Summer of Crows

by Hans Cummings

  Did you finally go mad or is this something else? What have you gotten into?

  After a few minutes, he stirred. Groaning, Koloman squirmed on the bed until his feet hung over the side. Sitting up, his eyes rolled back in his head. Then, he fell forward until his head hung between his legs. Aveline reached for her keys in case he collapsed.

  Panting, Koloman forced himself to his feet. He lurched around the cramped cell, grunting. Holding out his hands, he felt for the walls.

  “Koloman? Can you see? Do you know where you are?”

  At the sound of Aveline’s voice, Koloman snapped his head toward her and seemed to stare directly at her. A cloudy film cleared from his eyes. “Ah, the Lady Knight. We meet again.”

  Again? “Who are you? What have you done with Lord Mayor Koloman?”

  Leaning his head to the side, he popped the bones of his neck, smiling. “I am Koloman. The Lord Mayor. Release me.”

  Drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with his sleeve, licking his lips. Extending his arms in the knight-captain’s direction, he lurched toward the cell door.

  Aveline stepped backward, beyond his reach. “You killed two people. You must stand trial.”

  He scoffed, gagging. “They were unimportant. Impure. Unworthy.” He swallowed.

  “One was your manservant, Alik.” Despite his affirmation, Aveline remained unconvinced she spoke to Koloman. “Do you remember him?”

  “Stodgy old bastard.” Koloman grinned. “He won’t trouble you any longer.”

  “What did you do to the woman at Danica’s Den?”

  Koloman’s eyes darted back and forth. “Ah, yes. A magnificent, though unfortunate, side effect of my manifestation.” Gasping, he covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, but I’m giving it away too soon. I still have a finger or two left of my hands.”

  Shuddering, he lurched away from the cell door, then sped into the wall. He fell backward, collapsing on the floor. Aveline approached the door, crouching to get a better look. Upon rolling over, Koloman pushed himself to his hands and knees and retched.

  “This is not my bed chamber. Where am I?”

  “You’re in jail, at the citadel.”

  Turning, he glared. “What is the meaning of this? I demand you release me at once.”

  “You bashed in Alik’s head with a crystal decanter, and you killed a woman at Danica’s Den. You’re staying here until the magistrate returns from Cliffport.”

  “What?” Koloman held onto the wall to steady himself. “I did no such thing. Release me now, and I’ll consider not having you stripped of your rank and titles.”

  Aveline raised an eyebrow. Koloman possessed no such authority over her, although he could pressure the city council into punishing her in such a manner. “We have witnesses.”

  “Release me!” He lunged forward, grabbing the bars. Aveline again stepped backward.

  “If you’re going to be belligerent and rude, I’ll just leave you alone. I’ll send a guard down with food—if you can remain conscious that long.”

  “How dare you!” Koloman trembled in fury.

  Aveline turned her back on him. The Lord Mayor ranted, swearing as she exited. She paused when she reached Niko at the door. “If he keeps this up, feel free to move to the other side of the door and keep it shut. No one needs to hear all that. Feed him on a regular schedule. I’ll check the roster to see who’s scheduled to relieve you in the morning, then let you know.”

  Niko saluted. “Yes, m’lady.”

  Even at her desk in the vestibule, Aveline heard Koloman screaming to be released. Despite her annoyance, his perseverance impressed her, but she hoped his voice would give out before long. Fortunately, several floors of archives and abandoned city offices dampened the sound between the cellblock and her quarters. She returned to her quarters confident Niko could handle things downstairs.

  Her cot in the citadel proved less comfortable than her bed at home. Sleep came first in short, fitful visitations before exhaustion set in and she finally succumbed for the night.

  * * *

  After only one attempt, Tasha knew she would never get Torben into the safety of her hut alone. She dug her toes into the mossy earth. Closing her eyes, she opened her mind to Gaia. His life-force faded as his blood soaked the dirt. She focused on the flora, the forest floor, and the surrounding trees.

