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

by Alan Ratcliffe

  “Think nothing of it, young man,” the duke replied graciously, with another fleeting smile. “I have lived long enough to know that when our Raven is engaged on a task she believes to be important, the wisest course is to assist her. She is not one to enter into something lightly.”

  Cole recalled a certain gold locket, and a grieving man living in a cliff-top house. It felt like a lifetime ago. “I believe you are correct, Your Grace.”

  “There is one matter I’d hope to discuss, my lord,” said Raven, as the duke took up his goblet. “When we met Conall in the city, he mentioned troubles of some kind.”

  “I found them by that blasted pillar,” the younger man added, by way of explanation. “I nearly arrested them, before I recognised Raven.”

  The duke sipped at his mead and frowned. “A few troublemakers,” he grunted dismissively. “Nothing more. A handful of shopkeepers and drunkards raising their voices in protest. It will pass.”

  “With respect, father, but you are wrong,” Conall said. The duke directed a cool stare towards his son, but the young guard-captain stood firm in the face of it. “You sit up here in your keep, too far above the streets to understand what is taking place. Each night it becomes harder to maintain order. So far we have been able to contain it, but I fear that trouble is brewing.”

  “It’s the crystal, isn’t it?” Raven asked. “Tell me what has been happening.”

  “It was raised up by the Order a week or so past...” Conall began.

  “Did anyone see them building it?” interrupted Cole.

  The young officer frowned. “Now that you mention it, no. It was not there at sunset, but by the following morning it was standing just as you saw it today. We wondered, naturally, where it had come from. The elder told us they had laboured during the night, when all were asleep, and that it was merely a monument to the Order. In any case,” he continued, “it was little more than a curiosity at first, until the next night.”

  “Let me guess, it shot green fire into the sky,” Cole ventured. “We saw it and others like it when we were crossing the mountains.”

  “Yes, it was then that we realised it wasn’t just within our city that the Order had raised these stones.” Conall took another sip from his goblet. He seemed disquieted. “Half the people in the city were frightened by it. The other half... gathered by the stone, singing and chanting. The same has happened each night since. It’s unlike anything I have ever before seen.”

  “I would not be surprised if the ones gathered by the stone all bore similar crystals around their necks,” said Raven. “So, there are tensions between the two groups, I take it?”

  “Each night, it grows worse. The Order and its followers grow in numbers, while more and more of the other citizens congregate around them, shouting insults.” Conall shook his head sadly. “As yet, there has been no violence, thank the Divine, but you have only to walk the streets to know that what peace remains cannot hold forever.”

  “My lord, you are no friend of the Order, just like others in the north,” pressed Raven. “Why did you not simply pull the stone down when it appeared?”

  The duke grimaced. “That would be... problematic. I personally disagree with their creed, but the Order enjoys the emperor’s favour. To oppose one is to incur the wrath of the other. I could pull the stone down today, and in a week’s time I would have ten thousand Legion soldiers outside my gates claiming a breach of our treaty.”

  “Not to mention that my brothers are by now likely within reach of the Bloody Prince’s sword-arm,” Conall added. “Their lives would be forfeit the moment that brute is told that the alliance has been broken.”

  The duke raised a hand to silence his son. “It is not wise to say such things, even here.” He paused thoughtfully, before turning to Raven. “My dear, would you perform one last service for me, before you resume your journey?”

  “Of course, my lord, I would be honoured,” she replied. “What is it you wish of me?”

  “Much of what my son has said is correct,” the duke told her. He tapped a finger against his goblet. “But he is wrong about one thing. Even here, above the city, I feel it. My people are afraid, and their fear grows. We live in troubled times, and they look to me for direction. If they are dissatisfied with the path I choose, then I do not know what the future may hold for us.” He hesitated, still tapping an uneven rhythm upon the pewter. Despite his placid demeanour, it was clear he was disturbed by the current situation. “My son will be heading into the city soon, with his guardsmen. For the past few nights, they have kept watch over the stone and those that gather there. Go with him tonight. Observe for yourself what takes place. Then return and tell me whether you believe the stone must be brought down. I am most interested to hear your counsel on the matter.”

