Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (7 page)

The giant sliced the blade through the air a few times, testing its weight. The grotesque mask nodded once with approval. Then the mechanical hand and the sword it grasped began to spin. Slowly at first, then gathering speed.

A commotion broke out as Brothers and novices around the hall leapt to their feet, panic in their eyes, sending platters and half-filled goblets flying. One of the younger boys began to bawl.

At a signal from the Archon, the other robed figures spread out around the hall drew out swords of their own. The elder fell to his knees beside the Archon. “Please, lord,” he begged. “I-”

The giant’s metal arm swept down. With a gush of blood, the elder’s head flew from his shoulders. It landed in the nearest hearth in a puff of ash. Moments later, the stench of burned hair and roasting flesh filled the air.

There was a heavy thud as the doors of the Great Hall were barred. Then the slaughter began in earnest.

*      *      *

As the first scream shattered the stillness of the night, Cole sat up on his bed with a jolt. Only a few seconds had passed when he heard the sound of running feet outside his door. Before he could stand, Brother Merryl barrelled into the room, his face a sickly grey pallor.

“Cole, can you walk?” the old man demanded. Outside, the sounds of battle carried across the courtyard.

“Yes... I think so.” Cole was already beginning to feel better. He swung his legs to the end of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. He swayed slightly as he stood, but did not fall.

“Good,” said Merryl, opening the door. “We must leave, now.”

“What’s happening?”

Merryl shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just as I reached the doors to the Great Hall, I heard shouts, and then screams. We are under attack, that much is clear, but I cannot say by whom. I returned here as fast as I could.”

An old cloak hung by his bed. Cole grabbed it and threw it hurriedly around his shoulders as they stole from the room. Merryl hesitated, glancing up and down the corridor. They could still hear the fight raging on nearby, but so far it seemed contained within the Great Hall.

Satisfied that they were alone, Merryl hurried in the direction of the main gates, Cole at his heels.

“Where are we going?” he whispered.

“To the dock, it is the only way,” the old man hissed back.

“What?” Cole was appalled. “I am no craven. Flee if you must, I cannot leave my Brothers behind to be slaughtered!”

Brother Merryl’s hand darted out as he turned to leave, and fastened onto his cloak. “If we go back, child, then we die. I cannot wield a sword and you can barely walk. There is nothing we can do. We must go, and bring aid if we can.”

Cole stared across the courtyard to the closed double doors of the hall, his jaw tight. Even now, the sound of fighting was lessening. Merryl began to shuffle away. Reluctantly, Cole followed, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

They stumbled along darkened corridors and galleries, moving as fast as age and injury would allow. As they neared the gatehouse, Merryl pressed himself into a shadow along one wall, and gestured for Cole to do the same. He raised a finger to his lips.

Cole risked a peek around the corner of the wall they were huddled against. The outlines of two men were visible in the torchlight of the gatehouse. He heard a murmur of voices, but was unable to make out what was said.
Friend or foe?
he wondered.

The old man had clearly had the same thought. “We must assume they mean us ill,”  he said. He broke away from the wall, beckoning Cole to follow.

“What now?”

“To the solar,” Merryl replied. “There is a secret stair that leads to the dock. It will be perilous in the dark, but I see no other choice.”

They had to double back part of the way they had come, until they found a flight of steps leading to the ramparts. “If we’re careful, this should bring us there safely,” Merryl explained.

The ramparts ran the whole length of the curtain wall. They would be exposed to any eyes within the courtyard that chanced to look up, but luck was on their side; the night was overcast, the moon and stars hidden behind banks of cloud. Brother Merryl was right, if they were careful, there was a chance they would not be spotted.

Once they reached the wall, they proceeded in silence. As they hoped, the way was clear, and a short time later they reached the walkway that skirted the upper storey of the gatehouse.

Taking care to not step into the torchlight, Cole peered down toward the main gate. The two guards he had seen before still stood sentry.

Just then, across the courtyard, the doors of the Great Hall opened and dark, cowled figures spilled out, silhouetted by the light of the fires within. Even at this distance, Cole could see they were armed. Barked instructions rang out, and the shadows scattered. Half a dozen trotted towards the Hall of Novices.

“Come, we must make haste,” Brother Merryl whispered urgently.

They continued on, as silently as they could. Soon, the gatehouse was behind them, and before long they had reached another flight of steps. “Down, quickly,” Merryl hissed. “This should bring us near to the solar gate. I fear we have tarried too long already.”

Cole bounded down the steps, Merryl close behind. The old man was breathing hard after their flight across the keep.

“There!” Cole spotted the open portcullis, beyond which lay the bridge to the solar. It already seemed like a hundred years since he and the old man last crossed it, though it had actually been but a scant week earlier.

No sooner had Brother Merryl reached the ground than there was a shout behind them. Cole’s heart leapt into his throat. He turned to see two robed figures rushing along the corridor towards them, brandishing swords.             

“Hurry, boy, through the gate!” Cole felt a shove at his back, and he leapt through the opening. He heard the old man’s sandals slapping on the flagstones behind him.

Their pursuers were less than forty feet away when Merryl limped through the gateway, feeling every one of his seventy summers in his joints. The instant he was through, Cole pulled a lever set into the wall. Chains flew up into the brickwork with an ear-splitting screech and the portcullis dropped with a crash. The winch to raise it again was hidden in a small alcove nearby, on the other side of the arch, and he hoped it would take their pursuers a while to discover it.

Brother Merryl breathed a sigh of relief. “Well done, my son, that should buy us a few moments. Follow the wall to the left, there are some handholds carved into the cliff face. Eventually you will come to a path that-”

Cole watched, dumbstruck, as metal burst through the old man’s chest, dripping with gore. Merryl gasped and crumpled to the ground.

