Ravencaller

by David Dalglish

  “The people trust in you deeply,” Forrest had said after pulling her aside in the Scholars’ Abode, which, along with the Sisters’ Remembrance, was rapidly being converted to house the many left homeless after the grand cathedral’s fire. “Do not break their hearts. Nothing is more dangerous than wounded love.”

  Please, Devin. I didn’t know.

  She had brought over a hundred men and women from death’s cold embrace, but it was the one she failed that broke her heart. Adria walked across the little triangle symbols that marked the graves. In each one she saw the lost souls abandoned by Anwyn in their final time of need. Why had the Goddess not taken them into her bosom?

  The ground shook, and a roar like thunder followed. Adria tensed her legs as two of the women with her cried out in fear. Her head swiveled to the west, and terror lodged itself in her throat as she watched a river of black water flowing into the air. Was this it? Had the crawling mountain reawakened to destroy them all with corruption and rot like Devin had described to Dunwerth?

  If its aim was to destroy, it was only a small portion of the city. She watched the water turn and crash down upon a single district of Londheim. Belvua, she realized. But why would the dragon destroy the magical creatures there?

  Her answer came in a great burst of red and orange light. No, not destroy. Create. The distance was too great for her to see clearly, but it seemed like the colors moved and shifted through the air like some of the great flocks of birds that migrated south ahead of winter. There was nothing ominous about their light, only awesome wonder.

  “What do you think it is?” Sena asked beside her.

  “I don’t know,” Adria said. “But it is a concern for the morning. Come, we have our purpose here.”

  Adria walked to the very center of the graveyard. Her hands lifted to either side of her, and she tilted her gaze heavenward. She could feel the lost souls squirming in their graves, waiting for the time of Eschaton to ascend to the stars as promised.

  “Stand still,” she told those with her. “No matter what you see, do not reach out. Souls may seem like brilliant light, but they burn hotter than any fire.”

  Knowing right from wrong was proving a heavy task, and already she felt she’d made terrible decisions. She’d given in to her anger. She’d killed recklessly. As she solidified her position in the church, she’d need someone she trusted to guide her. Adria smiled. Tamerlane Swift, Vikar of the Day. It had a nice ring to it. At least that was one decision she felt confident in.

  This was another.

  Adria clutched the abandoned souls in her mind and hurtled them starward in great silver beams. They need not wait until the time of Eschaton to ascend. Let them find peace. They need not be ghosts any longer. More and more floated, a backward rain, shooting stars racing upward instead of crashing down to the Cradle. The men and women with her gasped in awe, and despite her insistence to remain still, two of them fell to their knees in prayer.

  Adria knew not how much time passed, but it must have been several minutes. The novices were crying. The two Mindkeepers sang a low hymn, the verses listing the joys awaiting them in the hereafter, of meeting friends by blue rivers and embracing loved ones amid rolling hills of flowers. Adria breathed in deep, and she exhaled a growing tension between her shoulders.

  “The Cradle is blessed by your actions this night,” Sena said. Her friend put a hand on her shoulder. “Let it remain at this, and go home. I know what you’re planning. It’s too much. You would meddle where only the Goddesses should dwell.”

  Adria trusted Sena with her life, and she knew she should listen to her advice. It would be the smart thing to do. The safe option.

  I’m so sorry, Devin. I can’t bring her back.

  Despite his sorrow and pain, Devin had shown her the way. He’d lighted her path. Yes, she could destroy, but it was life that she should embrace with her gift. There was a reason the triangle of the Sisters connected forever, one Sister to the next in equal measure, for neither birth, nor death, nor the span between, should be elevated above the rest. For so long she’d focused on her abilities to kill and command.

  Tonight, she would re-create life.

  “Do not be afraid,” she told Sena. “All I do, I do in the Goddesses’ beloved names.”

  “I disagree, and I won’t partake in this.”

  “Then go. My course is set.”

  Sena hesitated, and then before leaving, she flung her arms around Adria and held her close. Adria kept still, and she did not return the embrace.

  “This isn’t the Sisters’ doing,” the Faithkeeper whispered. “It’s yours, and I fear the guilt that guides it.”

  Adria watched Sena go. She knew she should be bothered, but her heart was too heavy to add yet another weight. People would always fear her power, she knew. Even those who loved her.

  “Bring me the soulless,” she told the others with her.

  The novice in charge of the soulless woman whispered something in her ear, and she came forward to kneel before Adria. Her hair was long and blond, which was good, though her eyes were green, not blue, and her face and skin were paler than what Adria remembered. It would have to do. Adria closed her eyes, for she did not need her physical sight to see the world of the spiritual. This was it. No turning back. Her heart in her throat, she took hold of the lone soul she’d left behind in the graveyard. A mere thought sent it rising, but not to the stars.

  The soul plunged into the soulless woman’s body. Adria grabbed pieces of it like bundled string and stretched them through the various limbs. The soul squirmed like a trapped squirrel. Adria massaged it, coaxed the memories to reawaken, told it that those arms were hers, those legs were hers, the flesh, the blood, it was all part of her body to experience. Let its memories and emotions flow into her, to be forever cherished when the Cradle sank into the sea and the world were remade perfect and free of the void-dragon’s influence.

