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

by Alan Ratcliffe

  Later, all he would remember of the rest of their ascent of the mountain was a handful of still, frozen images, vague and indistinct. Snow falling in his face. A black hood, his arm thrown limply around the shoulders of another. A square silhouette against the night sky. An open door, cut into the face of the mountain. Darkness, dry and cool.

  He felt himself laid down upon a hard, cold floor. Then, unable to resist any longer, he slept.

  It was full daylight when Cole woke. He had no idea what the time might be, but it felt late. He sat upright, dislodging a mound of blankets that had been placed on top of him. A brazier burned merrily nearby. The warmth it provided was very welcome.

  Blearily, he gazed around at his surroundings. He appeared to be lying on the stone floor of a large anteroom of some kind. There was a high ceiling, held up by thick stone columns. At the far end a heavy wooden door stood open, and the light streaming through it told him it was likely the front entrance to the fortress.

  The smell of cooked bacon filled Cole’s nostrils and his stomach growled earnestly. He turned to see Raven sitting nearby, picking at a plate of hot, steaming food. Grume squatted on his haunches by her feet, gnawing on a hunk of meat. “I hope that’s nobody we know,” he said as he joined them.

  “Faggorf,” the little creature replied distractedly.

  “It’s good to see you looking yourself,” Raven said, passing a plate to him. “I was worried that we might have taken too long to reach the fortress.”

  Cole wasted no time in shovelling the crispy, still-warm meat into his mouth. “You carried me,” he said through full cheeks. “I remember falling in the snow. I was so tired. You came back for me.”

  “Of course.” Raven smiled. “We got lucky. If not for the storm, you would have realised how close you were. The spot where you fell was only a hundred yards from the front step of the castle we were trying to reach. If we had not been so near...” She lapsed into silence.

  “Perhaps we should have waited for the storm to clear before starting up the path.”

  Raven shook her head. “It was the right decision, at least if you wanted to reach this place before the spring thaw. I went to investigate this morning, while you slept. The blizzard may have ceased, but the mountain lies under a blanket of snow as deep as you are tall. We could not have attempted the climb this day.”

  “Well, we made it here at least,” Cole said. “I’m not quite sure how we’re going to leave, though.”

  “One thing at a time,” Raven replied with a shrug.

  Cole chewed thoughtfully. Somehow, Raven had managed to rustle up a hearty breakfast. “Not that I’m ungrateful,” he said, “but where did this food come from? I thought we were down to the crumbs at the bottom of our packs by now.”

  “I found a kitchen, not too much farther in,” she told him. “I didn’t want to venture too far before you woke, but there was a fully stocked cold-room and a place to cook. I thought you would probably want something hot inside you when you woke.”

  “My thanks,” said Cole, shivering involuntarily at the recollection of the storm. Then another vague memory surfaced. “Wait, did you sleep beside me last night?”

  Raven’s cheeks reddened. “You were freezing to death and needed the warmth,” she said defensively. “We both did. I also lit a fire and warmed some water to give you while you slept.”

  Cole grinned at her discomfort. “Well, if you ever feel the need to come into my sleeping bag again – for warmth, naturally – just be sure to ask first.”

  Raven’s eyes rolled, and she got up and left, stalking towards the open door at the other end of the hall. With a lick of his lips, Grume threw himself at her plate, stuffing his cheeks with the leftovers with evident relish. The sight of it robbed Cole of his remaining appetite, and he went to join her.

  She stood at the open doorway, gazing out across the snow. Cole saw that the day had dawned fine, the azure sky giving no hint as to the ferocity of the storm the night before. The sunlight made the blanket of white sparkle. “I have to hand it to you,” he said. “You promised to get me here, and you kept your word.”

  “We paid a heavy price to do so,” she replied sadly.

  Cole regretted his earlier jest. “I’m sorry about Harri,” he said. “What do you think will happen when he gets back to Hunter’s Watch?”

