Mark of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  Mother never explained exactly what happened, other than House Ravenwood was handed over to the Dominia Empire during the razing. Maybe she didn’t know. All they knew was that Rabanna was the only one to survive as a young woman and escape the empire, secretly making her way back to the mountains, where she married the new head of Ravenwood and kept her power a secret, a secret passed down for centuries.

  But what was dreamwalking like before that, before we used it for uncovering secrets? Why were we given this gift? How was it used before Rabanna?

  Selene pressed two fingers to her forehead. It seemed either no one knew, or no one wanted to tell her. She was tempted to use the hidden hot spring farther down the caverns to soothe her muscles, but even more she wanted to continue her research in the library. So she wet down one of the cloth strips on the table with a nearby pitcher of water, stripped off her training clothes, and wiped down her body. The beautiful hairstyle Renata had woven was loose, but still held. Selene tugged her gown back on, laced the sash, and pulled on her boots. There. A proper lady again.

  But deep inside she knew she would never be a proper lady, not like the ladies of other Great Houses.

  Selene made her way upstairs and through the sitting room, passing Amara as her sister headed down. The two exchanged glances but nothing more.

  Selene spent the rest of the day in the library alone. Rain gently tapped against the window as a spring shower swept across the mountain peaks. She tucked her legs up beneath her dress and curled into a chair near the window, another book in hand. The library of House Ravenwood was not as big or spectacular as that of the other houses, notably House Vivek, but it did contain a couple of rare tomes, contributions from her father when he married her mother.

  The book she held was smaller than most, bound up in leather and held closed by a long cord. She undid the cord and carefully opened it. It was a written account by a Vivek historian about the Great Houses. The people of the seven nations were once part of the Dominia Empire but migrated to these lands. It went on to describe the genealogy of each house before the razing of the empire. Fascinating, but not what she was looking for. Selene closed the book and headed for the long row of bookshelves. What she really wanted to know was what gifts were given to each house and for what purpose. But with many house secrets guarded so carefully, the chance of actually finding something about the houses was remote.

  Still, she would look.

  Dinner came and went, and Selene found herself slipping into her loose dark clothing and placing her twin swords in their sheaths around her waist, ready for another excursion with her mother. As the night deepened and the castle grew quiet, her stomach tightened more and more until she thought the little dinner she had managed to eat would come back up.

  She placed a splayed hand across her middle and took some deep breaths while imagining locking away her heart in a cedar chest.

  Don’t think. Breathe in. Don’t feel. Breathe out.

  Selene closed her eyes and pictured the people around the castle: the servants, the guards, the families. They needed her to do this. If it wasn’t for the money Ravenwood brought in, the entire mountain nation would be impoverished.

  Everyone was counting on her. Her house. Her people.

  But is this the only way?

  She clenched her hand into a fist and pressed it against her middle and went back to breathing.

  She kept up the mantra until the moon, half hidden by clouds, revealed it was time to go. She met her mother down on the first floor, and they made their way to the servants’ quarters.

  “Tonight we will be visiting my maidservant, Hagatha. This time you will enter the dreamscape alone and will search for Hagatha’s fears. Some fears are easy to find, right there in the open. Others are hidden away within a person’s dreams. Each time you go on a mission, the first night will be spent searching for that person’s most intimate fear.”

  “What if you don’t find it the first time?” Selene whispered.

  “Then you go again. You cannot create a nightmare until you know what the person fears. As you become accustomed to the dreamscape, it will become easier for you to find out the sleeper’s secrets.”

  “Have you ever encountered a person who had no fears?”

  Her mother slowed. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Once. Not so much that he had no fear, but that his fear did not control him. His is the only mission I failed.”

  Selene wanted to ask who it was but knew her mother would never tell. Each mission was held in sacred secrecy.

  A light appeared at the end of the corridor. Her mother motioned toward the side hall, and Selene followed. They waited behind two pillars that divided the herb garden from the castle as the night watchman went by. When the light dimmed, her mother stepped away from the column and glanced around the corner, then waved toward Selene. They made their way to the servants’ quarters and slipped into Hagatha’s room.

  Though as small as Petur’s, the room was vastly different. A homemade rug graced the stone floor and a small quilt hung against the wall to the left. Fresh flowers stood in a clay vase set on a table beneath the single window. Embers glowed in the fireplace near the bed.

  Her mother knelt down first beside the bed. “I will wait here for a time while you explore Hagatha’s dreamscape,” she whispered. “Then I will come find you and see what you discovered.”

  Selene gazed down at Hagatha. Wrinkles covered the old woman’s face, and her white hair looked like sheep’s wool. A snore escaped her thin lips, and her withered fingers twitched above the faded quilt.

  Hagatha was a stern maidservant and more than once had turned her fierce gaze on Selene and Amara. But she loved their mother more than life itself.

  The lump inside Selene’s throat expanded until she could hardly breathe. Why would her mother do this to her loyal maidservant? There were dozens of other servants they could use. Or had she become so callous, her heart so locked away, that she didn’t feel anymore?

  Was this the kind of woman Selene herself was destined to become?

  Selene ran a hand down the side of her face, her heart racing inside her chest.

