FLIGHT OF
THE RAVEN
The Sword of Rhiannon
Melissa E. Beckwith
Flight of the Raven
The Sword of Rhiannon
Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Beckwith.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design, book editing and formatting by
C.L. Cannon, www.fiction-atlas.com
Map by
Cornelia Yoder, www.corneliayoder.com
Ebook Version
May 2017
For Jacob
Sleep well, my little love.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
The sun was bright and warm as she peered down the broad, dusty road. It lay like a thick brown ribbon between two green fields leading up to the strong castle gates. Her vision was sharp and focused as she watched people in their shabby muted clothing hauling their goods into the city. The bright, crisp colors of the castle guards kept catching her eye. She cocked her sleek, black head to watch as a rickety wagon limped down the road steadily making its way to the gates. The dull clopping of the nag that pulled the wagon floated up to her as she sat on the shaded branch of a tree.
She looked back up to the gleaming white walls of Castle Sona Tuath, almost too bright to behold under the raw morning sun. The North Road was relatively well-traveled, and the raven had been hiding in the tree for hours trying to bolster her nerve to go down to Sona Tuath. Finally, she sighed (or would have had she been in her natural form) and floated from the high branch down to the cool, black soil under the leafy tree. Within seconds the shiny black form of a raven melted into that of a girl. She stood for a long time watching more people pass by on their way to market in Sona Tuath. Biting on her lip, she balled up her fists, then consciously straightened them out again, trying to relax. She turned her dark eyes back down to the soil as if looking for answers there, but found nothing. Eventually, she looked back up to the castle and knew she must go.
Making up her mind, she took a deep breath, pulled a scarf over her head, and started down the road. The spring morning was cool, and the air was filled with the aroma of blooming passion flowers. Birds sang from the treetops, and squirrels chittered their warnings at her as she passed. All things being what they were, it was a beautiful morning. The girl, however, gripped her scarf a little tighter and could feel sweat start to prickle across her body as she neared the capitol city of Beaynid. She had never been this far away from her small village of Ghroc nestled within the Alba Forest. She took deep, calming breaths and resolutely continued down the road to her destination.
The North Road ran into The King’s Road, and soon she was sharing the roadway with others as they slowly flowed into the city. The city had two other, smaller, gates and she questioned her decision to use the main one, but she had hoped that she might go unnoticed in all the traffic. The hem of her dress fell to her ankles, her sleeves were long, and with her scarf covering her head it seemed no one took notice of the color of her skin. She breathed a sigh of relief, but that was short lived as she stood in line to gain entrance into the city.
The line seemed to be moving swiftly, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of a Sona Tuathan Royal Guard just outside the soaring white walls. He was a tall, blond man who looked down at her with suspicious, blue eyes. His sleeveless tunic bore the Basilias standard of a white castle overlooking a red ocean on a bright yellow and blue background. He wore a chain mail shirt under his tunic and a long sword at his hip. His skin and eyes were so pale it almost took her breath away.
He quickly reached out and ripped the girl’s scarf from her head. His eyes grew large, and she heard gasps from several people around her. She turned her black eyes up to the man who now wore an amused expression. “What business does one of the Forest Folk have in Sona Tuath?” His voice was hard and flat.
“I am seeking employment within the castle, sir,” she replied softly, then looked down at her slippers.
“Is that so,” he laughed as another guard walked up to look at the spectacle. “She is looking for a job!” He looked over to his fellow guard and pointed down at her with a stubby thumb.
Trying to gather her nerve she looked back up at the men. The second man was older, but just as pale. He grabbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb and stroked the yellow stubble on his lined face. “You get kicked out of Ghroc?”
The girl’s eyes widened, “No, sir!”
“Then why would you leave?” the first guard asked, genuinely curious.
“I just wanted to see what was out of the forest. That’s all, sir.”
“Humph, well, then, go on! You are holding the line up!” Impatient, the older man stood aside and ushered her forward.
“Thank you, sir!” The girl dipped into a shallow, awkward curtsey and entered through the enormous gate.
Inside was a bustling city, more people than she had ever seen in her young life. She pulled the scarf over her head once again and followed the stream of people, not sure where she was going, but she kept her feet moving, one in front of the other.
Even though the cobbled road was wide, it was filled with people, carts, wagons and animals. She guessed they were all headed toward the marketplace. Apartments lined both sides of the street. All the walls of the buildings were painted white, and the roofs were a bright blue which gave the city a crisp, uniformed look that the girl decided she favored. So different from the organic, natural world she came from.
Excitement bubbled within her as she slowly moved along the street. The apartments started to give way to small businesses and then larger ones as she crept closer to Market Square. She could hear the peddler’s voices above the noisy din as they advertised their wares. Suddenly, the walls of the apartments fell away, and she was in a vast arena of open stalls. People milled about, and children darted in and out of the crowd. Here and there, a dog ran by. The salty air was filled with the warm aroma of cooking meat and spices that she could not quite name.
