Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  “Having a friend assault a prison and burn your guards to death certainly doesn’t scream ‘I’m innocent,’” Malik said. He sat at a small table near a window, the light of his candle reflecting off the frosted glass. For the past hour he’d listened to Tommy’s various escape plans and tortured logic while hardly saying a word.

  “You’re right, it doesn’t!” Tommy said. “Good thing you’re here to help me work through this.”

  “I more meant that as a—sure, Tommy, happy to be here for you, too.”

  “Don’t forget me!” Tesmarie said. She perched upon the fireplace mantel, her head resting on a pillow made of cotton fluff. “I’m here, too!”

  “But you’ve offered no advice,” Tommy said.

  “Well, that’s because I’m as confused and worried as you are, but we’re at least confused and worried together, which is far better than alone.”

  “Wisdom from the littlest among us,” Malik said, and he set aside the book he’d been attempting to read. “Tommy, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep pacing like that. We don’t even know if they’re in the church’s possession or the city guards’. Plotting any sort of rescue is foolhardy.”

  Tommy blushed and forced his legs to stand still. Jitters pulsed through him, and he clenched his hands into fists and fought an urge to run around screaming. Goddesses help him, Devin and Jacaranda were being held prisoner, awaiting a fate Tommy couldn’t possibly know for certain. Every fiber of his being hollered for him to go to their aid. When he next spoke, his movements increased with his every word, until he was once more pacing the room.

  “Sorry, I just, I don’t—I know I’m powerful, and there’s spells I’ve not even tried because, well—they scare me. And this scares me. What if I find out something bad happened and I just sat here with my thumbs up my ass, doing nothing? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking, ‘If I’d just tried to help them, maybe things would be different. Maybe they wouldn’t be spending their life in chains, or banished. Or worse, what if I just watch and do nothing, like I did with—did with—’”

  Tommy was so lost in his own head, he never heard the scrape of Malik’s chair on the floor as he pushed it back, nor saw his approach. The older man’s hand settled on his shoulder. Tommy startled, and with a slight blush in his cheeks, he turned to face him. He expected a wise speech or a firm but gentle admonition to get his shit together. Instead Malik wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

  “Cannac was not your fault,” he said. “And neither is any of this. If there is one constant in this chaotic world, Tommy, it is that you of all people will always make the right choice. Maybe not the best one, or the most practical, but it’ll be the right one, because I have never met a man whose heart is as open and loving as yours.”

  Tommy leaned his head on Malik’s shoulder and sniffled. He felt like a such a child, and the age difference between them didn’t help that none, but it felt so good to have strong arms holding him close. Their bodies pressed together, and Malik did not pull away. Even better than that contact was knowing that someone trusted him so deeply.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. Part of him had fantasized about such an embrace for weeks, and he thought to say something romantic, if not confess his aching desire for them to be together. “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” he said instead, to the horrified disappointment of that part of him.

  Malik kissed his forehead. The warmth of his lips spread through Tommy’s body like hot coals tossed into a bath.

  “Never change,” Malik said. A bit of his old respectability replaced his emotional vulnerability, and he pulled out of their embrace. “I hope you’ve calmed down now, so we can discuss this rationally.”

  “I think so.” Tommy wiped his nose on his sleeve and caught Tesmarie watching them from her perch, a gigantic grin on her face. Upon being noticed, she fluttered between them and pressed her hands together over her heart.

  “You two are so cute,” she said. “Are you officially a couple now? Because I think you’ve been a couple for a while, but no one wanted to admit it.”

  Tommy’s blush, which had only been a bit of red in his cheeks, now bloomed to a full-on crimson wave across his neck. He started to stammer out a response about professionalism and seniority when a flash of blue left a streak across his vision.

  In one moment Tesmarie was before him, and then she was gone. He spun, trying to follow a sudden battle that proceeded far beyond the capabilities of his eyes.

  The twin blue and black streaks flashed in multiple circles seemingly at once, and then they collided together against the far wall.

