Raven's Hand (15 page)

The sky was bright blue with only a few puffy
white clouds drifting overhead. The air was warm, but not enough to
be uncomfortable. The scents of distant market stalls filled the
air with spices and bread and pies baking. It all seemed so
perfect.

Except, the sword was vibrating through the
scabbard which was attached to Killian’s saddle. It pulsed like an
impatient child tugging at his mother’s skirts. All may have seemed
right with the world by general appearances, but the sword blessed
by Eliam apparently knew better.

Killian swept his gaze ahead. His eyes fell
suddenly upon the buildings that lined this particular area of
King’s Road. These businesses were of such a height on either side
as to create the appearance of a valley within the street.

The sword vibrated with even more intensity
now. Killian grabbed the hilt and drew the blade free of its
scabbard. The vibrations ceased instantly as he touched it, turning
instead into raw emotion that fed into his mind. A terrible feeling
of dread washed over him.

“What are you doing?” Radden asked in a harsh
whisper, hoping that no one else had seen what his son was doing.
“Put that away!”

Killian turned to his father. “An attack is
coming,” he whispered back.

An earsplitting explosion shook the ground
and the buildings on King’s Road a moment later. Windows shattered.
Men and horses up ahead of Killian and his father were thrown into
the air. The armored carriage was thrown on its side. The explosion
had gone off as it passed by a certain place in the street.

At this distance, Killian had felt only the
thunderous boom. None of the flame and shrapnel that had killed
many at the blast radius had touched him or his father or the
soldiers around them. The citizens of Rainier in the vicinity had
been killed, injured, or driven into a numbing, screaming
panic.

Dazed, Killian felt Esmeralda’s fear. She
reared up in terror and bolted away from the scene. Killian grabbed
hold of her neck with his free hand, trying to calm her. The sword
fed its desire to fight directly into his mind. Suddenly, Killian
felt a calm wash over him and through him, even into Esmeralda by
way of his contact with her.

She responded as he responded. In that
moment, a connection between sword and rider and horse occurred.
Eliam’s peace was upon them. Courage and purpose arose, and Killian
felt Esmeralda surge forward through the soldiers.

He released his hold on her mane and swept
the reins into his hand. In the other hand, Killian held the sword
at his side. Soldiers lay in the street wounded and confused. They
were in no shape to fight at the moment, but this was precisely
when the real attack came.

Men rose upon the rooftops of the buildings
lining the King’s Road. Bows in hand, they began to rain down
arrows upon the street below and the soldiers lying nearly helpless
there. Some attempted to shield themselves, but most were too dazed
to realize what was happening until they were struck multiple
times. Horses screamed also, as those that survived the explosion
with their riders were riddled with arrows. Men and horses fell
back to the ground, their weapons clattering onto the road
uselessly as rivulets of blood cascaded through the joints of the
paving stones.

Killian pulled the reins hard, bending
Esmeralda to his will. “You can’t go in there!” he said to her.

She protested through noises and the transfer
of emotions, but Killian refused her argument.

“You’re too big a target, and they’ll surely
try to kill you with a rider onboard,” he reasoned. “Go around and
find me when the time is right!”

Before the mare could protest further,
Killian leaped from her saddle with the sword in hand. He wrapped
the scabbard strap around his shoulder and torso, grabbed up a
fallen soldier’s polished steel shield, bearing the crest of House
Rainier, and charged into the fray. He did not understand exactly
how, but Killian knew that he must make his way to the overturned
carriage. Through the sword’s influence, he felt this to be of
vital importance and he must not fail.

Shouts and screams mingled with the swish of
arrows and the moans of the dying. Figures moved forward from the
shadows into the street, cutting down soldiers who were trying to
recover from the initial blast. Killian’s mind reeled at the
realization that these warriors were, in fact, Cindermen.

How could this be? How could they have gotten
into the city without anyone knowing? It wasn’t like they were
inconspicuous creatures. Their appearance was actually quite
alarming—you couldn’t miss them. Killian could only assume a plot
involving numerous citizens and possibly even soldiers was now
unfolding in an attempt to dethrone the heir to House Rainier
before he could assume power in the place of his ailing father.

