The Broken Raven

by Joseph Elliott

  Granpa Halvor turns over a piece of bark.

  “Snow,” he says, lookin at the picture on it. His hand hovers over the other barks what are laid out on the rug.

  “Come on, Granpa,” I say. “We just had that one.”

  The barks are facedown and cut square so they all look the same. He should know where the other snow is; I turned it over two turns ago. He chooses the bark next to it and flips it over.

  “Mountain,” he ses, shakin his head. He puts both squares back where they were.

  “You gotta pay more attention, Granpa,” I say. I turn over the two barks with snow on, then the two mountains cuz I know where they are and all. The next one I turn over is grass, and I find that match too. I add them all to my pile, which is hek towerin now. Granpa Halvor’s only got two pairs, and even those ones I helped him with. It’s always like this when we play. He doesn’t mind, though — he loves seein me do it, like he’s impressed evry time. It’s easy for me; if I see somethin once, I’ll know it for always.

  “I’ve been thinkin about what you said,” I say as I flip over another couple of barks. “About havin choices and makin the right ones . . . What if I went north and joined Mal-Rakki’s army?”

  “Pah! Don’t even joke. You’d be runnin to your death.”

  “You’re the one who’s always tellin me how great he is.”

  “And evry word of it is true, but you’re too young to be joinin no rebel army. Until Mal-Rakki returns, all we can do is wait.”

  “But why hasn’t he returned yet? How long we gotta wait?”

  Granpa Halvor’s convinced that Mal-Rakki — the White Fox — is still alive, but he’s probly the only person in the whole country who’s sure. Mal-Rakki was Konge Grímr’s brother, but he disagreed with how the king was rulin, and — after Konge Grímr tried to kill him — he was forced into hidin. A few years back, Konge Grímr claimed he found him and had him killed, but Granpa ses he was only lyin to trick us all. I used to think that too — cuz no one ever saw no body — but if Mal-Rakki’s still alive, where the skit is he? Now that Konge Grímr’s gone, Mal-Rakki should’ve come out from wherever it is he’s been hidin, with all the other rebels. No one’s seen no peep of him, though.

  “He’s comin,” Granpa Halvor ses. “Soon. And then we’ll all be set free.”

  “What do you mean ‘free’? We’re not slaves.”

  Granpa scoffs, loud as a pigburp. “We may not be chained up or kept in prisons, but believe me, we’re slaves all the same, and no mistakin. Workin hard day and night, then handin half or more of everythin we worked for over to the king. The fact that he’s dead now’s not gunna change nothin. What do you think’s gunna happen next? Same thing I seen time and time again all my life: someone new’ll take his place, take his power, and everythin’ll stay exactly how it was. That’s why we need Mal-Rakki, more than ever. If he was king, evrythin’d be diffrunt. He believes in a better life for all of us, not just for those in charge. Evryone deserves the chance to live their greatest possible life; that’s what Mal-Rakki ses, and he’s gunna make sure that happens. He’s gunna come back and free us, and then evrythin’ll be better. May the will of Øden assure it.”

  “Isn’t it Øden’s will for us to serve our king?” I ask it on purpose to make Granpa skapped.

  “Tush! Course it isn’t. I taught you better than that. You know as well as I do that’s just the excuse they give to get evrythin they want. The king’s just a man, same as you and me. Well, you’re a girl, but you get my meanin. Them’s in power’s always abusin Øden’s name, tellin us what we gotta do because it’s the will of Øden. Well, looks like Øden finally had enough of their lies. Sent that curse of shadows to wipe them clean out, didn’t he? Good riddance to them. They made a mockery of his name, of his values, of evrythin he holds true. . . .”

  Talkin about the king always gets Granpa fiery. He hates all the things what Konge Grímr used to do, pretendin it was for the sake of Øden: fightin bloodsplash wars, enslavin rottens from overseas, takin all our foods and our pennies . . . I gotta change the subject or he’ll never stop yappin.

  “It’s your turn,” I say.

  He doesn’t flip over no barks. He’s still lookin at me. “Evryone deserves the chance to live their greatest possible life,” he ses. “That includes you, Sigrid. Especially you, and don’t you forget it.”

