The Raven Tower

by Emma Miles

  ‘Jorrun.’ Osun glowered at him over his shoulder.

  He bowed toward his ‘master’, his face feeling warm with the rush of blood that flowed there. Kesta had slowed her steps, and he found himself walking more beside her than behind. He took in a sharp breath as her little finger curled around his; the lightest of touches. He was not surprised to find that she had more courage than he.

  He’d expected something grand and threatening but the room they were shown into was stark and cold. It was as large as Bractius’s throne room but empty of anything save a table and s single, tall chair. The flagstone floor was the same colour as the walls and nothing adorned them except for six lanterns. He breathed out in relief at the sight of them, trusting Azrael to be there. He realised that they had instinctively moved to stand together at the centre of the room and he purposefully stepped back to keep everyone, and the doors, in his sight. Milaiya was almost leaning on Kesta, he hoped the woman was stronger than she appeared for her own sake and Kesta’s.

  All of them turned as a loud crack echoed about the chamber, the door in the far wall opened. Jorrun tensed and sucked in air through his mouth. He had to stop his hands calling up flame; his palms itched. Two guards in leather armour entered and looked them over.

  ‘Your swords,’ one demanded.

  At once Osun, Jorrun, and Daviid’s man handed their weapons over. Jorrun silently cursed. He should have expected that. The two men took up position either side of the doorway. They waited. He could hear Daviid’s loud and rapid breathing. Osun glanced at him but Jorrun turned his eyes back to the floor. Kesta shifted her feet slightly. The door opened again, and a bald-headed man dressed in blood-red robes and dripping with gold walked in. Jorrun barely gave him a glance, his eyes finding the man that followed behind him. It was almost his own face he saw, older and beardless with grey in the long hair, but the eyes were his as were the jaw and nose. The man wore wide-legged black trousers and a dark-blue shirt, no weapon hung from his belt. The way this man walked proclaimed that he was the weapon. Jorrun felt his blood turn to ice.

  ‘Master!’ Osun dipped in a low bow and they all followed, all but Milaiya who threw herself to the floor, and Kesta who drew herself up and lifted her chin beneath her hood to face him.

  Dryn Dunham.

  His eyes, the colour of a stormy sky, searched all of their faces with painful slowness. Jorrun’s breathing was shallow as he endured the gaze with his head lowered and his eyes on the hem of Kesta’s dress. Dryn’s voice, when he spoke, was deep and slow, reverberating in a pleasant way.

  ‘Trader Daviid, I was intrigued by your note. My eldest son failed to secure me a fire-walker and yet here you are claiming your associate has one.’

  ‘Lord.’ There was a slight tremble to Osun’s voice. Jorrun lifted his eyes a little to better see his brother. ‘We have brought this woman not from the Fulmers, but from Elden. I can promise you she is a walker. May I?’ He took hold of the edge of her hood.

  He nodded. ‘Please do.’

  Jorrun had to stop himself stepping forward. Osun hesitated and flexed his fingers before taking hold of the cloth. He removed it clumsily, catching Kesta’s long, dark hair so that it fell back partially obscuring her face.

  Even so, the red-clothed necromancer sucked in air noisily, stepping forward and raking his teeth over his lower lip. Dryn’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Jorrun clenched his teeth as the Overlord of Chem’s eyes travelled over her.

  ‘How do you control her?’

  Jorrun realised he was breathing hard. His eyes went from his father to Kesta. As Dryn stalked closer her fingers curled up, her eyes narrowed, and her shoulders stiffened. He found his own hands closing into fists and he forced them to relax.

  ‘She was sold to the king of Elden in return for his aid to the Fulmers against you, master,’ Osun replied. ‘She has been made to obey.’

  Dryn’s head shot round and he stared at Osun unblinking. ‘Really?’

  Osun’s nostrils flared, but he otherwise held his ground. Jorrun felt the warmth of pride chasing away the chill of fear in his bones.

  Dryn Dunham stepped back, glancing at the others in the room. He paused when he came to Jorrun, the slightest of smiles twitched at his mouth. ‘Strip her, let me see what I’m buying.’

  ‘No!’ Jorrun sprang forward, putting himself between his father and Kesta. For the first time he looked his father straight in the eye.

