physical realm slipping lately. The soul didn’t lie, not to her eyes. Beverly was frightened, all her willpower currently spent keeping her on the sane side of panic. Publicly explaining why might make things worse. That left a much more direct approach.

  “I do not need words,” Adria said. “Close your eyes, and when you sense my presence, let me in. Can you do that, Beverly?”

  The woman nodded. Adria put her hands on either side of her face and pressed forehead to forehead. Their souls were so close, the white fire within them almost licking the other. Like knocking on a door, Adria gently requested entrance into that burning heart of memories and emotions. She could shatter her way in, deep down she knew that, but it felt much better to be allowed. After a momentary hesitance, Beverly relaxed, and Adria dipped inside her most recent memories.

  A flock of owls dove from the sky, their talons ripping chunks off rooftops, their beaks snapping up men, women, and children on the run. Fires burned in the distance. For the first time, Adria heard the bells, deep, powerful, and certainly not from any bell tower in Londheim she knew of. From Beverly’s eyes, Adria watched what appeared to be a foxlike human approach with a sword drawn.

  “Start running,” the foxkin said. “The owls like a bit of chase for their hunts.”

  Beverly did. She passed by others ordered from their homes. She ducked through alleys when spotting more of the foxkin. She screamed at the top of her lungs as an owl swooped up a man into its talons mere feet away from her. All the while, her path never changed. Low Dock’s church was ahead. It’d be her safety. It’d be her salvation.

  Adria broke her connection, grabbed a volunteer by the wrist, and pulled her close.

  “Wake Sena,” she said. “And do it quickly.”

  She turned her attention back to Beverly, who had a dazed look in her eyes, as if just waking from a dream.

  “Sit down on a bench,” Adria said. “Pray to the Sisters for strength and comfort, and tell no one of what you saw.”

  “As you wish, blessed one.”

  Adria pushed through the gathering crowd. Their questions bounced off her. If she surmised correctly, she didn’t have time to answer them. The Mindkeeper exited her church and stood at the top of her steps. The dark corner of her city stretched out before her, and it was a battlefield. She put a hand to her throat. Her mind focused on the blazing soul within her own body, and silently she prayed the 34th of Lyra’s Devotions.

  Lyra of the Beloved Sun, hear my prayer. Give me courage to speak your words, and a heart strong enough to believe them. In your bosom may we find the strength to face our troubled times, and may we lift our voices to the heavens and shout our glorious defiance.

  The prayer finished, she licked her dry lips and spoke. Her every word echoed for miles, calm as a meadow and loud as thunder. “All in Low Dock with nowhere else to go, come to my church. Here it is safe, and by my word, and until my death, so shall it stay.”

  The power in her throat faded. Adria touched her mask, feeling its cool porcelain beneath her fingers for comfort. She’d given her promise. It was time to fulfill it.

  A few minutes later, the first family approached the church, the husband holding their son in his arms. Adria beckoned them inside. The shadows of owls blocked the stars, and she feared they’d descend upon the three before they arrived. None did. A small mercy in a night full of slaughter.

  A lone man followed, and soon another thirty or so people in various states of disarray dashed to the church in search of safety. Adria watched for dangers, but so far none approached. Sena joined her side before long, perfectly dressed in her blinding white suit.

  “What madness befalls our little corner of Londheim?” she asked.

  “The magical creatures,” Adria said. “They’ve decided to take Low Dock for themselves.”

  Sena looked to the growing fires, the owls diving upon random rooftops, and the armed foxkin marching their way.

  “I hope they leave anything to take.”

  There were ten foxkin in the group that approached the church, plus a handful of gargoyles crawling on all fours, and they yipped and laughed as they neared. Adria spared a glance to the stars. Three owls circled like vultures in the sky above. Just wonderful.

  “It seems some of you didn’t get the message,” one of the foxkin called out. “This is Belvua now. No humans allowed, and no exceptions for churches.”

  The owls were circling lower and lower, silent killers at the ready.

  “I need you to pray the 59th with me,” Adria whispered. “And even if I stop, you must continue. Will you?”

  “Of course,” Sena said. “These people are my children. Whatever it takes to protect them, I’ll do it.”

  Adria took Sena’s hands in hers and squeezed to show the appreciation her mask would not.

  “We are not leaving,” she shouted to all who’d listen. “Take your threats and your blasphemy and be gone.”

  The leader of the foxkin flashed a toothy grin.

  “Truth be told, I was hoping you’d say that. We tried to make everyone leave without a fight. You want to be stubborn? Then be stubborn. Take her out, ladies.”

  Owls dove from the sky, but the words were already on Adria’s and Sena’s tongues.

  “Blessed Sisters, I seek your protection.”

  Power exploded out from their physical bodies long before the prayer completed. It was the need, Adria was learning, that focused the prayer as much as the words itself. The first time it had been only for herself, but now with Sena’s help, it was the entire church that sought the Sisters’ protection, and protect it, they did. Brilliant flashes of light marked two owls striking invisible barriers, their hollow-boned bodies easily breaking against that immutable wall. Their death cries were pitiful shrieks added to a night already full of screams.

  A foxkin pulled a crossbow off its back and aimed their way. Sena repeated the prayer on a loop, and with her new soul-kissed eyes, Adria could see the steady strain it took on the Faithkeeper’s soul. The arrow plinked off the barrier, as did two more that followed.

  “Sena keeps us safe,” Adria told them. “Which means I have all the freedom I need to burn your group to ash. Continue to threaten those I have sworn to protect and meet y
our death.”

  The lead foxkin muttered something she couldn’t hear to the rest, then made an exaggerated bow.

  “Not bad,” he said. “We’ll let Logarius be the one to deal with you.”

  “Logarius?” Adria asked.

  She received no answer. The group spread out, forming a circle around the little church with their weapons sheathed. Adria put a hand on Sena’s shoulder. She’d begun to sweat, and her every muscle was locked tight.

  “Enough,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”

  Sena’s body immediately relaxed when she ceased the prayer. The barrier around the church ceased to be.

  “Goddesses help me, that was exhausting,” she said. “I’m not sure I can keep that going for more than a few minutes.”

  “May you have no need to do so again,” Adria said. “They’re waiting for Logarius, whoever that is.”

  “Let’s pray it’s someone willing to listen to reason.”

  The night wore on, and with it grew the number of creatures surrounding their church. Adria guessed at least sixty foxkin, another twenty gargoyles, and over a dozen circling owls. No more survivors came, and even if they did, they’d have no way to break through the dragon-sired circle. Despite their numbers, Adria still believed she could hold them off with her prayers.

  And then the first of the shadow wings arrived.

  They landed atop nearby buildings and perched much like the gargoyles, only they were twice their size. They wore hoods sewn into their pale gray shirts, and long pants the color of smoke. Black beaks peaked out from underneath their hoods, and they gazed upon the church with blue eyes that seemed to glow in the starlight. Enormous black-feathered wings stretched from their backs and wrapped about them like cloaks. Those feathers trailed into an ethereal mist by the time it reached their knees. From within that curling flow of feathers and shadow glinted steel daggers, swords, and sickles.

  “What in Alma’s name are those creatures?” Sena asked.

  “I don’t know,” Adria said. “But they terrify me.”