The Raven Tower

by Emma Miles

  As the water subsided and poured away from their invisible shield, Dia changed her magic to pull at the tide, increasing the speed and ferocity of the river’s flow. A stab of pain sparked within her skull and she dropped to one knee. Heara was beside her at once and Everlyn faltered.

  ‘Keep going,’ Dia snarled through gritted teeth. She staggered up, Heara supporting her under her shoulders. She was breathing hard. The deck rocked and Vilnue almost skidded across the wooden planks toward them.

  ‘Gods!’ He gazed wide-eyed at Dia, his mouth open in a wild grin. ‘That was impressive!’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Dia turned to lean against the railing, trying to see through the gloom downriver. The storm still grumbled on, lightning forking downward toward the earth.

  ‘There!’ Heara pointed.

  Something large moved, blacker against the darkness. First one ship and then another came fighting impossibly against the tide.

  ‘If they had any sense, they’d just anchor up and come at us again in the morning,’ Vilnue murmured.

  ‘Arrogance.’ Heara snorted. ‘The man who leads them feels he has to prove himself the more powerful.’

  ‘He might not be wrong.’ Dia rubbed tiredly at her face. She counted seven ships of varying size, all of them showing signs of damage from broken rails to smashed masts and tangled sails.

  She could feel the magic that flowed from the front three. So; three strong necromancers to face. Which ship contained Adelphy?

  ‘Everlyn, do you have enough strength left to deflect fire if they send it back at us?’

  The younger walker nodded, her face drawn.

  Dia cupped her hands and drew flame from the air as Heara snatched up her bow and joined the two men at the rail. The foremost and central ship was the obvious target, but she picked the one on the right and sent two balls of fire toward it. Almost at once they were deflected away, Dia showed her teeth in a smile as she sent wind of her own to curl her fire balls around and smashed them into one of the unprotected smaller crafts. From all three of the larger ships a blast of flame came back at them and Everlyn cried out as she was battered back, Dia once again strengthened her barrier with one of her own. A sharp stab of pain split her skull in two and she felt something trickle from her nose. She wiped at it with the back of her hand. Blood.

  ‘I see one,’ Heara hissed.

  Dia nodded. ‘Close your eyes.’ She called up a blast of intense blue and then exploded it into bright white. Beside her Heara opened her eyes again and took her shot. She screamed in triumph as the Chemman necromancer dropped, an arrow through his belly. ‘Shaherra! For Shaherra!’

  Everlyn fell against the rail and one of the warriors hurried forward to grab her. Blood trickled faster from Dia’s left nostril. Even so, she called flames to her hands in small bursts, faster and faster, spinning them toward the ship of the fallen sorcerer and behind to the unprotected ships. Some of them caught and smoke billowed up. When the Chemmen replied with strong blasts of their own, Dia was barely able to call upon her magic, all of them dropped to the deck as flames licked and cracked above their heads, setting their ship alight.

  ‘Your archers,’ Dia panted to Vilnue who had fallen beside her, red and black blurred her vision. ‘Your archers then abandon ship!’

  ‘Archers!’ Vilnue bellowed. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing Heara by the back of her tunic and hoisting her to her feet. ‘Volley!’

  Heara stooped and lifting Dia threw her over her shoulder. While arrows were loosed, they ran for the side of the ship. A returning arrow struck Vilnue in the shoulder as he shielded Dia with his own body.

  ‘Abandon ship!’ He roared. ‘All ashore!’

  Heara dropped Dia to her feet and shook her to rouse her enough to respond. Heara saw the arrow protruding from Vilnue and with a brief glance into the Eldeman’s brown eyes she reached round him to snap the shaft. He grunted at the pain but didn’t hesitate in dropping over the side of the ship to cling to the ladder. He took most of Dia’s weight between himself and the side of the ship as they made their slow way down. Already the king’s own warship was engulfed in smoke and flame as its crew leapt the distance to shore or scrambled down the other rope ladders.

  ‘Where do we go?’ Heara demanded of the Merkis.

  ‘Northold is the nearest place that might still be defensible,’ Vilnue replied. ‘The Raven Tower; but there will be enemies between us and them now.’

