Raven's Hand (9 page)

“So our lives are a test?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said.
“
Perhaps
, opportunity is a better word. Creation rebelled
against its creator, and now we have an open invitation from Eliam
to return to him.”

Killian nodded thoughtfully, considering
Shalindra’s explanation. “In that case, I only have one
question.”

“What would that be?”

“What does this have to do with me coming
here to have Prince Nathan’s sword blessed by Eliam?”

“Nothing…or everything, depending on you,”
Shalindra replied.

“I don’t understand,” Killian answered. “Am I
supposed to do something?”

“You will do something. It only remains to be
seen what?”

Esmeralda raised her head. “Priestess, with
all due respect, what are you speaking of? We do not understand
what you are referring to.”

Shalindra smiled. “I’m speaking of change
that is coming to the world, noble Esmeralda.”

“And I’m involved somehow?” Killian
asked.

“More than you can imagine.”

Before Killian could process her answer,
Shalindra raised her hand. The sword lunged from Killian’s grasp
into hers. He jumped back in surprise. Shalindra only grinned.

Killian regained his composure quickly,
watching Eliam’s priestess as she examined the sword. Shalindra
turned it over in her hands repeatedly, testing the weight and
balance. Her gaze roamed over the steel, scrutinizing every
intricate detail.

“Excellent craftsmanship, as is usual with
Radden,” Shalindra finally said. “All this talent and breeding to
boot.”

“What?”

Shalindra did not repeat her statement. She
released the sword from her grip, letting it lay upon her open
palms. The blade rose, as though lifted by invisible hands, and
then floated across the space between her and Killian. When it
reached him, Killian took hold of the weapon. He didn’t know what
to think of the exchange. The extent of Shalindra’s power was
unknown to him.

“Interesting,” she remarked, watching as the
sword returned to Killian. “It has chosen you.”

“Chosen me?” Killian asked.

Shalindra nodded. “We shall perform the
blessing of power now.”

Killian smiled, offering the sword back to
her. After all, he had seen the process performed before. Shalindra
always held the weapon to be blessed while the short ceremony took
place. However, Shalindra held up her hand to refuse his offer.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You will hold on to the sword while it is
being blessed,” she said.

It was not a request, but her expectation. He
couldn’t refuse. Otherwise, he might have risked her displeasure
and the blessing upon the weapon his father had sent. However, this
was highly unorthodox. