Ravenwood

by Lowell, Nathan

  “Are you awake now, witch? They’ll never find you, you know? Oh, no.” He chortled and drooled a little. He lifted his hand and she flinched but he laughed and bit into the apple he held in it.

  He smiled at her and the effect should have terrified her but her fingers caressed the knife under her hand. He’d have to untie her if he planned to do much of anything besides beat her about the face. When he did, she’d be ready.

  He saw the change in her face. He stared at her. “No, you’re not going to die yet. No.” His denial came out low and insistent. “Oh, no. Not after you ruined me. I have to ruin you before you can die. You’ll be glad to die when I’m done with you, but not yet. No.”

  His eyes scanned her face and she smiled. She started to shiver but her muscles lacked the strength. In her mind she formed another prayer. “Guardian of the East, Breath of the Earth, loan me your quickness that I may survive until I can once more breathe the gentle air of spring.” The prayer gave her strength but his punch to the side of her head overwhelmed her, and she fell into unconsciousness once more.

  She poked her bill into the thin ice and got her drink. She needed to help. She needed to do something. She launched. Up, up, she flew and arrowed between the trunks. There would be meat in the end and she would feast but first she needed to find the man with the hat, the man she’d seen before. She needed to find him, the man in the snow.

  She broke into the village clearing and cawed her frustration. Nobody stirred. Not a man, not a child. She wheeled in the sky and looked down but nothing moved. She flew through the woods, fast between the trunks and over the brush. The horse stood there beside the tree and she smelled the meat and smoke. She smelled the man and the woman who fed her, too. She picked the faint scent out of the background smells as she skimmed along the length of the fallen tree. She smelled the people and she smelled the meat and she smelled the blood. Her call echoed through the forest and she banked sharply to fly back to the village to find the man with the hat.

  The cold, hard ground beneath her battered face pulled Tanyth back to consciousness. The now sodden blankets leached more of her body heat away. “Guardian of the South, Fire of the Earth, warm me against the chill of winter. Fill my heart with fire.” The prayer echoed through her brain even before she tried to open her eyes. He was still there. She could hear him, smell him.

  “It’s almost time, witch.” He giggled. “What part do you want to lose? Eh? Shall I cut off your tits?” He spit on her. “You’re too old already for men to look at you but you’ll see. You’ll know, won’t you, witch?”

  She looked at him, unable to muster enough strength to hate him, saving her energy against the cold, saving her strength. When he unwrapped her, she’d be ready.

  He pulled back his fist and took aim at her bruised face and she flinched but he drove it into her gut, forcing the wind from her lungs and driving her back into unconsciousness as he laughed. “Surprised you with that one, didn’t I?” She heard him even as she fell.

  Her wings bit the cold air and she streaked upwards to clear the trees. She needed speed and speed meant open sky. She went up and then rolled at the treetops to drive for the buildings. As she came over the last line of trees, she saw a man walking to the big building with no walls but the wrong man. He didn’t look up even as her caw split the morning sky. She flew beyond and over to the building with horses. Yes, she found grain sometimes but the man with the hat cared for the horses. Perhaps she could find him there.

  Big doors blocked the way so she couldn’t see in. She screamed her rage. The woman needed help. She banked hard and streaked back through the treetops to the village and saw only the man who wouldn’t look up. Her lungs burned and her wings ached from the extended flight. She perched on the top of the house that sometimes had rabbits. The house had no rabbit, and the woman who fed her hid under a fallen tree and the meat hid there with her.

  She cawed and cawed again. Her anger and her hunger drove her. Something else drove her, too, and she cawed some more. She paced up and down the ridge of the roof and heard a sound under her talons–sound from inside the house that sometimes had rabbits. The door opened and the man came out. The right man. The man she’d seen before in the snow. He wasn’t wearing a hat but it was the man and she cawed.

  He made the sound. The sound all the men made before, but he didn’t shout it.

  She launched for the woods, darting between the boles, heading for the tree with the rose hips. The tree where the horse stood. The tree with the meat under it. The tree where the woman who sometimes fed her lay dying.

