Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  Blocking would be disastrous so Logarius took the best option available. He dashed toward her, not away, his body shifting sideways and his wings turning fully to shadow so that Whisper and Song slashed harmlessly through them. Damn it! She was getting too old, too slow! His leg swept underneath her, and she toppled to the floor with a painful jarring of her back and shoulders.

  Logarius dove atop her with his daggers leading. Evelyn crossed her arms. Her wings flared outward so wide they reached wall to wall. She fell through one floor, then another. Logarius followed, the sharp points of his daggers pulled back mere inches behind his curled wings. Instead of falling through the third floor, she solidified them back into feathers. Air blasted out of her lungs from the hard landing, but she needed that sudden, awful halt to her momentum. It was the only way to catch her son by surprise.

  Closing in on her much faster than he’d anticipated, he rotated briefly so that his heels would strike first. She rolled, not bothering to attack. The heel of his boot hit stone, the angle awkward and wrong. Logarius shrieked as he collapsed to his knees. Evelyn ducked her head and leapt blind through the outer wall, caught the windowsill upon exiting, and used it to shift her momentum upward. Two flaps of her wings and she landed atop her tower’s point.

  Logarius appeared moments later, his body exiting out a shimmery starscape along the northern wall. He clung to the side of their home with his clawed left hand, his weight braced by his good leg, but he did not attempt to chase.

  “I will not rest,” she told him. “Not until I have burned every copy of that damn book and scattered every last Ravencaller’s ashes to the fields and mountains of the Cradle.”

  “Don’t you understand?” her son yelled at her. “You should feel pride at your place in history. The Book of Ravens is the key! With it, humanity can understand its true place: beneath the dragon-sired.”

  Evelyn leapt off the rooftop, caught the wind with her wings, and glided away. Logarius did not chase, not physically. He used his words instead.

  “This is our home, Mother! I will defend it to the last. Better the void take it than humanity!”

  Evelyn landed on a rooftop several hundred feet away, her feet a blur. She ran, and ran, leaving her empty home behind. She ran as her guilt and sorrow chased her, ran as fast as her old legs could carry and her brittle wings propel, but it was never fast enough.

  CHAPTER 18

  Devin knelt behind the corner of a shuttered tavern, a little spot of privacy amid the gathered crowd of keepers, soldiers, and city guards.

  “Keep us safe, Sisters,” he prayed with eyes closed and head bowed. “And please, let this night be one of peace instead of bloodshed.”

  It was an impossible prayer, but he prayed it nonetheless. A small army was marching into occupied territory to halt a nighttime attack on Adria’s church. Bloodshed felt all but guaranteed. His prayer finished, he moved his fingers in a triangular pattern over his heart. Such acts were usually done by children first learning their faith, but given his uncertainty and confusion, Devin felt very much a child in this new world.

  “Welcome back,” Lyssa said when Devin joined the rest of the keepers lingering together a few dozen feet from the soldiers. She stared at him intently, and he wondered what she might be looking for.

  “I think I’d rather be home,” he said. “Alas, the powers that be have other ideas.”

  “We’re helping the defenseless. This is right where you know you should be.”

  “Is that so?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Remember when we traveled to places in need and offered them services? I spent most of my time tending the sick and comforting the hurting. Now I feel like we’re just a military arm of the church. If we’re not patrolling the streets, we’re here as part of an invasion force.”

  “Invasion force?” Lyssa punched his shoulder. “Have you forgotten these creatures evicted hundreds from Low Dock by knifepoint? We’re not invading. We’re taking back what is ours.”

  No doubt the Forgotten Children believed the same, but Devin kept that to himself. There was no point arguing such matters well beyond the point of no return. At any moment they’d receive a signal from up front, and the whole force would march to the west gate of Low Dock. No doubt it would be barricaded, but they had a trick up their sleeves for that eventuality: Tommy and his magic.

