Mark of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  Damien glanced at one of the windows past the tall columns that surrounded the circular room as the others stood and talked quietly amongst themselves. It was only midday, which meant he still had half a day to fill, half a day to think about the conclusion to the assembly, half a day to finish up and pack. Then tomorrow, once the treaty was signed, he would head home.

  The thought of Nor Esen and Northwind Castle stirred a longing inside his heart. He stood and headed for the double doors that led outside the meeting hall. He would spend the afternoon preparing for his journey home. But ten minutes later, when he stepped into his room, he walked over to the chair beside the unlit fireplace, sat down, and held his head inside his hands. His heart felt even heavier than it had inside the meeting hall. And with each passing minute, the weight increased.

  “I failed,” he whispered. “I failed, Father. I failed you. And I failed the coalition.”

  There would be no unity. Each heartbeat pounded that truth into his mind. There would be no help from those three houses if the empire chose to invade House Vivek’s borders. Only House Luceras and House Merek were committed to helping if war broke out. And even Lord Leo seemed to have cooled in his enthusiasm to assist.

  Damien ran his hands along his face. The problem was that House Merek was way down south and the farthest house away from the border, and Damien’s own house had limited land military, since most of his forces were naval trained. If the empire moved on House Vivek, there would be no time to mobilize help, even from House Luceras.

  It would be House Ravenwood all over again. Another house razed to oblivion by the empire.

  He lifted his head up and stared at the empty fireplace grate. “Why don’t they see? We need to help each other. None of us can protect ourselves on our own. We were never given these gifts just for our own benefit. I don’t want to make the same mistake my ancestors made. But I’m not sure what I can do. I can’t raise the water around all of the nations.” Even now, he could feel the continual drain of the water-wall still in place where he had left it. He held his hands out, palm up. “I’m not strong enough. I don’t know if any Maris lord ever was.”

  A deep ache settled inside his chest. Before he could think on it, Damien crawled from his chair and settled on his knees before the fireplace, his head bowed. “Light, please help us.” That was all he could muster. The feelings inside of him were too deep and raw for words. He curled in on himself and held his hands up in supplication. Over and over he pleaded to the Light to save them. To save not just House Vivek or the other border nations, but to save all of them. To save them from the empire.

  To save them from themselves.

  The light from the nearby window moved along the stone floor, but Damien never moved. He knelt there, even when his legs began to ache and his knees felt like a fire had been lit inside of them. It wasn’t until he felt a presence behind him that he looked up and over his shoulder.

  Taegis stood in the doorway. “Karl hadn’t seen you for hours, so I decided to check on you. I take it things did not go well today.”

  Damien slowly stood to his feet. “No.” The deep ache continued to throb inside of his chest. “There was no agreement. There will be no help. Whether they believe the empire is a threat or not, half of the Great Houses will do nothing if the empire chooses to cross the wall.”

  Taegis scowled and crossed his arms. “How foolish,” he muttered and looked away.

  “Have the Great Houses ever really been united?” It was a question Damien had always wished he could ask his father.

  “I don’t know.” Taegis continued to scowl. “Perhaps a long time ago, when the nations first formed, when all of the houses possessed their gifts.”

  Damien’s throat tightened. “Do you think I was a fool to hope?”

  Taegis dropped his arms and looked at him. “No. And neither was your father. This conflict with the empire should have compelled the houses to look beyond their borders, but apparently history runs too deep. It might take a war to finally wake them up.”

  “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Or at least that we would be unified if it does happen.”

  “And what do you plan on doing when it does?”

  “I will assist House Vivek as much as I can. And hopefully House Luceras will come through with their promise. They plan on signing the treaty tomorrow, along with House Merek.”

  “But not House Rafel?”

  Damien shook his head. “No. Lord Haruk decided to follow Ravenwood and Friere.”

  Taegis frowned. “If war does break out, we will need skilled healers. And the healers from Rafel are the best, even those from the lesser houses without the gift. Why did Lord Haruk agree with House Ravenwood and House Friere?”

  Damien shrugged. “I don’t know.” But he had an idea. He was sure there was something going on. Perhaps Lord Haruk was being manipulated, or the elder lord was holding out on an alliance for his daughter.

  “Well, at least you were able to bring four of the seven houses together. That’s something.”

  But not enough. Not against the Dominia Empire. Last time it took six houses to push the empire back and build fortifications against another invasion. Four was not going to be enough. It would only delay the inevitable.

  Damien ran a hand across his face. He had planned on packing, but he was exhausted. “I think I’m going to turn in early tonight after dinner.”

  “Good idea. Tomorrow you sign the treaty, then we can start back home.”

  Home. Just the thought made everything inside Damien relax. A window a few feet away overlooked the Magyr Mountains. High peaks and rock. That’s all there was around here. It was beautiful, in a rugged, wild sort of way. But his heart longed for the water, for the seacoast and the call of the gulls, for the sound of crashing waves, and the scent of salt in the air.

  He longed for home.

  He let out his breath. “That’ll be good.”

