Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1)

by Alan Ratcliffe

  “Three hours, I was starting to worry if you would wake at all.” Brother Merryl sounded fretful. “The Archon was carried to his chambers by the giant servant of his, and recovered more swiftly. In fact, he seemed in remarkably good spirits as he accompanied Elder Tobias to the Great Hall for his welcome feast. He enquired after your health, so I returned here to keep watch until you woke.”

  A nagging feeling tugged at Cole’s mind as he lay on his cot, listening to the faint sounds of the festivities carrying across the courtyard. Every time he thought he had laid hands on it, the feeling dissipated like morning mist.

  Mist. He felt a memory surface then. With the end of the thread in his grasp, he was able to pull upon it. Not so fast that he would lose it again. Slowly but surely, he felt the memories flow back. Cole’s eyes widened. He lurched upright, and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Brother Merryl was aghast. “Lay down, Cole,” he begged. “You’ve had a terrible shock and must rest.”

  Before he could argue, Cole felt his head swimming. He crashed back down on to the mattress. “Please,” he groaned.

  “What is this all about?”

  Cole clutched his temples, trying to quell the tumult building there. “Archon...”

  “What about him?”

  Cole squirmed onto his side, and grabbed Merryl’s robe tightly. He had to make him understand. “You... have to... he...”

  Brother Merryl wrenched Cole’s hands from his robe. “I think perhaps I should seek out Brother Burdock,” he announced, standing. “A concoction to help you sleep, perhaps.”

  He slipped from the room, and Cole heard the sound of his sandals slapping along the passageway.

  “Please,” he croaked despairingly at the closed door. “He... he’s not what he seems.”

  * * *

  It was a banquet unlike any the Crag had seen in over a decade. Servants had spent a fortnight preparing the Great Hall in readiness for the Archon’s visit, cleaning away the cobwebs and layers of dust. Every bench had been polished until the wood gleamed. The enormous hearths standing at each end of the hall had been lit. The air around them shimmered with the heat.

  Every Brother, novice and initiate in the keep was present, bar Merryl and Cole. Indeed, it would have been a near-impossible task to keep any away from an occasion that had held the entire keep in a state of eager anticipation for the past week. Dozens of them lined the benches, their ranks bolstered by a score from the Archon’s party. To his dismay, the elder’s well-stocked wine cellar had even been breached to mark the occasion, and beer and mead flowed generously along every bench.

  If there was a slight pall cast over an otherwise convivial atmosphere, it stemmed from the oddly standoffish attitude of many of the visitors. As festivities began, a number of the Crag’s Brothers had tried to open dialogue with their counterparts from the Archon’s party, only to be either politely rebuffed or ignored entirely, until such attempts were abandoned. As the evening approached its end a state of uneasy truce existed between the two groups, though the flow of alcohol ensured that any grudges were, if not forgiven, then at least temporarily forgotten.

  Caspian, seated near to the hall’s great double doors, felt sad that Cole would miss the festivities; the Crag’s cooks had excelled themselves in stark contrast to their efforts at breakfast, and course after course was greeted with a hearty roar as it was carried in atop heaped, steaming platters.

  Upon a raised dais that ran the length of one side of the hall stood the top table. Seated at its head, in a place of honour, the Archon cast a benign eye over the proceedings. Elder Tobias sat to his right, befitting his station as master of the college, while the hulking figure of Dantes stood silently a few steps behind, half-hidden in shadow.

  “I must apologise again for the events of this afternoon, Archon,” Elder Tobias burbled muzzily. While he had reluctantly allowed the contents of his cellar to be shared to help mark the occasion, he had ensured that all the best vintages were reserved for the top table.

  “Please, I assure you that it is already forgotten,” the Archon replied genially.

  “It is good of you to say, Archon. Brother Merryl’s work with the boy had been progressing so well.” He gestured vaguely with his goblet, slopping purple wine across the table. “Blast,” he muttered.

  The Archon smiled at his host’s evident intoxication. “What I saw was impressive. It definitely warrants further investigation.”

