Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (41 page)

Then, without warning, his foot caught on a protruding root or some other unseen obstacle, sending him plunging face-first to the ground. Harri was on him in an instant with an exultant roar. He swung his sword towards Cole, who rolled one way and then the other to dodge the strikes. Unperturbed, Harri lifted the broadsword high above his head, ready to deliver the killing blow. As it came down, Cole desperately raised his arm, and
pushed
again with his mind. This time, a steel blade appeared from nowhere in his hand. With a loud cry he was only vaguely aware of making, he used it to block the hunter’s blow and send him reeling into the undergrowth.

Cole leapt to his feet. By the time Harri re-emerged, the bloodlust still filling his eyes, Cole had dropped into the defensive stance Raven had taught him. With another bellow, Harri charged. This time, Cole was ready and easily deflected the first swing of the hunter’s sword.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, locked in battle. It felt like an eternity. Facing a flesh and blood foe seemed to have helped the berserk hunter find new reserves of energy and he fought like a demon. In a straight fight, Cole knew he could not beat Harri, either in this realm or the real world. The hunter was too strong, too skilled. Fortunately, it was not a straight fight. He didn’t wish to harm Harri, only defend himself against his onslaught, which he soon found he was just about capable of doing. The broadsword Harri wielded was a fearsome weapon, but heavy. The hunter held it in both hands, putting great power into every blow. But it was ponderous to swing, each strike telegraphed by the movement of his hips and shoulders. Thanks to his training sessions with Raven, Cole found that he could easily raise his own weapon in time to protect him, or dodge out of the way before the blow arrived.

Even so, after a time Cole began to tire. His shoulders ached from deflecting Harri’s attacks, each one like a hammer blow. Gradually, Harri’s strikes became less frequent however, and his breathing was ragged. Their fight became a race of endurance, seeing who could outlast the other.

Eventually, it was Harri who sank first to his knees, gasping for breath. With the last of his strength, he threw the broadsword aside. Sighing with relief Cole, lowered his own weapon. He was unsure how much longer he could have lasted, or what might have happened had he been the first to yield.

Harri’s head drooped towards the ground, his shoulders hunched. Cole knelt down in front of him, but the young hunter did not acknowledge his presence. On a sudden impulse, he placed his hand flat against Harri’s chest, above his heart. He tried to exert the same force he had used before the quench the flames and dissipate the shadow warriors. As he did so, he felt something leave Harri, and travel along his arm. He didn’t know what it was, but it chilled his flesh, leaving goosepimples on his skin. His arm tingled.

“Cole?” Harri lifted his head. The hunter stared at him, confused. His steel-grey eyes were calm once more. Whatever force had been driving him, possessing him with madness, had been lifted. “What are you doing here?”

Cole retracted his arm. “Raven sent me. We were attacked in the forest by soulcreeps, and you were wounded. We had no way to treat the venom, and you fell into a fever. The healer treated your wounds, but the fever wouldn’t lift. I wasn’t sure I could help, but Raven asked me to try.” The words tumbled out of him.

“Healer?” Harri scowled, trying to remember. “There was a man, on the road. He mentioned a village, did he not? So strange.” Suddenly his eyes opened wide. “Cole, there is... great... danger...” Harri’s hands flew to his head, his eyes screwed tightly shut in pain. He cried out, and fell to the ground.

“Harri, what’s wrong?” Cole reached out to the young hunter, but was pushed away. Harri began to thrash in the dirt, clutching his temples.

“Tell... Raven...”

“Tell her what?”

Harri gasped. Cole could tell that every word pained him greatly to utter. “Tell her... fair...”

“You said that before. I don’t understand.” He looked desperately around at the forest, but there was no-one to help them, not here.

Harri looked up at him with anguish in his eyes. “Fair... Laur...ren.”

Cole stared at him confused. “Lauren? We’ve met nobody of that name so far.”

