Summer of Crows

by Hans Cummings

  “I was hoping to speak with one of your assistants when he returned from his hunt. Torben, the man from the Four Watches?” Tasha understood the orchard owner’s concern. Upon rising one morning to view a hut from legend overlooking their livelihood, a person might feel intimidated.

  “What’s he done?” His scowl deepened. “He’s a good lad.”

  “Yes, I agree.” Tasha smiled. “I want to see him again. I like him very much.”

  “But why? What has he…” The man’s eyes at first narrowed, but then they widened as a smile grew across his face. “Oh. You wish to see him.” Florin cackled. “Oh, that dog.” He rubbed his hands as, laughing, he strode away.

  Tasha felt her cheeks grow hot.

  “Is all this necessary?” Huffing, Maxim’s armor clanked as he crossed his arms.

  “Calm yourself.” Tasha shot him a glare. “As I said, if my way is not to your liking, you can take the long way. If so, I’ll see you there sometime tomorrow.”

  A group of people, farmers by the look of their attire, were the last waiting for the Crow Queen. One of the men, the son perhaps, knelt. An older man pulled him to his feet. “We saw your hut here, Crow Queen, and want your blessing. We’d normally go see Mother Anya, but since you’re so close and such…”

  “What is it, exactly, that you need?”

  “Our farm used to be fed by runoff from the Copper Run, one of the little streams coming off it. Some beavers have built a dam, and now we get nothing. If we don’t get our water back, most of our crops will die. I fear we won’t have enough food at harvest for the winter.”

  “Cybele’s tits, why are you farming on such arid land, then?” Maxim circled the group of farmers, sneering. “Surely there are more suitable locations.”

  “The Lord Mayor took the rest of our land for debts he said we owed.” The farmer rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve made do the last several years, but please, Crow Queen, can we have your blessing to destroy those dams, maybe hunt the beavers?”

  “For the love of… you don’t need her permission for that.”

  Tasha glared at Maxim. The farmer fought to keep from scowling. “Begging your pardon, Sir Knight, but my family has always been given to seeking blessings for taking what’s not ours. Gaia, Cybele, and Artume provide for us, but they don’t provide those beavers.”

  The farmer lowered his eyes. “Back when our family was nobles, the beaver was on our crest. It seems wrong to be killing them for doing what they do.”

  “What family?” Maxim stopped in front of the man.

  “Maxim.” Tasha cleared her throat.

  “Sir Maxim, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do, in fact.” Tasha interposed herself between Maxim and the farmer, placed a hand on the knight’s breastplate, and pushed him aside. “Leave me to my business and stop interfering, or I will let you deal with your ghost on your own.”

  She returned her attention to the farmer. “What is your name?”

  “Mircea Castor.”

  “Mircea Castor, the goddesses appreciate your devotion and your humble request.” The mantle grew warm around her shoulders. “Try to drive away the beavers before destroying their dams. If you fail, you may hunt them, but do not let them go to waste. Instead, make an offering to Artume for their gift if you’re forced to destroy them. Take care of your farm and your family.”

  “Thank you, Crow Queen. We won’t forget your kindness.”

  “Be well, and may your harvest be fruitful.” Approaching the hut, Tasha left the farmer and his family. Upon the door opening of its own accord, stairs erupted from the earth. She began her ascent even though they had not yet reached the open doorway.

  “Come along, Maxim. The stairs go away when I close the door.”

  His clanking followed her up the steps. While waiting for him to reach the top, she conjured an image of Dawnwatch, a location with which she was unfamiliar. The scene in the back-door portal revealed a crumbling wall alongside a building that had a large chestnut tree protruding from the roof. The canopy of the tree stretched over half the courtyard. Revan and Korbin swooped through the back door.

  “What sorcery—”

  Tasha held up her hand. “Do they teach you skepticism in knight school? You cannot be this ignorant of magic.”

  “I beg your—”

  “Stop. Walk through the door. You were extremely rude to those farmers, and I will not abide such behavior, particularly from one for whom I am performing a favor.” Although Tasha knew her height had not changed, she felt as if she now towered over the nobleman.