  The door opens with a bang. I jump to my feet. It’s Mamma. She crashes in and somethin breaks. Sure as the moon she’s been drinkin today. I take a step back, but she grabs my arm before I’m outta reach. Swear Øden she’s got the strength of a growler bear when she’s been neckin.

  “Come on, girl. Time to go.”

  “Go where?” I’m tryin to pull my arm away even though I know there’s no use.

  “Wait, we’re playin here,” ses Granpa Halvor. He’s standin up now too.

  “We haven’t got time for no games,” ses Mamma, and she kicks the barks on the rug to prove it. “I got someone hek important for you to meet.”

  “Who we meetin? Who’s important?” I ask.

  “You’ll see,” she ses. She has this look on her face that’s all pleased with herself and isn’t just the drink talkin.

  “Let go of her arm,” Granpa Halvor ses. “You’ll hurt her.”

  “You tellin me how to take care of my own daughter now?” my mother ses to him. She looks at him with stormfire eyes.

  Granpa doesn’t say nothin. I don’t say nothin neither.

  “Come on, then,” my mother ses, and she takes me outta Granpa Halvor’s shack.

  Granpa tries to follow us, but he can’t keep up cuz of the twist in his knee.

  “I’ll be fine, Granpa,” I shout over my shoulder. “I’ll come see you when we get back.”

  “I love you, Sigrid,” he replies. His voice cracks a little when he ses it.

  Mamma tuts and drags me down the hills. We walk for a hek long time. She doesn’t let go of me for a blink, like she thinks I’m gunna try and run away or somethin. I’m not gunna run away; I haven’t got nowhere to run to. Few times I stumble cuz she’s pullin so fast.

  “Keep up,” she ses, and then she pulls even more and goes even faster. It’s hurtin, but I’m used to that.

  Once we’re faraways from Granpa Halvor’s shack, I start to see more people goin the same way we’re headin. There’s only one place I know in this direction. Sterkr Fjall. The hollow mountain, where the king used to live. It’s small in the distance but gettin closer. All kinds of bad mess happened there. Granpa Halvor told me. Evryone knows. People came from over the sea and brought death shadows with them. The shadows killed the whole lot of them in the mountain: The king, dead. His guards, dead. Evryone, dead.

  So why we headin there?

  There’s been rumors of someone new already stepped into Konge Grímr’s dead boots, but I don’t know nothin about that. Like Granpa Halvor ses, it’s not likely to be anyone good. Unless Mal-Rakki has come back, and that’s who we’re goin to meet? My heart skips a beat thinkin how hek ríkka that would be.

  My mother stubs her toe on some skittin tree stump and swears loud to the high sky. She yanks my arm like it was my fault she did it.

  “Maybe if we weren’t goin so quick,” I say.

  “You shush up your mouth if you know what’s good,” she ses back.

  I know what’s good; I shush up my mouth.

  When we arrive at the mountain there’s hek loads of people there. Mostly rotten folk like me and my mother — those with no pennies and no hopes. All of the children have their first ink, which means they’re at least fourteen. I’m bettin they had theirs done proper, not like mine. I raise my hand to my face, the side with the ink. It’s been a couple of weeks since it was done, so it’s not as burnin like before. Whatever’s happenin here, it’s only for people who have their first ink. Must be the real reason why my mother paid all our money to that cheatin grotthief: so she could sneak me in here. But sneak me into what? What the skit’s happenin her
e?

  We pass by the entrance of Sterkr Fjall. Granpa Halvor ses the mountain’s empty now. Cursed by Øden. No one’s been in since after the shadows killed evryone. It’s just bats what live there now. We walk all the way around the mountain to another one what’s behind it. The next mountain’s got a tunnel you can go in too, and that’s where all the rottens are leadin.

  Inside it’s hek dark, sept for blue fires here and there what light it up. I haven’t never been inside a mountain before. It’s hek skittin and smells harsk as hell. There’s dirt all over, in big piles like whoever was diggin hasn’t finished it yet. We walk over and around the dirt and then farther in, until the tunnel opens into a big cave room. In the middle of the cave is a circle of blue fire. People in charge are takin all the kidlins and linin them up against the wall on the other side. I look at my mother. She smiles at me, though it’s sorta drunken.