  “Oh, I am so pleased to hear you say that, my lord,” the elder simpered. “If the boy is recovered, perhaps we could try again tomorrow.” His face darkened. “Of course, I wouldn’t put it past him to have been the cause. If I find out-”

  “Please,” the Archon said placatingly. “It is not necessary. What happened, happened. As for resuming the demonstration tomorrow, I suspect this will not be possible.”

  The elder frowned in confusion, but decided not to press the point. “That aside, my lord, how have you found your return to our little corner of the Empire?”

  The Archon smiled. “Enlightening. In many ways, the academy has hardly changed since my days as a novice within these walls. In others,” he waved towards the pennants that hung around the walls of the hall, displaying a green star set on a field of purple, “it has progressed impressively.”

  Elder Tobias practically glowed with pride. “Well, we try to adhere to the tenets of the Order in all things.”

  “Indeed.” The Archon patted the elder’s shoulder. “It is important that we lead by example. Where we march, the world will follow.”

  The elder nodded sagely. “And Emperor Maximilien, he fares well?”

  “It gives me great pleasure to report that His Imperial Excellency is both hale and hearty, with the vim and vigour of a man a third his age. No doubt he will live to see us all in the ground.”

  “It must please him to see such a magnificent construction as the Spire rising up within the walls of the imperial city,” the elder observed.

  “Indeed, His Excellency has taken a personal interest in its progress, and he is not alone. The streets of Ehrenburg rejoice to see this monument of the Empire’s pre-eminence nearing completion. It is a sight unmatched anywhere in the world.”

  A sudden thought occurred to the elder. “Perhaps you would make a toast, my lord? I know my Brothers would be inspired by hearing you speak.”

  The Archon grinned and clapped his hands together loudly, startling several of the revellers sitting nearby. “A capital idea!” he exclaimed.

  He rose to his feet. One by one the Brothers and novices fell quiet, the clamour fading by degrees a low hum and finally silence.

  The Archon surveyed the hall, smiling. “My Brothers,” he called out, in a voice accustomed to public speaking. “I am honoured that a humble visitor like myself has been welcomed in such a fashion. Our Order has set out to illuminate the path for the rest of the world to follow, and truly your hospitality is an example to us all.” This was greeted with several cheers.

  “Many of you are new to our Order and have been brought up according to the Tenets of Enlightenment. This is as it should be. Many more of you wore the robes of the Divine Brotherhood before our eyes were opened to the role we must play in the advancement of mankind. I myself was one such. Some of you may even hold doubt in your hearts.” Many heads were shaken, and one or two loud ‘no’s’ and ‘for shame’s’ rang out across the hall.

  The Archon raised a hand to restore calm. “A period of adjustment is to be expected. It is not so long ago that we walked a different path, before I divined our true purpose... if you will forgive the expression.” He grinned broadly as a smattering of nervous laughter went up from those assembled. “But the time for indecision is over. We must be bold, and take our first united step on the path to the new dawn. We are the vanguard of a new age for humanity! We are the guardians of the light, shining a beacon into the darkest corners and chasing away the shadows of ignorance. Our truth will shape the new world. We are the future!”


  The cheers and applause that greeted this speech was deafening. After a few moments, the Archon raised both hands, and silence fell once again.

  “My Brothers,” he continued, “a toast!” He reached down for his goblet, and raised it high. Others followed suit, and soon the hall was a sea of upraised arms.

  “To enlightenment!” The Archon bellowed. “That the days of man will never again grow dark. To truth, that all may know our wisdom and rejoice.” Several novices took this as their cue and quaffed their drinks, to the chagrin of their seniors. “And to the dread Lord Maldonus, whose dark dominion we live to serve: we, the harbingers of his glorious return.”

  In the confused hubbub that followed this last proclamation, few of the assembled brethren noticed a number of brown-robed figures rise from the benches and slink to the outskirts of the hall.

  His toast concluded, the Archon drained his goblet, and slammed it down upon the table. He sat down, smiling jovially. Elder Tobias was agape. “I beg your pardon?”

