Raven's Wings

by Colin Lindsay

  “I’m told that happens all the time. Nothing to worry about.” Skye retired to his hammock and slept curled around his precious journal.

  The next day, Dayl wasn’t quite up to returning to the rigging, so he spent the day working in the galley, dicing the potatoes that Skye peeled. “We make a hell of a team,” he joked.

  Skye lugged his bucket up on deck. It was unusually crowded on deck, so Skye asked a deckhand, “What’s up?”

  “It’s tricky maneuvering through the Narrows. The First Mate wants us all at the ready.”

  Skye noted this and sat down in his usual spot. The ship had just entered the Narrows when shouting came from the bow. Skye looked up to see the mast of another vessel bearing down on theirs.

  “Pirates!” yelled the Quartermaster. “To arms!” Sailors pulled lids off barrels and passed around rusty swords. Skye had seen fighting men before, and these sailors were not fighting men. He began to worry about their prospects.

  The ship was trapped in the Narrows. It couldn’t evade the pirates without being wrecked on the shoals it was threading. The approaching vessel had a shallower draft and oars to complement its sails, which it used to swing wider than their ship could. It was maneuvering to come alongside. The First Mate steered as far away as he dared without tearing a hole in the hull on the rocks below. At the last moment, he veered into the pirate ship and smashed the oars on one side to splinters.

  It was a short-lived victory as a wave of hooks trailing ropes flew up into the rigging of Skye’s ship. Hardened men hauled themselves up the ropes and over the railing. Fighting broke out all around. Skye had nothing but his potatoes, so he hurled one at a boarding pirate. It struck the bridge of the man’s nose, making him lose his grip and fall backward off the ship. Skye kept up a steady barrage of potatoes that only really distracted the pirates, but it was the only weapon he had.

  Skye watched as five pirates fell overboard in quick succession, a throwing dagger in each of their chests. A sixth pirate clutched his chest and Skye finished him off with a well-aimed potato. Skye spun around to identify his ally but caught only a glimpse of a grey blur as a cloaked man ran along the railing, leaving a trail of severed ropes in his wake. Skye felt a biting pain in his shoulder and reached up to find blood on his fingers. His vision blurred, and he stumbled backward. The last thing he saw before passing out was pirates jumping back over the railing and into the sea.

  Skye woke sometime later with Dayl at his side. He was in his hammock, and his shoulder was bandaged. His memory was foggy, and he had a hard time focusing.

  “You doing okay?” Dayl asked.

  “My shoulder feels like hell, and my head is filled with syrup, but I’m alive, so I guess I can’t complain. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work to do?”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Then why isn’t this place filled with sleeping sailors?”

  “The Quartermaster has the men working all hours fixing the damage to the ship. Gower is on rope duty. You’re rapidly becoming a legend, by the way. The word is that you single-handedly held off the pirates that were boarding aft with nothing but potatoes.”

  “Didn’t anyone see the man in grey?”

  “One of the pirates?”

  “He took out a number of them, so I doubt he was one of them.”

  “No one said anything about a man in grey, so I’d keep that to yourself. Don’t fight the legend.”

  “I’ve got to get off this ship,” Skye declared, sitting up.

  “Whoa, there. We’re surrounded by a fair bit of water, and we’re days away from Bayre.”

  “I don’t think I can afford to wait. How far are we from the coast?”

  “Not too far, I guess. The Captain doesn’t want to risk the open ocean until the ship’s repaired.”

  “Perfect. Help me up. I’ve got to check the galley.”

  “I can bring you food.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not food that I’m after.”

  Skye felt woozy as Dayl helped him up. Dayl looked at him skeptically, but Skye assured him that he was all right. Skye grabbed his pack from beneath his hammock and slung it across his back almost falling over from his compromised balance.

  “I’m okay,” he reassured Dayl. Skye stood there for a moment taking in his friend. “I’m going to miss you guys,” he concluded.

  “It really isn’t that far to the galley,” Dayl reminded him, shaking his head.

  Skye clapped him on the arm, bade him goodnight, then staggered to the galley. He found it deserted and reached up to feel around on the ledge atop the potato bin. He pulled his leather satchel from its hiding spot and was relieved when he confirmed that his journal was still inside. He returned it to his satchel and placed it in his pack. In a moment of inspiration, he grabbed a tub from the counter and headed up on deck.

  Several sailors worked on stitching patches on the sails while others held torches for light. The aft of the ship was deserted. Skye picked up a rope and tied it to the same stanchion that he had used when he dove in after Dayl. He pulled off his pack and placed it in the tub. He swung over the railing and, with one hand holding the tub, lowered himself to the water with the other. With a prayer to the God of Luck, he let go of the rope and watched the ship recede from view.

  Cold and alone, he held on to tub and began to kick toward the dim outline of the shore.

  31

  Forest

  The salute died down, and Forest told the kindly fighter, “I’m afraid you have me confused with your niece, Bria.”

  “Bria isn’t my niece. You are. You’re Meadow, and Bria is your mother, or she was, may the gods preserve her.”

  “My mother’s name wasn’t Bria, it was Mercy, and while I was born Meadow, I go by Forest now.”

  “It seems that changing names runs in your family,” he chuckled and held out his hand, “My name is Jarom. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Forest.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Me neither, but here you are standing before me as plain as day with her eyes, wearing your hair the same way, and carrying yourself with the same self-assurance that she did.”

  “I never really knew my mother.”

  “More’s the pity. She spoke of you and your sister with a love that bordered on reverence. She just walked into our village one day and fell into my brother’s arms. He was smitten and doted on her from that day forward.”

  “Why did she never come back for me?”

  “It was a miracle that she made it to us at all. The gods shielded her, that’s for certain, but you can’t impose on the gods’ goodwill repeatedly. They’re fickle.”

  Long-suppressed anger bubbled up in Forest. Jarom’s explanation was understandable, but it did not satisfy her.

  “It’s not my place to say,” Jarom began, “but don’t judge her too harshly. Your mother was a good woman who couldn’t take her life any longer. That can happen to even the strongest of us. She came to us with a broken heart, and it broke a little more every day that she was separated from you. I think when the fever came for her, she couldn’t stand it any longer. I can’t fault the gods for wanting her back among them though, but let’s not dwell on that. They have chosen to bless our family again, and who am I to question their gifts?”

  Forest was at a loss for words and could not grasp that she had a second family that she’d somehow wandered into. She sat down, overwhelmed.

  Jarom gave her some time to process, then said, “Allow me to introduce your kin. I wish I could introduce you to my brother, Bronn, but he honored Bria’s dying request that he find you, and we all knew it wasn’t a journey from which he’d return. Let’s see who’s here.”

  Jarom waved over a boy and a girl, who were both a little older than her. “These are Ravi and Nara, two of your cousins,” Jarom said of the boy and girl, respectively.

  Ravi and Nara clasped Forest’s hands. “We’re excited to meet you finally,” Ravi said.
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br />   “Let me show you around,” Nara added. “But first, Ravi, go get Meadow, I mean Forest, something to eat.”

  Ravi got up to pinch something from the women cooking at the fire and returned with some cooked meat and warm bread. Forest devoured it, all the while feeling guilty that it tasted like home while she was just an imposter in theirs.

  Nara showed Forest where they slept, where they did their chores and kept up a running commentary of who was who while doing so. Forest gave up remembering names when her head started to spin.

  After the evening meal, the clan gathered around the fire and took turns telling Forest stories about her mother and how much they loved her. She was warmed by their acceptance but felt jealous for not being able to recall her mother as they could.

  When it grew late, Nara declared gleefully, “You can sleep beside me!” She led Forest over to her sleeping roll and cleared a space adjacent to it. Forest made to lie down, but Nara stopped her. “Jarom sent Ravi to recover your blankets from the fight.”