  A scream opened Adria’s eyes. The woman, once soulless but no longer, shrieked at the top of her lungs. A novice held each of her arms, preventing her from clawing at her face. The woman’s chest heaved as she struggled, her gaze unfocused and her legs thrashing. Adria did not shy away. Trusting her novices, she put her hands on the woman’s shoulders and met her bewildered gaze.

  “Welcome back, Brittany,” Adria told the screaming woman. “Do you remember me?”

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  When I plot out a series, I tend to focus much more on the immediate events of the current book and not think too much on where I’m going beyond a vague outline. I do this so I can allow myself to be spontaneous. In other series, this has meant characters dying that I meant to have live, or other times characters living that I meant to kill off. But in each series, there will be key moments that I know are coming and will have already visualized and replayed in my mind countless times. These “big” moments are what keep me excited about a story, and keep the story moving along. Adria undergoing the transformation at the end of Soulkeeper was one such moment.

  Brittany’s return was another, and damn, was it fun to finally write that final line of greeting. I can’t wait for you all to meet her. She’s going to be a blast. Then again, I love most of my characters, even the disturbing, twisted ones.

  Speaking of disturbing and twisted, I’m sure some of you are probably a little disappointed Janus didn’t get the same spotlight like he did in Soulkeeper. This was a necessity to give some of the newer factions some time to shine, plus his own innate desire to “burn it all down” doesn’t quite fit with the goals of the Forgotten Children. Now, though? When it comes to the next book, Voidbreaker, we’ve got everything set up for him to go wild… and just like the sick little fucker, Dierk, he’s got a bit of an obsession with a newly forming goddess.

  It’s taken some work, and I thank you for being patient, but I’ve set up so many pieces to play with, I cannot wait to dive into Voidbreaker. Adria’s starting to become something the church might fear. Armies of dragon-s
ired are marching toward Londheim. West Orismund’s cut off, alone, and its power structure is rapidly evolving. The keepers are all realizing how much power their prayers wield, and even Tommy’s bullets are going to be a hot commodity after Devin’s little light show. And I’ve still got some creatures to introduce you to, and others to bring back from Soulkeeper. Oh, and then there’s the whole slaying a Goddess thing, and Lyra popping in to say hello.

  Fun times. Such fun times.

  I do need to find a way to introduce Puffy to more of the action. Hopefully you all enjoyed his POV chapter. The little thing deserves its own happy spin-off. Maybe a Keepers children’s picture book? Puffy and the Really-Bad No-Good Black Water might not be age appropriate, though.

  What was decidedly not fun was writing the initial moment of and then subsequent chapters following Tesmarie’s death. I used to sadistically enjoy writing character deaths, knowing I’d be shocking my audience and really get their emotions going. That much younger me is long since gone and done. I dreaded writing this chapter. I hated writing it when I did. I felt horrible and sad along with Devin, Janus, Adria, and the rest. My editor can attest to this, but I debated having Viciss resurrect her, as well as other potential time-altering shenanigans to save her. Tesmarie was a source of joy for the characters, and for me. I’m going to miss her, and if it wasn’t obvious enough, her passing is going to leave a very deep scar on a certain pair of siblings.

  Ugh. Enough of that. Thank you to all the team at Orbit for the great work on the book, the series’ sexy covers, marketing, and all that other stuff I’m terrible at but you all make look easy. Special thanks to my editor, Brit, for sticking with me and not losing her mind every time I asked for extra time or called needing to work through a particularly troublesome note.

  And most of all, thank you, dear reader, for coming along with me on this journey. There’s a million and one things out there vying for your attention, but you gave me your precious hours instead. I hope I repaid that with a hell of a good story. As always, I’ll see you at the end of Voidbreaker.

  DAVID DALGLISH

  MARCH 18, 2019

  Discover Your Next Great Read

  Get sneak peeks, book recommendations, and news about your favorite authors.

  Tap here to learn more.

  The story continues in…

  VOIDBREAKER

  Keep reading for a sneak peek!

  extras

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Myrtle Beach Photography

  DAVID DALGLISH currently lives in Myrtle Beach with his wife, Samantha, and daughters Morgan, Katherine, and Alyssa. He graduated from Missouri Southern State University in 2006 with a degree in mathematics and currently spends his free time dying for the umpteenth time in Dark Souls.

  Find out more about David Dalglish and other Orbit authors by registering for the free monthly newsletter at www.orbitbooks.net.

  if you enjoyed

  RAVENCALLER

  look out for

  VOIDBREAKER

  The Keepers: Book Three

  by

  David Dalglish

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sweat rolled down Brittany’s neck and forehead, little rivulets stinging her eyes while on their way to the tip of her nose. With her every push-up, the growing drops would shake until finally falling to join the puddle beneath her.

  Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty.

  Her arms burned like fire. Her heart hammered inside her chest. Both spurned her on, and kept her body rising and lowering above the stone floor of her room. More drops fell, growing the puddle. She’d have wiped her face with her shirt, but it’d be pointless. The cloth was already soaked through with sweat.

