Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (57 page)

Raven walked to the nearest shelf and took down a ledger. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t planning their next prayer meeting,” she said, flicking through its pages.

He picked up one himself, and opened it at random. Like those in the elder’s chamber, these were catalogues of some kind. Records, scrupulously maintained, apparently over a period of many years. Unlike those he had seen earlier, which listed food stocks and supplies, it was quickly clear that the records kept in the dungeon of Frosthold were altogether more sinister in nature.

Each page bore a different number at the top, followed by a description.
Subject 179
, began one entry.
Female. Hair: Dark brown. Eyes: Blue. Age: 23 (estimated). Height and weight: Average. Place of birth: West Weald.
What followed were a series of observations, each one dated, though he could not understand their meaning.
Fourth of Last Sun: Subject admitted for testing. Wild, lashed out with nails. Screams disturb other subjects. Advise accelerated exposure to the material. Sixth of Last Sun: A day following exposure, subject has calmed considerably. Understands reasons for incarceration and shows remorse. Shows signs of agitation when material is removed temporarily. Recommend prolonged exposure to observe effects.
The dates and entries ran the length of the page, until the final one, written in red ink:
Eighteenth of First Bloom: Subject deceased
.

Cole closed the book, and glanced at the spine. It was dated six years ago. At least a dozen other ledgers on the same shelf were from the same period, it seemed. Looking around the room, there were hundreds of ledgers. “I... I don’t understand,” he said aloud. “What were they doing here?”

Raven dropped one ledger and picked another, flicking furiously through its pages. “Experimenting on prisoners,” she replied, with barely concealed anger. “In one of his letters upstairs, the Archon mentioned sending another consignment from Ehrenburg. I thought perhaps he meant supplies of some kind, but now...” She ran her fingers down a list of written entries. “They keep referring to ‘the material’. Ha!” she suddenly exclaimed. “On this page, they talk about putting a crystal into one of the cells. That must be it.” She flicked through more pages. “The pattern is similar each time. They bring in a prisoner and expose them to the crystals. They become calmer, easier to control. In some cases they take the crystal away after a time, in others they put them in the cell in greater quantities. In this one they cut into his skin to place the stones under his flesh.”

Cole grimaced. “Just like Faerloren,” he said.

“Worse,” Raven replied, slamming the book closed. “They tried grafting crystals onto bone, placing them in different parts of the body. In the organs, even. There was one where they put a pinch of ground-up crystal dust into the prisoner’s meals. They did everything they could think of to these people, to study what happened to them.”

“And what did happen?”

“They died,” Raven snarled. “I don’t think it was just the crystals, though. It was what was done to them. Eventually they all died. Then the Brothers cut up their bodies to study their remains.”

Cole found a lot of his sympathy for the bodies they had found in the cells evaporate. “They wanted to find out what the crystals do, how they work.” He glanced again around the room they stood in. The odd-looking chair he had noticed previously took on an even greater malevolence now they knew its purpose. Cole found himself picturing a Brother, dressed in the same brown robes as those he had grown up surrounded by, sitting at the desk, fastidiously taking notes as grotesque experiments were carried out just feet away.
This is what true evil looks like,
he thought.

“So everyone who was brought here was experimented on?” The thought appalled him. “But how did they die? There are so many ledgers. Surely they weren’t all... operated on.” He grimaced.

Raven was flicking through another book. “No, I don’t think so. It looks like the Brothers here began those experiments only within the last few years.” Her eyes scanned the hand-written lines of text. “Here’s an earlier entry. This one died in their cell. According to this account she just... wasted away.”

“What do you mean?”

Raven scowled at the page. “Just that. It describes how she was brought in kicking and screaming, then over the coming weeks and months she gradually became calmer and quieter. It says that by the end she was catatonic. Just went to sleep one night and never woke up.” She flicked hurriedly through the sheets, until she found more red lettering. “This one is the same.”

Cole stared at the walls lined with shelves, each of which groaned under the weight of the leather-bound ledgers. “So many people,” he observed solemnly. “Do you think it was being exposed to the crystals that did that to them?”

“I’d say that was a safe bet.” Raven replaced the ledger.

“But how? None of the Brothers I grew up with lost their minds, and they wore crystals for years.”

“Maybe it’s the quantity, or what else the Brothers were doing to them...” Raven threw her hands up exasperatedly. “I don’t know! There’s not enough information here, or even if there is it could take months of searching to find it. Years, even! They found the secret of how to prevent the harmful effects of the Order’s crystals, that’s plain enough, but it seems they took it to the grave.” She kicked out at the desk, rattling the jars and inkwells on top.

Cole was running his fingers along the spines of the books, when another thought occurred to him. “Merryl knew,” he said. “Or, at least knew that something was taking place here. Go to Frosthold, he told me, you will find answers there.” He looked up at Raven. “I thought perhaps the Brothers here could tell me more about what I can do, or why me. I... I did not expect to find this.”

“They didn’t know, Cole. Don’t you see?” Raven grasped his shoulder. “You were being experimented on as well. All that time you spent with Merryl, joining with the crystals... they were trying to understand it just as much as you were.”

Cole felt anger flare within him. “But why send me here? Why tell me to cross the Empire to find a dungeon full of corpses and books detailing years of torture? What was the point of all this?”

Raven bit her lip. “Perhaps it wasn’t about finding the truth about yourself, Cole. You told me yourself that Merryl regretted the direction the Order has taken under this Archon.  Maybe he wanted you to come here to see for yourself what the Order is capable of. What the crystals are capable of.”

“And what is that?” Cole asked sullenly.