  “Tes!” Tommy screamed. A single blue streak rebounded, and suddenly Tesmarie was in front of him, her moonlight blade in hand and blood on her torn dress. Her left arm hung limp, and it seemed she slumped to one side as she hovered.

  “I’m-sorry-Tommy-no-time-no-time-I-need-help-so-don’t-move-don’t-move!”

  She cut her moonlight blade into his forehead. Tommy’s confusion and shock kept him still through the pain. What was going on? And the symbol on his forehead, he remembered Devin describing something similar. Was she about to use her time magic on him?

  “Chyron enthal tryga!” she cried when finished and then slammed both her palms flat into the center of her carving. Tommy felt like he staggered backward a dozen feet and out of his own skull despite his physical form remaining perfectly still. His stomach cramped as if to vomit. His own body felt weird to him. His heart thumped once in his chest, and for a sanity-breaking moment he could feel every single ounce of blood slide through the miles of arteries and veins contained within his physical structure. He was breathing in, he realized, a seemingly infinite draught of air that kept going and going, as if his lungs were a million miles wide and the air were a crawling liquid making its way down his throat.

  “T…”

  It took a few minutes, but finally his eyes finished their lazy crawl to focus on Tesmarie hovering in front of him. She was saying something, but what? Did it matter? It’d take like an hour for her to finish. Instead he directed his gaze past her to the far wall.

  “O…”

  As he’d suspected, Gan was the sudden attacker. The faery was pinned against the far wall, though Tommy couldn’t seem to make out how. His wings were free, and they were frozen in mid-beat. Strange colors washed over him in gentle waves, a mixture of pinks and yellows cast as if from a multicolored sun in the sky.

  “M-M…”

  Even Gan’s face was frozen, a look of triumphant hatred pulling his mouth into a grinning snarl. Blood, Tesmarie’s blood, splashed across his dark clothes and face, like azure war paint.

  “Eeee!”

  Tommy’s mind and body snapped together like a coil stretched to its maximum and then released. His heartbeat resumed its normal pace, as did his breathing. Upon looking around, he realized “normal” might not quite be appropriate to his situation. Devin had described the slowly moving world Jacaranda inhabited, but no story could do justice compared to witnessing the hypnotic dance of Tesmarie’s two pairs of wings working in tandem. Malik recoiled in surprise just to his right, and Tommy watched his every motion play out in a hypnotically slow speed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice sounding strangely hollow to his ears. “And are you all right? You’re hurt!”

  “It’s Gan!” Tesmarie said. She grimaced against a wave of pain and held her injured arm closer to her chest. “I blinked him out of time, but he’ll be back soon. I can’t stop him, I need your help!”

  “My help?”

  Before she could clarify further, the colors surrounding Gan faded out. The faery turned toward them both, his wings resuming their steady beats.

  “You should have run,” he said. A shift in his body sent him rushing toward them both.

  “Not anymore,” she said. “This time, I’m not alone!”

  Tommy wished he shared her confidence. He had no weapon, and in the co
nfusion he’d barely given thought to casting any spells. Gan crossed the space between them, no longer a barely perceptible flash, but as Tommy dove aside and then rolled across the stone floor, he decided the faery was still pretty fucking fast.

  “What do I do?” he shouted. Gan twisted, switching targets so that he chased after Tesmarie instead. She darted about, not even attempting to match blades, given her injuries. Instead she cut at sharp angles, relying on surprise to stay just inches ahead.

  “Anything!” Tesmarie screamed back at him.

  Tommy cracked his knuckles and then extended his hands.

  “Aethos!” he shouted, the spell simple enough he only needed to think the other two key words in his mind. A small ball of fire materialized at the end of his finger. Despite the life-or-death struggle, Tommy’s eyes widened with joy as he witnessed in detail the way the magic manifested. The three words of the spell, Aethos creare par-fulg, cut into the air as if he’d written them with a burning quill. He saw them for but a flash before they shriveled and compacted into a tiny yellow ball that resembled a little sun. That ball expanded outward in layers, first orange, then red, until it was the size of his fist.

