Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (15 page)

Raven frowned and strode to the armour stacked nearby. “Who has not?” She gathered up the chestpiece, greaves and high boots. The first time Cole had seen the armour in daylight, he realised it wasn’t black at all, merely shades of dark brown and charcoal, reinforced here and there with woven metal rings. Only her cloak was black, matching her hair. “There are only two types of people in the world; those that don’t know how to fight, and those that mourn them.”

“I would like to learn, if you would teach me.”

Raven regarded him coolly. Finally, she tossed him back one of the short blades. “Have you ever wielded a sword?”

“Once or twice,” replied Cole, swishing it experimentally through the air a few times. “The second time I was even holding the right end.”

She laughed. It was probably the first time he had heard that sound, Cole realised. Her laughter was surprisingly high and melodic. “It’s a start, at least.”

Raven began to walk around the tree trunks, gazing up at the branches. He watched her, standing uncertainly with the sword. “What should I do?” he asked.

She found what she was looking for, and patted a thick branch just above her head. “Take off your boots,” she said.

*      *      *

“Tip your head back, like that, and press down here.”

It was later, back at the camp. Raven had helped Cole into a sitting position on the ground, and offered him a handful of rags to help stem the flow of blood that gushed from his nose.

“Dank you,” he replied, trying to smile through the hot, burning pain in the middle of his face.

The fight had gone about as well as could be expected. Which is to say, not well at all. However, judging from his – admittedly limited – time in her company, Cole appeared to be in the small select group of people that had met Raven and lived. He decided to take some measure of comfort from that fact.

It had begun simply enough. With almost feline agility, Raven had swung herself up onto the branch she’d found. It was nearer to the ground than the bough he had seen her train on earlier, and thicker too. It looked far easier for someone less skilled to balance on. In turn, he removed his boots and clambered up to join her. Their swords they left leaning against the trunk.

“First, find your balance,” she told him.

Cole nodded. Cautiously, he took his arms from the trunk and held them out to either side. His toes gripped the rough bark beneath his feet. He gently shifted his weight minutely to one side, and then the other, his arms beginning to wobble. Gradually, he found his equilibrium and grinned at Raven.

“Good,” she said. “Now, try to knock me off.”

Cole’s grin trickled from his face. Tentatively, he shuffled towards her, trying to keep from falling off. He could feel the branch bouncing slightly under his weight, and hoped it would be able to support them both. It felt solid enough.

When he was within a foot of Raven, he swung an arm timidly towards her shoulder. She leaned away from it easily. He tried again, towards her midriff this time, fighting to keep his balance as he did so. She dodged nimbly backwards.

He watched her easy movements with admiration. While his own clumsy motions made the branch feel as thin as a twig, Raven may as well have been standing on the ground for all the discomfort she displayed.

The next few minutes continued in much the same vein. As he grew more confident in his own balance, his swipes and pushes became stronger and more frequent, but it made no difference. Wherever he aimed, Raven ably danced aside. Once, he had even struck out with a foot, which very nearly sent him plummeting to the ground, and she jumped over it, landing back on the branch with perfect poise. It was like fighting mist.

“Not bad,” she said at last, motioning for him to stop. “I thought you’d land on your skull the moment you stopped clinging to the trunk like a frightened baby squirrel, but you kept your feet well.”

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” Cole replied with a smile.

“Oh?” With a mischievous look, Raven reached up into the foliage above her head. She broke off a couple of sticks, and handed one to him. “See if this is any easier.”

They sparred. Cole almost felt that he was once more at the Crag, facing off against Eirik or one of the other novices on the training square. Raven seemed little interested in getting in hits of her own, instead being content to block his strikes as easily as she had evaded them moments before.

“I thought you said you had not fought before,” she said, effortlessly turning aside a backhand.

“I said I had not fought with a sword,” he replied, attempting a thrust that she jumped back out of the range of. “I
have
trained with a staff.”

Raven snorted dismissively. “Little call for that in the wilds,” she said, suddenly jabbing him in the ribs and catching him completely off-guard.

He fought to regain his balance, twirling his arms in circles as Raven looked on bemusedly. “True enough,” he said with a grin, as he straightened. “Although I seem to remember I used a stick to knock down that bandit when I saved you.”

“I was in control of the situation.” Raven smiled. “Anyway,” she continued. “If you have trained with staves then you are used to blocking blows?” Cole nodded. “If you try that with a sword, you’re like to end up holding a broken hilt with your opponent’s steel through your belly the first time you fight.”

Cole frowned. “Then how do I defend myself?”

“Avoid his blows. Watch. Observe. Anticipate his attacks, and evade them. If you have a shield, use it. Not just to block, but to bash, knock him off-balance. Then, when he is overwhelmed, strike. A fight isn’t an exercise, the aim isn’t to learn technique, but to win. In the quickest, easiest way possible. Aim for the neck and groin; an accurate cut there will end the fight instantly. Fight dirty. A clever fighter uses not just their blade, but their feet, knees, fists and teeth. Whatever gives them an edge.”

Cole wavered, uncertain. “That doesn’t sound very honourable.”

“Better an ignoble survivor than an honourable corpse,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Now, this time, try to avoid my strikes. I’ll start slowly.”

True to her word, Raven aimed a series of sluggish strikes toward him, and he tried his best to weave aside. Even though each one was clearly telegraphed, it was remarkably difficult to dodge and remain standing on the branch.

