Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  “On your knees,” a novice ordered. In the center of the room was a recessed triangular stone, its dull gray in stark contrast to the polished hardwood of the rest of the floor. Devin kneeled into it, the odd angle and his manacled arms forcing his body to bow. Surrounding him were four raised lecterns. The three Vikars stood at their respective positions, the lecterns emblazed with gold symbols representing Dawn, Day, and Dusk. Only the center lectern remained empty, and would be until a replacement was voted in for the deceased Deakon.

  “With the Deakon’s absence, it is the responsibility of the Dawn to begin this judgment,” Vikar Caria said. Like the other two, she wore a slick black suit, immaculate, tailored to her form. There were no windows in the judgment room; it was instead lit by a dozen hanging lanterns. The shadows danced across her angular face, adding a sharp edge to her beauty. “Soulkeeper Devin Eveson, you are accused of the illegal capture and possession of a soulless individual, of lying to your superiors, of trafficking with enemies of West Orismund, and of using a captured soulless for purposes of pleasure. Have you any words to say in defense of yourself?”

  Devin looked up at the three Vikars. Thaddeus and Caria seemed disgusted by him, whereas Forrest appeared unable to meet him in the eye.

  “You see these events in a dire light,” he said. “You must understand, Jacaranda is not soulless. While I traveled with her to Oakenwall, Alma granted her a soul during the reaping hour. She thinks, feels, and acts as a free-willed woman. Talk with her. Spend time with her. The truth is clear as the midday sun!”

  The Vikars stared at him with mixed expressions of shock and disgust.

  “Awakened?” Forrest said. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course I am certain,” Devin insisted. “I was there. I saw her soul return. I’ve spoken with her, about her past, her servitude toward Gerag, about what it means to be awakened.”

  “And why did you not bring her to us?” Thaddeus asked. “We could have borne witness to such a miracle ourselves. You’re a bright man. You understand the incredible ramifications of such an event.”

  Devin felt his neck flush.

  “I left the decision to Jacaranda,” he said. “Bringing her situation public put her life at risk. I would not do so against her wishes.”

  “And so you lied to me,” Forrest said. “I asked you if the rumors of your keeping a soulless were true, and you lied right to my face.”

  “It was no lie, for she wasn’t soulless. And even if you disagree, I did so to protect her.”

  Forrest slammed an enormous fist down upon the lectern.

  “I am your superior! If you wanted her protected, then you should have told the damn truth, and I would have protected her.”

  Devin bowed his head.

  “I did what I thought was right,” he said. “I understand the consequences of my actions. Do what you must. All I ask is that you treat Jacaranda with kindness and compassion.”

  “Kindness? Compassion?” Caria lifted a small sheet of paper before her and scanned its contents. “From what testimony we have already heard, this soulless woman attacked and killed three men at the Gentle Rose brothel. Have you any justification for those murders, Devin?”

  A memory of Jacaranda staggering through his doorway, her clothes stained with blood, flickered through his mind.

  “I can offer none,” he said. “For this is the first I have heard of such murders.”

  The three Vikars leaned toward one another, their height and distance allowing them to whisper without Devin clearly understanding. Whatever they discussed, they were displeased. After a moment they reached some sort of decision.

  “Jacaranda’s nature is crucial to understanding these events,” Thaddeus said. “I believe, though, that if given time to speak with Jacaranda, I can break through any façade, no matter how well trained, to confirm whether or not she is soulless. For now, let us move on to other matters. Who was the black-garbed creature accompanying you at the time of your arrest?”

  “Her name is Evelyn,” Devin said. “She’s an avenria who knows of a place important to the Ravencallers, and she came to me seeking help destroying it.”

  “I’ve read the description of this… Evelyn,” Thaddeus said. “It matches the race of many others who attacked our soldiers and keepers in Low Dock. Why would you think she would help you against the Ravencallers?”

