The Broken Raven

by Joseph Elliott

  Catriona sucks in her hollow cheeks. “Wait,” she says. “We can use the sgàilean to our advantage. We know about their existence and we know how to protect ourselves from them. Once we share this information with our allies — the other clans on Skye — then the shadows will have no one left to attack except the Raasay islanders. The sgàilean will clear out your enclave for you, leaving you free to return.”

  There’s a moment of silence, then Maistreas Eilionoir replies, “What you’re suggesting is mass murder.”

  “Is it really any different from what you suggested yesterday: storming the enclave and killing everyone yourself?”

  “That is not what I suggested. I proposed a show of force to convince them to surrender. That’s completely different. And if our advance did lead to battle, we would kill only their leaders and anyone who tried to stop us. All other lives would be spared.”

  “Do you want your home back or not?” Catriona scowls. “This is the perfect solution.”

  “There are children in that enclave. Innocent lives,” says Lenox.

  He’s right. It’ll be full of children similar to Lileas, the girl from Raasay who I was forced to marry. The girl I failed. I imagine a whole group of children playing, and every one of them has her face.

  “Also there is H-Hector and — and Edme,” says Agatha. “They are Lileas’s parents and they are nice people and kind. Lileas told me.”

  Catriona acts as if Agatha hasn’t spoken. “These people chose their fate the moment they took over your enclave. Do you think they cared about your children? Or what the deamhain would do to them? Of course they didn’t. So I don’t know why you’re so eager to offer them your mercy. This is exactly the kind of strong leadership I have been talking about — the difficult decisions that must be made.” She sweeps her hair back from her forehead. “We have no time to vote with stones, so let’s see a show of hands. All those in favor of not warning the Raasay islanders about the sgàilean, vote now.”

  One by one, hands start to rise throughout the room, all of them belonging to people from Clann-na-Bruthaich. Some shoot up with confidence. Others drift up after some intense staring from Catriona. It’s incredible to witness the power she has over them.

  My hand stays pressed against my leg. I’ve seen what sgàilean do to people. Every time I close my eyes, the memories are there. It was my idea to take the shadows to Norveg with us, and while I don’t regret that decision as such, I can’t vote to inflict that fate upon anyone else. The chiefs of Raasay are our enemies, but not everyone there is.

  “And all those against?” Catriona sounds bored with the formality.

  I am the first person to put my hand up, closely followed by Agatha. Maistreas Eilionoir, Lenox, and a few people from Clann-na-Bruthaich also raise their hands.

  “You don’t get to vote,” Catriona snaps at Agatha. “Not that it makes any difference. With only seven votes against, it is agreed: the people of Raasay are not to be warned about the sgàilean.”

  “No!” shouts Agatha. Her chair clatters to the floor as she leaps from her seat. “You are wrong. You can’t d-do this.”

  I agree with her — of course I do — yet I remain in my seat, staring at the floor. My whole body has shut down, my thoughts turned to nothing.

  “We can do this, and we will,” Catriona says. “And don’t forget: the sgàilean are only a threat because of your stupidity.”

  “It’s you who is — stupid!” Agatha’s fists are two tight balls. She roars in frustration and kicks her chair, then marches out of the bothan. Catriona watches her go with a flicker of a smirk on her face. Just when I thought I couldn’t despise her any more.

  “As I was saying,” says Catriona, “the consensus is clear: we do not seek to contain the sgàilean until the Raasay islanders have been destroyed. Leig leis.”

  “Leig leis,” echo most of the people in the room.

  “Let’s hope they do it soon,” says Catriona, once again looking at Maistreas Eilionoir. “The sooner you leave our enclave, the better.”

  “There’s nothing quite like the smell of the open sea,” ses Konge Grímr. He’s talkin more to himself than to me. “Tell me what that looks like.”

  He made me describe it to him yesterday and all, and the day before that, and it hasn’t changed none since then.

  “There’s loadsa water,” I say. “Evrywhere . . . Your Supremacy.” I gotta call him that, even though it’s hek skap.

  “I need more than that,” he ses. He always wants more. I’m not good at describin.

