Wren and the Ravens

by Eric Buffington

  “Ah, the infamous Wren,” the Sturgeon said with labored breath. “Tell me, is this business or pleasure then?”

  “A little of both,” Wren answered. He watched the injured man carefully, looking for any hint of movement or subtle positioning that might indicate a counter attack.

  “I assume this means my men are dead,” the Sturgeon said.

  Wren nodded.

  The Sturgeon puffed air and shook his head. “He was just telling me about your nest destruction speech,” he said as he indicated the dead watch commander with a point of his chin. “I guess he should have realized you would try to follow.”

  “You should pick your friends more carefully,” Wren suggested.

  “It’s so hard to find good help these days,” the Sturgeon said with a shake of his head.

  Wren moved a couple steps in, preparing to deliver the killing blow, but just as he stepped forward, the Sturgeon pointed his right hand at Wren and there was a strange clicking sound. Wren barely managed to spin out of the way as a small bolt came tearing through the air at him, catching the side of his shirt before slamming into the wall. Wren used his spin to send his sword flying at the Sturgeon in response. The Sturgeon was in the middle of rolling away when the sword caught his side. He cried out and pointed his left hand at Wren, firing another hidden bolt.

  Wren leapt toward the armchair on his right, somersaulting behind it and pulling two throwing knives.

  “Let me know who I should thank for sending you here,” the Sturgeon shouted. “I’ll have to repay them for the honor of killing the famous Wren.”

  Wren smiled. The Sturgeon was tricky, but nowhere near as skilled as some of Wrens most dangerous past targets. Wren turned around and kicked the chair with all of his strength, sending it crashing into the Sturgeon, who stumbled as he tried to catch it. Wren then threw both throwing knives. One caught the Sturgeon just below the left clavicle, the other hit his left bicep.

  The Sturgeon grunted and staggered backward, then tripped over Eryd’s legs and hit the floor. A third hidden crossbow bolt flew out of the Sturgeon’s sleeve and slammed into the ceiling. Wren rushed forward, picked up his sword once more, and then plunged it into the Sturgeon’s heart. The Merrynian spy was dead.

  Wren wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and then looked around. He decided it was best not to try and stage anything in the room. With dead bodies outside, and Eryd and the Sturgeon both dead inside, it was unnecessary. He thought of placing the telltale brown feather on the Sturgeon’s body, but then ultimately decided not to, thinking it might be better to not take credit for this one.

  He gathered his weapons and then took a moment to look around; the secrets of a rival could prove useful. He went to the desk and pulled out the top drawer. He found only a few vague notes and half-drawn maps designed to distract novice investigators. Wren closed the drawer and moved toward the outer wall of the room, tapping it methodically with his knuckles until he came to a hollow-sounding spot. Wren ran his fingers along the wall until he found small, nearly imperceptible crevices that outlined the hidden door in the wall. Knowing it could be booby-trapped, he drew an X over the spot with his dagger and then moved back across the room and fired a crossbow at it. The bolt shattered through a thin plank of wood, revealing the secret compartment in the wall along with a small stack of what appeared to be letters. Fortunately, no traps had been sprung.

  Wren walked back to the compartment and used the tip of his knife to unfold the letters and turn them over. After all, Wren wasn’t the only assassin who could use contact poison. No need to take unnecessary risks. He scanned the contents of the top two letters, each contracts of little consequence to Wren, but he stopped at the third letter.

  It was signed by Master Driscal. Wren’s heart pounded in his chest and he bent closer to read each word. What had the master wizard wanted with the Sturgeon?

  Forgive the short notice, but it has come to my attention that some very important files are in the military offices in the town of Ryr. I need you to confiscate them. It would not be good for either of us if they are brought to light by honorable men. I will send the usual payment.

  Many thanks,

  Master Driscal

  Wren chewed his lower lip and thought back to the adolescent bumblers who had fallen under his wing. Had they stumbled upon one of Sturgeon’s operations to cover up the master wizard’s involvement in the war? The last Wren had heard, Master Driscal had not been in these parts for many years, but this letter raised other possibilities.

