Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (10 page)
“Doesn’t it hurt? Being tattooed, I mean?” Mairead asked.
“It’s not as bad as you would think.”
“Do the tribal women get the tattoos also?”
“Yes. It’s not for no reason. All of the tattoos mean something.”
She shuddered. “I don’t think I could do that—be tattooed like that.”
“You could if you were a tribal woman. It would just be a way of life.”
“Perhaps. How do you do that so quickly?”
He peeled the skin away from the deer’s back. “Practice. I’ve butchered hundreds of deer and elk. It’s not hard once you know how. A sharp knife helps.” He started to slice meat free of the body. “You seem to have put some of your grief behind you the last few days.”
She sat on the mossy bank near the road. “I am trying. I knew I would have to leave the sayada someday, so I had already prepared myself for that. I just didn’t think it would happen so brutally.” She paused. “Do you ever wonder what you might have had if Kiern had not been attacked?”
A large steak came off in his hand, and he set it on a cloth. “Not really. I miss my father, but I didn’t have any other reason to stay.”
“You never wanted to marry?”
His knife faltered. Memories of Aine filled his head.
I did the right thing—she needed someone faithful. Tame.
“No. I’m not interested in marrying.”
“What about children?”
“That’s too much responsibility.”
“How did you know Donal and Aileen?”
“They let me work on their farm when I left Taura.”
“Is that all?”
What did Aileen tell her?
“No, but the rest is a story for another time.”
“Those creatures—what were they?”
He turned to her, his hands sticky with blood and the scent of the animal hovering around him. “I don’t suppose you’ll let this go, will you?”
“Why would I? Aren’t you curious?”
“Don’t you have prayers or something holy to do?”
“Connor.”
He lowered his knife at the regal insistence in her voice.
“What was that place?”
His conscience nagged at him. “It was a farm once. I don’t know what it was when we were there, but I think you’re right. The creatures we saw fly away were probably Syrafi.”
Her eyes softened. “Why didn’t you want to talk about it?”
Because you don’t need to know about all of that.
“Because it worries me. The whole village has changed. Donal—or the creature I thought was Donal—said slavers came and took the young and strong and left the old ones alone. What happened to the real Donal and Aileen?”
She sat quiet for a moment. “Their family meant a lot to you.”
“Donal and Aileen took me in and gave me work. When I was there, they were real people. They were good to me.”
“Why did you leave?”
Ravens gathered in the trees around them, drawn by the scent of the dead animal. Connor went back to work, pressing back the memories of other scents, other bodies. His chest tightened. “One of their daughters thought she loved me. I hurt her.”
You will be my first—my raven.
The Morrag’s voice whispered in his head.
“Aileen told me that you’re the reason they still had Aine.”
A spate of Brae Sidh curses ran through his head. “Yes, but what she didn’t say was that their daughter wouldn’t have been in trouble if it weren’t for me.” He waved his hand; a smattering of blood flew onto the road, and a raven dove down to investigate. “Enough. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s in the past. Aine is fine. He said she’s married and has children and a home and all of the things I couldn’t give her. I don’t know why the Syrafi were there, but I’ll assume they told us the truth about Aine and that Donal and Aileen are all right. In any case, they helped us, so for that I am grateful.”
She was silent for a long time. “Aileen called you Connor Reid. I thought your surname was SilverAir.”
He held back a curse. “It is. I made up a human surname when I worked for the Mac Raes. It was just the first thing that came to mind.” He went back to the deer.
The sounds of the horses and the croaking ravens hovered for a moment. “Do you have any other tattoos?”
“Just one.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a raven feather—right here.” He pointed at the inside of his left thigh with the hilt of his knife.
“The ravenmark?”
He fumbled the knife in surprise. “You know about it?”
“Only a bit—what I’ve read from the ancient stories of the great battle.” She folded her arms. “It’s not a myth either, then?”
He barked a laugh. “No. It’s definitely not a myth.”
“How were you marked?”
“I had a vision when I went through the tribal initiation. I saw a flock of ravens feeding on carrion. The ravens turned into a woman, and she put her hand on my leg. When she took it away, the mark was there.”
“What does it mean?”
