Raven Flight (2 page)

The Ladder went up the wall of a high, narrow cavern. At the top, the steps opened out to a broad ledge. People said that on a good day the view from up there was breathtaking: a sweeping vista of snowcapped peaks, high fells, and deep valleys. If you were lucky, you might see eagles soaring on the currents of air.

I had never been up before. Clearly the steps had been carved out from the rock by someone with a wicked desire to challenge folk to the breaking point. Either that or their creator had not imagined the use Tali might make of them.

“… ten. Ready? One, two, three, go!”

I climbed. I might have been almost too tired to move, but I could still obey an order.

“Good,” Tali said as I reached the hundredth step and bent double, gasping for air.

“Thanks,” I wheezed. From her, this was extreme praise.

“Don’t waste your breath talking. Rest for the count of fifteen. Then we’re heading for the top.”

She counted. I breathed. In the chill of the cavern, I was drenched with sweat.

“… fourteen, fifteen. Ready? One, two, three, go! Pick up the pace, Neryn! Move those legs!”

There were one hundred and twenty-seven steps in all. By the time we reached the ledge at the top, every part of my aching body wanted to collapse. I held myself upright, leaning back on the rock wall, working to slow my breathing. If there was anything Tali despised, it was lack of
self-control. And she had a habit of springing surprises. It didn’t pay to lose concentration, even for a moment. She was perfectly capable of making me go all the way back to the bottom and start again.

“You can sit,” she said, moving out along the ledge and seating herself with her back against the rock wall and her long legs stretched toward the sheer drop. “You’re not a warrior; I do make allowances for that. And the way down is hard on the knees.”

Since she had given permission, I sat down beside her. The air was icy. It was a still day, without the whipping northerly that so often came up in the mornings. Low cloud wrapped the mountain closely. No view today beyond a few rocks here, a patch of barren hillside there. Shadowfell sometimes felt like the end of the world.

“What lies north of here?” I asked when I had enough breath to speak. “Are there settlements beyond those mountains?”

“Why do you ask?”

“It looks empty. Trackless.” When I had discovered I was a Caller, with the ability to summon the Good Folk to the aid of humankind, I had also learned that I must seek guidance in my craft from the Guardians of Alban. These ancient beings of great power had retreated to places of hiding when Keldec came to the throne. They could not bear to see our peaceful realm turned to a place of fear and cruelty. If I could find them, their teaching would enable me to use my gift to the full, and wisely. I’d met one Guardian already. The Master of Shadows had found me and tested
me, then told me in his cryptic way what I must do next. I had three journeys to make and three more Guardians to find: the Lord of the North, the Hag of the Isles, the White Lady. North, West, East. “The Lord of the North must live in those mountains, or beyond them, so when the winter is over, I’ll have to go there.”

“Without a guide, you could wander about in that area until you died of starvation,” Tali said flatly.

“I can forage. I can fish. I know how to make a snare.”

“It’s not easy terrain. There are few settlements, few good tracks, few bridges. Even in summer, not much grows there.”

“At least there will be no Cull and no king’s men to contend with, if the north is so empty.”

“One thing’s certain,” Tali said. “You can’t do the trip on your own, no matter how much of a warrior we make of you by springtime. Regan seldom sends people out alone anyway, Flint being the obvious exception. He’ll insist you take someone with you as pathfinder and bodyguard.” She stared out over the cloud-veiled mountains. “If I were you, I’d go west first and seek out this Hag of the Isles,” she said. “Save the north for summer. Or do you need to follow a particular order?”

“The Master of Shadows didn’t say anything about that. I only know that I need to learn something different from each Guardian.”

“Mm-hm.” Tali was noncommittal; I could not tell what she was thinking. She lifted an arm ringed with tattoos—spirals, swirls, flying birds to match the ones
around her neck—and pushed her dark hair back behind her ear. “It’s a long way to travel, Neryn. Perhaps farther than you realize. The north … it’s an unforgiving place. We’ve lost a lot of good comrades there.”

