The Broken Raven

by Joseph Elliott

  The Badhbh runs a finger down the length of his nose. “If that is what you are expecting from me, I’m afraid you have been misinformed,” he says. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we arrived on Skye.

  “What do you mean?” asks Maistreas Eilionoir.

  “Exactly what I said. The sgàilean were made to serve the royal family, to obey only them. If Nathara is dead, there is no one left alive who can control them. Including me.”

  What? “So why are you here?” I say, my voice rising. “Why didn’t you tell me that before now? Why did we go all the way to bloody Scotia and risk our lives bringing you back if you can’t even help us?”

  Everyone stares at me while I catch my breath. It felt liberating to shout, like something inside of me was released, if only a little.

  “I said I’m unable to control them. I didn’t say I couldn’t help you.” The Badhbh’s lips relax into a humorless smile. “I see my previous lesson on semantics was lost on you.”

  Maistreas Eilionoir raises her hand and takes a step forward. One look from her is enough to know I shouldn’t say anything more. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to explain how you can help us,” she says to the Badhbh. “How do we get rid of the sgàilean?”

  “There is only one way,” says the Badhbh. He looks at each of us in turn as if measuring our worth. “You must fight them.”

  There are hek loads of lakes in this part of Scotia. I knew there would be cuz I saw them on King Edmund’s map, but there are even more what weren’t on his map, which is hek skap, cuz I hadn’t planned for those ones. We have to keep windin round them, which makes the journey even longer. No one can say they’re not wondrous lookin, though. When the sun shines through, they ripple with star sparks, and when the skies are dark, they look like they wanna suck you in and drown you in blackness.

  Today, while we’ve been trottin, I’ve been imaginin I’m the last person left in the whole world. It’s easy to imagine that here. Me and Eydis, with nothin but the whole world to explore. I think about the places we’d go and the things what we’d discover. Just the two of us, trottin on forever.

  My imaginin comes crashin down the moment I see him. He’s sat atop a white elk on a ridge not two hundred yards away. The elk’s antlers stretch up into the air like lightnin claps. It must be the same animal I saw followin me the day after I left. Even from this far, I know exactly who’s ridin it.

  Bolverk.

  I shoulda known it’d be him who came after me. I bet he volunteered straightaways. He’s been wantin to get his grubby hams round my throat since the first day I met him. The elk tosses its head from side to side. Bolverk knows I’ve seen him; he wanted me to see him. That’s why he put himself up high on the ridge; he wants the chase. He’s too far away for me to see his face proper, but I know he’s smilin wicked.

  Holy skap, what am I sposed to do now? I click my tongue and jiggle Eydis’s reins. She sets off at a gallop. She don’t need tellin that we gotta go fast. From up on the ridge, Bolverk spurs the elk too, only he does it with a kick hard enough to crack its ribs. The elk’s screech echoes through the rain toward me.

  There’s a forest to my left where I can maybe lose him. As soon as we enter, I wonder if I’ve been bugdumb goin in. The trees are rammed so dense it’s hard for Eydis to go fast. They’re like spruces, only spinier and more hateful. Eydis is weavin in and out, but one wrong step and we’ll both come crashin. The needles claw at my hair, tryin to rip me down. The whole forest hums with their sticky sweet smell.

  “You can’t run forever, little raven,” I hear from somewhere. In front? Behind? Beside? I can’t tell. It’s gettin lighter ahead: the end of the forest. Keep goin, Eydis. You can do it, you can do it.

  We burst out of the trees at a speed what makes my stomach gulp. I don’t know where Bolverk is. I’m hopin his elk isn’t nimble like Eydis, with its hek bulkin antlers and all. Maybe it tossed him headfirst into a tree. I can only pray.

  No such luck; he’s out of the forest a little ways east of us. He turns in my direction. There’s a lake in front of me, blockin off the way, so I head up the hill on my left. Eydis is faster than the elk, I’m sure of it. It’s really spewin down now; evrythin’s smeared through the blur of rain. The hill turns steeper, the ground beneath us rockier. Eydis’s hoof-clops change from sloppin to crackin. We’re nearly at the top, and from there I can decide what’s the best way to go.

