Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (24 page)

His father, who he now noticed still towered over him, as he had when he was a child, marched up and shook a ham-sized fist in his face. “This is not your home. Begone!”

Caspian trembled, but stood his ground. “I c-can’t go back, they’re all d-dead. I don’t w-want to be a-a-alone.”

The force of the slap rocked his head to one side. His cheek burned. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to them?” his father bellowed.

Caspian looked past his father to his mother and siblings by the fireplace. Slowly, his mother raised her head from her hands to stare at him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes were gone. In their place, the sockets burned with a sickly green glow. “No,” he gasped.

“See?” his father growled, as Caspian’s brothers and sister turned to face him. Like his mother, their faces were bathed in the same green glow from their eyes. It made them appear deathly ill.

His father’s ogre-sized head loomed back into his vision. “Find the black sun!” he commanded. “Go!”

Caspian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned. His mother stood behind him, her eyes burning with green fire. “It’s time, Caspian,” she said, her voice coming from a great distance. “You must tell him. The sleeper wakes.”

With that, he had woken. He was dimly aware that his sleeping brain had heard a noise, something out of place. Not the wind, nor the falling rain or the sound of the ocean. He lay still for several moments, listening.

Whatever it was had fallen silent.

Cautiously, he sat up. None of the others stirred; whatever he’d heard, it had not disturbed the sailors or their captain. Dorric was snoring, and he wondered if that is all it had been.

Then he heard it again. Or rather, felt it. A low humming noise that made the rock floor vibrate ever so slightly beneath his fingertips.

For a moment, he wondered if he was still asleep; whether he had passed from one dream to the next rather than waking. He considered prodding Jan, the nearest to him, but decided that was an unwise course of action. Besides, his mind was clear, with none of the strange-otherworldliness of dreams. Whatever the source of the noise was, it was here with them.

Later, Caspian was not sure whether it was bravery or curiosity that brought him to his feet. But whichever it was he rose cautiously from the thin blanket that was serving, poorly, as a mattress.

He turned his head from side to side in the darkness, gauging the direction of the sound. To his surprise, it seemed to be coming from the rear of the cave, where he had sat only the day before.

Carefully, he felt his way along the passage, his left hand resting lightly on the cave wall. He could feel his fingertips brushing over the round indentations he had noticed before. As he passed one, he felt a breath of cold air brush his cheek with a soft sigh, but this time he ignored it. Whatever had stirred him from sleep was more real than Jan’s story of ghostly widows.

A change in the pressure of the air in front of him told Caspian he had reached the back of the cave. He reached out a tentative hand and pressed it to the back wall. Perhaps it was the lack of sight, with his other senses compensating, but he instantly knew the rock was different to that of the walls; smoother, as if it had been carved rather than eroded by time and the elements. The vibration was stronger here also, his earlier guess proving correct.

“It began an hour past.”

At the sound of the voice, Caspian jumped like a startled cat. “W-who’s there?” he asked, backing away against the wall. When there was no reply, he squinted into the blackness, and saw the vague outline of a large figure. It was sitting so still he had at first thought it to be a part of the cave wall. “Sten?”

The figure rose from the rock it had been sitting on, and joined him. Close to, the hulking frame of the stoic Southron was unmistakable. Sten reached out a hand, and ran it across the back wall.

“There was no danger, so I let the others rest,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I kept watch.”

Apparently exhausted by the speech, the longest Caspian had heard from him during the rest of the voyage put together, he lapsed back into silence.

Caspian began feeling around the edge of the back wall, where it met the sides of the tunnel. “The rock here is different,” he said, his words greeted by a grunt of assent from the sailor. “And here, right at the edge... there is a gap of some kind.”

Sten’s arm raised, and Caspian could hear him patting at the stone above their heads. He grunted again. “Strange.”

Caspian stood back a pace. “The back wall... it is separate from the rest of the cave, I think.” He scratched his scalp, deep in thought. “Could it be a door?”

His companion made no reply, but Caspian was gently pushed back a step. Sten’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on one side of the slab, and then he was pulling. His great back rippled with the strain, and he let out a growl of effort. Caspian held his breath as he watched the show of strength.

