Son of Corse (The Raven Chronicles Book 2)

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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

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SON OF CORSE

Book 2 of The Raven Chronicles

By

KateMarie Collins

For

Kristy, Sheri, and Tara

“Banzai!”

Prologue

S
enyan stared blankly into the fire. His eyes narrowed. He’d been a pawn his entire life, and was
still. It was time to change that.

              “Lord Senyan?” A quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. Senyan’s hand held a glass of wine. With a deliberate motion, he placed the goblet on the small table beside him before rising gracefully. 

              A man stood in the doorway to the chamber. He kept his head down as he spoke. “Pardon the interruption, Lord Senyan.  Lord Corse did send me to request that you attend him in his tower.” Johannes’ voice was low and cautious.

              Senyan nodded, being careful not to let his excitement show. The communication between him and Corse had always been through indirect means. Perhaps now, after allowing Arwenna to have her small victory, he’d earned enough trust to meet Corse face to face.

              The climb up the tower was long. A dull red glow tainted the opaque windows. It sat well with him, not being able to see what dwelled outside. This was the place
she
chose to send them. Even Corse liked his solitude here. Senyan had an idea of what demons she would surround them with, what horrors of her own devising would dwell outside.

              The door at the top gleamed slightly, the iron bands that held the thick wood planks reflecting the light from the torches nearby. Straightening his stance, Senyan rapped on the door. It opened without a sound after his knock.

              “You sent for me?” Senyan called out into the room.

              “Yes, Lu’Thare.  We have much planning to do, you and I.” Mialee came around a corner.  Disappointment flared in Senyan.  Corse continued to mask his true form, using this one to tempt him
.
After everything Senyan had done for him, allowing Y’Dürkie’s blade to cut him down, Corse still didn’t trust him.

              Senyan spoke as the door closed silently behind him.  “That’s not my name any more.”  The timbre of his voice fell just short of open rebellion. He watched as she walked over to a small table and poured two glasses of wine.  Sensuously, she closed the space between them and offered him one of the glasses. 

Corse’s melodic laugh echoed in the chamber.  “You prefer the name given to you by some elven whore?  You surprise me.  I would have thought you’d want nothing to connect you to Arwenna anymore.”  She turned and walked slowly over to a divan against a wall.  “If it makes you more comfortable, however, Senyan it shall be.”  She raised the glass to her lips, never taking her eyes off of him. 

              Senyan walked over and seated himself near her on the divan, glad for the momentary pause to gather his thoughts. That Corse knew who he’d been in the past didn’t surprise him. “Lu’Thare was a boy, scared of his own shadow.  I’m hardly that.”  His voice was slightly less edgy, but still forceful.  “I will need you to bring back an old friend if things are to work to our advantage.”  He sipped his wine. 

              “I like that idea.  But we cannot let your friend have his toy yet.  I have need of her still.  Make sure he knows he doesn’t get her until I’m finished.”  A hand reached out, playing with the end of Senyan’s hair. The muscles in his neck tightened slightly at the touch. “I’ve made all the arrangements.  You will be going back in the morning.  Do what you must to bring Bohrs back to help you.  Once he is raised, go back to the cavern near the lake.  You know how to find it.  I’ve been busy down there.  I’ll finish giving you both your orders there.”  Corse paused, deliberately shifting on the couch so to tempt Senyan with Mialee’s lush body. 

              Senyan nodded his agreement, his mind busy with plans of his own.  Recognizing the shift in Corse, he spoke quietly over the rim of his goblet.  “Anything else you need from me tonight?”  His ice blue eyes met red ones, both understanding the question and answer.

              Hours later, Senyan woke up.  The form Corse had chosen lay sleeping naked next to him.  He could feel the magic to return him to the world above building. Those who were seeking his soul were close. The need to answer the call bordered unbearable. It would not be long now.  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as he gave into the request.

              Grasping onto the edge of the bed, Senyan gave his mind time to adjust to the return.  It was not an easy thing to endure.  Though he no longer possessed a heart or lungs, his body screamed with pain as the magic sustaining his life flared through his veins. “It took you long enough.  There is much to be done.  More than would have been necessary if you’d done the rite earlier.” Senyan’s voice cracked like a whip as he gave his orders.  Within moments, two of the priests scurried off to do his bidding. 

              The remaining priest waited patiently for Senyan to acclimate before speaking.  “I apologize for the delay, Lord Senyan.  It proved more difficult than we had thought to locate where they disposed of your body.”  Father Morgyn swallowed hard, hoping the weak excuse would somehow make him happy.  “We were told you would need this.”  He handed a large tome over to Senyan. 

              Senyan looked at the priest for a moment before turning his attention to the tome.  Dust had settled into the crevices of the binding. The black leather creaked slightly as he opened it to a marked page.  There, barely legible, was the spell.  The one that would let him circumvent Hauk’s magic, and bring Bohrs back in a way even she wouldn’t recognize until it was too late. The priests would find the sacrifices Corse had told him he would need. With a loud sound, he closed the book.  He rose, walking towards the window.  It was still dark outside.  “Where are we?” he asked.

              “We are in an inn, Lord Senyan, in a town by the name of Serenity.  It is a mining community, on the shores of Lake Brahl.  I...” Senyan raised a hand, cutting him off. 