  The problem with witnessing this fascinating creation was that the fire moved at far too slow of a pace to catch the speedy Gan. Whatever magic Tesmarie had granted to Tommy did not extend to magic he himself summoned. Gan almost leisurely lifted up and over the ball, which struck the wall and fizzled out harmlessly. The spell did accomplish one thing, though; it gained Tommy the faery’s attention.

  “I may miss out on the fun tonight,” he said as he bee-lined straight for Tommy with his moonlight blade raised in his lone hand. “But killing you will make it so very worth it.”

  Tommy fled in the opposite direction, past a nearly frozen Malik, whose mouth was open in an O. He reached the side table, lifted Malik’s book, and spun about with it wielded in both hands like a club. It might not be much against most foes, but it could still batter about a little faery if swung with enough force. Gan hovered just out of reach, and he zipped back and forth, feinting attacks. Playing with him, Tommy realized.

  “You’re such a… frog-kissing stone-humper!” Tommy shouted, trying to figure out what might be offensive to onyx faeries. He swung at Gan, missed, and received a stinging cut across his wrist as his reward. Gan retreated from his retaliatory swing, and he’d have cut again if not for Tesmarie zipping in and blocking. Her body recoiled a foot from the impact. There was no doubt she was suffering from her injury. Tommy cast another spell before Gan might take advantage.

  “Aethos creare empas” slid out of his fingers in silver, faster than the words could exit his tongue, and then the writing brightened, elongated, and became a streak of lightning with a definitive, spear-like shape. This time when it flew at Gan, it crossed the distance at breakneck speed. The faery dove aside, but unknowingly he judged wrong, bringing him into contact with the final third of the lightning spear. The energy swirled into him, and it would have been beautiful if not for the scream of pain and the fury in Gan’s eyes after it passed.

  “You… damn… human,” he said. Tommy’s blood chilled in his veins. There’d be no toying with him after this. That look promised murder.

  Tommy dodged aside the faery’s charge as he would a missile, then scrambled up to his feet and ran. Tesmarie followed after, trying to distract Gan, but there’d be no taking his attention away. The three scrambled and flailed, a chaotic frenzy knocking chairs to the floor and books into the air, all things moving with a slow, mesmerizing pace as if the air were honey and clung to every object. Several times Gan slashed his blade across Tommy’s arms and chest, stinging cuts that steadily grew in severity.

  “Will you just stop!” Tommy shouted as he raced past a frozen Malik. The older man was turning, vainly trying to follow the battle in his far more rapid flow of time. His lips were pulled back and his tongue extended between his teeth. Malik was clearly saying something, but his words were coming out so slowly they were a meaningless drone to Tommy’s ears. He dodged around his dear friend, dropped to one knee, and shoved his hand into the fireplace.

  It was a gamble, but he prayed that in this slower time flow the fire would not be able to transfer its heat to his skin at the same, dangerous rate. He grabbed a log, and he lamented the heat and pain that prevented him from more closely observing the almost liquid-like nature of the flames as they wrapped about his intruding hand for the brief second he held the log. When he spun, Gan was there, moonlight blade ready to stab.

  Tommy smacked him out of the air with the burning log, then let go before it charred his fingers. Gan let out a soft “yelp” as he flew, his wings momentarily curling around his sides instead of flapping. It would have been an opportune moment to attack, but Tommy was too busy blowing air across his fingers and holding back tears. Holy shit, that hurt! Tesmarie zipped to his shoulder, landing lightly on both feet and steadying herself with a hand against his neck. From the corner of his eye he saw the blood dripping from her wounded arm, and it hurt his heart.

  “Enough of this!” Gan screamed after righting himself in midair. His good hand looped about, and Tommy saw the briefest hint of magic words float like smoke in front of the faery before a flash of red washed over Gan’s body. Where there had been one faery were now three, and they moved with eerie synchronicity. When Gan flew in for the attack, the others trailed like phantoms milliseconds ahead or behind, and then there were more, four, five, a dozen similar Gans rushing toward them, as if he were seeing a dozen timelines of Gans coming in to kill him.