  A man grips my arm and ses to my mother, “I’ll take her from here.” My mother lets me go and nods at me strange. Now the man’s pullin me. I’m sick of evryone always pullin me. He leads me over to the wall with the others and tells me to stand between a boy with scraggin hair and a girl with a dirty face. They’re both taller than I am, and they don’t neither of them look too happy. The boy’s first ink is a ship sailin on his cheekbone, which is for courage. The girl has a blade above her eyebrow, for cunnin. The boy is starin at my face, at my wreckmess raven with its broken neck.

  “What you lookin at?” I say.

  He turns away. More people come in. There’s maybe thirty of us kidlins now, all against the wall around me. The adults wait on the other side. They’re millin and itchin like they’re nervous or somethin. Makes me get the jitters too.

  “What’s happenin?” I say to the girl next to me, the one with the blade ink. “Why we here?”

  She flicks her eyes at me but doesn’t answer. She looks scared. Evryone goes quiet then cuz there’s new people comin in from deeper in the mountain. The tallest is an ugly man with a scar from his mouth to his ear. He stops in fronta the first boy and squeezes his chin in one of his thick skittin hams. Then he shoves the boy’s face away and moves down the line, and he’s proddin and pokin like he doesn’t give two hells about nothin.

  When he reaches me, he stops. He’s lookin at me all close like. He’s peerin at my new ink and the harsk dead raven on my face. I wonder if he knows it wasn’t no proper tatovmaðr what did it. I look straight back at him. If he’s starin at me, there isn’t no reason not to stare at him too. His scar is hek ugly. It goes across his face right through all his ink. One of his inks is a goat, and the scar cuts across its poor scraggin neck, makin it look sliced dead, same as my raven. Maybe that’s what he’s thinkin: our poor twin animals, both with their necks snapped, both stuck bein dead forever.

  “She’s a good girl. Well behaved, does what she’s told.” It’s my mother sayin that, shoutin it from the other side of the cave. What’s she shoutin that for? Some of the others mutter and one woman spits. The man with the scar tuts his teeth and moves on to the next kidlin in line — the girl with the dirty face and the blade ink. He doesn’t look at her much. He grabs her arm and ses, “You’ll do,” and then he’s pullin her away. She starts shoutin and tryin to grab her arm loose, but he’s a giant of a man so she’s foolin if she thinks she can break free.

  “Stop making it so difficult,” he ses, and with the back of his other arm he smacks her thuk! right across the back of her head. Then he drags her some more and she’s sobbin and her legs are scramblin to keep up.

  “Let her go,” I say, and I run at him and kick his leg as hard as I can. I don’t know why I did that. It was a hek stupid thing to do. The man shouts out and lets go of the girl.

  “You little bikja,” he ses to me. He swings his arm at my face, but I duck out the way. Someone else grabs me from behind, and then more people are talkin and shoutin and it all goes batcrazy.

  “Silence!”

  The voice is loud and deep, but I can’t see who said it.

  “I ask you to do one simple job, and what do I get? This anarchy.”

  “Everything is under control, Your Supremacy.”

  What? Your Supremacy means the king, but the king is — Oh. Wait a cheatin moment. There is a man in the shadows. I can’t see him too proper but now I’m lookin, I can just about make out the antlers what grow out of the crown on his head.

  Konge Grímr.

  I thought he was dead. Evryone said he was dead.

  “What happened?” he ses.

  I don’t know who he’s talkin to. He sure as muck isn’t talkin to me, but there’s no one else replyin so I say, “This oafogre with the scar was hurtin on this girl here when he shouldn’t of been, so I kicked him to make him stop.”

  Konge Grímr starts laughin. It’s a deep laugh what sounds like the earth is breakin. “So you were bested by a little girl, were you, Bolverk?” he ses. He laughs more and other people start laughin too.

  The giant man with the scar — Bolverk — is next to me, starin daggers. His nose is flarin like a wild horse and the veins in his neck are pumpin solid.

  “The situation was under control,” he ses.

  Konge Grímr stops laughing. “Bring her to me,” he ses. “I think we’ve found the one.”

