Raven's Ascent

by Ben Blackwell

  I wasn’t involved in any of the politics anymore, luckily. Helping the Elders with a murder mystery was one thing, but nowadays it seemed to be mostly endless meetings and discussions, for which I didn’t envy them. Instead, I got to meet magicals all day, mostly witches and shamans, but I even met two water elementalists, a couple who ran a small plumbing business. I wasn’t sure if I found that ironic or fitting. Witches often ran magic shops, or shops selling crystals, herbs, or jewelry, so why shouldn’t elementalists use their powers in their day jobs, too?

  My thoughts were interrupted as my phone chimed again. I pulled it out and saw that there had already been another incident. This time, at the farmer’s market.

  I checked my phone for the fastest route, but then decided to take a cab instead. I usually preferred the cheaper public transportation. It took me long enough to get used to them, since I grew up having to go everywhere by foot or with a bike. But today, those ten minutes I might save by taking a cab could make all the difference.

  As I strode around the corner, a businessman was just getting out of a cab. He looked at me like a crazy person as I dashed toward it, and got in before anyone else could hail it.

  “Pfft, no respect anymore these days,” he muttered with an angry glance as I closed the door behind me, almost hitting him with it.

  Normally, I would have thrown a witty comment at him before driving off, but today, I had to focus on more important matters than my pride. I quickly gave the driver the address, then watched the traffic passing by us impatiently, my fingers tapping on the door.

  When I arrived a few minutes later, I could see that I wasn’t too late yet—the market was still standing, and there didn’t seem to be any ripped-up corpses yet, either. Not that I truly expected either to happen here, but sooner or later, it would.

  By following the sounds, I quickly found the reason for the message. A few people were brawling, while others were trying to separate them without success.

  As I looked more closely, I could see that some of them seemed to be witches or shamans, while others were clearly vampires. The other market visitors probably didn’t notice, but when you knew what to look for, the pointy teeth were an obvious giveaway. They had their fangs mostly drawn in, concealed, but they were still just a little too long and too pointy to be normal teeth.

  I quickly stepped in, trying to get between one of the witches and the vampire she was fighting, but all that got me was a punch in my side. I scoffed as I stumbled back.

  That’s what I get for trying to help you? Alright, let’s play rough, then.

  I drew in just a bit of magic into my hand, then shoved the vampire aside. The vampire was pushed back a few steps, where he recovered quickly and looked at me in surprise. I stared him down for a moment, then turned to the witch, who was already readying her fist for the next punch.

  “Stop it, god dammit,” I cursed quietly. “I’ve been running around for the Elders all day, getting people to stop brawling. We can’t do this out here in the open,” I hissed.

  The woman finally looked at me as I mentioned the Elders. Her jaw was clenched as she stared at the vampire, but she slowly lowered her fist. Hoping that they would remain peaceful, I turned toward the other five people—a wild mess of fists, feet, and even headbutts. I wondered if and how they still knew who was on their side and who wasn’t.

  It took me a couple of moments until I made out the three magicals in the group. One was a woman, almost old enough to be my grandmother, but that didn’t seem to slow her down. As I watched her, I saw her jab one vampire, then bite the arm of the other as he tried to grab her.

  Without their vampire speed and strength—that they luckily weren’t using—the vampires didn’t have the advantage, especially not while outnumbered. Getting their asses kicked in public by an elderly witch must hurt more than any spell could.

  I tried pushing the two sides apart again, cursing as they suddenly both turned against me, and shoved me back aggressively. They clearly didn’t want to stop fighting.

  “We can’t do this here,” I hissed at them. “There are humans watching, and this is going to end badly.”

  “That’s why we agreed to fists only,” one vampire snarled at me.

  “Granny here didn’t seem to get that,” the other vampire added angrily, shooting a glare at the older witch while rubbing his arm where she had bitten him.

  The brawl had stopped for a moment, but I could sense it was about to start again any time. “Can’t you at least move the fighting somewhere more private?”

