The Broken Raven

by Joseph Elliott

  The necklace is there.

  It’s the first time I have seen it close because when the Nice Queen Nathara was wearing it I didn’t see it close. The stone is big and black and shiny. I don’t know how all of the shadow things fit inside. It is not big enough for them. I need to get the necklace and throw it in the sea so it will be gone forever. That is what Maistreas Eilionoir said we should do with it when we were in Norveg and she is right. If it is in the bottom of the sea the shadow things cannot get out and hurt anyone or me. They are very bad things. I don’t know why Catriona took it. It is not hers so she should not have done that. It is stealing and it is wrong. Also it is dangerous because what if the shadow things come out again? They tried to get me once and it was bad very bad. After I throw it in the sea Maistreas Eilionoir will say that I am the hero again and so will everyone else because I did protecting my clan and am clever.

  There is a twist part on the chain that is how you get it off. I move that part away from Catriona’s neck and try to click it so the chain comes open. It is hard to do with my fingers. There is wet in my eyes that is sweat. I wipe it away with my hand but some more comes. The part on the chain won’t come apart and I can’t do it. Catriona moves again in the bed and I think she is going to wake up soon. I have to be so so quick. I cannot do the small twist part on the chain so I have to do a different way. Maybe if I pull really hard and it breaks. Then I will have it. That is the new plan.

  I pick up the necklace stone and hold it in my hand. It is warm a bit. My hand is warm too with the sweating. I am strong and I can do it.

  I pull as hard as I can.

  Catriona’s neck lifts off the pillow and her eyes open. The chain does not break. I pull again. It’s still not broken. Catriona is awake and she is looking at me. She is all confused on her face and then she is angry. She grabs the necklace with her hand to stop me taking it. I pull once more my biggest yet and this time the chain breaks. It goes through Catriona’s hand and I fall backward onto the floor on my bottom. It hurts a bit but I have got the necklace in my hand and now I need to get out.

  I go for the door but Catriona is there already and she is standing in front of it so I can’t get out. I step back so she doesn’t reach me. There is the window but it is too small to go out through there. I am trapped.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” says Catriona. Her eyes are big and her mouth is a tight one. “Give it back.”

  “No!” I say.

  “You’re going to be in so much trouble for this. I’ll have you whipped to within an inch of your life.”

  “It’s not y-y-yours,” I say.

  “Give it back or I will take it back.”

  She is going to hurt me. She wants to hurt me. I step onto the bed to be farther away from her.

  “Fine, then we do it the hard way,” she says.

  She comes toward me slow slow and then very very fast. I fall onto the bed. I am screaming and she’s on top of me. I try to kick her with my legs so she goes away. I’m holding the necklace with both my hands so I can’t use them for helping me. Catriona is digging into my fingers to get them apart. I try to bite on her knuckles. She pushes hard at my head. It goes backward and hits against the wall and hurts a very lot. She has a hold on the chain now. I still have the stone part and I fall down off the bed to get away but she keeps pulling the chain harder and is tugging it.

  Something breaks on the necklace and I don’t know what but when it happens my hand flies quick in the air and I let go of the black stone. It hits the wall and falls on the floor.

  I don’t move and neither does Catriona. We are both looking at the black stone. It is making a hiss sound.

  “What have you done?” says Catriona.

  Something black is running out of the stone like water. It goes up the walls and all around. The sound gets louder and more horrible which is when I know it.

  I have done a very bad thing. The necklace is open and the shadow things are coming out.

  The screaming wakes me up. Someone’s in pain. It’s a distant cry, from the other side of the enclave, accompanied by more distressed shouts and muffled clamor. Other people are already getting out of their beds and hurrying toward the door. I leap up and join them, slipping on my boots and throwing a cloak around me as I do so. It’s still dark outside, the sky so sharp it might shatter.

  The yells intensify, hiding a different noise that I can’t quite place. My mind is dragged back to when the deamhain stormed our enclave, to when I stood looking over the wall, watching it all happen, unable to move or do anything about it. I shake my head as my heart starts to race. No, no, no, no, no.

