Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (44 page)

No sooner were the joints placed on the benches than the villagers fell upon them, serving themselves with thick, pink slices hacked off with their own knives. Some did not even wait to use their cutlery, ripping ragged hunks off with their fingers. Despite his hunger, the spectacle turned Cole’s stomach.

Finally, a large gleaming platter was placed on their head table. The Baron stood, wielding a long carving knife. It looked wickedly sharp. “I trust no-one will mind if I do the honours?” When neither he nor Raven objected, he began sawing slices from the joint. Up close, there was something about the soft, pink meat that Cole found unnerving.

“Is this pork?” he asked, as the Baron placed a thick, steaming slice onto his plate. “I didn’t see any pigs outside in the village.”

“The forest provides,” the Baron replied with a grin.

As their host turned to the joint once again to carve for Raven, Cole cut a piece from his own slice and dropped it into Grume’s pouch. Almost immediately, the sounds of happy chewing began to emanate from within. Raven looked at him sharply, and silently mouthed four words: “Don’t eat the meat.”

The Baron made no sign that he had noticed. After laying another slice of meat onto Raven’s plate, he placed the carving knife onto the serving platter, and sat down. Raven eyed the long blade intently, but made no movement towards it. “Are you not eating with us, Baron?”

“Of course! What kind of host would I be if I simply sat and watched my guests eat their fill?” He snapped his fingers, and again a liveried servant appeared behind him, this time holding a covered silver dish. “It is simply that I have very... particular tastes.”

The servant placed the dish before the Baron. With a flourish, he removed the cover to reveal what lay beneath. Raven cried out. Before Cole could even react, she pulled the knife from her sleeve and flung it towards the Baron. It flew end over end, before embedding itself in the wooden chairback less than an inch from their host’s left ear. Cole could only gawp at the dish, his chin hitting his chest the moment the cover was removed. Sitting on a bed of stewed greens was a human hand, the stump bloody where it had been hacked from its wrist. One finger still wore a silver ring, bearing the bow and arrow crest of Hunter’s Watch. Harri’s ring.

The same instant the knife thudded into the wood, the Baron flung up an arm and traced a complex shape in the air with one finger. A second later, Cole felt his arms pinned to his sides. He fought against the invisible force, but it easily overpowered him. Evidently Raven had been affected by the same enchantment, as she struggled vainly opposite him. Whatever sorcery the Baron had used to hold them, it had not affected her mouth, however. She was screaming obscenities at him. “You son of a bitch! What have you done to him?”

“Now, now,” the Baron chided her. “There’s no call for language like that. It is not proper for a guest to insult their host.” He grinned savagely, and this time there was no doubting it. The canines in particular were markedly longer than they had been before, and sharpened to wicked points. “I can reassure you, you will be reunited with your hunter friend before long. Yes,” he added, seeing her startled expression, “I am fully aware of what he is. And who he is.” He tapped the silver ring with a fingertip, the nail of which was now curved like a claw.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed. “The last thing you see will be my face as I cut out your heart. I swear it.”

The Baron looked momentarily taken aback. Then his expression of surprise was replaced by an arrogant sneer. “That would be quite some trick,
hatabi
, one almost worth seeing. However, I would prefer to eat my supper in peace now, I think.” With that, he traced another shape in the air, and Raven’s jaw shut with a snap. He held her venomous gaze as he reached out and plucked the severed hand from the dish. With a sharp jerk, he snapped off a finger, much as one would break off a leg from a boiled crab, and popped it into his mouth.

Cole still sat in shock at the sudden turn of events. He was shaken from his reverie, however, by the sound of munching from the pouch beside him. “Grume,” he hissed down. “Stop eating that! It’s people!”

The boggit’s hairy head emerged to glare at him, his cheeks full. “So?” he demanded. “What does I care? I ain’t ‘ooman.” With a truculent shrug, the little creature disappeared back inside the pouch. The chewing noises resumed, and Cole felt the gorge rise in his throat.