  Raven was taken aback. “I am humbled that Your Grace has such faith in my judgement,” she said. “But it feels like too heavy a responsibility for one who is not of your people.”

  The duke smiled without humour. “A wise ruler never underestimates the value of an impartial opinion. Your mind won’t be too clouded by politics or fear to see what is best for my people and my city. Your good judgement is more valuable to me than a pair of geldings and a saddlebag of supplies.”

  Raven bowed her head. Cole thought that she still seemed uncertain, but nevertheless she replied, “As you wish, my lord. I will do as you ask.”

  The main business concluded, they quickly finished up the rest of the supper, before leaving the hall with Conall. At the doorway, Cole turned to look back inside. As the door closed behind him, he saw the duke sitting alone at the table, staring thoughtfully into the distance, absently scratching the wolfhound behind its ears.

  They followed Conall to the outer courtyard, where a score of guardsmen were already lining up in readiness. Soon, they were all marching back down the hill towards the city, Cole and Raven at their head alongside the duke’s youngest son. The soldiers’ steel boots drummed loudly on the cobblestones.

  The sun had already dropped below the horizon by the time they crossed back over the bridge and reached the green crystal pillar. With practised skill, the guardsmen formed a wide ring around the stone.

  “What now?” Cole asked, watching them take up positions.

  “We wait,” Conall replied simply.

  At his suggestion, Cole and Raven stood a short distance away. “If there is trouble, I would rather you not be at the heart of it,” Conall told them. “But whatever happens, you’ll be able to better observe what takes place.”

  So it was that they found themselves standing near the riverbank, not far from the bridge they had already crossed twice that day. The rushing waters below reflected the colourful palette of the evening sky above. The river looked quite beautiful, and it seemed that a peace had descended over the city. Looking to the north, however, in amongst the streets and alleys opposite, Cole was reminded of the feelings of disquiet he’d had earlier. Beyond the guardsmen, men and women of various ages had begun to gather, silently watching them. The soldiers held their ground, but the tension in the air was palpable.

  “If you go back and tell him to pull the stone down, do you think he’ll actually do it?” Cole murmured to Raven under his breath.

  Raven shrugged. “If I had to guess, I would say that he already knows what he should do, but is concerned about the potential consequences. No doubt the memory of the choice faced by his ancestor weighs heavily upon him.” She paused, watching Conall stride around the stone, inspecting his troops. “If someone he trusts, who has no personal stake in the matter, recommends a certain course of action to him, I believe he would act upon it. In all the years I’ve known him, Duncan Maccallam has always done what he thought best for his people.”

  “He would risk the lives of his sons, then?”

  “It would probably not come to that. I only know Prince Adelmar by reputation, but they say he is probably the greatest general the Empire has ever known. I doubt that he would risk sparkin
g a rebellion just because one northern city poked the Order in the eye, not with war already raging to the south. Besides,” she added, “they’re surrounded by hundreds of loyal men. I’m sure they’ll be safe whatever happens after tonight.” Despite her words, Cole detected an undercurrent of uncertainty in her tone.

  For perhaps half an hour, they waited. By the time the stars had begun to twinkle in the night sky, over a hundred people were milling amongst the street and buildings on the far side of the ring of guardsmen. There was an air of expectancy, not dissimilar to what he had sensed on the mountain-top, among the Aevir. But where there had been excitement among the strange bird-people, the atmosphere in the square was markedly different. Looking around at the faces of the people, he read fear in their features, even anger in some. Conall obviously sensed it too. He patrolled again around the ring of guardsmen, cajoling and calming them as he deemed necessary.