Eventually, Sten ceased his efforts, having made no discernable difference to the back wall of the cave. “It is stuck,” he said, unnecessarily.

Just then, they heard groans from the mouth of the cave. Sten’s failed attempt to shift the back wall had evidently woken the others. Jan was cursing, and Captain Brandt’s voice called out, “Is that you, lad?”

“It’s me, captain,” Caspian called back. “I don’t know about no Lady, but there’s something strange about this cave. Bring a torch!”

Less than a minute later, the six of them were gathered at the back of the cave, the torch in Dorric’s hand casting their large shadows onto the walls of the tunnel.

This time, it was Captain Brandt’s turn to brush his hand down the rock face. “When you know what it is you’re looking for, it’s clear,” he said. “The tunnel grows smaller the deeper you go, but at the back it’s flat.” His eyes traced the outline of the wall. “Round, too.”

“Has no-one noticed this before?” Caspian asked.

“I’ve never had cause to go poking around the rear of these caves, this is just one of many along The Whispers,” Captain Brandt replied. “I doubt this wall has ever had more attention than it’s getting now from us.” He reached out, and rapped the rock with a knuckle. They all heard it.

“Hollow,” said Jan under his breath.

For a few moments they stood staring at the wall, bathed in flickering orange light from Dorric’s torch. Then, he piped up with the one question they had all been thinking. “What now, cap’n?”

Captain Brandt rubbed his beard. “Well, I don’t know about you lads, but I think we should find out what’s on the other side.”

Perhaps Sten’s first attempt had loosened it, Caspian was never sure. But after the six of them had grabbed a secure hold on the edge of the strange circular rock and heaved together, it rolled to one side with a hideous screech.

Caspian took a step back and examined the wall. It hadn’t moved much, just enough for a man to squeeze past. Beyond lay an even thicker darkness. The smell of stale air reached his nose.

Just as he was about to move towards the gap they had opened, Jan snatched the torch from Dorric’s unresisting hand, and fought his way in front. He was stopped by a large hand on his chest. “The boy found it,” a deep voice rumbled.

With a venomous glance in his direction, Jan stood aside and passed Caspian the torch. He took a deep breath.

“Are you sure, lad?” the captain asked.

Caspian nodded and, before his nerve could fail him, he stepped into the blackness. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find, but he was disappointed nonetheless.

Stretching away from him was another tunnel, as perfectly round as the door had been, tall enough for even Sten to be able to walk without having to stoop. The torch cast its light only a dozen feet, if that, and beyond its glow lay only darkness.

“What do you see?”

He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “A tunnel.”

The others squeezed their way through the portal. “A mine, perhaps,” said Captain Brandt.

“But why lock it away, why hide it from sight?” asked Nikolaj.

“P’raps there’s gold,” suggested Dorric. “Or
jools
.”

That silenced them. As they mulled over the idea of riches hidden away in the dark before them, Caspian turned to look at the door they had just passed through. He held the torch up and whistled. “Look at this,” he called to the others.

Captain Brandt came up beside him and touched the door. “Metal,” he observed. “With a mechanism of some kind. It’s warm,” he said, after touching it.

“I’m not sure how, but could be that was what was makin’ the noise that woke me and Sten,” said Caspian. Whatever it had been before, it hung limply now, lifeless. “I think we broke it.”

Something on the ground caught his eye, and he knelt down in the dirt. An object lay half-buried just behind the door, and he carefully lifted it up and blew sand from it. Several long, thin strips of metal were banded together, while in the centre two ridged circles of the same metal dangled loosely.

“What is it?” the captain asked.

Caspian turned the object around in his hand. It was at the same time both entirely alien yet strangely familiar. “I think... it’s a finger,” he said finally.

“A finger? From what? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Caspian slipped the object into a pocket, and stood. “I have,” he said, “and only about a week ago.” He glanced ahead into the darkness, still nothing visible but the walls of the tunnel. “I don’t know what lies ahead, but I don’t think it’s gold or jewels.”

Dorric repeated his earlier question. “So what do we do now?”

Captain Brandt caught Caspian’s eye. Having spoken to him about the Archon’s manservant after they’d met at the Crag, he knew the significance of his find. There was really only one choice. “We go on,” the captain said. “We’ll be waiting a day or two yet to make sure the storm has passed, that’s enough time to poke our noses up here and satisfy our curiosity.”

