Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  “So what’s your father got you doing in here?” Three-Fingers asked.

  “Reading,” Dierk said.

  The mercenary sauntered over and grabbed the blue book off the table. One glance at the title was enough to make him roll his eyes.

  “The three divine whores have better taste than your da,” he said. “Is he trying to make you learn, or to make you take a nap?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dierk said, snagging the book back. “Why are you here?”

  “Because there’s a party tonight, and I wanted to make sure you were invited.”

  Vaesalaum zipped closer to the mercenary, suddenly showing great interest. Dierk did his best to ignore it.

  “I’m not much for parties,” he said.

  “I’m not talking about your da’s parties, with tailored suits and pretty dresses. A real party. A Ravencaller party.” Three-Fingers pulled out a tiny scrap of paper. An address was written on one side. The symbol of the Ravencallers, a circle swallowing a small, upturned triangle, was drawn on the other side. “Take this, and go where it says. Make sure you arrive before the reaping hour. That’s when the fun starts.”

  Dierk stuffed the scrap of paper into his pocket and tried to hide his excitement. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of what the meeting might entail.

  “Will you be going?” he asked.

  “Can’t. I’ve been roped into helping Kaelyn train the local pissheads into a pretend army, so we’ll be drilling long after dark. You’ll have to have fun without me.”

  Three-Fingers bade him farewell and exited the library. Dierk pulled the piece of paper back out and stared at the address. It wasn’t too far from Windswept District. He could get there and back in under an hour.

  Dierk should go, Vaesalaum said as it bobbed up and down over the paper. Dierk might learn of this city. Of its many secrets.

  “A Ravencaller party,” Dierk whispered. “Do you know what one is like?”

  Vaesalaum knows. The students meet the teacher. The servants meet the master.

  “Teacher? Master? What do you mean?”

  The nisse looped a circle around his head. A bright smile lit its smooth face.

  The true Ravencallers. Dierk will meet the avenria. Dierk will meet Logarius.

  Three-Fingers’s role as leader of the Becher Estate’s guards made it an easy task to sneak out at night. All eyes turned the other way when Dierk slipped through the gates, a hood pulled low over his face and the invitation shoved deeply into his pocket. He rushed through dark streets to the written address, expecting to find some empty warehouse or abandoned home. Instead a well-lit mansion awaited him, with two men standing guard beneath the front door’s awning.

  “I’m here for the party,” Dierk said, practically flinging the invitation at them when they ordered him to halt.

  One of them glanced at the paper, then nodded.

  “You’re cutting it close,” he said. “Hurry on in.”

  Dierk had spent his whole life in mansions like the one he entered. Its ceilings were tall, its walls were covered with paintings of long-dead artists, and it seemed every other room was for eating or lounging about. Who was the wealthy man or woman that owned this home? he wondered. Surely they’d have met at one of his father’s many gatherings. He followed the noise of people talking to a cramped dining hall. Its long table was pushed to one side to make room for the thirty men and women within. Dierk’s heart fluttered with excitement as many eyes turned his way.

  They were… normal. No masks, no dark robes, no exotic tattoos. Other than the prominently displayed circle-and-triangle pendants, the gathered crowd wouldn’t have looked out of place in his own mansion. By the void, he even recognized a few of them!

  “I see we have a new member among us,” an older woman said, her face impossibly pale due to the powder covering it. “And so young!”

  “Better we start them young,” said the man beside her. “It’s easier to learn the real truths when the falsehoods haven’t had decades to settle.”

  “So how did you come upon our wisdom?” a tubby man asked, joining the other two so that Dierk felt surrounded and claustrophobic.

  “A—a friend,” he said. “He gave me the Book of Ravens.”

  “Well, you picked a fine time to join,” the powder-faced woman said. “Tonight is special. Very special, indeed.”

  “So I gather,” Dierk muttered. Why did people have to greet him? He just wanted to lurk in a corner somewhere and observe.

  So fearful of attention, Vaesalaum whispered inside his mind. The nisse floated above the dining table and its scattered half-eaten plates of tarts and cakes, seemingly intrigued by their variety. Dierk must learn confidence, or waste his power. A proud peasant may slay a fearful Goddess.

