Raven Thrall

by J Elizabeth Vincent

  Her mother put a linen bag into her hands. Inside was a waterskin, two loaves of bread, and a few coins. “Are you sure—” she began, but Ashanya cut her off.

  “You must go, child. Hurry. Leave on the North Road and follow the map from there.”

  “Mother—”

  “Go!” She didn’t meet her eyes, only shoved her out the door. Her voice was oddly tight. “Your father needs you to do this, girl.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she replied, but the door slammed, and she was talking to the air. Mariah looked up at the door, shaking her head, before she followed the cobblestone path away from her house, away from the smithy where she had grown up.

  She took a deep breath, but her heart continued to flutter in her chest. It was all too much, she decided. It had all happened too fast, and her mind just hadn’t caught up. So, she would get to Glenley and return as quickly as she could. It was a few days’ walk from what she’d heard. She could be back within a week.

  Steeling herself, she picked up speed, turning after a moment onto the main road, which led to Glenley in the north and Kilgereen and the Granite Sea in the south. The baker, her face knowing, nodded in her direction from inside the window of the bakery. The whole town must know of Father’s injury by now. Mariah nodded back and turned to the road again.

  Two men were marching toward her from the north gate, and the sight of them made the feeling of wrongness burn in her chest. They each wore black and gold armor with a dragon carved on the chest plate. What were King Rothgar’s soldiers doing in Eaglespire? Their eyes were hard, and their hands were on their swords.

  They looked straight at her, and their pace increased.

  She stopped and stood still for a fraction of a moment, pain burning in her chest. Mother!

  Her father’s voice cut through the fog in her head. “You must run!”

  She turned and ran. The sound of the guards’ boots rang on the cobblestones, drowning the sound of her own fleet steps.

  She had to make it to the south gate and to the forest beyond. She could hide there until nightfall. Then what?

  All of her fears were confirmed when one of the guards shouted behind her.

  “Ceo San! You must stop! In the name of King Rothgar, halt!”

  Mariah stumbled. She could never come back. Her mother had condemned her.

  She picked up speed, dropped her bag, and tore at the ties at her throat. The pressure of her wings pulled at the fabric of her dress. Her cloak came away and flew to the ground behind her. She could see the gate ahead. It was a small affair in a stone wall only a few feet high. She fumbled at the buttons down her front but ended up tearing them off, exposing her shift beneath. It was enough.

  Mariah’s wings snapped open, shoving one of the guards behind her and pushing him backward. Her wings knew what to do. She knew what to do. She pumped them hard and rose into the air and over the gate. She had never done anything like this before, although she had always wanted to. She spared a look down and saw the guards running in her direction, but they quickly became smaller as she soared. She flew toward the mountains west of the South Road, grief and exhilaration warring for control.

  Nothing was supposed to change. Tears fell and dried on her face within a matter of seconds. Everything has changed.

  Her mother had turned her in. She must have done it days before for the guards to have arrived so quickly. There were no words for the pain that lanced through Mariah’s heart. Her father would need the reward for his recovery … if he recovered. Only his last words kept her from turning around and giving herself up.

  He’d wanted her to run, to be free. He’d wanted her to fly.

  PART I

  TRANSFORMATION

  CHAPTER 1

  SANCTUARY

  It was early when Mariah awoke. As soon as her eyes opened, she groaned. She needed to leave today to make a trip into the village of Wellspring. She was low on supplies, and she had been putting off the journey for much too long. Her journals were full, and her clothes were woefully inadequate for the coming warmth of summer. Leathers and furs wouldn’t serve her well when she needed to hunt in the blazing sun.

  The people of the village, a half-day’s journey to the south, were always friendly to her, but she hated leaving Firebend and Edana behind for any length of time. Firebend, Mariah’s name for the long-dead volcanic tube of Mount Edana, was her home.

  Gwyn would surely grumble at her for having stayed away so long. She smiled at that thought. I’ll just grumble right back.