  “I can’t see nothin but water. I don’t know what else you want me to say. It’s all movin about up and down. And it’s blue.”

  “What kind of blue?” he says.

  “Miserable blue,” I say.

  His mouth twitches a little at that. “Better,” he ses.

  It was the bats what ripped out his eyes — the white bats what live in Sterkr Fjall. They got him durin the fight with the people from overseas. He’s hek fiery about it and all, talks about it all the time and I got no choice but to listen.

  He starts walkin toward the front of the boat. Wind Serpent. That’s the boat’s name. He uses the sides to guide him. I haven’t got no choice but to follow cuz of the skap trappin chain what’s tied on my wrist. The other end is tied to the king’s so evrywhere he goes, I gotta go too. Sept when he’s washin or wastin, of course. When he’s doin that, I’m left chained outside, but I still gotta hear it and smell it and all.

  I’ve been chained to him for a week now. Ever since the mountain. Ever since my mother — my own mother . . .

  I never want to see her again. She’s nothin to me now. How could she do it? Send me away, chained to this grotfiend? I bet she’s already necked the money they paid her. She’d better hope I never see her again, cuz if I do there isn’t no sayin what I’d do.

  They never let me say goodbye to Granpa Halvor; that’s what makes me most fiery. What if my mother doesn’t tell him the truth about where I’m gone and he never knows what happened to me? Right now, I don’t know if I’ll ever go home again. All I know is we’re goin to Ingland, which is a diffrunt country a long ways over the sea. I don’t know why we’re goin there; I hear a lot of things bein chained to the king all the day, but he hasn’t never mentioned why we’re goin where we’re goin.

  This is my life now, and it’s a hek wreckmess of a one. I tried breakin out of the chain. Course I did. But it’s stuck hek tight, and Konge Grímr is dirty clever and always hides the keys too far away for reachin.

  He stops in a sudden and I’m so busy thinkin about my wreckmess of a life that I nearly crash into him. We’re close to the front of the boat now, on the platform above the open deck. Most of evryone else is rowin beneath us. It’s cold. It’s not spewin no more, but it looks like it might start again any time. I don’t like bein on the boat. My stomach feels like a dead fish the whole time. Three days we’ve been on the sea and it’s not gettin no better.

  “Róhh! Róhh! Róhh!” shouts the man at the front. He’s keepin evryone rowin in time.

  Konge Grímr reaches out with his hand to find my head. His rank scraggin fingers poke about until they locate my ear and then he leans in and whispers, “Look at all the people below. Is anyone rowing out of time? Who’s not exerting themselves as much as the others? Tell me what you see.”

  I look at the hundred or more men and women rowin together as one. They’re sweatin and strainin their nashers. When they see me lookin, they start rowin even harder, like they know what the king asked me, like they know I’m spyin for him.

  “Róhh! Róhh! Róhh!” the man keeps shoutin.

  “Evryone’s rowin good,” I say.

  “Good,” ses Konge Grímr. “As it should be.”

  “They’re sweatin rivers cuz they know I’m watchin,” I say. “They’re scared of you.”

  “No,” Konge Grímr ses. “They’re scared of you. They know you’ll tell me the truth.” He twists his back, makin his spine g
o click. “Why do you think, out of everyone in that mountain, I chose you to be my eyes? A meeker, more placid child would have been much easier to control, less likely to cause trouble . . . But I needed my people to know that my new eyes were ruthless, that they would not hold back, that they would not be scared to speak up if they witnessed someone trying to deceive me. That little display you gave in the mountain was a perfect demonstration. You’re more like me than you realize.” Well, that isn’t no compliment, that’s for hek sure. I’m not nothin like this grotweasel. “It was the right decision to choose you . . . wasn’t it?” he asks me.

  “Yes,” I say, cuz what else am I sposed to say to that?

  “Good,” ses Konge Grímr. “Because if you ever betray me, I will crush you with my own bare hands. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I swallow nothin and turn out front, facin the water. There’s a grizzlin wind what’s splashin my face with seadrops. In front of me, a bulkin great sea dragon looms up outta the front of the boat, with flowers and swirlins carved in its neck. It’s sposed to stop monsters from attackin. Granpa Halvor must’ve told me that. Can’t see what no hunk of wood’s gunna do to save us — carved up all pretty or not — but there you go.

