Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  What had happened in Elucion remained a mystery. The Shade King alone had confronted the Phoenix and their mighty firebirds. Only two had escaped, and of those two only one remained. Arian. Kalielle’s ward. The last Phoenix in existence. She’d never spoken of what she’d witnessed. Less than a week later, Kalielle had killed herself rather than be taken prisoner by the monster that had caused her so much pain.

  The torrent of her nightmares, her memories, stopped as Ylain entered, flanked by Talize and Pria. They ignored Dell as they lunged for their prey, drinking deeply.

  Keriath kept singing.

  The song Arian had written to commemorate the fallen was full of sorrow, but there was hope there as well. For the Phoenix knew best of all that only by falling might one rise again. They alone knew no fear of death; they believed it was their faith that gave them power over it. As a child, Arian believed that those she’d lost might come back to her. Even now that she knew better, she still lived by the hope she’d written into that song.

  For they were the Rising. They were the legacy, the survivors: the children of the fallen. There was no Phoenix blood in Keriath’s veins as far as she knew, but she’d been raised amongst them. She shared their beliefs – that faith alone had its own power, so long as it was strong enough.

  ‘For glory does not mean never falling,’ breathed Keriath, her strength failing as she finished the song. ‘You have seen our descent, now watch us rise.’ Ylain flinched at the words. Fear sparked in her eyes, and she snapped her fingers, ordering both Talize and Pria from the room. They complained bitterly, but she would not yield.

  Once they were gone, she spoke to the guards. ‘Nobody gets back in here without my say so, understand?’ They nodded. ‘Good. Watch her closely. I fear we might have underestimated our prize.’

  Keriath barely noticed the exchange, lost once more in the haze of delirium.

  Dell hovered for the days that followed, listening to her sing of ancient battles and star-crossed lovers. Sometimes he lingered by the door, and Keriath would talk in hushed whispers, reminiscing in the darkness, stories of her heritage and the legacy she owed to those who came before. They were more than tales to bolster her faith: they were truth. Stories of real people. Her ancestors, who triumphed no matter how far they fell.

  Ylain returned, but she made no move to feed. Instead, she stood in the doorway and eyed her prisoner cautiously. ‘I fear I have been a fool,’ she admitted.

  ‘You will hear no argument from me,’ Keriath whispered.

  ‘There is far more to you than we realised, isn’t there?’

  Keriath offered a bitter smile. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Ylain nodded, understanding that there were some secrets her prisoner would never yield. Besides, they had no power over her anymore. They’d done their worst. And she was still here.

  ‘The thing is,’ the Queen murmured, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, ‘that even this far inside the Barren Lands, we hear the Old Tales. We know who survived the Fall. I haven’t come across many of Elucion’s children in my time, but I know a Phoenix proverb when I hear one. And barring one exception, the Phoenix are all dead and gone. So either you keep company with legends, or you heard it before the Fall. Either way, you’re no child of Taelyr’s. What would Arian of Elucion have to do with the bastard offspring of some Revallan urchin?’

  Keriath was quiet for a long time, but she sighed in defeat. ‘I cannot fault your logic,’ she conceded.

  Ylain’s eyes widened.

  ‘You must truly despise him, if you would suffer all this rather than admit your birthright,’ she whispered in wonder.

  ‘He killed my mother.’

  Ylain shook her head in frustration. ‘Jenia killed the Lady Kylar.’

  ‘On his orders. And don’t think I would forget your part in it all. We all saw what you did to Ciaron.’

  Ylain smirked, but there was a glimmer of fear in her blood-red eyes. ‘We did what we had to. Anyway, what difference would the fate of Ciaron make to you?’

  ‘You forget – Lady Kylar hailed from more than one noble line.’ Keriath sighed, unable to rouse herself to anger. ‘I bore the dragon-marks, before Jenia’s Hunt tore me apart.’

  The Queen fell silent for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was weary with regret. ‘I wish you’d told me. I would have spared you Talize and Pria at least.’

