The Crow Rider

by Kalyn Josephson

“No.” I refused to think it. These people were not dead. If Razel had attacked to draw me out, if my escape had led to these people living through what I had… “No,” I said again.

  Caylus slowed beside a pile of debris. He knelt and reached for a strip of blue cloth. My first thought was Illucia, but the shade was wrong. It wasn’t the royal hue they bore but a bright, sea-blue ice.

  And the sight of it turned him to stone.

  Just as I started to ask, rocks clattered in an alley to our side. I whirled as a thin form leapt into view, bow drawn and aimed at Kiva.

  “No!” I leapt toward her at the same moment the string resounded with a snap.

  I waited for the thud of metal in flesh and the wave of pain, but it didn’t come. My eyes had closed involuntarily, and I slowly peeled them open.

  The arrow hovered inches from my face.

  It dropped to the ground with a clatter, taking my breath with it. I nearly wilted, but Kiva seized my arm. Res’s eyes glowed bright silver.

  He’d done it again.

  In Illucia, Res had shown signs of magic beyond his expected storm abilities. Somehow, he’d wielded a shadow crow’s power to hide and shook the earth with the magic of an earth crow.

  Now he’d stopped the arrow like a battle crow.

  “H-How?” the shooter stuttered. His thin voice stilled me. He was only a boy. Ten, maybe eleven at the most. The bow was too big for him, the quiver sagging loose at his hip. He fumbled for another arrow but dropped it, nearly losing hold of the bow in his attempt to catch it. With a curse, he turned to flee—and ran straight into Samra.

  She caught him by the forearms, hardly seeming to notice his struggle. “Explain yourself.”

  “Let him go!” My voice cracked as I surged forward. Samra frowned, and I straightened beneath her dark gaze. “He’s a Rhodairen citizen, a child, and I said to let him go.”

  She watched me with that same unreadable look, holding on a moment longer as if to test me. Then she slowly unfurled her fingers.

  The boy stumbled back, rubbing at his wrists. “Please don’t hurt me,” he begged. “I thought you were them.”

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” I said softly.

  His umber eyes were round with fear. Then they settled on something over my shoulder, and he let out the smallest gasp. “A crow!”

  Res straightened, puffing out his feathers and lifting his head.

  The boy’s eyes somehow grew wider. “But that means you’re—” His mouth fell open as the realization of who I was clicked into place. “Saints, my sister’s not going to believe this! She said the rumor the princess found an egg was a lie! I told her it wasn’t. I told her! Oh, what’s his name? What kind of crow is he? Can I pet him?” The words flew from the boy’s mouth almost faster than he could form them, the near arrow mishap already forgotten.

  I grinned. “Resyries. Storm. And yes, I think he’d like that.”

  The boy shot forward as fast as the arrow he’d fired and threw his arms around Res, burying his face in his feathers. The crow’s wings curled around him in a protective arc.

  “Storm,” Samra said slowly, as if testing the word for weakness. “Then how did he stop that arrow?”

  “That’s not all he did.” Kiva’s voice came quietly, tentatively. She was staring down at her injured arm with a careful, uncertain awe. Slowly, she rolled it forward and then back without a hint of pain.

  “Thia, I think he healed me.”

  * * *

  The boy’s name was Jaycyth—Jay for short—and the bow belonged to his mother. She was a soldier who’d been called up for reinforcements when the Illucian threat appeared on our border. He lived in Cardail with his older sister, his father, two hounds named Stick and Stone, and a frog called Toad.

  All this he told us before we even turned the corner at the end of the street.

  “I don’t think he needs to breathe,” Kiva muttered to me at one point.

  Jay also told us his family ran the town inn, which was where the rest of the villagers had taken refuge, wanting to put distance between themselves and the coast. He was supposed to be gathering fruit from the orchard when he spotted our sails.