  Clearing his throat, Maxim approached the image. “How do I…”

  “Just walk through. I’m right behind you.” Tasha closed the front door. Upon crossing the room, she passed through the portal behind Maxim.

  Chapter 51

  “Lady Aveline!” A watch sergeant burst into the vestibule of the citadel, catching her with a butter-laden slice of bread halfway to her mouth. “You’re needed at Danica’s Den.”

  Reaching for her mace and shield, she tore into the bread. “Care to elaborate?”

  “We were patrolling and heard screaming within. People started fleeing. Brana and Jolan are trying to maintain order, and I came to get you.”

  “Come on, Valon.” Aveline stuffed the rest of the bread in her mouth, trusting Valon to lock the door of the citadel on his way out. One of the disadvantages of having a small constabulary was often not having enough people to keep the building open at all hours.

  Just up River Road from the citadel, a crowd of patrons and onlookers surrounded Danica’s Den. Folk wanting to get to their houses cursed, forced to wade through the mass of gawkers. Aveline pushed her way through until she reached the front steps. Physically blocking the entrance with his arms crossed, a barrel-chested, bearded man barred the doorway, glaring at anyone in the crowd who appeared as though they intended to gain a closer look.

  Glancing at Aveline and the constables accompanying her, he stepped aside. Inside, the gloomy floor of the gambling den glittered with fallen gambling paraphernalia.

  Danica circled the tables, muttering. She glanced upward, noticing Aveline’s entrance. “There’s nothing you can do unless you brought a mop.”

  “What happened?” Grinding coins and tokens into the wooden floor under her boots, Aveline could not avoid stepping on debris.

  “The Lord Mayor was entertaining a woman upstairs, people were gambling, everything was going well. I was making a killing today on dumb mudders trying to take down Yun.” Danica plopped into a chair. Her frazzled hair drooped over her face. “It was the most awful scream, and then something oozed between the floorboards. There.” She pointed to a puddle on the floor.

  “Where’s Koloman? Why in Tinian’s name was he here instead of home? He doesn’t like to mingle with the common folk.” Aveline approached the puddle. One whiff told her she did not wish to draw closer to it. The stench reminded her of the pile of bodies in the mine combined with rotten onions.

  “I was as surprised to see our esteemed Lord Mayor.” Danica scoffed. “Naturally, he was the first one out the door. Kept screaming, ‘It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.’”

  Aveline peered at the ceiling above the puddle. Goo dripped between the floorboards, trailing strings of viscous liquid.

  “Where’s the woman he was with? Who was she?” Valon offered Danica a clean rag to wipe her nose.

  Danica pointed at the puddle near Aveline. “I think that was her. I didn’t know her. Not one of my girls, anyway. She came to town with a group of traders, I think.”

  Aveline’s lip curled in disgust. “Maris’s bloody spear.”

  She approached the back of the gambling hall.

  Valon called to her as she climbed the stairs, “Want someone to come with you?”

  “Not yet. Keep everyone out of here.” Aveline readied her mace and shield as she neared the landing for the second floor. Upon entering the hallway leading to the private rooms, she found fa
int footprints leading toward her. The footprints grew darker as she proceeded, and it became apparent whoever made them trod in the dripping goo.

  Following the footprints to their terminus, she came upon a closed door. Raising her shield, Aveline pushed it open with her foot. The stench of decaying flesh and rotten onion assaulted her, causing bile to rise in her throat. Featuring only a bed and a small table with a basin and wash pitcher, the austere room was used for hired liaisons. Blankets strewn about the floor were soaked, and the mattress showed similar evidence of the substance currently dripping through the floorboards.

  Koloman’s clothes, what he left behind, lay at the foot of the bed. A sheer dressing gown, such as those the comfort women at Danica’s often wore, rested on top. Upon approaching the bed, Aveline viewed a pile of bones, stained and discolored by the goo, lying near the edge of the soggy mattress.

  Gagging, overwhelmed by the stench, Aveline backed out of the room. Fighting to keep her breathing slow and steady, she returned to the first floor. She hurried to a bottle of whisky on the bar, fumbling to open it.