  ‘How very generous of you,’ Keriath muttered, closing her eyes.

  ‘You will pray for my generosity girl, for now I can spare you nothing,’ Ylain snarled, advancing on her.

  Keriath opened her eyes and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There is a Shade in my throne room demanding your release,’ growled the Queen. ‘He claims he’s here on your father’s behalf—’

  ‘He’s not my father,’ Keriath said.

  Ylain gaped at her. ‘I think you’re missing the point. Prince Mazron’s sister is in open conflict with the King – there’s no way on this earth that he’s here to take you back to Elucion. I don’t even know how he found out about you. But there is nothing I can do to stop him from taking you, whatever his reasons.’

  ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’ Keriath snapped, stung into irritation by the Queen’s tone.

  ‘There is nothing any of us can do about it, child,’ the Queen sighed. ‘I came to warn you. Come now, he is waiting.’

  She snapped her fingers, and the door opened as the guards answered her summons. They unchained Keriath, but it was dread, not hope, that settled in her stomach at the sensation. She was far too weak to walk, let alone stand, so they supported her, one on each side, and half-dragged her from the room. She winced as the light from the torches burned at her eyes, but it was nothing compared to what she’d already endured. As they ascended out of the Core and back into the Pits, the weight of the mountain’s dark magic eased, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  They carried her back through the labyrinthine corridors up to the throne room. And though each step they took should have made her feel a little lighter, pure terror closed its fist around her heart.

  Ylain paused at the door, as if offering her a moment to compose herself. The look the Queen afforded her was full of pity, but there was also a glimmer of respect sparked, Keriath thought, by the knowledge that all they’d done had not destroyed their prisoner – perhaps Keriath would also survive whatever this Shade had planned.

  ‘Be strong,’ she murmured. Then she turned and motioned to the guards to open the doors, and Keriath realised that she could no longer remember the words to the song.

  Beyond, pale eyes greeted her, and the earth lurched beneath her feet as fear claimed her. A tall frame, with lean limbs and a handsome face … and the mark of the star upon his brow. She heaved against the hands holding her as she fought to get away from him. His face split in an evil smile, flashing gleaming white teeth in her direction.

  ‘Hello Keriath,’ he purred.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Renila groaned as her eyes flickered open, the bright sunlight filtering down through the pines stabbing at them like a hot knife. She tried to sit up, but the world tipped and rolled. Her head could have been made of solid lead the way her neck and shoulders protested at taking its weight. Her stomach heaved, and she forced herself to roll onto her side so she wouldn’t choke.

  Strong but gentle hands gathered her hair back while she vomited on the forest floor, rubbing her back as her body convulsed. Callused fingers scraped her neck and shoulder, massaging the aching muscles there while she trembled. She was too weak to shy away from that touch, and it was so calming she found she didn’t want to anyway.

  When she was done, those same hands eased her back down and smoothed her hair back from her face in a loving caress. She steeled herself against the inevitable pain and cracked her eyes open to look up at her saviour. Alvar knelt beside her, his purple-grey eyes heavy with worry, but he smiled to see her awake.

 
‘Glad to see you’re back with us,’ he murmured. ‘You had me worried there for a bit.’ Renila opened her mouth to speak, but her lips cracked and bled, and her throat was too parched to make a sound. Alvar winced and reached for the water skin, lifting her head so she could drink.

  ‘What happened?’ she gasped. Her throat was scorched, and her chest burned as though she’d been breathing smoke. A peculiar sense of familiarity made her shiver – she was sure this had happened before, but she had no memory of it.

  An ember flaring. Grief and sorrow driven out by wrath and vengeance. The ember sparking. Bloodlust rising. The spark catching. Fury raging in her veins, blazing through her like wildfire. That wrath taking form, exploding out of her as flames, licking along her skin. Her hair shifting and curling in the rising heat, surrounding her face in a flickering halo of scarlet waves. Her voice crackling with the power of the inferno within.