  Taegis bowed. “Good night, Lord Damien. I will be on guard if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Taegis, for everything.”

  “I only wish I could do more.” Taegis turned and quietly left the room.

  Damien stood for a moment and stared at the door. Dinner would be served soon. But he wasn’t ready, not yet. Instead, he headed back to the spot where he had been kneeling before Taegis entered the room and sunk down to his knees. Bowing his head, he started praying again.

  33

  Selene skipped dinner that night, choosing instead to remain in her bedchambers and prepare for the evening. She stood in the middle of her room, one arm flung across her middle and gripping her other arm as she watched the sun sink beyond the Magyr Mountains.

  Her secret excursion to the Dark Lady’s sanctuary last night had done nothing for her. Instead, it left her feeling numb and lifeless. As if she were a husk, moving, doing, but feeling nothing.

  But perhaps that was a good thing. If she couldn’t feel her heart, then carrying out her mission would be that much easier. Maybe she had finally learned how to lock it away. Her black tunic, leggings, boots, and cloak were laid out behind her across her bed, along with her facial scarf, ready to be adorned and used in this evening’s covert mission.

  Minutes ticked by. She knew she should start preparing. But part of her was afraid to turn and begin dressing, fearing that by moving, her heart would emerge again.

  So she stood there and watched the crimson light disappear beyond the craggy peaks until the last ray disappeared into the inky blackness. Then she stood in the darkness and closed her eyes. She would enter Lord Damien’s dreams and head directly to the memory of that stormy day at sea. She would reenact that memory and build up the storm. She would take away his ship, leaving him alone in the midst of the crashing waves with the carnage and debris from the ships he had destroyed, building up his fear until she felt his heart thrashing inside of him.

  Then she would let him drown.

  Selene slowly opened her eyes and swallowed the l
ump inside her throat. It was a perfect plan. The fear was there—the fear of drowning and the fear of the devastation his power could cause. She would simply allow the memory to spread across his dreamscape and his body would take over.

  And if that wasn’t enough, there was also the death of his family. . . .

  At the edge of her being, she could feel a storm brewing over what she was about to do, but she mentally shut the door on those feelings and locked them away. Then she took a slow, deep breath and sunk back into the numbing coldness of her soul.

  She glanced at the window. Mother would soon be heading to the guest rooms given to Lord Rune Vivek and his sister Runa and accomplishing her own mission. She turned and headed for her bed. It was time she left as well.

  Selene quickly pulled on the black clothing. With each garment, she felt herself slipping into another person . . . into the dreamkiller. She clasped her cloak around her neck, wrapped the scarf around her face until all that remained were her eyes, then pulled the hood up and over her head, taking care to tuck her long braid inside the head covering.

  Her boots were silent as she made her way across the room to where her dual blades lay on the short table against the wall, next to the fireplace. She belted the double scabbard around her waist, then slipped the blades inside their sheaths. She had studied Lord Damien’s guards enough to feel confident about entering Damien’s room undetected, but she wanted to be prepared, just in case.

  She took a deep breath and faced the door. There. She was ready.

  Selene focused on her next step: making her way across Rook Castle to Lord Damien’s bedchamber. She never let her mind slip, never allowed a lingering thought of Damien. Instead, she concentrated on the hallway as she slipped out of her room, on where the shadows were, and where any voices were coming from.

  The corridors were empty as she entered the storage room. She bypassed the crates stacked against the wall, stopped in front of the back wall, and pushed down on the small lever near the corner. The wall slid to the side, opening the way to a narrow tunnel.

  Selene stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She made her way in the darkness, following the same path she had followed before to the opening beneath Lord Damien’s balcony. The air chilled her body. The smell of dust turned to pine as she reached the opening ahead.

  Selene stopped outside and stood on the stone lip that jutted out from the cave entrance. Eight feet above stood the rounded balcony that connected to Lord Damien’s bedchamber. She quietly listened but heard neither voices nor movement. Satisfied, she scurried up the rocky right side of the mountain where it connected to the castle, then twisted to her left when she reached the balcony, grabbed onto the railing, and gracefully swung onto the floor. She sidled up to the outside wall, just beside the doorway, and waited.

  No sound.

  She glanced around and found the glass inlaid doors shut. Made sense. It was cold this evening.

  After making sure there was no light inside, she took a second look through the glass. Though it was dark, she could not detect any guards.

  Selene straightened, her back flush with the stone wall. Ahead, stars were starting to come out, filling the night sky with their tiny but brilliant light. A timber wolf howled, its voice echoing through the narrow gorges. She took a deep breath, then turned and grabbed the door handle.

  The metal lever sank down and the door opened without a sound. Selene crept inside and gently shut the door behind her. Another quick glance confirmed that there was no one in the room, save for the figure lying on top of the large four-poster bed.

  If the guards followed their usual routine, then the older guard would be on duty tonight. She brushed the hilt of her right sword as assurance, just in case she was proven wrong.