  We turned another corner, revealing a small courtyard bustling with people and animals before a squat, two-story building with a sign that read The Edgewood Inn. Sure enough, the line of a small wood rose behind it, casting a shadow over the people hauling buckets of water from the well at the square’s center and lining up to receive food from a vendor roasting spiced chicken.

  It felt good to see Rhodairen faces, to hear Rhodairen voices. A smile spread across my lips, remaining plastered there the deeper into town we went, the familiarity of my people like a warm winter coat.

  “Jaycyth!” A deep voice barely preceded a thick-chested man as he broke through the crowd. “Where in the Saints’ name have you been? I told you to come straight back.”

  Jay burst forward, seizing his father’s shirt and tugging. “Look who I found!”

  I moved aside, letting Res step forward from the shadows of the alley. A gasp sounded across the courtyard, an excited murmur swelling through the crowd alongside shouts of “A crow!” and “The princess!”

  I stepped forward. “You must be Jay’s father.”

  My words broke the man’s stare, and he dropped quickly to one knee. The action rippled through the square as person after person knelt. It struck me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the formality of it, something we rarely adhered to in the capital where the royal family’s presence was as likely in the local tavern as the grand hall. No, it was the looks on their faces as they took in first me, then the crow at my side. The way their bent backs straightened and the edge of exhaustion in their eyes softened into something warmer.

  Into hope.

  “Please, stand,” I called across the square. They listened, rising as one. “My name is Anthia Cerralté, princess of Rhodaire. You may have heard the rumors that I discovered a crow egg and took it with me into the heart of Illucia. Well, you can see now those rumors are true.”

  A murmur coursed through the crowd. Jay jumped excitedly, still clutching his father’s shirt.

  “With the help of Resyries’s magic, we will protect Rhodaire. For now, I’ll offer you whatever help I can.” I looked from person to person as I spoke, meeting their tired eyes. “Will someone tell me what happened here?”

  “Mercenaries,” said Jay’s father. “They came in on ships from the north. There were Illucian soldiers with them but only a handful. Most of them were Ambriellan.”

  Caylus stepped forward, proffering the bit of blue cloth he’d found in the rubble. “Did their ships have a kingfisher on their flag?”

  Jay’s father nodded, and Caylus paled. Samra let out a low string of curses.

  “What?” I asked.

  Caylus’s hand closed about the cloth so tightly, his knuckles flared white. “Malkin.”

  The man who’d stolen so many years of his life, the one who’d forced him to work and to fight until it’d destroyed him physically and mentally.

  He was working with Razel.

  I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around Caylus and hold him, but I felt the weight of a hundred pairs of expectant, hopeful eyes.

  “What did they want?” I asked, though I feared the answer.

  Jay’s father shook his head. “They didn’t say. They didn’t really hurt anyone even. Just ransacked the town, piling everything they could out into the streets and setting it alight. It was strange, really. Even the fires were odd. It was like they just sprang up fully formed, and they ate through stone. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I had. It was just like Ronoch. The fires had come swift and fierce as the blaze of a fire crow, searing through everything like paper. We’d found oil on the stones and in the rookeries,
but even that seemed inadequate to explain how fast the fires had spread and how hot they’d burned.

  “We aren’t the first though,” he continued, folding his arms. “Enair burned a couple days ago, just the same way. Like a—”

  “Like a signal,” I finished quietly. A signal for me. Razel didn’t know where I was, and she intended to draw me out. What better way than setting fire to towns along the coast, knowing I’d eventually have to make land to resupply? Even if I didn’t see the smoke or find a burnt town, word would spread.

  “Which way did they go?” Kiva asked. “We’ll hunt the bastards down.”

  “Not with my ship you won’t,” Samra said. “I agreed to take you to Trendell, not to hunt down that night-cursed spider.”

  I rounded on her. “They’re not going to stop! They’ll keep burning towns unless we stop them.”

  “And give Razel exactly what she wants? You’re playing straight into her hands.”