“The raven is a sign of vengeance. The tribes believe that when an injustice has been committed, the earth demands the blood of the one who committed it. They believe the ravenmarked wield the power of the avenging earth.” He waited while she studied him, her arms folded, her head tipped to one side.
She looks at me without judgment. Even my own mother can’t do that.
“Doesn’t it frighten you—traveling with a raven?”
“No. I feel safe with you. I know you wouldn’t harm me.” She smiled. “I trust you, Connor.”
“You’ve known me for three days and already you trust me?”
“You’ve had a dozen or more chances to harm me and you haven’t. You take your work seriously. I know I’m safe with you.”
She’s so innocent.
“Mairead—” He stopped as the breeze brought an odor of decay.
Rot—not the deer.
The hair stood up on his neck. He drew his sword. “There is an evil thing here. Get into the trees.”
The horses tossed their heads and stomped anxious hooves. He snatched their reins and pushed them and Mairead into the trees. He held a finger to his lips. A screech split the late afternoon skies, and a vast pair of black wings cast a chilling shadow down to the ground. “Don’t move.”
The massive raven-beast dove without warning. Connor shut out Mairead’s cries and channeled his focus toward the creature. He swung at the creature’s talons, catching a toe before the creature rose again. It screeched with the sting of the injury, circled, and dove again. Connor swung. He caught its wing with his sword and ducked. Dark blood sprayed and a mass of black feathers hit the ground.
The beast fell, one wing limp and useless at its side. Connor charged, avoiding talons and the other wing as he swung for the neck. It jumped backward, and he scratched it. The creature’s good wing struck out and knocked him down onto his back. Breath rushed out of his lungs; his vision blurred. Mairead screamed. Connor shook his head, struggling to sit up. Warm air passed over him, and his nose filled with the stench. He gagged, forced his sword up for defense—
The creature’s shriek sent a cold chill through Connor’s bones. A massive white owl hovered over the black bird, its talons secure in the flesh of the raven beast’s back. The Syrafi’s hooked beak struck at the beast’s face. Bloody sockets remained where eyes had been. The owl struck again and again, shredding the black bird’s flesh and cratering its neck until the creature’s screams stopped. It collapsed in a heap, and a dark, inky cloud rose from its body.
The bloodied white bird lifted on massive wings and circled Connor and Mairead. It cried out once and then flew north, disappearing over the trees.
Connor shook his head, trying to clear his vision and his hearing. He took a deep breath and stood. His sword dripped with foul black blood. “You all right?” he asked Mairead.
She stood with her back flat against a tree, her face pale. “I—I thought you would die—I thought it was going to kill you. What was that thing?”
“Ferimin. They serve Namha and the Forbidden.”
“You’ve seen them before?”
“No. But it’s not hard to figure out they’re not friendly.”
She let out a breath. “How did it know where to find us?”
“I don’t know. Someone must be tracking you—or me.” He wiped his sword clean with moss and put on his cloak. “I’m not going to rely on divine help. We need to find water and a more secure place to spend the night.” He picked up the steaks he’d carved, and they mounted the horses and picked their way into the trees. By the time the sun set, they’d found a sheltered grove near a small stream.
They both dismounted. Mairead startled when they heard another screech in the distance. “How many are there?”
“I don’t know.” It screeched again. “We can’t build a fire tonight. I don’t want it to see us,” Connor said.
She stepped closer to him. “It’s angry.”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t lost anyone I’ve escorted yet. We’ll be all right.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
***
Emrys slipped off the back of the Ferimin when it landed near the bloody carcass of its mate. “Feed yourself,” he told it. The beast lifted its face to the sky and gave one long, keening screech before it sank its beak into the body and tore away a strip of bloody flesh. While it ate, Emrys walked to the edge of the trees and crouched near the deer carcass.
The Syrafi had killed the Ferimin, but Emrys had no doubt that the man would have finished the job given enough time. He needed only to draw on his power, and the Ferimin had no chance against him.
Why didn’t he draw his power?
Emrys twisted his mouth.
If I attack him now, I’ll ensure my own defeat. Even if he’s not using his power, he’s still stronger than I am. I need strength.