“Tell... her.” Harri gave a strangled cry, and faded from sight. As he vanished, the forest began to collapse in on itself, in a tidal wave of trees and dirt. Cole did not linger, severing his link with Harri’s dream without regret, glad to be away from that place.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the healer’s room. He was squatting on the floor beside the bed, the crystal pendant still clasped in one hand. Harri lay on the mattress, unconscious. But Raven was no longer holding down his arms. The young hunter was still. “Is he...?” Cole began.

Raven shook her head. “The fever broke,” she said softly. She laid a palm on Harri’s brow. “He is cooler now. I think the danger has passed.” She looked at him, her eyes glistening. “Thank you Cole. I don’t know what it is you did, but you brought him back.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed stuffy and oppressive. “I think I need some air,” he said. With an apologetic smile, he stood and left the sick room. As he made his way to the door, the healer glanced up from his work questioningly, then started as he saw Cole’s pendant. He followed Cole with his eyes as he went to let himself out, but otherwise made no comment.

When he reached the street outside, darkness lay over the village. They had been inside the healer’s house tending to Harri for a whole day. Possibly even two. Cole had no way of knowing for sure. Time moved differently in the dream-realm, and often he felt disorientated when he returned to the real world.

He looked all around him, but there was nothing unusual about the village that he could see. There were a number of low, timber buildings. Lights burned in some of them, casting shadows onto the cobbled streets. Next to the healer’s house was a small garden. At first glance it seemed overgrown, but gradually it dawned on Cole that it was actually very well-kept, just cramped. A profusion of different herbs and plants tumbled over one another. Many had succumbed to the first frosts of winter, but a few hardier blooms remained. Some he recognised, again from the illustrated tomes collected in the Crag’s library. Medicinal herbs, mostly. There were many more, though, that he was unfamiliar with.

On the far side of the village, looming above the wooden roofs, was a much larger structure. A manor house of some kind. Unlike the homes of the villagers, its windows were dark, its features shrouded in shadow. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, gazing upon it made him feel ill at ease.

Above the village, the full moon hung high in the sky, bloated and red. “A harvest moon,” he mused.

“Too late in the year for a harvest.” He turned, and saw Raven emerging from the doorway behind him. “When I was growing up, we called it a blood moon. An ill omen, it is said.”

“By whom?”

“The superstitious, mostly.” She smiled. “The sorts of folk who see ill omens wherever they look. I came out to thank you again, Cole. Harri will recover, I believe.”

“Has he woken yet?”

“Not yet. Soon, hopefully. What was it you did, anyway?”

Cole hesitated, before deciding to tell her the truth. He told her about the burning forest, the hawkfly... even the shadowy warriors and his battle with Harri. Raven listened to it all without interrupting, her expression thoughtful. When he was finished, for a while she stayed silent. When she eventually spoke, her voice was quiet. “I still don’t understand this... ability of yours, Cole, nor why you have it.” She shifted uncomfortably and stared off into the distance, beyond the village roofs. “But what you can do, it scares me. Your power seems to be growing and I’m not sure even you know what you’re capable of.” She sighed. “I’ve tried to keep an open mind, to keep my thoughts to myself. But the truth is, I’m afraid of what you might become.”

“Become?” he echoed, grinning. “Why do I have to become anything? I’m the same person I was yesterday, and the day before that. I’ll still be the same tomorrow.”

“Perhaps.” Raven hugged her arms about herself, as a chill wind gusted suddenly. “But everyone walks a path, Cole, whether they know it or not. I wish I knew where yours leads.”

He had no response to that. He wanted to comfort her, assure her that he would not change, but he was afraid the words would sound hollow. Did he even believe it himself? It was not something he had stopped to consider before, but he was already a very different person now to the Cole that had lived a peaceful life at the Crag barely a month earlier. The thought was peculiarly disturbing.

Raven turned to go back into the healer’s house, when he suddenly remembered the young hunter’s strange message. “Wait, Harri asked me to tell you something,” he told her. “It seemed important to him, but I have no idea what it means.”

“What did he say?”

“He mentioned a woman, I think. Lauren. Fair Lauren, he called her.”

At first, Raven simply frowned as she contemplated the words. Then her eyes flew wide and she grabbed his shoulders urgently. “Are you certain?” she demanded. There was nothing soft about her voice now. “You could not be mistaken?”