  “Because these magical creatures are just like humans,” Devin said. “They’re not of one mind. They don’t always agree. Other avenria might have attacked our people, but Evelyn fought the Ravencallers that night. I know, because she saved me from one of their curses.”

  “Is that so?” Forrest asked. “I don’t remember that detail when you gave your report on the night’s events. More lies, Devin, even if by omission?”

  Devin winced, and he had no defense to offer. He’d kept so much of his life hidden from the church since the black water swept away Dunwerth. It was foolish to think it wouldn’t one day catch up with him.

  “You show emotional attachment to a murderous soulless,” Caria began. “You ally with, what did you call it? An avenria? A member of a race that has killed dozens of our faithful, and Soulkeeper Lyssa also reported that a strange black faery was hidden on your person when you were arrested. Taken together, these events make me question your loyalty to humanity. Your logic, and your faith, may well be compromised.”

  Devin straightened his back, manacles and awkward angle be damned.

  “My faith in the Goddesses has never wavered,” he said. “Those I have befriended are kind, wondrous people, be they human or not. We are capable of living peacefully alongside these newly awakened races. I believe that with all my heart. Again, judge me as you wish, but I will not apologize for what I have done.”

  It seemed the Vikars were not prepared for how confrontational he might be. The claim that Jacaranda was no longer soulless disturbed them particularly, and he caught whispers of her name as the three took a moment to quietly discuss among themselves. After a few minutes they returned their attention his way, and Thaddeus cleared his throat to speak.

  “It is clear we cannot pass proper judgment upon you without speaking with Jacaranda to ascertain her status,” he said. “Until then, given the seriousness of the charges leveled against you, you shall remain in our custody.”

  Devin sensed the meeting at an end, and he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Please,” he asked. “May I see Jacaranda so I know she’s all right?”

  “And let you potentially manipulate her testimony?” asked Caria. “No, Devin. There will be no contact between either of you. If she is a soulless with a newly granted soul as you claim, then we shall deal with the theological ramifications in due diligence. If not…”

  She shook her head.

  “Then your time as a Soulkeeper is at an end.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Master Dierk?”

  Dierk looked up from his desk and smiled. Ever since casting the domination curse upon his father, he’d made the servants refer to him as Master. It gave him a sense of legitimacy he never knew he needed.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “The Royal Overseer is here,” the well-dressed servant said.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”

  One of the commands he’d given his father was that anytime someone came to meet with him, Dierk would also be summoned to participate. As expected, Soren had struggled a bit against it, but not as much as that first day. So long as he cast the curse every night, Dierk found himself with another twenty-four hours of a subservient father. It was everything he had ever dreamed.

  He pushed away his book and stretched. It was a dry tome detailing the rights of traders and shopkeepers during times of famine and war: just the sort of thing his father would have forced him to read. Unlike before, Dierk dove into it with a hunger. The idea of being in charge and making important decisions was no longer some distant future possibility. The time was now, and sud
denly he found himself craving information to ensure he made the right decisions or wasn’t taken advantage of.

  Granted, he could always ask his subservient father for advice, but really, that was his least desirable course of action.

  Dierk joined Albert and Soren in the same lounge as before. Unlike before, the doors were closed and locked, and Dierk had to knock to be let in. He could tell from the looks on both their faces that something serious was afoot, but he couldn’t begin to guess what.

  “All right,” Soren said. “Now Dierk is here, we can begin. Tell me the letter in full.”

  Dierk sat in a chair across from Albert and listened to the report. It was short, vague, and baffling in its implications.

  “The Queen has cast us aside,” Albert said. “She’s informed me that West Orismund is to consider itself alone in the west. We shall receive no aid, no troops, and in return she expects no taxes or tributes to be paid in return.”

  “I don’t… what does that mean?” Dierk asked.

  “It means West Orismund is effectively a free, independent country,” Soren said.