  “I’ve had enough air. Take me back to the cabin,” ses Konge Grímr.

  The cabin is the inside part where the king sleeps. I hold his elbow like how he taught me and lead him to it. On the way, we walk past the ugly giant man with the scar, Bolverk. He’s not rowin; he’s the leader of Konge Grímr’s invasion force, so he doesn’t have to. He’s the king’s favorite, I reckon. He stands there watchin me with a mad-fox snarl. I haven’t never felt so hated by one person before. He’s still skapped I kicked his leg when we were in the mountain, specially cuz it made evryone else laugh. He points at me and then puts his finger across his neck like he’s sayin he’s gunna kill me. I spit at his feet to show I’m not scared.

  “Who spat?” ses Konge Grímr.

  I shouldn’t of done that. The king’s askin me, but Bolverk answers. “It was me, Your Supremacy. Forgive me. I didn’t see you walking past.”

  “I’m the one with no eyes,” ses Konge Grímr. “I suggest you use yours better in the future.”

  “Of course, Your Supremacy.”

  Why’d Bolverk lie about the spittin? Does he think I owe him somethin now or what? I don’t owe him nothin.

  Konge Grímr hits my shoulder, impatient to keep walkin. Bolverk doesn’t stop lookin at me for one blink as we go past.

  At night, Konge Grímr makes me sleep next to him, on the floor. It’s hek cold. I don’t even have no blanket or nothin. Even when we’re sleepin, I’m still chained to him, so evry time he moves he’s pullin on my arm and jostlin, which isn’t no way to get a good night’s nappin. I haven’t slept proply in days. Not since my own mother let them take me away to the end of the world on this harsk skittin boat.

  There’s a tear snakin down my face, but I’m not cryin. I wanna visit Granpa Halvor. I want him to make me sweetmilk and tell me tales of Mal-Rakki, and promise evrythin’s gunna be okay. But it’s not. His shack is a long ways away now. A hek long ways. I slide my hand into my pocket and touch the stone what’s in there. It’s the one from the plum what Granpa Halvor gave me. I’ve still got it. I’m never throwin it away. I hold it tight in my hand and pray to Øden for sleep to come.

  Somethin wakes me. I musta dozed off. First I’m thinkin Konge Grímr was pullin on the chain in his sleep again, but he’s still on his side and the chain’s hangin slack. Musta been somethin else. It’s hek dark in the cabin so I can’t see almost nothin. I squint into the blackness. Was that somethin movin? A shadow by the window? Maybe a death shadow, like the ones what killed evryone in the mountain? Well, not evryone, cuz the king’s not dead, is he, more’s poor to me. I keep thinkin about the shadows ever since Granpa Halvor told me about them. No one knows what happened to them after the fight. They could of left the mountain and hid on this boat. They could be in the walls right now.

  Somethin moves again. There’s definitely somethin in the cabin with us. I sit up, careful not to make the chain rattle. Maybe I should wake Konge Grímr? I’m sposed to be his eyes, after all. What if whatever’s in the room’s plannin on killin him dead?

  Too late. The shadow leaps forward and there’s a great smackin pwok! right over my mouth. Somethin’s holdin me around my waist, tight as a thunderclap. I’m strugglin but there isn’t no way I’m gettin free.

  “Where are the keys?” someone whispers. Not shadows, then. Someone who wants to break me free, but why do they wanna do that?

  “Check above the bed,” ses a diffrunt voice. Two people, one man one woman.

  “Got it.”

  There’s a rattle of the keys and then they start unlockin the chain. They’re tryin to be quiet, but they’re doin a bad job of it. If Konge Grímr wakes up they’re gunna be in hek trouble. I dunno if I want him to wake or not. Am I safer chained to him or in the hands of these strangers? The skittin handslap is still tight over my mouth, so there isn’t nothin I can do to wake the king even if I wanted to. The chain falls off of my wrist. The disappearin weight is a straightaways relief. Underneath, the skin on my wrist stings raw. The people drag me out in a stumble sorta way.

