Raven’s Game
Orb of Oriste
Kerry Adrienne
Raven’s Game © 2019 Kerry Adrienne
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Many thanks to:
Bewitching Book Covers by Rebecca Frank
Editing by Grace Bradley Editing, LLC
Formatted by Glowing Moon Designs
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By Kerry Adrienne
Introduction
Raven is an impulsive fairy with a failure complex. Fearing she’ll never be successful she joins a high-stakes game. Win, and the rewards are great. Lose, and her soul will be enslaved forever.
For a full-color map of Oriste, please check Kerry's website here: https://www.kerryadrienne.com/orb-of-oriste-world-map/
I don’t know if Oriste will survive this onslaught.
We aren’t ready.
Every sun cycle, dragons edge closer to the temple, the lean wolves howl, and I pray to the gods the beasts don’t shatter my bones with their sharp teeth before my work is complete. Already, the worms feast on my shell, and I tether to this existence by a single golden thread that dims with the passage of time.
So weak.
And yet, there’s important work I must complete.
All my energy funnels into searching.
It’s our only chance. Oriste’s only chance.
I must find her, but my vision is dark even in the midday sunlight, and I cannot see the threads that bind her to me, or the tangle of choices that fill the void between us. She doesn’t know I look for her and the others. She doesn’t know my pain.
I will find her. The only hope for this lonely land, she will restore the leafy tree, the fruited bush, and the slender sillenfish that slip through the water at dusk like a million silver bubbles.
The prophecy speaks of heroes who can restore the magic stolen by men who walk in scaled dragon skin.
The prophecy speaks of the three.
Yet the dragons breathe fiery songs into our mouths, and now the time is short, and the moon falls from the sky nightly, and the sun wobbles on its path.
I must help as I can.
While I can.
I hear there’s a game in Wildhold, and the stakes are high.
It’s a good place to start.
--The Last Druid, Estermoor 476
Raven winced. It had happened so many times, she knew how it was going to go before it even began. It was always the same.
“Get out!” The elf wadded up the large sheet of scratchy brown fabric and tossed it across the room where it fluttered to the floor like a net. She shot Raven a glare.
The room went silent, and all the girls froze. No one wanted to be the subject of the owner’s ire, or her flogging. Raven folded her hands in her lap to still the trembling and waited for the tongue lashing to finish. Her stomach stung with the weight of losing yet another job.
The elf tucked a stringy gray hair behind her pointed ear and scowled. “You’re useless. Never should have hired you.”
The throbbing of her own heartbeat filled Raven’s ears, muffling the sounds around her. She didn’t dare look up. She was well acquainted with the look a boss used when sending her away. It was always the same. A scowl that erupted with frustration. Mouth drawn and eyes frowning. Sometimes even an eye twitched.
“Did you hear me, stupid fairy?”
A fire crackled in the small stone fireplace and puffed out a smoky heat into the sewing room. Two seamstresses glanced up then ducked their heads back to their work. The others didn’t bother to sneak a glance, but Raven sensed their fear mixing with their desire to see what was happening.
At least they still had their jobs.
She slumped, chin quivering. Perhaps she could salvage the situation. “I tried to do it the way you told me—” She kept her voice low and even.
The old woman raised herself up to her full elven height, which wasn’t taller than a lanthin plant, and put her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed sharp green. If the dragons hadn’t stolen most of the magic out of Oriste, Raven was sure she’d have seen lightning bolts shoot out of the elf’s eyes.
She pointed to the fabric on the floor. “You’ve ruined that entire piece of fabric with your ‘trying’. Do you think cloth is free? I can’t afford to keep replacing it because you don’t know what you’re doing and can’t sew a straight line. It’s not like I expect pleats or ruffles. A damn straight line, that’s all. But no. You couldn’t even manage that.”
Raven opened her mouth, but no words fell out, apologetic or otherwise. The heat of embarrassment climbed her torso onto her cheeks, and she stood to leave. No point in staying where she wasn’t wanted. She’d learned that from experience.
The elf continued. “You really are the stupidest fairy in Lorkhit Ka. Yes, the whole freaking kingdom. Maybe even all of Oriste.” She banged the tabletop with her fist. “But did I listen when the others told me about you? No, I had to be Mrs. Nice and give you a chance. See what it got me? I don’t ever want to see your face around here again, got it? Go!” She shook her head.
Raven dashed to the door, shoving it open as she passed, tears stinging her eyes. The elf’s words rang in her mind. The stupidest fairy. Stupid. Stupid. She slid her hand along the railing as she clambered down the dirt path to the village in a half jog, half slide, pebbles showering down the hill in front of her, bouncing and scattering away from her feet. She didn’t dare look back for fear she’d hear more insults.
More truths.