  Ravi reappeared with the pile of blankets that Forest had carried as camouflage all day. While they reminded her of a day of uncertainty and fear, she had slept on the hard ground for so many nights recently that she was grateful for the softness of the stolen blankets.

  Nara laid them out while Forest stood yawning, and patted them when she was finished as an invitation for her to lie down. Forest found herself overcome by a wave of fatigue, and she was asleep before Nara finished her next sentence.

  Forest woke before dawn to a tent with no sound but those of slumber. Nara’s arm laid draped over her, and she had to extricate herself carefully so as not to wake her. She crept out of the tent to get some air. Jarom was sitting alone by the fire, poking the coals with a stick. She walked over and let him know she was there by placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her and motioned for her to sit beside him. They sat in silence, staring into the fire. Forest contemplated her new family, while Jarom thought wistfully of his brother and Forest’s mother.

  “Thank the gods for small miracles in dark times,” he concluded finally, stirring the embers.

  “How’d you come to be here?” Forest asked and picked up a stick to poke at the embers as well.

  “Soren’s forces came to our village and rounded up the men. He gave us the choice of joining him or being put to the spear. Didn’t seem like much of a choice to me.”

  “Why is Nara here, then?”

  “If Soren judges a village’s warriors to be assets to his cause, he’s more accommodating of the rest of the clan coming along.”

  “I saw a village set aflame by his forces.” Forest stopped poking the embers, the memory of what she’d witnessed making her stomach turn.

  “He probably judged them unworthy.”

  “Unworthy of fighting against whom?”

  “More of a what than a who. As far as I can tell, Soren has declared war on the airships.”

  “That’s pointless – they’re just glorified balloons.”

  “I guess it isn’t the ships themselves, but whoever is behind them that he’s against.”

  “Who’s behind them?”

  “I’m not sure anyone is anymore. I think the airships are a relic of an ancient system that outlasted its creators. We’re just living in their shadow.”

  “So, without a clear enemy, how can Soren win his war?”

  “Once he’s conquered the world, he’ll see to it that every airship in it is burned.”

  “I don’t understand his hatred of the airships. Sure, no one likes them, but to kill slaughter innocent people over them?”

  “Rumor is it that Soren was ripped away from his family because an airship demanded a passenger, and he’s seethed ever since.”

  “That happens all the time, and people don’t declare war on the world.”

  “Soren has.”

  “If it’s just his vendetta, why do people follow him?”

  “Soren started his war in the north. Those are hard lands. The cargo of an airship can make the difference between who lives and who dies. People resent that kind of powerlessness. It’s not the airships themselves that he’s rallied people against, it is the way of life that they perpetuate.”

  “A lot of people are going to die in his war.”

  “I don’t think he cares.”

  They sat in silence for a time before Jaron changed the topic, “Can I get you some breakfast?”

  Forest dispelled the depressing thoughts. “Yes, please.”

  When Nara finally woke and emerged from the tent, she enlisted Forest to accompany her on her chores. They moved about the camp gathering water, fetching wood, and feeding chickens, and all the while talking Forest’s ear off. When they headed out for a second load of wood, Nara announced, “I have to show you something,” and took a detour to the stables.

  They stood by the horse pen, and Forest just stared at the beautiful animals while Nara looked for what she was after. When a horse approached, Forest reached out her hand to touch its muzzle.

  “Don’t,” chided Nara, “they nip.” Then she dug about in her bag for an apple and handed it to Forest. “Here, give him this, and he’ll love you forever.”

  Forest extended the apple to the horse, which snapped it up and chewed on it contentedly. Forest reached out and stroked his forehead while he munched, and fell in love.

