Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  ‘Renila?’ Lucan murmured, his voice sluggish as he tried to focus on her. Renila frowned, peering into his eyes as she reached up and ran a light, probing hand over his head. The bloody lump on the back of his skull confirmed her suspicions. Suriya groaned and leaned heavily on her brother.

  ‘It’s alright, sweetheart,’ Renila said, squeezing their hands in reassurance. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘What happened?’ whispered Suriya.

  The girl shivered, despite the heat from the fire. Her teeth chattered, and her lips were tinged with blue. Renila held a worried hand to Suriya’s brow and flinched. The girl’s skin was ice-cold. Renila was on her feet and moving, shoving past the Lady as she sought dry clothing.

  The Lady frowned. ‘What is it?’

  Renila ignored her as she peeled the wet clothes off the girl, bundled her up in a blanket and carried her to the bed. She didn’t care what the Lady did to her. The children needed care. How could the woman not see that? What kind of mother neglected her own children? Without a word, she returned for Lucan and began stripping him out of his wet clothing – taking great care not to jostle his head any further. Once she was satisfied that they were both safely tucked up in their beds, she added a thick fur to each before stoking the fire.

  ‘Renila,’ the Lady growled dangerously.

  Renila’s temper snapped.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she snarled, rounding on their mother. ‘Don’t you dare presume to question me right now. I don’t know what in the name of the Gods you were doing when I came in here, but it wasn’t caring for your children.’

  The Lady bristled under that furious look. ‘I was questioning them about the events of this evening – where they’d been, precisely what had happened. It was important for me to know, Renila.’

  ‘Nothing is more important than their lives!’ she yelled. ‘Their health and well-being first – above all else, above even your own life! Every mother knows that!’

  ‘You dare—’

  ‘Yes, I dare,’ Renila continued. ‘Lucan is injured. Suriya is sick. Right now, they need rest, love and care. If you can’t provide any of those things, I suggest you leave and send me someone who can.’

  It was as if her blazing fury had taken form, but the Lady didn’t so much as blink as she turned and stalked from the room. Renila allowed herself one breath – just one – to calm herself, before she turned back to the twins.

  Lucan’s glowing moonstone eyes were sombre and unfocussed as he watched her. Suriya’s eyes were closed – sleeping or unconscious, Renila wasn’t sure. There was no colour in the girl’s cheeks, but at least her lips appeared less blue.

  ‘Is she going to be alright?’

  Renila sighed and began unlacing her own damp garments. At least her shift was still dry. ‘I don’t know. But she’s as strong-willed and stubborn as you are, so I’d bet the answer is yes.’

  ‘She’s far more stubborn than me,’ he said with a sleepy smile. He looked once more to his sister before closing his eyes as exhaustion claimed him.

  But Renila’s task was not yet done. Some instinct that she could not explain was screaming at her – just as it had before she’d forced her way into the room. Renila wrapped a blanket around her shoulders for modesty as she reached for the door. Sure enough, Farran was still standing guard outside. His gaze darkened at the sight of her, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Renila held up a hand to silence him.

  ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, I can’t bear the Captain. I just want my friend back – I just want Farran.’

  ‘I never stopped being your friend, Renila – I never stopped being Farran. But I am also the Captain, and I can’t disobey direct orders just because you don’t agree with them.’

  ‘I know things aren’t right between us, and I want to make them right,’ she murmured, ‘but right now, I need your help. Please.’

  Farran studied her for a moment and seemed to find what he was searching for. He nodded. ‘What do you need?’

  She told him. Her instincts were never wrong. He sighed and hesitated but nodded again, tucking the key she handed him inside his shirt. Certain they were alone, he dared to stroke her cheek with his fingertips, his thumb grazing her lips. Then he turned on his heel and was gone. Another time, Renila might have stood still, delighting in the ghost of his touch. But the children needed her.

  So she turned and closed the door behind her.

  It was almost dawn when she was woken by Suriya crying out in her sleep. The girl thrashed beneath the blankets, her foot catching Renila in the side as she struggled with her nightmares. Lucan woke at the sound of his sister’s distress and struggled out of the bed.