  They all looked at me and shook their heads, then returned their focus to the others. I barely had time to sigh before the witches jumped the vampires again. They were already waiting with their arms wide open. They were all clearly happy to relieve some pent-up anger.

  But I was here on a mission, and I was not about to give up. As the vampire next to me took a swing at the witch, I intercepted and grabbed his wrist.

  “Got dammit, bloodsucker,” I hissed. “Can’t you—"

  Before I could finish, a fist landed in my face. I stumbled back, holding my jaw and spat out a bit of blood. Judging by the pain in my tongue, I had bitten it. I cursed as a wiped the blood from my lips.

  “It seems your own people aren’t your biggest fans at the moment, either,” a voice chuckled behind me.

  I turned around and saw Octavian standing there, arms crossed before his chest, a smirk on his face. He waited just long enough for me to open my mouth, but then strolled past me before I could say something.

  “Enough,” he shouted, his voice bellowing over the fighters.

  He shoved them apart, but unlike me, he didn’t get hit in return. Within a second, the fighting stopped, as the vampires noticed the Crimson Fang in front of them. He was wearing his suit again, but with the red tie and the pin, he was still easy enough to recognize. Even the three magicals must have realized that he was not someone you messed with.

  They grumbled angrily, then walked away. The vampires glared at him for a moment longer, then quietly turned around, too. Some spectators cheered a little, while others seemed to boo him out. But one angry glare from him silenced them just as quickly as it had the vampires and witches.

  “I had it under control,” I said as I walked up to him. “No need to march in here and play the hero.”

  He turned around to me and raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you call under control, no wonder they don’t listen to you.”

  His words were mean, but his voice was much more hurtful. This wasn’t friendly teasing or witty banter. His voice was cold, uncaring.

  “God dammit, Octavian, I didn’t steal the dagger!” I hissed at him. “And I didn’t kill the vampires.”

  He scoffed and turned around, but was stopped by an old man who was suddenly standing in front of him.

  The man looked at us expectantly, and I quickly stepped beside Octavian. “Can we help you, sir?” I asked in a light, friendly voice.

  The old man squinted at us. “You’re with the Elders, right?”

  I looked at him in surprise, then frowned. “Yes. Who are you?”

  “Eliphas. One of the few shamans who still remembers the past, it seems. There’s something that you both should hear. Walk with me,” he said with a coarse voice. He looked like he’d broken out of a retirement home, but his walk was confident. Shaky, but determined.

  I looked at Octavian, shrugged and waited for his reaction. He glared at me, looked at the old man, then sighed. “Fine, I’ll come.”

  The old man nodded enthusiastically, then continued walking. He hobbled a little, but it seemed to be simply old age, not an injury. While walking, I inspected him more closely. He was wearing brown pants, a plaid shirt, and a rain jacket on top. Coupled with his old leather shoes and his old-person-hat, I wouldn’t have guessed he was anything more than a regular senior citizen.

  He quickly led us to a small fountain in the middle of the marketplace. I remembered this trick from some old s
py movie—talking near a fountain or running water to drone out our voices, so others couldn’t overhear us. Maybe the old man had a sharper mind than I thought, or maybe it was simply coincidence. I was certainly interested in what he had to say, though.

  “The Elders didn’t tell us much, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that a magical dagger was stolen, right?” He looked at Octavian, but the vampire didn’t respond.

  Instead, Octavian crossed his arms and looked at me expectantly, clearly finding this very ironic. “Yes, good question, do you know anything about that?”

  I scoffed, then turned to the old man. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but… if it were true, what would you know about it?”

  His eyes lightened up for a moment, then a grim expression drifted over them. “I heard of Lazar’s death, very tragic. His ring was stolen, wasn’t it?”

  I slowly nodded, frowning at him. “Did you know him personally?”

  “I did, actually, he was a family friend.” he sighed.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Octavian whispered, the sarcasm gone from his voice.