  Vines pushed upward underneath Torben, wrapping around him and carrying him into the air as they grew. She moved forward, keeping him in her mind as she ascended the stairs. The vines took Torben through the doorway. Tasha directed them to withdraw after they placed him on her bed. By the time she reached the entrance to her hut, the vines had retracted. Torben flailed, groaning. Catching his arms, she held fast.

  “It’s all right, Torben. It’s Tasha. It’s going to be all right.”

  Upon unbuckling his belt, she noticed both of his axes, as well as the ornate dagger and sword, were missing. She removed his shirt, then tore what remained into strips for bandages. The gouges in his chest welled with blood, and several clusters of puncture wounds marred his upper arms. Blood also covered his breeches, although they appeared intact. After unbuttoning and removing them, she tossed them aside.

  Apart from minor bruises, his legs appeared uninjured. Tasha pressed the makeshift bandages into the worst of his wounds. After, she rinsed her hands in the basin and searched through the apothecary cabinet for something to staunch the bleeding. She found some yarrow, then mashed it into a poultice. Upon choosing a plain linen shift from her wardrobe from which she would make additional dressings, she approached the bed.

  When she finished, Torben’s upper torso resembled that of one wrapped for burial. She draped a blanket over his legs, then moved a chair so she could sit at his bedside. His body burned with fever; Tasha didn’t need to touch his skin to feel how hot it had become since she began ministering to his wounds.

  She glanced at Revan and Korbin, who had not moved from their perch in the window since the excitement began. Huddling together, they slept. Choosing not to disturb them, she stood over the basin. The blood had cleared away through some power of the hut; she had neglected to consider how she’d clean it when she first washed her hands.

  Using the basin, she viewed the forest, starting with the spot below the hut where Torben collapsed. She followed the trail of blood, the inherent power of life contained within it beaconing her way.

  Tasha found one axe, bloodied, near a bramble bush. She located the other embedded in a tree nearby. Of the ornate dagger, she saw no sign. Finding more blood and entrails in an area with trampled vegetation, she determined it as the site of a struggle. She followed the clear trail of blood and offal leading away from the site until she came to a carcass. It might have been a deer, but, because it lay in such a dismembered state, she couldn’t be certain.

  A groan from her bed broke her connection. She returned to Torben’s side. Fluttering open, his eyes darted around the room without focusing.

  Tasha took his hand. “Torben, can you hear me? You’re safe now. You’re in my home. Torben?”

  “When I saw your hut, I thought I was dreaming.” He leaned back. “I did not dare to hope it was real.”

  “It’s real. I’ve bandaged your wounds.” She squeezed his hand. “I need to know what attacked you, Torben. Was it a bear?”

  He shook his head, licking his lips. “No, no.” He croaked unformed words, his body wracked by coughing.

  Tasha released his hand to retrieve a goblet from the cupboard. Upon filling it from the basin, she held it for him to drink. “Take it easy.”

  “It was… the biggest wolf I ever saw. It was feeding. I should have run, but it was so fast.”

  “A wolf did this?” Tasha glanced toward the window. Although she viewed neither of the moons from this angle, she surmised, based on the amount of illumination, the Queen was full. “Are you sure it was just a wolf?”

  Torben swallowed, opening his eyes. “I think… it
was not just a wolf. A werewo…”

  He lapsed into unconsciousness. Tasha cursed. Since there’d been no recent reports of disturbances, she’d hoped she had driven away the werewolf she encountered a few weeks earlier.

  Picking through the drawers of the apothecary cabinet, she made several tea sachets. If Torben awoke again, and he had, indeed, been attacked by a werewolf, he faced two choices: attempt to control the beast within with Tasha’s help or die, whether by his own hand or another’s. She understood herb lore enough to know which ones would help him gain control of his beast. By her reckoning, the next full moon, a full King, would come in eight days, the day after Remembrance.

  After making the tea sachets, she assembled the ingredients for another concoction, a wolfsbane poison. Torben had eight days to decide what he would do, but she did not intend to allow the werewolf that attacked him to run free that long.