  The cold dirt against her face brought her back once more and she struggled to push herself upright. She didn’t really want to sit up, but she was laying on her knife arm and she needed to free that arm before she lost feeling in it, before she lost any more strength. She lacked the strength to pull herself up without using her hand to push and so just rocked slightly.

  She panted against the dirt. “Guardian of the West, Blood of the Earth, give me the strength of the river to wash over the pain.”

  He grabbed her shoulder and rolled her over, slamming her head against the packed earth of the floor. His dagger glittered in the faint light of morning and it flashed down at her but only cut the cords holding the blankets tight around her.

  “I think it’s time.” He giggled and a line of spittle drooled off his lip. “Let’s see what part you want to lose.” He poised the tip of his dagger over her one clear eye. “Maybe I’ll just take an eye to start.” He grabbed her nose with his free hand and gave it a wrench, breaking the clots, and opening the passages to air again. “Maybe the nose? Eh? If I take your nose, how will you smell, old woman? Eh?” He paused, the cold steel glittering over her right nostril. “Just as bad as ever!” He chortled at his own, old, joke.

  From outside the calling of a raven echoed through the wood and the man’s head jerked around. He froze for a moment and the caw repeated, becoming more insistent. He cursed and released her nose. “Cursed bird!” He spat on the ground and turned back to Tanyth. “Don’t go away, little mother. We’ve got business yet!” His boot lashed out, clipping her on the jaw and her head rang from the blow as she slipped away once more.

  The man ran behind her. He wore no hat but he shouted something after her. She didn’t stop but kept going. She shouted back to him her calls bouncing from the tree trunks as she flew. In moments she was back at the tree and fetched up on a limb. The meat was there. She could smell it now. She called again. The man’s shouts were faint in the distance but getting louder. He made the sound again, the sound they’d all made.

  She called several times and the horse rolled his eyes and swished his tail but he looked bad, too. Maybe the horse would be meat soon and she’d feast, but first the woman needed help, so she cawed.

  The shouts got closer and the meat crawled out from a hole under the tree. He waved his arms at her. He made whooshing sounds at her and picked up a stick to throw at her. She dropped off the limb and dodged the stick and circled around. He picked up another stick and waved it at her. She cawed loudly and stooped. Her talons raked his face and he dropped his stick, clutching the bleeding wounds. The meat smell maddened her and his hot blood warmed her toes. She flapped around and came in again, cawing and striking with her wings, she slashed with her talons once more and his flailing arm swatted her roughly. She screamed and grabbed his face with both feet, holding on and pecking at his face, his head, his hair. His heavy hands struck at her but she bit his fingers and drew strips of flesh from his hands. His screams were as loud as hers but he pounded her and she had to let go. She released him and one last clumsy strike of his arm tossed her heavily against the bole of a tree, stunning her. She fell to the ground.

  He loomed over her, moving quickly to reach for her even as she floundered in the snow to get her feet under her. If his hands found her, she’d die. Her wings flapped snow into his face as she tried to escape. She banged against the tree as he reached again and she cawe
d her defiance into his stinking face even as bent to grab her.

  He screamed back at her and fell heavily to his side, clutching at his leg even as a strong arm grabbed his shoulder and dragged him onto his back in the snow. The woman who fed her was there in the snow, her face a snarl. She heaved herself up from the ground with the arm that held him pinned even as she raised her knife high in the air and plunged it down into his shock filled eye, staking his head to the frozen ground with a peg of sharpened steel.

  Tanyth’s vision was oddly split, seeing half with her eyes and half with the eyes of the raven across from her. She panted and fell heavily across the stinking body but watched as the raven found her feet and launched herself up, over the fallen tree and flared her wings to take refuge in a small spruce. Their hearts pounded in their chests. Their bodies still rang from the blows.

  She had some feathers that were damaged and she did what she could to preen them into shape. The meat-man’s blood was in her talons and a strip of his flesh. She ate it, cleaning her talons of the gore, but wondered if there would be a rabbit later.

