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Ravencaller

Page 32

by David Dalglish


  Cannac stood up straighter, and it seemed a bit of fire sparked in the center of his antlers.

  “No. The actions of those in Belvua are contrary to my desires.”

  “How is that so?” asked Mayor Becher. “Have you not already told us you are a King to these magical creatures?”

  “I rule my dyrandar, and I speak for my alliance in the west. The Forgotten Children who have infiltrated your city reject all masters, clan leaders, and kings. I am responsible for their actions as much as you are for a human criminal a thousand leagues from here.”

  Many there still did not appear convinced.

  “You granted a vision of your armies, and one was of giant rabbits with spears,” Kaelyn said. “Those same creatures were part of the attack on my troops. Would you care to explain that?”

  “Is one lapinkin the same as all lapinkin? Is one human the same as all humans? You are not of one mind. Why do you presume us to be? I shall repeat myself if I must, but the Forgotten Children reject our leadership. They do not follow any orders of mine, or my fellow leaders.”

  “There’s a simpler solution,” the general insisted. “You could be lying.”

  “I am King of the dyrandar,” Cannac bellowed. The force of his voice was like a fire sweeping through grasslands. “I come without guards and subjects into your capital, and yet you accuse me of subterfuge? I seek diplomacy, but you accuse me of aiding those who seek violence and conquest by force? You insult me, humans. Was I wrong to expect better from you?”

  Cannac’s ire wasn’t even aimed at him and yet Tommy wanted to wither away and hide. The air sucked out of the room, and it took several long moments before anyone was prepared to speak.

  “You are right,” Albert said after clearing his throat. “We should show you more respect than that. Please, accept our apologies.”

  “Your apologies are welcome,” Cannac said. “But they are not why I came to Londheim. Have you arrived at a decision as to our requests? Every day our people travel further east into vacated lands you insist are yours. There is still time to avoid bloodshed, but it is lessening with each rise and fall of the sun.”

  “We’ve already had bloodshed,” Kaelyn said. “Or have you forgotten?”

  The Royal Overseer admonished her with a look, then turned his attention back to the dyrandar.

  “I am still awaiting much-needed word from the capital,” he said. “We do not have an answer for you, and will not while we operate under such limited information.”

  “Then why did you bring me here?” Cannac asked. “Was it solely to question my honor and accuse me of violence?”

  “No,” said Nikos Flynn, the commander of the city guard, if Tommy remembered correctly. “There’s one other matter. Your stay at the Wise tower is no longer acceptable. You’re here so my guards can escort you to join the rest of your kind.”

  “Join my kind?” Cannac asked, his tone cold.

  “In Low Dock,” Albert said. “Or Belvua, as some call it now. We have declared a temporary truce, but given that your kind now possess land within Londheim, we feel it best that you spend your stay there instead.”

  Tommy bit his tongue to prevent himself from butting in. This wasn’t his fight, even if it were deeply insulting. Cannac had done nothing to associate himself with those in Low Dock, not their claims on the land, nor their fight against the people, yet he would still find himself sequestered within?

  “You would house a King in the stolen lands of criminals,” the dyrandar said after a long pause. “I assume any protest I offer shall fall on deaf ears?”

  “Would you not be more comfortable living with your own kind?” the Mayor asked, and he sounded legitimately confused.

  “Comfort was the reason you made this decision,” Cannac said. “But not mine. If this is your request, then I acquiesce. I seek peace, humans of Londheim. I hope you learn I am not your enemy before your paranoia and fears lead us to war.”

  “Not our enemy, he says, right before threatening us with war,” Kaelyn practically growled. “I think we’ve heard enough. Get him where he belongs.”

  “Overseer, if I may so humbly object,” Malik began, stepping between Cannac and the rest of the table.

  “You may not,” Albert interrupted. “This decision is final.”

  “You can always go with him,” Kaelyn offered. She pulled a dagger strapped to her thigh and almost lazily twirled it in her fingers. “Though I don’t know how long you’d last in Low Dock before some monster decides they’d rather eat you than play nice.”