But the raven had to be separated from the girl. Every moment they were together strengthened the protection around her, and as long as she was protected, Emrys couldn’t touch her. She had to be betrayed. He needed someone else to turn her over to him.
He turned to the Ferimin behind him. It lifted its head and cawed. Its blood-matted feathers shimmered with a dull sheen in the rising moon. “Go back to your mistress. I have no more need of you.”
The thing screeched again, lifted its wings, and rose into the sky. Emrys pulled his hood over his head. He lifted his nose and smelled a fire in the distance. Thieves, slavers—it didn’t matter. They could deliver the girl. He fixed his mind on the fire and carved a space between the elements.
The Taurin soldiers jumped to their feet when he slipped out of the elements and the light closed the gap. He held up a hand. The seven men stood still and wary. He lowered his hood. They quailed when they saw his eyes. “Your king sent you after the girl—the Taurin heir.”
One—the leader, he assumed—snorted. “A fool’s quest.”
Emrys picked out a man with a craggy face and a medium build, and in two steps, he had his hand around the man’s throat. Life faded from the man before he could cry out, and Emrys drew the Taurin soldier’s soul into himself. The man’s transgressions were dark and vile; they filled Emrys with strength. He turned back to the others as the limp body fell. They all took a step back. “I know where she is.”
I cannot be what he is.
I am death. He is music and light.
— Queen Brenna’s diary, on Aiden, Year of Creation 4989
Connor splashed water onto his face and chest. He crouched near the stream, resting his forearms on his knees, and rubbed a hand across his jaw.
It’s too easy to find us—too much blood and animal scent. I don’t like this.
The forest sounded normal, but a scent hovered around the clearing he’d shared with Mairead, and he couldn’t place the source.
Not another Ferimin—there’s not enough rot. Bear? Wolf? It’s not animal. Men?
He refilled his waterskin and straightened.
I don’t like it.
Sleep had consisted of a few snatches of dozing against a tree. Mairead had slept next to him, torn between staying close for safety and warmth and moving away for propriety. When her head had bobbed so much that she couldn’t stay upright, he helped her lie down and covered her with a blanket. While she slept, he alternately paced the clearing, checked the horses, toyed with a dagger, and sat down to doze for a few minutes.
It’s just being in the Wilds again,
he told himself.
You’ve gotten soft. Being with Helene and taking easy jobs has ruined you.
He turned away from the stream to see Mairead kneeling nearby in her morning prayer pose. He grimaced and pulled a leather jerkin, spiked bracers, and a bronze torc from his pack. By the time she stood and approached, he was lacing up the bracers. “Morning.”
She gestured. “Is there a point to the new attire?”
“Intimidation. Sometimes you can avoid a fight just by looking like a jackass.” He picked up two extra daggers and slipped them into his boots. “Let’s get back to the road. We can eat while we ride.” He tucked his flail into a loop on his saddle.
She mounted her horse. “Did you see any more of those creatures?”
“No. I think the trees sheltered us. Now we have to watch for thieves.” He mounted. “Something doesn’t smell right.”
They started to ride out of the trees. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and lifted his face. “I can’t explain it. The Sidh talent helps me sense things in the air that others can’t. Something just doesn’t smell right about this place.”
“Is that how you first sensed the creature yesterday? An odor?”
“Decay. Death. The wind carried it to me. It didn’t smell like an animal decaying. It smelled like evil. Like the death of a soul.” Connor’s skin prickled with the weight of the forest.
Something is watching us.
He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. Birds still fluttered through the high branches around them, but he heard nothing in the underbrush.
As if there’s a predator nearby.
Mairead rode silent beside him, her knuckles white on the reins and her face pale.
“Pull up your hood,” he said.
She startled at his voice. “What? Oh, yes.” She pulled her hood up and frowned. They emerged where Haman’s Road cut a wide swath under the thick canopy of trees, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Someone is watching us.”
He nodded and put a hand on a dagger in his belt. He reined in. “Show yourselves.”
Six armed men stepped out of the trees, fanning out to block the road. All of them wore some sloppy version of royal Taurin livery. One man wore brown woolen breeches instead of the normal black. Three wore padded armor under green hauberks, two wore leather jerkins, and none of them had shaved or donned a helmet. Connor grimaced. “You are the most motley group of soldiers I’ve ever seen,” he said. “If you were my men, I’d whip you all and make you mend clothes with the camp women.”
