Raven's Hand (13 page)

With no time to solve such a minor mystery
now, he slung the scabbard over his shoulder, found Esmeralda’s
saddle and prepared her for their departure. Moments later, he
heard the sound of soldiers approaching the inn. As they piled into
the Mangy Cur, he and Esmeralda tore away through the street,
parting an increasingly growing crowd of concerned citizens who had
gathered at the alarm call.

He had no time for questions from soldiers.
He could not be detained. He still had Eye Patch to find and other
matters to deal with before delivering this blessed sword to Prince
Nathan. The chief problem now was how to unbind a sword blessed by
Eliam after his own blood had bound the blade to him.

I had no idea what had become of the
assassin, Kane. Surely, he wouldn’t have left his horse behind.
That he might actually have been killed seemed the most impossible
thing of all, especially when I had been left unharmed sitting in
this clearing. So, where was he, and what should I do now?

Killian was real? This astonishing thought
broke into my mind, overriding my present predicament. It was
impossible, and yet my visions had never lied to me before. I
couldn’t understand it. Had I been dreaming of a real young man all
this time? What if he also had been dreaming of me? It seemed
preposterous, but I couldn’t let go of that thought.

And what of his dilemma? If Killian was real
then he was in terrible danger. Men were trying to kill him. I had
to do something. I had to try. The man of my dreams—the only love I
had ever known, even if it was in a dream—might die tonight. I
could not stay there.

Moments ago, I had been resigned to my fate.
I would have become the bond of Prince Nathan; a slave to him and
his queen for life. I would have been used for my abilities as a
daughter of Eliam and, at his discretion, for my body. A
concubine—unloved, a pawn, a toy, a possession—but nothing more. I
had been resigned to my fate, but now I had seen Killian alive in
the real world facing real danger, possibly in the city of
Rainier.

But what could I do to help him? My resolve
hardened within me. I had power. I was a daughter of Eliam. He had
given me my power and my visions. Surely, it was his will that I
not only understand that Killian was real, but that I also try to
save him. And, if it was the will of Eliam for me to try, then I
would also succeed.

I took a last glance at the black stallion.
It raised its head to me from the tufts of grass it had been
grazing greedily upon. My eyes narrowed. It cocked its head, almost
as if it couldn’t believe my attempting what I was about to do. I
did it anyway, bolting out of the clearing through the bushes and
away into the night as fast as my legs would carry me. I heard
equine protests following me, but I ignored the animal. If I had my
way, I would be far away before it could alert the assassin of my
escape.

The moon lit my way, but my path took me
through brambles and briars and trees of various sizes—all of them
attempting to bar my escape. I realized that I must be making a
terrible ruckus in the process, but I didn’t care. Killian was real
and he needed me.

I paused, exhausted, and took stock of
myself. My clothing was torn in places, and my hair was pulled and
tangled. My breathing was rapid; my heartbeat racing.

I realized now that, in my panic, I was doing
this the hard way. I slowed my breathing and attempted to calm
down. I was a Daughter of Eliam, after all. I had abilities that
most people did not. It was time to remember who I was.

When I became more at peace with my
surroundings, I raised my eyes and focused. My sight began to
lighten, as my eyes took in the moonshine and illuminated my
surroundings. A useful trick—something we girls of the abbey called
Cat’s Eyes,
since the ability gave us excellent night
vision.

A path of thick brush remained to bar my way.
I extended my will toward the vegetation, calling for its
compliance. A moment later, the briars and bushes parted before me,
leaving a clearly defined path for me to follow. The new path
extended into the distance, curving in certain places, giving me
the advantage I needed in order to escape Kane and the horrid life
awaiting me in Rainier with Prince Nathan and his mother,
Evelyn.

I kept my concentration focused and strolled
along the way that had been made for me. As I went, the vegetation
along the path behind me folded in again, covering my tracks should
Kane attempt to follow me. Even if he had been distracted by
something else, he was sure to come searching for me. After all, I
was very important to Mistress Evelyn and her plans. If Kane did
not bring me safely to her, she would likely have his head taken in
retribution.