  Just then, a door opened nearby. It was a building Cole had noted absently earlier that day. He had taken it for a church of some kind; at one end it had a tall tower and along its length were windows of stained glass. From out of the open doorway, a line of people marched solemnly towards the stone. At their head were Brothers in brown robes, hoods pulled down low over their faces and the Order’s green star splashed across their breast. Behind them trailed a row of normal people. To look at them, it was almost impossible to distinguish them from those that gathered around the outskirts of the square. The only noticeable difference between them was that Cole could see a silver chain around the necks of each of those that followed the Brothers. But where hostility was etched upon the faces of their fellows, the latest arrivals appeared at peace. Cheerful even. If they had picked up on the tense atmosphere that hung over the square like a shroud, it was not immediately obvious.

  When this procession reached the ring of guardsmen, the soldiers parted to grant them passage. As Cole watched, the civilians knelt down before the stone, while one of the Brothers began to deliver a sermon. He was too far away to hear the words, but the man’s voice was a sonorous drone. On the far side of the square, he began to see ripples of movement among the crowd. People wandered closer to the guardsmen, one at a time at first but soon approaching in clusters.

  Cole heard Conall’s voice ring out over the Brother’s sermon, giving orders to his men while appealing for calm to the onlookers. One of the guardsmen stumbled as the crowd pressed in upon him, mostly due to the mass of people behind pushing to get closer to the front. The soldiers on either side of him immediately pushed back against the crowd, and Cole saw one raise a mailed fist and strike at the face of a bearded man. Blood poured from his nose, and his fellows began to shout at the guards.

  “This is bad,” Raven muttered. “I fear the duke has already delayed for too long.”

  “Freaks!” One woman’s voice screeched out above the other raised voices. “Send them back to the emperor, they have no place in our city!” The cry was immediately taken up by others, and soon insults rained down upon the guardsmen and the people they shielded. In the face of this verbal assault, the Brother’s voice was no longer discernable.

  The jostling at the front of the crowd ceased abruptly as the stone in the centre of the square began to glow with an eerie green light. Those outside the ring of guards took a step back, their faces bathed in the sickly glow. “It’s happening again!” someone cried.

  In the centre, the Brother who had delivered the sermon finished speaking, and raised his arms to the sky. The others in brown robes did likewise, while those that knelt on the ground looked up towards the stars, their faces rapt.

  With a low booming sound that seemed to resonate through the soles of Cole’s feet, green fire suddenly shot into the sky from the tip of the stone. Within the square, it was almost as bright as daylight. He looked up and saw the writhing column disappear into the clouds, which crackled with green lightning. When he turned back to the crowd, he realised that the small crystals each of the kneeling figures wore around their necks were glowing as well, identical in hue to the larger stone. There was a strange ringing in his ears, but over the noise he could hear Conall bellowing instructions. The crowd, initially cowed by what they had seen, now pressed in against the guardsmen with redoubled fervour.

  Cole grabbed Raven’s arm. “We should go back to the castle,” he yelled, above the noise in his ears. “Tell the duke that...”

  Before he could finish his sentence, madness erupted in the square. A rock suddenly flew from the crowd and struck one of the Brothers in the temple. Cole never saw who had thrown that first missile, but others soon followed. The Brother who had taken the first blow lay prone, a dark pool gathering on the flagstones around his head. Screams tore open the night, as bricks and stones rained down upon those congregated around the crystal. They raised their arms against the barrage, but several more fell. The guardsmen raised their shields to hold back the crowd, who responded by attempting to yank them from their hands.

  Another large rock looped through the air and struck a guardsman on his helmet. That seemed to break whatever resolve had been holding the soldiers back. Suddenly, Cole saw swords being drawn and steel, shining in the torchlight, slashing at the crowd. Men and women fell bleeding to the floor, clutching gaping wounds in their necks and stomachs. Further screams filled Cole’s ears. Those at the back of the crowd continued to pelt the people cowering at the stone’s base, and also prevented those at the front from escaping the guardsmen’s blades. With little option, those at the front surged forward, overwhelming the soldiers through sheer weight of numbers. Before his eyes, one guardsman was yanked from his feet and dashed upon the ground, to be crushed beneath the stamping boots of the crowd.