  She rolled out of her hammock and stretched her lithe body and let her wings stretch to their full span. As always, they brushed the rough stone walls of the alcove she used as a bedroom.

  “How long has it been this time? Six months? Hmm … There was definitely snow on the ground. I remember that.” Winter had still had a firm hold on the kingdom of Cillian the last time she ventured far from the mountain. She had fought icy winds and a blinding snowstorm to get back. “Four months or so then.” Spring was in full swing now.

  The old woman’s face was prominent in her memory. Gwyneth’s cottage would always be her first and last stop in the village. If she had the need, there was always a bed there for her as well. The woman had become like a grandmother to her, even though they weren’t related.

  Mariah had left all of her family behind when she had flown from Eaglespire and left her home kingdom of Varidian seven years before. Now, she made do with what she could get, but Gwyn was by no means a bad substitute. Mariah’s face involuntarily screwed into a grimace as her mother’s face floated before her mind’s eye. Gwyneth was actually better. Gwyneth would never betray her. She knew that much.

  On that thought, she smiled and ducked out of the little cave and into the expanse of Firebend.

  The cavern opened up to her like a king’s palace, not that she had ever seen one of those, but she imagined that its walls must be this tall. They rose fifty feet above her and curved back in on themselves, leaving only a few protruding shelves of rock and an opening just large enough for her to fly through.

  There were other fissures throughout the walls of the cave, but while small animals could crawl in and smoke could get out, the cracks were too small for a human or a Ceo San like her to get through.

  In the center of the cave, the fire pit was as cold and empty as the spit above it.

  “No time to hunt today,” she muttered. She would have to settle for a bit of the dried venison she had set aside. She left the braziers dark, preferring the chill in the air and the sunlight dappling the uneven stone floor at her bare feet. However, maybe, if the price was right and she could bargain well, she could bring back a new rug or two to put on the floor of her bedroom and near the fire pit where she ate. Anything too heavy would definitely mean walking back, but that was always a possibility.

  Mariah made a circuit of the cave while she tore at the venison and chewed, checking for animal visitors. She found nothing more than the usual squirrels and other small rodents looking for a dry place to wait out the previous night’s storm.

  “You’re lucky I have a bow, little ones, or you might be lunch,” she said to a pair of chipmunks scurrying into a crack in the stone floor. “I must remember to keep my thoughts to myself in the village. Must remember.” She couldn’t help it if the sound of her own voice brought her comfort. The pleasant dripping of water near the edges of her bedroom alcove had also been so pleasant that it had helped her fall asleep the night before. Satisfied that things were as they should be, she stepped out of her leather pants and tunic, carefully unlacing the strings at her nape so that her wings would not get caught, and walked over to immerse herself in the small tarn that graced the center of the ancient tube of Edana.

  “Oh!” She gasped as the chill of the water spread down through her limbs and all the way to her core. But she kept moving resolutely forward until her head was drenched. A moment later, she splashed to the surface. She still couldn’t believe
that the place where she now bathed every morning, where the water was always crisp and clean, used to spew fire and lava onto the hills and plains below. It had been a long time—hundreds, maybe thousands of years?—since Edana had been active, so long that no living person remembered it. Only books, like the ones stacked near her bedside, held accounts of such things. Who knew if they were even real and not a story made up to explain the natural geography?

  “Ooh, books! I should pick up some books in Wellspring, too!” Did Gwyn have any new ones set aside for her? The thought brought a new tingle to her spine.

  A bat swooped in through the wide hole in the ceiling and grabbed onto the rock, hanging itself upside-down with a colony of its mates along the walls. Ah, well, her home was safe from most intruders.

  A grin on her face, Mariah strode to the shallow part at the edge of the pool and immediately lifted off, dripping water as she flew in a wide arc around the edges of the cave until she reached the little group of bats. As she swooped by, still dripping, she let out a piercing, hawklike screech. The ability to make that sound was a handy skill she had discovered after she’d left the kingdom of Varidian so long ago. It sent the bats scattering.