  The old man smiled lightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at us with grief for a moment, then straightened up again. “Anyway, the ring. The ring. And the dagger.”

  Octavian and I looked at each other, both with confusion written on our faces. Had I overestimated the old man?

  “What about them?” I asked.

  “The trifecta!” he gasped.

  “The what now?”

  The man sighed. “The trifecta of darkness. Don’t any of you younglings care about magical history anymore?”

  Octavian looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “Never heard of it, either. Could you explain?”

  The man’s eyes darted between the two of us, then he stepped closer. “I tried talking to the Elders about it, but they said it was just a myth. An old shaman legend. But they don’t know. Don’t know the real story,” he whispered.

  I swallowed as he continued talking. This didn’t sound good. ‘Trifecta of darkness’ didn’t make it sound any better. But legendary magical artifacts? That was a story I wanted to hear.

  “Lazar knew about it. He kept it safe. The ring. And the dagger. In the vault. We knew we couldn’t let anyone get all three pieces, or the city would fall.” His voice was gloomy, like he was telling ‘us kids’ ghost stories before sending us to bed.

  “What… What do they do?” I whispered.

  The man’s eyes filled with wonder as he recalled the story, but there was also fear. A lot of it.

  “Generations ago, a powerful shaman lost his wife when she gave birth to their second son. He was filled with grief and rage. Unable to deal with his loss, he swore he would bring her back. He tried for years, and eventually created the three artifacts. A ring, a dagger, and an idol. Lazar was a descendent, which is how he got the ring, which was passed down for safekeeping. Supposedly, one can command dark and evil spirits with it.”

  I stared at him, then glanced at Octavian. I could see in his face that the phrase“evil spirit” brought his thoughts to the same events that I was thinking of.

  “It could command evil spirits? Are you sure? He might’ve been killed by one… Except…”

  “Or he was the one who commanded them in the first place,” Octavian finished my thought. “And now stole the dagger, too, after faking his death.”

  It looked at him flabbergasted for a moment. His thoughts had gone in a very different direction.

  “No no no, you don’t get it,” the old man interrupted. “Lazar was the warden, tasked with protecting it. No one else knew about the dagger, where it was exactly. They must’ve killed him to learn of its location.”

  I let the events passed through my head once again, figuring out the timeline. Someone attacked him openly during the meeting, then killed him secretly later. Then they robbed another witch to get the key to the vault. But then how did the vampires end up stealing it?

  “So… The vampires are behind it all?” I frowned.

  Octavian crossed his arms again. “No, they are not.”

  “Oh, so Lazar faking his death sounds more believable to you?” I stared down Octavian, but he couldn’t hold my gaze for long.

  “The dagger can kill spirits, send them back to the realm. It is said even demons feared it,” the old man went on, ignoring our debate. “I don’t know who stole it, but if someone has both the ring and the dagger, things are looking grim indeed.”

  “Let me guess, we need to guard the idol with all we have?” I asked.

  “We don’t have it.” The man sighed. “It had been in our possession years ago, but then it went missing. Then it resurfaced when a smuggler had it two years ago. Lazar could get his hands on it and put it in the vault, but then it went missing a few months ago.”

  Octavians eyed widened briefly as the man explained. He crossed his arms and frowned. “So… what can this mysterious bone idol do?”

  Wait, when did he say it was made from bone?

  “In the story, the shaman used the idol to summon the spirit of his wife,” the shaman continued. “He tried to use the ring to bind her into her body that he carefully preserved, but he failed. When her spirit wailed and shrieked, he had to send her back with the dagger. We tell the story to our kids, to teach them the death is permanent and to be accepted, not something you try to mess with. But we don’t tell them that it’s a true story, and that the artifacts exist. Because he did summon spirits with it, talked to them, even. We feared the wrong people could go after the artifacts with malicious intentions.”

  “Maybe they already have,” I whispered. “There were at least two attacks involving a spirit.”