  Tommy froze, bewildered at what to do or where to go. His instincts screamed out in danger, but his mind was muddled. He was going to die, he realized then. He was going to die, and his only final thought was how goddess-damned stupid he was, standing there instead of dodging.

  A flash of light burst from Malik’s hand, interrupting the faery’s charge. He pulled up immediately, his eyes spread wide and his arms out at his sides.

  “Wh-what?” Gan said. The after-images vanished one by one, until a single Gan hovered in confusion. “Mother? Mother, please, I promise I didn’t steal it!”

  Tommy didn’t know who Gan was talking to, or why, but he refused to waste this brief moment. His hand stretched out, and he cast the only spell that seemed to have worked that night.

  “Aethos creare empas!”

  The lightning spear struck Gan in the center of his chest. Power swirled through him, eliciting a horrific shriek that scraped like icy fingers across Tommy’s spine. The faery’s wings went still, and he dropped like a fall leaf, weaving back and forth as he fell.

  “You did it,” Tesmarie said, sounding more tired than joyful. She quickly fluttered up to Tommy’s forehead. “Thank you, thank you, now forgive me, this might feel awkward.”

  She touched his skin and ended the spell. Tommy’s stomach heaved, and his normal flow of time hit him like a stampede of horses. He rocked back on his heels, his senses returning to him one by one. Malik stood facing the both of them, his hand still outstretched from casting his spell.

  “Did it work?” he asked. Tommy answered by lifting him off the floor in a gigantic hug.

  “You magnificent bastard, what did you do?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t sure what use I could be, but there was a Gloam spell that muddles the mind, and I thought it might be useful. I see that it was. If something had happened, if… you know what, Tommy? Fuck it.”

  Malik grabbed Tommy’s head in his hands and shoved his mouth against his lips. Tommy practically melted in Malik’s arms as the kiss dragged on and on. The inner workings of his brain ceased to function. The world faded as he closed his eyes and relished the moment, wishing it could continue on and on forever. When Malik finally pulled away, Tommy gasped, realizing he hadn’t even been breathing.

  “What about protocol and etiquette?” Tommy asked.

  “I’ve nearly died twice in the past week. To the void with rules and etiquette.”


  Tommy laughed, because any other reaction was beyond him. His hand ached, the cuts across his arms stung like mad, and his heart pounded in his chest at a mile a minute. He wished he could spend time figuring things out, but he realized Tesmarie was crying, and that couldn’t go unaddressed.

  “Tes?” he asked as he pulled away from Malik. The faery stood over Gan’s body. Little flecks of diamond trickled down her cheeks.

  “Yes?” she asked, her smile failing to mask her sadness.

  “Are you all right?”

  She sniffled and brushed away some of the diamond dust at the corner of her eyes.

  “I’m fine, promise,” she said. “He hated me so much he hunted me down. I wish I knew for what reason. Is it for rejecting him? Or for helping you?”

  “Tes…”

  He extended his arms as if for a hug, and she responded by flying to his chest and burying her face into his robes. He gently closed his arms and tucked his fingers against her back, hugging her as best he knew how.

  “You’re the absolute best,” he told her. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”

  After a moment he felt her pull back so he released his fingers. She fluttered up to his face, planted a kiss on his cheek, and then floated toward the window. Malik, who had patiently waited beside the two, wrapped an arm around Tommy’s waist and pulled him close. Together they watched as Tesmarie pressed her face to the frosted glass.

  “Is something wrong?” Tommy asked.

  “Something Gan said has me worried.” She frowned and then fluttered to the door. She was much too small to open it, and realizing that, Tommy hurried over to help her. Cold air billowed in the moment he cracked it open. He shivered, thought to get a coat, and then halted. Terror constricted his rib cage and froze his limbs faster than any winter wind.

  “Oh no. No no no.”

  The Cathedral of the Sacred Mother loomed high above the surrounding district, and its towering spires and steep triangular rooftops roared with flame, lighting the night sky orange and crimson, a night sky filled with the silhouettes of owls and gargoyles witnessing the destruction commence.