Flight of the Raven (A The Sword of Rhiannon Prequel)

by Melissa E Beckwith

  Without looking at the terrified girl, Raven moved back to the Burni Bushes and one by one she ran her hands over them, and as she moved away from the bushes, they seemed to glow. They grew, and their leaves became a dark green, their buds growing and unfolding into bright red flowers. Raven could feel the burn of April’s gaze on her, but she just continued to work with her gift.

  When she had finished with the last bush, she opened her eyes and looked up at April who had moved off a little further down the garden path. The girl looked incredulous, but curious at the same time. “H—how did you do that?”

  Raven smiled wide and shrugged her shoulders. “All Goyor can do that. We help the plants.”

  “But you talked to them!”

  “Probably everyone could if they just learned how to listen.”

  “I do not think so,” April said, doubtfully.

  “What in the name of Ak has happened here?” Both the girls jumped at the sound of a deep voice. Raven spun around to see a man dressed in a green leather tunic and breeches holding a digging tool of some kind. “My Burni Bushes, what happened to them?” His voice was soft with astonishment.

  “’Twas Raven, Hur. She saved your bushes!”

  The man tore his gray eyes from his newly healthy bushes and looked at Raven. She saw the shock in his eyes when he saw her dark skin and pointed ears. “Are you of the Forest Folk, then?”

  “Yes, sir,” Raven replied hesitantly.

  “You have saved my bushes, girl. Look at them! They have grown three feet, at least, and they are flowering now.” His pale face cracked into a smile that was missing several teeth.

  Raven relaxed a little. “They were in need of more sun, ‘tis all.”

  Hur looked up to the tall elm and almost fell on his backside. “The bloody tree has moved! You made the limbs move!” He looked over at Raven with sudden fear and distrust.

  “’Tis alright, Hur. All Goyor can talk to plants and get them to do as they bid.” April tried to calm the gardener. “’Tis just their gift, you see. She did you a favor.”

  Slowly his eyes softened and a reluctant smile appeared on is stubbly face once again. “Then I owe you a thank you, miss—?”

  “Raven. Her name is Raven. We must get back to the kitchen now, Hur. See you later!” April grabbed Raven’s arm and quickly pulled her back down the garden path toward the castle.

  Raven’s days were filled with harder work than she had ever had to endure. She was happy though, and looked forward to getting up in the bitter hours of the morning to start the great ovens and prepare the bread for the day. The other kitchen workers slowly lost their mistrust of her and even started talking to her a bit, though April remained her closest friend.

  Most evenings she walked through the kitchen gardens, waving to Hur as he worked, and then on into the Royal Garden. She did not know if she were allowed there, but Hur did not seem to mind, for when she found an ailing plant or tree she was quick to give aid. The Royal Gardens were filled with exotic trees, bushes, and flowers. Everything seemed to be in bloom this late spring evening. Large marble sculptures dotted the garden, their expressive faces frozen in stone as if cut off from some ancient life. Their twisted or relaxing bodies and flowing robes or fitted armor told stories Raven wished she could know.

  The Royal Gardens reached out to the very edge of the cliffs, the grass and bushes almost flowing over the edge to the rocky beach hundreds of feet below. Raven sat on a large rock and watched the orange sun melt into the ocean turning the sky a brilliant pink. Trails of clouds lined the vivid sky in shades of white, pink and a mellow, soft orange. Bright, white dolphins jumped out of the sea below her as if giving the sun their farewells. A constant salty wind blew off the Carniad Sea, scouring the cliffs and castle walls. Raven breathed in deeply and listened to the seabirds call to each other as they floated above.

  The days were getting warmer as spring started to give way to summer, so Raven was dressed in a sleeveless jerkin and long skirt. One of her first purchases with her newly earned coin. The nights though, were still cool, and she had forgotten to bring her cloak, so she reluctantly jumped down from the boulder and started back down the path through the Royal Garden and to the castle.