  The Archon started laughing, and one or two Brothers chuckled amongst themselves. Clearly the head of their Order, in his cups no doubt, had seen fit to play a prank. “I really am terribly sorry,” he said finally.

  The elder relaxed slightly. “A most amusing toast, I agree Archon, but I hardly think-”

  “Yes, I am most sorry,” the Archon interrupted. “I was speaking the truth when I said you had made impressive progress with the boy, but I’m afraid I must relieve you of the burden of continuing with this work.”

  “My lord?” The elder did not understand what he was hearing. “It is no burden, I assure you. Brother Merryl believes we are coming closer to understanding-”

  “Nevertheless, it is time to put an end to this,” said the Archon, smoothly cutting across the elder once more. “All of it, in fact. Alas, I fear your progress has been rather too impressive, Tobias, but what’s done is done. I just hope the boy hasn’t developed too far to be of use. But I can be more certain of that after he returns with me to the Spire.”

  “Take Cole?” The elder’s face flushed, and not only due to the wine. The Archon’s toast and subsequent words had sobered him like a splash of cold water. “For what purpose?”

  The Archon smiled. “Be assured, elder, nothing that you need be concerned with.” He rose from his seat. “Now, as diverting as this evening has been, we must bring it to a close. And even though you and your colleagues have outlived your usefulness, I really am grateful for all your hard work. I hope that is of some comfort to you during what follows.”

  As Elder Tobias looked on in mute astonishment, the Archon took hold of the green gem hanging from the thick silver chain around his neck. With his other arm outstretched, his eyes screwed shut in concentration.

  The elder felt a slight twinge of pain inside his skull, and several Brothers on the benches were rubbing their heads with surprised expressions. But the sensation passed a moment later. Whatever the Archon had been intending, it had obviously not occurred. Abruptly, his eyes flew open and he stared around the hall, radiating confusion. “Fascinating,” he muttered.

  Every pair of eyes in the hall was fixed on the top table, most wide open in shock. Elder Tobias climbed unsteadily to his feet and smoothed down his robe. “I think that it is high time you left, my lord. I don’t know whether this is a cruel jest at our expense, or if you have actually taken leave of your senses, but in either case I think this visit has run its course.”

  He sensed movement behind him. The gigantic form of Dantes lumbered into the light.

  “Nonsense, the night is only just beginning.” The Archon clicked his fingers. “We’ll just have to try more traditional methods.” With an ominous whisper of steel on leather, one of the Brothers from his party drew a longsword out from the folds of his robe and tossed it toward the top table. Metal fingers snatched it out of the air.

  The giant sliced the blade through the air a few times, testing its weight. The grotesque mask nodded once with approval. Then the mechanical hand and the sword it grasped began to spin. Slowly at first, then gathering speed.

  A commotion broke out as Brothers and novices around the hall leapt to their feet, panic in their eyes, sending platters and half-filled goblets flying. One of the younger boys began to bawl.

  At a signal from the Archon, the other robed figures spread out around the hall drew out swords of their own. The elder fell to his knees beside the Archon. “Please, lord,” he begged. “I-”

  The giant’s metal arm swept down. With a gush of blood, the elder’s head flew from his shoulders. It landed in the nearest hearth in a puff of ash. Moments later, the stench of burned hair and roasting flesh filled the air.

  There was a heavy thud as the doors of the Great Hall were barred. Then the slaughter began in earnest.

  * * *

  As the first scream shattered the stillness of the night, Cole sat up on his bed with a jolt. Only a few seconds had passed when he heard the sound of running feet outside his door. Before he could stand, Brother Merryl barrelled into the room, his face a sickly grey pallor.

  “Cole, can you walk?” the old man demanded. Outside, the sounds of battle carried across the courtyard.

  “Yes... I think so.” Cole was already beginning to feel better. He swung his legs to the end of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. He swayed slightly as he stood, but did not fall.

  “Good,” said Merryl, opening the door. “We must leave, now.”

  “What’s happening?”