She half-ran down a few more dirt steps, careful not to trip on the wood beams across the stair edges. One, two…three… How many times had she counted the stairs as she left one job or another?
The air held a chill not unlike what she felt inside, and a breeze wrapped icy fingers around her exposed skin. She kept her feet moving, even though her heart felt the acidic tang of defeat. She had to talk to Benton. He’d be back from patrol shortly and would help her figure out what to do next.
A screech sounded in the distance and she shielded her eyes and searched the sky. The very land seemed to shudder under her feet and the air smelled of dirt and charcoal. A dragon was nearby, but she didn’t see it. It could be hiding in the cliffs or caves or maybe it had passed overhead without her spotting it.
She continued down the path, alert for any sign that the dragon was nearing the area, but silence filled her ears.
Soon, fall would turn to winter, and Lorkhit Ka would settle in for the snowy season in Lostmere Cliffs. The village lay at the very edge of the mountains and often became snowed in for months, with few travelers stopping by and little outside work going on at all. But the bill collectors would come asking for their money even in the snow.
Raven had hoped she’d have a job over the long winter, not be stuck at home with her family like the previ
ous year. Babysitting wasn’t exactly what her hopes and dreams had been. She was too old to be living at home like a child—especially a fairy child. She should be out on her own already, sending money home if needed.
Once they had enough solari saved she and Benton could find a place together, but that wasn’t going to happen on his income alone, even though he made a good wage working province security. No, she needed steady work, too. But keeping a job had become problematic, and that was putting it nicely.
Stupidest fairy.
She paused on the rocky path and looked at the village spread below. Kids, elf and fairy, streamed through the narrow, cobbled streets, chasing each other and playing Lemma Le. Their chants jingled up the hillside like a memory, fat with promise, slow to kill. If only life could be a series of childish games where the only real concern was to eat when hungry, sleep when tired, and chase the lemma through town.
Instead, bills had to be paid and food bought.
No more time for games. Not even dice games, which she loved most of all. But they’d proven to not be worth it. As much as she liked gambling, she hadn’t been blessed by the luck required to make it profitable.
The path took a sharp left on its downhill trek and she hurried along the low retaining wall, her skirts brushing the rough stone with a swish-swish. A child’s laugh pealed through the crisp air. Raven’s tears dried on her face, tightening the skin like a manacle.
She was slave to her own stupidity.
Skirts pulled close, she counted the steps as she made her way to the village. The walk down the mountain path felt steeper today, like a looming metaphor she didn’t want to face.
A shrill shriek threaded through the air and she instinctively dove into one of the bushes at the side of the path. The dragon was back.
Her heart pounded and she peeked out through the leaves. High in the air, circling like a prey bird, a dragon soared. Its wings, the color of an iridescent beetle, shone in hues of shiny green and purple and she could see the spikes spreading across its snout from the tip of its nose to its golden eyes.
“Benton,” she whispered. Her boyfriend would be coming into town any moment. And he’d try to fend off the dragon if it came close. He wouldn’t be able to alone.
The beast circled lower, eyes on the village, mouth gaping. If it decided to strike, there was no real defense. Not yet. There’d been rumors of dragon strikes to the east, with entire villages wiped out with the breath of one dragon.
She couldn’t let Ben risk himself. Intent on getting into town to warn him, she tore from under the bush, the branches tugging at her skirt as she pulled free.
Her pace quickened and she jumped and skipped down the path toward the village. Benton was her life. He held her when she was sad and cheered her on when she had an opportunity. Why the centaur wanted anything to do with her was a mystery. A quick glance showed the dragon sailing overhead, no closer. Maybe it wasn’t coming to attack the village. Maybe it was just sailing by to terrorize.
Her shoe stuck in the mud and her momentum sent her sliding. She grabbed the railing to steady herself then held on as she made her way past the puddles and soft mud.
The town’s dragon alert horn sounded from the church tower, a long, low vibration that traveled up the hills and into any cave and cranny in the rocks. People in the village scattered.
Raven scanned the sky again. The dragon grew smaller as it flew away toward the taller mountaintops in the distance.
“Thank the gods,” Raven muttered. She sighed and smoothed her skirt beneath her fingers. There hadn’t been a dragon alert since spring. Hopefully there wouldn’t be another any time soon. Lorkhit Ka was recruiting a group to fight off any dragons that came near, but they weren’t ready yet, though they had many recruits.
She had tried to convince Benton not to join, but that was probably a hopeless cause. He felt obligated to defend Lostmere and was already part of the sentries.
“I need a job.” Raven knew it was the only way to afford a house in the countryside with Ben. It was the only way to get him away from Lostmere, at least part of the time. He took his job of defense seriously.
