by C. A. McHugh
Raimel had just tucked it into his pocket when Aerrin remembered the scar on the man’s hand. “Do I need to check to make sure nothing else is missing?”
“Your Majesty, if I wanted to rob you blind, I would’ve done it months ago. Besides, my talents lie elsewhere.”
At this point, Aerrin knew better than to ask.
Raimel paused and looked around the room, his expression guilty as he reached into his jerkin. Aerrin half expected him to hand over a handful of jewels he’d pilfered, but instead, he pulled out an amulet hanging on a leather string. “We took this off a man who was following you this afternoon.”
Aerrin reached for the amulet with a shaking hand. It was made of obsidian with the picture of a raven plucking the eyes out of a skull carved into its surface.
Just like the one the assassin in the Temple of Mariliel had worn months ago.
He dropped it as if it were on fire and wiped his hand on his clothes. He wanted nothing more than to erase the memory of that amulet against his skin. “Another demon?”
Something in the way Raimel flinched told him he was only hearing half of the story.
“There was something different about this one, wasn’t there?”
Raimel met his gaze and retrieved the amulet. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I’m the king. It’s my duty to know.”
“Then don’t hide under the covers and blame me for your nightmares, Your Majesty.” Raimel’s eyes flashed red in the candlelight as he dangled the amulet in front of Aerrin. “We’re up against something more than just a madman with a few apprentices and an army of stupid demons. The man who tried to kill you today was all human, but he had somehow gained demonic abilities.”
A chill coursed through Aerrin’s body, and he rubbed his arms to drive it away. “How is that possible?”
“What exactly do you know about the man who wants you dead?”
Aerrin paused. He’d been told the stories of his parents’ death for as long as he could remember, but the stories always ended with his uncle Rythis sacrificing his own life to defeat the Raven Bringer. Bit by bit, the happy ending had been ripped away from him, and now he was left to sift out clues from the bedtime story. “Not much,” he admitted.
“Then let me tell you what I know.” Raimel set the candle down, but stood as still as a high priest as he spoke. “The Raven Bringer is a mortal man who gained his powers by selling his soul to Zelquis. That was how he gained the abilities of demons. That is how he gained the power to summon and control them at will. And that is why he has been so difficult to destroy. He has the god of demons and undead supporting him, and if I were you, I’d be in the Temple of Mariliel offering every damn thing I could for her intervention.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Aerrin replied. It was a better explanation than accepting Raimel’s conspiracies as truth.
“Am I?” Once again, his eyes flashed in the candlelight. “Out of all of us, I’m the one who’s spent the most time in his company. Out of all of us, I’ve seen what he is and what he is capable of doing. Out of all of us, I’m the only one who’s been inside his inner fortress and lived to tell about it. So before you dismiss me as exaggerating, perhaps you’d better brush up on your history and ask those of us who were there the first time.”
“Then if you know so much, who is he?” Aerrin crawled out of bed and stood almost chest to chest with the other man. “Where is he?”
“If I knew the answers to those questions, do you think I’d be wasting my time trying to give you the education you obviously need?”
Aerrin tried to stare him down, but the man wouldn’t budge.
Maybe there was some truth to his tale.
“So what you’re trying to say is that the Raven Bringer is convincing other men to sell their souls to Zelquis?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps he’s found a way to bless them with those abilities. I can’t say since the Raven Bringer’s apprentice destroyed the evidence before I had a chance to fully examine him.”
Raimel turned to walk away, but Aerrin halted him. “You have what you need, but I could use that amulet when I meet with the Privy Council tomorrow. It might be the evidence I need to convince them to act.”
“Ceryst and I have some other uses for it at the moment.”
“Such as?”
“How am I to know what goes on in that man’s head?” He opened the hidden door in the wall. “I just do as I’m told.”
But the nervous hitch in his voice told Aerrin he was lying. “And what if I order you to give me the amulet?”
“No disrespect intended, Aerrin, but I fear the wrath of Ceryst a bit more than I do yours. We’ll hand it over when we’re finished. And now, I think it’s time I disappear.”