One of the beasts stabbed a pike into the
body of a crawling soldier, killing the man. Killian raised the
blessed blade and struck the wolf-like creature down as he passed.
Their target was abundantly clear. All of the Cindermen were
converging upon the overturned royal carriage.

Smoke rolled away from the armored vehicle.
Of the four white horses that had been pulling the carriage, only
one still tried in vain to rise from the ground upon a bloody and
broken hind leg. The other horses were still harnessed together,
but none of them moved at all now.

Killian raced through the haze and fog
created by the explosion. At every opportunity, he cut down the
Cindermen that he found. Even their beastly strength and cunning
was no match for the power of the blade blessed by Eliam. The sword
moved his arm, making its will his own by a connection Killian
could recognize but hardly explain.

By now, royal guards and soldiers had also
taken up the fight against the attacking Cindermen. Men and beasts
clashed in a terrible struggle, shedding blood and rending flesh.
Their cries joined together in a cacophony of woe that seemed to
fill every space upon the King’s Road and its surrounding
buildings.

Through all of this, Killian ran at breakneck
speed, trying to reach the overturned carriage. He did not know who
might be inside. He did not care. The blessed sword willed him
onward.

Another two Cindermen engaged him, one
swinging a war hammer, the other brandishing a sword slicked with
wet blood. The war hammer attempted to bite into the blade but was
repelled. Killian ducked below the next mighty swing and hacked
through the beast’s legs below the knees.

Rolling back to his feet, he brought his
sword into an overhead guard position, catching his enemy’s sword
before his own blood could be added to the blade. Sticky, crimson
residue spattered Killian’s face. He ignored it, kicking out
against the creature’s right knee cap. A howl of pain issued from
its mongrel throat as the man thing buckled toward the ground.
Killian forced his sword past and cracked it across the creature’s
skull, sending the beast dying to the pavement.

He reached the carriage, bounded from its
bent axle to its upturned side. The whole side had been caved in.
He pulled at the handle, but the warped frame refused to release
the door.

Killian wasted no time. He whipped the blade
around, striking the hinges and then pulled again. The door came
free in his hand.

An attacker appeared behind him, leaping up
to the carriage wheel with a long dagger in his hand. Killian swung
the armor-plated door around and bashed the lizard-like man across
the face. The creature reeled backward, falling away from the
carriage.

Killian found a woman inside, wearing
ornamental dress, lying stunned at the bottom of the compartment.
She stirred as he called to her. It was a miracle she was alive at
all.

“Give me your hand!” he cried, reaching down
to her. She stood, grabbing for his arm and clasped hold. Killian
grunted with the effort, hauling her out like a fish from a pond.
Smoke whirled around the carriage. He could hear men closing in and
the sounds of battle. He had to hurry.

Drawing the girl up, Killian stood and
deposited her upon the side of the carriage. Her hair was very
black and only a little disheveled. Her elegant dress, clearly made
for attending the royal court, was another matter. The gown was
torn in places and singed heavily in others.

Then she looked up at her rescuer for the
first time. Killian’s eyes locked upon her face. This was
impossible. It simply could not be. Before him, sitting upon the
smoldering carriage in her ruined gown with an expression of shock
upon her face, was the girl of his dreams.

I sat upon a velvet seat cushion inside the
padded, armored carriage Evelyn had sent to meet me. Kane and I had
found exactly what she had said we would. A great many soldiers
were waiting for us as we approached the South Gate earlier in the
day. But this was not going to be as informal a passing into the
city as I had hoped. Evelyn had also sent servants with a selection
of gowns.

These servants had been previously instructed
to bathe and dress me for my journey through the streets of Rainier
to the palace where Evelyn and her son would be waiting to receive
me. I did not have any say as to the choice of the gown.
Nevertheless, it was very fine, deep blue silk accented with silver
clasps and a silvery white imprint of the coat of arms for House
Rainier; an eagle in flight over a sunrise. To onlookers, the dress
and pattern were no doubt beautiful to behold. For me, the dress
spoke of their wealth while the pattern testified to my being their
property.