  ‘Suriya!’ he called. ‘Suriya, it’s alright. You’re alright, everything’s fine. You’re safe.’

  Golden eyes flew open, and the scream died in her throat. ‘Lucan?’

  ‘I’m here,’ he assured her with a relieved smile.

  Content they were both fine, Renila slid from the bed and padded across the room for the water jug, glancing to the settee by the fire where Erion was stirring.

  She was just grateful Farran hadn’t argued with her request. Instinct had told her she had to keep her son close. Precisely why still eluded her, but she knew that she could not let him out of her sight. She would guard him with her life if she had to.

  It had been not long after midnight when the Captain had appeared at the door with her sleeping son in his arms. Erion had slept on, exhausted, even as Farran helped her tuck him in spare blankets on the settee while the twins snored in their beds. Then the Captain had bowed and departed without a word.

  Renila poured a cup of water and handed it to Lucan, trusting the boy to help his sister for a moment as she turned her attention to her son. Storm-grey eyes watched her from over the coverlet. His brow was crinkled with confusion, but he was alert. He glanced around but said nothing. Renila smiled and brushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead.

  ‘I asked Captain Farran to bring you up here,’ she told him. ‘Lucan hit his head and Suriya is sick. I couldn’t leave them, but I needed to keep you close.’

  Erion frowned but nodded. ‘Are they alright now?’

  Renila glanced across the room. Suriya was drinking from the cup and colour had returned to her cheeks. The worst was over, hopefully. Though the girl would need more rest before she fully recovered. Lucan looked better too. Old Jayne had been and gone, doing what she could for Lucan’s head and leaving instructions so that Renila could continue to tend to it. Fortunately, the twins healed fast. They always had.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ she assured him.

  ‘Good.’

  Renila took a deep breath and held his gaze. ‘I said I wouldn’t ask, and you can hold me to that, Erion, but I need to know what happened to Suriya. Old Jayne wasn’t sure what was wrong with her …’

  Erion hesitated as he looked to his friends. ‘Suriya used magic,’ he breathed. Renila stilled. She forced a cool, impassive expression onto her face and waited for the rest. He continued in a breathless whisper. ‘We were in the stables after supper, and she … I don’t know … knew or sensed that Lucan was in danger. She was in such a panic. We took Storm – she led us right to him – and there was a Darkling. It was going to kill him, and Suriya just lashed out. I don’t know how to describe it. Fire just erupted out of her and burned the Darkling to ash.’

  He fell silent as he glanced across at the twins. There was no fear in his eyes, swirling from storm-grey to feline-green while he studied them. Suddenly struck by how much she loved her son, Renila leaned in and kissed his head. Any other boy would have run if they’d witnessed something like that. But not her son. Erion never judged, never presumed. The prejudices of teenage boys were alien to him. He was simply curious. And he was hers. What had she ever done to deserve such a wondrous child?

  She took a deep breath, watching Erion extricate himself from the blankets and join the twins in Suriya’s bed. The Lady had warned her that
the twins might manifest such powers as they approached adolescence. And although the changes had already begun, the Lady insisted that they did not yet need to know the truth. But Renila knew nothing of magic, save what was mentioned in her stories, so she was of little use.

  She glanced around and saw the two boys had sandwiched Suriya between them, pulling the furs up to their chins, and now all three were looking at Renila.

  Eyes of gold and amber and pearly blue gazed imploringly at her, and it occurred to her that, despite their differences, the three children were remarkably alike. No other child in this castle would have handled such traumatic events with their courage or composure. Neither Suriya nor Lucan had made any mention of the supernatural happenings in the Ravenswood. Had it not been Erion himself who told her, she might not have even believed the tale – they were so unruffled. Lucan’s eyes were bright and merry, his worry gone at the sight of Suriya’s rosy cheeks. And though Suriya herself was exhausted, there was no sign of the anguish Renila had seen in her eyes. It was only on Erion’s face that even the tiniest trace of their ordeal could be seen. And even then, only to one who knew him as well as she did.

