Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “How?”

  “Vikar Forrest wants nothing to do with being Deakon, which leaves Vikar Caria as my only other real contender. Publicly throw your support to me. With you at my side, the vast majority of keepers will vote along with you.”

  “And why should I do this?”

  The old man smiled at her.

  “Because if I am Deakon, then I must appoint a successor to take my place as Vikar of the Day. There is a woman from a humble church in Low Dock who I think would be the perfect candidate.”

  So Vikar Thaddeus sought the role of Deakon, just as Tamerlane had theorized. Adria headed for the exit, wanting nothing more to do with the dank, foul cells.

  “Will you accept my offer?” Thaddeus asked as she passed.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  Adria banished her fear and panic and accepted the only future that awaited someone such as her. To run from it was cowardice. To embrace it was proper. It was divine.

  “On if I decide to become Deakon myself.”

  CHAPTER 31

  The sun crested over the walls of Londheim, and beneath its rising light the first of the wayward ghosts faded away. Devin held Jacaranda’s hand and let out a long sigh as the two watched Brittany’s ghost shimmer.

  “I think you’d have liked her,” he said. “She shared Tommy’s sense of humor, and the more absurd, the better. Never met a man or woman she couldn’t win over with her smile. She also wouldn’t tolerate anyone’s nonsense, mine in particular.”

  “You don’t seem too prone to nonsense,” Jacaranda said. “In fact, you’re the most level-headed person I know.”

  “Fresh-faced and newly appointed Soulkeeper Devin was a bit more opinionated and stubborn.” He squeezed her hand. “By the Goddesses, you should have been there when I suggested she retire from her position so we might have children. She lifted that giant sword of hers and demanded I spread my legs. ‘I’m a Soulkeeper until I die,’ she tells me. ‘So we better hack off that sack of yours lest children become an issue.’ That shut my mouth pretty damn quick.”

  The sobs of an elderly man nearby paused their conversation. Over one hundred people crowded the graveyard. What had once been a shunned, almost cursed place was now another wondrous attraction that collected both gawkers and heartfelt family members. The gathering ruined a bit of the mystical feeling Devin had experienced that very first time witnessing the wayward spirits, as well as confirmation that the ghosts saw nothing of the real world. If Brittany called out to him, as she sometimes did, it was to a phantom that only she might find.

  “Do you still miss her?” Jacaranda asked. She seemed focused on the old man weeping on his knees before a softly swaying ghostly woman in her late seventies.

  “I think I always will,” Devin said. “She was a piece of me.”

  “It’s strange to realize this, but I’ve never lost anyone,” Jacaranda said. “I’ve never had anyone to be attached to for most of my life. The closest I can think of was Marigold, and I knew her for only moments. Even that loss cut deeper than I knew was possible.”

  “The greater your love, the greater the hurt upon its loss. You may not have known Marigold well, but you loved her for what she was, and what she endured.”

  “Is it worth it, then? To love someone so deeply?” Jacaranda cast her gaze to the ground. “Brittany died six years ago, yet still you weep over her grave.”

  Devin took in a long breath and let it out slowly. He was in no hurry to answer, not with how important that question was to him. It helped that he felt more and more comfortable discussing Brittany around Jacaranda. Expressing his love toward his lost wife did not put into question what he felt toward Jacaranda now. Such a sentiment should have been obvious, but Devin knew he was pretty good at missing the obvious when it came to love and family.

  “Losing Brittany was the greatest pain I have ever felt in my life,” he said as he shivered against a cold wind blowing through the graveyard. “Yet I would rather experience it a hundred times over than lose a single second of time I spent with her. Yes, Jac, it is worth it. More than worth it. I think it’s the sole reason the Goddesses put us upon the Cradle, to love and be loved.”

  The two fell silent, and they watched as Brittany’s ghost shimmered into morning mist. Devin felt a soft ache upon her departure. Would it ever get easier? he wondered. Then again, did he ever want it to?