It was decided that Nikolaj and Dorric would remain on the beach, to watch the ship and get her ready to sail two days hence. The rest would investigate the tunnel that lay beyond the strange metal door. They went back to their makeshift camp to collect their weapons and as many supplies as they could carry.

“I wonder how far it goes,” said Caspian, as they squeezed back through the portal.

“No way of knowing, lad,” the captain replied. “It looks as though it heads straight out of the bay towards the Pass. Could be it leads all the way into the mountains. Why don’t we find out?”

Captain Brandt strode ahead, becoming a floating island of light as he carried his torch along the tunnel. Caspian stopped in his tracks, suddenly nervous. Sten pushed past, followed by Jan.

“Not scared are we?” the young sailor said, with an oily grin. “At least you know one thing for sure.”

Caspian shuddered. “What’s that?”

“The Lady never made it this far.” With a chuckle, Jan continued past after his two crewmates.

A moment later, Caspian ran after them.

CHAPTER 11

“
I
t watches you, does it not?”

Harri’s words snapped Cole out of his trance. As they had begun riding around the northern edge of the forest, his eyes had been drawn to the trees. Less than half a mile away, he could make out the individual trunks, the dark branches clawing at the sky like gnarled, skeletal fingers. The sight of it filled him with foreboding, and Cole realised he did indeed feel the weight of eyes upon him.

“Before we arrived at Hunter’s Watch, I looked down upon the forest from the cliffs, and it looked much like any other,” he said. “But up close...” He shivered. “The air here is colder.”

“Winter is only just upon us, but in these lands you would scarce realise,” the young hunter agreed. “The Ice Fens were aptly named, as there are not many months of the year you would not find a frost upon the surface of the mire. We are almost at the northernmost reaches of all Callador, which no doubt accounts for the climate.” His steely grey eyes glanced across to the tree line, which stretched away before them as far as Cole could see. “But I have long wondered whether the wood itself adds its own chill to the air.”

It was shortly after dawn on their second day out of Hunter’s Watch. Cole’s spirits had been high following their departure; at last it felt as though he was making progress towards his destination, and he was pleased to be still in Raven’s company. Her manner towards him was still as frosty as the weather, but on several occasions he had caught her smiling faintly at some jest he had made. He remained hopeful she would thaw over time.

The night had been difficult, however. They had made camp within sight of the forest’s edge, which was bad enough, but both Harri and Raven had stubbornly refused to let him build a fire, which was intolerable.

“It’s too cold, I’ll never be able to sleep!” he’d protested. “My teeth are chattering so hard they’ll fall out.”

“No open flames,” Raven insisted. “The Moon Tower is only a few leagues south. Even if they don’t catch sight of us, there are plenty of eyes within the forest that would be drawn to the light.”

“What about supper?” Cole moaned. “Everything in my pack has probably frozen solid by now. I’ll break a tooth!”

“You seem unduly concerned about your teeth,” Harri observed. He fastened his sheathed sword to his belt, having volunteered to take the first watch. “I can promise you that yours are neither as large nor as sharp as those belonging to many of the beasts of the Spiritwood. As they would not hesitate to show you.”

Conceding defeat, Cole had rummaged through his pack, finding a spare linen undershirt and wool socks, which he pulled eagerly over the ones already on his feet. Soft leather gloves had also been packed, and a thin woollen blanket. Wrapped up in these and his cloak, the cold was at least bearable.

As he sat nibbling at his meagre supper, to any outside observers he would have appeared to be a particularly large and sullen caterpillar. By the time he had finished, forlornly licking the last crumbs from his gloved fingers, Raven was already dozing. Seeing little point in remaining awake, he lay down as well. The last thing he saw before sleep took hold of him was the silhouette of Harri standing nearby. The young hunter’s hand rested lightly on the pommel of his sword, as he stared out towards the forest.

The following morning had dawned grey but dry, which Cole was thankful for. His nose, the only part of him that had been left exposed to the elements, was as cold and numb as an icicle, but other than that the night had not been too uncomfortable. When he rose, a thin layer of frost that had settled on top of his blanket cracked.