Her dark eyes slipped from one stall to the next. Neatly folded bright fabrics filled the table of one stall. A shiny swath of cloth-of-gold hung from a corner catching the sun that was almost at its zenith now. Silk ribbons of every color imaginable were strung on a line and waved at her on the constant salty breeze. She resisted the urge to touch the cloth and shuffled down the row. She passed by herbalists with green mounds of vegetation, all of which she could name, including their medicinal uses. A smile was hidden under her rust-colored scarf when she thought of all the flora that was yet missing from the market, plants that these pale strangers knew nothing about. Her heart was suddenly pained at the thought of home, and for the first time, she wondered whether she had made the right decision to leave Ghroc.
As she walked further into Market Square, her mind wandered to when she had left her hom
e only days before. Her older brother, Fire-Caller, begged her not leave Ghroc. Tears ran down her face as she tried to explain her desire to see the world past the Alba Forest. Fire-Caller, six years her senior, had raised her since she had been small after their parents had succumbed to a rare illness that had swept through the small village of Ghroc and called many back to the rich earth. He tried his best to keep her from leaving. He beseeched her not to leave until the very day she had walked from the village hidden beneath the giant trees.
She thought back to his kind face and soft black eyes and wondered how he was getting on without her. He had just taken a mate and started training to become an emissary. She hoped he was too lost in distractions to worry much about his younger sister. As she took in the sea of humanity and the colors, smells and business of the market, she knew she had made the right decision.
After a while, she was recalled to her purpose and started climbing one of the three steep roads that led to the inner wall of Sona Tuath toward the castle. Her thighs burned as she hiked her way up. Finally, at the top, she stopped and looked back down the cobbled road. The blue and white city below her was crammed within the outer wall of Sona Tuath. In the middle of town lay Market Square with its teeming populace going about their business unaware of her scrutiny. Not far from the market stood a huge brick building with a soaring bell tower. She figured this was where the Suans worshiped their god, Ak.
With a sigh, she turned and made her way to the King’s Gate. There were not many civilians about. However, guards were everywhere. She was met with the same disbelief when she approached a guard asking for admittance. At first, she was denied, until a more senior guard let her through accompanied by an escort.
They made their way through a few alleys and past the stables and finally into a neat courtyard. The young guard climbed up the three stairs leading to the large wooden doors and motioned her to follow. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust from the bright outside to the warm golden candles and filtered sunlight pouring in from the high windows.
The kitchen was a beehive of activity presumably preparing for lunch, or perhaps even supper already, the girl did not know. As a young girl scampered by holding a thick, porcelain dish, the guard reached out and grabbed her sleeve. “Fetch the cook for me,” he ordered in a voice a little more authoritative that the occasion demanded.
“Right away, sir,” the girl sniffed and was gone without even a glance at her.
After a while, the girl noticed through the crowd of activity, a thin woman of middle years marching up to them. Her determined face was still not yet lined but carried the weight of much responsibility. Her brown hair was pinned up under a white lacy cap; a few damp curls had broken loose and coiled around her head. Her dress was a light blue, like all the kitchen staff, her stained apron was tied tightly across her thin frame. The woman quickly walked up to them and put her bony hands on her narrow hips and looked up at the young guard. “What is it, I haven’t got all day!”
The guard looked over at the girl. “This here girly wants a job in your kitchen, madam.”
The girl removed the scarf from her head and saw the shocked look on the cook’s wary face. Her pale eyes widened, and she took her hands from her hips. “What would one of the Forest Folk want with a job in a kitchen?” she asked, incredulously.
The girl looked from the guard, whose brows rose in expectation of her answer, back down to the cook. “Well, ma’am, I want to see life outside of the forest. I, um, I want to experience life…” her voice trailed off.
The cook sighed. “How old are you, girl?”
“Ten and six, ma’am.” The girl wrung her hands nervously.
“Do you know how to cook, then?”
“I prepared food for my brother and I.” The words sounded provincial even to her, and she wished she could take them back as soon as they were out.
The cook let out a barking laugh, and she could hear the guard snickering next to her. “Well, cooking for a castle is quite a bit different, young lady.”
“I’m a quick learner!”
“And what about … your … difference? Shan’t you cause a stir with your black skin and pointy ears?”
“I should think people will grow bored of my novelty after a while.”
“Perhaps.” The cook tucked a brown curl behind her ear. “What is your name, girl?”
“Raven Dark-Water, ma’am.”
“And I will not have an angry father in my kitchen tomorrow looking for you?”
“No, ma’am. My parents died when I was young.”
The cook sighed. Finally, she nodded her head as if deciding what to do about Raven and called over another young kitchen girl. “April, get this girl a uniform. Will you? And show her the servant’s quarters.”