  “I don’t know.” Raven’s voice was quiet. “Yaegar will rage at first. However, if the villagers are lucky, and if Harri speaks well of them, they will not be punished. Then, the mourning will start.”

  “Why would they mourn?” Cole’s brow furrowed in confusion. “He is alive, isn’t he?”

  “He lives, but barely. Harri is Yaegar’s only son, his heir. However, the hunters will not follow one who cannot lead them by example. He will keep their respect for what he once was, though the best he can hope for is to learn a new trade and make what he can of the life left to him. He will never ride again, never track a beast or patrol the Spiritwood.” She rubbed at her eyes. “He is alive, and I am grateful for that. But I am not sure that he will be, when he has time to reflect on it.”

  Cole thought about the life that would lie in store for a warrior who could no longer fight. “Will you go back to him? After we leave here, I mean.”

  Raven shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said again. “Perhaps one day. My search has not yet ended. A lot can change between now and then.”

  He said nothing for a time, all the words that came to him sounded trite in his mind. “It’s quiet here,” he said eventually.

  “I’d noticed that also.” Raven seemed to come back to herself, and she turned to face him. “I don’t like it. The door was wide open as we approached. I was glad for it at the time... if it had been closed and barred I don’t know what we would have done. But it’s troubling. Door open, and no signs of life within other than ourselves.”

  Cole shivered. While the sun shone brightly outside, a chill wind blew in from the mountaintop. “Is it deserted, do you think?”

  “As I said, I did not venture too much farther inside, but I neither saw nor heard anybody else.” Raven frowned. “It seems we are alone here. Either the Brothers abandoned it, or...”

  She left it unsaid, but Cole took her meaning. All who had once resided at the Crag had lost their lives, bar himself. Had a similar fate befallen the Brothers of Frosthold?

  “We should go further into the mountain and see what we can find.” She turned to walk back along the hall.

  “Wait, did you say mountain?” Cole asked, puzzled.

  “Yes.” Raven turned back and met his gaze. “Didn’t you know? This isn’t like other keeps or castles. The builders of Frosthold decided that rather than bring their bricks all the way up the mountain, they would just carve their fortress into the rock itself. It has a front face where it meets the top of the stair, and the rest – all the floors and rooms – are set deep within the peak.”

  “I had no idea.” Cole glanced around him. He could see it now. The walls were smooth, but showed no joins or mortar. It must have taken years to excavate. Decades, even.

  They collected Grume as they reached their meagre camp at the far end of the hall. Together, they passed through a door that led to a long, dark passageway with various rooms and corridors leading from it.

  There were benefits to effectively being underground, Cole realised. Despite the harsh conditions outside, the temperature inside the fortress was comfortable. He had even been able to take off his cloak and gloves for the first time in what seemed like days.

  One problem, however, was the light; specifically the lack of it. Before they set off into the depths of the castle, Raven took two torches from the wall, lit them both and handed one to him.

  Some of the rooms they found had windows cut into the side of the mountain, letting in a stream of daylight, but many more did not. The orange glow of their torches was the only constant source of illumination, and it gave Cole a distinctly eerie feeling as they explored the deserted
halls. It dawned on him that it was yet another sign that they were alone; all the sconces that in days gone by would have lit the passages of Frosthold had been allowed to burn out and plunge the fortress into darkness.

  They found a spiralling staircase that travelled both up and down, and after a brief discussion decided to search the fortress from the top. There they found what appeared to be the Brothers’ living quarters; bedrooms and studies both neat and in various states of disarray. A thick layer of dust, undisturbed until their arrival, lay over all.

  The topmost level of the fortress appeared to be a single living quarters. A lavishly ornate four-poster bed sat upon a raised dais before a glazed window that stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling. In one corner sat a modest-sized library and large hardwood desk. The daylight was brightest here, with four giant windows looking out to each of the cardinal points. Cole wandered over to one, and saw that glass doors opened out onto a long, wide balcony. He stepped out onto it, and immediately dashed back into the chamber. From this height, it felt as though he were looking down upon the map he had seen in Yaegar’s langhus. Being suddenly confronted with such a view was dizzying.