  ‘We go there,’ Dia said, her voice little more than a breath. ‘The Raven Tower.’

  Heara nodded at Vilnue and then, setting her shoulder to Dia’s stomach, lifted the smaller woman over her shoulder again. ‘Lead the way, Merkis.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jorrun: Covenet of Chem

  He forced his muscles to relax and unclenched his fists, recalling Milaiya’s warning that he didn’t look like a servant. Every instinct was screaming at him to draw his sword. Was Azrael near? There was no way of knowing in this tumult of human activity. Men crowded the streets, laughing, brazen, stalking slowly, eyes darting to see who was watching. Geranna houses plied their sweet, sickly trade and clean fronted eating establishments pretended refinement by offering wine. Skin houses predominated and Jorrun couldn’t bring himself to look at the tortured women there, painfully aware of Kesta at his side. Some of the women that stood outside with beckoning hands and too naked flesh were empty eyed; others wore hazy smiles and glazed gazes, overcome by the drugs they took and the incense they smoked until they no longer cared.

  Not just the women here took opiates and breathed in fumes to escape from a meaningless and cruel life. Men also sprawled on the cobbles and stumbled in and out of the open doors. The temples were worse. Priests yelled out their warnings and curses, red faced, frowning, gesturing wildly. Outside the temple of Domarra, two men were being flogged while the temple of Hacren had several undead men and women chained up outside. Every hair on Jorrun’s body seemed to prickle and stand on end while his stomach cramped. From inside the darkness of the death God’s temple came the sound of laughter, screaming, and a single voice cried out unintelligibly.

  He swallowed back bile, picking his feet up as they faltered. Osun glanced over his shoulder at him, his lips pursed, and his eyes darkened by a frown.

  Jorrun took in a breath through his mouth, regretting it instantly as a waft of incense scorched his throat. Beside him Kesta made a small sound, and she stopped. He followed the direction in which she seemed to be looking, her voice was tight as she forced words out. ‘They sell men too.’

  Several male slaves stood below the porch of a brightly lit shop wearing nothing but chains.

  Jorrun’s chest muscles tightened, his vision blurred for a moment and forgetting, he reached out to touch her arm. ‘Everyone is for sale here. We need to go.’

  ‘Mistress!’ Milaiya pleaded, her eyes huge as they darted around.

  Jorrun took a step forward and his muscles loosened a little as Kesta followed. Osun led them up some steps that ran between a geranna house and an incense shop. A group of five men showed more interest in Kesta’s hidden form than Jorrun liked, his hand went to his sword hilt and he showed his teeth, they turned back to their business. They followed a narrow pathway that ran behind and above the main street and Osun came to a halt at a large, ornate door. He banged on it firmly with the side of his fist and moments later a servant opened it.

  ‘I need to see Daviid.’

  ‘And you are?’ The servant raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Master, is what you call me! Get him now.’ He kicked the door open wider, and the servant scuttled back.

  Jorrun strained his ears to listen, tightening and loosening his toes within his boots. His fingers twitched toward his sword hilt. Voices were followed by firm steps that took their time.

  ‘Osun!’ A tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes, set a little too widely apart, appeared in the doorway. ‘Well, I didn’t expect you! How long has it been? Five years?’

  �
�Six.’ Osun reached out to shake the man’s hand. ‘Listen, Daviid, I’m after a favour and I’m willing to cut you in on a deal that could set us both up for life. Can I come in?’

  ‘I’m intrigued.’ Daviid gestured for him to follow.

  The hallway was narrow and dark, but the room he took them to was large and lit by several oil lamps on the walls. Books lined the shelves and Jorrun couldn’t help but run his eyes over the spines. Account ledgers were set out on a table, but the glass of brandy and book beside the deeply cushioned chair suggested Daviid hadn’t been working. ‘Tell me,’ the Chemman merchant prompted.

  ‘It would be easier to show you,’ Osun smiled. ‘Jorrun, take off her covering.’