  The hill is higher than what it looked from below. There’s a thin ridge that runs for as far as I can see, although the rain is still obscurin my view. We’re goin so fast and the rain is so hard that I don’t see the drop until we’re right on top of it. Eydis rears up, nearly throwin me from the saddle. She shuffles backward, her front hooves loosenin stones, which fall over the precipice. It’s like someone’s cut the hill in two and taken a thick slice outta its middle, creatin a hek bulk gap. It’s too wide to get across; we’ll have to go back the way we came. I turn Eydis around, but while we’ve been stopped, Bolverk’s had a chance to catch up. He’s on the hill, waitin to see which way we turn so he can cut us off. We’re trapped. Unless . . . I look over my shoulder, tryin to judge how big the gap is. It’s too wide for a horse to jump. But then, Eydis isn’t no ordinary horse. I jostle her forward, toward Bolverk. He doesn’t move none. He just watches me come toward him, smug as a goosefart. When I’m halfway between him and the hill edge, I turn Eydis back around. Bolverk realizes what we’re gunna try to do.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he ses. “It’s suicide.”

  He must’ve been given orders to take me back alive, cuz I know sure as muck he doesn’t give two hells about whether I live or die.

  “We gunna do this, Eydis?” I say into her ears. She snorts, tellin me she’s ready, then starts gallopin toward the drop without me needin to encourage her. She knows what we gotta do.

  From what I saw of the drop, it’s at least a hundred yards down; if we don’t make it, we’ll both die quickspit and no mistakin. We’re drawin closer, Eydis’s hooves thunderin, the rain thunderin, the blood thunderin in my head. We reach the edge and Eydis launches herself over the gap. We’re in the air and time disappears. There isn’t nothin in my ears but silence. I don’t look down; I can’t look down. Eydis stretches her legs forward, reachin, reachin for the other side. We’re gunna make it, we’re gunna make it, we’re gunna —

  Her front hooves hit the other side, but the edge is loose and crumbles away beneath us. By the time Eydis’s back hooves make contact, there isn’t nothin there for them to stand on. She’s scramblin, her legs fightin for purchase. All the muscles in her neck tense with the strainin. I lean forward as far as I can, tryin to help tip the balance with my weight. One last, desperate push and then she finds firmer footin and stumbles us onto solid ground.

  “We made it!” I’m rubbin her white hair and huggin her neck. “You did it, Eydis. You’re the most hek ríkka horse there ever was!”

  There’s no way Bolverk’s elk’ll be able to make the jump. Now’s our chance to get away.

  I glance behind me just in time to see Bolverk pull out a bjark — a studded stone what’s attached to a short length of rope. He spins it above his head then hurtles it across the gap, too quick to avoid. The stone end slams into my chest and I fall from Eydis’s back, landin on the ground with a shudderin headsmack. Eydis whimpers and turns in a frantic circle.

  There’s a thud beside us. I was wrong about the elk not bein able to make the jump. Bolverk slides off the animal and takes two mighty strides until he’s towerin above me. His smile is pigsick.

  “Hello, little raven,” he ses.

  “What do you mean ‘fight them’?” Kenrick asks the Badhbh.

  “Exactly what you think I mean,” the Badhbh replies. “You must draw the sgàilean into the enclave and destroy them, one at a time. That is the only way you can be rid of them for good.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” Lenox asks.

  “With one of these.�
�� The Badhbh reaches into his cloak and draws out a concealed sword. I don’t know why it surprises me that he’s carrying a weapon, but it does. Maybe because he hasn’t taken it out before now, not even when the imitator attacked. The hilt is worn, with dusty gaps where gemstones used to be. In contrast, the blade looks clean and new. Where it catches the light, it glows a dark berry red. “King Balfour was insistent that only the royal family have control over the sgàilean. I argued against him, but he would not heed my warnings.” A deep frown crumples the Badhbh’s forehead as he talks about the old Scotian king. “I enchanted this blade in secret, to protect myself and those I loved.”