  Raven was screaming into his ear, pulling at his arm. “What?” he asked dumbly. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “We have to go, now!” Raven shouted, tugging him towards the bridge. “It’s too late.”

  Cole looked towards the square, where chaos reigned. “Can’t we help? You have your swords.”

  Raven stared at him like he was mad. “Help who, Cole? All I see is innocent people. They’re frightened, and I can’t even say which side is more in the wrong here.” She stared helplessly at the frenzied mass of civilians and guardsmen. “We have to go, while we can still cross the bridge. We have to let the city guard handle this.”

  A commanding shout rang out above the screams. Cole glanced back towards the square, where Conall was rallying the remaining guardsmen. They had formed a shield wall, and the young guard-captain was hauling the Order congregation to their feet and shoving them towards the river. Those that could, fled, running past Cole and Raven with blood trickling from their wounds and tears in their eyes. The guardsmen began to retreat towards them, keeping their shields pressed against the fury of the crowd. Cole could hear the thud of improvised weapons beating against wood and steel.

  Suddenly, the square was plunged back into darkness. The column of green fire ceased, its tail disappearing up into the clouds. It was then that he caught sight of orange light flickering nearby. Soon, flames licked up the side of the building from which the Brothers had emerged only minutes before. There was a crash as one of the stained glass windows shattered. “The church is on fire,” Cole gasped.

  Conall reached them moments later. His temple was cut open and blood streamed freely down one side of his face. He was breathing heavily, and the blade of the sword in his hand was stained dark. “Raven, you must leave, now. We will hold this bridge, and try to contain the riot to the north of the city.” His armour glittered orange as the fire took hold of the church behind him. “There is nothing you can do. Go to the south gate, you will find your horses at a stable there. I don’t know what it is you mean to do, but if it’s related to what you’ve seen here tonight... I wish you good luck.”

  “Thank you Conall.” Raven clutched his forearm in a gesture of camaraderie. Then she leaned close to the young guard-captain. “Tell your father to tear it down,�
�� she told him. “Send birds to Caer Lys and the Rock, telling their lords to do the same. If it isn’t too late already.”

  Conall nodded in acknowledgement, then turned back to his men, shouting instructions as they reached the bridge. Raven grabbed hold of Cole’s arm and pulled him across it. Soon, they were dashing through darkened city streets, past the walled estates of Strathearn’s wealthy citizens. Eventually, the sounds of fighting and the orange glow of the burning church receded into the distance.

  They found the southern gate with little difficulty, and the stable Conall had mentioned stood just beyond. The owner had been expecting them, and with little ceremony they were soon on horseback, galloping across snow-covered farmlands with the towering city walls at their backs. Within days they would reach the Empire’s capital at last, the end of their journey.

  Raven had hardly spoken since they left the guardsmen at the bridge, but as Cole glanced across at her face, with the cold winter air stinging his eyes, he saw fierce determination there. He decided he would not want to be in the Archon’s place when his companion finally caught up with him.

  CHAPTER 28

  The parchment fell from Adelmar’s fingers and drifted gently down to the desktop. Once again, he eyed the broken seal and again judged it to be genuine. The imperial mark, an indentation in the shape of a bull’s head, was pressed into the red wax.

  Not that he doubted its veracity. He would recognise his father’s handwriting anywhere. In the words themselves, however, the Archon’s influence was so obvious he may as well have wielded the pen himself. He scowled at them, trying to discern if there was some other interpretation beyond the obvious. It did not seem likely. He glared at the last line suspiciously, as though the words were snakes that would rise up from the page and strike at him: You must do what needs to be done.

  For perhaps five minutes Adelmar sat there, lost in his own thoughts. Then, at last, he reached a decision. He neatly refolded the letter and laid it beside the one that had arrived two days earlier, bearing the Maccallam crest. When he crossed the floor of the study and opened its door, Bergen was waiting outside, as he had known he would be. The young soldier saluted when he caught sight of his commander.