“Control,” Raven said flatly “It’s all here. When people are exposed to the crystals they change, become more pliant. Too much so, it seems... there’s no point controlling people who end up in a stupor a few weeks later. I’d bet my life that many of these experiments were carried out to try and find a way to stop that happening. But eventually they perfected the process.”

“But what is it all for? I still don’t understand what the Archon wants.”

“What is it ever all about?” When Cole looked blank, she went on: “It’s about power. You saw what the Baron was able to do in Faerloren. It wasn’t
his
power, or at least not wholly. It was the crystals that allowed him to do what he did to those people. Now, half the realm already wears the Order’s stone around their necks. If they all marched under his banner, he’d be the most powerful man in the Empire. He’s spent the last twenty years giving them away across the land, gradually gaining influence, all while trying to learn more about them...” Suddenly Raven’s eyes flew wide. She ran to a nearby shelf and began to examine the spines of the books. With a cry of frustration she hurled them to the ground and moved to another shelf.

“Raven, what are you doing?”

She ignored him, searching the books. Then her hand shot out and grabbed a particular volume, flicking rapidly through the pages. Cole was about to repeat his question when Raven abruptly fled from the room, clutching the ledger to her chest. He heard her footsteps echoing along the passage beyond. Cole grabbed his torch and followed; partly out of concern for her, and partly out of fear of being left alone in that place.

She had left her own torch behind, running blindly in the dark. He chased after the sound of her footsteps up the spiral staircase. Up and up she ran, past all the levels they had ignored earlier. He thought perhaps she was heading towards Frosthold’s main entrance, but when he reached that level, her footsteps continued to echo above his head.

He eventually found her in the elder’s chambers at the very top of the fortress. When he emerged, blinking, into the sunlight, she was sitting cross-legged on the same balcony he had ventured onto briefly that morning.

He went to her, and saw that the book she had taken from the dungeon was cradled in her lap. Raven was staring out across the land far below. The grey mass of the Spiritwood was away to their left. Ahead of them were the rolling green foothills, and far beyond those was the sea, vast and blue. The view was not so shocking now that he knew to expect it, and he came and sat next to her.

For a while, neither of them said anything. He watched thin streaks of cloud move past overhead. The sun was already behind them, dipping towards the horizon. They had spent more time among the horrors of the dungeon than he realised.

“They were here,” Raven said eventually, breaking the silence.

“Who?”

“My people.” She placed her palm against the ledger in her lap. “All those that were taken that night.”

“Are you sure? You could be mistaken, there were no names in any of the books I looked through.”

“I’m sure.” Raven’s voice was oddly calm. “The date matches. One of the entries describes a young girl of seven or eight years, with a large red birthmark on her face. Daisy, the miller’s daughter. They’re all there. It has been twenty years, but I still remember what they all looked like. Harry. Sam, the butcher’s ‘prentice. But Daisy’s is the face that has haunted me all these years.”

“Why?”

Tears rolled down Raven’s cheeks. “Because it should have been me. The men came to the forge that night, looking for the smith’s daughter. But Daisy had run inside when the fighting started, looking for help. I watched as they took her away, and I did nothing.”

“You were just a child,” Cole said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“Perhaps. But I could have tried. Instead, they brought her here in place of me. And then, in the dark, alone and afraid, she died, Cole. They all died.”

Cole fell silent. He began to understand why Raven lived the life she did, helping others. She was not simply hunting for her father, though that was doubtless a part of it. She was trying to assuage her guilt, to atone for allowing another girl to be abducted in her place. Cole could feel a question sitting between them, huge and ugly. He didn’t want to ask it, but knew that he must. “Was your father among them?”

She looked at him with glistening eyes and shrugged. “I... I couldn’t look.”

Cole nodded. “Let me do it. It’s the least that I owe you.” He took the ledger from her. “What did he look like?” Raven described the man she remembered, and he began to browse the pages of the ledger.
So many,
he thought. Children only a few years old, women, men and boys... dozens of them. No wonder Raven had spent her life with a burning hatred of the Order. He had to believe that Brother Merryl knew nothing of what was actually taking place at Frosthold, even if he guessed at their research. He couldn’t reconcile the memory of the kindly old man he had known with what he had learned of the Order’s activities in this place. Eventually, he reached the end of the entries contained in the ledger. “He’s not here,” he told her.

Raven’s body sagged with relief. “You’re sure?”

“Certain. None of the men who were brought here at that time match your father’s description. Whatever became of him, he didn’t end up here.”

Raven stood up and went to the balcony rail, leaning over it. Slightly alarmed that she might fall, or jump, over the edge, Cole clambered to his feet and joined her. Fortunately, from this angle, the balcony overlooked the approach to the fortress, the ground a mere hundred feet below them. It was a steep drop, Cole thought, but not as far as from the other balconies. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I’m relieved that he did not come here,” she replied sadly. “I truly am. But it means that I am no closer to finding the truth about what did happen to him, nor whether he still lives.” She sighed. “I had hoped for something, some clue. I’m not sure where I should go after this.”

“To Ehrenburg, surely?” Cole was aghast at the notion he and his guide might part ways so soon. “We still have to deal with the Archon, and stop whatever it is he’s planning.”

“He must answer for what he has done,” Raven agreed. “I pray that I find the truth by then, whatever that is.”

Cole sighed. “I guess that neither of us found the answers here we were looking for.”

Raven smiled sadly. “Half an answer is better than none at all.”

They stayed on the balcony a while longer, each lost in their own thoughts. The sky began to darken as the evening set in. With it, Cole started to shiver. He was just about to suggest going back inside, when a flash of movement caught his eye. He looked along the trail they had followed to the fortress entrance, and saw a puff of white. He shaded his eyes, trying to see more clearly. A few moments later, he could just make out a dark speck moving across the blanket of snow towards them. “What’s that?” he asked.