  After a while, she got the uneasy feeling someone was following her. She turned around and looked under the trees, now dark with night. Forest Folk could see perfectly in the dark, but she did not see anyone about. She turned and went on her way. As she got closer to the castle huge lamps that sat upon carved pillars offered yellow balls of light to nighttime visitors of the garden. Just as she was passing under one of these lamps, she heard footfalls behind her, and she spun around again. This time a young man stood before her.

  “I am sorry if I startled you.” His voice was deep and smooth. When Raven did not respond, he went on. “I have seen you out here before.”

  Her brows rose. “So, you have been spying on me?” she asked, trying to hide a smile, for he was very handsome.

  “Well, um—no. Not exactly, I guess.” He stumbled over his words and sheepishly looked down at his boots.

  “I am Raven.”

  Quickly he looked back up at her and straighten up to his considerable height. He put a hand to his chest and said, “I am Eric. I am glad to meet you, Raven.” He smiled wide showing dimples in his cheeks and perfect teeth. Raven could not help but to smile back. “You must like this place since you’re here almost every evening.”

  “So, you have been spying on me.”

  “No, just trying to get up the nerve to talk to you.”

  Disappointed, Raven turned to continue down the path. “You just wanted to see the curious girl with the black skin and strange ears.”

  Quickly he stepped in front of her and held out his hands. “No, ‘tis not it at all. I just couldn’t get up the never to talk to such a beautiful girl,” he said, awkwardly leaning from one foot to the other.

  “’Tis that so?”

  “Aye, ‘tis so. So here I am talking to you.” He folded his long arms across his broad chest. And waited for her to disagree with him.

  She laughed and threw him off guard. He suddenly looked defeated. “I’m sorry, Eric. ‘Tis just that most people see me as some kind of peculiar creature and want to touch my hair or skin to see if it does something special.”

  At that Eric laughed. “You are exotic, for sure. But ‘tis not your rarity that had drawn me to you. I see the way you coax the plants to your will. Or the way you reverently study the sculptures in the garden. And they way you almost pray to the sun every evening as you watch it dip behind the sea.”

  So, he had been watching her for a while it seemed. She did not know why, but that excited her. She looked up into his eyes that looked dark in the lamplight, but she knew they must be pale like everyone else’s here.” His shaggy, yellow hair hung to his shoulders. She resisted the urge to reach out and run her finger through it and then almost laughed at herself for wanting to do the same thing she despised others for doing.

  “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage since this is the first time I have seen you here. I don’t skulk around in the bushes.” Her voice was hard, but a smile curled her plump lips.

  “Sometimes skulking is the best way to observe a person’s real intentions.”

  “And what are my intentions, then, sir?”

  “I see you are a kind, deep-thinking, spiritual person.”

  “You read all that from only observing me walking through a garden?” she asked, shocked.

  “Aye. I also know you are fascinated by The Changing of Rylee sculpture by the way you study it and touch its curving lines. I know you are fond of the color red since you linger at the bushes that produce those colored flowers. And I know that sometimes you are disturbed by the rough calls of the sea birds.” He looked down at her with sharp eyes waiting for a reply.

  “I—um. You have been watching me all this time?” she finally asked.

  “Since you arrived in early spring, actually.”<
br />
  “Why did you wait until now to approach me?”

  The young man opened his mouth to answer her, but at the same moment, April’s voice sounded. She had discovered that servants were not allowed in the Royal Garden, except those tending the garden, which she supposed technically she did, but she did not want to have to explain all that to April. “I must go,” she said and moved around Eric to leave.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, softly stroking her skin with his thumb. “Meet me here tomorrow evening. We shall watch the sunset together.”

  She smiled at him, but did not give him an answer. Let him wonder all night, she thought. She turned and ran down the path toward her friend’s call.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Raven woke in the morning in an ill-tempered fog. She had lain awake in bed for most of the night. She could not get the memory of Eric’s tender touch from her mind. She washed her face, tightened up her braids, threw on her clothes, and followed April into the kitchen. They mixed the dough and set it to rise, then started on other tasks to make sure breakfast was on time. She knew April could tell Raven was in a foul mood because the otherwise chatty girl was silent. That was alright with Raven. She was in no mood for talk.