Before Aerrin could blink, Raimel was gone, leaving him cursing his stupidity.
He had evidence in his hands. And he’d let a thief escape with it.
Chapter 17
Aerrin took a deep breath and nodded to the guards to open the door. All ten members of the Privy Council sat around the table, waiting for him. Even his uncle Altos had managed to come, albeit with red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair. They all waited in silence, watching him, probably wondering why he had called this meeting on his birthday, of all days.
Aerrin marched slowly to his chair, meeting each member’s eyes as he passed. As he sat in the mini-throne at the end, he wondered how he should begin this meeting. Finally, he blurted out, “The Raven Bringer is alive, and he’s attacking people all over the kingdom.”
Their expressions ran the gamut of emotions. Lord Castillion, the Duke of Castadillia, laughed. Lord McCoolin, the Duke of Highmounte, called him a fool. The Lord Chamberlain merely gasped. Even his uncle only became more alert. Only Lady Sirona Giltland and Master Binnius seemed to take him seriously.
He knew Master Binnius would be on his side, but he was not expecting Lady Sirona’s reaction. She gripped the edge of the table so tightly, her fingers turned as white as her colorless face. Her voice, barely above a whisper, shook as she asked, “What evidence do you have to support this?”
Lord Castillion stopped laughing. “You’re not actually taking him seriously, are you, Sirona?”
She narrowed her icy blue eyes with contempt. “Shut up, you overstuffed pincushion! You don’t have the Isle of Spirits floating off your coast. Let His Majesty continue.”
“I’ve sent a few trusted men to follow up on the recent rumors of demon and undead activity throughout the kingdom. They’ve confirmed that there have been demon attacks made in Sauvegny, Edensdowne, and Highmounte.”
“I don’t believe such rubbish,” the Duke of Sauvegny sputtered, sitting up straighter in his chair. The hostility from the civil war between Aerrin’s father and the former Duke of Sauvegny—the current duke’s brother—spilled out into his rebuke. “If there were demons attacking people in my duchy, don’t you think I would know?”
“It all depends. You spend so much of the year here in Dromore. When was the last time you visited Tenby?” Aerrin asked coolly.
A general hum filled the room. Altos mouthed, “Are you crazy?” But Aerrin ignored him. He was not going to back down.
Across the table, Master Binnius cleared his throat loud enough to silence the others. “His Majesty has spoken to me on several occasions about this matter, and I agree with him completely. I know the men he sent to investigate, and I will vouch that they are both honest, capable, and extremely knowledgeable on this subject. And as for matters in Sauvegny, I can personally confirm the deaths of several individuals who can be undeniably linked to the Raven Bringer based on the marks carved into their foreheads. These are more than mere rumors, my lords and lady. The Raven Bringer lives, and he is mounting another attack on this kingdom.”
Several minutes passed where only the sound of their breaths could be heard.
At last, the Lord Chamberlain hesitantly raised his hand to speak. “Should we reissue rewards for the capture or death
of Sir Ceryst of Klone?”
“No,” Aerrin replied firmly.
“B-but Y-your Majesty, he is the Raven Bringer.”
“He is not the Raven Bringer.”
“Then explain why he was found hovering over the slain bodies of your dear parents and was about to slaughter you when the Royal Guard entered the throne room?” Lady Sirona leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Master Binnius pressed his fingers together in front of his chin. “You forget, Sirona, that I was in the room before the Royal Guard, and I still stand by my original testimony that Sir Ceryst was innocent. I saw the Raven Bringer flee the scene. They are not the same person. As the Knight Protector, Sir Ceryst was more grieved by the death of their Majesties than anyone else in this room. King Brendon had ordered him to save then-Prince Aerrin, and he was following the king’s orders. Instead of accusing him of the murders for which he is clearly innocent, perhaps we should’ve thanked him for saving the life of our current king.”
The General of the Royal Guard, Lord Paulish, jumped to his feet. “By letting the king he was sworn to protect die? That is, of course, if he didn’t slay King Brendon himself.”
