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

by Alan Ratcliffe

  “Presence?” Raven frowned. In truth, whenever Cole had attempted to describe the place the crystals took him to, she found it hard to envisage. “As in another person, like you?”

  “Not like me.” Cole appeared puzzled. “It was strange. I was in a place surrounded by the villagers, but in the middle of it all was this black fog. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but then it moved. It looked like an enormous crag-cat, four or five times my own height.”

  “A cat.” Raven didn’t attempt to disguise the doubt in her voice.

  “Yes, but like it was made of smoke.” He scratched his head, looking for a way to better describe what he had seen. “It was like when you see something in the clouds. You know it isn’t solid, but you can still see the shape of it. This seemed alive, though. It was sitting in the middle of the villagers. It had green eyes, like emeralds... or...”

  “Or the crystals,” Raven finished. “So what was it doing, this big cat of yours?”

  “Keeping watch mainly, I think,” he replied. “It didn’t look friendly, I know that. I made sure I kept hidden behind the orbs of the villagers.” He frowned again. “Those were strange, too.”

  “Strange how?”

  “They glowed green, but it wasn’t just that. The Brothers were the same. These seemed to pulse though, like a beating heart, and the pulses travelled along these long green tethers that came out of each orb and disappeared off somewhere. Towards the cat, I think. Everything seemed to be centred around that.”

  Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a lot to take in. “So, you found a big cat made of smoke and some glowing green orbs. Did you at least manage to reach anybody?”

  “As I said, I didn’t want to walk around too openly, it seemed a bad idea to attract the cat’s attention. Luckily, I found somebody I knew quite quickly. I tried to enter his dream, to speak to him like you suggested, but... there was no dream. The orb was empty, like a void, but I didn’t get a sense of fear from him. Quite the opposite, he seemed at peace.”

  “I thought you said it worked.”

  Cole threw up his hands in exasperation. “I said I thought it had. But that’s not the end of it. I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to break the tether that was holding him. I didn’t really know what I was doing, so I just kind of pulled at it and willed it with my mind. At first, it was like wrestling a live snake. But then it came free and the pulsing stopped. After the tether was broken, I went back in and spoke to him. He was confused at first, but I tried to make sure he understood.” Cole shrugged again. “Then I came back, there didn’t seem to be any more I could do.”

  Raven nodded, digesting what Cole had told her. She hadn’t known what to expect when she suggested that he use his powers to try to reach one of the villagers, who seemed to have a connection to the crystals. As she mulled over his tale, she found Cole’s description of the giant, black cat and the tethered villagers disturbing. In a strange way, it seemed to confirm some of what the Baron had gloatingly told them the previous evening. I don’t think we’re the only prisoners here, she thought.

  “This cat, could it have been the Baron, do you think?” she asked.

  Cole nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible. Or an aspect of him, maybe. The thought occurred to me as well.”

  Then, though it pained her greatly to sit idle for longer than they had already, they waited. The time seemed to stretch on forever. Raven paced. When she wasn’t pacing, she sat down against a wall of their cell until her legs began to protest against the inactivity. Then, she paced again.

  It occurred to her how rare it was for her to be still, to have nothing to occupy her time. It seemed to her that for twenty years she had been constantly on the move, travelling around the country. Searching. Asking questions. Fighting. There has been too much of that, she reflected. Her quest had been driving her for so long that she’d never had the time to stop and ask whether it should. She had told Cole that her father was still out in the world somewhere, alive. In her heart she still believed it. But was part of the reason why she kept moving so that she could ignore her doubts? So long, with no sign...

  Her face hardened. It was still possible. For twenty years she had had no sign either of the Brother with green eyes. Then suddenly he had emerged from whatever burrow he had concealed himself within, now the Archon no less. He was plotting something, she would stake her life on it, and somehow Cole was wrapped up in whatever was going on. He’d been told he would find answers at Frosthold... well perhaps there were answers there for her also. After that, her road led to Ehrenburg, the heart of the empire, and a meeting with the Archon.