  “Do you… do you think you could love me as much as you loved her?” Jacaranda asked softly. She didn’t look at him, only stared straight ahead. He could feel her grip on his hand tighten. She was nervous, so nervous, and she shouldn’t be.

  “Absolutely,” he said. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “The most I can give is all my heart, and if you’ll keep putting up with me, you’re welcome to have it.”

  Jacaranda laughed even as a stray tear worked its way down her cheek.

  “Goddesses above, you’re so lame sometimes. It’s a good thing you’re not a poet. Your sentimentalism would cause vomiting.”

  The two joined the line of people exiting to the street. Devin had feared that particular graveyard would be overflowing once word spread, but every graveyard throughout Londheim had experienced similar wandering ghosts. It seemed wherever there were enough buried souls, their memories took on physical form and began to wander while the moon was full and the reaping hour near.

  “I bare my heart and you return it with mockery,” Devin said, nudging her with his elbow. “Just like Brittany. Apparently I have a type.”

  They broke from the rest of the crowd, making their way back to Devin’s home. They kept hand in hand, like little schoolchildren in love despite the both of them being in their thirties. Devin didn’t mind. Physical contact was obviously complicated for Jacaranda, and however way she chose to show her affection was good enough for him. He only wished he’d taken his glove off first, so he could feel her skin against his skin, the chill morning air be damned.

  “Hey, Devin,” she said once they were alone in the quiet street. “There’s something I think we need to discuss.”

  Devin wondered if this would be about her returning last night bleeding and injured. Adria had come over just before bed, weary but still happy to heal the wounds with a prayer. So far Jacaranda had not explained where she had gone or what happened, other than that it involved ties to Gerag’s illicit trade.

  “I’m all ears,” he said, pretending not to be worried or nervous.

  “I’ve been thinking about… what I am. And the people I’m putting at risk by keeping my condition hidden. I think it’s time I present myself to the Keeping Church.”

  This was it, then. The moment Devin had feared since she’d awakened. His boots clacked atop the stone, and they seemed to fall all the heavier.

  “You put yourself at risk doing so,” he said. “I hope you understand that.”

  “I do. But you already know about Marigold, and I heard rumors of more soulless awaking in the east. Many more.” She shuddered in his grasp. “And that those who awaken are declared mad and put to the death.”

  Shivers nearly caused Devin to miss a step.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “In the market, when the first boats from Stomme arrived. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m not the only one. Why would I be? But if people see the initial reactions of an awakening soulless and decide it is some sort of madness, or even worse, ignore them instead…”

  Then innocent awakened were being murdered. Devin wished it weren’t true, but deep in his gut he knew it the case, just as there were an underground sex trade of soulless despite the Keeping Church’s insistence otherwise. When faced with two possibilities, the bend of the world almost always curved toward the darker.

  “We need to be careful,” Devin said as they paused before the door to his house. “I’ll speak with Adria about arranging a meeting with her Vikar, though that may take
time given the Deakon’s death. Your connection to Gerag makes things all the trickier. We’ll need to prove you were soulless, and no, some tattoos won’t be enough. Your knowledge about Gerag’s business will help… but they might also think you were a part of it, with the tattoos as some sort of… disguise.”

  His ideas clearly hurt Jacaranda, and he could tell she wanted to argue his points. Instead she nodded and thrust open the door.

  “I have to try,” she said. “If it saves lives, then it’s worth the risks.”

  The two were so preoccupied with one another that they were both inside hanging up their coats before they noticed the intruder. Devin startled and dropped his hat, then immediately blushed with embarrassment.

  “Hello, Evelyn,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  The dark-clad woman bobbed her head, and it seemed her lower beak shivered up and down. Laughter? He couldn’t tell. She leaned against the wall beside the fireplace, her wings seemingly made entirely of shadow instead of feathers. Not a terrible decision, given the somewhat cramped conditions of the room. Tesmarie sat on her shoulder, looking as pleased as could be.

  “Forgive me for startling you two,” Evelyn said. “I have matters of utmost importance to discuss.”