  He found Raven poking around at a pile of papers in the library area. “What are you looking for?” he asked, his head still spinning.

  “Answers.”

  Cole looked around at the desk and bookshelves. Whoever had lived here, the elder most likely, they were not fastidious in their habits. Books were strewn around the floor, hundreds of pages and even the covers torn from them. What books remained on their shelves lay scattered haphazardly. The desk was no better, the letters and papers were thrown wildly about. “Did you do all this?” he asked with a grin. “I only turned my back for a minute.”

  Raven looked up frowning from the letter she was reading. “Creatures of some kind found their way in, most likely. The door to that balcony was standing open when we arrived.” She nodded towards one of the tall windows.

  “Creatures?” Cole thought about how high up they were. “You mean birds?”

  “Possibly.” She turned back to the letter. Whatever it held did evidently not please her.

  Cole looked over the loose papers himself. Then, amongst those on the floor, he found one of interest. “What could have made this?” he asked. On the paper was a giant, muddy footprint. In shape it was like a bird’s, but on a scale bigger than any he had seen before.

  Raven took the paper and examined it. “If I had to guess, I would say that it belongs to one of the Aevir,” she said eventually.

  “Oh.” Cole had heard of the creatures. According to the books in the Crag’s library, they made their homes in the high places of the world, but were rarely seen elsewhere and shunned contact with humans. “They’re like clever birds, aren’t they?”

  Raven considered the question. “Cleverer, rather,” she replied. “The Aevir are still beasts, but some say there is a glimmer of intelligence behind their actions. They probably saw the sun glinting on the glass and became curious.”

  “Aevir.” Cole muttered the word to himself under his breath. “I wonder what they were looking for.”

  “Materials to line their nests with, most probably,” Raven replied irritably. “So far they’ve taken more of an interest in these letters than you have.”

  Chastened, Cole dragged a chair over to the desk and sat down to look through the papers. In truth, he was feeling a little bit lost. Merryl told him to seek out this place, that he would find answers here. Did he know that the Brothers were gone? It seemed doubtful. He had likely believed that Cole would find somebody here who could answer his questions, but what was he to do now? Was it all a wasted journey?

  For perhaps an hour they stayed there, picking up pages from the clutter and reading through in an attempt to find anything of interest. There were pages torn from ledgers that detailed the fortress’ inventory, letters discussing matters of Order policy that were described so dryly the lids of Cole’s eyes began to droop. After a while, he realised that his eyes were scanning lines of text but the meaning of the words was not entering his brain.

  He yawned and stretched. Then he glanced around the room. “Where’s Grume?”

  This time Raven didn’t look up from her page. “Cowering under the bed, I think. I saw him scuttle under there at the first mention of birds.”

  Cole rose and went over to the large bed, which dominated an entire side of the room. He peered underneath, and found a pair of belligerent yellow eyes peeping out. “What are you doing under there?”

  “I heard’ja, you’n the other bigger. Birds, you said. Pfeh!” he spat. “Orrid things, all beaks and claws. I’s stayin’ under ‘ere.”

  “Grume, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Cole chided. “There are no birds here now.”

  “Huh, that’s ‘ow they getcher,” the creature replied firmly. “My uncle went that way. Mindin’ ‘is own business, ‘e wos. Then, bang, ‘e wos gone, just a shadow an’ a screech an’ nuffin left but ‘is boots.” He sniffed. “Not that I minded. Nice boots, these’uns.” He waved a tiny foot proudly in Cole’s direction to emphasise the point.

  “Look, just get back in the pouch for now if you’re scared,” Cole told him. “There aren’t any birds big enough to carry us both off.”