  When she finished, she locked away the poison in her cabinet. Torben slept curled up on one side of the bed. He lay trembling, soft whimpers escaping between ragged breaths. Tasha slid into bed alongside him, pulling up the covers. Draping an arm over him, she stroked his hair, reassuring him until he quieted. She dozed off and on until, finally, sleep came for her as well.

  Chapter 56

  “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions for what to do about Koloman?” Aveline sat at her desk, oiling her chainmail.

  Lieutenant Valon stoked the fire in the stove. He shook his head. “No idea. He’s gone mad.”

  While awake, Koloman spent half his time taunting whoever could hear him in the calm voice of one who expected to exact revenge and the other raving like an inconvenienced noble. So it went throughout the night, according to Niko. Anton now guarded the cellblock, taking advantage of a period when Koloman lay quiet to switch out the chamber pot in his cell and remove the tray of half-eaten food.

  “I think it’s more than that.” Aveline hoped Tasha would deign to come by soon. The knight-captain disliked not being able to stop by her shop when she wanted to talk, a disadvantage that accompanied her friend’s new status.

  Remaining members of the city watch, checking in, stopped by before beginning their daily duties. Aveline addressed them before they resumed their patrols. “Valon, make a shift rotation for cellblock duty. I don’t want anyone spending more than a few hours in there with him. We’ll do fewer patrols around town if we have to.”

  One of the constables grimaced. “I was hoping for gate duty today. Another dwarf caravan is coming.”

  Aveline glanced up. “From Dwegerthon?”

  “Aye, supposed to arrive this morning.”

  She collected her armor. “I’ll go to the gate myself. Valon, you can handle things here, yes?”

  “Of course, m’lady. There’ll be no trouble.”

  Aveline ducked into the armory to don her armor. She adjusted her tunic over it before returning to the vestibule to retrieve her mace and shield. Yelling from within the cellblock informed everyone Koloman had awakened.

  Aveline wished them luck before leaving the citadel. She hoped Dwennon led the caravan from Dwegerthon. So much happened since the last time her dwarf friend visited, and she wanted an update on goings-on in the mountains.

  She reached Miners’ Gate ahead of the caravan. Fluffy clouds cast shadows, moving over the mountains to the south. Aveline busied herself with an inspection of the gatehouse. She whiled away the morning, engaging in small talk and helping the constables check over incoming travelers to Curton. As the sun moved across the sky, the light morning breeze gave way to a stiff wind, bringing with it scattered clouds. Near midday, the caravan finally appeared around the bend at the far end of the road. She recognized the Stonehelm banner before she could identify individual dwarves, but she saw her friend Dwennon leading the column.

  Raising her hand in greeting, Aveline strode to meet him. The dwarf spread his arm, noticing her approach. “Ah, lass! Always nice to receive a personal greeting when coming to town.”

  Dwennon wrapped his arms around her before she had a chance to kneel, digging the front of his helmet into her stomach. Grunting, she appreciated the protection of her armor.

  “Give me some good news, Dwennon.” She directed him to step to the side of the road so the caravan could pass. “The mud’s gotten deeper around here, and I’m floundering.”

  “Well, lass, lots of news. Nothing that concerns Curton, though.”

  Aveline fought the frown threatening to replace her smile. “I notice you didn’t say it was good news.”

  He ran his fingers through his beard. “Oh, here’s something. We scouted a few empty oroq villages while traveling east along the mountains before crossing the pass. Not bodies, just nothing. It was like they all packed up and moved.”

  “I hear they’re heading west, a great crusade to find Ankor.”

  “For them to empty out entire villages, they must really think they found it this time.” Removing his helmet, Dwennon plopped on a nearby boulder. “I suppose I should be thankful they left without harassing our surface villages.”

  Aveline crossed her arms, smirking at Dwennon. “You almost sound sad they left.”

  “Well, we like a good fight, don’t we? Oroqs put up a good one.”

  “Well, we’ve got a new drak clan taking up one of our mines, the Icescale clan from the south, no less. We collapsed part of that same mine on top of a chaos rift too. The Lord Mayor has lost his mind—it may not be related to what happened in the mine. My best friend is the new Crow Queen. Princess Valene has finally sent someone from Almeria to take over Dawnwatch, which is now inhabited by a dryad, by the way.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m sure I’m leaving something out.”