  The assassin cast aside all caution and snatched the letter, quickly stuffing it into a pocket. Then he slipped out through the front door. A few people noticed him, but he was still wearing the town guard uniform, so no one stopped to stare. As quickly as he could, he made his way across town to the meeting place he had arranged with the group of teenagers.

  When he arrived dressed as a town guard, the four teenagers jumped and started to run away.

  “Hold still, it’s me,” Wren called out.

  Just as the group turned back around, the raven crowed loudly and swooped down in front of them before lighting upon Wren’s outstretched arm. “I have news!” Wren called out.

  Hunlok and Knell were the first to recognize him and quiet the others down.

  Wren approached quickly, fully intending to inform them about the letter, but he noticed that someone was missing. “There are only four of you, and I don’t see the item. What happened?”

  “Liden got arrested.”

  Wren emitted a sound that was something between a growl and a sigh of contempt. “The four of you get back to the cottage in the woods. I’ll get Liden.”

  Chapter 15

  Liden fell to his knees, gasping for breath when they finally got back to Wren’s home west of Kyt. The tall man was not at all out of breath, having ridden the entire way from Kyt while Liden ran to keep up. To add insult to injury, that annoying raven just crowed as if he were laughing at Liden while coming to a stop on a branch above. Wren fiddled with some lock mechanism before pushing open the door. He held out his hand and the raven drifted down to perch on his outstretched arm. That bird was really well trained!

  Wren took a few steps into the home before turning and speaking for the first time since rescuing Liden. “I hope you learned something today, Juggler.” Though it wasn’t a question, Liden felt the need to respond.

  “I didn’t mean for things to happen this way.”

  Wren didn’t seem to acknowledge Liden’s partial explanation, and instead turned his back on the boy and headed to his own room. “We’re leaving in an hour. You’ll repay your debt to me in Dreshire.” He lifted his hand and the raven flapped its wings gliding across the room to the kitchen area.

  Liden climbed to his feet and stepped inside the cottage. “What are you talking…”

  Slam! The door shut behind him, leaving Liden alone in the entry hall. He held his hand to his head and staggered forward, legs like jelly. This business with Wren was easily the worst part of their journey so far. Dreshire was a city he had heard about only a few times. It was somewhere in the northern kingdom of Merryn; he didn’t even know where. He couldn’t go there!

  “Liden!” Knell rushed out of her quarters with Sarta. “You’re safe! We were so worried!” She threw her arms around him. He gave her a quick hug before he dropped his arms back to his sides again. Just moving them to hug Knell felt like he was lifting waterlogged fence posts. “What happened?”

  He nodded his head toward Wren’s door. “After I was caught in Kyt they put me and the alchemist in the dungeon. Wren got me out. He also grabbed the potion we were supposed to steal.”

  “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. She had put things together quickly. “What does he want from us now?”

  Liden started walking to the kitchen. “We need to gather the others.” He didn’t want to explain everything to his friend, let alone share it twice, but he also wasn’t sure how long he could stay on his feet. While
he waited for his friends to gather, the raven hopped across the countertop, picking up some breadcrumbs and leftovers they hadn’t fully cleaned up. No wonder Wren liked that bird; it obeyed him without question, cleaned up his house, and it didn’t cost him anything.

  When they were all together, and Liden was sitting down, he still hesitated to speak. How was he going to tell them that his failure to get away from the alchemist had thrown them into a debt that would take them into Merryn? They were almost the entire way across the country. It would be a short journey to get to Zulholm from here, and now they were going to head in the opposite direction.

  “Spit it out!” Sarta said, impatient for him to share the news. “You got caught, Wren saved you, now what?”

  Hunlok and Debir looked unsurprised by this news, but leaned forward in their seats to hear the story.