  They watched Frank come thrashing through the trees and take in the scene with wild eyes and a shocked expression.

  Tanyth looked up at him with her one good eye, her head turned at an awkward angle. “In the name of the All-Mother and the All-Father, would you please get me off this stinking corpse?” Her strength failed her one last time. She never felt the ground slap her in the face.

  Chapter 39

  Raven Dreams

  In her dream she woke. She knew it was a dream this time. Her fingers were feathers and her arms were wings. Her nose was long and she had to turn her head from left to right to see with one eye and then the other. It was an odd feeling but she laughed and it bubbled up out of her like a raven’s croon. In her dream she sailed the blue, blue sky and saw the earth below, spooling out like a river flowing beneath her strong black wings. She called but her voice was silent. It didn’t ring in the morning air. Just a dream, she knew, but still it was her dream and her voice should sound. She opened her mouth to call again –

  “Hey!” Her voice woke her. It didn’t ring out, but it was her voice. Faint and breathy, but her own and she opened her eyes and looked up at the rafters. “The house with rabbits.”

  Amber’s face moved into her line of sight. “There, mum. You’re safe now.” The words echoed oddly but she was able to understand. She didn’t feel safe.

  “The house with rabbits.” She looked at Amber’s face. She looked terrible. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red.

  “Rabbits, mum?” Amber frowned curiously.

  The darkness called Tanyth back and pain pulled her but she smiled and tried to speak clearly through the swollen lips. “The house with rabbits. Rabbits.”

  She saw Amber’s expression change from curiosity to alarm. “The house with rabbits?” She bit her lower lip. “There are no rabbits here, mum.”

  Tanyth sighed and fought the darkness once more. “Get some. Tell Thomas.” She couldn’t fight it any more and let the darkness call her back.

  In her dream she stood in the bow of a ship and it was like flying. The wind blew through her hair and she had to leave her hat and staff below. The morning sun warmed the right side of her body even as the icy wind stuck daggers of cold through her clothing but she threw back her head and laughed. Above her the taut triangles of sail gleamed whitely against the deep azure sky of spring. She looked ahead once more–north–and saw the smudge of land on the horizon.

  A voice behind her said, “Mum? You shouldn’t be on deck in this cold, mum. Mum?”

  She turned to face the sailor but opened her eyes to Sadie’s concerned gaze. “Mum? You need some willow bark tea, mum.” She held a mug up into view. “Do you think you can drink?”

  Tanyth felt the knives of fever and rejoiced. “Yes.”

  With the help of Sadie’s strong arms, she lifted enough to sip at the cup that Sadie held to her lips. It tasted awful. The bitterness puckered her tongue but it felt like the swelling in her mouth was going down. She drank as much as she could and then pulled her head back to breathe. “Tell Thomas. The house with rabbits.” She leaned back into the mug and finished the bitter draught before Sadie laid her back down, pulling the warm covers up to her chin even as the fever’s trembling started pulling her strength. She closed her eyes, and started the slow slide down.

  Amber’s voice came from the hearth. “Is she still talking about rabbits?”

  Sadie’s voice answered with a sigh. “Yes. Something about the house with rabbits and tell Thomas.”

  Tanyth heard Amber sigh before the darkness pulled her down once more and for once, her sleep was dreamless.

  The smell of rabbit stew woke her. She blinked her eyes open to see late afternoon light. “Thank you, Mother.” It was less prayer than a whisper but it got an instant response.

  “She’s awake again.” It was Sadie’s voice.

  Tanyth turned to see Sadie rising from the table even as Megan poured hot water into the teapot.

  “How are you doing, mum?” Sadie frowned in concern.

  Tanyth smiled tentatively. “I seem to be alive. I’m counting that on the plus side.”

  She saw Sadie’s face relax. “Oh, mum. Welcome back.” Her voice was filled with relief and she beamed a smile at Megan. She picked up a mug and crossed to the cot. “Here’s some water, mum. You must be thirsty.”

