Cole still sat in shock at the sudden turn of events. He was shaken from his reverie, however, by the sound of munching from the pouch beside him. “Grume,” he hissed down. “Stop eating that! It’s people!”
The boggit’s hairy head emerged to glare at him, his cheeks full. “So?” he demanded. “What does I care? I ain’t ‘ooman.” With a truculent shrug, the little creature disappeared back inside the pouch. The chewing noises resumed, and Cole felt the gorge rise in his throat.
He cast desperate looks down towards the assembled villagers, but the Baron laughed. “I wouldn’t waste your hopes on them, my friend. They are mine completely, you see.” He raised his hand again, and snapped his fingers. This time, one of the drab-clothed figures below the dais climbed unsteadily from their seat. Cole’s heart sank. It was Emmett, the guide who had brought them to the village in the first place and then befriended him. With a rictus grin plastered across his face, the little balding man began to dance an awkward jig. Without any musical accompaniment, he bobbed and hopped on the spot, capering like a fool. Finally, he skipped forwards into a somersault, clambered back to his feet and then dealt himself a vicious slap to the face so hard the sound of it echoed around the hall like the crack of a whip.
“Thank you, Emmett, you may reseat yourself.” The Baron snapped his fingers again and the balding man half-collapsed on the spot, before dragging himself gratefully back to his place on the bench. One of his cheeks glowed red.
Cole shook his head slowly. “No man wields the power to enslave an entire village. There is not enough magic in the world.”
“Magic?” The Baron tipped back his head and laughed, just as he had the first time Cole had met him. This time the sound of it was chilling. “There’s no magic here. Oh,” he said, gesturing airily at Cole and Raven, “I picked up a few parlour tricks here and there in my travels. But the real power lies elsewhere.”
“The crystals.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but Cole was suddenly acutely aware of his pendant resting against his chest. It was as if the stone had become heavier.
The Baron’s eyes glittered. “The very same.” He produced a green stone from a pocket of his coat, and held it up to his eye. “Such beauty. In a thousand years I had never seen their like. Then one day, as I roamed the forest, I came upon an old man pulling a handcart. A monk of some kind. Among his possessions, his clothes and books, he had hundreds of these little stones.” The Baron paused. “Ah, but it is bad manners for the host to carry on so. Surely my story of how I came to be here is of no interest to you, esteemed guests.”
“On the contrary, I think it would be very illuminating.” It was a vague hope, he knew, but Cole thought that if he could keep his host talking, then a way out of their current situation may present itself to them.
“Such a pleasant boy,” the Baron purred. “One of you at least is well-mannered.” Raven shot another furious glare in his direction, as he snapped off another finger and crunched the bone thoughtfully. “Well, it all began that day in the forest, as I said,” he began. “I had chosen a pleasing form that day and the monk showed me them happily, telling me of his beliefs and of a new religion of some kind that was reshaping the world. Honestly, I quickly grew tired of his words and had already decided his fate, but when he showed me the stones, my eyes widened. A plan took seed then in my mind, as he told me of his mission to visit this village.”
“What did you do?” Cole asked, with mounting horror.
“I slew him where he stood, naturally,” the Baron replied matter-of-factly. There was a faraway, wistful look in his eyes, as though he was recalling fond memories. “But rather than continue on my way as I had first planned, I instead took on his form. I found this place without difficulty, for it had served as a home of mine for years beyond count. It had been many moons since I had lived here last, but I knew it still. Imagine my surprise when I returned and found humans living on my doorstep! I could scarcely hide my amusement as I came among them as an old man, pulling a handcart of itchy clothes and promises of redemption. They welcomed me with open arms, can you believe it?” He chuckled, and absently broke off another finger from the severed hand he still held. Cole’s stomach rolled at the crunching sounds as he chewed. “For a year I lived among them, learning their ways. Hanging my pretty baubles around their necks. When I announced I was to leave, the mayor invited me here, the place that had been my home for centuries, and had me for dinner.” The Baron swallowed, then grinned slyly. “It was only polite that I should return the favour.”