“I’m certain,” he blurted, alarmed by her extreme reaction to Harri’s message. “It seemed to pain him to speak the words, but they were clear enough. Do you know who he is talking about?”

“We cannot speak of this here. If Harri is right, then we are all in grave danger.” She peered suspiciously at the houses around them. “We must assume that we are being watched.” Abruptly, she let go of his arms, and turned to go back into the healer’s house.

“Where are you going?” Cole asked, perturbed by her warning.

“I can’t leave Harri alone, not before he wakes. I will stay by his side and make sure that no harm befalls him. Hopefully by morning we will be able to leave this place.”

“What should I do?”

“Just be careful. Harri may be mistaken, or even if he is not then I am uncertain what dangers we may face. Keep your sword by your side, look around if you must. But Cole... trust no-one.” With that, she was gone, leaving Cole alone once more.

But not for long. Just as he was pondering his next move, a familiar lantern bobbed along the otherwise deserted street toward him. “Is that young master Cole, I see?” The voice that reached him was that of their guide.

“Hello,” he called back. “Emmett, isn’t it? What are you doing out this late?”

The older man chuckled as he reached him. “I could ask you the same question, young master,” he said with a grin. “I merely came by to check on your friend. You’ve all been the talk of the village today. Old Crabtree’s fair eaten up with curiosity to find out what’s going on.”

“He is recovering,” Cole told him. “He was taken with fever, but the danger seems to have passed. It was kind of you to come by.”

“Aye?” The balding man scratched thoughtfully at his mouth. “Glad to hear it, leastways. Nasty things, them soulcreeps, if they catches you alone.”

A thought occurred to Cole. “Indeed. How exactly are you able to keep them away from your village? Not to mention the other beasts of the Spiritwood.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about us’n, young master,” the man replied, with another chuckle. “Been here a long time, we have. There’s nothing in the woods that we need to concern ourselves with. We have ways of protecting what’s ours.”

“What might those be?”

The balding man’s smile faltered. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but suddenly his face cracked into a wide grin. “Say, if you have no place else to be right now, what with your friend all healed up, why don’t you come over to the tavern and share a jar with a few of the lads?” Cole looked doubtful, but misunderstanding his hesitation, the men went on, “You won’t even need to dip into your purse, if that’s what you’re worried about, young master. We’ve no use for coin in this village. Everyone pitches in together and pays for favours in kind.”

Cole thought about Raven’s warning. She seemed certain about the presence of danger here, although not about what form it might take. The man’s manner was odd, that was true, but at the same time Cole didn’t get a sense that he presented a threat. His friendliness seemed genuine enough. With a nod, Cole reached a decision. “Thank you, Emmett, a drink would be very welcome indeed.” He would keep a careful watch for any women, fair or otherwise. Perhaps he would even drop the name Lauren into conversation if the opportunity arose, to gauge the villagers’ reactions.

Emmett led him along the dusky streets, his lantern lighting their path. In its glow, Cole was able to see more details of the village. There was something strange about the buildings they passed, and after a while he realised what it was. While the wooden houses and workshops seemed solid enough, they also weren’t particularly well maintained. Patches of moss sprang from the cracks in their walls, and almost every window he passed was covered in a thick layer of grime; several even sported large cracks. While not dilapidated, everything felt tired and worn.

The same was true for the path they walked along. Weeds sprang from in between the cobblestones, while its surface was pockmarked by large holes where entire stones were missing. More than once, his foot caught in one of these, making him stumble.

His eyes were drawn to the clothes his guide was wearing. He hadn’t taken note of them after their first meeting; with Harri’s situation dire, his mind had been elsewhere. But now he saw that the garments worn by the older man were a curious reflection of the village he inhabited. Like all else around them, they had seen better days. His shirt, trousers and cloak all showed heavy signs of wear, with the latter a patchwork of different cloths that had been sewn across gaping holes. There was an odd slapping sound to his footsteps, and when he glanced at the ground, Cole saw that the heel of one of the man’s boots had come away and flapped loosely with every step.