He cast desperate looks down towards the assembled villagers, but the Baron laughed. “I wouldn’t waste your hopes on them, my friend. They are mine completely, you see.” He raised his hand again, and snapped his fingers. This time, one of the drab-clothed figures below the dais climbed unsteadily from their seat. Cole’s heart sank. It was Emmett, the guide who had brought them to the village in the first place and then befriended him. With a rictus grin plastered across his face, the little balding man began to dance an awkward jig. Without any musical accompaniment, he bobbed and hopped on the spot, capering like a fool. Finally, he skipped forwards into a somersault, clambered back to his feet and then dealt himself a vicious slap to the face so hard the sound of it echoed around the hall like the crack of a whip.

“Thank you, Emmett, you may reseat yourself.” The Baron snapped his fingers again and the balding man half-collapsed on the spot, before dragging himself gratefully back to his place on the bench. One of his cheeks glowed red.

Cole shook his head slowly. “No man wields the power to enslave an entire village. There is not enough magic in the world.”

“Magic?” The Baron tipped back his head and laughed, just as he had the first time Cole had met him. This time the sound of it was chilling. “There’s no magic here. Oh,” he said, gesturing airily at Cole and Raven, “I picked up a few parlour tricks here and there in my travels. But the real power lies elsewhere.”

“The crystals.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but Cole was suddenly acutely aware of his pendant resting against his chest. It was as if the stone had become heavier.

The Baron’s eyes glittered. “The very same.” He produced a green stone from a pocket of his coat, and held it up to his eye. “Such beauty. In a thousand years I had never seen their like. Then one day, as I roamed the forest, I came upon an old man pulling a handcart. A monk of some kind. Among his possessions, his clothes and books, he had hundreds of these little stones.” The Baron paused. “Ah, but it is bad manners for the host to carry on so. Surely my story of how I came to be here is of no interest to you, esteemed guests.”

“On the contrary, I think it would be very illuminating.” It was a vague hope, he knew, but Cole thought that if he could keep his host talking, then a way out of their current situation may present itself to them.

“Such a pleasant boy,” the Baron purred. “One of you at least is well-mannered.” Raven shot another furious glare in his direction, as he snapped off another finger and crunched the bone thoughtfully. “Well, it all began that day in the forest, as I said,” he began. “I had chosen a pleasing form that day and the monk showed me them happily, telling me of his beliefs and of a new religion of some kind that was reshaping the world. Honestly, I quickly grew tired of his words and had already decided his fate, but when he showed me the stones, my eyes widened. A plan took seed then in my mind, as he told me of his mission to visit this village.”

“What did you do?” Cole asked, with mounting horror.

“I slew him where he stood, naturally,” the Baron replied matter-of-factly. There was a faraway, wistful look in his eyes, as though he was recalling fond memories. “But rather than continue on my way as I had first planned, I instead took on his form. I found this place without difficulty, for it had served as a home of mine for years beyond count. It had been many moons since I had lived here last, but I knew it still. Imagine my surprise when I returned and found humans living on my doorstep! I could scarcely hide my amusement as I came among them as an old man, pulling a handcart of itchy clothes and promises of redemption. They welcomed me with open arms, can you believe it?” He chuckled, and absently broke off another finger from the severed hand he still held. Cole’s stomach rolled at the crunching sounds as he chewed. “For a year I lived among them, learning their ways. Hanging my pretty baubles around their necks. When I announced I was to leave, the mayor invited me here, the place that had been my home for centuries, and had me for dinner.” The Baron swallowed, then grinned slyly. “It was only polite that I should return the favour.”

Cole frowned. “I don’t understand, why would the villagers follow you after you killed their mayor. Why did you even come here in the first place?”