  As she sliced fruit, made pastries, brewed the fragrant tea, and the strong, black coffee Beaynidans were known to love, all she could think of was Eric. She wondered how the young man could go so long observing her without her noticing him. He had gotten so close to know her favored color and the statue that most interested her. Why would he go through so much trouble? She tried to push him out of her mind, but he made the day crawl by ever so slowly.

  Finally, after supper was finished and things were prepared for the morning, she blurted out to April that she was going to walk in the garden and then quickly headed out of the kitchen, passing by the pot boys hard at work scrubbing the dishes. She took off her apron and blue dress and threw them in the laundry basket. Fastidiously, she washed her face and arms, making sure there was no flour or food stuck to her skin. Then she pulled out a red dress she had just bought only days before. She peered into the old, cracked mirror that hung on the yellowing, plastered wall. Her image danced in the light of the tallow candles burning in the room. The sunlight was quickly fading. She ran her hands over her long braids, so black they were almost blue, then smoothed the full skirt down around her thighs. Her eyes were dark pools that the weak candlelight did not penetrate. Her cheekbones were high and sleek, her nose a little flatter, and her lips a little thicker than the other girls she had seen in Sona Tuath. With her dark skin and ears that came to a point peeking out from her braided hair, she wondered why Eric had singled her out. She wondered if he really had been telling her the truth, that he was not interested in her exoticness.

  Finally, she turned, blew out the candles, and headed to the Royal Garden. As she walked down the path, she could see Eric standing under the lamp that had yet to be lit, for it was not dark enough yet. When she walked up to him his young face split into a huge smile. His full lips were framed by dimples on each side. His grinning eyes were like little blue gems twinkling in pale skin tanned by the sun. When she stopped in front of him, he produced a fragrant red flower and fastened it into her hair.

  “The most beautiful girl in Sona Tuath deserves to wear the most beautiful flower in the Royal Garden.” She smiled up at him and felt her face burning hot with embarrassment.

  “You have quite a smooth tongue for one so young.”

  “I’m not that young. I will be one and eight this summer.” He looked quite proud of himself, then suddenly his brows gathered in concern. “How old are you…?”

  She giggled at the comical look on his face. “I am one and six. Not so much younger than you.” He looked visibly relieved.

  “Shall we walk?” He held out his arm, and she bashfully took it, and they started down one of the many paths that cut through the enormous garden.

  “Do you work here in the castle?” Raven asked casually.

  He did not answer right away, so she looked up at him. He was looking straight ahead, and she wondered if he had even heard her. Finally, he said, “Yes, I work in the stables.” His words were halting and unsure. She wondered if he were embarrassed by his line of employment.

  “I work in the kitchen, of which I’m sure you’re aware,” she offered, trying to make him feel more secure.

  “Aye, I’ve seen you come out of the kitchen when you’re resting from your labor.”

  “How long have you worked in the stables?” she asked nonchalantly, again trying to ease him from his embarrassment.

  “I—um, well, since I was one and four.” He coughed nervously and changed the subject. “How are you finding Sona Tuath, so far?”

  She felt horrible that Eric was so ashamed of his job that he did not want to talk about it. She suddenly realized that she had a lot to learn about the delicate intricacies of Sona Tuathan society. “I find that I like it here quite a lot, actually.”

  “Great!” he said that so enthusiastically Raven looked over at him. He sheepishly smiled at her. “I mean, ‘tis fantastic that you’re fitting into our society so easily. How do you like working in the kitchen?”

  “’Tis hard work, for sure. But I find it cathartic, and April and Rubi make it fun.” She wanted to ask him about his work with the horses, but she did not want to cause him further discomfort. They talked on about working in the kitchen and how she got on with Rubi and April. Finally, they stopped in front of The Changing of Rylee sculpture. Raven took in Rylee’s pained expression carved into her smooth face, with her pupil-less eyes looking up to heaven as if asking for forgiveness. She could tell that Rylee was supposed to be a Goyor, like her, for she had the pointy ears and her stone face bore a resemblance to her own. She reached out and touched the curving lines of her flowing gown and the rough animal legs under her torn skirt.