  ‘Tell us a story, Renila,’ Lucan begged.

  ‘Please,’ Suriya added, her voice stronger already.

  Renila laughed and settled herself at the foot of the bed. ‘What story would you like to hear?’ she asked. Lucan opened his mouth to answer, but Erion cut him off.

  ‘Tell us one about a Phoenix – someone like Laviana or Kalielle.’

  Renila threw him an exasperated glance, but Lucan rolled his eyes.

  ‘Why do you want to hear that?’ he scoffed. ‘We’ve heard all of those before.’

  Erion looked incredulously at his friend, amber eyes swirling back to storm-grey as he held Lucan’s gaze. Then he frowned and looked away.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said with an indifferent shrug that Renila knew he didn’t mean. ‘Tell whatever you want.’

  Suriya elbowed her brother in the ribs.

  ‘What?’ he hissed defensively.

  ‘You always get to choose the story,’ she admonished. ‘Let someone else pick for once.’

  Lucan flushed and glanced surreptitiously at Erion. Renila followed his gaze and realised Erion wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation. His dark eyes were churning like the ocean as he stared out of the nearby window, brow furrowed.

  ‘Fine,’ sighed Lucan.

  Renila nodded in agreement and tore her gaze away from her son. ‘Light against the darkness is an ancient battle, a story as old as the earth itself. And there is no greater example of the light than the fire of the Phoenix, the last and greatest of all the Graced.

  ‘The first flicker of the darkness was born in the depths of the Rebellion. Sephiron’s heirs, and the heirs of those traitors who joined with him, born to their Darkling lovers. Blessed with their fathers’ magic but tainted and corrupted by the blood of their mothers. ‘Shade’ they were called – for they were little more than a pale shadow of their once glorious lineage.

  ‘Even after the Rebellion was over, and Sephiron was defeated, their numbers continued to grow. For Shade sire Shade, and their stolen magic will always breed true.

  ‘And then there came a time where the Shade rose up to conquer the earth. They were led by Sephiron’s five surviving children. The oldest four – the Princes Revian and Jaxon and the Princesses Elyria and Malia – had all served their father’s cause and fought at his side whenever he asked. But it was not until after Sephiron was defeated that his youngest heir came forward. Together, Sephiron’s heirs led the Shade to victory. Together, they brought the mighty Graced low. Together, they ushered in the dawn of the Dark Days.

  ‘The Immortal soldiers who had survived the Rebellion turned away, for they were tired of war and ruin. But the Graced were not so easily cowed – the Phoenix least of all. Their magic is powerful, more potent than any other Graced bloodline, but it is not a power to be wielded. They cannot change their form, like Dragons, nor control minds, like Unicorns. They cannot control the elements, as the Elves do. Their gift is simple. Immortality. Not like the Darklings who steal life to defy death, nor like their Immortal creators who cannot be touched by its hand. But when they fall, they rise once more from the ashes of their funeral pyre.

  ‘Blessed as they were, they feared no evil – valuing courage and honour above all else. They shared their lands with the mighty firebirds, but rather than slaying the legendary beasts, they believed the true test of valour was instead to ride them. During the Rebellion, they flew their flaming mounts into battle, dying and rising side by side. And after Sephiron’s defeat, when his heirs rose up to claim the world for themselves, still, the mighty Phoenix did not yield. Many of the greatest Graced warriors have hailed from that proud and noble bloodline, but few are more revered than Kalielle Half-Elven.

  ‘Heir to Laviana, the Flame of Elucion, she was born and raised in secret, hidden and protected from all who would seek to harm her. She was not alone in her seclusion, concealed as she was with the Elf-Queen’s heir, Diathor, and the future Lady of Revalla, Kylar. For their own protection, they were kept ignorant of their heritage, as the longer they went without touching the magic in their blood, the longer they could remain hidden.