  The Royal Overseer beckoned to the soldiers stationed at the library entrance. One opened the doors, and the other gestured for them to follow.

  “Well,” Tommy said as they exited, “that went poorly.”

  “Humans have always been reactionary creatures obsessed with the present, ignorant of the past, and fearful of the future.” Cannac shook his head. “I will endure these indignities if it prevents the casualties of war. I must admit, my hopes have fallen significantly since my arrival. Scattered remnants of our kind have reclaimed portions of a city right underneath their nose, yet the humans act as if a full-scale war will be one they might win.”

  The guards were awfully close and listening in on such proclamations. Tommy felt his neck flush with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty. It felt weird to discuss such things so candidly with them there.

  “Did we ever wage war before?” he asked. “Back when we lived together in the early days of history?”

  “We did,” Cannac said.

  “And did we humans ever win?”

  Cannac pushed open the doors to the mansion.

  “If you had, do you think the Goddesses would have needed to banish us to slumber beneath the earth?”

  Any hope Tommy had that their return trip would be easier than their arrival died the moment he exited those doors. A crowd had formed around the mansion gates, numbering at least sixty by his estimate. The four city guards assigned to take them to Belvua shouted to the soldiers nearby, demanding a larger escort.

  While they waited for it to arrive, Cannac stood before the gathered throng and raised his arms high. Shimmering mist swirled between his antlers, then dispersed throughout the crowd with such speed only a few had time to let out frightened cries. The mist faded, but the colors of the people’s faces and outfits seemed weirdly vibrant. A rainbow fog shimmered into view between them, and Cannac drank it in like he would a fine wine.

  “They are frightened by the creation of Belvua,” he said with eyes closed. “They see my entering the mansion as a symbol of Londheim’s leadership surrendering to the unknown. We are monsters to be fought, not equals to be met at a diplomatic table.”

  The mist faded away as Cannac lowered his arms.

  “The damage the Forgotten Children have done is immeasurable,” he lamented. “If only our first meetings between races had been of peace and a sharing of information so we might better understand the changes of time. Perhaps then their opinion of the dragon-sired would be improved.”

  “Actually most people’s first encounter with the dragon-sired was with the giant owls, uh, eating us,” Tommy argued. “And I believe you speak for their queen.”

  “True,” Cannac said. “Arondel shares her own portion of blame. Perhaps I am fortunate we dyrandar did not awaken near your cities. In those first early hours, anger and fear ruled over all.” His face darkened. “Or perhaps Arondel and Naiser have been hiding their relationship with the Forgotten Children since the very beginning. The amount of fowl and lapinkin among their numbers is… troubling. Hrmph. I must think on this later.”

  Once their escort had grown to twelve, the lead guard in charge shouted for them to start their travel. Malik grabbed Tommy by the arm right when he started to follow.

  “We don’t have to accompany him,” his mentor said quietly.

  “Yes,” Tommy said as he pulled his arm free. “We do.”

  The three marched in the center of the twe
lve soldiers, an angry, noisome crowd following on all sides. Their curses and shouts were beginning to lose meaning to Tommy, instead becoming a singular wave of sound that represented the dark, awful place many found themselves in since the black water washed away their normal world. He found himself blamed for crimes he could never have committed. He heard Cannac accused of deeds only the Goddesses could have performed.

  Most of all, he heard him and Malik called traitors, and Cannac a monster. It was the one consistency amid the hate.

  “Make way,” guards shouted as they pushed through the crowd. “Make way, or we’ll make the way ourselves!”

  No matter their urgency, they could not move as rapidly as the lead guard wished. There were too many people. Everywhere they went, people gawked from doorways and windows, and for every rowdy man or woman who trailed off, two more seemed to take their place. Originally Tommy viewed the banishment to Belvua a cruel and misguided punishment, but now he wondered if it was the safest decision. Not for Londheim’s sake, of course, but for Cannac’s.

  Still, other than a few bruises from stones tossed from afar, it seemed they would reach Belvua without things escalating. It was only when they reached the final road to the district gates that reality disabused Tommy of that notion. The way to Belvua was blocked by over fifty men armed with clubs and knives.