  Frustration tore through me, and I forced a deep breath. “Razel thinks she can control me. She thinks I’ll come running to protect my people only to end up cowering in fear at the fire around me. But I won’t. She’s underestimated me, and I’m going to make her pay for it.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before Malkin starts hurting people,” Caylus said, eyes trained on the strip of cloth clutched between his fingers. “If only for his own sick entertainment.”

  Cold fury prickled down my spine. “I’ll show them what happens when they attack my home.” The connection between Res and me thrummed to life as I spoke, rising with my words. I faced the gathered crowd as a sudden wind gusted through the street. “Queen Razel wants to scare us. She thinks I’m weak. That Rhodaire is weak. She’s wrong.”

  Res let out a low call, and thunder boomed in the gray sky. The wind rose, swirling slowly at first before gathering into a steady gale. It caught the smoke and the ash and carried it away, out past the shore and over the sea, leaving behind a clear, cobalt sky.

  Kiva grinned up at it as someone in the crowd called out, throwing up their fist. More echoed them, a cheer filling the air.

  Samra watched me with dark eyes, her frustration practically palpable.

  This wasn’t over.

  Three

  Although we’d planned to load up on supplies in Cardail, we ended up leaving most of what we had with the villagers instead. Isair, the next town down the coast, was slightly larger and would be better suited for restocking anyway. Less than a day’s sail for a normal ship, it’d take us only a few hours with the aid of Res’s wind. He perched at the stern of the ship, wings spread, guiding a current gently into our sails until the ship all but flew across the water.

  I studied the faint outline of the pale, key-shaped scar on my palm. When I’d asked Res about the other powers, he’d sent only confused, questioning pulses back along the connection. Whatever he’d done to stop that arrow and heal Kiva, it hadn’t been under his control, but I had no doubt it was the same reason I’d been able to reach into a roaring fire and still retain the use of my hand.

  The idea of what he could be thrilled me. A storm crow was a force to be reckoned with, but a crow that could use all eight abilities?

  Razel wouldn’t know what hit her.

  I scanned the deck, expecting to find Caylus working with the crew, but found only a grizzled, sharp-faced man watching me. Onis. He was one of the oldest crew members, second only to the ship’s cook, Darya, and he hadn’t done anything but glower at Res and me since we’d boarded back in Port Maranock.

  When I caught his eye, his fingers went for the colorful Ambriellan knots at his belt, his lips moving in a quiet prayer.

  Kiva appeared before me with a furrowed look of annoyance.

  “Make it go away,” she demanded.

  I blinked at her. A moment later, a tiny kitten trotted up and sat down beside her. I grinned as Aroch licked one snow-white paw.

  “He’s only following you because he knows you don’t like him.”

  “He’s a cat.”

  “Exactly.” I patted her on the shoulder. “Watch Res for me, will you?” Before she could object, I slipped past her and inside the ship, seeking out Caylus’s cabin. The door was open, and I found him leaning against the wall. He peered out the small window, lost in thought, his arms crossed as if to hold himself together.

  “See anything interesting?” I asked.

  He startled and I winced. It was so hard not to sneak up on him when he was like this.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard my question. Knowing him, he hadn’t.

  I stepped into the room and leaned back against the wall with my hands tucked behind me. “I don’t know. Is there?”

  He bit his lip, averting his gaze. This wasn’t the first time he’d chosen silence in the face of my questions. Caylus had always been reserved, but since we’d left Illucia, I’d found him retreating into his thoughts more often than not. Pulling him out had become harder and harder.

  I took in the nervous tap of his fingers against his ribs, the way he leaned harder against the wall as if it could be a shield. Discovering Malkin’s involvement had shaken him.

  I thought of the conversation we hadn’t finished that morning.

  “You can stay on the ship,” I said softly.