  Once we’re outside, the wind hits me bamsmack in my eyes and it’s hek freezin. I’m dragged around to the back of the boat. There’s a group of four or five people.

  “We got her,” ses the man who’s holdin me. His voice is drunken. I got lots of experience in tellin when someone’s been neckin. There’s a cheer. They’ve all been neckin.

  “What should we do with her?” ses the woman what took me.

  A man steps forward. Bolverk. I shoulda guessed it would be him. It was hek stupid antagonizin him like I did. I was thinkin as long as I was tied to the king he wouldn’t be able to do nothin to me, but I hadn’t thought on him stealin me away like this.

  “Hello, little raven,” he ses to me. It’s not the first time he’s called me that. I hate it. He only ses it to mock my messed-up face. He leans in. His blue-inked lips peel back to show a mouthful of harsk yellow teeth. “Still think it was clever spitting at me earlier?” So that’s why he took the blame: he wanted to punish me himself. I don’t say nothin. I’m not apologizin. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re not very popular on this boat. People think you’re spying on them. And they’re right, aren’t they? The king’s eyes, the king’s spy, constantly whispering in his ear, telling him what you see, and maybe a few things that you don’t. You could be telling him anything, turning him against us. I don’t trust you. None of us do. Konge Grímr is a great man, but he made a poor decision choosing you. Who knows what filth you’re filling his head with?”

  “I haven’t told him nothin but what I’ve seen,” I say.

  “Well, you won’t be telling him anything anymore. Throw her overboard.”

  “Wait! No — ” But before I can say another crumb, that heavy, fat slap is over my mouth again.

  They can’t throw me overboard. I can’t swim. If I go over, I’ll drown.

  The one who’s holdin me is pullin me to the side. I’m strugglin to break free, but there isn’t no room for movin. We’re at the edge now, and I can see the water below. It’s black, tipped with shinin glints like fish scales. I’m lifted off the deck and my head’s tilted back. For a moment all I can see is stars, a hundred thousand stars or more. So many stars that the sky is more star than sky. It’s the most beautiful sky I’ve ever seen.

  “Goodbye, little raven,” ses Bolverk, jerkin my attention back to what’s about to happen.

  The man holdin me shoves me over the edge. The stars are a swirlin blur as I fall into the water.

  It is not my fault. I was trying to do the good thing. Catriona is the bad one. She shouldn’t have taken the Nice Queen Nathara’s necklace and she shouldn’t have worn it and if it wasn’t for her none of this would have happened.

  Now the shadow things are on t
he island and we can’t stop them. Also Catriona does not want to stop them. It is her plan to let them go to our enclave and kill the people there. Some of the Raasay people are bad ones and it is right that the shadow things should get them but some of the Raasay people are good ones so it is sad.

  I am outside Maistreas Eilionoir’s bothan which is where I was walking. She summoned me which means she wants to see me. I think she is going to tell me off for making the shadow things come out or maybe punish me. I do not want to be punished. I knock on the door and she says “enter” so I go in. She is sitting on the floor with her legs crossed.

  “Hello, Maistreas Eilionoir,” I say.

  “Agatha,” she says. “Sit.” She does not look happy.

  I sit.

  “What you did last night was beyond foolish. You put the lives of every single person in this enclave at risk.”

  “I — ” I try to say more, but she does not let me.

  “You made terrible decisions, acted impulsively, and did not think through the consequences.” My head is sad. I do not like Maistreas Eilionoir to say what she is saying. “As punishment, you are forbidden on the wall until further notice.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Silence! Instead, you are to walk around the outside of the enclave and count how many paces it is in its entirety.”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want to do that and I won’t d-do it.” It sounds like a boring job and a not important one.

  “Yes, you will. Because I am your elder and I am telling you that’s what you must do. To determine how best to defend ourselves from the sgàilean we need to know the exact size of the enclave. So you will go outside and count the paces. Understood?” I do understand but I do not tell her yes. “The sgàilean are a risk to all of us now, not just you.”

  What does she mean not just me? Maybe she’s talking about what Knútr the nasty deamhan said when the shadow things tried to get me on the ship. He said I am a foreign person like him but he was wrong.