“Raven!”
The shout rang across the street. Neither she nor her opponent glanced up at the unexpected call, but for just the merest fraction of a second he hesitated. It was all the opening Raven needed, and she seized it. With a roar, she span around with her sword with as much power as she could muster, and aimed a savage blow at her assailant’s neck. She watched triumphantly as the masked head flew from its shoulders, flying across the street to bounce off the bricks of a nearby house.
Breathing heavily, Raven turned to smile at Cole. “For once I’m glad you didn’t listen to...” she began. When she saw his eyes widen and stare past her shoulder, she turned. The punch caught her in the chest and lifted her from her feet, sending her crashing on her back onto the cobbles.
As she fought to draw breath, Raven could only look on dumbstruck as the now-headless figure stalked towards her. Its sword swung down towards her, hitting the cobblestones with a flash of sparks as she rolled to avoid it.
At the end of the roll, she sprang back to her feet and whirled to face her foe. After its last attack, it had stopped. It was not lying in wait, as it had been in the alley. It turned slowly, both arms held out from its body, as if it was testing the air. She found herself staring at the stump of its neck where its head had so recently sat. What are you? she wondered.
Raven moved her head slightly, looking at Cole from the corner of her eye while keeping as much of her attention as she could on the cloaked figure. “Why are-” Before should could finish asking the question, the figure lashed out venomously with its sword, whistling through the air in front of her face.
“Don’t speak,” Cole hissed, jumping back to avoid another sweep of the weapon aimed in his direction. “I think it can sense noise somehow.”
Raven nodded to show that she understood. When the figure stopped swinging its sword, she ducked and rolled across the ground between them, then sliced through the air as she rose. This time, the figure’s sword-hand flew from its wrist, still clutching the weapon. No blood, she thought.
With its remaining hand, the creature hit out at Raven again, once more knocking her to the ground. As she looked on, its fingers warped and twisted, turning in upon themselves to form a weapon that looked every bit of deadly as the sword that now lay a dozen paces away up the street. “What is it?” Cole gasped.
Raven groaned. She would feel the bruises the next day. Assuming I live that long. “I wish I knew,” she replied, before rolling aside as her attacker’s remaining arm flashed towards her. She scrambled away, until her back bumped against a wall. Glancing at the sword she had used to slice away the creature’s limbs, she saw that the previously sharp edge was now a mess of dents and notches.
Cole hovered uncertainly a few yards behind the creature. “What should I do?”
Before Raven could reply, shadows began to land on the street around them. As she watched, others emerged from the mouth of the alley opposite. They were bizarrely small and stunted, and for a moment she wondered whether the pain of her wounds had caused her to hallucinate. Then as they converged upon the headless figure, saw them for what they were: children. Their high-pitched voices raised in battle-cries, the small figures jumped at the creature, clinging to its legs, arm and torso, beating upon it with a variety of sharp, makeshift weapons. She saw broken bottles, splinters of wood bristling with rusty nails and more besides, biting into the creature’s clothing. Wordlessly, it convulsed and span, trying in vain to shake them free.
“Who are they?” she wondered aloud, watching the chaotic struggle. There were perhaps a dozen children in all, and the grime and ragged state of their clothes told her they were street-children like the one she had surprised earlier that night.
“Cole!” Raven glanced up the street, where a young man jogged breathlessly towards them, his loose brown cloak flapping behind him.
“And who in the seven hells is this?” she asked, her confusion growing.
“A friend,” Cole grinned, tearing his eyes from the spectacle of the urchins clinging to the desperate figure like riders fighting to keep their seat on a bucking stallion. “Cas, keep back,” he called to the running figure.
“Hit... its back.” The latest arrival came to a halt a few yards away, doubled over with hands on his knees, trying to force out the words while catching his breath. “Hard.”
Raven nodded and jumped to her feet. She could try and make sense of the increasingly bizarre situation later, but for now there was at last something that she could do. “Stand aside,” she commanded. The urchins immediately let go of the headless creature, scampering away in every direction. When they were clear, she charged at the grotesque figure, throwing herself at it with her full force. There was an almighty crash as they collided with the wall on the opposite side of the street. Beneath her grip on the creature’s frame she felt parts of its body come loose.
They landed in an untidy heap. Raven rolled quickly away and sprang back to her feet, but saw that such haste was unnecessary; the creature was still at last. All the same, she poked it tentatively with the toe of one boot to make sure.
“So,” she said, turning, when she had satisfied herself that her assailant was not about to lurch to its feet once more. “Not to sound ungrateful, but who are all you people?”
One of the larger street-children, his hair cropped closely against his scalp, stepped forward from the rest. His face split into a gap-toothed smile. “Name’s Jax,” he told her. “Titch peeped yer comin’ out of Ulthwick’s place this afternoon. We don’t see many with your, er, colourin’... less than we used to leastways... so he followed yer to the inn where you left yer boyfriend. We’ve had eyes on you ever since.”
Raven ignored the description of her relationship with Cole, and the suggestive leer that had accompanied it, and instead thought about her feelings of being watched that evening. She supposed that it was good to have it confirmed that it was not simply paranoia. “Well, that’s the how of it out of the way, but why? What interest do you have in us?”