Cole frowned. “I don’t understand, why would the villagers follow you after you killed their mayor. Why did you even come here in the first place?”
The Baron hesitated, watching him with interest. “What is this to you, boy, this stone?” he asked after a pause. “What do you see when you stare into it? What do you feel?” When Cole didn’t reply, he continued. “That day in the forest, when the old man spoke, these little stones called out to me. In voices like the twinkling of distant starlight they sang, beguiling me. Even now, as I gaze upon them, they glow like the midday sun and whisper their sweet, delicious promises. They have a beauty unrivalled anywhere in the world. As I beheld them, clasped in that filthy beggar’s grubby hands like so many cherry-pits I knew I must have them. Even then, my plan was crude... brutish when compared to what it in time became.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “I thought to enter their village, to pick them off one at a time like a beast hiding in the shadows. For a short time, that is what I did. Then, an idea came to me.”
He paused, as if momentarily unsure of himself. “To this day I don’t know truly whether the idea was mine or that of my little singing treasures. I began to experiment with those who had chosen to wear my pretty stones. I had already noticed that their natures changed; they became calmer, more pliant. Gradually, it dawned on me that I was able to exert my will over them. Imagine my delight! You should have seen the look on one husband’s face when his lady wife pounced upon and ate a live, fat mouse right in front of him and the friendly monk who had come to visit. Bones, fur and whiskers.” He roared with laughter. The sound of it seemed to shake the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. “By the time I was washing down the mayor with his own claret, the village was mine.”
“That’s monstrous,” said Cole, with sincerity. He was shocked by the Baron’s gruesome tale.
The Baron eyed him amusedly. “Is the spider monstrous when it dines on the fly caught in its web? Is it monstrous for the eagle to swoop down on the rabbit as it tries in vain to scamper away?” He shook his head. “You should not call anything monstrous for simply acting upon its nature.”
“I see no web, nor wings, yet you liken your actions to those of beasts,” Cole replied. “What are you, Baron?”
“My people are very old, man-child. More ancient than your vulgar, simian minds are able to comprehend. My ancestors saw the rise of mankind. We hunted them, long before your kind worked out which end of a pointed stick they should hold. We were the teeth in the darkness. The fear in the night.” He glanced towards Raven, who had silently observed their conversation with a look of revulsion. “I believe your friend may know our name. Isn’t that right, hatabi?”
He snapped his fingers, and Raven’s mouth flew open. “Rakh,” she spat. “I’ve heard tales of your kind. Savage, mindless beasts. It seems at least one of them has developed some semblance of cunning.”
Smiling, the Baron gave a mocking half-bow as she spoke. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, as much as it pains me to say it, the hour grows late and I’m sure you must be exhausted after your journey. I’ve had... lodgings prepared for you both, which I’m sure you will find to be to your satisfaction.” He grinned. “Captain, if you would be so kind as to escort our guests to their suite.”
Guardsmen appeared behind their seats, and both Cole and Raven were pulled upright and dragged from the dining hall, still bound by the Baron’s enchantment. Many of the villagers watched them go with s
adness in their eyes, but none made any attempt to intervene.
Cole began to feel a tingle in his fingers as they were hauled unceremoniously down a flight of stairs and along dimly lit stone passages. By the time they were hurled roughly inside a small dark cell, after the guards had slammed closed the thick door and drawn heavy steel bolts across it, he was able to move his arms freely.
Raven growled in frustration and prowled the floor of the cell, stopping occasionally to pound ineffectually on the locked door with her bare fists. Cole sank down to the floor with his back against a cold stone wall, unsure what else he could do. As the leather pouch touched the ground, Grume emerged and scampered towards a pile of straw in one corner, burying himself among the stalks. Moments later a low snoring could be heard from that part of the cell.