April nodded to the cook and motioned for Raven to follow her. “And be back here in half an hour ready to work!” the cook called after them as they made their way through the kitchen.
April led Raven out of the kitchen down a dimly lit hall and into a storage room. She walked over to a huge wooden cabinet and pulled it open. Without a word, she handed Raven a crisp, white apron and continued to dig through blue uniform dresses. Finally, she picked one and held it up. “I think this will fit you.” When Raven didn’t say anything, she lowered the dress and looked at her with ice-blue eyes. “So, you are of the Forest Folk.” It was a statement rather than a question. Raven nodded and hesitantly took the dress from April’s hands. Suddenly the girl stepped closer and took a handful of Raven’s braided hair. She gently let the long, black strands of beaded braids fall through her thin fingers. “Your hair is beautiful,” she said then reached over and gently touched Raven cheek. “I have never seen skin so dark as yours,” she whispered, then looked into Raven’s eyes as if she were embarrassed.
Raven smiled. “’Tis alright, I’ve never seen a pale person until today either.” Both the girls laughed.
“Come on. I’ll show you where the kitchen staff sleep, and then you can change your clothes.” April turned and left the storage room, and for the first time, Raven felt everything was going to be all right.
CHAPTER TWO
That night Raven lay in her narrow little bed and stared up at the stained, cracked ceiling of the tiny room she shared with April. She could hear the girl’s slow, relaxed breathing and knew she was fast asleep. Despite how exhausted she was, Raven could not find sleep. She turned over, the bed sagging and creaking, and looked out the window high up on the wall. Pale moonlight drifted through the glass and illuminated the room.
Raven sighed, her mind drifted back to Fire-Caller, and she again wondered how he was taking her absence. She played in her head what the scene must have been like when Fire-Caller told the Chief Emissary, Journey-Of-The-Moon about her leaving Ghroc. Raven hoped that someday she could go back for a visit, but was not sure Journey-Of-The-Moon would let her in. She flopped over again in her squeaking bed and watched April’s sleeping form until, at last, her eyes drooped and soon she was fast asleep.
In the morning, before the sun was even up, the girls rose from their beds, washed their faces, and dressed in their blue dresses and white aprons. As April tied up her long, white-blonde hair into a bun and pinned a lacy white cap on top, Raven reworked a few of her braids that had come loose during the night. April watched her, a curious look on her face. “Do all the women in Ghroc have braided hair like yours,” she finally asked.
“Not all. Most of the girl’s my age, and younger do. But the older women tend to keep their hair short. Less work, I suppose.” Raven shrugged her shoulders.
“Are all their skin as black as yours.”
Raven laughed, a pleasant, musical sound. “Yes, of course.”
“I should like to go to Ghroc someday.” April bent down and slipped on her leather shoes and tied the laces.
Soon the girls were up to their elbows in flour and dough as they readied the bread for the huge ovens. Raven had never seen food preparation on this scale
before. It was quite overwhelming, but the cook, who she learned was named Rubi, ran everything in a strict, timely manner so that everything was done on time.
During their midday break, April took Raven out to the vast kitchen gardens. The sharp aroma of herbs was heavy in the air and drowned out the smell of salt and fish from the ocean. Raven ran her delicate hands through the large, green foliage of herbs, releasing even more fragrance into the air. She closed her eyes, smiled, and inhaled deeply. As her fingers brushed through the leaves, the plants grew a deeper green and a little taller.
April’s blue eyes grew wide. “You have power over the plants?”
Raven opened her eyes and looked over to the girl. “All Goyor do. We protect and aid the forest.”
“Then I have a job you!” April grabbed Raven’s hand and dragged her further into the garden. They stopped in a quiet place with a gentle breeze and soft shadows from an elm tree greedily stealing most of the sun. “These are Hur’s prized bushes. He found them in Tel ‘Rhia. They are from some exotic place across the Western Sea.” April swept her arm out toward the west. “They don’t look as if they will stay alive much longer,” the girl sighed.
Raven walked over to the sad bushes, their weak branched drooped wearily in the uneven shade. Their heart-shaped leaves were dull and a sickly yellow. Tiny, springtime buds had started to grow, but had given up and were half the size they should have been for that time of year. Raven closed her eyes and touched one of the bushes. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked up at the elm tree that suddenly did not look so proud any longer.
“They are called Burni, and they will give very sweet fruit if they live,” Raven said in a distracted manner. “They are from a land of sun. They do not care for the salt in the air, but they can live with it if they had more sun.” Raven walked over to the elm tree and carefully set her palms upon the rough, gray bark. Suddenly the tree’s massive branches started moving. They creaked and snapped as strong sunlight started to pour through the opening in its branches to shine down upon the ten little bushes. She heard April gasp and heard her footsteps as she moved back quickly.
Flight of the Raven (A The Sword of Rhiannon Prequel) Page 1