  “You’re saying that blade can destroy sgàilean?” asks Kenrick.

  “I believe so, although the opportunity has never arisen to test it.”

  “One blade is not going to be much use against a thousand sgàilean,” says Lenox.

  “Correct,” says the Badhbh, “but I can make more.”

  “No,” says Maistreas Eilionoir. “Permitting you to practice your unlawful art is one thing, but placing corrupt weapons in the hands of my clan is quite another. Magic has no place on this island. If that is the only option you have for us, we will find our own solution.”

  The Badhbh’s eyelids close and then float open again. “The sgàilean were created with ancient blood magic,” he says. “Whether you like it or not, magic is already here, and my solution is the only way for you to be rid of it.”

  The room is cocooned in silence. Maistreas Eilionoir’s tiny nose flares and twitches. Kenrick looks at her and then back at the Badhbh.

  “Tell us what we must do,” he says.

  “Bring me all of your weapons and the largest cooking pot you have. If you want them ready before nightfall, I will have to start right away. I will also need a sacrifice. Blood magic cannot occur without blood.”

  The enclave is a hive of activity. Word has gotten out that we are fighting the sgàilean tonight. People are busying themselves by carting great armfuls of weapons to the Badhbh, reinforcing the defenses, cleaning their armor.

  The apprehension in the air is so heavy it makes my skin prickle. Everyone knows what a great risk we’re taking by goading the sgàilean into a fight. In front of us, a goat is dragged by its legs toward the meeting bothan. It shrieks as its head knocks against errant stones. I wish they’d lead it to its death with a bit more dignity. It has a lot more suffering to come.

  Cray and I are on our way to see Aileen, who I’ve been told is helping out in the sickboth; apparently all duties have been suspended while the threat of the sgàilean remains, so everyone’s assisting wherever they’re needed. I know Aileen will be mad at me if I don’t introduce her to Cray before he leaves, plus I still haven’t had the chance to apologize for the way I’ve been treating her recently.

  The moment I step inside the sickboth, a voice calls out, “Hey, good to see you, laddy!”

  “Donal!” I run straight to his bed. “I’m so glad you made it back!”

  “Likewise,” he says with a chuckle. “You found the boat, I presume?”

  “No, it wasn’t there. You took it?”

  “We did, but it was brought back for you. Did you not see it? It might not have been in exactly the same spot, but I told them the general area.”

  Great, so I swam the whole way and was nearly devoured by sucker eels just because I didn’t look properly. I swallow my frustration. “Where’s Violet? Did you come back together?” I ask.

  “We did indeed — who do you think did the rowing?” says Donal. “I was in no fit state. That thing — whatever it was — got me bad. I was delusional, slipping in and out of consciousness. If it wasn’t for Violet, there’s no way I would have made it back. She was a little unsteady herself — poisoned by the one that grabbed her wrist.” His eyes flick up to the sores on my neck. “I’m guessing you may know a thing or two about what that feels like. Anyway, they left us in pursuit of you — presumably thinking we were too injured to recover. We tried looking for you, but the state we were in, we weren’t much help to anyone. Sorry we had to leave you there.”

  “Don’t apologize — I’m just glad you’re both alive.”

  “What about your mage? Did you find him? I’m guessing it’s not that handsome lad behind you, unless he’s really good at hiding his age.”

  “I’m afraid I’m just your average strapping hero,” says Cray, standing up to his full height.

  Before I can introduce them properly, there’s a thump on my arm. “Have I got to beat you up to get some attention?”

  “Aileen!” I offer her a timid smile, and she wraps me in a tight hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” she says. “When Donal and Violet turned up without you . . .” She breaks away and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Wait — what happened to your neck?”

  I tell her about the imitator and how it tried to strangle me. She bounds off, only to return a moment later with a small bowl filled with balm. It smells of dead grass and goat hair.

  “This worked well on Donal and Violet,” she says. Her eyes keep flicking to Cray when she thinks he’s not looking. “Their scars have already started to die down a bit.”

  “I can vouch for that,” says Donal.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  While she’s lathering it on, Cray looms over my shoulder. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Cray. You’re bracelet girl, right?”

