Raven's Hand (7 page)

Even Esmeralda couldn’t resist the
opportunity such trips to the Brine Wood afforded her. It was a
chance to voice her opinions on a great many topics that were dear
to her heart. Killian, like his father, got to hear them all.

“You really should have thought to bring more
apples, Killian,” Esmeralda said in a frustrated tone.

“I’m sorry…again. How many times must I say
so before you forgive me?”

“I only repeat myself for future reference,”
said the black mare as they rounded another large tree.

A deer bounded out of a thicket across the
trail. It paused, looked at Killian and Esmeralda. Then it became
transparent against the foliage. Only the tell-tale movement of the
brush gave away its escape.

“Bet you wish you could become invisible,”
Killian mused, poking at her shoulder from his saddle.

“Keep prodding at me, and I’ll toss you into
a bush,” Esmeralda said. “Besides, I have no need to hide. I’m not
some frail creature that runs from danger.”

“I know,” Killian laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m
only teasing you.”

“Foolish boy, you had best not tease the
priestess, Shalindra,” Esmeralda warned. “She might rather put a
curse upon you.”

Killian grinned. “I’ll be sure to be careful
with my words.”

“Better yet, I could speak for you,”
Esmeralda mused. “Shalindra knows me well, by now. She has even
brought me apples on occasion.”

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I
had better handle this myself,” Killian replied. “After all, I will
one day take over our shop from Father. Protocol is nearly as
important learning as smithing in our trade.”

Esmeralda snorted, not derisively but as a
matter of warning. A fog was coming—not a gentle building of
condensation in the cool forest atmosphere, but a roiling, boiling
wall approaching through the trees. Knowing this sign already,
Esmeralda halted. Killian, feeling only slightly apprehensive,
waited in the saddle, observing the influx of fog.

It soon enveloped them where they stood.
Esmeralda did not fidget, did not cry out even in the human tongue.
Killian inhaled the cool mist as it covered them like an
avalanche.

The sounds of the forest around them were
pushed out, as though dampened by a blanket of snow. Killian could
see nothing around them for the moment. There was no voice, at
first. Then he began to pick up whispers in the white void around
them. Esmeralda’s ears pricked up to these as well, though Killian
could barely see his companion’s equine features in the mist.

Their sounds were indistinct, and Killian had
no idea what they meant to say. The voices seemed to be speaking
with one another rather than to him. He wondered if he should call
out to them, to enquire, but he refrained from this nervous
behavior. Anyone who was meant to be here would know better than to
act like a buffoon. Killian had no intention of embarrassing
himself in such a way.

The murky veil began to dissipate a little.
Faces and figures were revealed and then lost among the white
vapors again. The face of a bear appeared and was gone. An elk
turned its head and then vanished. A leopard skittered along a
branch near Killian’s head before becoming lost to him again.

In all of these appearances, neither Killian
nor Esmeralda panicked. He knew they were being tested, as all who
wondered through these woods were tested. Some failed the test,
while others passed. Those who belonged saw the Priestess of Eliam.
However, those who failed did not see another sunrise.

The voices, with their whispering, grew
louder. Their tones changed together, becoming urgent suddenly. A
command came to him through the fog—a charge that Killian could not
resist.

“Speak the words,” the voices whispered
harshly. This was human speak, but not human voices that commanded
him.

Killian, of course, knew exactly the words
which these inhuman voices desired to hear. If he did not know
them, something terrible would befall him. There would be nothing
Esmeralda could do to save him.

“Speak the words,” she said now in unison
with the voices.

Killian smiled and proclaimed loudly, “Eliam
is Creator. Eliam is my sovereign. He reigns eternally.”

Instantly, the voices ceased their
whispering. The murky veil of fog retreated from Killian and
Esmeralda. They were no longer standing in the forest surrounded by
trees. Somehow, and Killian had no idea how, they both had been
transported from the wood to Eliam’s Temple. Its location was
unknown. Killian couldn’t have found it if he tried. Nevertheless,
he and Esmeralda had arrived.