  Sixty-five. Sixty-six.

  On sixty-seven, her shaking arms collapsed. A soft groan thudded out of her as she landed chest first upon the floor. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to the cold stone. Just a little break, she told herself. Just a moment to catch her breath.

  A knock on the door opened her eyes. Had she slept? She honestly didn’t know. Time seemed to flow weirdly in this room of hers.

  “One moment,” she said.

  Vertigo washed over her the moment she spoke. Brittany clenched her hands into fists and rode it out. It’d gotten better over the past week, but it still unnerved her when she spoke and heard a distinctly foreign voice come from her throat.

  You’ll get used to it in time, Adria had told her during one of their many private sessions. Maybe so, but never completely. One didn’t forget the sound of their own voice.

  It took longer than she’d anticipated to get to her feet. Her arms didn’t want to cooperate. Sixty-seven push-ups and already her body was ready to call it quits. What a joke.

  “Come in,” Brittany said when she finally opened the door. Adria stood on the other side with her hands crossed behind her back. Even with her face hidden behind her black-and-white mask, there was no mistaking her. An elaborate jewel-encrusted silver pendant hung from her neck, a triangle with a bright daytime sun in the top-right corner. That pendant marked her as Vikar of the Day, a rank she was temporarily filling while Londheim awaited the election of a new Deakon to appoint an official replacement.

  “Shouldn’t you be wearing a white suit?” Brittany asked. She turned from the door and pulled her soaked shirt off. The novices had put a small basket in the corner for her dirty clothes, and she tossed her shirt into it while opening her lone clothes drawer. Her options weren’t many, just a few various shades of gray. Adria kept offering to take her on a trip to some clothing shops, which Brittany flatly refused. She’d not left this small, square room since her very first day back from—from whatever it was she’d undergone while dead.

  “I only recently had my measurements taken with a church-approved tailor,” Adria said. “It will take some time, and truthfully, I’m not sure how happy I am to leave my dress behind.”

  Brittany grabbed a shirt at random and turned. Adria’s eyes quickly looked to the floor, which earned her a derisive snort as Brittany pulled it over her head.

  “They’re just tits, Adria. For Sisters’ sake, they’re not even mine.”

  Those brown eyes snapped back up to hers.

  “It’s not good for you to refer to your physical body as belonging to another. I believe it will slow your integration.”

  “Acknowledging this isn’t my body is the only thing keeping me sane,” Brittany argued. “My body was capable of one hundred push-ups and sit-ups without rest. This one is skinny, weak, and better suited to wielding a dagger than my greatsword. Speaking of, have you made any progress in bringing me a replacement? It’d help with my practice.”

  Adria gestured to the cramped room. It was four walls, a bed, a lidded chamber pot, and a clothes drawer. Nothing fancy, but given the purported destruction of the Cathedral of the Sacred Mother, everyone was making do with significantly less finery these days.

  “And how would you swing it without carving grooves into the walls?”

  Brittany shrugged.

  “Fine. Get me a sword, and maybe I’ll leave this room more often. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “What I want is for you to start living your life.”

  Brittany’s mind flicked through a few ideas of what that might even mean. Patrolling as a Soulkeeper again? Moving back in with Devin in the home they’d shared? Or perhaps joining Bailey and Hanna on their trip to the Winding Gardens, obediently carrying her younger siblings things while…

  No, wrong, wrong, she thought, her insides churning hard enough she had to grab the dresser to steady herself. Tommy is your brother. Tommy, not Bailey, not Hanna.

  Her spell did not go unnoticed. Adria reached for her hand, only to have it brushed away.

  “Are the memories still confusing you?” she asked, showing no sign of being upset by the rejection.

  “It’s getting better,” Brittany said. Her fingers rubbed at her eyes, as if she could scrub away her frustrations.
“Not at night, though. When I dream, I dream of this body’s past. She might have been soulless, but she had a name, a family. I can almost feel myself going numb and falling into that past persona. It’s… disconcerting.”

  “The physical body creates and stores memories and emotions,” Adria said. “The soul does likewise, but for a permanent remembrance, and therefore it is much stronger. The life your soul lived will slowly burn out the old existence, I assure you.”

  “You make it sound like I’m murdering the previous owner. Don’t talk like that again. It’s creepy.” She glared at the mask. “And take that thing off. I’m family, not one of your subjects needing prayers.”

  Adria put a hand to the bottom of her mask but then hesitated. Brittany crossed her arms, and her expression made it clear there’d be no more conversation until the mask was gone.

  “If it will make you feel better,” her sister-in-law said at last. She pulled the mask off, revealing her pale face and shadowed eyes. Errant strands of sweaty hair clung to her cheek and neck. Brittany fought to suppress a reflexive wince.

  “You’re not sleeping well, are you?”

  “Is it your turn to aid me?” she asked, a small smile curling the sides of her mouth.

  “If not me, I hope someone else is. You look worse than I do, and I’m recently back from the grave.”

  “It’s merely stress. Others suffer far worse than I.”