  Raven could feel Eric’s eyes on her, so she turned to him. He was carefully examining her reaction to the sculpture. “Do I offer that much entertainment?” Suddenly she was angry, once again feeling like Eric’s only interest in her was her uniqueness. She turned to leave.

  “Wait, please!” He reached out and grabbed her arm stopping her flight. “I mean no disrespect. Please forgive my presumptuousness. I know this is one of your favorite places in the garden, that’s all.”

  Raven’s brows were drawn together in anger, and she knew he could tell she fumed. “She is Goyor, as I am. So, you brought me here to … what? To get a reaction? To ease your curiosity?” She balled up her fists and clamped her lips tight.

  “No!” he stated, again. “I know this sculpture is important to you and I just thought, maybe, you would like to share with me why…” his voice trailed off as he looked down to his boots.

  Raven sighed, her anger spent. She overreacted, and she knew it. She took his large hand in her much smaller one. “I apologize, Eric. Perhaps I’m too sensitive. For months I’ve been a spectacle, and I’ve have grown weary of it.”

  He looked back up to her, his blue eyes turning dark as evening claimed the garden. He squeezed her hand. “You are a spectacle to me, Raven. You are the most striking girl I have ever seen, and you are correct, I am interested in your past and your abilities as a Goyor. But mostly I just want to be near you. To know you as a person. ‘Tis it so wrong for a man to want to know a woman better? Do you not have relationships like that in Ghroc?”

  Raven smiled a broad, bright smile. “Of course, we do. But I just met you yesterday. Shall we not talk a bit more before we are matted?”

  Even in the darkening light, Raven could see Eric’s face turning bright red. She was sure the tips of his ears were burning too. She laughed out loud. Her voice was harmonious and musical as it lifted into the cool air and bounced off the trees. She stopped laughing and looked up at Eric, and it was as if he were enthralled. It almost took her breath away. Suddenly he bent down and kissed her. Her mind went blank, and everything faded to nothing except the wa
rm feel of his lips on hers.

  When they parted, they were both out of breath. Her heart thudded in her chest like the smithy’s hammer, and all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears. She slowly looked around the garden, and it was glowing. All the flowers, bushes, and trees were glowing softly like the spark of a firefly or the twinkle of a star. Bumps formed across her skin and she felt cold. Suddenly she was aware of a warm cloak being placed across her shoulders. She looked up at Eric as if seeing him for the first time. Her lips parted as if she were going to say something, but she did not know what to say.

  Eric smiled at her and took her in his arms. He was warm and smelled of spice and soap. She felt his heart beat in his chest and was sure it was beating in time with her own. His arms were solid as stone, and she knew from that moment on she was his. “’Tis alright, my beautiful, Goyor princess. I have you now.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Raven lay in the curve of Eric’s arm, resting her head upon his solid chest. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heart like an ancient clock keeping time and seasons. She looked up into the cloudless blue sky framed by branches of trees as they silently raised their arms to the sun. A fragrant breeze rushed through the opening and cooled off her skin. The weather had turned warm. It was now the middle of summer. Birds chirped and sung from the trees as squirrels scampered from one branch to the next. It had been weeks since that first kiss in the Royal Garden. Since then Raven had seen Eric every day. Like now, she met him at noon to spend her break with him, then again after her work was done. They spent their time walking in the garden mostly. Eric did not want to venture out of the castle proper into the city. She wanted to question him about it, but let it slip by, telling herself in time he would tell her all his secrets.

  She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down into his blue eyes, so bright and clear like a pool of water in a shaft of sunlight. They were always crinkled in a smile like little blue arcs in his pale skin. She ran her delicate, dark hands through his tousled blond hair. She was fond of the way it hung around his shoulders in a shaggy mess. His square jaw had a slight shadow to it and led to his wide chin. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. So different from the men of Ghroc with their tightly curled, short cropped, deep black hair and black eyes. Eric was the exotic one to her.