              Nodding with understanding, Senyan let the curtain drop in front of the window again.  “There is a ruin outside of town, about five miles or so.  It was a temple at one time.  Do you know where I speak of?”  He didn’t look at the priest but rather began to rummage through a chest for what equipment may be there.

              “Yes, Lord Senyan.  I know it well.”  The priest answered quickly.

              “Good.  That’s where I’m going.  When the others return, bring them there.”  Senyan paused for a moment, grabbing at a pack and placing the large tome inside.  “I will also need someone whose body is sound but their mind is gone.  Find one such man and bring him with you.  Do not mistreat him in any way.  Bathe him, get him clean clothing.  Bring armor for him, and a sword befitting a warrior king.  Make sure the weapon and armor are blessed if you expect to live another week.” Without another word, he slung the pack onto his back.  Grabbing a cloak hanging near the door, a small figure standing in the shadows caught his eye at last. So, Irini hadn’t shaken off his hold over her.  He snapped his fingers, commanding her to follow him.  Dutifully, the woman fell into step behind him. 

              The hike to the temple took most of the day.  The landscape had slowly reclaimed the path Senyan remembered.  The temple itself appeared the same as it had been, the only difference being the amount of forest that had crept into cracks and crevices.  Using the toe of his shoe, he nudged the small remnants of clothing that remained there still against the far wall.  The symbol on the robe was burned, making identification impossible.  Not that it mattered.  He remembered who wore that robe, and what he would’ve done to Senyan. Hauk and Lexi were far more annoying than the misguided cultist ever were.  There would be time to deal with individuals once the larger plan was in place.  Revenge would come swiftly enough.

              It was a good week before the priests began to arrive with the items Senyan required them to bring.  He put his time waiting to good use, making the temple once again both habitable and useful.  Using Irini for some of the more mundane and labor intensive tasks, Senyan turned his thoughts to the items he would need to complete the ritual before him.  He fished out the rusted iron sword from the ashes of the fire pit. Using his magic, he refashioned it to a small cage of cold iron.  Restraints of another kind were fastened to one of the pillars. 

              The first priest to return brought a small bundle, squirming with life. A tight smile of satisfaction crossed Senyan’s lips as he placed the struggling fairy into the iron cage. It was small enough that she could not move much without the cold iron touching her. The acrid odor of singed wings didn’t bother him, but he knew it pained the creature. Which meant that somewhere, Lexi flinched and didn’t know why.

              The priest of Hauk was brought next.  He was an older man, in the decline of his life.  There was not much strength left in him to fight anyone off as he was chained to the pillar opposite the fairy. 

              At last, Father Morgyn arrived with another man following blindly behind him.  “I apologize for the delay, Lord Senyan.  I found him well enough, but it took a while for me to convince him that a bath needed water instead of mud.  As I understand it, he almost drowned in the lake as a child. His body continued to grow, but his mind was gone after being in the water for so long.” The priest bowed and backed away.

              Senyan took a look at the slack jawed man staring blankly at him. The body was well developed and muscular. His family must have used him for heavy work around the farm or town.  Sending out some magic, Senyan could easily see there wasn’t much left to the man’s mind. 
That’s fine
, he thought. 
I just need
the body
.

              Senyan motioned the man to lie down on the stone in the center of the temple.  A smile crossed Senyan’s face as the man trusted him instantly, obeying without question.  Two of the priests took up positions behind the two other captives.  Father Morgyn stood near the man on the slab, uttering a spell meant to put him into a trance. An uneasy silence descended on the room as Senyan fished out a goblet from his pack.  Reciting the spell under his breath, he circled around to the captive priest of Hauk.  With a nod to the priest behind him, Senyan watched as the man slid a knife across the elderly priest’s neck.  The sacrifice uttered no sound as the thin line opened wider. Reaching forward with the goblet, he caught the blood as it flowed from the mortal wound. 

              He approached the caged fairy. The iron bars hissed, burning her as she tried to avoid the hand grabbing at her small form. With a precise movement, the priest holding her slit her throat above the goblet, her blood blending with that of the Priest of Hauk.

              Gliding on silent feet, Senyan approached the priest behind the body of the cleric of Hauk again.  Without hesitation, the man knelt before Senyan and leaned his head back, exposing his neck.  The man slit his own throat, giving his life in service to Senyan’s need.

              Senyan waited a moment, finishing the wording of the spell as the man slumped dead to the ground at his feet. Once completed, he walked over to the man on the altar and slowly began to pour the contents of the goblet into the prone man’s mouth before starting a new chant.  He retreated, waiting for the spell to work.

              The man on the altar convulsed slightly as his body instinctively fought with the mind trying to overtake it. Time slowed to a crawl as the internal battle continued. At last, the body stilled and the breathing became more regular.  The eyes flew open, and the man slowly sat up. 

              Senyan’s deep voice resonated off the stone walls that remained.  “Of blood spilled, of blood taken, grant onto your champion the power of life against those who were sacrificed…grant your champion your strength in battle against those who rise against you….let those who dare gaze upon your champion cower in fear and know that you are coming.”

              Walking over to the altar, Senyan once again looked into the new face of his old friend. “Welcome back, Lord Bohrs.  Take up the sword and prepare yourself.  There is much to be done.”

              Bohrs slowly turned his head, taking in his surroundings.  He raised his head towards the starlit sky, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.                Looking back at Senyan, he slid down off the altar.