  Valon came up beside her. “Are you all right? What did you see?”

  “I can’t be sure.” She drank from the bottle, only to find it empty. “It looked like the flesh melted off her bones.”

  Upon setting the bottle on the bar, she headed over to Danica. “You said Koloman ran away screaming? Did he say anything else?”

  Shaking her head, the proprietor slumped in her chair. That poor woman didn’t deserve that. I told her not to go with him, but you know how he can be.”

  “I’ll find out what happened.” Aveline put her hand on Danica’s shoulder. “She’ll have justice. You have my word.”

  * * *

  The midday sun flooded Dawnwatch with warmth and light. Tasha squinted until her eyes adjusted to the glare. A light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers through the courtyard, and she almost wished she had come alone. Clanking, Maxim’s armor rattled in cacophonous contrast to the rustling of the wind in the leaves of the massive chestnut tree that had taken over the barracks and part of the outer wall.

  “You see? Look at the damage that tree has caused.” Maxim pointed at the thick trunk protruding from the convergence of the bailey curtain wall and the rear of the barracks. Several axes lay strewn about under the tree. Broken blocks of masonry also littered the area, evidence of the so-called ghost’s attack on Maxim and his men.

  “Where are the others?” Despite the interior spaces of the keep and ancillary buildings being hidden from the location where they stood, Tasha saw no one else in the courtyard.

  “They set up a camp just down the hill. I assume they’re still there.” He darted forward, seizing an ax, then dashed again to Tasha’s side.

  The limbs of the chestnut tree shook as a deep wail filled the air.

  “You see? You see?”

  She slapped the ax out of his hands. “Don’t provoke it. Stand behind me and remain silent.”

  Smoothing her skirt and cloak as she lowered herself onto the dirt, she knelt.

  “What are you—”

  “Do you not understand what silence means?” Tasha glared at him over her shoulder. “Remain silent or go away.”

  Exhaling, she opened her mind to the Earth Mother. She sensed the worms in the dirt, the grass, Maxim standing too closely behind her, and the tree.

  A familiar sensation washed over her like the warm air of the sylvan glade. The loamy scent of earth filled her nostrils. She sensed another presence nearby.

  The tree.

  Opening her eyes, Tasha regarded the trunk. A face formed on it, matching the coloration, pattern, and texture of the tree bark. Eyes the color of chestnut leaves in spring blinked. A head, arms, and shoulders belonging to the face pulled themselves free from the tree, examining its surroundings.

  The dryad glanced around the courtyard before focusing on Tasha. A wild mane of mossy hair brushed her shoulders. “I know you. Why are you with that biter, Crow Queen?”

  Fully extracting herself from the tree, she regarded them, placing her hands on her hips. Her feet anchored themselves in the dirt with tiny roots. “They come with axes and fire, gnawing, biting, slashing, burning. This is my home now!”

  “What is that?” Maxim drew his sword, holding it at the ready.

  Tasha forced his arm down. “This is the dryad who moved in after the garrison abandoned Dawnwatch.” She turned toward the tree-like fae. “What is your name?”

  “Gwilvanwen. Send these biters away, Crow Queen.” Stepping forward, the dryad smiled. Seductively, she ran her hands over her body. “Unless you mean to give him to me. A fitting payment for trying to kill me.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Maxim pushed Tasha away, brandishing his sword. His slack-jawed stare contrasted with his aggressive stance.

  “Revan and Korbin screeched.

  Maxim!” Tasha spun on him. “Put that away. I will not allow you to harm Gwilvanwen. And she will not attack you further as long as you don’t come at her with an ax.”

  Tasha glanced over her shoulder at the dryad. “Right?”

  “Or fire.”

  Maxim sheathed his sword, his eyes lingering on Gwilvanwen. “This creature cannot stay here. This keep is the property of the crown. I demand it vacate at once.”

  The Crow Queen stepped backward, surveying the dryad and Maxim. “I can tell you she can’t do that. I will not allow you to harm her or her tree, so you have a choice. Talk with us about this, or you can leave this keep abandoned and allow the land to reclaim it.” Tasha gestured at Gwilvanwen. “Would you be willing to share with them? They have claim to this structure from before that seed sprouted.”