The Duke of Highmounte’s face reminded Aerrin of a bloated purplish melon. “Master Binnius, all the evidence points in his direction. How can you insist Sir Ceryst is innocent? And now you expect us to believe this hogswallow about the Raven Bringer still being alive? I was at Innishmore with Prince Rythis. I saw him kill the Raven Bringer. Once again, you have shown yourself to be a demented old man who has now convinced our king into believing your paranoid delusions!”
“Silence, Highmounte,” Aerrin ordered.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but you haven’t had to listen to this ancient fool for the number of years that I have,” Lord McCoolin continued. “At times I wonder if he is fit to be Headmaster of the Academy.”
The thin and pale Lord Moorghan timidly raised his hand. As the newest member of the Privy Council, he glanced around the table to make sure the others wouldn’t interrupt him before he spoke. “A question, please, Your Majesty. Unlike my other lords here, I was not present on this council fifteen years ago, so I am still undecided on the matter. I am very eager to learn what evidence you have.”
Once again, the weight of their stares fell upon Aerrin. He was thankful to be sitting because he was sure his knees would be knocking against each other if he’d been standing. “The murder Master Binnius referred to earlier was similar to the other deaths that have been reported to me across the kingdom. The victims were all found dead with no marks on their body other than the brand of the Raven Bringer burned on their foreheads.”
“And did you see this body?” Sirona remained very pale as she waited for his reply.
“No, he did not, but I have,” Binnius answered. “And I regret to report that there has been another victim who died in a similar manner on the other side of the Great Divide.”
Lord de Sauvegny stood so quickly, his chair crashed to the floor. “Now I know you’re making things up. No one can cross the Great Divide, especially not a man who’s been dead for fifteen years.”
Binnius remained calm and continued to maintain eye contact with the irate Duke of Sauvegny. “It doesn’t change the fact there are murders being carried out in the same ritualistic fashion as before.”
“But the Great Divide is completely impassable,” Sauvegny argued. “Do you expect us to believe the Great Divide is now open for people to move freely back and forth between Elgeus and Oudesta? If so, then we have bigger things to worry about than this rumored return of a dead man.”
Lord McCoolin angrily paced the length of the table. “It sounds like his usual load of crap to me, Arthur.”
Aerrin was about to open his mouth and state it was possible to cross the Great Divide and that there was a citizen of Oudesta in the palace this very moment, but he caught himself before he did. Seroney had already taught him so much. He’d be cruel to betray her.
He had to say something, though. This meeting was spinning out of control. “It still doesn’t change the fact that they’d been branded by the Raven Bringer.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t someone trying to imitate him?” Lady Sirona countered, keeping her voice to a respectable volume, even if she was questioning the evidence.
Aerrin shook his head. “Combined with the circumstances of the death and the confirmed reports of demons in the area, I have every reason to believe this is the real thing. What’s more, I received word last night that one of the Raven Bringer’s assassins was killed yesterday afternoon when I arrived in the city. He was wearing an amulet with his symbol. I held it in my own hands. And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen that emblem. It was the same one worn by the assassin who tried to kill me nine months ago during the Cauldron Lighting.”
The hum returned as the members of the Privy Council discussed this newest revelation among themselves. Lady Sirona rapped her bony knuckles on the table and called them to order. “Lord Paulish, have you heard anything of this?”
“I have not.”
She turned to Aerrin. “Where is this amulet, You Majesty?”
Aerrin’s face grew warm. He silently cursed Raimel for not giving him the amulet when he asked for it. “The man who showed it to me is using it at the moment to track down other possible servants of the Raven Bringer in the city.”
Lord McCoolin snorted, earning a scathing glance from Lady Sirona before she spoke. “Without evidence, these accusations are difficult to believe. However, seeing as it is your birthday, perhaps we should scour the city and double His Majesty’s guard. We would hate for anything to happen to King Aerrin during his celebration. Lord Paulish?”