The path that led to her parent’s house forked off to the left, and she could see the small mud-brick dwelling in the distance, smoke embroidering from the chimney in a gray thread. Even her sister would be upset about this firing. Enka had gotten her the apprenticeship with the seamstresses, after all.
Maybe they wouldn’t be upset. They couldn’t have had much faith that this would be the job to work out. A tiny button of hope spun in her chest.
She’d really thought she could be a seamstress. She’d always admired the delicate details in the elves’ clothing in Lorkhit Ka—it was the finest in the world. Or so she’d been told. She hadn’t traveled much, so she’d accepted that information as truth, though undoubtedly, the stitching was exquisite.
She dreaded telling them. Though they’d take it in stride.
After all, she’d failed at pretty much everything she’d tried, so it wasn’t going to be a surprise to any of them. She sidestepped an elf carrying a large sack, then took the path toward the village. Facing her family could wait.
Finding Benton was more important right now.
Times like these emphasized that wandering around being a fairy wasn’t enough. She needed to help support the community.
Some days, she wished the dragons would come back. Not really, but she wanted something to break up the monotony.
She shivered and scanned the sky. How many times had she pleaded with the air to bring the dragons to burn her where she stood?
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
Wishing wasn’t going to make things happen, and she certainly didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. She marched down the path. The perfect job—one she couldn’t screw up—awaited her somewhere. She needed to find it, that’s all. And as long as the dragons stayed away from Lorkhit Ka, she’d have a chance to make a good life for herself and her family.
Since the dragons rose to power, they’d gotten bolder and bolder as they expanded the territory they controlled. Some suspected they came from Darkmount, but no one had proven it. When the beasts had first started exploring Oriste, they’d flown over Lorkhit Ka almost daily, but had avoided the area in recent times. The mountains gave the town some natural shelter, and King Kellam had promised to do whatever it took to keep his kingdom safe, but Raven couldn’t help but worry that one day the dragons were going to decide Lostmere Cliffs would look better as ash on the hillside.
She kicked a pebble and watched it roll down the path, bouncing and bumping along and stirring up little dust clouds. Today, she couldn’t worry about dragons. Today, she had to face her family and her boyfriend and tell them she had failed.
Again.
The tears threatened once more, but she shoved them back and marched down the path. She’d find what she was good at, and soon. And she’d show everyone in Lostmere that she wasn’t the stupidest fairy in town after all.
Hands clasped in bunched skirts to avoid the cobblestone puddles, she made her way into the center of town, following the wending streets toward the well where Ben would meet her. Two kids brushed past, the taller one giggling. The smaller one was a fairy, and Raven observed her masterfully lead the other one into a trap down an alleyway where two other fairies waited to tag him and call him out in the chase for the lemma.
Raven watched them disappear then turned and ran smack into the innkeeper. She blinked and stepped back.
He cursed under his breath but didn’t say a word directly to her. Raven’s face heated and she ducked out of his way. She’d not been a good desk person at the inn, either. She’d lost a guest’s package and then let one of the horses run away because she hadn’t secured it when she led it to the water trough. Then, she’d doodled all over the guest ledger and made faces out of the signatures. The next morning, the innkeeper had sent her on her way before she could do any more damage.
Raven caref
ully sidestepped the next group of people passing her, and she could have sworn she heard whispers. She didn’t look back.
I’m being paranoid.
She sensed the centaur before she saw him and within seconds, he clomped around the corner then cantered toward her. His long, dark hair was tied back at the nape and the sword he carried flashed in the sunlight like a little fire. He sheathed the blade and grinned.
“Ben!” She rushed to meet him.
He smiled. “Raven. I didn’t expect to see you until later.” He nodded toward the group of centaurs that followed him. “Lunch break! Maz and Teek, you’re on duty after you get water. The rest of us will catch up to you in a bit, then you can take your lunch.”
A couple of half salutes went up as the centaurs clambered around the well, waiting on the water pail to be hauled up so they could drink. The elves scattered as the centaurs drank, not wanting to be stomped on inadvertently.
“I missed you.” Raven waited on him to approach.
While everyone in the town respected centaurs, not many were willing to date one, but Raven had found love in Benton’s arms. He and his team of centaurs guarded the perimeter of the town. They worked at the king’s command, and she had to admit, Lostmere felt safer knowing they were on duty.
“I missed you, too.” He nudged her into the narrow alleyway that spoked off the north side of the square. “Did you see that dragon?”
She nodded. “I’m glad it didn’t come closer.”
“One day, we’ll have to face them.”
The loss of sunshine sent a shiver through her and she rubbed her arms.
He set his pack down, already morphing into his bipedal form. The long lines and muscles from his centaur parts shifted into human legs and body, still muscular, but not as bulky. He pulled on clothes from his pack, glancing around to make sure they were still alone in the alley.
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