  “Then why’d they let it fall to rot for more summers than I can count? Mother provided this for me. This is my home now.” She ran her hands through her hair, tossing her head.

  “Maxim, consider the advantages to having a dryad live here at Dawnwatch with you.”

  “I haven’t said they could stay.” Gwilvanwen stomped her foot.

  Tasha held up her hand, eyeing the dryad. “And they have agreed to nothing. You said you know me. Do you trust I will allow no harm to come to you?”

  Lowering her gaze, Gwilvanwen pursed her lips. “Of course I do, Crow Queen.”

  “I cannot imagine what use this creature could be. Almeria will not abandon Dawnwatch. Again.” Staring at the preening dryad, Maxim’s furrowed brow relaxed.

  “Perhaps you could imagine more freely if you accept that she has a name and is not a mere creature.” Tasha dug her feet into the soft earth of the bailey. She felt grass sprouting beneath her feet and growing all around them.

  Maxim crossed his arms, jerking his head at the ruined wall of the barracks. “Well, what about that? We can’t just leave a great giant hole in the wall.”

  “Fae, like dryads, are connected to the land at all times. It doesn’t matter what the weather is like. In spring, summer, and autumn, she’ll be able to warn you of travelers or trouble long before any lookouts you have would spot them.” Tasha glanced at Gwilvanwen. “Isn’t that right?”

  “I could, but why should I?” Gwilvanwen held out her arm. Revan and Korbin alighted on her.

  Sighing, Tasha lowered herself to the ground. “Both of you, sit. We are going to learn how you can live together if it takes all night.” Or longer.

  Chapter 52

  Several townsfolk related to Aveline and Valon that they witnessed a half-naked man running toward Old Town. No one confirmed his identity, however, as no one believed their elusive and snobbish Lord Mayor would ever allow himself to be seen in such a light.

  Aveline had Valon gather several constables as backup and meet her at Koloman’s estate. Both the gate and the front door lay ajar. Once the guards assembled outside, she laid out the plan.

  “Valon and I will enter the house. Anton, you watch the front gate. Lock it after we enter, then allow no one to pass. Understand?”

  Nodding, the young man
straightened his helmet. “Yes, m’lady.”

  “Fania.” Aveline addressed a stocky woman carrying an ax. “You and Jolan search around the back of the house. Lazlo can stand watch at the front door after we enter.”

  Upon securing her shield on her arm, she readied her mace. “This is the Lord Mayor of Curton, so fight to subdue, not kill, unless you’re absolutely certain your life is in danger, understand? He’s probably frightened, and he’s not himself. He may not even put up a fight. We don’t know what’s going on, so”—Aveline loathed using a statement her guardian had used on many occasions—“expect the unexpected. Try not to be too surprised if something strange happens.”

  Creeping toward the open door, the knight-captain and Valon advanced. Drawn curtains on the first floor darkened the interior, making it impossible to see clearly past the foyer. Taking the lead, Aveline entered the house, pushing the door open fully. She monitored the stairway to the second floor as well as the left and right hallways.

  Having been in his house only a few times, she tried to recall the layout. She found visiting the Lord Mayor’s home an unpleasant task at best, and she had pushed it onto other people whenever possible. Hearing no evidence of movement, she gestured for Valon to follow her down the hall toward Koloman’s study.

  “We’ll clear the first floor, then check upstairs.”

  The door leading to the study stood closed at the end of the hall. She tried the handle. Upon unlatching, the door swung open. A fire blazed in the hearth, but the chairs normally arranged in front of it lay overturned with Alik lying between them.

  She pointed toward the curtains. While Valon moved to open them, Aveline examined the old man. Deep scratches, such as those left by fingernails, marred his face. Blood pooled around his head, and shards of a crystal bottle lay scattered about. The tang of blood mixed with the aroma of alcohol.

  Sunlight streamed inside upon Valon opening the curtains. The area in which the struggle had occurred seemed confined to the front of the hearth.

  Valon regarded Alik. “Poor old man, looks like someone staved his head in. Koloman?”