  The whole world seemed to pause and Jorrun’s heart pounded in his ears.

  Dryn Dunham threw back his head and laughed. The sound went through Jorrun like a jagged blade. Jorrun’s fingers twitched, longing for the reassuring grip of his sword. His father found his eyes again and then moved over him with the same slow scrutiny with which he’d regarded Kesta. Jorrun didn’t move, but his shoulders rose and fell noticeably with his breathing.

  The guards had stepped forward, Milaiya curled into a tight ball with her hands over her head. Osun took a step toward where their swords had been placed and Daviid and his man backed away several feet. The bald-headed necromancer stared open-mouthed from Dryn to Jorrun.

  Movement caught Jorrun’s eye, and they all turned to stare as Kesta reached down to grab the hem of her skirt and pull it up over her head. Underneath she wore the trousers and tunic Jorrun had bought her and he saw the hilt of her dagger sticking out of her boot. The muscles of Jorrun’s face surged upward into a smile. Spirits, he loved that woman!

  Her posture changed, hips moving slightly as she secured her balance in a fighter’s stance. There was a challenging gleam in her eyes.

  Dryn’s eyes barely flickered, his mouth curling into a grin higher on one side of his mouth than the other and showing the glint of a canine. He turned to Jorrun. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t know you, son?’

  Jorrun’s mouth went dry. For years he’d dreamt of confronting his father, taking vengeance for his mother, ending the dominance of the necromancers over Chem. He couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.

  Osun replied for him. ‘Your sons, although there is no pride in that fact.’

  ‘Oh yes, the bloodless slave.’ Dryn’s lip curled in distaste. ‘I remember that I gave your worthless mother away for free.’

  Osun stiffened, his eyes darting toward the swords. Quickly Jorrun spoke. ‘That you’re our father is not even relevan—’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Dryn’s pale eyes flashed as he turned back to Jorrun. ‘So much potential and yet such a disappointment.’ He looked Jorrun up and down. ‘You could have been Overlord after me.’ He circled like a predator around to Jorrun’s other side. ‘Not just of Chem, but of Elden and the Fulmers. You could have had fifty women all finer than this one.’ He lifted his chin toward Kesta and grinned when he saw Jorrun react. ‘They get under your skin, you know, walkers. You think you’re safe with your amulet.’ He pointed at Jorrun’s chest. ‘But they worm their way in, make you think you love them. Make you think that worthless slaves of no blood are worth keeping. And they give you disloyal and ungrateful sons!’

  ‘Sounds like we give you what you deserve,’ Kesta snorted.

  Dryn hissed through his teeth. ‘Oh, you’ll get what you deserve!’

  Sparks flared behind Jorrun’s eyes and he called fire to the tips of his fingertips. He was shocked when Kesta laughed. Then she gritted her teeth. ‘Coward! You have never faced a walker whose wings you hadn’t clipped from birth!’

  She leapt and span, not toward Dryn but away, calling up a shield of air as she drew her dagger and sliced it through the throat of Daviid. Osun lunged for the swords, punching one of the guards in the stomach and face as he tried to stop him. The red necromancer drew flame to himself from one of the lanterns, his snarl turning to a scream of horror as the flame changed shape to become Azrael.

  Neither Dryn nor Jorrun moved, facing each other and drawing their magic close. Jorrun called up a swirl of air that circled his feet and ankles and held fire in his right hand. Dryn summoned a huge blaze be
fore him that changed his eyes to the orange of sunrise. He didn’t even blink as his red necromancer was engulfed in Azrael’s bright embrace. From the corner of his eye Jorrun saw Osun snatch up his sword, and he engaged the two guardsmen.

  ‘Well,’ Dryn said pleasantly. ‘They said you would be strong, Joryn, shall we see?’

  Dryn’s wall of flame expanded rapidly toward him and he ducked instinctively as he pulled the shield of air upward to surround himself. The force of his father’s magic sent him staggering backwards, and he had no chance to even contemplate striking back. The pressure relented as a second strong wind came from behind him and Dryn’s flames were forced back to curl up the wall and across the ceiling. Kesta had taken out Daviid’s man and came to stand at Jorrun’s side, their shields of air combined. They heard Osun swear as one of the guards broke away from him to run to the door and shout for help. Osun stabbed the man through the back and then kicked him aside, he ran to tip the table and tried to drag it across to the door.