  I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.

  Remember your people. And if you don’t do this, then Amara will. Or even Opheliana someday.

  Selene dropped her hand and held it in a fist. She had no choice. Lock away your heart. Feel nothing. Do the job.

  She reached for Hagatha’s right hand and placed her palm over the translucent skin, then passed into the dreamscape.

  Unlike Petur’s dream, Hagatha’s dream world held color, although faded. Her mind drifted in and out of different memories. Selene spread her wings and took flight, watching the landscape change beneath her, watching Hagatha’s recollections. The farther she flew, the younger Hagatha became. Most of the dreams were incoherent: laughing with the servants, brushing her mother’s hair, quiet walks in the herb garden.

  Now Hagatha was young. A chill flickered through Selene’s subconscious, just a thread, but she felt it and moved toward that thought. Young Hagatha stood on a mountain path with a large stick in hand. Her fear grew, spreading across the dream.

  Selene lit upon a cliff nearby and watched the scene unfold. Hagatha’s subconscious tried to change it, but Selene closed her eyes and pressed against the command. Hagatha’s fear was here, and she needed to find out what it was.

  There was a snarl.

  Selene opened her eyes. A timber wolf appeared, one of the largest ones she had ever seen. It stood eye to eye with Hagatha. It snarled again and bared its teeth. There was a crazed look in its yellow eyes and white foamy spittle formed around its mouth.

  Hagatha brandished the stick, her heart beating like a galloping horse. Selene’s own heart sped up to match it.

  The wolf took a step forward.

  “No, you don’t.” Hagatha swung the branch. “Not another step!”

  “Hagatha, don’t move!”

  Selene looked back and sp
otted a man racing toward the young Hagatha. His copper hair and beard stood out from his dark clothes, and a sheen of sweat coated his pale face.

  Hagatha turned her head halfway, keeping an eye on the approaching wolf. “Papa!”

  The wolf snarled and stepped closer.

  The man reached Hagatha. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. “Run, Hagatha!”

  She held the stick up. “But Papa—”

  “Now!”

  Hagatha dropped the stick and ran. The wolf ran too, right for the copper-haired man. He drew a dagger out just as the wolf leaped. The two went to the ground. The wolf latched onto the man’s neck as the man plunged the blade into the wolf’s chest. Fur and skin became coated in blood.

  Selene turned away, sickened by the sight and sounds.

  “Papa!” Hagatha screamed in the distance. “Papa!”

  When the cries and snarling stopped, Selene glanced back. The wolf lay on top of the man, and the man’s hand lay on the ground, the dagger dropped from his bloody fingers.

  Hagatha screamed again and ran toward the bodies. Neither moved. “No, no! Papa!” She dropped to her knees beside his head. “Papa, wake up!”

  Selene knew the man would never wake up.

  An older feminine voice joined young Hagatha’s voice. “Papa,” the voice murmured. “Papa . . .”

  “I see you found it.” Her mother landed on the boulder next to Selene. “Hagatha hates and fears wolves. When she was young, a sick and savage wolf roamed the mountains. It found her one day, but her father intervened, giving up his own life to save his daughter. Now that you know what her fear is, I want you to use it.”

  “Use it?”

  “Yes. Change the dreamscape. Use Hagatha’s fear of wolves against her.”

  Selene thought she was going to retch. After what she had seen, how could she use that against Hagatha?

  Her mother waited.

  There was no getting out of this. Selene closed her eyes, burying her heart deep inside of her. Don’t feel. Don’t feel.

  She focused on the wolf. With a powerful sweep of her wings, she changed the dreamscape. Hagatha stood alone on the path again.

  “Now the wolves,” her mother whispered.

  “Wolves?”

  “Yes. If one makes her afraid, then two will terrify her. But don’t bring them all at once. Build up her fear. With practice, you will learn how much a person can take, and how slowly or fast you should bring on the nightmare.”

  Selene nodded, her mouth too dry for a verbal answer. She felt like she was about to jump off a cliff. Don’t feel.

  With another flick of her wings, she brought back the wolf. It stood where the path broadened. It took a moment for young Hagatha to register the wolf. At the same time, Selene felt sleeping Hagatha’s heart begin to race.

  She brought in a second wolf, this one on the other side of the path. Young Hagatha looked forward, then backward. She moved toward the side of the path and pressed her back against the rocks.

  “Bring them closer,” her mother whispered. There was a breathless eagerness to her voice.

  Selene mentally urged the wolves forward, empowering them with Hagatha’s memories. They snarled and growled with every step, and spittle formed around their muzzles.

  “Have them lunge at her.”

  Selene hesitated. She could feel Hagatha’s deep fear now and watched young Hagatha cower into a hunched position. I can’t do this! She’s just a little gir—

  “Now, Selene!”

  Selene severed the feelings inside of her.

  With a flick of her wings, the wolves lunged at Hagatha, snapping at her, their spit flying from their jaws. Young Hagatha and sleeping Hagatha screamed at the same time. Hagatha’s aged heart felt like it would burst at any moment.

  “Feel that? Feel Hagatha’s heart?”

  Selene swallowed. “Yes.”