  Devin peered over Lyssa’s shoulder to where his brother-in-law and his mentor, Malik, huddled together under an awning to avoid the biting wind. Tommy looked unbearably nervous, the poor guy. Battle would never be his forte. It was such a shame he couldn’t have discovered his powers in a time of peace. He’d be so much happier creating silly trinkets for children and wondrous illusions for crowds than wielding fire and frost as weapons for the city. At least Tesmarie was with him, hidden in his pocket. Devin trusted the onyx faery to keep his brother-in-law safe should things turn dire.

  “You still with me?” Lyssa asked.

  “Yeah, sorry.” Devin shook his head and forced himself to dwell on the matters at hand. “Just worried is all.”

  “Don’t be. We got this. Anything goes wrong, I’ll have your back.” She grinned at him, half-cocked and matching the tilt of her feathered cap. “So, what’s this I hear about you shacking up with a soulless?”

  Oh Goddesses above, that rumor had made its way through the ranks?

  “And where did you hear that?” he asked.

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  He absolutely was, and it drove him nuts that Lyssa could read him so easily. It made the following lie that much harder.

  “I’m not,” he said. “Whatever nonsense rumor you heard is just that, nonsense.”

  Lyssa’s fingers drummed the two hilts of her pistols, and he was surprised by the earnestness of her voice when she responded. He’d expected sarcasm or mockery, not sympathy.

  “That’s good to hear,” she said. “Devin, you know that if you need companionship, I’m here for you, right? What we do, it isn’t easy. Don’t spend nights cold and alone if you feel them wearing you down. Far too many of us never learn to escape it.”

  Devin took Lyssa’s hand and squeezed. There was a reason one rarely saw elderly Soulkeepers. It wasn’t just the dangers of the occupation. After a lifetime of praying over sickly men and women who would still die, of killing those who had already murdered the innocent, and standing by helplessly as disease or famine ravaged a village, it was painfully common for a Soulkeeper to choose to take their own life during the reaping hour rather than face the memories that came at night.

  “I’m good, I assure you,” he said. “But thanks for caring.”

  The smaller woman rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t get used to it, you stubborn lug.”

  A few minutes later Vikar Forrest joined the group of Soulkeepers to give the call to march. That their Vikar was coming into combat only showed how important the church viewed the attempt to retake Low Dock. The giant man wore his old Soulkeeper outfit instead of his traditional black suit and vest. His billowing coat would have engulfed a smaller man, and Devin doubted few could heft his two-handed axe with such ease.

  “It’s almost time,” Forrest said as he stood in a loose ring of Soulkeepers. “We should have them vastly outnumbered, but don’t get cocky. Stay loose, and stay together with your partners. Their best bet will be to get us separated, so don’t fall for it. Other than that, may your swords be wet and your aim be true. If Anwyn’s kind, she’ll only be taking a few of us into her arms at the end of this night.”

  “I feel so motivated,” Lyssa said to the chuckles of many.

  “Speaking’s never been my forte,” Forrest said. He hoisted his ax above his head. “That’s why I have this giant-ass thing speak for me.”

  Shouts from ahead ordered the troops to march. Devin inhaled deeply and breathed out his anxiety. You’re doing this for Adria, he told himself. Reports insisted the Forgotten Children were moving in on her church tonight. At least when i
t came to protecting her, Devin knew they were doing the right thing.

  There were three hundred total troops between the city guard and the royal soldiers. Twenty Soulkeepers trailed after them, paired up in twos. Devin glanced toward the rooftops only once as they marched, for he feared doing so more often might allow Lyssa to notice. Sure enough, Jacaranda followed at a low crouch, dressed in black. She had insisted on coming along, and even if he had refused, nothing would have stopped her.

  Their formation halted at the west district gate. The interior of the gate was sealed off by an enormous pile of boards and furniture taken from the many abandoned homes within and piled up overnight after the Forgotten Children had taken over. Devin couldn’t see Tommy from way in the back, but he certainly could see the enormous fireball that lit up the night. It exploded into the barricade, scattering flaming chunks all throughout the interior street. A cheer went up through the crowd. Devin grinned, imagining Tommy’s reaction. Never one comfortable with attention, he was probably blushing from neck to forehead.