The boy called Jax sniffed dismissively, then wiped the back of one hand across his leaking nose. “None,” he replied. “But this devil killed a mate o’ mine not long back. Seemed to me that if we followed yer, more than likely we’d run into him sooner or later. Any that takes one of us gets paid back in kind.”
“Fair enough.” Raven took stock of the boy standing before her. Probably no older than ten, judging by his height, and yet he stood a clear head above any of the younger street-children behind him. But despite his appearance of youth, his eyes were old before their time. They sat above his easy smile like chips of flint. Not eyes that engendered trust, though in this matter she found she believed his words. “And what about him?” She pointed at the lanky young man who had joined them last. He was sat on his haunches, poking at the remains of the fallen creature.
Jax shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest.”
“He’s a friend,” Cole said. “Caspian, one of the novices from the Crag. I’m sure I’ve spoken of him.”
“It rings a bell,” she conceded. “What is he doing here?”
“Helping to save your life, I believe,” the young man said in a quiet voice. From within the depths of the creature’s crumpled cloak, he lifted a cylindrical object about the length of her forearm. Strange runes had been carved into its surface, which glowed faintly green in the moonlight. “As to why I’m in the city, that’s a long tale probably best saved until we’re off the street and safe from the eyes of the city watch.”
Raven approached him, her gaze drawn to the strange cylinder. “What is that?” she asked. “I’ve never seen its like before.”
Caspian turned the object in his hands, examining it closely. “I have.”
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Raven looked down at the broken figure. Around the spot where it had fallen were other objects; small bands of metal, coiled springs and steel discs no larger than a coin, the edge of which were ridged with blunt teeth. “What is all
this?”
“Something I didn’t expect to find here,” Caspian replied. “I’m not sure yet what it means, but I don’t think that it’s anything good.” He stood, secreting the long cylinder in a hidden pocket. “Leave the rest,” he added. “It will leave the guards that find it scratching their heads I’m sure, but I doubt it can do them any harm now.”
Cole stooped and picked up another, larger object. “What about this?” He tossed it towards her. “Have it mounted and it would make a lovely trophy.”
She glanced at the object she held. It was the severed head of the creature. She saw now that it was not a mask at all; where its face should have been was a smooth plate of blacksteel, polished to such a shine that its surface was like a mirror. As she looked down, her own face stared back at her. “Caspian, I think you should tell me everything you know,” she said.
The young man peered anxiously along the street. “Gladly, but not here. The threat that caused the curfew is past, I believe, but I’d rather not try explaining that to any guardsmen that happen across us.”
“Let’s return to the inn,” Cole suggested. “The room is private enough and it isn’t too far from here.”
Unable to think of a better alternative, Raven nodded. The three of them went to leave, when the street children suddenly surrounded them. That many of them still held the weapons they had attacked the strange creature with was a fact not lost on her.
“About that...” Jax sounded almost apologetic. “We was asked to bring back any survivors. Somebody wants to speak to yer.”
Raven sighed inwardly. Why was nothing ever simple? “Do you think you can stop us leaving?” In truth, even if she were not exhausted after the fight, she would not have raised her hands against the children. But she hoped the threat of it would be sufficient.
It wasn’t. “Mebbe, mebbe not,” Jax replied speculatively. Then his face split into another lop-sided grin. “Might just be easier to come with us, though. You’ll be safe enough. We wouldn’t harm the one who helped us get revenge for ol’ Rawls.”
He gestured at the alley she had already ventured into twice that night. Cole looked at her questioningly, and she nodded. It seemed they had little choice but to meet whoever it was that pulled the strings of the imperial city’s street-children.
* * *
“The Charnel Arms,” Cole read aloud, peering up at the peeling sign hanging from the squat, tumbledown building. The three of them were swiftly ushered though a rickety door and into the gloom beyond. “Sounds charming.”
“Be on your guard,” Raven murmured so that only they could hear. “Our captors may have promised us safe passage, but there’s no guarantee the same holds true for whoever leads them.”
It had taken a short while for their entourage to guide them through the maze of back-alleys, away from the clean wide streets and into areas where it was clear city watch patrols were the exception and not the norm.
Despite the late hour, and in flagrant disregard for the curfew, the smoke-filled tavern was crowded. Gangs of surly drinkers gathered around chipped and uneven tables, eyeing them with suspicion as they entered. At the sight of the street-children, though, their attention returned to their drinks. In one corner of the room, a fight broke out, blood flying as two men went at each other with knives. A few moments later, both were dragged past them by a tall, powerfully built bouncer and hurled into the street.
“Pretty quiet night, considerin’,” said Jax, grinning.
“To think you put me up at that stuffy old inn,” Cole chimed in. “If only we’d known a place like this was available.”
Caspian glanced nervously around them. “I see that numerous brushes with death haven’t harmed your sense of humour.”
Cole thought about it for a few moments. “I suppose you just get used to it after a while,” he replied.
Raven sighed. “You’d better take us to whoever we’re here to see,” she told their escort.