“Will we train this morning?” he asked Raven, who was filling her pack nearby.

“We should not tarry here for too long,” said Harri behind him. “As cautious as we have been, we cannot be certain we have not been seen by the Moon Tower’s sentries.”

“It will be a long ride to reach the Fens by nightfall,” Raven added, as she stood. “Once there, we’ll be out of the sight of Moon, and there will be time to work on your skills. I fear you will have need of them.”

And so they had set out; Harri in the lead, and Raven bringing up the rear on her black stallion. Throughout the morning, Harri would often canter ahead to scout the way. At other times, he would drop back alongside Cole or Raven to share a few words.

Cole was surprised to find himself warming to the young hunter’s company. At the moot, his first real encounter with Harri, the blonde hunter had been angry and frustrated, bristling against his father’s inaction. Then, throughout their private audience with the chieftain, Harri’s simmering resentment had been palpable.

But here, in the wilds beyond Hunter’s Watch, he seemed a changed man. He remained alert and cautious, but also seemed to enjoy the brief moments of conversation. He didn’t smile often, but when he did it was a broad grin that split his features. He was not without humour, either, though his wit was of the dry kind; often Cole could not tell whether the hunter was being serious or jesting with him.

At one time, they stopped at a small stream to refill their water skins, when Cole spotted a small brown duck half-hidden in a patch of tall reeds. As it peeped out, Cole noticed that the feathers on the top of its head stood straight and tapered to a point, giving it the appearance of a small horn.

“I didn’t realise there were unicorns in these parts,” he observed to his companions with a laugh.

“Cole, stay absolutely still,” said Harri urgently.

“What? Why?” he asked, confused.             

“What you’re looking at is the deadliest creature in the whole of the north.”

“It is?” The colour drained from Cole’s face. He looked back at the patch of reeds, where the glittering of the bird’s dark eyes seemed to have taken on a certain malevolence. “A duck?”

“That’s a bog duck,” said Harri, who had inched closer to crouch beside him. “They’re a rare enough sight in the mire, and I had not expected to see one this far south. The point on its head is tipped with a venom most foul, just one scratch and all that is left to you is an agonising death.”

Cole glanced at the hunter suspiciously, but his face was grim, his grey eyes focused unblinking on the reeds. Without moving, Cole tensed his muscles, ready to spring away at any movement from the stream.

“It attacks thus,” Harri continued, bending his head down, with his index finger extending from his scalp. “When your attention is elsewhere, it charges.” He shook his head sadly. “We lose a hunter this way each year. The last thing you feel is a scratch above the ankle, then it’s over.”

“They die quickly?” Cole asked worriedly.

“Most do,” Harri nodded. “The poison itself kills slowly, its victims left to writhe in pain for a day or more. Many take their own lives rather than suffer that fate, or ask their fellows to end it for them. Be ever wary of the bog duck, my friend.”

Harri patted Cole on the back and rose cautiously, returning to his horse. Cole continued to watch the reeds for a few moments, but the duck showed little inclination to charge out towards him. He looked to Raven for confirmation, but she was staring gravely at the bird. He thought he saw her frown tremble ever so slightly, but then it was gone.

“You’re no help,” he said bitterly. “I’m already heading into a haunted forest with the Legion on my heels, and now I need to be watching for deadly waterfowl, it seems.”

Raven cleared her throat. “Come,” she said. “It’s time we were off.”

Eventually, Cole decided that the hunter had been pulling his leg. All the same, for the rest of the day, he gave a wide berth to every pond and stream they passed

On one of the rare occasions he dropped back to speak to Raven, he commented on the change in Harri’s demeanour.

“He’s in his element,” she said. “At the Watch, especially as Yaegar’s son, it’s all politics. He chafes against it. Over the years, his father has grown used to the demands of leadership, which Harri has yet to do. But out here,” she indicated the open space all around them, “he can be true to what he is.”

“A hunter,” Cole replied thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I could be so relaxed in the face of such danger.”

“Danger is all around us, even more so for those who patrol the Spiritwood. But there is an honesty to it. Out here it is just you; your skill against that of your foe. All that is important is who is stronger, quicker. Life and death decided on the point of a blade. Everything else ceases to matter.”