  Jacaranda finished hanging her coat, but he noticed she kept her short swords belted to her waist. He had no reason to fear the strange woman, but Devin decided it was a wise decision. He hung up his pistol and ammo pouches, but he leaned his sword against his elbow as he sat down upon the couch.

  “This morning’s been one of important conversations,” he said. “Go ahead, Evelyn. Tell us what you came to tell.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tesmarie said to Evelyn, her wings aflutter as she left the avenria’s shoulder to land atop her bed-shelf. “We can talk more once you’re done, all right?”

  “Very well, onyx one,” the avenria said. She turned her attention to Devin and Jacaranda. “I suppose I should introduce myself fully, for it will perhaps add gravitas to what I am about to request. My name is Evelyn, and not counting our centuries of sleep, I have led the avenria as their clan leader for the past seventy years, inheriting the role from my father upon his death. Much of that time I warred against humanity’s relentless westward expansion, and I have spilled the blood of hundreds of your kind upon Whisper-Song’s blades.”

  “Should I be worried?” Devin asked, and he was only half-joking.

  Evelyn waved a hand at him dismissively.

  “I tell you this so you understand my mind-set during the final ten years before your Goddesses sealed us away. Humanity was a wildfire. Nothing stopped your spread. You took and you took, and the dragons were given no choice but to accept this. They themselves were the Goddesses’ creation, after all. But we weren’t. We were the dragon’s creations and felt no love for your Goddesses. We fought. We died. And all the while, your newly formed Keeping Church preached this as proper and good, for we were soulless wretches, and you humans were precious, perfect children of precious, perfect Goddesses.”

  “I’m not sure I understand where this is going,” Devin said.

  “Because you have no patience or foresight,” Evelyn said. “Let me state it plainly, then. I am the author of what humanity refers to as the Book of Ravens.”

  That got Devin’s attention. He shifted farther onto the edge of his seat. The blasphemous book of Ravencallers? The mysterious, unknown author was right here before him?

  Shouldn’t you be called… a ravenkin? Jacaranda had asked upon first meeting Evelyn. In that light, the name of both the book and Ravencallers seemed painfully obvious in its inspirations.

  “I’ve not read it,” Devin said. “But I know of it. It attacks the Goddesses and challenges their role over humanity.”

  “That is because it is the angry scribblings of a woman who lost her grandchild in an unending war.” Evelyn crossed her arms and looked away. She sounded so tired, so worn down by life. “I wanted to show your race that the Goddesses were not all-knowing, all-loving, and all-forgiving. I wanted to prove the creations of the dragons were equal to humanity, but I could not do that so long as they believed us imperfect and themselves perfect.”

  “And so you taught humans curses?”

  “Those curses are not mine,” Evelyn snapped. “They belonged to your Mindkeepers and Faithkeepers, and they were wielded against us at every battle. Your kind thought of these curses as holy fire descending from the heavens and righteous fury wielded by noble warriors of the Goddesses. They didn’t see the hatred and anger in them. They didn’t see the torn flesh and mutilated corpses. I did. And I wanted every last human to see them, too.”

  Jacaranda touched Devin’s shoulder to keep him from speaking. He wanted to argue against her claims, for it painted the church in such a dire, blasphemous light, he felt an instinctive need to defend it. Instead he kept silent, knowing his emotions and logic were compromised.

  “I saw you fighting when we marched into Low Dock,” Jacaranda said. “You were killing Ravencallers. Why would you do such a thing, when you yourself wrote the book?”

  “Because I wanted the church’s positions challenged,” she said. “I wanted the dragon-sired to be seen in a new light. What I never wanted was to create a cult focused on harming others and mutilating souls for twisted pleasure and gain. We avenria were made to protect the Cradle from the void, which still had a strong presence upon the Cradle in the very earliest days of creation. Now I find my son has perverted his very purpose and begun harming and manipulating souls for his own benefits.”

  “Your son?” Devin asked.

  “Yes, my son. Logarius, the leader of the Forgotten Children.”