The other street-children melted away like shadows before the sun, while the shaven-haired boy led them past the tables towards the rear of the tavern. As they approached a door leading to one of the back rooms, he turned to Cole. “If I was you I’d keep your jests to yerself from now on,” he said. “Begrum ain’t the jolly sort.” With that, he knocked tentatively upon the door.
There was an indistinct bark from within, and Jax gestured for them to enter. Inside, the room was dim, lit by a solitary candle set on a wooden table. The only other furniture visible within its glow was a chair occupied by a heavily bearded man. He did not look up as they entered. His attention was entirely focused on the apple in his hand, which he was peeling meticulously with a long, sharp-looking knife.
“Three little fish.” His voice was gruff. “A fool, a monk and a woman that acts like a man. A right queer catch you’ve brought me, Jax.” At a flick of his hand, the shaven-headed boy fled the room, closing the door behind him.
“How did he know I was a monk?” Cole whispered to Raven.
The bearded man lifted his eyes at last, and regarded them from beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows. With deliberate care, he sliced a chunk from the fruit and placed it in his mouth. “I’d be careful what words fall from that tongue, boy,” he said after a long pause. “It wouldn’t be the first to end up upon my floor.”
“Begrum, I assume?” Raven let his earlier insult pass without comment. She had heard worse over the years. The man’s dark, deep-set eyes flicked from Cole to her. “You have me at a disadvantage.” He cut another lump from the apple. “For now.”
“Why did you bring us here?”
The man chewed slowly, pondering the question. “Firstly, to thank you,” he said eventually. “You took care of the devil that did in my lad... and all the others.”
“How can you be so sure?” Raven crossed her arms and adopted a defiant stance.
Begrum grunted. “Because Jax is a good boy who follows orders.”
“It wasn’t a man,” said a quiet voice. All three others in the room turned to look at Caspian. The young man’s cheeks flushed.
“So what was it?” Begrum did not so much as raise an eyebrow at this new information, though he seemed rattled. Clearly he was a man that, despite his chosen surroundings, did not like to be kept in the dark.
Caspian shrugged. “A creature, made of metal,” he replied. “Beyond that, I cannot say.” Cannot or will not? Raven wondered, thinking about the strange cylinder he had taken from the body. And then there was the matter of his knowing how to dispatch the creature. Has he encountered them before?
Begrum chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, considering his words. “But it’s dead?” Raven nodded, and he appeared satisfied. “Then you did the city a favour, but don’t expect to be paid for it. It’s a puzzle, but we have ways of getting to the bottom of it.”
“Good, well, we’ll not bother sending you a bill in that case,” said Cole. “But if that’s all then we’d better be going.”
With a sudden jerk of his arm, the bearded man slammed the point of his knife into the tabletop. “None that come in here leave until I says so,” he growled.
“Is this how you treat all those new to the city?” Raven asked, unimpressed by the threat.
Begrum smiled, an oddly out-of-place expression on his brutish face. “Only those that interest me.” He worked the blade from the table and cut another slice of apple. “Strange stories reach my ears from time to time,” he continued, through a mouthful of the fruit. “Why, only this morning, my little mice saw the old Talgarth carriage pull into town, with two guards no less. Now, we knows those old skinflints of old; many a young lad of mine has dipped their fingers into a Talgarth purse and come away even poorer. Stranger still, once they were out of sight of the gates, the guards wander off. It was almost like that pair was trying to sneak into the city unnoticed. Would you know anything about that?”
“Perhaps those guards had just reached the end of their service with the Tagarths.” Raven’s face gave noth
ing away.
“Could be,” Begrum conceded. “Still, it’s very unusual for that old buzzard to willingly let go of anything she’s paid for once she’s got her claws into it. But perhaps it is as you say.” He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with his gaze. “I do sit up and take notice though when those same guards break curfew to sneak a peek at that bloody tower. And here we are.” His eyes took in each of them in turn. “Why did you come to my city?” he asked, his voice soft yet no less threatening for that.
“We’re thinking of joining the Order,” Cole blurted. “My friend here joined up last month and wrote to me about it, and I thought it sounded like fun.”
The bearded man smiled pleasantly. “The next lie that falls from those lips will be your last, my lad,” he said mildly. “I repeat the question. It would be wise to answer truthfully.”
Raven considered offering up another explanation, but she decided instead to roll the dice. “We seek entrance to the tower.” While the bearded man met her gaze, her hand slowly crept down to the hilt of the blade hanging at her belt.
“Why?”
“The Archon is planning something big. We don’t know exactly what, but we intend to stop it.” She shrugged. “It could even be happening now. By holding us here you risk allowing him to succeed.”
“What makes you think this?” The bearded man’s tone was ice.
Raven laughed. “Have you looked at the sky recently? Between the lightning storm sitting right above his tower and the green fire shooting up every night, it’s quite a show. What about all the happy, smiling people with green gems around their neck?”
“There’s also the small matter of a monastery to the north, slaughtered to a man at his command,” Cole added. There was no hint of mockery in his tone this time.
Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) Page 68