Mairead’s voice quivered. “C-Connor?”
One of the men drew a sword. “By order of His Majesty Braedan Mac Corin of Taura, this woman is commanded to accompany us back to stand trial for crimes against the crown.”
Connor snorted. “Crimes against the crown? What do you think a girl like this could possibly do to threaten a king?”
“She conspired to overthrow his majesty and take the throne for herself. She claims to be descended from ancient kings and queens.”
Connor laughed and gestured to Mairead. “
This
girl? Look at her. She’s pretty, but noble? Hardly. And she doesn’t have two coppers to rub together. How do you think she’s formed this massive rebellion?”
The man’s eyes darted between Connor and Mairead, and the point of his sword dipped. “I’m under orders—”
“Do you think I give a damn what your orders are? I’m not turning this girl over to a group of thugs with nothing but an outrageous claim.” He drew a dagger. “I suggest you move on.”
Inside his chest, the familiar ache returned.
Yes, raven,
the Morrag whispered.
Destroy. Rake them open. Kill.
I won’t kill them if they don’t attack. I won’t be yours.
Three men put hands on swords, and one drew a flail and started to twirl it. The leader pointed at Mairead with his sword. “We’re not moving on without her.”
This is just a job. This isn’t the Morrag—it’s just your job.
Connor put his hand on another dagger. “Last warning: leave now, or die.”
“I have orders.”
In a quick, practiced move, Connor flipped the daggers and spun them toward two of the soldiers. The blades landed in a chest and a belly, killing one and driving the other to his knees.
I warned them.
Connor dismounted and drew his sword to meet the onslaught of the four remaining soldiers. In his head, the Morrag cackled, exulting in the fight.
Yes, raven. Claw them open. Tear them. They deserve death.
The four men bore down on him, but they were as unpracticed and sloppy as their uniforms. The first who drove toward him with a blade out met a foot of Connor’s sword through the midsection. Connor pushed him off the sword and onto the ground. Behind him, a whisper of air ruffled his hair, and he ducked, spun, and met another man’s leg with a dagger. The man roared and dropped to his knees. Connor cut off his scream with a strike through the neck.
The last two soldiers were too close to him to swing his sword. He dropped his sword, drew a dagger from his boot, and waited. “You can still leave,” he said. “I won’t pursue you.”
Why do you wait, raven?
Her voice grew frustrated.
Rake them open.
The soldiers drove at him from either side, and he spun again, striking one man through the head with both his dagger and the spiked bracer. Bone crunched and blood sprayed; the man fell, unconscious. The last man wore nothing but a hauberk and undertunic, and Connor’s final dagger thrust drove easily under the ribs and into the man’s heart. A gush of warmth covered Connor’s hand as life faded from the man’s eyes.
Connor drew long, deep breaths. The Morrag’s satisfaction eased the ache in Connor’s chest.
Yes, my raven.
I didn’t kill them for you, bitch.
Behind her exultant laugh, he heard the screams of dying men and the sobs of a terrified girl.
He shook his head.
Focus. This is just a job. Just your job.
He checked the bodies. Four dead, two still alive. If the unconscious man ever woke, he wouldn’t be able to eat, and he’d likely be a simpleton from the damage to his head. Connor knelt and drove his knife into the back of the man’s skull; he twitched and went limp.
The first soldier had pulled Connor’s dagger from his belly, and blood soaked the ground beneath him. Connor knelt and examined the wound, dimly aware that Mairead had dismounted and joined him. ““You’re dying,” he said. “Your choice now is whether you want a quick end or a slow one. I need answers.”
The man shivered. “End it—”
“I will as soon as you give me answers. How did you find her?”
“Dark man. Campfire. He led us—” He coughed, moaning with the pain. “Mercy. Give me death, please.”
“Who was this man?”
“Don’t know—swear I don’t. Comes and goes at will—in flashes of light. Please, kill me.” Another coughing fit overtook him. “My sons—gods, my sons.”
Connor nodded. He picked up his dagger. “This will be quick.” He turned the man to position the tip of the blade at the base of his skull.