  The soldiers marched onward, and the Soulkeepers followed up at the rear. The streets of Low Dock were dark and empty, with not a single hanging lantern lit. Devin questioned the wisdom of coming at night. Perhaps their leaders thought it poetic to retake the district in the same way the Forgotten Children had taken it from them. Perhaps they hoped to catch the magical creatures off guard during their attack on the church. Whatever the reason, it meant that many soldiers throughout the formation had to forfeit a hand to carry a torch.

  Soldiers checked the first two dozen homes, finding no one. Worry built into a solid knot inside Devin’s stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Forgotten Children were ready for them. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with that concern. At the next crossroad the entire formation halted, and a runner arrived from up front.

  “General Kaelyn is worried you’ll get picked off if you remain in the back,” he told Forrest. “She wants you to take the middle position.”

  “Just this morning she wanted us guarding her flank,” the Vikar grumbled. “I wish she’d make up her mind.”

  The Soulkeepers shuffled forward, and once repositioned, the troops began anew. Devin scanned the surroundings, always on the lookout for a peering set of eyes or a huddled shape waiting in ambush. It was by the third street that Low Dock began to appear unfamiliar. Had the buildings always been so tall? And why did some walls shimmer like pearl or alabaster instead of brick or stone?

  “This is giving me the creeps,” Lyssa said, and she pointed at a cylindrical building three stories tall. “No doors, no windows. How the void does anyone get in?”

  Devin tried to spot Jacaranda but could not. He trusted her to keep pace with them, just camouflaged and hidden. Again the troops halted, and murmurs from up front trickled their way. General Kaelyn was lost.

  “That’s impossible,” Devin said. “It’s a straight shot until a turn at the shuttered shoemaker store. I’d have seen it if we passed it.”

  “Are you sure?” Lyssa asked. She eyed the homes around her distrustfully. “Things don’t feel right. I’m not certain we should believe our eyes.”

  “Getting nervous, keepers?” asked the soldier to Devin’s right. The bearded man held a torch aloft, and he winked with his lone good eye. “I’m sure the little buggers fled the moment they saw us coming. Surely they’re a cowardly lot.”

  That certainly didn’t match what Devin knew of them. Their attacks were well coordinated and daring. A panicked retreat was the exact opposite of what he expected that night.

  “Devin, they’re disguised!” Jacaranda’s shout split the quiet night like a thunderbolt. He glanced up to see her kneeling at the side of a home, her right arm extended in a point. “Hidden with illusions! Look around you, all of you!”

  Devin spun on his heels, baffled. He caught the man with the torch leering at him. Smiling. His teeth a bit too clean and sharp.

  “Nosy little bitch, isn’t she?” the man asked, and suddenly his skin was fur, his hands bore claws, and he had not one eye but three. Dozens of other soldiers and city guards dropped their illusions, becoming foxkin armed to the teeth with swords and daggers. There was a single, horrified second of calm as the shock and surprise rippled through the humans in a wave, and then the bloodshed began.

  A roar like thunder sounded as over a dozen pistols fired simultaneously. Devin shot his own at the torch wielder, but the flash of light from the other pistols sullied his vision, as did the torch when the foxkin chucked it at his forehead. The shot went wide, and his attempt to duck came too late. The torch struck the side of his face, and the fire and wood combined for a vicious sting. He prayed it did not scar as he staggered with his sword held up in defense. The last thing his poor face needed was another permanent decoration.

  Scarring might be the least of his worries, though, as the foxkin pressed the assault. He wielded a long, curved blade with both hands, and he used that power to slam Devin’s sword up and nearly out of his grasp. Devin retreated backward, desperate for space, but the foxkin was faster. His sword curled downward at an arc that brought its sharp edge in for a sideways slash. Devin’s pistol was empty, his sword out of position, and his fall backward too slow. The blade would open up his belly and spill his guts upon the cold, dark street.