  He took the edge of Kesta’s hood and snatched it off, she spun about to face him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Her mismatched green eyes were like daggers cutting into his soul as she stared at him unblinking. His breath caught painfully in his throat at the fear he saw in her face. Daviid stepped forward and reached up a hand to take hold of her chin. Jorrun caught the movement of her fingers as she clenched her fist and her muscles tensed. He darted forward and grabbed her wrist before she could throw a punch. She stamped down hard on his foot and tried to elbow him in the stomach, but he wrapped his left arm tight around her and stepped forward to press his body against her back.

  Use your knowing! He silently willed her. Kesta, feel what I’m feeling! He wished he could rip off his amulet.

  Her struggling stopped. Had she understood? He tried to feel calm, not knowing how to send his feelings the way a walker did. He turned his head slightly to hide his face from the others and breathed in the scent of her hair. He opened his heart, closing his eyes briefly at the pain. I love you, do you feel that?

  He glanced up to see Milaiya glaring at him.

  ‘As you can see, she is still quite wild,’ Osun smiled smugly. ‘A genuine walker from the Fulmers.’ He clasped his hands together and raised them to his chin, watching Daviid’s reaction.

  The merchant looked Kesta up and down, lingering on her eyes and face. He licked his lips and Jorrun felt her tense against him again.

  ‘Well, Daviid.’ Osun slapped a hand on his thigh and grinned. ‘Do you still sell to the Overlord? Think you can get me in to see Dryn Dunham?’

  Daviid raised his eyebrows. ‘For this, I should think so. When do you want to see him?’

  ‘Sooner rather than later,’ Osun nodded toward Kesta. ‘It isn’t easy to control.’

  Kesta gave a low growl and Jorrun squeezed her wrist warningly.

  ‘Well, wait here a moment and I’ll see what I can arrange.’ The blonde man gave a shake of his head, regarding Kesta again before smiling at Osun.

  The moment the man left the room Jorrun let Kesta go. She whipped round to slap him hard across the face. ‘You could have warned me of your plan!’

  His ear rang, and he moved his jaw to loosen it, thinking he’d been lucky she hadn’t thrown a punch. Osun spoke before he had a chance to make his excuses.

  ‘No one stopped you joining us to make our plans.’

  More heat rose to Jorrun’s face, surely Osun hadn’t done this on purpose to spite Kesta because she’d avoided him after finding out about him and Milaiya? He saw Kesta’s hands curl into fists again and he quickly stepped between them. ‘We can’t fall out now. Kesta, Osun, I need you both.’

  Osun shrugged and then folded his arms over his chest. Kesta narrowed her eyes at him and turned to Jorrun. Her eyes softened, and she studied his face in a way that made his pulse quicken. How much had she read with her knowing?

  ‘So, what are the chances of us getting to see Dryn Dunham alone?’ she asked eventually, her gaze only briefly flickering toward Osun.

  ‘It won’t be completely alone,’ Osun replied. ‘Especially, I’m afraid, as we are boasting a walker from the Fulmers. He’ll take precautions in case you have power. Our advantage will be that he won’t expect any of the rest of us to have any. I imagine he’ll have some guards and at least one member of his coven with him.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we be better off trying to find our own way into his palace and catching him alone?’ Kesta placed a hand on her hip.

  ‘Know a way in do you?’ Osun smiled.

  Jorrun placed a hand on Kesta’s shoulder as she took a step forward. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. ‘This is the plan we have. We would be unlikely to be able to just sneak in and to do so would take days, weeks even, of staking the place out and hoping not to be caught. A direct approach like this will take them off guard.’

  ‘You hope.’ She knocked his hand aside and took a step back.

  ‘When we get in there, we should defend against Dryn and take out those around him as quickly as possible before concentrating on him. I don’t know where Azrael has got to, we’ll have to hope he is able to join us.’

  One of the lanterns sparked and he couldn’t help the grin that grew rapidly on his face. The bruise on his cheek made the smile uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m here, Jorrun, alwayss here.’

  Some of his tension fell away, he hadn’t realised how tightly he’d been holding himself together. ‘Thank you, bug.’ Milaiya caught his eyes, and he turned to look at the red-haired slave. She looked pale, fine lines creased the edges of her eyes, but her posture was straight and upright. ‘Milaiya, if we start fighting you should just get out of the way and stay down. Or … or perhaps we should see if we can leave you here with Daviid?’

