Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (77 page)

As he pulled his blade free, he heard a shout behind him as Bergen charged into the room. At the same moment, the guard still sitting at the table shook off the shock of seeing two of his fellows, who seconds earlier had been happily playing cards, cut down in the blink of an eye. He reached for a crossbow that sat upon the table, and hurriedly aimed it. The bolt flew from the weapon, whistling past Adelmar’s ear. He heard a thud and a grunt of pain behind him, but did not stop to see where it landed. As the guard rose, Adelmar hammered his shield fully into his face, knocking him onto his back. Before the man could rise, Adelmar stabbed down with as much force as he could muster, piercing the man’s mail shirt. Immediately the pool of blood from his body began to mix with that of his fellows upon the stone floor.

When he straightened, Adelmar saw that the final guard had managed to regain his feet. He stood watching him with narrowed eyes, keeping the wooden table between them. The guard shouted at him in the same alien tongue he had heard before, but he was no closer to understanding the meaning. Adelmar began to edge around the table towards him, Duty and the borrowed shield held at the ready.

Seeing his attempt to communicate fall on deaf ears, the man shrugged and reached for the weapon nearest him; a long spear with a sharp steel tip. Grinning, he began to jab at Adelmar, striking with snake-like speed across the table with the long weapon. Adelmar caught each blow upon his shield, waiting for an opening. The next time the guard struck out, he deflected the spear-tip, then immediately aimed a savage kick at the table. It crashed into the man’s thighs and he fell across it with a startled cry. With a grunt of effort, Adelmar stabbed down again, burying his sword between the guard’s shoulder-blades. There was the sound of splintering wood as the metal tip burst through the tabletop. The guard’s steel-tipped boots danced across the flagstones as he went through his death-throes, and then it was over.

Panting, Adelmar dropped the shield to the floor with a loud clang. The need for stealth had well and truly passed. It had been perhaps thirty seconds since he had stepped down into the guard-room, and four men lay dead by his hand. His leather jerkin, trousers and both hands were drenched in gore. If he had not earned his nickname before, surely he had done so now. The battle-trance left him, and he glanced around at the devastation he had wrought. It had not been as clean as he would have liked, but the job was done.

“A lot of bloody good you were,” he muttered, turning towards the steps behind him. He stopped, further words of rebuke dying upon his lips

Bergen sat slumped upon the floor, his eyes wide but unfocused. His mouth worked silently, teeth stained red. The feathered end of the crossbow bolt protruded from his chest, and already Adelmar could see the dark puddle spreading across the flagstones beneath him. Without a word, Adelmar went to him. He knew he should be relieved, that a decision he did not relish having to make had been taken from his hands by another. But watching his adjutant’s final moments, he felt nothing, only numbness.
Yet another I have cursed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. From the frightened, pleading look in Bergen’s eyes, it was clear he wanted to say something. But, unable to draw breath, his final words were left unsaid.

Adelmar was still kneeling by the body when the others found him a few minutes later. Carsley’s eyes bulged. “The captain! Is he...?”

“Fuck a duck,” Trayner spat, surveying the scene. “I thought the idea was to do this quiet. Leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you, commander?” He looked down at Bergen’s still form. “Poor blighter,” he added as an afterthought. “Despite the rod stuck up his arse he wasn’t a bad kid, considering.”

Adelmar stood. “There will be time to mourn him later,” he said, pushing down his own feelings of grief at his adjutant’s passing. “The winch to the water gate is through there. Private, you and Trayner get it open while I...”

With a loud creak, the door to the tower was pushed open. Framed by the early dawn light was a young man with the same copper complexion as the guards they had encountered. In the crook of his arm was a steaming basket, from which the smell of freshly baked bread wafted. Wide-eyed, he stared at the carnage. Then, before any of them could react, he turned and fled back the way he had come, dropping the basket in the entranceway. Round, crusty loaves rolled across the flagstones.

Adelmar swore and bolted after him, barging his way through the door, which had swung half-closed. “Open that blasted gate!” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran.

The boy was already a distance in front of him when Adelmar emerged from the base of the tower, scrambling across the rocky ridge that joined the peninsula to the mainland with the grace of a mountain goat. Desperately, Adelmar gave chase, but quickly realised it was a lost cause. The boy yelled as he ran, and in the light of the rising sun he could see distant figures moving along the walls of the fort a few hundred yards away. When the sounds of raised voices reached his ears, he abandoned the pursuit and returned to the tower.

“Is the gate open?” he demanded, closing and bolting the tower door behind him. “We’re about to have company.”

“Almost, m’lord,” came the young private’s voice from the room leading off the ground floor. “Another few moments and our boats will be clear to come through.”

“Where’s Trayner?” Adelmar asked, looking around and finding no sign of the grizzled soldier.

“He left to find a way to send a signal, he said.”

Adelmar grunted. “When the gate is raised, wait here for my instructions,” he told the young man. “Secure the tower entrance as best you can, and if they find a way to break through, go down those steps to the water and rejoin our men. We’ll have to hope we can beat them back. We’ve come too far to lose this chance.”

With that, he went to the stairs leading up inside the tower, his gaze resting momentarily upon the body that still lay at their foot. He found Trayner standing upon the balcony they had used to gain entrance. The older man had found a bow from somewhere, and as Adelmar arrived he fired a flaming arrow out across the sea. He watched as it arced out and then down towards the waves. He hoped that the Legion soldiers waiting in their boats had seen it and even now were making their way up towards them.

The sound of raised, urgent voices, filled the air. Trayner stared past him and leered obscenely. “Looks like you’ve made a few friends,” he observed.

Adelmar turned and looked back towards the direction of the fort, which was just visible around the round tower walls. Indeed, a number of figures were running towards them, the dawn light glinting off metal armour and weaponry.
We just need more time,
Adelmar thought.
Perhaps if-

A heavy blow struck him across the shoulders. The force of it caught him completely unawares, and he tipped helplessly over the edge of the balcony. His fingers scrabbled desperately for purchase as he fell, and found it. Before he knew what had happened, he dangled uselessly in the air above the peninsula. “Help me,” he cried, but when he saw the triumphant glint in Trayner’s eyes he realised what had happened was no accident.

“Bit of bother you’re in there, commander,” the older man said, grinning nastily. He stepped forward, the soles of his boot crunching onto Adelmar’s fingers. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but held on.

“Why do you do this?” Adelmar strained, but after the exertions of the night, his arms lacked the strength to pull himself up to safety.

“I’m just following orders, like a good little soldier,” Trayner replied airily. “I thought you of all people would appreciate that,
commander
.”

“Orders? Whose?” The pain in his fingers was fast becoming unbearable.

“Who’dya think? The next emperor, is who.”

Adelmar’s mind raced, at first unable to grasp his meaning. Then realisation dawned. “Jarrod put you up to this?” As he said the words, he saw the truth of it at last. How his brother’s man had worked to win his confidence since the night at the inn, getting close to him.
I’ve been a fool
, he thought,
a naive, trusting fool. All this time, and it was Jarrod that found my weakness.
In different circumstances, he might even have been proud of his brother’s cunning.

“Why’d you think he agreed to come along for this little campaign of yours in the first place?” Trayner hawked and spat, the gobbet of phlegm flying past Adelmar’s face and down the cliffside below. “Seems to me your family makes a habit of this sort of thing,” he added, conversationally. “I wonder what was going through your little girl’s mind when she went for her tumble. It’s a proper shame there’s nobody here to catch you, though.”

With a mighty roar, Adelmar redoubled his efforts to pull himself up, but it was no use. “Traitorous cur,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I won’t rest until I see you dead.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” Trayner said, smiling. “I wouldn’t worry, though, commander. It’s only a twenty foot drop to the ground from here.” He sniffed. “If you land right, leastways. I would try not roll too far, if I was you. You might break a leg, but it won’t kill you.”