I strolled into a clearing and paused—not for
some strange noise I had heard, but because of a lack of the
natural sounds I expected. Every cricket, beetle and rodent that
might have been normally active right now had gone suddenly silent.
Fear crept up my spine. Something was wrong here. I wondered,
immediately, if Kane had managed to find me.

I was wrong.

It wasn’t Kane at all.

Growls reverberated around the clearing—deep,
guttural noises that sent chills up my spine. I had seen these
creatures before—so recently that it felt like no time had passed
at all. I had watched them kill my only friend in this cruel world
and leave her body lying in a ditch on the side of the road.

The Cindermen had found me.

A dozen man-like beasts surrounded me. Their
foul stench, like that of a wet mongrel, mingled with the subtle
insidious aroma of decay. Their teeth were bared in ravenous
smiles, showing elongated canines that appeared readymade to rip my
throat out.

“At last,” one of them said. “Judah will be
pleased when we bring back your ragged carcass.”

“Nothing wrong with having a taste or two
first,” another said lustfully. “Tender meat on this one.” He
licked his lips as saliva dripped onto the ground.

I realized he doesn’t intend to ravish me and
steal away my virtue. Instead, I was to be at least partially
consumed. As long as they brought back enough proof of my death to
their leader, there would be no harsh consequences if they sated
their bloodlust a little in the process.

Days ago, after witnessing Celia’s death and
knowing that I had been the cause of it, I would have bared my neck
for them in my guilt and gladly welcomed oblivion at their hands.
That was then, and this was now. Killian was a real person living
in the world, and I had to find him. I had to do whatever I could
to save him from the danger he was in. I might have already been
too late. But I was not going to accept it; not yet.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere occurred in
the clearing. I sensed it, and so did the Cindermen. I could see it
on their faces, as their grins subsided into grim lines. My fear,
which had moments ago had them so excited, was now gone. In its
place remained only my hardened determination to fight these
monsters and kill them so that I could get to Killian before it was
too late.

Fierce energies ignited within my soul in
preparation for the destruction I now intended to bring in this
clearing. The muscled bodies of the Cindermen tensed, as they
prepared themselves to attack. A single second passed—a heartbeat—a
half-breath before all Hell broke loose.

A wolf-like Cinderman cried out in pain; his
arm severed just above the elbow. That scream was silenced just as
suddenly by a blur of steel coming out of the shadows again,
striking him in the heart. I caught only a glimpse of Kane moving
as fluidly as a running river among these beastly men.

For their part, the Cindermen wasted no more
time. They attacked with all of the ferocity they could muster.
Most went after Kane, or at least they attempted to go after him.
The assassin appeared one moment—long enough to strike a killing
blow—and then disappeared again.

A reptilian Cinderman lunged for me. Before I
could react with my own defenses, the beast was hurled away without
Kane ever touching him. I felt a chill wind and recognized the same
oppressive spirit at work as before, when I first met Kane at the
abbey.

I turned round and round, finding Cindermen
dying everywhere I looked. Moments later, the final agonized cry
died away as another reptilian brute expired upon the ground with
Kane’s deadly sword stabbed through his chest. The assassin stood
above him, looking at me with a wry grin upon his face.

I saw the other light in his eyes and
perceived the Malkind spirit within him. With the Cindermen dead, I
considered making my attack upon Kane. After all, Killian needed me
desperately. However, the working of that spirit remained too
strong for me.

I attempted to muster my power, but found
only the smothering influence of the Malkind. I was powerless to
escape now that Kane had arrived upon the scene. My opportunity to
flee my captor was gone.

Dawn’s first light found Killian and
Esmeralda wearily walking toward his father’s shop and their family
home. Already, he could see the smoke rising from the vent chimney.
His father, Radden, must have been forging another weapon to which
he would apply tender loving care and a craftsmanship unequaled by
any bladesmith in the kingdom.

Killian attended to Esmeralda’s needs first:
food, water and clean hay in her stall. He removed her saddle and
gave her coat a quick brushing out. All this time he considered
what he would say to his father. Radden was expecting a report of a
job well done and a newly blessed blade ready for delivery to
Prince Nathan at the palace.

What Killian had to offer his father was a
far cry from good news. Eliam’s priestess had not behaved in the
manner he had expected. Eliam himself had not blessed the sword in
the way Killian had supposed he would. Yeager and his daughter,
Wendy, had been killed at the Mangy Cur by mercenaries working for
who-knows-what great house, and he had been attacked by that same
group. Worst of all, the blessed blade had been stained with his
blood and, as near as Killian could tell, it had bonded with him as
a result.

Esmeralda was grateful and relieved to be
back home in her own private stall. She could no longer speak to
convey her feelings, but as always Killian sensed her emotions
through contact. She nuzzled his hand with her nose, apparently
having no further concern about the sword or the prince. She had
fresh hay and oats so, as far as she was concerned, all was right
with the world.

Killian left her at peace and walked back
toward his father’s shop. When he arrived in the doorway, he
carried the sword and scabbard in his hand with the strap wrapped
around it. What he had to tell his father was bad enough without
wearing the sword and appearing impertinent.

Still, Killian wanted to wear it—at least,
part of him wanted to wear it, wanted to hold the weapon in his
hands. He knew with certainty that the bond had occurred. He had
heard about the drawing power a blessed weapon held upon its bond.
He felt that tugging desire upon his soul, even now. The bonding of
blood and blessed steel had made them one.

He resisted the call of the weapon upon his
thoughts, trying to concentrate. Killian stood there for what
seemed like hours. Radden watched him curiously from his work
bench.

“Are you all right, boy?” Radden asked.

Killian’s eyes snapped up from the work
bench. He realized that he was avoiding looking at his father. His
gaze came to rest upon Radden’s middle-aged features.

“What’s wrong, Killian? You look like you’ve
seen a spirit, or something.”

Radden started to laugh a little, but paused.
He could see something unsettling in his son’s eyes. Something was
definitely wrong here.

Radden stood, gripping Killian’s shoulders in
his broad, calloused hands. “What’s happened?” he said sternly.
“Don’t leave out anything.”

Killian took a deep breath, concentrating on
his father’s command. The sword was calling him, even now. It
wanted to be worn, to be held in Killian’s hands.

He shook himself and started telling the
story from the time he entered the Brine Wood until coming home
again a few minutes ago. When he finished, twenty minutes later,
Killian was trembling. Surprisingly, Radden was shaking a little
himself.

His father released him after hearing the
part about his vision of Eliam. Now, he sat at his work bench
again, gripping an etching tool as the story concluded back at his
workshop. Radden’s knuckles were white from squeezing the tool.

Killian pulled up a chair next to his father
and laid the scabbard and sword across his lap. This, at least,
seemed to sate the hunger to brandish the blade. The weapon seemed
almost like a child wanting out to play. Such was its impatient
persistence.

After a moment of silence between them,
Killian asked, “What should we do, Father?”

Radden looked up. Killian could see
immediately that his father hadn’t the slightest idea how to
proceed. He was worried, frustrated, and fearful. Any number of
things might happen because of this.

Most immediately was the matter of Prince
Nathan. He was expecting his sword to be delivered to the palace
for the bonding ceremony. Disappointing the royal family might harm
his family any number of ways. They might be stripped of their
status. They might be beheaded.

Killian began to utter his earlier idea of
taking the sword on to the palace with the hope that the bonding
ceremony might somehow undo
this
bond. However, even as he
began to wrest the thought to the forefront of his mind, regret
arrived with it. He could barely stand to consider such a thing as
giving away
his
sword.