  As she paced, these thoughts rolled through Raven’s mind. Cole was dozing in one corner, apparently worn out by his exertions that night. She was just about to rouse him, when she heard the pattering of footsteps in the hallway beyond their cell.

  The pattering stopped outside the cell door. Then, there was a soft jangling of metal at the lock; the sound of nervous fingers fumbling for the right key. By the time the lock turned with a loud click, Cole had woken. He came and stood by her side. Neither spoke. Raven held her breath. Their lives hinged on the next few moments.

  The door creaked open, revealing a round balding head and nervous expression. Raven could have cried out in joy. She would wager that never before in Emmett’s life had two people had been as happy to see him as she and Cole were now. With a wide grin, Cole stepped forward and clapped a hand onto their former guide’s shoulder. “You came!” he exclaimed.

  The older man grimaced. “I... I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream, but even if it had been, I had to do something.” His voice trembled. “When I awoke, it was as though I was seeing clearly for the first time. It was...”

  He fell silent, unable to find the right words. Now that the surprise of seeing him had passed, Raven examined the older man more closely. He seemed even smaller than before, hunched over in a weary stoop. It was as if he was bearing a great weight. Then she saw the dried blood crusted in the hair at the back of his head.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, approaching him. “Surely you did not fight the guards to reach us?”

  Emmett smiled sadly. “I would not be standing before you now, I fear, had that been required.” He was so small and thin that it looked as though a strong breeze could knock him down, never mind the forged steel weapons of the Baron’s guardsmen. “I cut myself, there was something that needed to come out before I could help you.”

  He didn’t need to explain further. Cole stared at the ground uncomfortably. He had defended the crystals so staunchly that any reminder that they could be used for dire purposes seemed to embarrass him. Raven moved past the pair of them, and peered cautiously out into the corridor beyond the cell. The narrow stone passage was empty, and as far as she could tell the manor house and its occupants were silent.

  “How did you get past the guards if you didn’t fight your way through?” she asked, turning back towards the older man.

  By way of explanation, he removed a half-full bottle from within the depths of his torn, baggy cloak. “A very interesting garden, our healer keeps,” he said. “A number of herbs grow there. Some cleanse wounds, others... ease pain. Permanently, in large enough doses.”

  “So, the guards, did you...?”

  Emmett shook his head. “No, even now I could not do that. They were friends of mine, once upon a time. Just a dash, enough for a draught of slumberwine. Only one guard keeping watch, and he was grateful for a cup to warm him after a long winter’s night.”

  Together, they crept along the underground passage. Around the corner from their cell was a small alcove, into which had been set a wooden table and stool. A snoring guardsman, dressed in rusted chainmail, was sprawled across the table. In front of him was a pewter cup, at the bottom of which were a few last dregs of dark red liquid.

  “How long until he wakes?” Raven asked.

  Emmett appeared uncertain. “An hour or two,” he replied. “Mayhap mo
re, mayhap less.”

  There was a stone staircase nearby. Raven went to the foot of it and strained to listen. Silence. It seemed their escape had yet to be noticed. “Are there other guards on patrol?” she asked, returning to the alcove beside which Emmett stood waiting.

  “It’s possible,” he ventured. Raven decided that their former guide disliked dealing with certainties. “There aren’t that many of them, not really. There’s Eli here,” he pointed at the slumbering guardsman. “Then there’s Tam, Denys, Mikkel and Gerhardt, the sergeant. The others may well be asleep at this time, or upstairs. You shouldn’t have too much difficulty reaching the village, nor leaving it.”

  Raven shook her head. “I’m not leaving without our friend.” Gently, she reached down to the guardsman and slid his sword from its sheath. “I also made a promise to the Baron that I intend to keep.”

  The older man’s eyes widened for a moment, then he nodded. “I understand. This is a more dangerous path, however.”