  “That is how you gauge how much fear the dreamer is experiencing. Push too far and you could kill her. Sometimes that’s the goal. But not tonight. I simply wanted you to find Hagatha’s fear and use it. Go ahead and stop.”

  Wait. Sometimes the goal is to kill? What did Mother mean?

  Selene swept her wings back and with the rush of wind, the dream cleared. But she could still feel Hagatha’s writhing body and hear her moans far off in the real world.

  Selene’s own emotions threatened to come back, but she held them at bay. If she let them loose, she would lose control in front of Mother.

  Her mother narrowed her beady black eyes. “Come, Selene. Now that you’ve experienced the dreamscape, it is time to explain more of what goes on. Follow me.”

  Her mother flew up into the air. Selene followed, ready to escape this nightmare of her own making.

  6

  With a small gasp, Selene settled back into her body and let go of Hagatha’s hand. Beads of sweat marred the old woman’s face and trembles swept across her body.

  “Hmm,” her mother said beside her, looking down at the old woman. “You might have pushed Hagatha too much.”

  Selene glanced back at the maidservant, her eyes wide in horror.

  “Not to worry, she’ll recover. She’s a tough woman. I practiced many times on Hagatha when my own mother was teaching me to control dreams.”

  Dinner threatened to come up, but Selene steeled herself against it. It was getting easier each time to turn off her emotions.

  “Follow me to the caverns.” Her mother stood and left without waiting for Selene.

  Selene glanced down at Hagatha one more time. She wanted to tell the old servant she was sorry, but it would only make everything harder. So she turned and left instead.

  Silently the two women made their way through the dark castle until they reached the less-inhabited part usually used only when there were guests. And there were rarely any guests at Rook Castle.

  Her mother stopped before a wall inside one of the guest rooms and pressed on the hidden indents. A low groan sounded in the walls before the panel swung inward. Her mother reached for the oil lamp set on a small table beside one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace and lit it. The two women entered the hidden hallway and shut the door behind them.

  The light from the lamp cast a warm glow on the cool, jagged stone corridor, and the smell of dust and stone filled the small area.

  “Now that you’ve experienced two dreamscapes, it will be easier to explain things to you,” her mother said, her voice echoing along the passageway. “The jobs we receive come in many different forms. Sometimes our patron simply wants secrets for blackmail. So we search for those within the dreamscape. Other times, our patron wants revenge, such as making the dreamer relive his or her guilty past. And once in a while we receive a contract where the patron desires the ultimate of our abilities: death. Those are the most lucrative contracts. A contract like that can set up our family and nation for almost a year.”

  Selene’s breath became lodged in her throat. “Death?”

  “Yes.”

  Selene reached a hand over to the wall to hold herself up as icy cold adrenaline rushed through her body. So she had heard her mother correctly in the dreamscape. “We kill people?”

  Her mother looked back, the lamplight dancing across her face. “It is our greatest ability.”

  “Our gift is to kill people?”

  “It is one of our abilities. Fear is one of the most powerful human emotions. Once caught within the emotion, it is difficult for a person to escape. Even the mightiest of men eventually succumb to fear. And ultimate fear leads to death.”

  The tunnel began to spin around Selene. “So that’s why we search out a person’s fear within the dream world. To manipulate it. To use it to . . . to . . .” She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes.

  “To kill the sleeper.” Her mother said the words with such casualness. “That is why you must learn to harden your heart, or you will find yourself unable to do what needs to be done.”

  Needs to be done? T
hey were talking about lives here! She knew her family used the dreamwalking gift to support their people, but when had her ancestors crossed the line and become killers?

  Did the ends justify the means?

  Selene wiped her mouth and straightened up. She did not want to show her mother the raging conflict going on inside. She could be cold. She could suppress her emotions and lock them away.

  She could harden her heart.

  But for how long?

  “How often do we receive such a contract?” Selene asked as she closed the gap between them, her voice even and controlled as she locked away the storm inside of her.

  Her mother narrowed her eyes as if evaluating Selene.

  Selene stared back.

  Satisfied, her mother turned back around and continued along the tunnel. “Not very often. They are the most dangerous, both to us and to our patron, should the assassination be found out. However, our method makes it appear as though the person died in their sleep. Very convenient.”

  Her toes curled within her boots, but she kept her frozen veneer in place. “So nobody suspects that we use our dreamwalking abilities to kill?” Her voice didn’t quaver or stumble over the word, but her heart gave a twinge.

  “Oh, there might be a couple of people who suspect the dream gift still exists, and even fewer people who would consider that the gift is used in such a way. Because it is believed that our lineage died out during the razing by the Dominia Empire, hardly anyone knows. And thus our secret is safe.”

  It made sense. No one knew Rabanna was one of the original Ravenwoods, and thus carried the gift of dreaming when she came back from captivity. Selene continued to probe. As horrified as she was, she needed answers: why, how, and who. “How do we receive our contracts?”

  “We work closely with House Friere. Grand Lord Ivulf has connections all over the great nations and even within the Dominia Empire itself. When he finds out there is a desire for what we do, his agents negotiate the contract. Then he sends word to me and I fulfill it. But soon that will be your job.”