  Thankfully a sudden burst of clapping turned everyone’s attention to the far side of the room, where a mustachioed man in a finely tailored burgundy suit had stepped up onto a chair.

  “Thank you for coming to my home,” he said. Dierk’s mind scrambled to recognize him. A trader of some sort, he vaguely remembered, some well-off man from the east who’d traveled west with business in mind. “This is an exciting time for all of us. A momentous time. Many of you have waited years for such a privilege, and so I will not drag this out further. Please, dim the lamps. Candlelight will suffice.”

  Those near the lamps quickly turned their little handles to seal off the oil. The room darkened considerably. Long shadows stretched across their host’s form, and suddenly his face seemed far more ominous.

  “Excellent,” he said. The air in the room had turned thick. Many held their breath. “Fellow Ravencallers of Londheim, please bow in respect to our teacher and master, Truthsayer Logarius.”

  A shadow plummeted from the ceiling, uncurling to display wings that stretched nearly wall to wall. Even in the dark those black feathers were a stark contrast to all else. Logarius landed before them and stood, and he peered at them with his glowing blue eyes. Men and women gasped. His long beak and scaled hands added to his otherworldly nature. The farthest reaches of his wings shimmered away into a pitch-black smoke, yet it flowed to the ground in a manner eerily resembling water.

  “Greetings, fellow Ravencallers,” Logarius said. “I am an avenria, one of many that now call Londheim home. It strengthens my heart to see that even among the Goddesses’ coddled race, there are those willing to walk the hard path to truth.”

  Immediately every Ravencaller dropped to one knee and bowed their head. Dierk scrambled to mimic their clearly rehearsed response.

  “We walk the hard path,” the crowd pronounced in unison.

  “And make no mistake, it will be a hard path indeed,” Logarius continued. His voice was hard and rolling, and it reminded him of his father. “I wish I could say otherwise, but our centuries of absence have only added to the difficulties we face. Hard times come. Bloody times are upon us. Have you the strength to face them?”

  “United in faith, we are strong,” spoke the crowd.

  Logarius surveyed them as if they were his own children. Chills coursed up and down Dierk’s spine. He felt an intense need for approval from those blue eyes. He wanted to grab the avenria by the hem of his pants and plead for a blessing. What wisdom did such an ancient creature possess? How great was its mastery over secrets and shadows?

  “By now I am sure most of you have heard of our victory in claiming Belvua as our own. It is but a small step toward a greater future. Your Goddesses whispered lies of humanity’s superiority. Your time of solitude at the top of creation was never true, never just, and never destined to last. A new order rises, and you shall be at the forefront of its creation! Equality among all creations. A shedding of morality built to cage your kind and justify the killing of ours. Are you willing to bleed for this, Ravencallers? Are you willing to break bones? To lift corpses to the sky?”

  Somehow Dierk knew the correct response, and he spoke with a solemn heart and an earnest tongue.

 
“We are willing. We are ready.”

  Logarius folded his wings over his shoulders, hiding all below the neck in that roiling shadow.

  “Then let us partake.”

  A naked man tumbled out from the darkness of Logarius’s wings and lay still upon the floor. His hands and feet were bound behind his back, and a thick wad of cloth was tied across his mouth. The precautions seemed unnecessary, for the man offered no sign of resistance.

  “Bring the ropes.”

  The men and women rose to their feet, eager to witness. Two rushed to the table and returned carrying ropes already tied with loops on one end. Logarius wrapped them about each wrist and then hovered into the air with a single beat of his wings. The avenria tied both ropes about the rafters, then floated down to slide each loop around the catatonic man’s wrists. Gripping both ropes in his fists, he lifted the man into the air, then passed the ropes off to be tied down.

  “The Goddesses blessed you with a soul,” Logarius said as he drew one of his wickedly curved daggers. “But then they demanded you wield none of that power for yourselves. Elevated and then shackled. Blessed and then cursed. This is the way of the Three Sisters. I ask of you, recite the thirteenth chapter. Give voice to the truth!”