  Devin could hardly believe what he was hearing. The Book of Ravens, the sudden rise in Ravencallers throughout Londheim, the takeover of Low Dock and rebranding as Belvua… it was all tied to Evelyn and her son.

  “Why are you telling us this?” he asked.

  “Because my son has begun to meddle in things far beyond his understanding, and I cannot stop him alone. Below the city, I have discovered certain… machinery that manipulates the stars’ protection and mimics the powers of the Goddesses. I need help destroying it.”

  Devin stood. A change swept over him, his curiosity replaced with steadfast determination. He saw the same change go through Jacaranda. They shared the same understanding. Janus’s machinery was powerful, dangerous, and should never be used again. He strapped his sword back to his belt and retrieved his pistols.

  “We know of what you speak,” Devin said as Evelyn watched them prepare. “We thought it was destroyed after it changed my sister. If you know how to tear it down, then lead the way.”

  “Should I come?” Tesmarie asked. “This sounds super-important.”

  “Of course,” Devin said. He offered her his coat pocket, and she quickly hopped inside.

  “Will you be safe traversing during the day?” Jacaranda asked as they gathered at the door.

  “Not as safe as during the night,” Evelyn said. “But I will be fine if I stick to the rooftops.”

  “All right then,” said Devin. “Let’s go.”

  He pushed the door open and stepped outside to discover a full squad of city guards waiting in the street with their swords drawn. Two Soulkeepers stood at the ready, a man named Wilt whom Devin was vaguely familiar with, and a woman Devin knew all too well.

  “Make this easy for all of us,” Lyssa said. Her gaze was locked on to Jacaranda and her swords. “Surrender your weapons and… what in Anwyn’s is that?”

  Devin glanced over his shoulder. They’d seen Evelyn. Holy shit, this was bad.

  “Lyssa, wait,” he said, hoping to talk things down, but the avenria would have none of it. She vaulted toward the ceiling and then passed straight on through, her wings a wide, misty stretch of darkness. A second later she reappeared on the rooftop, her legs already pumping to leap over one home to the next.

  “Chase after her!” Lyssa shouted, sending Wilt int
o a sprint toward the rear of the building. Devin trusted Evelyn to escape, but there was a faery who might be more stubborn.

  “Go, quickly,” he whispered as he patted his coat pocket. Tesmarie zipped out of it in a blur, but instead of fleeing, she paused in the air, her hands clasped before her chest and little diamond flecks in her eyes.

  “Devin, what’s going on?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry, now go!”

  The faery obeyed, her wings carrying her into the sky and far beyond the reach of the stunned city guards. Devin wished he could watch her go, but Jacaranda had still not relinquished her weapons.

  “Don’t fight,” he said. “Trust me, I’ll get us out of this, all right? Just don’t fight.”

  He dropped his sword and pistol to the dirt. Jacaranda hesitated, still debating. There were so many, but with Evelyn leading several after her, Jacaranda might be able to escape. Part of him hoped she would, for at least her life would no longer be in his own hands. Somehow, someway, he’d fucked everything up, and now the church was at his doorstep demanding answers.

  “So be it,” Jacaranda said. She lowered her short swords to the ground and pushed them away from her. Guards barked orders at them, and at their command, he and Jac bowed their heads and placed their hands behind their backs. Manacles slapped down across his wrists. Devin bit his tongue and swallowed his ire. He wanted to demand an explanation, but he’d only be wasting everyone’s time. He knew why they were there.

  “I thought you’d always have my back,” Devin told Lyssa. The woman flinched as if he’d slapped her. Instead of arguing, she strode over to Jacaranda and pulled the scarf from her neck, exposing her chain tattoos.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. She turned to the soldiers. “Take them both to the cathedral.”

  They marched Devin and Jacaranda through Anwyn’s Gate, through the Soulkeepers’ Sanctuary, and out into the Deakon’s garden that surrounded the Old Vikarage. Though the triangular building was most often used as a shared living quarters for the three Vikars and the Deakon, there was one room within that harkened back to the oldest days of the Keeping Church: the judgment room.