  “This is bad,” Tommy said, and he spun to face the way they came. Another seventy or so were still in pursuit, their faces red from shouting. The guards surrounding them barely concealed their fear.

  “Keep going,” one shouted to the others. “Make them disperse.”

  Far easier said than done. They started to shuffle forward, but the men blocking the way raised their weapons and planted their feet. They made no demands. They didn’t shout like the others in tow. They simply held firm and refused to move.

  “Will anyone come help us?” Malik asked the nearest guard. The burly man didn’t even bother answering. The crowd closed in. The insults grew starker, the threats more vivid, more real. Tommy felt panic clawing at his skull and pecking at his eyes.

  “We… we need to… we…”

  He couldn’t even form a sentence. He didn’t know what they should do, where they should go. If only the people would stop screaming at them so he could think!

  It appeared Cannac had no such difficulty. The dyrandar lifted his hands and bowed his head as if he were in isolated prayer within a church and not a street teeming with people on the edge of rioting. A low drone exited his throat. Lights shimmered into existence between his antlers. Was this it? Tommy wondered. Was this when the powerful dyrandar would finally strike back with his magic?

  “Cannac, whatever you’re planning, please don’t hurt them,” Tommy shouted. Words of spells ran through his mind, and sparks of electricity shot from his fingertips. “I’ll do it. I’ll protect us! It’s all right if they hate me, it’s all right!”

  The city guards protecting them gave up trying to keep the crowd at bay peacefully. Several started beating at those nearby with the butts of their spears, while others punched and elbowed those too close. Screams of pain and fright joined the angry. It seemed all the world moved slowly. One man tried to swing a club at Cannac. A spearhead to the gut was his reward.

  That was it, Tommy knew. The final line crossed. Blood was on the ground, human blood, and the roaring crowd would not be sated until it was mixed with the blood of monsters. Electricity grew around his hands. Of all the elements at his disposal, lightning seemed the most likely for those afflicted to survive. One big strike and they’d scatter, he prayed. His hands began to swirl, the verbal components tumbled off his lips, and he visualized where the bolt would hit amid the mob.

  Cannac reached over and grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.

  “No,” he said. “No more violence.”

  The collected colors between his antlers exploded like a storm unleashed. Tommy staggered, for it hit him with physical force. His mind went blank, and he felt a sensation like falling. Everyone gathered reacted likewise, startled looks replacing their shouts or cries. Tommy’s stomach pitched, the falling sensation heightened, and then the emotions hit. It was a cavalcade of anger, fear, confusion, and sorrow. They rode over him like stampeding horses, and he was not the only one. Dozens fell to their knees. Weapons dropped from limp hands.

  Tommy’s mind struggled to understand whatever magic gripped him. He felt angry, but there was a foreignness to it. He was angry at Cannac. He was angry at creatures he’d never seen. He felt intense fear threatening to send him fleeing, but the fear was directed everywhere, at Cannac, at the guards, at the size and anger of the crowd. But he knew he didn’t fear Cannac. It was someone else’s fear, he realized. Someone else’s panic and uncertainty.

  “We are one upon the Cradle,” Cannac said. His voice was a trumpet cry on a silent eve. “So live as one. Share your emotions as one. This contention must end peaceably, for the only other fate is war.”

  The anger steadily cooled, unable to maintain its fiery intensity when intermixed with so many other emotions. Everyone’s fear was so naked, so communally shared, that the anger could not hide it. Bluster could not tame it. Tommy scanned the crowd and wished he could comfort them. If only they could see the Cannac he had seen, if they could know the intense joy and beauty found in Tesmarie’s smile, and the playful cheeriness of Puffy’s puffs of smoke.

  Except they could. He felt his memories leaking to the others. It was a cool balm upon red and violet waves that floated through the air. Cannac’s overwhelming presence joined in, and it was a dominating sensation of calm and desire for peace. More weapons dropped to the ground. A sigh escaped his lips. This was what Cannac had always hoped for, he realized. This was the peace only a dyrandar could help achieve.