  She shook her head, trying to clear the images flicking through her mind, and glanced down. Someone – presumably Alvar – had dressed her in a tunic and leggings that she was certain she’d never seen before. They were made of fine material, much finer than anything she could afford, yet it was still tough and warm enough for travelling. And they fitted her perfectly. She frowned and looked to him for answers.

  Alvar sighed and sat back, leaning against the thick trunk of a pine. ‘Darklings found the castle – broke through the wards. We held long enough to give most time to escape, but there were too many.’

  ‘Suriya? Lucan?’ she asked.

  ‘They made it out,’ Alvar assured her. ‘The Hunt is after us, so I think they’ll be alright. Gaelan is taking them to my father. They’ll be safe with him.’

  Renila wanted to ask about this rare glimpse into the mysterious Lord’s life, but another memory struck her.

  ‘Farran is dead.’

  It wasn’t a question.

  Alvar bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, Renila. I know you cared for him.’

  Grief threatened to crush her, but the tears would not come. Something was nagging at her memory, something more important than Farran, something that made fear pulse through her veins and dread sit like a dead weight in her stomach.

  ‘Erion,’ she whispered, her eyes wild. She glanced around, ignoring the nausea that rose in response to the movement, ignoring the pain that threatened to shatter her skull. ‘Where is Erion?’ Alvar’s hands gripped her shoulders and held her still.

  ‘Renila,’ he said, his voice heavy with warning, ‘I need you to calm down.’

  ‘Tell me where my son is!’ she demanded, her cheeks heating. Alvar winced and leaned back from the sudden warmth radiating off her, but he held on.

  ‘Calm down. Now,’ he ordered.

  ‘Tell me where my son is!’ she shrieked, thrashing in his grip. But his fingers dug into her skin, and he shook her.

  ‘Get it under control, or I swear by Athair, I will make you forget you ever had a son!’ he snapped. Renila went limp, panting, fear and wrath searing her heart. His temper steadied, and he loosened his grasp, but he held her gaze. ‘Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s it,’ he said, releasing her as she calmed. But it was a lethal calm that settled about her shoulders as she fixed him with eyes that burned slowly like smouldering embers.

  ‘Where. Is. My. Son?’ she said, punctuating each word with a pointed breath. There was a muscle leaping in Alvar’s jaw, but his voice was steady when he finally answered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.

  ‘Is he even still alive?’

  Alvar huffed a frustrated sigh. ‘I don’t know that either.’

  ‘What do you know?’ she snarled, her fingers itching to slap him.

  His eyes flared at the threat. ‘Calm down.’

  ‘Stop telling me to calm down and tell me what the fuck happened,’ she said. Alvar closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. She could see his body trembling with the effort of controlling himself.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘What’s the last thing you remember?’

  ‘We were trapped … in a library?’

  His gaze grew dark at the mention of that room. ‘Farran fell fighting three Darklings. He took two with him, but there was one left …’

  ‘Erion – he killed it. I tried to get to him …’ She trailed off as her memory stuttered.

  ‘Erion sealed you in—’ he began.

  ‘I couldn’t stop them,’ she whispered, eyes widening with horror as the memories came crashing back.

  Alvar nodded. ‘The Shade was very strong. There are few who could face one and live to tell the tale.’

  But Renila didn’t care.

  ‘You let it escape with my son,’ she said.

  Alvar scowled. ‘There was nothing I could do to stop the Shade. It’s called Transference – the way it appeared and disappeared, as if drawn out of thin air. It’s a power that’s beyond me now, and I would have needed to know where he was going to follow.’

  ‘What are you?’ she breathed.

  Alvar flinched from the fear in her voice, his beautiful eyes dark with sorrow.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ he said, getting to his feet and busying himself with the supplies. Renila was quiet for a long time, but finally, she found the words.

  ‘I like stories,’ she whispered. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled at the gentleness of her voice. ‘We have to get him back,’ she begged. ‘Please, I’ll do anything. Just help me get him back.’