  Disappearing beneath his shaggy hair, Dwennon’s eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you have time to come out here to talk. We’re just here to trade, lass.”

  “I’m sorry, Dwennon.” Slumping, Aveline sighed. “My burdens are not yours. I’m just coming up short on sources of wisdom right now. Know anything about the Crow Queen or chaos rifts?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, lass, nothing about those. You said those draks had white scales, eh? Might be the refugees we saw last time we came up here. How have they been?”

  “I assumed they were. They’ve been keeping to themselves, mostly. I haven’t heard anything since I returned from the mine.”

  Dwennon tugged on his beard. “Do you reckon they’d be up for some trading? I could send a couple of carts out that way.”

  “I don’t see why not. Honestly, I expected them to visit Curton by now for supplies. There’s not much out there.” Aveline described the best route to the mine.

  When she finished, he stood. “Thanks, lass. I’d better catch up with them before they make some bad deal. See you tonight at Hon’s Hearth?”

  “If I can get away, I’ll be there.” Upon bidding her friend a good day, Aveline crossed town to check on the goings-on at Mudders’ Gate. Upon confirming all was well, she embarked on a patrol around town, hoping Tasha would make contact by the end of the day.

  * * *

  Tasha awoke to a bright summer morning. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the hut, bathing the interior with a warm glow. Beside her, Torben still slumbered, although he no longer shivered. She changed his soiled bandages, cleansing his wounds, before going outside.

  A symphony of nature greeted her as she strolled through the clearing, sounds of the forest filling the air around the hut. The mossy earth, still in the shade, felt cool beneath her feet. Connecting physically with the world each day helped center her; yet, finding the time to actually do it seemed a challenge of late.

  Flying past her, Revan landed near the base of a tree and pecked the area, searching for something to eat. Korbin dove from the canopy into the clearing, circling her head before alighting on her shoulder. She stroked the crow’s breast before sending him to the window of the hut to keep an eye on Torben. Uninterrupted rest would do the man good, but Tasha hoped he hadn�
��t lost too much blood. If he had indeed contracted lycanthropy from his unfortunate encounter, the affliction might be the only reason he survived the night.

  Tasha noticed a silence descend upon the forest. Not even the buzzing of insects could be heard. Through her connection with Gaia, Tasha felt a familiar presence entering the clearing a moment before she heard the rustling of branches. Steeling herself, she turned.

  A woman wearing loose animal skins strode into the clearing. Her hair hung in a tangled mass of knots. She carried a bow in her hand with a quiver slung over her shoulder. Stopping in a shaft of sunlight, she regarded Tasha with honey-colored eyes.

  “Know I am not your enemy, Crow Queen. My name is Vasilisa.”

  Tasha remembered the name from her conversation with Mother Anya. “The huntress. You know who I am, but we have never met. Yet, you seem familiar to me.”

  “You have seen me”—her eyes scanned the forest, seemingly searching for prey—“by the river.” She swayed. “Hunting. Feeding.”

  Tasha stepped toward the stairs leading to her hut, careful to keep Vasilisa in front of her. “You’re the werewolf I’ve seen. Did you attack Torben?”

  “I am. Your friend stumbled upon me while I was feeding. I stay away from Curton so that doesn’t happen. I control the beast, but when I feed”—glancing over her shoulder, she stared at Revan sitting on a nearby branch—“well, wild animals defend their kills, do they not?”

  Tasha wished for the poison locked in her apothecary cabinet, even though she possessed no way to administer it. “What do you want?”

  “Did he die?” Turning her head, she stared at Tasha with unblinking eyes.

  “No, but he lost a lot of blood.” She pulled her cloak closed around herself. “He may not make it through the day.”

  “He will.” Vasilisa squatted, placing her bow on the grass. “And he will change at the next full moon. Spare him the curse. I can end his suffering before it begins.”

  Tasha clenched her jaw. “You’re responsible for his condition.”

  Vasilisa lowered her head. “I am. It was not intentional. Do you require assistance killing him now?”