  Dierk glanced at his father. It was always interesting observing how he acted under the curse. So often he behaved as himself, as if he weren’t even aware the curse was upon him. It was only when he tried to act against Dierk, or break one of his rules, that a change came over him. The offending behavior would be cast aside, and then Soren would smoothly follow any given commands as if nothing had happened.

  “A free country,” Albert said, nodding in agreement. “It’s damn ridiculous. We spend weeks waiting for word from the east, and when it comes, it’s to tell us we’re on our own.”

  “But why would she relinquish authority over us?” Dierk asked, still not believing it. “She fought a war against South Orismund for attempting to secede, yet now she would let us go without a single shot fired?”

  Albert rubbed his hands over his brown hair cut close to the scalp.

  “You ask good questions, young man, but I have no good answers for them. If I were to hazard a guess, it’s that the trials we face are ones that they themselves share. Perhaps the Queen has decided to focus her resources on the eastern coast and abandon the west. Perhaps the Queen is no longer Queen, and we’ll receive word of an imposter or a coup. Until that happens, we have to act on what information is available.”

  “How do we act on this information?” Soren said. “And who all is aware of it?”

  Neither man had a drink, and Dierk found himself desperately needing one, so he hopped up and poured two glasses of wine from the shelf. After a moment he caught himself and poured a third. It would look strange if he did not get one for his father, too.

  “Thank you,” Albert said, accepting the glass. “And so far I have told no one of this message. Considering your status as Mayor, I felt it best to inform you first so we might together plan on how we consolidate power. Without the Queen’s authority, both our positions are in a precarious spot. Worse, with the bulk of West Orismund’s troops in either Wardhus or Stomme, either general there could side with a wealthy landowner or Mayor in an attempt to seize control. That’s even assuming we keep West Orismund together as a single nation, which right now feels like a monumental task.” He shook his head and laughed darkly. “We can’t even handle things here in Londheim. Why would anyone trust us now?”

  Dierk’s mind scrambled for a proper plan of action. He wanted to make these decisions himself, but this was far out of his league. He gestured to Soren and beckoned him to offer a solution.

  “We need to act fast,” his father said. “First things first, we keep this information close to our chest. The longer it takes for word to spread of the Queen’s abandonment, the more time we have to consolidate power. Until then, we need to focus on fostering a sense of identity for West Orismund, one that is wholly separate from the east. Perhaps a name for these lands that was used before the crown officially took control. We also need to rename your position. If the people of West Orismund view you as their anointed king, their chosen ruler, we have a shot at preventing anarchy.”

  Albert stared into his cup and nodded along.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to be some sort of king,” he said.

  “Then step aside, and allow someone else to do it,” Soren said. “But you know damn well no one else in all the west is as skilled at manipulating both lords and commoners as you are. You have to be the lynchpin in this, Albert, or we’ll see our lands descend into a rabble of competing city-states that…”

  Fire exploded in the air between them. Dierk cried out and sank into his seat, his arms crossed defensively before his face. He waited for the heat to hit, to char away his hair and skin, only it never came. Instead a deep roar shook the furniture. The sound of it hit Dierk’s stomach like a sledge, and immediately he felt overwhelming rage streak through his veins like lightning. His hands turned to fists. His teeth clenched together so tightly he feared the enamel would crack.

  “Overseer? Where… is… Overseer?”

  Dierk dared open his eyes. The fire was not fire, but a burning sphere of light. Its edges were not smooth like a ball, but jagged, warped, the way the brighter portions curled through the darker resembling something like exposed veins. An image flickered in and out of focus within that steadily growing sphere, that of a robed and horned dyrandar holding a staff.

  “Cannac?” Albert asked. The Royal Overseer sat dumbfounded, the light of the dreamfire casting long shadows across his face.

  “You would speak his name?” the dyrandar asked. He whirled on Albert, and suddenly it felt like he were a hundred feet tall, towering beyond the ceiling, beyond the walls, all else receding away into shadows until they were gnats before an enraged bull. His head tilted, his eyes focused, and it seemed he finally saw Albert clearly.