  Emmett looked utterly miserable. Raven laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have done a lot for us already,” she told him. “We would understand if you wish to leave, to return home.”

  His shoulders sagged even further. “No, there is nothing for me there, not any more. I would see this through to the end. It has been a long time coming. Besides,” he added, “you will need me to help you reach the Baron’s chambers.”

  Raven took the lead as they climbed the staircase. They went as quietly as they could; there seemed little reason to alert the guards to their presence if they could avoid doing so. They emerged in an anteroom of sorts, obviously meant for the guards’ use. As well as a table and chairs, several wooden racks arrayed along the walls contained weapons of various kinds. Raven examined these, before taking a lethal-looking crossbow in addition to the sword she already held. There was a leather strap attached to it, which she fixed to her belt. She preferred to keep a hand free, if possible. Before they left, she also passed Cole a heavy mace topped with sharp spikes. Emmett refused to accept a weapon of any kind.

  On leaving the guardroom, they emerged in the mansion’s main hallway. Raven eyed the same portraits she had belatedly noticed the day before. Like everything else about the Baron, it was brazen. The clues were there for anybody that had the knowledge to piece them together. The same face throughout the centuries, the exotic origins. He had lived for so long and wielded power so great that he no longer held any fear that he might be discovered. No doubt it amused him to flaunt the truth of his nature in such a manner.

  It was Cole who noticed the change first. “It looks different,” he said.

  Raven looked around at the hallway, and she saw it too. Whereas the night before last it had appeared grand, with a brilliant white tiled floor, marble staircase and luxuriant carpet, the space in which they were standing now seemed affected by the same torpor that pervaded the village outside. The floor was streaked with grime, the carpet was worn thin and ragged curtains hung limply from their rails. Where before everything had been bright and vivid, now the colours were muted. It was as if a century had passed in the space of two nights. And the years had not been kind.

  “What happened here?” Raven wondered aloud. It didn’t seem possible that such a transformation could occur in so short a time.

  “I don’t know, but it could be a... a glamour of some kind, perhaps?”

  Raven glanced towards Cole. “A spell, you mean?”

  Cole shrugged. “Similar. You said yourself that these rakh are able to change their own appearance. Perhaps the Baron’s power has grown beyond others of his kind.”

  It was as good an explanation as any. Emmett hurried towards the double-doors that led to the dining hall, and beckoned for them to follow.

  “Why this way?” Raven hissed.

  The older man hushed her to silence and pressed his ear to the door. Evidently he heard no sound, as he pulled the right-most door open a crack and stepped into the gloom beyond. “If there are any guards about, most likely they’ll be keeping watch on the main stairs,” he explained as Raven and Cole followed him inside. “But there’s a back-stair that leads up to the master’s chambers. Mayhap it will be unguarded.”

  They found it easily enough. A plain wood door to the left of where they had entered revealed a narrow staircase leading up. Raven caught Cole casting nervy looks over his shoulder at the rows of benches and the table upon the dais. All now stood empty, but the events of the night of the Baron’s supper still weighed heavy upon them both.

  When they reached the top of the staircase, Emmett once again listened at the door they found there. This time, they all heard what they had feared. Footsteps thumped ponderously along the corridor beyond. They became louder as they approached the door they were huddled behind, then went past and began to recede.

  Emmett saw Raven’s grip on her sword tighten, and he shook his head. “Only as a last resort. Please,” he begged.

  When the footsteps had gone, they slipped through the door into the upper hallway beyond. As Emmett had said, there didn’t appear to be many guards on duty at this time. Hopefully just the one was patrolling the entire upper floor, and he would not return this way for some time.

  Several doors led off from the hallway they now found themselves in. “Which is the Baron’s chamber?” Raven asked.

  Their former guide hobbled along the hallway, which was in the same state of disrepair they had noted downstairs. He approached a corner, but instead of following the corridor around the bend, he stopped outside another door. Raven pointed towards it with a meaningful look, and he nodded. Raven took the lead again, Cole following close behind. She slowly pulled the handle on the door, so as to make no sound, and tiptoed inside.