  The thirteenth chapter… Dierk recognized that one. It was one of the very few curses he was frightened to attempt even with Vaesalaum’s help. Like all of the Book of Ravens’ chapters, it bore a single title: “Harvest.”

  The gathered Ravencallers lifted their arms. Their combined chant gave Dierk the courage to join them. Only Logarius stayed silent, an omission that would have given him more pause had the words to “Harvest” not swept him up in its cadence.

  “Anwyn of the Moon, hear us! Our strength wanes. Our burdens bend our backs and twist our necks. Before us lies one who has walked their final steps, and whose body crumbles, and whose soul is unfit to return to your bosom. Harvest their passing so we may carry on.”

  One truth Dierk had never understood was why they pleaded to Anwyn when the entire purpose of the Book of the Ravens was to denounce the Goddesses’ righteousness. Did this power sparking through his veins like fire belong to the Goddess of the Dusk? Or was this cry one of mockery? He didn’t know, but it seemed knowing was not a requirement. The belief, the strength of purpose, was all that mattered.

  The sky opened. A swirling flower of stars, its outer ring bearing hints of blue while the center pulsed a pale yellow, replaced roof and ceiling. Dierk gazed in wonder upon its majesty. Though it encompassed only a hundred feet from side to side, and it hovered not far above Logarius’s fingertips, something about the image defied those simple definitions. It was larger than all the Cradle. It was farther away than the sun. To touch it, to hold it in his hands, would elevate him to a god.

  The sacrifice’s body withered beneath the starscape. Color drained from his skin. His head drooped and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. Silver light shone through his forehead, his soul already starting to break free of its mortal shell. Something about it was different than usual. It was larger, paler. Little wisps broke from the outer edges, becoming like smoke. The tendrils wafted toward the onlookers, and Dierk eagerly drank it in.

  “Breathe deep,” Logarius said. “Remember who you were meant to be.”

  A haze settled over his mind. Images and emotions danced about him, and he shared them with his fellow Ravencallers. This wasn’t like when he stole memories with Vaesalaum’s help. This was a communal sharing. Energy sparked through his limbs. His back straightened, and he stood taller. His thoughts might be a fog, but his body felt ready to climb a mountain. With each passing moment, the bound man’s body aged and shriveled until he appeared a living skeleton wrapped in leathery flesh. As he weakened, so did they become stronger.

  A long tendril rose from the soul into the starscape, a trail of smoke from a dwindling fire. Vaesalaum hovered in a tight circle above it, growing fat off the memories. Tears ran down Dierk’s face. Such beauty. Such otherworldly wonder. When Logarius’s dagger split the sacrifice’s chest open, not a man or woman there noticed his scream, nor cared for the life taken. Only the avenria’s words finally punctured Dierk’s hazy mind, embedding a thorn of panic.

  “I have chosen a task to prove your loyalty,” Logarius said. “Deep in Belvua, a church for the Sisters remains a thorn in our sides, and it is helmed by a blasphemy in human form bearing the name Adria Eveson. Prepare your knives and ready your curses. Come three days, your faith turns to action. Three days, and we hang the Chainbreaker from the steeple of her own church. A proper death. A Ravencaller death.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Next to the Soulkeeper’s Sanctuary and cordoned off from the courtyard of cherries by a tall wooden fence was the novice training yard. It was primarily used for those hoping to become Soulkeepers, so one side was covered with firing ranges while the other two-thirds was full of sparring rings, training dummies, and lifting weights carved from wood. Devin strode through the center pathway observing the frantic pace in which the novices trained, particularly the older groups a year or two away from graduating.

  They believe they’ll be conscripted early, Devin thought. They might even be right.

  Vikar Forrest himself monitored the firing range. His neck bulged against the constraints of his suit. His hollering was audible all the way across the yard.

  “Three steps, three goddess-damned steps, is that so hard? Take a firm grip on the handle, line up the sight, and then squeeze the trigger. Squeeze, not tug it like it’s your own cock. The world’s going to the void in a handbasket, do you think we can afford wasted flamestones when three steps is too-fucking-much for your sorry asses to remember?”