“I suppose I could go west first.” That would mean retracing the path I had taken to come to Shadowfell, a path full of difficult memories. Still, I had to do it sometime. If I went west, there was a possibility—slim but real—that I might see Flint. The thought of him was both joy and sorrow, for when he had left Shadowfell, we had spoken sweet words of forgiveness and hope. We had not spoken of love, not in so many words, for soft feelings were forbidden among Regan’s Rebels. But something deep and real had passed between us. Now Flint would be back at Winterfort and living his perilous life as Regan’s eyes at the heart of the king’s court. Keldec’s Enforcer; Keldec’s confidant; Keldec’s most trusted man. A rebel spy. Treading a very thin line, and in constant danger. I still dared to hope he might return to Shadowfell in time to travel with me in spring. But, knowing he would need to explain away the loss of an entire troop of Enforcers, I doubted the king would let him leave court again so soon.

“Have you thought of asking your uncanny friends to go with you?” Tali asked. “Or one of those folk that are supposed to be living downstairs?”

“The Folk Below, Sage calls them. You sound as if you don’t believe in them.”

Tali gave me a sideways look. “I’m not stupid, Neryn. I know there’s something in these caves apart from us.
Especially now I’ve seen your unusual friends. We’d never have survived in this place without fey help. But they can’t be down that spiral stair. It leads nowhere. You’ve seen it for yourself. The passageway at the bottom ends in a solid rock wall. Yet Sage insists that’s where they live.”

I had nothing to say to that. Not even Sage had been able to raise so much as a squeak from the Folk Below.

“So why not ask them to go with you? Sage and the other one? Their magic could help protect you on the way, couldn’t it?”

“I don’t want to ask them. One of their kind died protecting me, on the way up here. You know iron is a bane to the Good Folk, as deadly as poison. Sage’s dear friend died with a chain wrapped around his neck and an Enforcer holding it tight. It was hideous. Cruel. He was just a small being, a creature of the woodland, and he stood up to the king’s men so I could escape. Sage has given up a lot for me already. Red Cap has a little baby to look after. If I ask them to come with me and it happens again, I don’t think I can …”

I felt the weight of Tali’s gaze on me. “Believe me,” she said, “I know how that feels. It’s something you learn to live with, because it’s the nature of what we do. This war won’t be won without losses. Regan will balance up the value of your gift against the risk of someone getting hurt protecting you, and he’ll insist you have a guard. If not one of the Good Folk, then one of us. You’ll have to swallow your scruples.”

When I said nothing, she went on, “The north isn’t
entirely empty. There’s a regional chieftain there, Lannan, sometimes called Lannan Long-Arm, with a number of district chieftains answering to him. Lannan is kin to the leaders in the northern isles. We’ve been told his personal fighting force is substantial.” She hesitated. “Our negotiations with Lannan are at a delicate stage. Of Alban’s eight regional chieftains, this is the most powerful. He hasn’t attended the Gathering for several years; his relationship with the king is less than cordial. Distance is his friend. Keldec’s unlikely to send a war band rushing up there only to see them lost in the mountains.”

There was a pause.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Neryn?”

“That whoever wins Lannan over to their side has a big advantage. Yes?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Does that mean Regan is traveling north himself in spring?”

Tali shook her head. “No need. We’ve a team talking to Lannan already. There’s more to Regan’s Rebels than this small band at Shadowfell, Neryn. This is the center of the operation, yes; Regan is the beating heart of the rebellion. But we couldn’t do it with so few. We’re spread out in many parts of Alban, in places where a single dissenting voice has grown into a force for change. We do have to be careful. You know what happens when the king gets the merest whiff of disobedience.”

I knew all too well. I had seen villages burned, the innocent put to the sword, leaders who stood up for justice
summarily executed. I had lost my entire family to the Cull, the seasonal sweep of Alban’s villages that weeded out the rebellious and those with canny gifts. Keldec feared magic above all else. And yet he used it for his own ends. His Enthrallers, of whom Flint was one, were able to work an enchantment to turn someone who had displeased the king into a flawlessly loyal subject. Sometimes, though, the charm went wrong, and the victim became a witless husk of his former self. That too I had seen. It had been the worst night of my life.

“If Regan’s teams are spread out all over Alban,” I asked, “how do they communicate? How can you put a complete strategy in place when the time comes?”

“We have folk here and there who carry messages. Trusted folk. Believe it or not, there are some of those in Alban still. But, yes, it is a weakness. These things take time.”