With a gut-wrenching cry, Raven gave up her futile assault on the door, and slumped onto the ground beside him.
“I’m sorry about Harri,” Cole said quietly.
Even in the gloom of the cell, he could see the tears sparkling in Raven’s eyes. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.” There was no need for her to say who she was referring to. “I made a vow to kill him, and I won’t rest until I put an end to his foulness.”
Cole stared down at his hands, unsure how to respond. There was a conviction to her voice that disquieted him. Despite their bleak situation, he would not have traded places with the Baron at that moment.
After a few moments of silence, he turned to Raven again. “I think,” he said, “that it’s about time you finally told me what you know about Faerloren.”
* * *
“You have to remember, most of this happened before I was born,” Raven explained. “Everything I know about the lost village is pieced together from what I’ve heard from others; the hunters and others who know some of its history. But nobody knows everything, and some parts may be exaggerations, guesses or outright lies.”
She raised an eyebrow at Cole, who nodded to show that he understood. Raven settled herself on the floor and tried to order her thoughts. It wasn’t difficult, as it was a topic that had been much on her mind over the past two days.
“It all began after the northern rebellion,” she told him. “As strange as it sounds, for years after that the land was at peace. The northern lords had no interest in conquest, they only sought to regain what had been lost, and won it back without much difficulty. For his part, the emperor... the last emperor that is... had little stomach for war. The north was far enough away from his capital that, after it was lost, it was easy to simply shrug his shoulders and try to forget that it had ever belonged to the Crown.”
“But the peace didn’t last.”
Raven shook her head. “He died, and his son ascended to the Golden Throne. Maximilien is a different animal to his father in most ways, and he wasted no time in declaring the northern lords traitors and mobilising the Legion for war, with his son at its head. Where peace had reigned before, now the land was in turmoil. The young men of the Empire were conscripted to the army, and farms were stripped of their grain and livestock to feed them. Almost every smith in the south laboured night and day to forge armour and weapons, and the taxes levied to pay for it all were thrice what they had been previously. Many of the common folk resented that the Crown had taken away their livelihoods, stolen their sons away from them to fight a war none wanted. What is the north to the people of the south? Few of them had been there, nor met anyone that had. Many starved in the first winter, with not enough food left over to feed the common folk, no money to buy bread. It was a dark time.”
“So what did they do?”
“Severe punishments were meted out to the few that tried to stand up against what was happening. The Legion prefects in the towns and cities of the south were quick to carry out public floggings, or even executions, to keep the rest in line. Eventually, some decided that enough was enough, that rather than starve they would abandon their homes and townships, and seek a better life elsewhere. But the Empire covered the entire land, to the east, the west and the south. There was only one choice remaining to them.”
Cole nodded. “They came north.”
“Less than a year before the Legion was finally ready to march against the northern lords, a few hundred men, women and children of the Empire made the same journey. They came as refugees and, seeing they were no threat, the people of the north took them in and gave them shelter. But those that had fled their homes dreamed of a place of their own, and sought to found a village that was theirs alone. They searched, but were unable to find a parcel of land that didn’t already belong to another lord. They had had enough of living under such a yoke, having their lives and livelihoods in the hands of nobles that could claim either or both on a whim. But they kept on looking, and eventually they found somewhere that nobody laid claim to. The Spiritwood.”
“Why did nobody warn them about how dangerous it is?”
Raven shrugged. “As the hunters tell it, many did. But the southern folk didn’t listen. Perhaps they believed the stories to be old wives’ tales, stories of ghouls and ghosts that were told to naughty children to make them behave. They went to the Spiritwood and built their village, a place where they could be free. But they were not abandoned. As you know, the men of the Watch feel a great duty towards those that enter this cursed forest, and for many years they kept a watchful eye over this village, Faerloren. The villagers probably didn’t even realise it, but their borders were patrolled regularly. The hunters kept the worst of the Spiritwood’s dangers away from them, for as long as they could.”