  Dryn’s fire died down and he looked from Jorrun to Kesta, a smile still playing around his lips. Nothing in his expression gave him away as he sent a sudden gale not at them but toward Osun, hurling the man across the room with the heavy table tumbling after him. It was Kesta who called up a fierce whirlwind of her own, sending it around the room to smash the table against the wall inches from Osun. As both of the winds died Azrael shot toward the door in time to face two necromancers who came running in. As he had done in Mantu, the fire-spirit made himself gigantic and distorted his features to look terrifying. One of the necromancers reached into his pocket for a box and Azrael recoiled, shrinking rapidly. With a quick nod at Jorrun, Kesta ran to the door. She set fire to the shards of the table before lifting them and hurling them toward the two necromancers. They shielded easily and sent flames broiling out toward her.

  Jorrun gasped in air and almost lost his balance as the ground heaved beneath his feet. The flagstones cracked and several of them rose upward to form a crater as a jet of water ruptured, showering him with burning droplets. He sent a burst of fire toward his father even as he shielded, steam hissed like a host of angry demons, scorching his skin. The back of Jorrun’s shirt clung to him and he wiped the sweat from his face with his hand. He was breathing hard. It seemed that Dryn had no qualms about pulling his palace down around them. He strained to see through the air thick with condensation, a shadow the only warning that his father had moved closer. He couldn’t see Osun or Milaiya, but Kesta and Azrael had the necromancers retreating out of the doorway. He tried to rein in his fear, to slow his racing heart.

  ‘What is it you want, Joryn?’ His father’s voice was compelling, hypnotic.

  Jorrun clenched his jaw, backing slowly around, careful of each step as he tried to keep track of where Dryn Dunham was. It was hard not to listen to his voice, impossible not to let it touch every sensitive nerve.

  ‘Revenge for your mother? Poor, little slave boy. That is what you chose to cling to instead of rising to be Overlord of three lands?’

  He refused to answer although the words wormed in deep. Water flowed across the shattered flagstones. Summoning a little heat, he caused mist to rise.

  ‘Or is that what you want? Do you have more ambition than I gave you credit for? Are you here to take my Seat for yourself?’

  His father’s grinning face was suddenly before him. Jorrun recoiled and shielded quickly as fire lashed out to engulf him again. At the same time the flagstones cracked under him and the walls gave a mournful groan. He fell back hard, his shoulder blades and elbow smashing into the stone. His shield faltered, and heat seared his skin as he rolled out of the way.

  A strong wind pinned Jorrun down, aimed not at him but at Dryn. Kesta launched herself across the room to slash at Dryn with her dagger. The Chemman reacted with amazing speed, slamming up a shield and grabbing her wrist to pull her around and against him with her own dagger against her throat.

  Jorrun’s lungs froze mid-breath, his muscles went to water at the same time as blood rushed through his already hot skin. His eyes went straight to Kesta’s as he pushed himself up onto his side, neither of them blinked.

  Dryn Dunham laughed. ‘How disappointingly easy!’

  Jorrun didn’t even hear his father’s words, only the thundering of his heart. Kesta smiled, Jorrun took a breath.

  She dropped as though every tendon had been cut, her weight surprising Dryn as she slipped from his grip; the dagger caught the side of her jaw and left a deep line of red. Jorrun scrambled to his feet as Kesta came up onto hers. She spun away and called up flame but the Overlord drew up a wind that lifted her off the ground and hurled her against the wall. Jorrun heard the crack of her skull. Dryn threw the dagger, and it embedded itself between her breasts as she slid down onto the flagstones, her eyes glazing over.

  The world turned black and red. Jorrun took in a single, sharp breath, the air stabbing at his heart and lungs. Tears bled from his eyes as his skin flushed with heat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  Not her!

  Anyone but her!

  Dryn Dunham laughed again. ‘I told you walkers make you weak.’