“No, wait!”
Connor’s hand faltered. Mairead knelt on the other side of the man and took his hand. “What’s your name?”
“Merwyn.”
She put one hand on his forehead and closed her eyes. “Alshada, forgive Merwyn his crimes. Bring him to your rest. Bring him peace in his final moments. Care for his family, and give them peace to know he died doing his duty, that he was brave to the end.”
The soldier’s face filled with gratitude, and Mairead opened her eyes and gave the man a sad smile. Merwyn’s eyes watered. “I’m sorry,” he said. The color drained from his face.
“I forgive you.” She brushed the hair from his forehead. “You were doing your duty to your king. I hold you no ill will.”
Her hand on his forehead seemed to calm him. He closed his eyes. “Let him do it. Please, lady.”
“I’ll hold your hand.” She nodded to Connor.
His hand found the hilt of the blade, but he hesitated, staring at Mairead. He searched for words, but could only gape at her. Merwyn gave a choking sob.
Focus. Just a job.
He drove the dagger into Merwyn’s skull, severing nerves and ending pain. Merwyn tensed, twitched, and went limp.
Connor stood. “What was that?”
“It was me giving a dying man some measure of peace. Why?”
“He tried to take you back to Braedan.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“And you
prayed
for him. With him. You forgave him—or said you did. What was that?”
She stood and met his eyes. “Mercy.”
Mercy?
He stepped closer to her. She stiffened, but she didn’t step back or lower her gaze. “Do you think what I did wasn’t merciful?”
“You can practice mercy your way. I’ll do it mine.” She pointed at the dead men. “What will we do with these?”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he knelt again to wipe his dagger clean on a corner of Merwyn’s clothes. “I’ll drag them off the road.”
“I’ll help you.” She picked up Merwyn’s hands and started to drag him away, struggling with the weight.
He’s not a small man, and he’s dead weight. What’s the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted? A small child?
He dropped his head for a moment.
This woman will be my undoing.
He put a hand on her arm. “Get his feet.”
She nodded and picked up the man’s feet as Connor picked him up under the arms, and together, they moved him to the side of the road.
When they had moved all of the men he’d killed, he stopped her from mounting her horse. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I won’t be useless.” She put both feet on the ground.
“Useless. Is that what you think you are?”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I just think of you as a woman I’m supposed to protect and take to Sveklant. Whether you’re useless or not doesn’t really enter into it. I’m just doing my job.” He nodded toward the dead men. “Their story of the strange dark man who appears in flashes of light bothers me.”
Mairead shivered. “I read that the Forbidden can appear and disappear in flashes of light. The stories say when a king returns to Taura, the Forbidden will rise to power again.” She paused. “Do you think it’s true? Have they returned?”
Connor grunted and folded his arms.
They never left. They just hid for a very long time.
“Do you know much about the earth magic?”
Her face paled again. “N-no. I only know the pag—the tribes believe the earth has power.”
He nodded. “In the beginning of the world, Alshada created the earth with a spirit of her own, perfectly balanced. But during the war between the magical races, when Alshada created the chasm and cast Namha into it, the earthspirit was divided—split into a lifespirit and a spirit of vengeance and death. To keep the spirit of death away, the tribes perform blood sacrifices.”
“Human sacrifice?” Her voice rose to a squeak.
He laughed. “No. Gods, no. Animals. The annual hunt is part of it. The spirit of vengeance—the Morrag—demands blood to pay for the transgressions. For now, she takes animal blood. But when the tribes can no longer satisfy her with sacrifices, it will be the sign that the Forbidden have returned to power. She’ll need more than animal blood to sate her.”
She folded her arms and bit her lip. “The Morrag. And you are ravenmarked.”
He nodded.
“And the stories say only the ravenmarked can defeat the Forbidden.”
“They do say that.”
She let out a long breath. “This is a lot to believe.”
“Believe it or not. It’s the truth.” He paused. “If the Forbidden are chasing you, this journey will be a lot more dangerous than I thought. I can fight Braedan’s men every day if I must, but the Forbidden? I don’t know.”
“If you taught me how to fight, I could help you.”
He laughed. “Teach you to fight?”
“Yes. What’s funny about that?”