  The Baron’s chamber was almost pitch-black. A thin crack of grey light was visible around the edges of what appeared to be an enormous curtain spread across almost the entire opposite wall. All was still, aside from a low humming noise she was unable to place. The door closed with a soft click after Emmett entered behind them, and Raven waited for a few moments to allow her eyes time to adjust to the gloom. Gradually, she began to see the outlines of pieces of furniture; an armoire set against one wall, a dressing table and chair set before it and a bed. At least, she took it for a bed. It was positioned directly in front of the great curtain, but seemed jumbled and uneven. She took a few steps forward and saw that in place of a mattress, the bed was seemingly composed of dozens of cushions and pillows of varying sizes and colours.

  Whatever it was made up of, that it served as a bed was clear. Lying spread-eagled in the centre of it was the unmistakable form of the Baron. He wore a long, white nightshirt that was open at the chest to reveal a pelt of thick golden hair. The soft sounds of steady breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

  Raven wondered whether that was the key to it: the illusion of grandeur inside the manor house, even the mirage of the disappearing village that had fooled a generation of hunters. Perhaps when the Baron slept, all that he had created faded away to reveal the ugly truth lurking beneath.

  It had to be now. Raven crept closer, taking care to make no sound nor stumble over any half-seen objects lying underfoot in the darkness. Three steps. Four. Slowly edging nearer to the mound of cushions. The Baron dozed on as she approached, his chest gently rising and falling. A dozen steps brought her level with the sleeping figure. She gripped the sword firmly and raised it high, shifting her weight ready to bring down her full strength in a single blow.

  But as Raven stood there, preparing to strike, the Baron’s green eyes suddenly flicked open. With a gasp of surprise, Raven swung down with the blade, but it was too late. The Baron grinned with a mouth full of sharp feline teeth and caught her wrist in mid-air. His grip was like iron, holding her fast. She squirmed, trying to twist her arm free, but his fingernails bit into her skin like claws.

  She heard a commotion behind her. Cole was rushing towards the bed to help her. With a sneer, the Baron made a sign in the air similar
to the one he had traced that night in the dining hall and she heard Cole drop to the floor with a thump. Raven redoubled her efforts to free herself, but now found herself fighting even to breathe. The Baron’s free hand shot up and grabbed her by the throat. His eyes burned with animalistic fury as his grip tightened. The pupils were vertical slits. Around her the world began to fade. Her vision darkened at the edges until all she could see were those green eyes, boring into her soul. She heard Cole shouting from the floor, but his words were faint, indistinct.

  With the last of her strength, Raven fumbled at her waist, hoping to find the crossbow she had picked up earlier, but her hand came away empty. It was gone. She tried to remember where she had lost it, but it was impossible to think now. Her arm fell limply to her side. All her strength had gone, and the blackness that surrounded her vision crowded in until almost everything else faded from sight.

  Then she was falling. Raven felt herself flying through the air and landing with a dull thump. Papa! No! her mind cried out, cast back to an earlier time. It took a heartbeat to register that the Baron’s death-grip on her throat had loosened, and then she was gasping for air, filling her lungs with a feeling close to exultation. The world came rushing back, and she sat up.

  The Baron was sitting up also. With a trembling hand he was pawing at the feathered end of the bolt protruding from his chest. On his face was an expression of dumbfounded surprise. He wasn’t looking at Raven, though. His gaze went past her to the figure standing at the foot of his bed. Emmett still held the crossbow raised, the startled look on his face almost a reflection of the Baron’s.

  Raven heard a ragged, bubbling sound and saw bloody froth forming around the bolt. It had evidently pierced a lung, and the creature that had so recently tried to throttle the life from her was struggling to draw a breath of his own. Dark blood began to seep from the wound, staining his white nightshirt. His jaw worked noiselessly, and then it was over. The Baron’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed back onto the bed of cushions.