  The old man looked at me and his eyes went glassy. “If that’s true, then whoever was after the ring and the dagger might already have the idol.”

  “So… There might be someone in the city who can bring the dead back to life? Is that it?” Octavian asked with a frown.

  “No no, my son,” the man replied, shaking his head. “Weren’t you listening? You can’t bring someone back to life.”

  I frowned. “But then—"

  “They can bring people back, but only as ghosts. You can’t just put a spirit back in its body,” the old man shook his head. “But worse, they can summon dark spirits, evil… things, demons even. And with the ring, they could command them to do anything they wanted. They could destroy the city with it.” His eyes were wide as he gripped our arms. “You have to tell them, make them believe! The Elder’s ignorance will be our downfall if we don’t act fast.”

  15

  I was wearing a regular outfit, and no weapons on my belt. Just a plain black top with small purple orchid prints and basic blue jeans. Still, I felt like a total outsider in the room.

  I’d grown somewhat accustomed to being surrounded by witches and shamans in the last week, even to being surrounded by members of the Ring. But this room made me uneasy.

  The guy in front of me was holding a longboard and wearing a scarf over his lumberjack style shirt. Combined with his glasses, his beard made it look like he went to a stylist and asked for “that hipster look.”

  Behind us were two girls with rolled up yoga mats on their backs, currently arguing whether almond milk or coconut milk had the smaller carbon footprint. Not a topic I had given much thought to before, but they clearly had. It had escalated into a heated argument about a minute ago, when they brought up wages and living conditions of the farmworkers who harvested the plants.

  “Are you all right? You seem a little… skittish.”

  I looked at Octavian standing next to me, still in his Crimson Fang suit. Strangely enough, he didn’t stick out as much as I did, or at least he didn’t get as many strange looks as me. Although he did get quite a few glances, mostly from the girls.

  “Yeah, I’m just… I haven’t really been in a Starbucks before,” I replied.

  “Never?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “It�
�s not exactly my crowd. And I have a coffee machine at home, so why bother?”

  “Oh, you’re in for a treat.” A slight smile played around his lips as he looked at me, but then it disappeared again quickly as his expression turned distant again. He still wasn’t over what happened.

  I smiled awkwardly and shrugged, not knowing what to say. I had taken my leather jacket off when we entered the shop, so I would blend in a little better. I felt vulnerable without it, out of my element. Now with his cold attitude, I was even more uncomfortable than before.

  I had hoped he wasn’t the betrayer that I feared he might be. And I was glad I had been right. He had nothing to do with any of the attacks. But now that I could trust him again, I also felt a strange feeling of longing, like I hadn’t even realized that I had missed him until now. I watched him as he took three steps forward after the hipster finally finished his order.

  “Two pumpkin spice lattes to go, please,” he stated, smiling at the barista.

  She smiled back and played with her hair. “Do you want anything else, Mister…?”

  “James,” he replied. “And no, that will be all.”

  “Sure,” she replied briefly, pressed something on the register, then looked up at him with a smirk on playing around her lips. “We have some great snacks, though. I can show you later tonight if you want to get some.”

  Octavian swiped his card, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I ate already.”

  She gave him a confused look for a moment, then pursed her lips in disappointment. Not noticing, he gestured for me to follow him as he moved ahead to where the hipster and some others were waiting. Behind us, the two girls finally got around to ordering, both having decided on coconut milk. But they had to repeat their order twice, as the pretty barista was still staring at Octavian. She shot me an angry glance before turning back to her customers.

  “You do realize she was flirting with you, right?” I whispered.

  Octavian looked at me in surprise. “No she wasn’t.”

  I laughed quietly. “You’re cute.”

  I froze for a moment as the words left my lips. That was not what I had meant to say. I didn’t know how I kept making a fool out of myself around him, why I acted without thinking, and why it almost satisfied me when the barista glared at me, like Octavian was mine.