  “Wren saved me from the dungeon and retrieved the potion we were supposed to take. He forced me to run all the way here from Kyt while he rode, and his stupid, perfect bird,” he pointed at the raven that was perched nearby, “harassed me the whole way. When we arrived he told me to get ready because we’re all leaving in an hour to head to Dreshire.”

  Debir raised his hand and pressed it into his forehead. “Dreshire! We can’t go there. It’s in Merryn! That’s the wrong side of the Serpent Tongue River, hundreds of miles from here!”

  “He can’t seriously expect us to go with him,” Hunlok added.

  “Besides,” Sarta cut in, “why would he want us? We botched that last job like a horse dumping on a toy doll.” The conversation stopped and everyone turned to look at her. “What? It’s a saying.”

  “No it really isn’t,” Liden responded. Then trying to get them refocused he continued. “So we don’t have a lot of choices.”

  “As I see it, we have only one choice,” Hunlok replied. “We go with Wren and repay our debt.” He stood up and started rolling up his stuff and putting it into his travel pack.

  “Just hold on.” Liden raised his hands up and continued in a quiet voice. “We don’t have to do this. We could…”

  “What?” Knell cut him off. She stood up and started pacing in the room. “What could we do? Run away, dragging your sorry bones back to Kyt, a place where you have been broken out of jail? Then what? Somehow make some money while hiding from the authorities so we can have supplies to get us to Zulholm? We still don’t know who is chasing us from Ryr. We’ve already gone over this! I’m not going to live my life looking over my shoulder, waiting to get stabbed in the back! No! We’re going north, we’ll do whatever he asks, then we’ll be done with it!”

  “I agree,” Sarta said, folding her arms across her chest. “If we’re with Wren, he’ll keep us fed and alive.”

  “And in servitude,” Liden added.

  “Why are you so upset?” Sarta asked, stepping into the conversation. “He did break you out of the dungeon.” Everyone ignored Sarta. She didn’t really have a vote in what they were going to do.

  Debir shook his head decidedly. “The plan to go east was always about being free. We wanted to make our own way in the world, have our own adventure, decide our own fate. If we hitch ourselves to him, we have no say or control over where we go, or what he asks us to do.”

  “That was before you saw the robbery,” Knell added, trying to emphasize her point.

  Debir nodded a little, conceding the point, but still held his ground. “The first thing he asked of us was to steal, what’s next? What wouldn’t he ask us to do in enemy territory? If we say ‘no’ when we’re there, he’ll just leave us behind. Then what? He’s helped us hone our circus skills. If we head to Zulholm now, maybe we will have a chance to win at the festival.”

  “What do you say?” Hunlok asked Liden. “If you want to run, we’ll follow you.” Knell nodded her head. Sarta shook her head back and forth and even stuck out her tongue at him.

  “If you want to go north, I’ll follow you,” Debir added.

  He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to go with Wren; the last trip got him thrown into a dungeon and dragged mercilessly back through the woods to this strange ‘safe house.’ Everything Debir said was true, but on the other hand, it was all speculative. Knell and Hunlok were right. No guess work necessary. They had a debt to pay and the quickest and most straight forward way to get it paid off was to go north. It also kept them safe from whoever was chasing Debir and Hunlok, for a while at least.

  Liden opened his eyes and looked at Debir. “When I first got here I was so frustrated, I just wanted to run in the opposite direction of this place. I’ll likely want to do that again before the trip is over, but I think we need to go with him.” He waited a long moment.

  Debir quickly shrugged and started packing his things. “Better get going,” he said over his shoulder, “not much time left.” He couldn’t tell if Debir was upset, or just very serious about packing, but as usual, he was right. Liden grabbed his travel pack and started getting it ready for the trip.

  Within an hour, the group was packed, ready to go, and waiting in the entrance. Wren came out of his quarters and tossed a sack at Liden.

  “Until we have a pack mule,” he said with a nod of his head.

  Liden wanted to throw the pack down on the ground and tell the man to carry it himself, but he couldn’t actually imagine anyone talking to Wren like that, least of all himself. He swallowed his anger and strapped the pack over his shoulder.