  “We’re under attack. Seize your weapons!” someone shouts.

  There is an outbreak of movement and chaos.

  How is this happening? We’re supposed to be safe here. Is it the deamhain? It can’t be. Or the traitors from Raasay? I can’t go through this again. It’s supposed to be over.

  I’m breathing too fast, but it’s out of my control. The ends of my fingers are so numb they hurt. I slump to the floor and pull my legs into my chest. Not again. Not now. I scrunch my eyes closed. Blood rushes to my head, making my eyes pound against my eyelids.

  “Jaime!”

  Aileen pounces on me with worried hands. She’s shaking me, trying to lift my head. “Jaime, are you hurt?” I don’t open my eyes. My breathing is getting worse.

  That’s when I hear it. It’s so clear, it’s hard to believe I didn’t recognize it before. I stop breathing altogether. Beneath all the other commotion is the unmistakable, hideous whispering that can only mean one thing.

  Sgàilean.

  How can they be here? And why are they attacking? Our blood is supposed to protect us. It’s clear from the cries that for some reason it no longer does.

  The realization sucks away my panic and replaces it with pure fear. I’d always been taught that Clann-a-Tuath doesn’t feel fear, but I learned in Scotia that that wasn’t true. Fear is a warning, forcing us to act. I stand up, shaking off Aileen’s hands.

  “Fire.” My throat is still tight, my legs shaky. “We need fire.”

  “Fire? Why?”

  “It’s the shadows. Sgàilean. They’re afraid of light, especially fire.”

  I run back to the bothan, Aileen following close behind. There are two lanterns hanging in the doorway. I unhook them both, hand one to Aileen, and hold the second close to my chest. “Don’t let go of it,” I say to her.

  “Okay.” Aileen’s eyes are wide and fierce; the reflection of the lantern’s flame shakes within them. “We need to warn everyone else. I’ll head west; you tell the people here. I’ll circle around and meet you at the loch.”

  The loch. Yes. “Sgàilean also hate water — they can’t move through it or over it. Tell everyone to go to the loch; they’ll be safe as long as they’re standing in the water.”

  Aileen nods and bolts. It’s only after she’s gone that I realize I don’t know how to get to the loch from here. I’ll worry about that later. I go the opposite way from her, shouting at everyone I pass to find lanterns and head for the water, but people aren’t listening to me; they’re too caught up in their own hysteria. The whispers are drawing nearer. My heart is rampaging. Every shadow is a potential threat. I should be trying harder to warn everyone, but the darkness is too much.

  I run. I don’t know where, I’m just running, anywhere, away.

  I raise the lantern above my head so that its light fully covers me. It bounces around with every stride. The wind slips in, ambushing the flame and almost putting it out. I lower the lantern for as long as I dare, holding it close to my body until the flame regains its strength; it’s all that’s keeping me alive.

  I thought I was heading in the direction of the loch, but nothing looks familiar. People are still shouting throughout the enclave, but there’s nobody nearby. I’m lost.

  Something snags my ankle, causing me to trip. The lantern falls out of my hands. Don’t go out, don�
�t go out. I scramble to retrieve it. The light is dim, but it’s still there. I keep running, aware now that there are sgàilean all around me, keeping pace, slinking through the grass just outside the lantern’s glow. Their whispering is even wilder than I remember, like a hungry tide devouring sand.

  I’m so distracted that I almost run straight into a tree. It’s the meeting tree which Aileen and I were in yesterday evening. It’s nowhere near the loch, so I’ve come in completely the wrong direction. Can sgàilean climb trees? Of course they can: they’re able to slide across any solid surface. All the same, I start to climb. A few steps up, my foot slips, and I’m back at the bottom. The whispers circle me, the sound unbearable. I scream and shout for help, but I know no one’s coming.