  “Oh, you’ve heard about me?” Aileen gives me a pointed side-look.

  “Of course,” says Cray. “The first time we met he wouldn’t shut up about you. It was actually quite annoying.”

  A blast of heat flares in my cheeks.

  “He’s told me about you too,” says Aileen, wiping her hands on her trousers.

  “About how great I am, I hope,” says Cray.

  “Mainly that, yes.”

  My face is getting even hotter. Why did I think the two of them meeting would be a good idea?

  “Anyway, Cray needs to be getting back to the mainland,” I say.

  “Actually,” he says, “I think I’m going to stay for a while.”

  “Are you?” I ask.

  “Are you?” echoes Aileen.

  “Why?”

  “To help you fight the sgàilean, of course. I’ve seen you swing a sword, Jaime . . . I need to make sure you don’t accidentally stab someone. Or yourself.” Aileen laughs, which grates on me more than it should. “Besides, at this very moment, the Badhbh is in a room somewhere enchanting weapons. He’s making me a magic spear. Capable of destroying killer shadows. That’s not an opportunity I’m going to pass up in a hurry.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay . . .”

  “Wait, the Badhbh’s here? You found him?” Aileen asks, grabbing me by my wrists. “I can’t believe that wasn’t the first question I asked.”

  “You three are making far too much noise,” says one of the Herbists, coming over to hustle us out. “This is a place of rest. All of you, out. You too, Aileen. You need to prepare for tonight.”

  “What’s happening tonight?” Aileen asks.

  “Only the most terrifying fight imaginable . . .” I say, surprising myself with my ability to make light of the situation. “Come with us; I’ll explain everything.”

  I say goodbye to Donal, and then Cray, Aileen, and I walk toward the loch. I tell Aileen about the battle that’s planned for tonight and her face tightens with unease. She goes on to tell me about her journey north with Agatha, and their encounters with the sgàilean and the deer. And how, when they got back, Agatha discovered Catriona was keeping Kenrick captive. It sounds like the two of them have been even busier than I have.

  We stop and watch the deer for a bit.

  “So they stay in the water all night and it prevents the sgàilean from getting them?” asks Cray.

  “That’s right,” says Aileen.

  “Clever. Hey, let me introduce you to Bras.” He whistles, and Bras slips away from his new friends and trots over to us.

>   “Wow,” says Aileen, stroking his flank. “He’s incredible.”

  “Want a ride?” Cray asks her.

  “Absolutely!”

  Cray jumps on and then pulls Aileen up behind him. She holds on around his waist and then the two of them speed off in a large loop around the loch. I smile as I watch them, but my cheeks are tight. I don’t mind them riding together. Of course I don’t; I’m glad they’re getting along. It’s just strange. It’s like two worlds colliding, and I can’t figure out how I feel about it.

  As they’re returning, the Fifth chimes out from around the wall. Bras comes skidding to a halt.

  “What does that mean?” asks Cray.

  “We’re being called to a meeting,” I reply. “This way.”

  Cray and I stroll to the meeting tree, while Aileen rides next to us with a big smile on her face. I’ve always hated bull-riding, but for some reason, right now, all I want is for Aileen to get off so I can ride Bras instead.

  A large group has already started to gather around the meeting tree, or what’s left of it. It used to be so majestic, a symbol of all that was great about this clan. Now it’s just a burned-out husk, a giant claw grasping at nothing. We wait at the back as the last few people drift over. Agatha joins us and, to my surprise, so does Donal.

  “If I’m well enough to stand, I’m well enough to fight,” Donal says.

  Kenrick climbs up onto one of the tree’s blackened branches.

  “Fàilte!” he calls out to welcome everyone. The crowd falls silent. “I’m sure most of you have already heard, but for those who have not, here is the truth: we are fighting the sgàilean. Tonight. This man on my left is known as the Badhbh, and he has traveled here from Scotia to assist us. We are indebted not just to him, but also to three other people who risked their lives to bring him here: Donal, Violet, and Jaime. An gaisge is urramach.”