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

by Melissa E Beckwith

  “Baobh,” she whispered from dry, cracked lips. “I will name you Baobh Dark-Water, Daughter of the Forest.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Baobh skipped along the pink sand that lined the deserted beach. Every so often she would stop and pick up a seashell, holding it up to the sun to carefully inspect it. She held its smooth, curving shape in her tiny hands. She put it up to her ear and could hear the ferocious roar of the ocean. She wanted to hear more—she wanted to know the secrets of the sea, but no words were uttered. She smiled and placed the shell in a small bag that was hanging from her belt.

  Sharp barking could be heard over the pounding of the waves and the incessant howl of the wind. Baobh looked up to see the pale skins of seals playing in the water, their coats gleaming under the midday sun. Like most mammals that lived in the Carniad Sea, their skin and eyes were bleached white from the scouring waters of the angry ocean. The young girl watched them as they jumped from the crimson waters, then dove and playfully came back up again, occasionally one would be holding a wiggling fish in its mouth. Her little lips curled into a childish smile; she wished she could go out and play with them. She could, she knew. She had swum in the ocean before, taking the form of different animals, and yet her skin did not become lighter. She figured it was because she had never fully immersed herself in the sea in her natural form.

  Baobh turned and looked back down the pink beach at the castle that looked so small at this distance. Its gleaming white walls shone like a beacon on the coast. She knew her father lived there. Her mother told her so. Raven did not talk much, but when she did, she spoke endlessly about the man who was her absent father: High Prince Eric Basilias of Beaynid. Like he was some kind of big deal. She turned it over in her head, and after a while, Baobh grudgingly admitted that he was a big deal—to the Beaynidans! To her, he was just some man that her mother called her father. He would always be nothing to her. She had never even met him. If they had been important to him, he would have come to see them at least once during the ten years she had been wasting away on this beach!

  The seals barked again and brought her out of her morose thoughts. Her stomach growled, and she was reminded it was passed the time for their noon meal. Baobh looked up to the bright blue sky and said a silent prayer to Pom-Ni, just like her mother taught her, and suddenly she melted into the form of a sea bird. She flew up the face of the cliff to where the Alba forest grew right to the rocky edge. There were gnarled pine trees precariously clinging to rocks, leaning back from the edge by the constant wind, frozen diagonally for all time.

  She beat her wings a couple of time and sailed over the forest to the bluff. She had walked several miles along the beach collecting seashells, and she knew her mother would be worried. Or maybe not. Raven’s moods were like the summer rain; you never really knew its schedule. Sometimes she was like a squalling storm. Sometimes she was as desolate as a lonely winter morning. Sometimes she fretted over Baobh. Sometimes she did not even realize she was there. She knew her mother’s mind was never far from Eric.

  Baobh effortlessly floated upon the querulous wind until she reached the grassy bluff, then descended and landed next to her mother as she sat on the boulder looking in the direction of the castle—always searching in vain for a glimpse of her prince. In seconds Baobh was back in her natural form, her small hands folded upon her lap as she patiently waited for her mother to acknowledge she was there.

  “I flew down there today. I saw your father in the garden talking and joking with some other men.”

  Baobh sighed, so it was going to be one of those days. “Mother, I thought you weren’t going to go down there anymore. You know how it affects you.” Baobh took her mother’s hand that felt dry and almost frail.

  “’Tis as if I never existed.” Her black eyes never moved from the castle, as if she could pierce through the whitewashed walls and see Eric walking around, living his life—without her. Raven’s long, sleek braids stirred in the wind. It was the only part of her that was moving. Baobh studied her mother’s flawless face. Her beauty and perfection could not be denied, but inside she was dead. A single tear rolled down her cheek and fell to Baobh’s hand, its wetness instantly cold in the wind.

  “I’m going to make us something to eat, alright mother?” Baobh tried to sound upbeat, and she gave her mother’s hand a little squeeze.

  “I’m not really hungry, darling, but thank you.” Her full lips moved, but no expression showed on her face. Baobh sighed and sat there, holding her mother’s hand, staring down at the castle wishing everyone in there was dead.

  Time passed excruciatingly slowly as summer turned into fall, then winter’s frigid grip closed in on them. The forest always provided for her children, so Raven and Baobh never wanted for food or materials to make clothing. The remorseless winter raged on without a thought to the inhabitance of the land. The months passed, and winter’s long, chill fingers finally relaxed its hold, allowing green to sprout again. Another name day passed without her mother even acknowledging, but Baobh kept herself busy.

  One summer morning Baobh had come back from gathering food in the forest and found that her mother had shorn off all her hair! Her long black braids (long since had lost their colorful beads) were lying like dead snakes in a hastily dug hole in the yard. Baobh hesitantly walked into shack half expecting her mother to be dead. Raven lay curled up on an ancient braided rug that sat before the empty, cool hearth. She was sobbing calling out Eric’s name.

  Raven’s once long hair was now short and bushed up around her head. Her dress was covered with old ashes from the hearth. Baobh sat her bundles of food down in the small kitchen area and walked up to her mother. She could see Raven had taken ash from the fire pit and rubbed it all over her face. Dark streaks had carved paths through the gray ash down her mother’s swollen cheeks.

  Baobh quietly sat next to her mother and tenderly rubbed her back. “’Twill be all right, mama. Everything will be all right.” Baobh tried to soothe her mother. And so, summer passed, then fall, and even winter finally relinquished her grip upon the land. As winter faded, so did Raven—deep within herself. Her once radiant beauty was now dull as she lost weight, her skin hanging on her bones.

