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

by Alan Ratcliffe

  “I heard he was a ship’s captain,” Dorric piped up.

  “And do I live in a big manor house, then?” Captain Brandt said with a laugh. “More like he was a ship owner, and occasionally travelled on board one of his vessels.”

  “Most like,” Jan agreed. “For that’s what happened on this one fateful day. He was sailing down this very stretch of coast, when a sudden squall become a colossal storm, the likes of which have never been seen before or since. Those that saw it thought the sky would tear itself apart. Waves as tall as these cliffs battered the ship, until there was nothing left but matchwood.”

  Caspian shivered as he thought about their own narrow escape from the storm. “What happened then?”

  “The Lady had seen the storm from her manor house, and knowing that her husband was at sea was already fretting. Then, when word reached her of the shipwreck, she ran out into the rain and raced for the cliffs as fast as the wind. These very cliffs above us now.”

  At that moment, a fork of lightning crackled across the dark clouds and lit up the sky. Wind howled across the mouth of the cave. The flames dimmed momentarily, before flickering back to life.

  “When she stood on the cliffs, looking down upon the sea, the wreckage of her husband’s ship was still being tossed between the waves. They say her screams of anguish were heard all the way back in the town, and mothers crossed themselves with the sign of the Divine when they heard it.”

  “Poor woman,” said Caspian. “Did she see her husband?”

  “There was no sign, but when she saw the wreckage she knew he was lost. Unable to contain her grief, she threw herself from the cliffs onto the rocks below. Unfortunately, she didn’t look down before jumping.”

  Jan paused, as he leaned forward, and tested again whether the meat was cooked through. Caspian found himself holding his breath as he waited for the sailor to settle himself back against the rock. Eventually, he continued, “If she’d a had, she would have seen her husband washed up on the shore, right there, outside this cave.” He pointed into the darkness outside. “He was still alive, just barely. They say that in her last moment, their eyes met one last time.”

  The bottle had made its way to him again, so Jan took a long draught. “To this day, if you walk among these cliffs and caves, you can hear The Lady calling out, looking for her lost love. That’s why this part of the coast is called The Whispers. If you’re quiet, you can probably hear her now.”

  Jan fell silent, and Caspian strained his ears. Above the gentle crackling of the fire, right at the edge of his hearing, he thought he could make out another whisper. Caaaassssss...

  Without warning, Jan spat a stream of booze into the fire. The flames roared out in a sudden blast of heat. Caspian screamed and jumped to his feet. Jan howled with laughter, and even Captain Brandt smiled.

  “You scrub!” Caspian shouted, his eyes bulging. “Is any of that even true?”

  Captain Brandt stood, and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Settle down, lad. They do tell the legend of The Lady in these parts, and we are in The Whispers. As to whether it’s true, who can say?”

  “But the voice... I know I heard something, back there,” he pointed towards the rear of the cave.

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt that you did. Where do you think the name comes from?” He sat back down, as Dorric began to remove the roasted meat from the fire and pass it to the men seated around. “Personally, I think it’s because of the way the wind blows across all these holes. The rocks along this part of the coast are riddled with them, for some reason.” He glanced up at Caspian and raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed them.”

  * * *

  Hummmm

  Caspian’s eyes flew open in the darkness. A few glowing embers were all that remained of the fire, just enough for him to make out the slumbering shapes all around him.

  He’d been dreaming of home. Not the Crag, the place that he had thought of as home for most of his life, but the place he was born. He’d been back in the room above the weaver’s shop; a grown man this time, in place of the child he’d been the last time he’d seen it.

  They had all been there, his brothers, sister, mother and father, only they looked the same as they had the day he’d left. His mother was sat in a wooden chair by the cold, lifeless fireplace, face hidden in her hands, weeping. The children were comforting her, their backs turned to him, but his father stood up to face him as Caspian approached. His face was dark with fury. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  “I-I just w-wanted to come back, d-da,” he stammered. “I just w-want to come h-home.”

  His father, who he now noticed still towered over him, as he had when he was a child, marched up and shook a ham-sized fist in his face. “This is not your home. Begone!”

  Caspian trembled, but stood his ground. “I c-can’t go back, they’re all d-dead. I don’t w-want to be a-a-alone.”

  The force of the slap rocked his head to one side. His cheek burned. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to them?” his father bellowed.

  Caspian looked past his father to his mother and siblings by the fireplace. Slowly, his mother raised her head from her hands to stare at him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes were gone. In their place, the sockets burned with a sickly green glow. “No,” he gasped.

  “See?” his father growled, as Caspian’s brothers and sister turned to face him. Like his mother, their faces were bathed in the same green glow from their eyes. It made them appear deathly ill.

  His father’s ogre-sized head loomed back into his vision. “Find the black sun!” he commanded. “Go!”

  Caspian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned. His mother stood behind him, her eyes burning with green fire. “It’s time, Caspian,” she said, her voice coming from a great distance. “You must tell him. The sleeper wakes.”

  With that, he had woken. He was dimly aware that his sleeping brain had heard a noise, something out of place. Not the wind, nor the falling rain or the sound of the ocean. He lay still for several moments, listening.