Through the blood pounding through his ears, Adelmar heard the sound of boots stamping on stone and the clatter of armour. He glanced down. The soldiers had reached the base of the tower; a group of them stood below, shouting and gesticulating at him furiously. A couple began to load crossbows.

“Of course,” Trayner added, “these lads might have other ideas. Well, it’s been fun, commander, I’ll give you that. But I think it’s about time I made myself scarce. Ta-ta.”

With that, his betrayer lifted his boot and stamped it down upon Adelmar’s other hand. His fingers slipped at last, plunging him down towards the enemy soldiers below.

As was only natural for a man who had spent so much of his adult life in battle, Adelmar had thought often about his own death; when it would come and the manner of it. He’d always thought that the last face that came to his mind when his end finally arrived would be his wife’s. But the features that floated before his eyes then, as he fell from the tower, were those of his eldest daughter.

Amelie...

CHAPTER 31

A
lthough it was many years since Raven had last visited the imperial capital, she was not having any difficulty navigating its streets. If she needed to get her bearings, all she needed to do was look up. The Spire dominated the city’s skyline; a silent sentinel keeping watch on the people and houses clustered around its foot.

Frowning, she glanced upwards at the tempest gathered above its peak. Close to, she found it even more disturbing than she had during their ride across the snow-covered plains to the north. The dark clouds seemed to swirl around a central point, directly above the top of the tower. Every so often, the clouds flickered with green light as sheets of lightning flashed across their underbelly accompanied by a deep rumble of thunder. As she watched, a crackling bolt erupted from the maelstrom and struck the pale stone.

It wouldn’t be long now. The certainty sat bunched in her stomach like a fist of ice. They still did not know what the Archon’s plans were, but in a way it didn’t matter. They were here to put a stop to whatever it was, while Raven would have the answers she had been searching for, from the man she had hunted for twenty long years. If he offered the information up freely, all well and good. But if not, then she was more than willing to use whatever means of persuasion were required to prise it from him.

And yet... she felt in her heart that it was a puzzle of which they already had many of the pieces. All they lacked was the knowledge of how they fitted together. As she made her way through the darkened, empty streets, past rows of stone and wooden buildings lit from within by candlelight, her mind ran through everything they had been able to learn.

That the Order was seeking to gain power was obvious enough, but the question was to what end? They already had the favour of the emperor and half the peoples of the land subscribed to their faith. Then there was everything they had seen on their travels. The fate of the villagers of Faerloren. The studies conducted by the Brothers of Frosthold. The unnatural green crystal columns that seemingly sprouted straight from the ground. Despite travelling across the Empire, they had not seen their like anywhere but Strathearn, while the positions of the columns of green fire they had seen suggested they were present in the other major towns and cities of the realm. It seemed unlikely that was coincidental. But if they had appeared in specific locations, then by whose hand were they guided?

It is all connected,
she thought. As she attempted to piece it together, she kept coming back to the green crystals worn by the Order’s followers. That they changed people somehow was clear; they had seen that for themselves in the Spiritwood and just that afternoon inside the tavern. The Baron had been able to exert his malign influence over those who had carried the stones. But there had been no sign that he was able to extend that beyond the forest. In any case, the monster that had ruled over that cursed village for decades lay dead by her hand.

She thought then about what Cole was able to do using the crystals. As far as they had seen or heard, he alone was capable of visiting the dreams of others. Even in the short time she had known him, his powers had grown. How much further could they go? It was a question that troubled her greatly. The Order certainly knew of his unique ability, so by extension the Archon himself must have been aware. Doubtless, then, it had been the reason for his attack upon the peaceful Brothers of Stelys. His giant manservant, they knew, hunted him still. But where did Cole fit in? She thought of the Aevir prophecy. She still doubted the truth of it, while Cole himself seemed bemused by what the leader of the bird people had told them. But was the Archon acting from fear that Cole had the means to thwart his plans... or was he a tool that could ensure their success?