“Merryl!” Cole lurched forward to grab him as the blade withdrew. The old man was limp in his arms. Blood gushed from the wound in his chest, pumping his life away with every beat of his heart.

Two hooded faces stared at him from the other side of the metal grille, their expressions strangely blank. One of the men still held out the blade he had thrust into Merryl’s back.

“Open the gate, boy,” called the other, his voice flat.

“The master wishes to speak to you,” said his companion, in the same strange inflectionless tone. They sounded almost bored.

Cole backed away, half-supporting, half-carrying Brother Merryl. The old man’s breaths came in wet, whistling gasps. Cole fought to keep his rising panic under control.  Not knowing what else to do, he dragged them both to the long stone bridge that led to the rock spire, upon which sat the elder’s solar.

Behind him, Cole could hear the clang of metal as the cowled men made ineffectual attempts to raise the portcullis by hand. He caught a few words that sounded much like “get the brute”. He quickened his pace.

Half a hundred yards along the bridge, Cole paused and gazed out across the water, towards the dock far below. Just then, the moon shone through a gap in the clouds, and he groaned at the tiny but distinct silhouettes of men on patrol beside the moored ships.

He hurried along the remainder of the bridge, by now supporting the entire weight of the old man, shocked at how light he was. Eventually, they reached the solar. Cole ducked beneath the hanging tendrils of orchids, and gently eased Brother Merryl onto the stone floor beyond.

In spite of the darkness, he could see that the old man’s chest barely moved. The blade that had torn its way through his chest had missed the heart, but he had lost so much blood. He surely did not have long. “I’m so sorry,” Cole whispered, blinking away tears.

Merryl’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled weakly. “Only a fool cries at the passing of an old man. I am done, Cole. You must...” He grimaced at a sudden stab of pain. “You must leave.”

Cole shook his head. “The dock is guarded. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here, to the solar.” He hesitated. “There is not much time. But, if you wish, I believe I can take you there again. One last time.”

The old man nodded, and the gratitude in his eyes tore at Cole’s heart. He reached for the chain around Merryl’s neck, and withdrew the crystal pendant. He wasn’t sure he could make the journey again so soon. But he had to try.

Cole wrapped his fist around the small crystal, and focused. He fought back the dizziness and flew through the dark, willing himself on.
Faster.

His feet touched down on sand, and he ran
.
He found the Brother Merryl of this strange other plane, the floating orb that contained all the old man’s memories and dreams, and thrust a hand beneath the liquid surface.

As it yielded, Cole felt the old man’s fear, his pain. He tried to soothe as best he could while he searched. Finally, he found what he was looking for, took hold and
twisted...

He stood in dappled sunshine, outside a familiar cottage. In life – real life – he had never been to this place, yet he knew it well just the same. In front of him was a wooden gate. It had once been painted blue, but exactly which shade was now a mystery, with the gate bleached almost white by the sun. He pushed it open, and stepped through.

It was high summer and the garden was filled with blooms of every colour, the air thick with their scent. Butterflies danced from flower to flower. Cole couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the place, as he walked around the side of the cottage.

If the garden at the front was blooming, the back was a verdant maze of plants, shrubs and trees of all sizes. Two rose bushes had been trained into an archway above the path. In all the times he had visited the garden, he had never ventured beyond that point. Today, he stepped through the rose-arch without a second thought. He followed the path, which wended its way past beds overflowing with greenery.

Around one corner there was a plain wooden bench. An old man in a brown robe was seated on it, his head tilted back, drinking in the sunshine.

As he sat beside him, Merryl spoke. “Thank you, Cole.”

Cole stared at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be,” the old man replied gently. “You have given me a fine gift. I always believed I would die beside the sea. You have brought me home.”

For a time they just sat, without speaking. Cole watched a fat bumblebee buzz past them, its flight ungainly.

“How long?” Brother Merryl’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Cole could hear the fear behind his words.

“I’m not sure exactly,” he replied. “Time moves different here, I’ve noticed, more slowly. I’ve spent hours here before, and returned to find that only minutes have passed out there.”

The old man nodded, satisfied. “Cole, when you return, you must flee. Those men, the ones who chased us, they arrived in the Archon’s party.”

“I saw them, the ones who...” Cole tailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “They seemed strange, as if in a trance,” he finished.

The old man paused, mulling over his words. “I believe now there is a sickness within our Order,” he said. “I have felt uneasy for some time, but ignored my concerns. Fool that I am! If only we knew how far it has spread.”

“One of the other bastions, perhaps?”

The old man shook his head. “Most have already been called to Ehrenburg now that the Spire is nearing completion. But perhaps...” he tailed off.

“What is it, Brother?”

“In the mountains far to the east, on the tallest peak of the Dragon’s Back, there is a sanctuary, Frosthold. Less than a dozen Brothers remain, scholars all. I have heard very little of them for many years, but that is the point; they are isolated. There is a chance, perhaps, that whatever sickness infects us has yet to take hold there.” He paused, thinking. “They may even have noted something amiss themselves. The Brothers of Frosthold are some of the wisest of our Order.”

Cole stood. “Then that is where I shall go.”

“You must be careful, child.” Merryl sounded anxious. “The road east is fraught with dangers. It would be wise to seek company, a guide who can steer you safely along your path.”

“I will try.” Cole sighed. “It is time for me to leave.”

“Yes.” The old man smiled placidly. “I believe I shall just sit awhile, and enjoy the sunshine. All things considered, it was not such a bad life.”