  She nodded gratefully and was even well enough to sit up mostly on her own. Sadie held the mug for her and she sipped at it, moistening lips and tongue, resting, then doing it again. At the touch of water her body almost betrayed her and tried to gulp it down, but she resisted and sipped. There’d be more.

  “Thank you, Sadie.” She smiled up at her. “Is that rabbit stew I smell?”

  A worried frown creased Sadie’s face. “Yes, mum. Rabbit.”

  “Good. Did you feed some to the raven?”

  “The raven, mum?”

  “The raven. She likes rabbits to eat. Dead ones, of course.”

  Sadie’s face turned from concern to alarm and she looked to Megan who rushed over to the cot.

  “You mustn’t concern yourself with that, mum.” Megan’s voice was soft and soothing and her hands fluttered helplessly at the top of the blankets, pulling them up, tucking them in, patting them down. “You need to get well.”

  Tanyth looked from one concerned face to the other and frowned in concentration. “Listen to me, ladies. This is important. I am not mad–at least, I don’t think so–and I am not ravin’.” She took a breath to see them look at her with matching startled impressions. “Well, perhaps a bit.” She paused to smile at them. “There is a raven that lives in the big spruce tree west of the village. That raven saved my life. She likes to eat rabbits. I owe her a few. If you would ask Thomas to take a winter hare and leave the carcass in the grass behind my house? Don’t dress it. Just the dead rabbit?” She looked from one face to another. “Think of it as an offering to the All-Mother if that helps.”

  They shared a quick glance before Sadie turned back to her. “In the snow, mum?”

  “Snow?”

  “Leave it in the snow?”

  “Is there snow? When did it snow?” Tanyth asked.

  “Two days ago, mum. The day after the Solstice, the afternoon of the day we found you.”

  Tanyth grunted in surprise. “I thought you just found me this morning!”

  The two younger women shook their heads. “No, mum, you’ve been layin’ there sleepin’ off and on for a couple days now.” She paused uncertainly. “Every once in a while you’d wake up, tell us about rabbits, and then go back to sleep.”

  Tanyth barked a laugh but pain chopped it off. There was still too much left to heal to be laughing loudly. “And you thought I’d gone mad?”

  The look they shared was painted with guilt and she laughed again, if more gently.

  “I’m fine, my dears.” She paused. “At least I think so.” She
looked back and forth between them. “Yes, on the snow is fine and only one rabbit for now. Think of it as an offering to the All-Mother. Just tell Thomas.”

  They shared a dubious glance but nodded to her.

  “Where’s Frank?”

  Sadie cocked her head at Tanyth. “Frank’s probably working on the Inn. He’s stopped by every day to find out how you’re doing but we don’t let him in.”

  She frowned. “Why not?”

  Sadie covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a laugh and Megan looked horrified. “Oh, gods, mum! That wouldn’t be quite proper now would it? Man like that visiting a woman while she’s bed-ridden?”

  Sadie was shaking with suppressed laughter. She got it under control at Megan’s sharp look. “Besides, mum. You’ll wanna get cleaned up a bit before he comes to call. Brush your hair, wash your face.” She grinned slyly. “You’ll not want him to see you like that.”

  Tanyth snickered. “I don’t think the condition of my hair will be anywhere near as shockin’ as the bruises on my face, do you?”

  Sadie gave a little shrug but nodded in acknowledgement. “Probably true, mum. You do look a little worse for wear.”

  Tanyth smiled and gave a small nod of acknowledgement of her own. “I’m sure, but I’d like to thank him for dragging me out of that hole.” She looked back and forth between them. “Next time he comes, please let him in?”

  They both nodded, Megan somewhat reluctantly. “Well at least let us clean you up a bit, mum?”

  “Oh, yes, that would be lovely! Please?”

  For half an hour they fussed over her, washing her face and hands with hot water, lavender soap, and a soft cloth. They even took a brush to her hair. All the activity reminded Tanyth of the small tins on the mantle board and she had Sadie and Megan each take one.

  “I’m a little late, but Happy Solstice and may the new year bring your hearts’ desire.”