“I will see that it is done, Lady Giltland,” the captain of the Royal Guard replied with a quick bow.
Sirona gave Aerrin a queenly smile that made him want to puke. “Is this all, Your Majesty, or do you have more to add?”
Frustration gnawed at the foundations of his composure. Wasn’t his evidence enough to raise the alarm? How could they stand there in disbelief and call Master Binnius demented or try to blame Ceryst once again? Were they blind? Or were they refusing to hear the truth because it was too painful, as Raimel had suggested?
He watched his uncle for a moment, who stared blankly at the table and said nothing. He then studied the other members of the Privy Council. Master Binnius nodded in encouragement. Lady Sirona leaned forward, waiting for his response. Lord de Sauvegny watched from heavily hooded eyes, skepticism etched in the folds of his flabby face. Lord McCoolin still stomped from one end of the table to the other. Lord Moorghan and the Lord Chamberlain whispered to each other. Lord Paulish polished his brooch. Lord Vinopolis poured another glass from his nearly empty bottle of wine, and Lord Castillion twirled the quill in his hand.
The heaviness of defeat draped over him. “I have no other evidence at the moment.”
“Good! Now we can end this nonsense and enjoy the day’s festivities.” Lord McCoolin clapped his hand on the Duke of Sauvegny’s shoulder. “Are you coming, Arthur?”
Lord McCoolin’s hand had barely touched the door when Aerrin snapped, “Remember, as members of the Privy Council, we are supposed to act in the best interest of the kingdom and its citizens, and yet so many of you are willing to turn your back on evidence that says the Raven Bringer has returned.”
Lord McCoolin narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but until I see cold, hard evidence that the Raven Bringer is still alive, I believe this to be nothing more than rumors and the ramblings of an old man.”
Sparks of blue light snapped from Master Binnius’s fingers for a second before he resumed his calm demeanor.
“Calm down, Highmounte.” Lady Sirona’s tone left little room for argument. “His Majesty has a reason to be concerned, as there may be some truth to these rumors. Do any of you remember the dark days of the Raven Bringer and the unusual events that occurred just before he attacked Dromore? Have y
ou forgotten the blizzard a few months ago?”
More murmurs from the Privy Council.
“I suggest we form our own investigational committee and delve deeper into these rumors,” she continued. “Lord Chamberlain, please see that letters are sent to troops stationed in each of the duchies, asking them to keep an eye out for anything unusual. In the meantime, Lord Paulish, you will make sure everything is secure here in Dromore. Can everyone agree to that?”
One by one, the members of the Privy Council nodded.
The Duke of Highmounte wiped his boots as though he just stepped in a pile of dung. “I hope this satisfies Your Majesty. I’m done with this nonsense for the day. Arthur, let’s get ourselves a pint of ale, shall we?”
Lord McCoolin held the door open for the waddling Duke of Sauvegny, and the other members of the council filed out after them. Only Lady Sirona, Master Binnius, and Prince Altos remained with Aerrin.
Sirona stood and went to Aerrin, placing one of her long, thin hands on his shoulders. “We’ll look into the matter for you, Your Majesty. Have no worries. Why don’t you cheer up and enjoy the festivities that have been planned in honor of your birthday?”
“Leave him alone, Sirona.” Altos reached for what was left in Lord Vinopolis’s bottle of wine. “He doesn’t need you consoling him as if he just skinned his knee.”
“Well, at least I convinced the council to look into the matter rather than dismissing it completely. Besides, I didn’t hear anything from you.”
Altos stood and carried the bottle with him. “You haven’t lost two brothers to that fiend. Now that there’s a chance he could be back, I’m a bit worried about my own life, as well as my nephew’s. It seems the Raven Bringer has a certain fondness for my family, in case you haven’t noticed.” He moved to the door. “I’ll see you later, Aerrin.”
Sirona opened her mouth to speak, but Master Binnius cut her off. “That is enough, Sirona. We have done the best we can, and now it’s up to the committee to convince the other members of the Privy Council.”