  The glow from the lantern is getting smaller. It’s running out of oil. It’s no longer bright enough to cover the whole of my body. I press my back into the trunk of the tree and move the lamp in erratic circles in front of me. The bark digs into my shoulder blades. The smell of burnt metal drifts through the air. The sgàilean are poised on all sides, waiting for the flame to burn itself out. Every now and then, one of them makes a snatch for one of my limbs, deterred at the last moment by a quick flick of the lamp. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds.

  Then one of the sgàilean gets me. It grabs hold of my left elbow and digs in with the pain of a thousand needles. I swing the lantern at it, except I can’t tell exactly where it is, so I’m swinging blind. The lantern slams into the tree trunk and shatters the moment it hits. I sense the sgàilean freeze, as if holding a collective breath. But the fire hasn’t gone out. The little oil that was left spreads onto the tree trunk, and the fire leaps across with it, gorging on its newfound fuel. Within moments, the whole tree is ablaze.

  The sgàilean disperse at once. I take a couple of steps away from the fire and collapse onto the grass. I’m safe; they’re gone. For now.

  The tree is so large that the fire is visible from the whole enclave. People flock to it, attracted by the safety of its flames. The first to arrive praise me for my quick thinking. I nod without smiling; I have no intention of admitting that I started the fire by accident. Others from Clann-na-Bruthaich lament the destruction of the tree in unnecessarily loud voices, discussing what it means for the future of their people. Someone even has the kindness to tell me that Kenrick will almost certainly punish me for my vandalism. I don’t really care; I’m just glad to be alive.

  There’s lots of speculation about how the sgàilean could have arrived on Skye and why they’re attacking us now, when they didn’t in Norveg. A couple of people ask my opinion, but I don’t have any answers for them. All I know is that this will have dire consequences for us all.

  Despite the heat raging from the tree, we huddle underneath it, waiting out the long night until the sun starts to rise.

  Dawn is sticky, like cold oats. I ask if someone will take me to the loch, but there are no volunteers, even though I insist the sgàilean will have retreated now that the sun has risen. In the end, we compromise, and two women agree to take me, under the protection of some flaming branches. In truth, I’m happier that we have fire with us too.

  It’s a misty morning, making everything in the enclave seem less real. We pass abandoned weapons and broken lanterns — items that were discarded during the struggle. I’m grateful to the mist for hiding the majority of what occurred.

  Dew from the grass seeps into my boots, and by the time we reach the loch, my toes have gone numb. I’m heartened, however, by the number of people standing in the shallows. Aileen must have spread the word fast enough to save the majority of our clan. I strain to check and, yes, she’s there, along with Agatha and Maistreas Eilionoir.

  Catriona wades forward as I approach.

  “Someone burned our tree,” she says.

  I drop the branch I’m holding into the loch. The flames wither away with a sharp hiss.

  “Yes,” I say, unable to look her in the face. “That was me . . .”

  “We’ll deal with your crime later. Right now, I need to hear everything you know about these shadows.”

  She’s standing too close to me, her jaw tight.

  “Where’s Kenrick?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer my question. “Come with me,” she says. I do as I’m told and follow her away from the loch.

  An emergency meeting is called in the bothan we used yesterday, with the same people in attendance. All except Kenrick. Agatha sits on her own and refuses to speak to me when I ask if she’s okay. It doesn’t take me long to discover why.

  “Kenrick is dead,” Catriona starts. “The shadows took him. I watched them drag away his broken body with my own eyes. He is not the only loss from last night, and the girl who caused it all is sitting right here among us. If you’re looking for someone to blame, there she is.” She points at Agatha with a rigid arm.

  Agatha nearly falls over in her haste to stand up. “It’s not my fault, it’s y-yours!” she says. “You shouldn’t have — taken the necklace in the — first place. It wasn’t yours and you sh-shouldn’t have taken it.”

  All eyes are on Catriona now. She addresses everyone.