  Quietly, she made her way across the room to the space between the bed and the wall that was out of view of the other doors. As she moved along the bed, a tangle of knots began to form inside her middle, and her mouth grew dry. Selene licked her lips as her heart beat faster. This was it. Time to fulfill her destiny and become the next Lady Ravenwood.

  Damien lay on his side, face toward her, arms spread out toward the edge of the bed, knees bent. The covers lay in a heap at his feet, as if he had kicked them off and left them there. He’d stripped down to a simple tunic and trousers, the top of his tunic undone, exposing his chest and neck.

  The moonlight from the balcony highlighted his face, revealing sharp, chiseled features and the beginnings of a beard. His dark hair had grown longer during his stay here, covering the tips of his ears and reaching down to his eyebrows.

  His eyes were tightly closed, almost as if his sleep were painful to him. Selene narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. What was he dreaming about right now? And could that work in her favor?

  She was already beginning to think like her mother. And yet, wasn’t that the point? The moment she killed Lord Maris she would take her place as a lady of Ravenwood and a dreamkiller. She knelt down beside the bed where his fingers trailed off the mattress, a feeling of shame and mortification bubbling up inside of her.

  A vicious spell of nausea hit her, sending bile up her throat. Selene hunched over, willing her body to calm down as she stared down at the stone floor. I don’t have time for this, she thought, clenching her hands.

  Moments later, the sickness subsided, and she slowly straightened. There was movement in one of the rooms beyond. Selene froze, listening and watching. No one emerged.

  She took a deep breath. The faster she carried out her mission, the quicker she could leave and put this all behind her.

  She smiled sadly to herself as she reached for Damien and prepared to enter his dreamscape. She would never be able to put this behind her. This encounter would forever be etched on her soul, a dark blot she would never be able to wash away.

  But . . . if this saved her people, if this saved her sisters from becoming dreamkillers, if doing this allowed her to control her house someday, then maybe it was worth it.

  Until she found another way.

  With that, Selene clamped her fingers down around Damien’s wrist.

  34

  Like the other times before, Selene was pulled into the dreamscape as if Damien himself had grabbed ahold of her hand and hauled her into his mind. She’d never told her mother about that experience, so she still wasn’t sure if this was normal or not. Her gut feeling was that this wasn’t normal, that there was some kind of connection between herself and Damien that went beyond the usual emotional attachment formed during a dreamwalk. And if so, what would happen to her the moment she killed him?

  Would it affect her too?

  Those thoughts swirled inside her mind as her body transformed and she caught the wind inside the dreamscape with her newly formed wings. She hovered for a moment, adjusting to the form of a raven, and glanced around to get her bearings.

  White sand stretched across the dreamscape, bordered by deep grey waves on one side, and rolling hills of grass and pine trees on the other. The sky around her was bright blue and full of sunlight. The air was crisp, cool, and smelled of salt and water.

  Her heart soared at the beauty and peace of the dreamscape, only to crash moments later. She knew this place. Even as her mind registered that thought, her eyes caught sight of the glowing orb nestled between two sand dunes.

  Damien’s soulsphere.

  At once, everything inside of her was drawn to the brilliant sphere, a longing so deep that it felt like it was physically pulling her. Her beak parted, and her body flashed with a sudden burst of heat. She angled her wings toward the sphere and began to descend toward the beach. There were no thoughts in her mind except one thing: Damien’s brilliant soul.

  Just as Selene swooped in toward the sphere, her senses came back and she took a hard right, passing the sphere and coming up on the other side only a couple of feet away.

  The heat from moments before turned to a chill as she hovered above the sand. From here, she could see the swirls of l
ight within the orb, almost like living strands moving and dancing.

  She closed her eyes. She had almost touched his soul.

  Another chill raced through her body, causing her to shudder. Selene opened her eyes and flapped her wings, lifting high into the sky. Once she was at least a hundred feet away, she looked back. The orb glistened amongst the white sand, and the desire for it enveloped her heart. But she held back. Instead, she turned around and flew as hard as she could in the other direction.

  With each pump of her wings, she forced her emotions into the deepest part of her, ready to lock them away. At the same time, she searched for a way to escape this particular dreamscape and begin her exploration of Damien’s memories of that stormy day.

  On and on she flew, first up the coast, then along the ocean as far from the beach as she could, then down the other side of the coast. But no matter where she went, it seemed to bring her back to Damien’s soulsphere.

  After encountering it a third time, she took off for the hills of pine. Soft wisps of fog were forming between the tree trunks and rising toward the sky like steam off wet clothing on a hot day.

  She flew until there was only fog and pine trees below her and kept on going. A moment later, the beach showed up in front of her as well as the orb of light, shining even more brilliantly than before.

  Shaken, Selene landed on the branch of one of the pine trees that bordered the beach. Her heart dashed against her rib cage as she looked to her right, then her left. Her breath came in ragged rasps through her beak, and for a moment she felt light-headed.

  She couldn’t escape this dreamscape. It was almost as if something—or someone—wanted her here.

  She blinked her eyes and steadied her breathing. She needed to think and not panic.