  She shook her head vigorously.

  He took in a deep breath and regarded Kesta. A huge part of him regretted walking away that night in Taurmouth. They might die soon and there was too much unsaid and undone – especially on his part.

  The door opened, and he started, all of them turning around guiltily as Daviid stepped back in. ‘I’ve sent a message, we just have to wait for a reply.’

  Jorrun was relieved when Kesta voluntarily put the covering back on over her head and face although her murderous looks did add credibility to their story. The two women moved into a corner and Jorrun placed himself between them and the rest of the room, head down. Kesta’s arm brushed against him as she turned her back to them all to face the bookshelves. His limbs felt heavy and his stomach twisted itself in knots. Did she hate him? Did she regret coming here to fight with him?

  Osun and Daviid talked of trade and of the Arkoom merchant’s business. It became apparent very quickly that he traded in humans, Jorrun’s nose wrinkled in distaste despite his efforts not to react. He could only imagine how Kesta was feeling. She was too still behind him, like a storm waiting to break. He knew Osun well enough to know he was acting, playing a part, and he was very good at it. Kesta wouldn’t know that though.

  Unlike himself, Osun had never been able to fit in and settle in Elden. Perhaps it was their four years difference. Chem had had more time to break and manipulate his half-brother. Osun had been dismissed as useless as he’d shown no sign of having inherited magical blood, the beatings he’d received had been far more brutal than anything Jorrun had endured. Osun had learnt to survive by studying people, knowing what they wanted and needed, becoming good at anything he chose to do including the lowliest of tasks. He’d once been the most subservient of slaves and it broke Jorrun’s heart that his brother could not seem to break free from the need of a master, even if an imagined one.

  They heard someone knock at the door and the servant moved along the hall. Jorrun tensed, fighting against the urge to look up. Kesta placed three fingertips very lightly against his back. He didn’t know if she was comforting herself or him, but he breathed easier.

  The servant came to the room and bowed. ‘A message, master.’

  He held out a scroll, leaving as soon as Daviid took it. Jorrun tensed his toes inside his boots.

  ‘He will see you.’ Daviid grinned at Osun.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now.’

  ***

  Jorrun’s head buzzed as his nerves momentarily got the be
tter of him. Daviid walked just ahead with Osun and a guard of his own, leaving Jorrun to follow last behind the women. He took them up another set of steps away from the main street of the temple district, even so the disturbing smells and sounds seemed determined to bite at his senses. They reached a main road and proceeded to an iron gate. Daviid showed the guards his letter, and they opened the gate to let them through into a huge garden.

  Night may have fallen but the way to the palace was brightly lit by lanterns hanging from iron posts. The garden was actually beautiful, and he found himself breathing more easily. Flagstone paths wound through clipped hedges and he could hear water falling gently somewhere close. The musky scent of roses was refreshing and somewhat heady after the cloying incense and distressing human smells. The only thing that jarred the calm of the gardens were the guards that patrolled it. Twice Daviid had to show his letter, and they were directed around to the side of the grey-stone palace.

  The trade entrance was guarded by four men, one of whom was dressed in expensive clothing and adorned with jewellery depicting symbols of the death God. Jorrun surmised that he must be a necromancer and kept his head lowered and his face turned away as much as possible. Once again, Daviid showed his letter. Jorrun found himself holding his breath, and he took a step closer to Kesta. He could feel the blood pulsing in the main artery of his neck.

  ‘Go on.’ The necromancer nodded toward the door with his head. ‘The man inside will show you the way.’

  Jorrun tried to concentrate on his surroundings to stop the doubts that pushed at the edge of his thoughts. It was too late to turn back now either way, the Chemmen would never let Kesta walk out of here. If he didn’t fight, if he didn’t win, he was condemning her to a life beyond unbearable. Her strength was different than his mother’s had been, his mother had endured by being subtle and infinitely patient, by finding hope in small things. Kesta would fight. She wouldn’t stop fighting. And they wouldn’t stop hurting her. It made him feel sick just to think of it.

  He tripped over his own feet, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall.