Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (78 page)

She was not able to ponder the question for long. Following the kick, which did not so much as make her foe stagger, he struck out with his left hand. The punch hammered into her ribs with the force of a horse’s kick. Raven felt the crunch of bone deep inside. She staggered back and let go of her attacker’s arm. That half-step saved her life in that moment. As he was released, the figure’s upper body twisted with uncanny dexterity, slashing again with the sword but meeting only empty air.

When Raven straightened, she came face to face with her attacker. By the light of the moon she was able to glimpse inside the hood, but saw only her own pain-filled eyes staring back at her.
A
mask,
she thought,
but there are no holes. How does he see?

To stay in the alley meant death, she realised. The cloaked figure was far stronger than she. Her only chance lay in being faster, though from what she had already seen they were closely matched in that regard as well. In desperation, she turned and ran. In the same instant, cold, hard fingers clawed at her scalp. But with little hair to grasp, they fell uselessly away as she sprinted towards the cobbled street.

Behind her Raven heard the splash of puddles as the cloaked figure chased after her. Her own breath came in ragged gasps, but as far as she could tell her pursuer was not even winded. When she reached the wide open space beyond the alley, she turned, swinging her sword around behind as she span. It bounced harmlessly off the cloaked figure’s shoulder with a dull metallic clang.

Undeterred, Raven settled into her familiar mode of fighting. Holding both short swords now, she dodged and pirouetted. Her heart raced, the excitement of battle heightening her senses and helping to numb the pain of whatever injury the punch had inflicted. However, she knew that she was still slower because of it. She hoped she was still quick enough. The cloaked figure was an agile fighter, but wherever his sword went, Raven had already ducked aside. Her own blades were a blur, glinting as they danced in the ghostly moonlight.

As they fought, Raven came to two realisations, the second following hard upon the heels of the first. While the masked assailant was undeniably stronger, she
was
quicker. He was able to swing his sword hard and fast with next to no backswing, generating all the force required within his own shoulders and torso. Such strength was impressive, but there was little guile to his mode of fighting. He simply hacked artlessly with his blade, and may as well have wielded a meat cleaver for all the finesse he displayed.

The second realisation was that, despite the fact she was by far the better fighter, she would still lose. While his heavy swings repeatedly failed to connect, her own cut and slashed across her assailant’s body. The tips of her blades struck all the vulnerable points. She was trained to target the arteries, nerves and muscles that if found could topple even the strongest fighter almost instantly. But where a normal foe would have collapsed by now, bleeding from numerous wounds, the cloaked figure did not even appear to be harmed. Again and again her swords ricocheted uselessly with a metallic clang. For the moment they were locked in a stalemate, each unable to fell the other... but she feared she would tire long before she was able to penetrate her assailant’s armour.

“Raven!”

The shout rang across the street. Neither she nor her opponent glanced up at the unexpected call, but for just the merest fraction of a second he hesitated. It was all the opening Raven needed, and she seized it. With a roar, she span around with her sword with as much power as she could muster, and aimed a savage blow at her assailant’s neck. She watched triumphantly as the masked head flew from its shoulders, flying across the street to bounce off the bricks of a nearby house.

Breathing heavily, Raven turned to smile at Cole. “For once I’m glad you didn’t listen to...” she began. When she saw his eyes widen and stare past her shoulder, she turned. The punch caught her in the chest and lifted her from her feet, sending her crashing on her back onto the cobbles.

As she fought to draw breath, Raven could only look on dumbstruck as the now-headless figure stalked towards her. Its sword swung down towards her, hitting the cobblestones with a flash of sparks as she rolled to avoid it.

At the end of the roll, she sprang back to her feet and whirled to face her foe. After its last attack, it had stopped. It was not lying in wait, as it had been in the alley. It turned slowly, both arms held out from its body, as if it was testing the air. She found herself staring at the stump of its neck where its head had so recently sat.
What are you?
she wondered.

Raven moved her head slightly, looking at Cole from the corner of her eye while keeping as much of her attention as she could on the cloaked figure. “Why are-” Before should could finish asking the question, the figure lashed out venomously with its sword, whistling through the air in front of her face.

“Don’t speak,” Cole hissed, jumping back to avoid another sweep of the weapon aimed in his direction. “I think it can sense noise somehow.”

Raven nodded to show that she understood. When the figure stopped swinging its sword, she ducked and rolled across the ground between them, then sliced through the air as she rose. This time, the figure’s sword-hand flew from its wrist, still clutching the weapon.
No blood,
she thought.

With its remaining hand, the creature hit out at Raven again, once more knocking her to the ground. As she looked on, its fingers warped and twisted, turning in upon themselves to form a weapon that looked every bit of deadly as the sword that now lay a dozen paces away up the street. “What is it?” Cole gasped.

Raven groaned. She would feel the bruises the next day.
Assuming I live that long.
“I wish I knew,” she replied, before rolling aside as her attacker’s remaining arm flashed towards her. She scrambled away, until her back bumped against a wall. Glancing at the sword she had used to slice away the creature’s limbs, she saw that the previously sharp edge was now a mess of dents and notches.

Cole hovered uncertainly a few yards behind the creature. “What should I do?”

Before Raven could reply, shadows began to land on the street around them. As she watched, others emerged from the mouth of the alley opposite. They were bizarrely small and stunted, and for a moment she wondered whether the pain of her wounds had caused her to hallucinate. Then as they converged upon the headless figure, saw them for what they were: children. Their high-pitched voices raised in battle-cries, the small figures jumped at the creature, clinging to its legs, arm and torso, beating upon it with a variety of sharp, makeshift weapons. She saw broken bottles, splinters of wood bristling with rusty nails and more besides, biting into the creature’s clothing. Wordlessly, it convulsed and span, trying in vain to shake them free.

“Who are they?” she wondered aloud, watching the chaotic struggle. There were perhaps a dozen children in all, and the grime and ragged state of their clothes told her they were street-children like the one she had surprised earlier that night.

“Cole!” Raven glanced up the street, where a young man jogged breathlessly towards them, his loose brown cloak flapping behind him.

“And who in the seven hells is this?” she asked, her confusion growing.

“A friend,” Cole grinned, tearing his eyes from the spectacle of the urchins clinging to the desperate figure like riders fighting to keep their seat on a bucking stallion. “Cas, keep back,” he called to the running figure.

“Hit... its back.” The latest arrival came to a halt a few yards away, doubled over with hands on his knees, trying to force out the words while catching his breath. “Hard.”

Raven nodded and jumped to her feet. She could try and make sense of the increasingly bizarre situation later, but for now there was at last something that she could do. “Stand aside,” she commanded. The urchins immediately let go of the headless creature, scampering away in every direction. When they were clear, she charged at the grotesque figure, throwing herself at it with her full force. There was an almighty crash as they collided with the wall on the opposite side of the street. Beneath her grip on the creature’s frame she felt parts of its body come loose.

They landed in an untidy heap. Raven rolled quickly away and sprang back to her feet, but saw that such haste was unnecessary; the creature was still at last. All the same, she poked it tentatively with the toe of one boot to make sure.

“So,” she said, turning, when she had satisfied herself that her assailant was not about to lurch to its feet once more. “Not to sound ungrateful, but who are all you people?”

One of the larger street-children, his hair cropped closely against his scalp, stepped forward from the rest. His face split into a gap-toothed smile. “Name’s Jax,” he told her. “Titch peeped yer comin’ out of Ulthwick’s place this afternoon. We don’t see many with your, er, colourin’... less than we used to leastways... so he followed yer to the inn where you left yer boyfriend. We’ve had eyes on you ever since.”

Raven ignored the description of her relationship with Cole, and the suggestive leer that had accompanied it, and instead thought about her feelings of being watched that evening. She supposed that it was good to have it confirmed that it was not simply paranoia. “Well, that’s the how of it out of the way, but why? What interest do you have in us?”

The boy called Jax sniffed dismissively, then wiped the back of one hand across his leaking nose. “None,” he replied. “But this devil killed a mate o’ mine not long back. Seemed to me that if we followed yer, more than likely we’d run into him sooner or later. Any that takes one of us gets paid back in kind.”

“Fair enough.” Raven took stock of the boy standing before her. Probably no older than ten, judging by his height, and yet he stood a clear head above any of the younger street-children behind him. But despite his appearance of youth, his eyes were old before their time. They sat above his easy smile like chips of flint. Not eyes that engendered trust, though in this matter she found she believed his words. “And what about him?” She pointed at the lanky young man who had joined them last. He was sat on his haunches, poking at the remains of the fallen creature.

Jax shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest.”

“He’s a friend,” Cole said. “Caspian, one of the novices from the Crag. I’m sure I’ve spoken of him.”

“It rings a bell,” she conceded. “What is he doing here?”

“Helping to save your life, I believe,” the young man said in a quiet voice. From within the depths of the creature’s crumpled cloak, he lifted a cylindrical object about the length of her forearm. Strange runes had been carved into its surface, which glowed faintly green in the moonlight. “As to why I’m in the city, that’s a long tale probably best saved until we’re off the street and safe from the eyes of the city watch.”

Raven approached him, her gaze drawn to the strange cylinder. “What is that?” she asked. “I’ve never seen its like before.”

Caspian turned the object in his hands, examining it closely. “I have.”

Now that the immediate danger had passed, Raven looked down at the broken figure. Around the spot where it had fallen were other objects; small bands of metal, coiled springs and steel discs no larger than a coin, the edge of which were ridged with blunt teeth. “What is all this?”

“Something I didn’t expect to find here,” Caspian replied. “I’m not sure yet what it means, but I don’t think that it’s anything good.” He stood, secreting the long cylinder in a hidden pocket. “Leave the rest,” he added. “It will leave the guards that find it scratching their heads I’m sure, but I doubt it can do them any harm now.”

Cole stooped and picked up another, larger object. “What about this?” He tossed it towards her. “Have it mounted and it would make a lovely trophy.”

She glanced at the object she held. It was the severed head of the creature. She saw now that it was not a mask at all; where its face should have been was a smooth plate of blacksteel, polished to such a shine that its surface was like a mirror. As she looked down, her own face stared back at her. “Caspian, I think you should tell me everything you know,” she said.

The young man peered anxiously along the street. “Gladly, but not here. The threat that caused the curfew is past, I believe, but I’d rather not try explaining that to any guardsmen that happen across us.”

“Let’s return to the inn,” Cole suggested. “The room is private enough and it isn’t too far from here.”

Unable to think of a better alternative, Raven nodded. The three of them went to leave, when the street children suddenly surrounded them. That many of them still held the weapons they had attacked the strange creature with was a fact not lost on her.

“About that...” Jax sounded almost apologetic. “We was asked to bring back any survivors. Somebody wants to speak to yer.”

Raven sighed inwardly. Why was nothing ever simple? “Do you think you can stop us leaving?” In truth, even if she were not exhausted after the fight, she would not have raised her hands against the children. But she hoped the threat of it would be sufficient.

It wasn’t. “Mebbe, mebbe not,” Jax replied speculatively. Then his face split into another lop-sided grin. “Might just be easier to come with us, though. You’ll be safe enough. We wouldn’t harm the one who helped us get revenge for ol’ Rawls.”

He gestured at the alley she had already ventured into twice that night. Cole looked at her questioningly, and she nodded. It seemed they had little choice but to meet whoever it was that pulled the strings of the imperial city’s street-children.