The mist abated continually, leaving stacked
stones, moss and flowering vines. The temple bore resemblance to an
ancient ruin with incomplete walls and missing ceilings. A present,
gentle breeze appeared to have nothing at all to do with the
retreating fog.

Killian’s eyes found a number of animals—the
bear and the leopard, the elk and others congregated among the
tumble-down stones and ancient ruin of the structure. They remained
as still as statues, watching him. Ahead, upon a dais that appeared
to be centuries old, stood a woman with dark skin.

Remembering the woman from his childhood
memories, Killian smiled brightly at her. She looked older,
perhaps, than she had before. He honestly couldn’t make up his
mind. Her skin was still very smooth. Her hair was dark and piled
upon her head in an intricate weave. A sandy robe hung from her
slight frame, descending to the ground without interruption.

Her hands were clasped in front of her. A
necklace of beads adorned her throat, overlapping onto her slight
chest. She did not smile. She did not even speak.

Killian only grinned wider in recognition.
“Shalindra.”

Three days passed in relative misery for me
after Celia was taken by Mistress Evelyn. Most of my time was spent
pining for my friend and reliving the events that had led to her
being ripped away from me to live in the Rainier palace as a bond
slave to Prince Nathan. My destination, every time I made the
journey through my bitter thoughts, was my own guilt. There was no
escaping this one conclusion. Through my own rebellion, I had done
this to her.

I finished my chores for the day early and
found myself walking through the inner courtyard of the abbey. The
ancient lichen-covered stones were cool, almost cold, against my
bare feet. A coy pond was the central feature in the courtyard
where lily fronds danced upon the water stirred by fish playing
below the surface.

Brackish water reflected the high flying
clouds above me and the few rays of sunlight that peeked through
from time to time. I pushed my thoughts toward the coy, desiring
them to still their antics. In moments, every ripple from their
play had disappeared. The water became as smooth as glass—a mirror
finish that I peered into.

There had been times when I saw events
unfolding ahead of their actual occurrence. I had never shared this
particular gift with my matron, or with any of the other girls at
the abbey. I had almost told Celia one time, but I had refrained.
Now, I wished I had taken the opportunity.

I sat by the pond, a light breeze playing
through the branches of dogwoods rooted among the stones. Pink and
white petals drifted by, attempting to settle upon the surface of
the water. I brushed them aside with my mind in order to keep the
water still.

Peering into the dark, I saw the coy sitting
in place, barely moving. They didn’t look at me, but they must have
felt my connection to them. Otherwise, they would have resumed
their previous activity.

I was pulled gently but insistently by my
gift of sight through the brackish void. A second later, there was
no water. I had journeyed beyond that into a scene unfolding
somewhere in time. I couldn’t tell if it was past, present, or
future—at least, not until the particulars came into focus for
me.

I was sitting inside a vehicle of some kind.
Almost instantly, I recognized what must be the inside of one of
Mistress Evelyn’s armored wagons. I did not see Lady Rainier.
However, when I turned myself, Celia was sitting upon the opposite
bench cushion. She was looking out the curtained window. Bars
covered the outside to protect the occupants inside from attack.
Knowing the construction of the wagon, I realized that Mistress
Evelyn must be riding on the other side of the partition wall at
Celia’s back.

I attempted to speak to her, but Celia could
neither see nor hear me. I was not even a dream to her, not even a
ghost. Still, I was comforted somewhat to see her face, despite the
trails of tears across her cheeks and her puffy bloodshot eyes. At
the very least, she was unharmed.

Then her world turned upside
down—literally—as something terrible collided with the side of the
wagon and sent it tumbling off the road. I only caught a glimpse of
the shock on Celia’s face as she attempted to brace herself, but to
no avail. She was tossed round and round with the wagon.

My insubstantial spectral form passed through
the armored hide of the wagon, leaving me standing on the road to
watch the vehicle tumbling away with its side partially caved in. I
turned in terror to find a monstrous war elephant standing upon the
road wearing armor plate. The beast possessed crimson eyes and a
hide as tough as a rhinoceros.