  A roar rose up from deep within his soul and he turned to his father whose image fragmented. He called on every ounce of his magic, feeling the muscles of his physical body strain to bursting. He ripped up every loose flagstone and sent them flying toward Dryn with fire and water. His father called up a shield but stumbled back, further and further toward the cracked wall. Jorrun gave a cry of pain, his hand going to his head and his knees buckling, but he didn’t stop. His father tried to counter with fire so hot it turned blue, but Jorrun turned it away, eyes bulging with the strain. He staggered forward as he reached the end of his magic, collapsing to one knee. All around him fragments of stone hit the floor. The wind howled around the chamber and slowly died away, the air stilled. Looking up, he took in a long breath through his teeth, his father’s magic had also faltered and for the first time there was fear on Dryn’s face. With huge effort Jorrun stood and pulled himself up to his full height.

  Osun stepped out of the fog. He swung his sword and hacked at Dryn Dunham’s neck. The first blow caught in his father’s spine and it took a second strike to take his head off completely. Osun stood looking at Jorrun, covered in blood and soot. There was no smile, no triumph. The sword slipped from his hand.

  Kesta!

  Jorrun forced his aching legs into a run. He threw himself to her side and looked at her empty, half-closed eyes. Holding his breath, he touched the handle of the dagger and then reached out shaking fingers to move aside her wet hair and feel for a pulse in her neck.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dia: Kingdom of Elden

  ‘How many?’ Dia asked. They sat in an exhausted huddle beneath the trees. About forty warriors were still with them, including those from the Fulmers.

  ‘Too many for us to take on as we are.’ Heara shook her head. ‘If the fancy clothes and love for skull jewellery is anything to go by, they have two sorcerers. That and several creatures. Not many actual warriors though.’

  ‘How far to the hold?’ She turned to Merkis Vilnue.

  He pulled at his greying beard. ‘I’d say just over a mile. If we cut inland through the forest, we can go around those Chemmen and come at the hold from the east. That would be the sensible option.’

  Dia chewed at her thumbnail, her eyes un-focusing. She had no power left, and neither did Everlyn, but she didn’t like to leave those sorcerers wandering about to just attack them later.

  ‘Let me deal with them.’ Heara moved into a crouch, ready to be off.

  Dia’s brows moved together above the bridge of her nose as she regarded her friend. ‘Are you sure?’

  Heara grinned and nodded but butterflies moved about in Dia’s stomach.

  ‘Take our warriors with you.’

  Heara shook her head, her grin leaving. ‘They would get in the way. I’m quic
ker, stealthier, when alone.’

  ‘No risks!’ She reached out to touch her friend’s arm. Vilnue remained silent, looking down at his hands.

  Heara nodded once and was off.

  ‘We’d best move on to the hold.’ Dia reached out and squeezed one of Vilnue’s hands. ‘Take us east, then, Merkis.’

  ***

  Heara rejoined them about half a mile into the forest. Dia let out a breath and forced her muscles to relax.

  ‘I only got one.’ Heara wrinkled her nose. ‘The second shielded as soon as the first fell and then started throwing fire randomly into the forest. I’m afraid there’ll be a lot of damage to the trees around here; hopefully not to the animals.’

  ‘It is probably just as well to chase them away from the dead men.’ She recalled the sight of half-eaten livestock on the Fulmers and shuddered. ‘Take point?’

  ‘Of course.’ Heara skipped past Merkis Vilnue, looking him up and down with a smile. The Elden warrior’s face flushed a little.

  ‘You must find our ways strange.’ Dia stepped up beside him as they proceeded through the trees.

  ‘I find I like your ways.’ Vilnue glanced at her, staying alert to everything around them. ‘Everything is so much simpler with Fulmer women who say what’s on their mind and, er, take what they want.’

  ‘You never once flinched at taking command from me.’

  Vilnue shrugged. ‘I was told you were in charge, so you’re in charge. You have never given me reason to think you shouldn’t be.’

  She snorted. She’d been about to say that sometimes she wondered … but the fact was that even when she did have doubts she wasn’t afraid to make a decision and take its consequences. She had no reason to put herself down.

  They made their way as silently as they could through the forest. Night was thick around them and several times Dia stubbed her tired feet on roots and stones.

  ‘The walls of the hold are just ahead.’ Heara came hurrying back to inform them.

  They came to the edge of the clearing cautiously. The earthworks were simpler than Dia had imagined for the home of Elden’s Dark Man, but there was something somehow welcoming about them; perhaps just the relief of coming to a relatively safe place in a foreign land. She could see the famous Raven Tower, it was completely dark.