  “You can’t seriously be considering . . . ?” ses Bolverk. “You don’t want this one, Your Supremacy. I can already tell she’s nothing but trouble. And her fyrst ink has been botched by some cheap fraud.”

  “Do not dare to tell me what I want,” ses Konge Grímr. His voice echoes around us.

  There’s a silence, and then, “She’s mine,” ses my mother, and she’s wavin her arm manic-like. She looks proud. My mother hasn’t never looked proud of me before. Tears start comin to my eyes. I made her happy, even if I don’t know why. She stumbles a bit from all the drink she necked earlier. “Where’s my money?”

  Wait. What money? What’s she sayin money for?

  “You’ll get paid,” Konge Grímr ses.

  I’m hek confused what’s goin on now. This whole mornin’s been confusin as hell and it sure isn’t gettin no clearer.

  “Come toward me, child,” ses the king.

  Whoever it is what’s holdin me lets go. I shake out my shoulders. Bolverk makes as if he’s gunna push me, but I don’t need him shovin. I go toward Konge Grímr on myself. “What you want me for?” I ask him.

  He steps out of the shadows. A long fur hangs on his shoulders. In one hand he has a stick to help him balance, but mostly I’m just lookin at his eyes. Only, not his eyes, cuz he hasn’t got none no more. Where they used to be is all dark and twisted with knots of skin. It’s a hek mess of a face, like somethin ripped it all apart. Even though he can’t see no more, he looks straight in my direction.

  “You, my child,” he ses, “are going to be my new eyes.”

  It is the nighttime and it’s dark. I am lying on my bed and I should be asleep but I’m not. I have a plan. I am the hero so I have to do it. The first part of the plan is that I need to wait. Everybody needs to be asleep for me to do the plan. I can hear from all the snoring that lots of people are asleep already but I wait some more just for being sure.

  I don’t like it in this bothan. It is not like the Hawk bothan in our enclave. There are people from all the different duties in it and even children. Also the bed is not comfortable. I want to go back to our enclave and live there again. The Raasay people need to leave and we need to make them leave. Maistreas Eilionoir says we can only do that if the Clann-na-Bruthaich people help us. Tomorrow is the vote to see if they will and I hope that they will.

  It is enough of the middle of the night now. I get out of my bed. I am already wearing my clothes and my boots which is very clever and no one knew. I walk to the door of the bothan and I am quiet. No one sees me go because they are all asleep. It is cold outside. I should have put my cloak on too. That was not the clever part. I will be quick so the blood does not freeze in my veins.

  I
know where Catriona’s bothan is because I remembered. She is like an elder so she has a bothan that is only for her. It is next to the meeting bothan. I put my head down and I do the quickest running I can. I do not want the night Hawks to see me. I know where the night Hawks look and those are the places I don’t go. All of the plan is clever because I thought about it a lot.

  I stop outside Catriona’s bothan. There is one window. I look in but it is too dark to see if she is inside. I think she is. It is the middle of the night so where else would she be? I open her door and no one stops me. It is very easy. I go inside.

  I can see her now. She is asleep like I thought. Her bothan is small. It is only a bed and a chair and a chest. I mustn’t wake her. That is the most important thing. She will hurt me if I do because I’m not supposed to be here. She is good at fighting. The best one. That is why Kenrick made her a leader person when we came back from Norveg even though she is younger. One of the other Hawks told me that. She does not look scary now. Her hair is a mess and not nice. It is the same color as the straw that is coming out of her pillow. Her face is scrunchy like she is thinking bad things.

  I cannot see the necklace. It is dark in this bothan so it’s hard to see. The necklace is not on the chair and it’s not on the chest. Maybe it’s inside the chest. Or maybe she is wearing it still. Yes, that is what I think. That makes the plan harder but I can do it.

  I walk to her bed. Her blanket is over her neck so I have to move it to see if the necklace is there. I shut my mouth because my breathing is too loud. I reach down and am going to move the blanket when all of her body moves. I step back and think I will scream but I don’t. She is still asleep. I reach out for the blanket again and this time I move it. Only a little bit. Enough so I can see her neck and what is on it.