  She wouldn’t ever eat them like the raptors that she considered cousins did, but she had learned early on that letting birds or bats roost above her living room always ended badly for her poor stone floor.

  She laughed as she watched the bats flap their little wings and fly back out through the green-carpeted opening at the top of Firebend before she dove back down into the pool below.

  Mariah finished her bath and let her naked skin dry in the cool morning air as she gathered her belongings. Strips of dried meat, a waterskin that she had filled the previous day, a set of extra clothes, some skins she had preserved after hunting that she could trade, and a small coin purse. She shook it. There were pitifully few of the metal discs clinking around inside. They barely made a sound. She sighed. The folks in Wellspring were always happy to let her do a few odd jobs for them here and there to earn coin or barter for her supplies, but that wasn’t the problem. Despite their friendliness, Firebend was the only place she really felt safe, the only place where she could be sure someone wasn’t thinking of ways to profit from her freakish nature. It was all too easy for people to turn on her.

  She put the supplies into a linen sack, wrapped it in her cloak, and tied the bundle with leather strips. She left their long ends hanging to either side. Finally, her skin dry, she dressed again, laced up her soft leather boots, and tied on the makeshift pack, settling it right above her backside. She looked around the cave, a mournful ache filling her. She couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go.

  Taking a deep breath, in a languid motion, she lifted off and rose slowly to the top of Firebend, giving her eyes time to adjust to the ever-brightening light. She was still squinting when she reached the top and landed just outside. Several feet away, just where she had left it, was a large mat made of branches, vines, and leaves, all woven together. She pushed her fingers through it to find purchase and started to pull. The makeshift grate rustled as a family of chipmunks who had been hiding underneath scattered in several directions.

  “You’ll have to find somewhere else for a few days,” she called after them as she dragged the mat over the entrance to her home.

  Compared to the one in the peak of the mountain behind her, it was a small hole, and trees rose up to shelter it, but she always concealed it when she left. It kept her flying friends out and camouflaged her home somewhat. “No one ever comes up here, Mari. That’s why you chose it, remember?” She sighed. “I know, I know,” she muttered to herself, settling the mat into place. “Let’s go then.”

  She navigated her way down a short trail to a rocky outcropping on the edge of the mountain. Running on nimble feet, she reached the highest rock and stepped out onto it. Exhilaration rushed through her, and her heart sped up. The boulder jutted out into a wide shelf above a drop of nearly a thousand feet. She imagined that she could almost see the borders of Varidian to the north beyond the Granite Sea. She wondered if that land and its troubles would ever feel far enough away. Her immediate world, the northernmost part of the kingdom of Cillian, spread away directly below and behind her, green and lush around the mountain.

  She waited there and stayed silent until she saw them, a group of hawks riding the currents up the side of the mountain, coming in her direction, their wings spread wide to catch the wind. They were still small specs, but they grew larger as they flew closer. As they rose, she stepped off the rocky shelf and dove, the black and gray feathers of her wings tucked in close to her body.

  She let herself drop headfirst, dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, until she was just above the predators before she let her wings snap open and catch the wind. Her hawk cousins had spread out to either side and now rode the currents with her as they had done many times before. The journey back would be harder. She would likely have more to carry, so she allowed herself to enjoy this moment. The current carried her and the group of hawks up, up, up, past her home, over the peak of the mountain, and to the other side.

  She caught the sparkle of the bare trickle of water that started in the crevice of rock below her.

  Beating her wings, she lifted herself out of the natural wave of the current, nodding to the birds as she left them, and followed the path of the tiny creek down into the foothills below. Mariah stayed above the trees that surrounded the stream, alternately riding the wind and beating her wings over the hills for more than an hour until the water was broad and deep enough to have earned its name.