  One booming crack, followed by a second. Two shots of lead pounded into the foxkin’s chest and out his back. They robbed his swing of its strength so that when Devin turned, the weapon’s edge caught only the side of his long jacket. Devin spun and saluted Lyssa in thanks.

  “Cover me,” she said, her fingers already a blur as she simultaneously loaded both pistols. Devin put his back to her, searching for nearby foes. Despite the advantage of a surprise attack, the foxkin were outnumbered at least five to one. Already many had begun to retreat, which only added to the confusion. Some soldiers chased, while others called for a return to formation. The nearest foxkin stood over the corpse of two men, blood dripping from his twin dirks. He grinned at Devin, almost daring him to charge.

  “Not a chance,” Devin said, grinning right back. Lyssa’s pistols would be more than enough.

  A piercing cry stole his attention to the sky. His stomach dropped. His throat tightened. The rooftops were filled with a mixture of magical creatures. He saw tall, long-eared men and women wielding spears that matched Tommy’s description of the lapinkin. He saw multiple avenria, their bodies shrouded by their long, shadowy wings and their faces covered with hoods. Gargoyles clung to rooftop edges, their teeth bared and hungry. Enormous owls circled amid the stars, overlooking all and waiting for their time to dive.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” the grinning foxkin said, drawing Devin’s attention back down to him. “But we’re glad you did.”

  The earlier confusion paled in comparison to the absolute chaos unleashed by the rooftop ambush. Lapinkin blasted soldiers off their feet with torrents of wind before soaring high into the air with their spears at the ready. Several owls crashed through their ranks, grabbing soldiers with their talons and dragging them along the cobblestones. Gargoyles leapt upon the nearest men and women like attack dogs, their teeth and claws making short work of their armor to tear at the flesh beneath. The avenria were the worst. They assaulted the outer lines of soldiers, their weapons wielded with such skill they found blood with nearly every thrust and stab.

  “It’s on us, Soulkeepers!” Vikar Forrest bellowed over the din. His axe cleaved a gargoyle in half in mid-lunge. “Bring the bastards down!”

  Devin charged the nearest foxkin. He couldn’t afford to wait, not with so many skirmishes all about. The foxkin twirled his dirks, and when Devin was halfway there, he met his charge with a leap of his own. The creature had speed on him, but Devin had the far better reach. He feinted an overhead chop, which baited out a sidestep and counterthrust. The foxkin had to close the distance for his dirks, just as Devin predicted. He swept his sword sideways. The foxkin’s speed was incredible, and he alm
ost drew blood before Devin’s sword chopped through his extended elbow and then crashed through his rib cage.

  Pained screams formed a constant chorus punctuated with pistol fire. Devin turned in place, searching for his next opponent, when a fleeing guard collided with him shoulder-to-shoulder. He staggered for balance. Before he could even call for the man to stand his ground, a lapinkin slammed down from the sky, his spear skewering the man through the back. Both lapinkin and corpse slid several feet across the cobbles, the steel of his weapon scraping the stone.

  “Anwyn have mercy,” Devin whispered. He dashed after the lapinkin, who turned toward him and extended his hand. Wind soared out from his palm, and Devin felt its impact like a solid wall. His legs strained to keep himself standing. Closing the gap between them was impossible. The dragon-sired couldn’t keep the wind up forever, though, and eventually Devin felt the pressure ease. He charged, but the lapinkin was faster. He leapt several dozen feet into the air and then froze in place, a faintly visible vortex of air just beneath his feet. The lapinkin took aim with his spear.

  Devin picked a random direction and dove. The lapinkin dove forward, slamming into the ground, and the force of his passage sent Devin rolling. The spear caught in cobbles and wrenched from the lapinkin’s grasp. Devin rolled to his knees, judging if he could reach the spear before the lapinkin did. He need not have worried. A pistol shot ripped through the dragon-sired’s face and exited out the back of his skull to punch an accompanying hole through the overlapped ears behind it.

  “You’re a good distraction,” Lyssa said, offering him a hand.