Raven scowled. If the latter was true, then by taking Cole to the tower she risked delivering him straight into the Archon’s hands and allowing him to complete whatever dark business he had planned.
But if it’s the former, then leaving him behind might mean failing to stop him,
she thought. If only she could puzzle her way through the confused knot of seemingly disparate strands, she would discover the right course of action. She knew instinctively that choosing incorrectly would be catastrophic.
But I’m running out of time.

Such thoughts raced through Raven’s mind as she wended her way through the cobbled streets. Yet there was a small voice in the back of her head that told her that she was merely distracting herself from the other reason she had left the sanctuary of the inn this night. If she was to be honest with herself, it was the main reason she had come, alone and in darkness.
Six people!
If she had not been wearing her hood to disguise her face as they came through the main gate, she might have felt the nervous glances upon her earlier. But she had noticed soon enough after removing it in the tavern, and had demanded an explanation from the overly jovial landlord. His response had chilled her.

As she approached a turning at the end of the street, Raven heard the clatter of steel boots. Instinctively, she slipped into a patch of shadow against one wall. A blade was in her hand in the same instant, her heart pounding in her chest. Carefully, she peered around the corner and saw a platoon of armoured guardsmen marching towards her. Before they could reach the corner, she retraced her steps back to the mouth of an alley she had passed a few moments earlier and ducked inside it.

Not before time. Seconds later, the patrol tromped past the alley without pausing to investigate it, as Raven had hoped they would. The guardsmen, she suspected, had little desire to confront whatever danger roamed the streets of the city; they were happy enough to enforce the curfew so as to satisfy their superiors without risking their necks in the process. Even so, she crouched down low behind the half-rotted carcass of an old barrel as they passed, her nose wrinkling at the dank odour.

When the sound of their footsteps receded into the distance, Raven emerged from her hiding place. As she did so, a tiny sound made her spin around, blade raised protectively. There was a sharp intake of breath. Standing in the shadows of the alley was a small figure, cowering behind a mound of detritus. Despite the darkness, she saw the whites of eyes opened wide, watching her. A child. She took a step closer, and noticed the grimy, lank, dark-blonde hair and moth-eaten clothes. She had obviously disturbed them when she appeared suddenly. She took another step, and with another small cry the urchin fled, scurrying deeper into the murky alley and the maze of narrow streets beyond. Raven briefly considered giving chase, but quickly abandoned the notion. The street-child knew the hidden paths of the city far better than she did.
And tonight it is probably more dangerous to be in my company than not,
she thought.

Perhaps it was merely paranoia, but when Raven finally stepped back onto the street, it felt as though she was being observed. She glanced along the rows of buildings, and across the eaves and roofs, but could see no sign of another soul in this part of the city.

Warily, she moved off and continued her journey towards the giant tower. She stayed alert as she made her way through the silent streets. Occasionally she came across other patrols, but it was a simple enough task to avoid them. The clattering of their armour and footsteps could be heard over a street away, their progress slow. They acted more as a deterrent than a concerted way of catching the killer that had terrorised the city for a month, or those that chose to break the curfew.

It did not take long to reach the plaza upon which the tower had been constructed; it was only five or six streets from the inn where she had left Cole. As she neared it, the salt tang on the breeze grew stronger. They were not far from the harbour, she knew. In fact, the city wall was visible just beyond the tower, on the other side of which was the deep, wide bay beside which the city had flourished.

Raven didn’t venture out into the plaza itself. Instead, she pressed herself close up against the brickwork of the house on the corner of the street. The reason for her caution patrolled around the tower’s base. Two squads of guardsmen roamed the plaza, numbering twenty between them at least. Even a cursory glance told her they were different to those she had seen elsewhere on the streets, larger and more heavily armoured. At the head of each marched an officer, marked by his steel plate and red plume springing from the top of his helm.
They aren’t here because of the curfew,
she decided. They had the look of soldiers stationed to protect the tower, and not the city or its inhabitants.