  Once the weather had warmed up, Baobh took to flying down to the castle to see if she could spot her father. From her mother’s descriptions, she quickly picked out Princes Tam and Lon with their mass of red curly hair and identical faces. She glided over the stables and riding yard. Evidently, they were fond of horses because she often found her uncles there, sometimes alone but mostly together. They were handsome young men of about twenty summers who seemed confident in their abilities. She had not the patients to watch them carefully to puzzle out their personalities, or even how to tell them apart. They were just people from a family that had devastated her mother.

  One day she spotted King Lund as he sat on a terrace talking to another man. His white-blond hair had turned gray, and his face was even more wrinkled than her mother had described. He used his hands when he talked, his red-jeweled signet ring catching the sun. As she watched, Baobh grew angry and wanted to lash out. But what could a girl do? She could take the form of a lion and eat him up, she supposed. But what would that do, really? Would it cure her mother’s melancholia?

  One exceptionally bright late summer afternoon she spotted the hateful Queen Danielle as the woman walked alone in the garden. Her crisp white dress was heavily embroidered with gold and tiny jewels that sparkled in the sunlight. She wore a dainty crown upon her once-shiny red hair that was now mostly gray. Baobh flitted from one branch to the next in the form of a bright red bird. She cocked her head to the side so she could look closer at the vile woman. Danielle seemed to be deep in thought as she meandered down the bricked path.

  Suddenly she stopped and looked directly up at Baobh. “Come down here little chicky, if you have something to say to me!” Baobh’s heart began to race, and she froze under the green eyes of the queen. How did she know she was there? “
Come on, Raven, come down here and tell me what you’ve been holding in all these long years!” The queen’s words were loud and challenging. Baobh looked around, but saw no guards. Why should she not go down and have a chat with her beloved grandmother?

  Baobh flew down at the queen’s feet and quickly melted into her natural form. Queen Dannielle gasped, as she was not who the queen had expected. Baobh grew cold with anger that threatened to engulf her. She balled up her fists to try and stop the shaking rage. Baobh stared up into her grandmother’s green eyes. “Hullo, grandmother.”

  “You’re even more beautiful than your mother.” The queen smiled, but Baobh knew there was no happiness behind it, only jealousy or perhaps fear. This woman she hated above all others. This woman deserved to die. Now would be the perfect time, she thought, since the guards were nowhere to be seen. Baobh smiled wickedly as she prepared to turn into a beast capable of ripping her into bloody ribbons. Queen Danielle’s eyes opened wide as if she knew just what was about to happen.

  Suddenly a man walked into the clearing. “Mother?”

  Queen Danielle turned around, and Baobh shifted to look at the new arrival. “Ah, Eric, you’ve arrived just in time to meet our visitor.” Baobh could clearly hear the sarcasm in the woman’s voice but lost interest in her immediately as she stood in front of her father. She saw the recognition in his deep blue eyes.

  He quickly approached her and took her hands in his. “Is it you?” he breathed. “Is it really you, my daughter?” Baobh was taken aback. She had played this moment over and over in her mind a million times but never thought it would come true. Here he was, the most hated man in her world, standing before her, holding her hand and looking into her eyes like he really cared. And then her vision was red with anger!

  She ripped her hands out of her father’s tender grip. “I am the daughter you abandoned to die in the forest!” she shrieked, not caring if she bought the guards. She was so enraged that she would kill them all! A look of sheer pain and helplessness flashed across her father’s still youthful face. “Remember my mother who you promised to love?” Her shrill screams echoed across the opening and died in the tree canopies. “You left her to raise a child by herself. You killed her spirit and took away her heart!” Baobh could hear the guard yelling and approaching at a run now.

  She turned to go, fighting the need for vengeance. “Wait,” Eric called out. “I don’t even know your name.” He looked as if he would cry, but she had no sympathy for him. At that moment, she knew she would come back and kill him. Kill them all.

  “Baobh,” she whispered. “Baobh Basilias. The heir to the Throne of Beaynid!” she screamed out for everyone to hear and as the guards rushed up to her. In a flash, she turned into a giant raptor and flew up into the bright sky disappearing into the sun.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I would like to thank you for your interest in my epic fantasy series, The Sword of Rhiannon. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed Flight of the Raven, a prequel to this series.

  To continue the story, please visit:

  https://www.amazon.com/Empress-Ventra-Sword-Rhiannon-Book-ebook/dp/B01NBNZ6VJ to buy your copy of The Empress of Ventra: The Sword of Rhiannon: Book One

  Please feel free to look me up on any of these social media sites. I am most active on Facebook.

  http://www.melissaebeckwith.com

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Melissa has been writing books since before she had learned to read, in the form of picture books, and planned to be an author at age 4. She spent her youth penning short stories, poems and writing in her diary. At nineteen she married her high school sweetheart and started her family. She has spent her adult life raising her three children and teaching herself the business and craft of writing. Born and raised in beautiful Southern California she and her husband now live along the Ohio River in Indiana to be near their beloved grandson, Bryar.

  Melissa enjoys the outdoors and nature, especially camping. She has an interest in the natural world, particularly the wonder of birds and bugs. She can’t grow plants to save her life, though she likes to try. She loves art and paints a little herself. She has a great interest in history and plans on trying her hand at historical fiction in the future. Someday she hopes to travel the world starting with Scotland, Ireland, Africa and Australia.

  Melissa loves to listen to heavy metal, Irish rock, and Celtic music…well, anything Celtic really. She loves dangly earrings, big rings, bright clothes, the color red, yellow roses, orange cats, and little dogs, like her fuzzy Shih Tzu, Abby.

  Most days you will find her tapping away at her keyboard, doing research for her next great novel, or catch her with her nose stuck in an epic fantasy or historical fiction story.

  melissaebeckwith.com