  ‘We will. I promise.’ Her shoulders sagged with relief. Then his eyes snapped to the shadows of the trees, to the endless darkness that surrounded them. ‘We’ve lingered here too long. The Huntress is tracking us with what’s left of her Hunt. She’ll want you dead for what you did to the rest of it. We need to keep moving.’

  Renila tried not to cry out in agony as Alvar helped her to her feet and lifted her into the saddle, but she couldn’t stop the pained wince. His tentative smile was apologetic as he climbed up behind her, wrapping a powerful arm around her waist while the other took the reins.

  The warmth of his body at her back made her feel safe in a way she could not explain. But the familiarity with which he pressed his thighs against her made her cheeks flame with embarrassment. She tried to edge forward, to create some distance between them, but he held her tight against his broad chest.

  ‘What’s his name?’ she asked, stroking the stallion’s shimmering white mane. It was as soft as silk, like running her hands through a cold mountain stream. He was big, and strong enough to carry them both, pawing at the ground with impatience.

  ‘Starfyre,’ he answered, a peculiar note of regret in his voice. Renila felt herself drifting off, a bone-deep tiredness making her eyelids droop. ‘Sleep, Renila,’ Alvar whispered in her ear as he tapped his heels to the stallion’s flanks. ‘Sleep while you can. I will watch over you. I will keep you safe.’

  She felt his lips brush her hair and then all she knew was darkness.

  She woke near midday, the pounding in her head gone. So too was the nausea, chased away by the rolling gait of Starfyre’s near-silent canter. As she stirred, Alvar loosened his hold on her but kept her close.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he murmured in her ear.

  ‘Better,’ she whispered, somehow knowing she needed to keep her voice down. Then she realised why she had woken – Alvar’s body was taut with readiness, as though he expected an attack at any moment.

  ‘Good,’ was all he said. He twitched on Starfyre’s reins, slowing the stallion to a cautious walk. Renila touched the hand splayed across her stomach.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she breathed, her lips barely moving.

  ‘Darkling,’ he muttered in response. ‘Just the one, but it’s close.’

  ‘What do we do?’ she asked, looking up at him.

  His lips twisted into a sardonic smile, and he winked at her. ‘Wait for it to get closer.’

  Then his eyes snapped up, looking to his left. He sw
ore, pulling them both out of the saddle as an arrow buzzed over them, breaking her fall with his own body. He huffed as her weight forced the air from his lungs, but he was on his feet in a flash, sword drawn.

  Renila moved to follow him, but Starfyre herded her back, keeping his massive body between her and the Darkling. It was like the stallion knew his master’s wishes without having to be told. She peered over his broad back and watched Alvar stalk into the shadows after the Darkling. Renila blinked. He moved fast. Too fast. No mortal could move that fast.

  There was a screech of terror, the whistle of a blade cutting through air, then the sickening crunch as it sliced through flesh and bone. Alvar appeared a moment later, smiling darkly to himself as he wiped the monster’s blood from his sword with a strip of material no doubt torn from its corpse. Starfyre nickered at the sight of his master, and Alvar touched his nose in thanks.

  ‘How did you know it was there?’ Renila asked, staring at him in confusion and wonder.

  Alvar shrugged. ‘I heard it.’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ she said, frowning. He grinned as he lifted her with ease, and she flinched as she noticed just how strong he was. She was far from heavy, but he lifted her so smoothly she might as well have weighed nothing. He noticed her eyes widen in shock, and his grin faded.

  ‘I’m not mortal, Renila,’ he admitted.

  ‘You’re one of the Graced?’ she breathed, looking down at his beautiful face and trying not to get lost in those thunderstorm eyes.

  But Alvar shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Once, a long time ago, I was something like them. But now I’m just … a shadow.’

  Renila tried not to recoil, but when Alvar’s eyes glittered with unshed tears, she knew she had failed. At least he had the decency to leave space between them once he joined her in the saddle. He could no doubt sense her discomfort and unease, the same way he’d sensed that Darkling, using whatever unnatural gifts had been given to him.