  Whatever it was had fallen silent.

  Cautiously, he sat up. None of the others stirred; whatever he’d heard, it had not disturbed the sailors or their captain. Dorric was snoring, and he wondered if that is all it had been.

  Then he heard it again. Or rather, felt it. A low humming noise that made the rock floor vibrate ever so slightly beneath his fingertips.

  For a moment, he wondered if he was still asleep; whether he had passed from one dream to the next rather than waking. He considered prodding Jan, the nearest to him, but decided that was an unwise course of action. Besides, his mind was clear, with none of the strange-otherworldliness of dreams. Whatever the source of the noise was, it was here with them.

  Later, Caspian was not sure whether it was bravery or curiosity that brought him to his feet. But whichever it was he rose cautiously from the thin blanket that was serving, poorly, as a mattress.

  He turned his head from side to side in the darkness, gauging the direction of the sound. To his surprise, it seemed to be coming from the rear of the cave, where he had sat only the day before.

  Carefully, he felt his way along the passage, his left hand resting lightly on the cave wall. He could feel his fingertips brushing over the round indentations he had noticed before. As he passed one, he felt a breath of cold air brush his cheek with a soft sigh, but this time he ignored it. Whatever had stirred him from sleep was more real than Jan’s story of ghostly widows.

  A change in the pressure of the air in front of him told Caspian he had reached the back of the cave. He reached out a tentative hand and pressed it to the back wall. Perhaps it was the lack of sight, with his other senses compensating, but he instantly knew the rock was different to that of the walls; smoother, as if it had been carved rather than eroded by time and the elements. The vibration was stronger here also, his earlier guess proving correct.

  “It began an hour past.”

&nb
sp; At the sound of the voice, Caspian jumped like a startled cat. “W-who’s there?” he asked, backing away against the wall. When there was no reply, he squinted into the blackness, and saw the vague outline of a large figure. It was sitting so still he had at first thought it to be a part of the cave wall. “Sten?”

  The figure rose from the rock it had been sitting on, and joined him. Close to, the hulking frame of the stoic Southron was unmistakable. Sten reached out a hand, and ran it across the back wall.

  “There was no danger, so I let the others rest,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I kept watch.”

  Apparently exhausted by the speech, the longest Caspian had heard from him during the rest of the voyage put together, he lapsed back into silence.

  Caspian began feeling around the edge of the back wall, where it met the sides of the tunnel. “The rock here is different,” he said, his words greeted by a grunt of assent from the sailor. “And here, right at the edge... there is a gap of some kind.”

  Sten’s arm raised, and Caspian could hear him patting at the stone above their heads. He grunted again. “Strange.”

  Caspian stood back a pace. “The back wall... it is separate from the rest of the cave, I think.” He scratched his scalp, deep in thought. “Could it be a door?”

  His companion made no reply, but Caspian was gently pushed back a step. Sten’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on one side of the slab, and then he was pulling. His great back rippled with the strain, and he let out a growl of effort. Caspian held his breath as he watched the show of strength.

  Eventually, Sten ceased his efforts, having made no discernable difference to the back wall of the cave. “It is stuck,” he said, unnecessarily.

  Just then, they heard groans from the mouth of the cave. Sten’s failed attempt to shift the back wall had evidently woken the others. Jan was cursing, and Captain Brandt’s voice called out, “Is that you, lad?”

  “It’s me, captain,” Caspian called back. “I don’t know about no Lady, but there’s something strange about this cave. Bring a torch!”

  Less than a minute later, the six of them were gathered at the back of the cave, the torch in Dorric’s hand casting their large shadows onto the walls of the tunnel.

  This time, it was Captain Brandt’s turn to brush his hand down the rock face. “When you know what it is you’re looking for, it’s clear,” he said. “The tunnel grows smaller the deeper you go, but at the back it’s flat.” His eyes traced the outline of the wall. “Round, too.”

  “Has no-one noticed this before?” Caspian asked.

  “I’ve never had cause to go poking around the rear of these caves, this is just one of many along The Whispers,” Captain Brandt replied. “I doubt this wall has ever had more attention than it’s getting now from us.” He reached out, and rapped the rock with a knuckle. They all heard it.

  “Hollow,” said Jan under his breath.

  For a few moments they stood staring at the wall, bathed in flickering orange light from Dorric’s torch. Then, he piped up with the one question they had all been thinking. “What now, cap’n?”

  Captain Brandt rubbed his beard. “Well, I don’t know about you lads, but I think we should find out what’s on the other side.”

  Perhaps Sten’s first attempt had loosened it, Caspian was never sure. But after the six of them had grabbed a secure hold on the edge of the strange circular rock and heaved together, it rolled to one side with a hideous screech.

  Caspian took a step back and examined the wall. It hadn’t moved much, just enough for a man to squeeze past. Beyond lay an even thicker darkness. The smell of stale air reached his nose.

  Just as he was about to move towards the gap they had opened, Jan snatched the torch from Dorric’s unresisting hand, and fought his way in front. He was stopped by a large hand on his chest. “The boy found it,” a deep voice rumbled.