“I think I understand,” Cole said. “There is freedom in that, of a sort.” He sighed. “I used to think that I would be free once I left the Crag – free of the Brothers’ chores and rules, but instead there is a... a weight on me. A responsibility. Even once I finish the task that Merryl gave me, I fear that will not be the end of it. Sometimes it feels as though the person I was before is gone, and the responsibility is all that remains.”

Raven looked at him oddly, and for a long time she said nothing. They rode side by side in silence. As they did whenever there was a lull, Cole’s eyes drifted to the line of trees to their right. Again, there was an uncomfortable sensation of being observed, but no matter where he looked, all he saw were smoke-grey trunks and branches.

“It can be easy to lose sight of yourself,” Raven said, breaking the silence. “When you’re young, you have plans. Things you’ll do, places you’ll go. But life has a way of making your plans for you. I don’t think any of us are ever truly free.” She gazed out towards Harri, who was trotting back towards them. “Perhaps that is why the moments where it seems that we are feel so sweet.”

There was sadness in Raven’s voice. Cole was about to ask more, when Harri pulled his mount up alongside them.

“We are approaching the edge of the Fens,” he said. “There are a few dwellings a league from here, peat miners most like. I could not see any signs of life, but I did not want to stray too much farther ahead. If all is well, it would be a good place to rest. Even so, we should remain on our guard.”

They rode on, staying closer together this time. The ground beneath them began to slope downwards; gradually at first, but more steeply the further they went. Meanwhile, the forest on their right remained on a level. Soon enough, the trees were on a rocky outcropping far above them, while they themselves continued downwards. The further they travelled, the wetter the ground became, until their horses were slopping through ankle-deep muck. Their hooves splashed brown water over the boots and legs of their riders.

“We’re grateful for any natural barrier that keeps the Spiritwood contained,” said Harri, when Cole pointed out the landscape. “A few leagues farther on, there is a two-hundred foot cliff separating us from the forest. Once we’re past the falls two days hence we will climb back up to meet it, but for now it is a welcome respite, is it not?”

“But why not just enter the forest from this side?” Cole asked. “Surely it’s easier to cross a river within the forest than climb up a cliff?”

“Are you so eager then to enter the Spiritwood and meet those that dwell there?” Harri replied with a grin. “You will understand when you see the Ymbral – the mighty river that flows down from the very mountains you’re trying to reach. Even if it didn’t flow through a gorge too perilous for even the bravest hunters to climb, its speed and power is such that you would be swept away before you had the chance to try. The only place to cross is a bridge guarded by the Dusk Tower.”

“And there is no way to sneak past? I thought you said that the Legion’s towers were barely garrisoned now.”

Harri shook his head. “The Legion is more focused on that bridge than anywhere else in the north – for that is where they take their tolls.”

Cole was appalled. “They charge people to pass through the forest?”

“Of course!” Harri laughed. “Why do you think the emperor was so keen to free the hunters of the Watch from their onerous duty of taming the Spiritwood?”

“And people pay the toll?”

“What choice do they have? The trade must flow, so the caravans must pass through the forest. They refused to pay a toll at Dawn or Moon, however. The owners of caravans about to enter the forest were unwilling to empty their pockets in case they didn’t live to see the other side, and those leaving are usually travelling too fast to stop.” He laughed again. “So, the Legion takes payments at the only bridge across the Ymbral. Easy to enforce, even with only a handful of men. If you wish to escape the Legion’s notice, the only place to cross the Ymbral is after the falls, across the fens.”

Cole remained doubtful. But Harri was right, he was not particularly eager to enter the Spiritwood at all – even though he was still not entirely clear on what dangers lay within. The look and the feel of it, even from a distance, was enough to tell him that it was a dark place. One which, if you must venture within, it was best to delay for as long as possible. Even so, he was keenly aware that, while he was making progress towards his destination, geographically at least he was still travelling away from it.

As they rode down the slope, they saw the dwellings that Harri had spotted. They appeared to be little more than a collection of small huts; low, mud walls topped by untidy thatch. Cole also noticed what the young hunter had mentioned previously: of the huts’ residents themselves, there was no sign.