  The unfortunate recipient of Forrest’s ire had turned beet red from neck to forehead. Devin didn’t envy him. Forrest hadn’t been a Vikar yet when Devin went through his years of training under the giant man’s tutelage. Undertaking the responsibilities of the entire Soulkeeper organization had mellowed the man out, something his current body of students would probably disbelieve. There was a fine line between a good teacher and an asshole, and Forrest had carved a canyon across that line and pissed in it.

  “Is this what you summoned me for?” Devin asked as he joined them. “To watch you lose your temper at a few senior students?”

  Forrest glanced over his shoulder. His mood did not improve upon seeing Devin. A bad sign.

  “I want each of you to take five shots while I’m gone,” Forrest said. “When I come back, you’ll show me your sixth, and if it’s not improved, you’ll be running laps around the entire cathedral.”

  The young men and women bobbed heads, each eager to prove their worth, or at the least, avoid adding several miles of jogging to their daily schedule. Forrest gestured for Devin to follow him as they walked the grounds toward an empty corner of the yard.

  “It’s quite a story I’m hearing about your sister,” he said. “Creating food from nothing? The farmers will be pitching fits from dawn to dusk. Thank the Sisters we’re in the middle of a famine, or they’d be extra pissed.”

  “Yes, thank the Sisters,” Devin said.

  “Don’t get smart with me. I get enough of that with those brats over there. They think we’re desperate enough to promote them all no matter how bad they are at the job. A good number have a surprise coming their way at year’s end. I’d rather the whole world end than give some unprepared pimple-popper the title of Soulkeeper.”

  They were far from the students, yet still Forrest lowered his voice and ran a hand through his long blond hair. Devin’s stomach twisted. His Vikar was nervous. Under no circumstances could that be good.

  “Look, I don’t want to pry like this, but some accusations have reached my ears and I need to address them.”

  “By all means, let me hear them,” Devin said. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

  Except he did have something to hide. Thankfully there was no reason to think Forrest would…

  “Supposedly you�
�re romantically involved with a soulless. One of Gerag’s soulless, to be precise.”

  Devin used anger to hide the sudden swelling of fear throughout his entire body.

  “Magical creatures have forcibly taken Low Dock and laid siege to my sister’s church, and you want to waste my time with rumors about me having sex with a soulless? What kind of priority is that?”

  “My Soulkeepers are always my priority,” Forrest snapped. A bit of his anger returned, and he towered over Devin while jamming a finger into his breastbone. “And yes, I’d be disturbed if you were taking advantage of a soulless, something that’s fucking illegal, Mister High-and-Mighty. Oh, and there’s the whole matter of it being Gerag’s soulless. In case you forgot, I relied pretty heavily on your word to issue his arrest in the first place. People whom I respect have heard these rumors about you, and they’ve suggested the reason you discovered Gerag’s sex racket was because you yourself were a buyer.”

  Devin met his Vikar’s gaze and refused to back down. If he broke now, if he gave even the slightest hint at the truths intermixed with the falsehoods, Jacaranda’s life would be in danger.

  “You know me, Forrest,” he said. “You’ve traveled at my side. We’ve killed bandits together and suffered through a thunderstorm convinced a tornado would sweep us both into the sky. You know damn well I would never buy a soulless, I would never use one for sex, and the only reason I was involved with Gerag in the first place was because his camp was attacked by Janus.”

  “And what of the woman who disappeared? Gerag filed a complaint before his death that a soulless servant of his, Jacaranda, I believe, accompanied you to Oakenwall. That soulless died, according to your own report. Now I’m worried your report wasn’t entirely truthful.”

  Shit, shit, shit, shit.

  “Stop insulting me,” Devin said. His voice was barely above a whisper, and he fought to keep it calm and measured. “Listen to what you’re saying. I faked a soulless servant’s death to keep her as my own sexual pet? This is horse shit, and you know it. What proof do any of these rumors have?”