  With a venomous glance in his direction, Jan stood aside and passed Caspian the torch. He took a deep breath.

  “Are you sure, lad?” the captain asked.

  Caspian nodded and, before his nerve could fail him, he stepped into the blackness. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find, but he was disappointed nonetheless.

  Stretching away from him was another tunnel, as perfectly round as the door had been, tall enough for even Sten to be able to walk without having to stoop. The torch cast its light only a dozen feet, if that, and beyond its glow lay only darkness.

  “What do you see?”

  He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “A tunnel.”

  The others squeezed their way through the portal. “A mine, perhaps,” said Captain Brandt.

  “But why lock it away, why hide it from sight?” asked Nikolaj.

  “P’raps there’s gold,” suggested Dorric. “Or jools.”

  That silenced them. As they mulled over the idea of riches hidden away in the dark before them, Caspian turned to look at the door they had just passed through. He held the torch up and whistled. “Look at this,” he called to the others.

  Captain Brandt came up beside him and touched the door. “Metal,” he observed. “With a mechanism of some kind. It’s warm,” he said, after touching it.

  “I’m not sure how, but could be that was what was makin’ the noise that woke me and Sten,” said Caspian. Whatever it had been before, it hung limply now, lifeless. “I think we broke it.”

  Something on the ground caught his eye, and he knelt down in the dirt. An object lay half-buried just behind the door, and he carefully lifted it up and blew sand from it. Several long, thin strips of metal were banded together, while in the centre two ridged circles of the same metal dangled loosely.

  “What is it?” the captain asked.

  Caspian turned the object around in his hand. It was at the same time both entirely alien yet strangely familiar. “I think... it’s a finger,” he said finally.

  “A finger? From what? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  Caspian slipped the object into a pocket, and stood. “I have,” he said, “and only about a week ago.” He glanced ahead into the darkness, still nothing visible but the walls of the tunnel. “I don’t know what lies ahead, but I don’t think it’s gold or jewels.”

  Dorric repeated his earlier question. “So what do we do now?”

  Captain Brandt caught Caspian’s eye. Having spoken to him about the Archon’s manservant after they’d met at the Crag, he knew the significance of his find. There was really only one choice. “We go on,” the captain said. “We’ll be waiting a day or two yet to make sure the storm has passed, that’s enough time to poke our noses up here and satisfy our curiosity.”

  It was decided that Nikolaj and Dorric would remain on the beach, to watch the ship and get her ready to sail two days hence. The rest would investigate the tunnel that lay beyond the strange metal door. They went back to their makeshift camp to collect their weapons and as many supplies as they could carry.

  “I wonder how far it goes,” said Caspian, as they squeezed back through the portal.

  “No way of knowing, lad,” the captain replied. “It looks as though it heads straight out of the bay towards the Pass. Could be it leads all the way into the mountains. Why don’t we find out?”

  Captain Brandt strode ahead, becoming a floating island of light as he carried his torch along the tunnel. Caspian stopped in his tracks, suddenly nervous. Sten pushed past, followed by Jan.

  “Not scared are we?” the young sailor said, with an oily grin. “At least you know one thing for sure.”

  Caspian shuddered. “What’s that?”

  “The Lady never made it this far.” With a chuckle, Jan continued past after his two crewmates.

  A moment later, Caspian ran after them.

  CHAPTER 11

  “It watches you, does it not?”

  Harri’s words snapped Cole out of his trance. As they had begun riding around the northern edge of the forest, his eyes had been drawn to the t
rees. Less than half a mile away, he could make out the individual trunks, the dark branches clawing at the sky like gnarled, skeletal fingers. The sight of it filled him with foreboding, and Cole realised he did indeed feel the weight of eyes upon him.

  “Before we arrived at Hunter’s Watch, I looked down upon the forest from the cliffs, and it looked much like any other,” he said. “But up close...” He shivered. “The air here is colder.”

  “Winter is only just upon us, but in these lands you would scarce realise,” the young hunter agreed. “The Ice Fens were aptly named, as there are not many months of the year you would not find a frost upon the surface of the mire. We are almost at the northernmost reaches of all Callador, which no doubt accounts for the climate.” His steely grey eyes glanced across to the tree line, which stretched away before them as far as Cole could see. “But I have long wondered whether the wood itself adds its own chill to the air.”

  It was shortly after dawn on their second day out of Hunter’s Watch. Cole’s spirits had been high following their departure; at last it felt as though he was making progress towards his destination, and he was pleased to be still in Raven’s company. Her manner towards him was still as frosty as the weather, but on several occasions he had caught her smiling faintly at some jest he had made. He remained hopeful she would thaw over time.

  The night had been difficult, however. They had made camp within sight of the forest’s edge, which was bad enough, but both Harri and Raven had stubbornly refused to let him build a fire, which was intolerable.

  “It’s too cold, I’ll never be able to sleep!” he’d protested. “My teeth are chattering so hard they’ll fall out.”

  “No open flames,” Raven insisted. “The Moon Tower is only a few leagues south. Even if they don’t catch sight of us, there are plenty of eyes within the forest that would be drawn to the light.”