  The Wells River eventually grew even more until it was about a half a mile across, but that was farther into Cillian where Mariah had been only once or twice. Her goal was closer, where the river could be crossed with a good swim or a small canoe. As the green hills settled more into rolling plains, she saw Wellspring come into view. The small village sat nestled in the middle of miles of farmland, the houses as tiny as pebbles.

  She smiled. As much as she hated to leave home, it would be good to see the familiar faces in Wellspring. The closer she got, the more she realized how much she had missed Gwyneth, not to mention Bria and her family. Not everyone in the village was friendly, but most had come to accept her.

  Mariah’s memory darkened as she remembered citizen after citizen that Gwyn had turned away at her door, refusing to let anyone in to see the young woman in her frightened and exhausted state. The villagers had worried that sheltering refugees from Varidian would bring the attention of the queen down upon them. Gwyn had reminded them that Mariah wasn’t the first refugee to grace their village.

  The men and women had argued with her anyway. How long until the queen, like Rothgar, started gathering up Ceo San and demanding their service? They would come to Wellspring and bring military rule. The Ceo San would turn their nice comfortable village into a den of fear.

  However, despite the behavior of her fellow royal beyond the sea, Queen Cenessa had remained loyal to the Althamir, the gods and goddesses of Whitelea. The Ceo San had been allowed to quietly roam free in her kingdom, even those who had escaped from Varidian by wing, fin, or boat.

  Eventually, when no soldiers came, the villagers had stopped bringing their concerns to Gwyn. They had even accepted her when she finally ventured out of the cottage and offered her help and courtesy. She still felt their eyes, though, even sometimes on her more recent visits. Who among them still wondered if it weren’t best for everyone if they captured her and shipped her back to her native land? Let the Varidian king worry about her.

  Shaking off the memories, Mariah leaned to the right and aimed herself at the east edge of the village as a hodge-podge of roofs came into view. There were precious few people out and about, but checking the position of the sun, she realized it must be time for the midday meal. Her own stomach confirmed the fact with enthusiasm. Maybe Gwyneth would have fresh fish today.

  The old woman�
��s cottage was small, whitewashed cob. Her roof was made of thatch over a wood frame. On the stepping stones that wove their way through the little grassy lawn sat a large hunting cat. It was as big as the cougars that sometimes roamed the mountains to the north, and it sat perfectly still. Only its head moved, watching her approach with interest.

  Mariah’s smile grew wide enough to make her cheeks ache.

  She landed with a thump in front of the creature. Its tan fur was brindled with bits of black and gray, with more gray than last time. Mariah stood there for a moment, pulling her wings in close to her body as the cat regarded her with its golden yellow eyes.

  Mariah sighed dramatically. “Well? How long will you make me wait today? It’s already been too long.” She paused as the cat’s eyes widened and its head cocked to one side. If the cat had eyebrows, they would have been raised. “Ah, I see. It has been too long again, hasn’t it?”

  The animal raised a paw nearly the size of Mariah’s head. Its claws were extended, and it made a sound that was a combination of a mewl and a growl before it lowered its foot back to the ground.

  Mariah bent down on one knee so that her head was level with the cat’s. “I’m sorry, my lady. Truly, I am. It’s easy to lose track of time at Firebend. One hunt blends into another until seasons have passed without my notice. I’m sorry. You know how it is for me.”

  The paw came up again. This time the fearsome claws were withdrawn, and the cat put its foot upon Mariah’s shoulder. The young woman took that as a sign and pulled the cat into a tight hug.

  “It’s good to see you again, Gwyn, even if by all rights, we should be enemies.” The old argument brought her a sense of familiarity. “Hunters should be rivals. They shouldn’t be friends.”

  The air shifted around her, warming slightly before turning cool again. It was a familiar but still surprising sensation. When the feeling had passed, fur no longer brushed the skin of her arms. Instead, she felt the soft, delicate skin of an old woman.