  “Overseer?” he rumbled. “Ruler of Londheim? Are you the monster before me?”

  Albert sat up in his chair, and he looked as dignified as one could be when facing a furious god.

  “I am Albert Downing, Royal Overseer of Londheim,” he said. “And who… whom do I speak with?”

  The dyrandar shook his fists. His antlers flickered with golden light.

  “I am Shinnoc, son of Cannac, new King of the dyrandar and general of the united dragon-sired, and I vow upon my dreams and nightmares to destroy Londheim with such savagery, even the dust that swirls in the morning light will not dare lay upon your ruin.”

  The fire withered. The dyrandar folded in on itself. As quickly as it came, the vision broke, the spell cast upon the three breaking like thin glass. With its departure, light seemed to return to normal. Dierk’s ears rang from the dyrandar’s cry. A heavy weight left his chest and shoulders, and he sucked in air as if newly granted the ability to breathe. The three men exchanged looks, surprise and bafflement keeping a firm hold of their tongues.

  “It seems word of Cannac’s death reached beyond the city,” Albert said dryly at last.

  “No shit,” Soren said. “An army marching toward our city, right as Queen Woadthyn has abandoned us to our own devices? The timing is beyond suspect. We’ve been isolated, starved of information, and now soon to be besieged.”

  “We’ll be fine, won’t we?” Dierk asked. “Londheim’s never fallen. We have our walls, and we have the river.”

  “And they have a goddess-damned mountain,” Soren said.

  “A mountain that has not moved in weeks,” Albert cautioned. “And whose motivations we cannot begin to guess, so let us not waste time in making assumptions.”

  He crossed the room to refill his drink, which he’d spilled at some point during Shinnoc’s abrupt appearance. Outwardly he seemed calm, but Dierk caught the shake of his hands as he tipped the bottle over to pour.

  “All that matters now is how do we act on this perceived threat?” Albert asked upon retaking his seat. “Is there a way to salvage all this, or do we turn our tails and run east?”

  Dierk’s father looked his way. Confidenc
e filled him. This was it. This was his time to step up to the grand task. Deep down, Dierk knew his father would have called for the most practical of solutions and ordered a massive evacuation. Londheim was in no shape for a siege, not when they couldn’t hold a single district from the dragon-sired insurgents. But Dierk knew things Soren did not. There was power lurking in Londheim, power they were yet to tap.

  How many soldiers could Adria alone destroy with the might of her soul?

  “We don’t run,” Dierk said. Though it likely seemed a suggestion to Albert’s ears, to Soren’s imprisoned mind, it was an order. “We stand firm and fight for our home.”

  A brief flash of pain marked his father’s face. A momentary resistance, but it meant little against Dierk’s spell.

  “We tell the truth,” Soren said, suddenly calm and focused. “In our moment of need, the Queen has turned her back to us. We’ll use that rage to unite the people under your rule. We’ll come up with a new title for you, a new name for our kingdom, and dozens of promises and bribes to keep the wealthiest merchants and landowners in line. We’ll prepare our soldiers, and we’ll hope that reinforcements arrive from Wardhus and Stomme. If there really is an army out there, it’s going to take time to gather together and march east. We’ll have plenty of warning before they arrive. When they do, we’ll be ready.”

  Albert rose to his feet and offered his hand to Soren.

  “Thank you,” he said, and glanced to Dierk. “Both of you. It is good to know that I will have your aid in these coming tribulations.”

  Despite the fear and unknown of Shinnoc’s threat, it felt so good seeing the Royal Overseer acknowledge him in such a way. Dierk’s smile spread ear to ear. Perhaps, in a year or two, he wouldn’t even need to keep his father around as a puppet. He’d be ready to step into the role in full. With Soren obeying his every command, it wouldn’t be too hard to act out some sort of unfortunate accident while in the public eye.