After one strike that grazed his shoulder as he turned to one side, he caught a glint of gold from the corner of his eye. As Raven twisted, the object fell from her armour. The locket. Instinctively, Cole lunged forward and caught it before it dropped into the undergrowth below. As he did so, his nose exploded in pain, and he felt himself falling. He had just enough time to see Raven’s shocked expression, her fist still clenched from the blow, before he landed on his back in a billow of dead leaves.

It had been an inelegant end to the training. Sitting on the ground back at the camp, the sharp pain had already receded, to be replaced by a dull throb.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” said Raven, casting a critical eye over his nose. “It will hurt for a time, though.”

He cut such a miserable figure, huddled on the ground, head tipped back and clutching a handful of grey rags to his face, that Raven couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” he asked, adopting an injured tone.

“It’s nothing,” she said, still smiling. “I just thought back to my first lessons. The rags were red, but otherwise it was more or less the same.”

“How old were you?” Cole asked.

“Six or seven.” Her smile faded. “It was a long time ago.”

She readied their mounts while Cole nursed his bruised face, and then with no further ceremony they were back on their way.

“Thank you,” Raven said, as they once more steered the horses through the forest.

“For what?”

“For catching it before it could fall. It is a small thing, and easily lost.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” replied Cole gingerly touching his swollen nose. “I must admit I didn’t expect it to be quite that painful.”

Raven eyes were downcast and solemn. On anyone else he would have taken it for embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realise what was happening. When you moved, I just... reacted.”

“Apology accepted,” Cole said, as gallantly as it was possible to be with a rolled up rag plugging one nostril. “The least you can do is tell me what it is, finally.”

Raven didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring off into the distance. “We should reach Hunter’s Watch by morning,” she said quietly. “Our detour is not a great one.” And that ended the matter.

The sun was directly above them when they finally emerged from the forest. Cole was relieved. The five days he had spent traipsing through the trees had seemed like an eternity. Beyond the forest, wide open scrubland stretched out in front of them, climbing steadily towards the northern coastline over a day’s ride away. A strong wind blew across them, and Cole shivered. It would still be autumn a little while longer, but already the air held the promise of the frost and snows to come.

“How much farther?” he asked, as Raven pulled her horse up to survey the landscape.

Raven shrugged. “Half a day, if the weather holds. We won’t be delayed for long, and then we will journey straight on to Hunter’s Watch.”

The thought of reaching the end of their journey together made him a little sad, much to his surprise. “What will you do then?”

She looked at him curiously. “I’ll move on, in time. East, perhaps, or to the Imperial heartlands.”

“So, is that what you do, travel the Empire, cutting down bandits and dancing around in trees?”

She smiled. “Sometimes. But that isn’t why I travel.”

“Why then?”

“I’m looking for someone. Two people, actually.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like to be in their boots,” said Cole, grinning. “I’ve seen what happens to the people you go looking for. What did they do, steal more ugly jewellery?”

Raven’s face flushed with anger, and for a moment he thought she would strike him. His smile died on his lips as those cold eyes burned into his own like ice. Then, the rage passed. “You have no idea of what you speak,” she said, her voice cold. With that, she dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and they took off north across the heath. Cole spurred on his own mount, dismayed by her reaction to a foolish jape.

For much of the rest of the afternoon, Raven and her mount were little more than specks in the distance. She had slowed down enough for him to follow, but no matter how much he quickened his own pace, he never seemed to get any closer. Clearly, she did not desire his company.

Not that Cole could ride particularly fast. Away from the forest, the ground beneath his mare’s hooves had quickly turned rugged. The higher they climbed, the rockier the ground became, and more than once he felt the horse stumble. It was a bleak place. The terrain was sparsely populated with clumps of gorse and bracken, with nothing to shield them from the chill wind.

As evening began to approach, the sun far to his left, Raven disappeared from sight altogether over the top of a ridge. Alarmed, Cole spurred his mare on, and crossed it at nearly a canter a minute later.

Raven sat on top of her black mount near the crest of the ridge. Cole reined his horse in beside her. Away to the east, the ground fell away sharply, the lands there laid out below them like a green quilt. In the distance, he could see a collection of small buildings clustered together. Wisps of smoke rose from chimneys too small to see. Beyond the town, a grey mass of trees dominated the landscape.

“Perfect, another forest,” he observed, bitterly.

“The Spiritwood,” said Raven. While not friendly, her voice had lost its edge of frostiness. “What we have just passed through is barely a fraction of its size, and there is a lot more to be afraid of there than turning your ankle in a rabbit hole.”

“Like what?”

“If half the stories about the forest are true, then its name is justly earned,” she replied. “Pray your guide knows another way into the mountains.”

Cole pointed towards the town far below. “That’s Hunter’s Watch, I take it?”

Raven nodded. “We won’t reach it before nightfall. But you’ll be able to have a hot breakfast at the tavern tomorrow morning, if you have the coin.”

Despite their feud earlier that day, Cole felt the same sadness at the thought of parting. “We should be off then,” he said brusquely. “Is it far, this place you’re taking us to first?”

“No. Not far now.” Raven turned her horse and started off again over the ridge.

Cole followed, his mind racing as he tried to guess where she could be leading them. He didn’t believe it was a trap; she had already saved him once and, having seen her fight, he knew he would be no match for her. If she had meant to harm him, she could have done so a thousand times over already.

Less than an hour later he saw the sea. There was a wide inlet that stabbed into the northern coast like a knife wound. It was bounded on each side by high, sheer cliffs. As they rode closer, Cole noticed a small house, built almost exactly at the apex of the inlet. There were small, cultivated fields dotted around it, and a large, solitary tree standing a short distance away.