  “You packed the things I gave you?” Wren said. It was more of a statement than a question, but everyone nodded. Without another word, he lifted his hand and the raven immediately flew over and perched on his shoulder. He walked past the group and pushed open the door leading out of the cottage. Liden looked at the faces of his friends and tried to hide his own frustration. He reminded himself that they were following him, not the cold man who gave more consideration to a bird than them.

  The next few days were spent trekking north to a little known mountain pass at Wren’s traveling pace. That meant he was navigating by horseback and everyone else was expected to keep up. The good news was that this particular pass would get them into Merryn without needing to ford the Serpent Tongue River, but since it wasn’t a widely used path, it was difficult to keep pace. At least Wren didn’t kick his horse into a canter, or ever let himself get too far ahead, but it still felt like they were in some kind of a mad rush. It was like he was pushing them as fast as they could go while always making sure they knew they were within his reach. It didn’t help that the raven would circle above them, crowing loudly whenever they started to fall behind. Each night around the campfire, Wren brought out food that he shared with everyone. The food was much better than the dried strips of meat they had taken with them from Ryr, but him having all the food was another way he kept them completely dependent on him. The entire way through the mountain pass, Liden felt like he was just a little off balance, as if any semblance of control he had had when he made the choice to stay with Wren was taken away. After eating each night they practiced some more of the acrobatics and tricks Wren taught them until it was too dark to safely practice any longer, then they collapsed into whatever sleep they could get before they were woken up to spend another day hiking. He didn’t know exactly why, but he felt relieved when they came out of the mountain pass and again had hills sprawling out in front of them as far as they could see. Debir also breathed a little easier and relaxed his shoulders as if he was easing a burden off his back.

  “There he goes again!” Sarta said, pointing out to the north and west.

  “Are you kidding me?” Debir threw his arms up in the air. “If he wanted to cross the country in a week, why didn’t he buy us all horses? I think he likes his bird better than he likes us.”

  “Of course he does,” Hunlok responded with a shrug. “The bird is able to keep up with him. We’re just slowing him down.”

  Liden leaned against a tree and dropped his second pack. “Maybe if we slow
him down enough, he’ll just leave us behind.”

  “If he is going to leave us behind, I wish he’d do that before we get into Merryn,” Debir added.

  A black speck took flight from Wren’s shoulder and spun around to dart over the group. The raven spun a circle around them, cawing until Liden picked up his pack again and they started moving, then it soared off back to its master. “I guess that’s our answer. I swear, that’s the best trained bird I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “I want one,” Sarta announced. She held her arm out the way Wren did to summon the bird. “Couldn’t you see us with a trained bird?” she asked Hunlok.

  Hunlok scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion and shook his head. “No.”

  “Okay,” she said with a shrug. “I guess we’ll just have dogs.”

  “That’s not what I meant!” Hunlok tried to protest, but she trotted ahead, ignoring him. The poor guy was trying to resist and ignore her, but Liden could see Sarta either wearing him down, or growing on him. Either way it wouldn’t be long before she had him stating his vows and building her a house.

  Through the day, Liden wanted to enjoy the open space, but Wren kept them moving the entire time. He stayed ahead of them, almost at the brink of where they could no longer see him, and if they fell behind, the bird would fly back and squawk at them like an army general shouting orders to pick up the pace. What could possibly be the rush?

  About an hour before the sun was going to hit the horizon, Wren’s silhouette began to grow in the distance. Liden raised his hand to shade the sunlight, but it was difficult to see much at this distance. From what he could tell, Wren had stopped, and there was another person with him.

  “Well I guess that answers one question,” Knell said as she dropped her hand from her forehead. “He had a planned meeting with someone.”

  “I guess he didn’t want to be late.” Hunlok rolled his shoulders and readjusted his pack. “It looks like there might be a wagon or something. I think he’s getting a ride for us.”