Soldiers shouted commands. There came
screaming and death, as arrows flew between Evelyn’s guard and the
horde of human like creatures that had ambushed Lady Rainier’s
caravan. Blood spilled over and over again upon the road, pooling
at my ghostly feet. Though I saw it all, none of these combatants
could see me.

I wished this was only a dream, but I knew
enough about my visions to understand how real they were. What I
couldn’t know yet was whether this vision was in the past, present,
or future. It might have happened a day ago. It might have been a
few days from then. I had never been able to tell from the visions
alone.

The man-like things who attacked Evelyn’s
caravan shared features with various animals. Some had fur on their
bodies. Others had facial characteristics similar to canines,
felines and reptiles. Some possessed lithe frames, while others
were overly muscled.

I had never seen a Cinderman before, but I
had heard the legends. The famous sorcerer Herbert Cinder, five
hundred years ago, had combined animals and men during his many
experiments, attempting to create a better human being. The
monstrosities he created became known as Cindermen.

It had been rumored that some of the great
houses actually had pacts with the infamous leader of the
Cindermen, Judah. Though this had never been proven, many stories
identified Judah and the others as mercenaries for hire to the
highest bidder. Great houses seeking muscle against their rivals
might have done no better than hiring the kind of horde I found
attacking Lady Rainier’s armored caravan.

My heart melted within me as the wagon
carrying both Mistress Evelyn and Celia tumbled another time and
then came to rest upon its side. The axles beneath it were bent,
the wheels mangled beyond repair. They could not run now.

I threw up my hands to stop these attackers
as they rushed toward the damaged wagon. The Cindermen passed
through me unhindered. I had no power to stop what would happen
next. In my current state, I could not even cry for my friend.

Men with faces like wolves and lions and
snakes approached the battered contraption with their swords and
pikes ready. Their shields rested upon their backs. They did not
fear the men who guarded the wagon. Evelyn’s soldiers, who had been
riding on the outside a moment ago, lay upon the road and the
ground torn and broken by the metal box on wheels.

Those who came to their lady’s aid from the
other wagons were dealt with quickly. Swords stabbed through their
leather armor. Pikes gouged at their legs from a distance and then
were rammed into their middles after they fell to the ground. For
all their effort to defend Lady Rainier, they failed miserably
against the cunning and prowess of the Cindermen.

They moved like a pride of lions or pack of
wolves. Their strategy was superior. Their strength and speed
during the fight was overwhelming. I had heard their brutality was
beyond compare. If they were acting in the interests of a rival
house, then there would certainly be no mercy. Lady Rainier would
be either ransomed or killed. Celia, as the intended bond of the
prince, could not be allowed to live.

It had to be their knowledge of her presence
in this caravan that had triggered the attack. Evelyn could have
been attacked at any time before arriving at the abbey. Celia was
clearly the intended target. I longed to weep, for that connection
with my own body sitting by the fountain. I knew my friend was
about to die in my place. I should have been the one in that
wagon.

The Cindermen had mortally wounded the human
guards surrounding the overturned wagon, but they left most of them
alive, writhing in agony upon the ground. The young soldiers cried
out for their wounds, looking for help that was not coming. Blood
welled around their trembling hands as they attempted to stop the
flow of life from their torn bodies. Others, ripped open by
Cinderman swords, tried desperately to hold organs and entrails
within their bellies. They prayed to their Malkind gods in vain. No
one answered them. No spirits came to their aid.

The Cindermen reached Lady Rainier’s
carriage. Even now, the guards from some of the other carriages
attempted to fight their way through the Cindermen without success.
The way had been cleared for these to get to the Lady and
Celia.

I could do nothing but watch as they rent the
doors away with chains attached to one of their war elephants. The
pachyderm made quick work of the steel frame. The Cindermen went
into the carriage on Evelyn’s side, but soon emerged empty-handed.
I was shocked to find the Lady missing.