  ‘But that kind of power cannot be contained forever, and the time came when they could hide no longer. Graced children struggle to control their magic at the best of times, but Kalielle was untaught and unaware of her bloodlines. Her magic took on a life of its own, acting purely on instinct and emotion. But like sharks scenting blood in the water, the Shade can sniff out magic from far and wide.

  ‘So Kalielle, Diathor and Kylar sought the legendary Elf-Queen Benella, who had survived the worst of the Dark Days, hidden behind the great walls of her city. They joined with her forces as she readied for war. Of Sephiron’s heirs, only Malia and his youngest son remained, their siblings long since slain by Laviana and others. Desperate to stamp out the last smouldering embers of resistance, Princess Malia brought the full force of her might down upon them.

  ‘The battle raged for days, with casualties beyond count, Benella herself amongst the fallen. The problem was not the Darkling hordes – after all, the sole purpose of the Graced is to destroy Darklings – but their Shade masters. Sephiron’s heirs were too powerful. That only two remained was down more to chance than any scheme, and the Graced could no longer afford to wait for fate to guide the way.

  ‘So Kalielle determined to forge her own path. She knew she lacked the power to defeat Malia alone. But unable to bear the thought of endangering others, she found another way to remove the threat the Shade Princess posed. Fighting her way across the battlefield, she sought her enemy. By sheer luck, Malia’s back was to her. Kalielle raised her sword, but rather than bringing it down upon her foe, she instead turned the blade on herself. She ended her own life … and loosed the power of her Rising.’

  ‘Malia was consumed by the magic, and when the firestorm was over, there was naught left of the Shade Princess but ashes and dust. Of all Sephiron’s heirs, only the youngest Prince remained. Kalielle was whole once more, though her power was spent. But rather than seeking to avenge his sister’s death, the Prince laid down his arms and pulled back his forces. He retreated back to the dark fortress, Dar Kual, and took up his father’s throne and crown, becoming the Shade King – who still reigns to this day.’

  She glanced up at the children. The twins’ eyes were wide with wonder, as they always were after a story – no matter how many times they had heard it. But Erion was frowning, staring into space. She could almost see his thought process as he tried to connect her story to what he’d seen in the woods.

  Renila smiled sadly. She hadn’t the heart to tell him it was a fairy tale. There was some magic in the world, but it was nothing like the vast power in her stories. True, the Lady had said that the twins carried some hint of magic, but it was a remnant of something ancient. They weren’t Graced. They
couldn’t be. The Graced didn’t exist.

  She paused as a thought struck her …

  Darklings were real. Could that not also mean that the Graced were real?

  Her mind became sluggish, and she blinked stupidly. The Graced were dead and gone, she told herself when the fog cleared.

  But how could that be, if they were just a story?

  The cloud of confusion descended again. None of it was real, she reminded herself.

  But it was, a small voice argued. Darklings are a real threat, and the cities in the stories exist. Even the shape of the world matches …

  No. They were legends, stories made up to explain naturally occurring phenomena that couldn’t be explained by facts.

  But—

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the door banged open, and an icy wind swirled into the room, making the fire stutter in the hearth. Renila looked round as a familiar figure stormed into the room.

  The Lady was in a furious temper. Renila flinched from those frightening eyes that glittered with the light of a billion stars as the Lady took in the scene. Relief seemed to flicker there when she registered the rosy tint to Suriya’s cheeks and the bright gleam in Lucan’s eyes. But then her gaze fell on Erion, and she stilled, with all the deadly grace of a wolf eyeing its next meal.

  Instinct had Renila on her feet and placing her body between Erion and the Lady before she’d even registered the hatred thrumming around her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Lady got there first.

  ‘I warned you about filling their heads with nonsense,’ she breathed, her hands clenched into fists.

  ‘It’s just a sto—’ Lucan began.

  ‘Silence,’ the Lady snapped, cutting him off. ‘You told me you wanted to be treated like adults, and yet you still insist on listening to fairy tales like little children.’

  ‘It was Erion who asked to hear it,’ Lucan grumbled under his breath, sulking from the admonishment. Suriya elbowed him in the ribs, but it was too late.