I endured their process—scrubbing away the
previous night of road dust and sweat and Cinderman blood. They
fashioned my hair, spinning it up into an intricate pattern piled
atop my head. Oils for my skin and perfumes were applied. Only a
little makeup was applied, allowing the natural tones of my pale
skin to stand out. I was ready.

Under guard they bundled me into the
carriage. My final farewell came from Kane. He simply tipped his
hat with a devilish grin and then rode away ahead of us. Talk among
the soldiers had informed me that he was scouting the route ahead
between us and my new retinue of soldiers and the royal palace well
beyond the wall.

Locked inside like a freshly polished
gemstone, my caravan began its movement toward the city gate. The
ride was not exactly going to be comfortable, but at least Evelyn’s
wagons were well padded inside all of the armor plating. There
seemed to be no escape.

Twenty minutes later, I was growing restless
as we neared the palace. I peeked outside through the small barred
window. I could see another group of soldiers on horseback waiting
for our long procession to pass. It was hard for me to make out any
details about the group. They must have been soldiers sent by
Evelyn to guard me on my journey to her and her son, Prince
Nathan.

They certainly weren’t taking any chances
with my safety. Of course, after what had happened to Celia and
Evelyn upon the road, I couldn’t blame her for her caution. Even my
secret journey on horseback with Kane had somehow been known to
Judah and his Cindermen.

With nothing new to see, I returned my gaze
from the road. I sat very still in my new gown, wondering how much
further it must be until we reached the palace and my future with
Prince Nathan and his soon-to-be queen. Yet, I was still not
resigned to this fate. I would be free of this slavery and I would
find my love, Killian, somehow.

Tears began to form in my eyes. Quickly, I
removed my handkerchief and dabbed them away before my makeup
became ruined. I had no desire to be punished by Evelyn again.

I bowed my head and offered up a prayer to
Eliam. My hope was that he would help me; that all was not lost.
“Please help me to find Killian,” I whispered.

An explosion erupted in the street outside
the carriage. Instantly, my hearing was reduced to a constant
ringing sound. Light and fire flashed through the windows. I felt
the heat, but heard only the ringing and felt the world
tilting.

I could not tell if I was merely dizzy, or if
something was actually happening to my world within the carriage.
Then I was thrown sideways, landing heavily against the padded
sidewall to my right. Glass shattered and scattered through the air
around me as smoke filled the confines of the vehicle.

I saw nothing but wisps of flame. The ringing
was incessant. I felt numb all over my body, lying helpless against
the padded wall, looking up toward what was once the unmarred left
side of the carriage. Now, the door and wall was partially caved
in.

I wondered what had happened, but thoughts
refused to coalesce. An attack of some kind, perhaps? Visions of
Cindermen came into my mind, but I was too dazed to make sense out
of anything. Was this my time to die? Would I be like Celia, pulled
from a ruined armored carriage to have my throat cut in the middle
of the road by a Cinderman?

As the ringing in my ears began to fade, I
heard more and more the sounds of battle: swords clashing, horses
screaming, and men dying. I tried unsuccessfully to lift myself
from the floor of the vehicle. My dress managed to hinder my every
move. Already, it was torn and marred by smoke and fire.

I heard footsteps pounding upon the carriage
above me. A hand reached into the window, fingers pulling at the
bent grill, trying to open the door. Those efforts proved
unsuccessful. The hand retreated and my hope drained away.

A piercing cry of steel drew my eyes skyward
again. Molten cuts scored the door frame. The hand returned,
grabbing the grill and pulling again. To my surprise, it came
free.

A head in silhouette peered down at me from
above. I could see that it was a younger man, but no other details.
His arm shot down into the carriage after me, insisting that I do
something to help him save me. I mustered my final reserve of
strength and jumped to grab his proffered arm. I missed the first
time and then quickly gave it a better try. Success—I had him, or
rather he had me.