I thought of the boy who had brought messages to Flint, when he and I had spent the long days and nights of my illness in a little hut halfway up the Rush valley. I had wondered about that boy; wondered if he was like my brother, who had died with a spear through his chest when the Enforcers raided our home village, less than four years ago. Only a fool or a hero would dare carry messages for the rebels. Perhaps such folk were both heroes and fools.

“It’s not a quick process,” Tali said. “Winning the chieftains over, I mean. Those who are prepared to support a rebellion dare not be open about their intentions. In every stronghold there’s someone ready to slip word to the Enforcers for a few pieces of silver. And once they do
that, whether their information is true or false, the king’s wrath comes down like an ill-aimed hammer, striking innocent and guilty alike. All of us want the rebellion soon, as soon as possible, before people are too worn down to care anymore. But a word to the wrong ears could wreck the whole endeavor.” She glanced at me sideways, her dark eyes narrowed. “That means no blundering into unknown parts and saying too much, whether it’s a chieftain’s hall or a cave housing an uncanny creature of some kind.”

“I wasn’t intending to do any blundering. And I’ll be staying away from chieftains’ halls. I’m hoping to avoid human settlements altogether, if I can. But I do need to go, and go as soon as the season allows. If Regan wants my gift as a tool for the rebellion, I must find the Guardians and complete the Caller’s training. Though by the time I get back down the Ladder, I may not be able to walk to my bedchamber, let alone all the way to the western isles.”

“By springtime,” said Tali, standing and reaching out a strong hand to pull me to my feet, “you’ll be running up and down these steps without a second thought. You’re tougher than you look; must be those years on the road. If you’re heading west first, maybe we should be practicing swimming.”

“Wonderful,” I said, not mentioning that I could not swim at all. “Where would we be doing that, in some icebound mountain tarn?”

“Don’t put it past me.” The merest trace of a smile touched Tali’s features. “Now we’re heading back down. Don’t be too cautious, keep the pace steady, and lean back
slightly as you go. I’d prefer not to have to catch you. I won’t count, but I want you to imagine there’s a big fellow with a big weapon right on your tail. Dawdle, and he’ll make sure you get to the bottom uncomfortably fast.”

Once I began training with Tali, my daily routine changed. The Ladder was in heavy use during the day, with everyone at Shadowfell but Milla and Eva required to complete a certain number of ascents and descents to maintain their fitness. I took to rising early and going up and down while everything was quiet. The only ones on the Ladder before me were Tali and her brother Fingal, who fitted in the same combat training as everyone else. People said Shadowfell’s healer had a rare skill with the knife, and not only for surgery. As for Tali, she worked everyone hard, and herself hardest of all.

When the folk of Shadowfell were not on the Ladder or in the training yard, they were busy with other work: helping Milla and Eva maintain the household, keeping weaponry in top condition, fashioning maps, making plans for the spring’s trips out from Shadowfell. I wondered, sometimes, if Regan had established this routine so there would be less time for arguments. Disputes did tend to break out when a small community was cooped up in a confined space, as we were over the long highland winter. It was rare for anyone to venture outside, apart from their activities in the training yard with its sheltering stone walls. The fells were blanketed with snow; ice made the paths treacherous.

I learned new skills. Andra, a strapping red-haired
fighter of one-and-twenty who could match the best of the men in hand-to-hand combat, trained me to use my staff as a weapon. Muscular, hard-faced Gort, who had once been a chieftain’s master-at-arms, taught me to wield short and long daggers in self-defense. I was not trained alongside the new recruits, who had been given a trial period over the winter to prove themselves. Regan had ordered that my lessons be conducted in private. Knowing how vital it was for me to be ready when spring came, I worked hard and asked no questions.

Every few days Sage came to the door of the rebel headquarters, and the guards put away their iron weapons, respecting what she was. They would call me, and I would go to talk to my friend in a little chamber set aside for this purpose. Sometimes Red Cap came with her, but not often. His infant was still very small, and it was cold out in the snow, going to and fro. My fey friends did not like to come farther inside our dwelling, for there was iron everywhere, not only weaponry but Milla’s kitchen ladles and tongs, the soup pot, the trivets, and other paraphernalia.