The Baron hesitated, watching him with interest. “What is this to you, boy, this stone?” he asked after a pause. “What do you see when you stare into it? What do you feel?” When Cole didn’t reply, he continued. “That day in the forest, when the old man spoke, these little stones called out to me. In voices like the twinkling of distant starlight they sang, beguiling me. Even now, as I gaze upon them, they glow like the midday sun and whisper their sweet, delicious promises. They have a beauty unrivalled anywhere in the world. As I beheld them, clasped in that filthy beggar’s grubby hands like so many cherry-pits I knew I must have them. Even then, my plan was crude... brutish when compared to what it in time became.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “I thought to enter their village, to pick them off one at a time like a beast hiding in the shadows. For a short time, that is what I did. Then, an idea came to me.”

He paused, as if momentarily unsure of himself. “To this day I don’t know truly whether the idea was mine or that of my little singing treasures. I began to experiment with those who had chosen to wear my pretty stones. I had already noticed that their natures changed; they became calmer, more pliant. Gradually, it dawned on me that I was able to exert my will over them. Imagine my delight! You should have seen the look on one husband’s face when his lady wife pounced upon and ate a live, fat mouse right in front of him and the friendly monk who had come to visit. Bones, fur and whiskers.” He roared with laughter. The sound of it seemed to shake the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. “By the time I was washing down the mayor with his own claret, the village was mine.”

“That’s monstrous,” said Cole, with sincerity. He was shocked by the Baron’s gruesome tale.

The Baron eyed him amusedly. “Is the spider monstrous when it dines on the fly caught in its web? Is it monstrous for the eagle to swoop down on the rabbit as it tries in vain to scamper away?” He shook his head. “You should not call anything monstrous for simply acting upon its nature.”

“I see no web, nor wings, yet you liken your actions to those of beasts,” Cole replied. “What are you, Baron?”

“My people are very old, man-child. More ancient than your vulgar, simian minds are able to comprehend. My ancestors saw the rise of mankind. We hunted them, long before your kind worked out which end of a pointed stick they should hold. We were the teeth in the darkness. The fear in the night.” He glanced towards Raven, who had silently observed their conversation with a look of revulsion. “I believe your friend may know our name. Isn’t that right,
hatabi?
”

He snapped his fingers, and Raven’s mouth flew open. “
Rakh
,” she spat. “I’ve heard tales of your kind. Savage, mindless beasts. It seems at least one of them has developed some semblance of cunning.”

Smiling, the Baron gave a mocking half-bow as she spoke. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, as much as it pains me to say it, the hour grows late and I’m sure you must be exhausted after your journey. I’ve had... lodgings prepared for you both, which I’m sure you will find to be to your satisfaction.” He grinned. “Captain, if you would be so kind as to escort our guests to their suite.”

Guardsmen appeared behind their seats, and both Cole and Raven were pulled upright and dragged from the dining hall, still bound by the Baron’s enchantment. Many of the villagers watched them go with sadness in their eyes, but none made any attempt to intervene.

Cole began to feel a tingle in his fingers as they were hauled unceremoniously down a flight of stairs and along dimly lit stone passages. By the time they were hurled roughly inside a small dark cell, after the guards had slammed closed the thick door and drawn heavy steel bolts across it, he was able to move his arms freely.

Raven growled in frustration and prowled the floor of the cell, stopping occasionally to pound ineffectually on the locked door with her bare fists. Cole sank down to the floor with his back against a cold stone wall, unsure what else he could do. As the leather pouch touched the ground, Grume emerged and scampered towards a pile of straw in one corner, burying himself among the stalks. Moments later a low snoring could be heard from that part of the cell.

With a gut-wrenching cry, Raven gave up her futile assault on the door, and slumped onto the ground beside him.

“I’m sorry about Harri,” Cole said quietly.

Even in the gloom of the cell, he could see the tears sparkling in Raven’s eyes. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.” There was no need for her to say who she was referring to. “I made a vow to kill him, and I won’t rest until I put an end to his foulness.”

Cole stared down at his hands, unsure how to respond. There was a conviction to her voice that disquieted him. Despite their bleak situation, he would not have traded places with the Baron at that moment.

After a few moments of silence, he turned to Raven again. “I think,” he said, “that it’s about time you finally told me what you know about Faerloren.”