  “It’s true I took the amulet from the Scotian queen — I slipped it from her neck while we were still in Norveg. I have no shame in my actions; it contained the greatest weapon we have ever known. Yet this woman” — she gestures to Maistreas Eilionoir — “was planning to throw it in the ocean. Another example of weak leadership.”

  “It is riddled with the darkest blood magic,” says Maistreas Eilionoir. “I should not need to remind you that magic is not dùth. That necklace has no place on this island.”

  “It was our protection,” spits Catriona, “in case the deamhain should return. Have you forgotten so soon the threat they represent? Their attack on our enclave is scoured into every fiber of my being: the people we lost that day, the amount we have suffered since . . . There was no way I was going to leave us vulnerable to another invasion. The necklace was our insurance against that. A true leader would have recognized its necessity.”

  “A true leader would not have been so reckless,” says Maistreas Eilionoir.

  “It would have been safe under my protection had that retarch not tried to steal it.”

  “You will not speak of her like that.” Maistreas Eilionoir’s voice booms. She stands up to add extra weight to her words. “Do I really have to keep reminding you that if it weren’t for Agatha, you would all still be locked away in the bowels of a mountain.”

  “Do I have to keep reminding you that this is our home. Do not outstay your welcome.”

  The two women stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. It is Lenox who breaks the silence.

  “We are not here to lay blame,” he says. “Rather, to decide what must be done. Come nightfall, the sgàilean will return, and we need to be prepared.”

  “Correct,” says Catriona, still staring at Maistreas Eilionoir. “Jaime, you know more about these creatures than anyone. Why did they attack us now, when they didn’t in the mountain? I was told they only targeted people with foreign blood.”

  My cheeks flush as everyone turns their heads toward me.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” I say. My throat suddenly feels like it’s full of thistles, making it difficult to get the words out. “They’ve changed somehow. Maybe because of Queen Nathara? Because she died, I mean.” Catriona is still staring at me, so I keep talking. “The sgàilean were made to serve the royal family, and Nathara was the last one alive. The shadows stayed at Dunnottar Castle — even after the plague killed everyone else in Scotia — because of her; whatever magic it was that created them tethered them to her somehow. But now that she’s gone, they don’t have anyone to serve. Maybe the rules that bound them died when Nathara did.” I raise my shoulders to my ears. “That’s only a guess, though.”

  “How do we destroy them?” Catriona asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Then how do we get t
hem back in the amulet?”

  “I don’t know that, either. . . . Nathara had a special phrase she used to say, but I . . . can’t remember what it was. And I’m not sure they’d listen to anyone but her.”

  Catriona exhales sharply through her nose. “Some use you are,” she says.

  Hot beads of sweat gather around the base of my neck. “Well. There is one person . . . who might be able to help.”

  “Oh?”

  “Um. I don’t know but . . . there was a man. He called himself the Badhbh.”

  “The Badhbh? What sort of a name is that? Who is he?”

  “He’s the one who made the sgàilean, with King Balfour. I found his diary in Dunnottar Castle. He’s one of the few people to survive the plague, so he could still be alive. If he is, he might know how to stop them.”

  “How do we find him?” All of Catriona’s questions come out as a bark.

  “I . . .” I hate myself for having to give the same answer yet again. “I don’t know.”

  Catriona looks like she might spit at my feet. Or on my face.

  “His last diary entry said he was going to travel west,” I say. “So maybe he’s somewhere . . . west?”

  “The whole of Scotia is west of Dunnottar,” she says. “That doesn’t help us in the slightest. He could be anywhere. If he’s even still alive. The plague was over forty years ago; anything could have happened to him since then. Anyone have any useful suggestions?”

  I shrink into my chair as another wave of heat rushes to my cheeks.

  “We should send runners to the other Skye clans without delay,” says Maistreas Eilionoir. “They need as much warning as possible in order to prepare their defenses for tonight. As for here, we should erect fires around the entire enclave with enough wood to burn through the night; the fires will protect us until we discover how to make the sgàilean return to the necklace.”