  Merryl shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just as I reached the doors to the Great Hall, I heard shouts, and then screams. We are under attack, that much is clear, but I cannot say by whom. I returned here as fast as I could.”

  An old cloak hung by his bed. Cole grabbed it and threw it hurriedly around his shoulders as they stole from the room. Merryl hesitated, glancing up and down the corridor. They could still hear the fight raging on nearby, but so far it seemed contained within the Great Hall.

  Satisfied that they were alone, Merryl hurried in the direction of the main gates, Cole at his heels.

  “Where are we going?” he whispered.

  “To the dock, it is the only way,” the old man hissed back.

  “What?” Cole was appalled. “I am no craven. Flee if you must, I cannot leave my Brothers behind to be slaughtered!”

  Brother Merryl’s hand darted out as he turned to leave, and fastened onto his cloak. “If we go back, child, then we die. I cannot wield a sword and you can barely walk. There is nothing we can do. We must go, and bring aid if we can.”

  Cole stared across the courtyard to the closed double doors of the hall, his jaw tight. Even now, the sound of fighting was lessening. Merryl began to shuffle away. Reluctantly, Cole followed, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

  They stumbled along darkened corridors and galleries, moving as fast as age and injury would allow. As they neared the gatehouse, Merryl pressed himself into a shadow along one wall, and gestured for Cole to do the same. He raised a finger to his lips.

  Cole risked a peek around the corner of the wall they were huddled against. The outlines of two men were visible in the torchlight of the gatehouse. He heard a murmur of voices, but was unable to make out what was said. Friend or foe? he wondered.

  The old man had clearly had the same thought. “We must assume they mean us ill,” he said. He broke away from the wall, beckoning Cole to follow.

  “What now?”

  “To the solar,” Merryl replied. “There is a secret stair that leads to the dock. It will be perilous in the dark, but I see no other choice.”

  They had to double back part of the way they had come, until they found a flight of steps leading to the ramparts. “If we’re careful, this should bring us there safely,” Merryl explained.

  The ramparts ran the whole length of the curtain wall. They would be exposed to any eyes within the courtyard that chanced to look up, but luck was on their side; the night was overcast
, the moon and stars hidden behind banks of cloud. Brother Merryl was right, if they were careful, there was a chance they would not be spotted.

  Once they reached the wall, they proceeded in silence. As they hoped, the way was clear, and a short time later they reached the walkway that skirted the upper storey of the gatehouse.

  Taking care to not step into the torchlight, Cole peered down toward the main gate. The two guards he had seen before still stood sentry.

  Just then, across the courtyard, the doors of the Great Hall opened and dark, cowled figures spilled out, silhouetted by the light of the fires within. Even at this distance, Cole could see they were armed. Barked instructions rang out, and the shadows scattered. Half a dozen trotted towards the Hall of Novices.

  “Come, we must make haste,” Brother Merryl whispered urgently.

  They continued on, as silently as they could. Soon, the gatehouse was behind them, and before long they had reached another flight of steps. “Down, quickly,” Merryl hissed. “This should bring us near to the solar gate. I fear we have tarried too long already.”

  Cole bounded down the steps, Merryl close behind. The old man was breathing hard after their flight across the keep.

  “There!” Cole spotted the open portcullis, beyond which lay the bridge to the solar. It already seemed like a hundred years since he and the old man last crossed it, though it had actually been but a scant week earlier.

  No sooner had Brother Merryl reached the ground than there was a shout behind them. Cole’s heart leapt into his throat. He turned to see two robed figures rushing along the corridor towards them, brandishing swords.

  “Hurry, boy, through the gate!” Cole felt a shove at his back, and he leapt through the opening. He heard the old man’s sandals slapping on the flagstones behind him.

  Their pursuers were less than forty feet away when Merryl limped through the gateway, feeling every one of his seventy summers in his joints. The instant he was through, Cole pulled a lever set into the wall. Chains flew up into the brickwork with an ear-splitting screech and the portcullis dropped with a crash. The winch to raise it again was hidden in a small alcove nearby, on the other side of the arch, and he hoped it would take their pursuers a while to discover it.