Raven bit her lip as she pondered her next move. Perhaps naively, she had thought she would be able to investigate the tower up close and discover a means of entering it. Yet, even that would have likely proven fruitless. Even from this distance she could tell that climbing it was near-impossible. It was simply too high, constructed in such a way that its outer face was almost wholly smooth with few handholds. There were no outer defences that she could see, but the guards presented a sizeable obstacle.

All the same, she had one or two ideas about how they might proceed. Perhaps it was worth talking to Cole about their options... and her concerns about his role in the Archon’s schemes. Despite her initial misgivings about his history with the Order, through their travels she had grown fond of the... boy.
You were going to say man, don’t try to deny it
, piped up a traitorous thought. She paused. A vision of Cole’s face floated up in her mind. Viewed critically, he was more a man than a child, so why then was she always at such great pains to deny his growing maturity? The thought bothered her. Then, the fact that it bothered her so much annoyed her further. “Man or boy he can be maddening,” she muttered.

Raven shook her head to dispel the increasingly disturbing thoughts taking form, and looked once more at the tower. She sighed inwardly. There seemed little more to be learned, so before she was discovered Raven tore herself away from the building and began to retrace her steps.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, she stepped lightly into an alley, and the decaying barrel near its mouth told her it was the same one she had taken shelter in previously. Once again, the patrol trooped past, in the opposite direction this time, without so much as glancing in her direction. The guardsmen’s lack of interest in the alley struck her suddenly. They weren’t avoiding searching it as such, it was more they didn’t notice it at all. It simply didn’t belong to them, did not fall within their jurisdiction. It was as though there were two cities occupying the same space; one that consisted of wide, stone-flagged streets, belonging to well-fed citizens and guardsmen, and another that was made of alleys and grime, home to the lost and forgotten shadow-people of Ehrenburg. Each obeyed its own laws.

There was another small sound behind her, and this time Raven did not twirl to face it, not wanting to scare the urchin as she had done before. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered soothingly. She turned slowly. A smile that had been forming on her lips spluttered and died.

The dark figure stood watching her, its face hidden deep within the hood it wore. It was so still it might almost have been a part of the alley itself; if not for the fact Raven had been in the same place minutes earlier she might not even have noticed it.
It’s strange,
her inner voice whispered,
I thought I would be afraid.
Instead, anger flared within her, a rage tempered with guilt for the six lives that had been lost. Not killed by her hand, perhaps, but in her heart she knew she was no less responsible.

“It’s me, isn’t it? I’m the one you’ve been searching for.” The cold certainty had hit her like a slap to the face the moment the tavern landlord had spoken of the killer stalking the streets of the capital, and the one characteristic that linked its victims.
It knew,
she thought.
Somehow it knew that one day I would return to the city.

The figure still did not move, nor indicate that they had heard. Raven drew one of her blades from its scabbard and eyed up their surroundings. The alley was narrow, dark and slippery underfoot with slush and puddles. Not ideal. Far better to fight in one of the wide open streets... were it not for the patrolling guardsmen.

“Why kill those others?” she went on. Her body was a coiled spring. “Unless... you don’t know me, not really. All you had was a vague description.” Her anger flared anew. “They did nothing to you, did nothing wrong except be born looking different to the rest.” Her mind drifted back to the taunts of her childhood. “Well, it ends here.” From the figure came the sound of whispering steel. A sword appeared in its hand, but still it made no move toward her.

All at once, striking with unnatural speed, the figure sprang at her. One moment it had been standing still as before, the next its blade was slashing at her face. Though Raven was expecting the strike, it came so fast that she barely had time to raise her own sword in defence. The clang as their weapons met echoed around the close walls of the alley.

When she saw her assailant was caught off-balance, Raven didn’t hesitate. With her free hand she grasped the wrist of his sword arm, holding it firm. She knocked the heels of her boots together to press the tiny button concealed there. When she heard the click, she kicked out savagely at the cloaked figure’s torso. With dismay, she felt the hidden blade snap and fly away into some unseen corner of the alley, while the force of the blow sent painful tremors shooting up her leg.
What armour is that? It makes no sound as he moves, yet is harder than steel.