  Grume grumbled a while longer, but eventually agreed to return to the pouch. When Cole rejoined Raven in the library corner, he found her staring intently at a page. “Did you find anything interesting?” he asked.

  “Letters from the Archon to the elder here, Jonas. I found them at the bottom of a drawer. They seem old.” She turned the paper over, examining it. It was yellowed with age. “Several years at least, maybe more.” She grimaced. “They were doing something here. Some kind of research.”

  “Research? Into what?”

  Raven shook her head slowly, scanning the writing. “He doesn’t say. He just keeps asking this Jonas about the experiments, asking about their progress.” She looked up at him urgently. “Cole, there’s more. He talks about a boy in the west, one who has an affinity with the crystals.”

  Cole sat down with a bump, uncertain of how to react. “Is that me, do you think? What does he say?”

  “Not much.” Raven dropped the parchment back onto the tabletop. Her frustration was etched on her face. “He talks about the boy showing promise, but that’s all. If there is more, I haven’t seen it. It could be here somewhere.”

  Cole looked at the confusion of papers around them. “It would take weeks to go through all of this,” he said. “We don’t even know what it is we’re looking for, or if it’s here at all. Where are you going?” This last was directed at Raven, who had stood up from the desk.

  “I agree, I don’t think there’s more to be gained here,” she replied. “Not without spending a great deal of time pawing through ledger pages that tell us how many bushels of vegetables the Brothers took delivery of that week, rather than what was taking place here.”

  Cole stood as Raven strode towards the door to the chambers. “So what do we do now?”

  Raven turned. “They were conducting their research somewhere within this fortress, I mean to find out where.”

  They climbed back down the spiral staircase, passing first the level with the Brothers’ living quarters, and then that of the main entranceway. Cole followed the halo of orange light from Raven’s torch as she plunged further and further down, deeper into the bowels of the mountain. Three more levels they came to, with unlit hallways stretching off into darkness. Raven ignored each one, continuing her journey down the stone steps.

  Eventually, they reached the bottom. The spiral staircase came to an end in front of a heavy wooden door, reinforced with metal bolts. A barred grille allowed them to peer into the blackness beyond, while the door itself stood slightly ajar.

  “Why did we come all the way down here?” Cole asked. “What about all the other floors we passed?”

  “A guess, nothing more,” she replied. “But one that will
prove correct, I think. Can’t you feel it?”

  Cole stood still a moment, listening. He could hear the steady plink plink of water dripping somewhere up ahead, but that was all. This deep inside the mountain the air was comfortably warm. But, now that he stopped to consider it, there was a faint smell, one he found familiar. Whatever it was, it was not pleasant. “Feel what?” he asked.

  “Whatever was taking place at Frosthold, it happened beyond this door.” Raven pulled it open with a creak. “Something evil happened here.”

  They passed through the door, and found themselves standing in another stone passageway. As they entered, the smell came more strongly to Cole’s nose. He was able to place it now; after all, it had not been so long since he was last confronted with it. The stench of decay.

  On both sides of the passage stood doors just like the one that had entered through: heavy reinforced wood with barred grilles near the top. Cole held out his torch, and saw that those nearest to them had thick metal bolts on the outside. “I’d hoped it would be a long time before I saw the inside of a dungeon again.”

  Raven approached the closest door, and peered through the grille. “A cell,” she said. “There’s someone inside.”

  “Raven, don’t...”

  She ignored his protests and pulled the bolt across with a clunk. The door creaked open and she walked through it, her torch sending dark shadows across the walls. Cole reluctantly followed her. Inside the cell, the odour was stronger. He held his arm against his nose to block as much of it as he could. By the light of Raven’s torch, he saw the figure of a man lying slumped on the floor. He was long dead, that much was obvious. His face and hands were almost skeletal, the desiccated flesh pulled tight so that the corpse appeared to be grinning at them. His clothes were almost intact, though. When the man died, he had been wearing a brown robe.