  “Your mother loved horses as much as you,” Nara observed. “She named her horses after you and your sister – Meadow and Lily. She would brush them and cry. We pretended we didn’t notice.” Nara spotted a boy emerging from the stables. “There!” she exclaimed, interrupting herself and pointing at him. He approached a horse, calmly slid a rope around its neck, and walked it back into the stable, rubbing its neck and speaking reassuringly to it.

  “Isn’t he dreamy?” Nara asked.

  Forest was still thinking about the horse but knew Nara was talking about the boy, to whom she hadn’t paid much attention, so she just nodded supportively.

  The boy re-emerged and came to collect another horse near where Forest and Nara were standing.

  “Hi, Thorvyn,” Nara waved to him.

  The boy smiled and nodded but kept to his task. Forest had to admit that the boy was gorgeous, with chiseled features and eyes like deep pools.

  Nara nudged Forest. “Sadly, he’s dumb as a stump, but the heart wants what the heart wants,” she sighed.

  The girls walked back toward their tent. They were constantly catcalled, and Forest blushed at all the inventive ways Nara found to describe what she’d do to their man-parts with her blade. People began to file past them toward the center of the camp, and this piqued Nara’s curiosity. “Let’s go see what’s going on,” she suggested.

  “We should get back.”

  “We’ll be quick. We won’t even be missed,” Nara begged.

  “Okay,” Forest acquiesced, and the girls joined the stream of people heading toward the cheering.

  “Soren’s speaking,” someone nearby told a colleague.

  Nara and Forest walked up to a circle of largely men surrounding Soren, who stood on a wagon, exhorting those around him.

  “Are we slaves?” he asked.

  “No!” thundered the crowd.

  “Then why do we allow ourselves to be treated as such? We depend for our very lives on the good graces of strangers upwind. Are we not our own masters?”

  “We are!”

  “We toil and sweat, and the fruits of our labor are demanded by strangers downwind. Did they earn them?”

  “No!”

  “Our children are pulled from our arms. Should we bleed for strangers?”

  “No!”

  “Should we fight?”

  “Yes!”

  “Should we burn their world to the ground?”

  “Yes! Burn! Burn! Burn!” the crowd shouted with growing intensity.

  Forest didn’t feel safe. She pulled Nara away and hustled her back to their tent, where they found Jarom strapping
on his ranging leathers, tightening the many buckles. He picked up his bow, had a thought, and turned to Forest.

  “Are you much of a shot?” he asked her.

  “It puts food on the table.”

  “Excellent. Do you ride?”

  Forest was confused by the question.

  “Horses,” Nara nudged her, “…at the stables.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. I love horses.”

  “Great. Collect your things and come with me. Nara, lend Forest your bow if you don’t mind. This camp is no place for Bria’s daughter.” He set about collecting supplies for his pack.

  Forest met him back at the tent a moment later, dressed in her leathers and armed with Nara’s bow and a quiver of arrows.

  He raised an eyebrow at the armful of apples she held.

  “For the horse,” she blushed.

  “Oh,” he replied. “Just not more than one a day or your horse will get surly when you don’t have one handy.”

  Forest pulled off her pack and stowed all but one apple in it.

  Jarom handed her a roll of furs, despite the mildness of the spring, and secured his own roll to his pack. Forest followed his example.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Hunting airships,” he replied and led her to the stables.

  They arrived to find a dozen saddled horses waiting for them. Jarom walked the line of horses and selected a small mare for Forest. He was about to help her up onto its back when he noticed that she didn’t have both hands free. He sighed, “Feed her the apple already and let’s get on with it.”

  Forest gave the mare the apple and stroked her neck. Jarom helped her mount the horse and could tell right away that she wasn’t an experienced rider.

  “Out of practice,” she blushed.

  Jarom took it with good grace and gave her pointers that would hopefully keep her bottom from becoming too sore. Other men arrived and mounted the horse of their choosing. Once the party was ready, they trotted out of camp and turned northward. They’d barely left the camp when a thirteenth horse rode hard after them.