  The blur of a moonlight blade flashed through the crowd, horrifyingly familiar to Tommy’s widening eyes. It was the passage of a creature he thought Tesmarie had defeated. The time-breaking flight of an onyx faery. Gan never slowed. He passed right underneath Cannac’s chin and then was gone, vanishing like a dream.

  For one long second it seemed all was fine, and then a deep red line of blood opened across the dyrandar’s throat.

  “No!” Tommy screamed. “No, no, no no no no!”

  All color faded from the air. The hopeful silence built by the dyrandar crumbled just like his enormous body. Men and women stirred from a dream. Tommy needed no spell to sense the return of their fear, their confusion, and their anger.

  “Hurry,” Malik said, his hand clasped about Tommy’s wrist. He dragged him out past the circle of guards, who themselves seemed at a loss of what to do. When the crowd surged for the body, the guards gave way, for a corpse was not worth their own lives. What had been angry screams became joyful cries. People took turns kicking and spitting on Cannac’s form. Others beat at his chest and face with their clubs, steadily mutilating it beyond recognition.

  “Don’t watch,” Malik said, pulling harder at Tommy’s arm. “Please don’t, Tomas, please don’t watch.”

  But he had to watch. That was his friend. That was the majestic King of the dyrandar. Tommy tried to resist Malik’s pull but either the older man was too strong, or Tommy lacked any of his own to resist, for he steadily retreated from the scene. With so many gathered around the body, he couldn’t make out their actions anymore.

  At least, not until they lifted Cannac’s severed head like a prized deer.

  “Look at me,” Malik said, grabbing Tommy’s head with both hands and wrenching his gaze away. “Just me, do you understand? Not over there. Not at the crowd. Me. Just me.”

  Tommy stared into Malik’s lovely brown eyes as tears streamed from his own. The image replayed itself again and again. A loud, rousing cheer. The head lifting up, positioned on the edge of a spear. The dead gaze. The ripped and loose-hanging tongue.

  “Tommy! Me! Look at me!”

  Tommy’s gaze focused as he pulled out from his mind. Streaks of ice stuck to the wa
lls of the alley. Frost layered his fingertips. Bits more of it clung to Malik’s eyebrows and chin like snow. A spell? Had he cast a spell? He didn’t know. He wanted to break down in sobs, with the whole world vanishing as if it had never existed. Malik’s arms wrapped around him, and he felt his mentor kiss his forehead several times.

  “I know it hurts,” Malik whispered. “But I need you together. Can you keep it together, at least until the tower? They’ve forgotten us for now, but if they grow bored while we’re still near…”

  Tommy returned the embrace, and he found his strength returning. After a few long sobs into Malik’s shirt, he withdrew and nodded.

  “I think so,” he said.

  “Good.” Malik grabbed him by the hand. “Now run.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Evelyn knelt upon the rooftop edge, her hood hanging low over her face and her wings curled tightly about her. Four Ravencallers hurried down the street below under the cover of night. Three of them held hammers, ropes, and nails. The fourth carried a corpse slung over his shoulder, a male human child maybe ten to twelve years old. No doubt the bastards had already worked their magic upon the poor boy, and now it was time for the ritualistic mutilation and hanging of the corpse.

  Logarius has much to atone for, she thought as she followed the group. Avenria were to be the protector of souls, but now with her son’s help, the humans were performing blasphemy against the gifts granted to them by the Goddesses.

  As if you’re so blameless.

  Evelyn pulled her two sickles from their hooks. The soft leather of Whisper and Song against the rough skin of her hands calmed her nerves and helped push aside her guilt. Yes, she had much to atone for, but that’s why she was out there in the dead of night stalking those desperate or foolish enough to be swayed by the Book of Ravens. Avenria lived long, long lives. Hopefully by the end of hers, not a single trace of that damn book would remain upon the face of the Cradle.

  “Hurry up,” one of the four Ravencallers admonished the others. “We won’t have enough time if you keep dawdling.”

 

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