“But it didn’t last.”
“It was perhaps foolish of the hunters to think they could protect them forever,” said Raven, staring at her boots.” I have heard different explanations down the years. That they had thought to do it just long enough for the people of Faerloren to realise their peril and abandon their homes a second time. That the villagers found out what they were doing and chased them away. Some say they should not have intervened in the first place, that by sheltering them against most threats it meant they left them completely unprepared to face a greater danger when it appeared. I don’t know who has the right of it.” She sighed. “All anyone knows for sure is that eventually the sentinel failed. One day, when the hunters came to Faerloren, the village had simply vanished.”
“Wait,” Cole interrupted, incredulously. “You mean the houses were empty? That the people were missing? A whole village can’t just disappear. And anyway,” he went on, becoming heated, “we found it. We’re there now!”
Raven tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to finish. “Nevertheless,” she continued after his ire faded, “that is precisely what happened. This is one point all the stories I have heard agree upon. One day, the hunters came back, and where the village had stood was just trees. No trace of them remained. No houses, no roads; even the old stone manor house, that had stood for centuries, had disappeared. They say that it was as if the forest had swallowed Faerloren and its people whole. They searched for it, for a long time. The paths through the forest have a way of moving when nobody is looking, the trees shifting to confuse unwary travellers, but the hunters are experienced and know the Spiritwood’s tricks well. After months of looking, eventually they had to give up. Faerloren was gone.”
Cole puffed out his cheeks. “So what happened to them, to this place?”
“Nobody knows. Or rather, nobody outside the Spiritwood. I suspect our host might be able to provide some answers.”
“You called him something upstairs. Rat?”
“Rakh,” Raven corrected. “In Whitecliff and Ehrenburg there are harbourside taverns where the sailors of trading vessels gather when they’re in port. You hear a lot of stories about their homelands. I’ve heard those of the east talk about the Rakh. They fear them still, although they are more like legends than real creatures you might encounter. The traders of Xanshi describe them as spirits... demons that prowl the deepest, darkest jungles of their land, prey
ing on the unwary. According to their legends, the rakh can alter their appearance, but only for a time. Eventually the illusion fades to reveal their true faces.”
“They wield magic?”
“I don’t know,” Raven admitted. “Before, I would have said it was more of an ability, a type of natural camouflage. I’ve heard tell of lizards that can change their colour as easily as you and I breathe. But now, I’m not so sure.” She tapped her foot again on the ground as her mind worked. “If more of his kind wielded this kind of power, we would know about it, I think. He said himself that the green crystals allow him to hold sway over the villagers’ minds. Perhaps they also allow him to grow his own power, to cast an illusion over the entire village just as the rest of his kind disguise their appearance. To hide it from the eyes of others.” She shrugged again. “It is probably as good an explanation as any.”
They sat in silence for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. In a sudden flash of anger, Raven slammed her fist into the floor. “Those damn crystals!” she cried. “Do you see now why I reacted the way I did, that night in Bear’s forge? There’s evil in them, I saw that a long time ago. Yet you toy with them, as though roaming around in people’s dreams is a... a game!”
Cole’s cheeks burned hotly. “There’s power in them, I can’t deny it... but evil? Raven, they’re just stones. They’re not alive. Nobody understands what they can do, not fully, but-”
“Exactly!” Raven exclaimed. “That’s the problem, can’t you see that? Nobody understands the power of these crystals, yet your Brotherhood pokes around at them anyway, experimenting. Handing them out like sweets at a village fair! This Baron, whatever he is, has some sort of connection to them, even more powerful than yours. Even that idiotic little gremlin tapped into their energy somehow that day in the fens, and I think he was as shocked by it as you were. All it takes is for something evil, and powerful, and...” All the blood drained from her face as the realisation came to her. “Cole, people all across the Empire wear these stones. Not all, but thousands. Tens of thousands!”
Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) Page 39