  “No.” The iron of his answer shocked me. He pushed off the wall, forcing his arms down to his sides. For a moment, I saw the boy who’d stepped between Ericen and me on the bridge, the fighter he must have been under Malkin’s control. “I have to face this. If I can’t—” He shook his head. “What am I even doing here?”

  I pushed off the wall, crossing the small room to take one of his large hands in both of my own.

  “You’re here because you’re a good person,” I told him. “Because when I was in trouble, you helped me, and I will forever be grateful for that. Now it’s my turn to help you.” I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to face Malkin alone.”

  His agitation settled, his fingers closing around mine. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. This comfortable silence was a space we inhabited together. Safe, content. We’d built it sitting in his workshop night after night, but it’d gotten lost in the vastness of the sea. I clung to it now, hoping it would be enough.

  * * *

  We reached Isair just before sunset. The town was blessedly free of smoke and flames, but a massive, richly ornamented ship took up most the harbor, its railings etched with gold like delicate embroidery. A while flag snapped in the wind, bearing a bright blue kingfisher.

  Malkin was here.

  The fading sunlight illuminated a broad boulevard running along the coastline in either direction. Several piers branched out into the sea, each as empty as Cardail’s had been. No one bothered us as we docked. No one called out.

  We’d decided to leave Res on the ship until we needed him, since his presence would make scouting the situation unseen near impossible. With my black gold bow strapped to my chest and a full quiver of arrows, I led Kiva, Caylus, and Samra off the ship and into the darkening town, Samra donning her black-and-white mask to hide her identity.

  As one of Rhodaire’s main port towns, I’d visited Isair once as a child on our way back from the Ambriels. Then, music had flowed along the docks in an endless stream, threaded with bouts of laughter, and Estrel and I had eaten what felt like a hundred orange cakes.

  Now it resembled a tapestry stripped of its dye, bleak and lifeless.

  Malkin might not have set it on fire yet, but his people had already begun their work. Piles of belongings littered the streets before homes with broken doors and shattered windows. People had clearly been forced from their homes. From what I remembered, the city was a maze of stone and alleys, the streets oriented as if drawn by a child’s scribbling hand. Where would Malkin have corralled everyone?

 
We moved down a broad central street that opened to an empty crossroads. A towering statue dominated the center. Draped in white-flowered delladon vines, a fresh crown of woven ivy sat atop its head.

  A Sella.

  I slowed, surveying the ancient being. Tall and thin with long hair and too-sharp cheekbones, it was easy to imagine how many had once seen these creatures as gods.

  Kiva stepped up beside me. “I’d have expected this in Seahalla but not here.”

  “It’s strange,” I replied. “I didn’t think anyone in Rhodaire thought of the Sellas as anything more than long-dead legends. Is it only in Aris we’ve stopped believing?”

  “It’s only in Aris your mother was able to crush what remained of that belief,” Samra said. Her voice felt even more condemning from behind that mask. “She closed the last Sella temple in Aris.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  The captain’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she simply turned back the way we’d been heading. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time. Malkin could light this place up at any moment.”

  As I turned my back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the statue’s gaze went with me.

  As we exited the square, voices sounded, and we ducked into an alley. Caylus peered cautiously around the edge before pulling back.

  “Malkin’s guards,” he said softly. “I recognize them.”

  “Great. Let’s say hi.” Kiva patted the sword she’d borrowed from one of the crew, Sinvarra still lost to Shearen, the Vykryn soldier who’d taken the black gold blade from her.

  “Or—” Caylus’s voice caught. He gritted his teeth. “I could turn myself in.”

  I gaped. “What? No.”

  The voices grew louder, one saying something jeering to the other. They carried a torch with them, the light dancing along the far wall.

  “They’ll take me to Malkin,” Caylus said. “It’s the fastest way to find out where he is.”

  “And to get yourself killed,” Kiva said at the same time as Samra said, “It makes logical sense.”

  They glowered at each other. I ignored them, reaching for Caylus to object, but he was already moving. He stepped into the road.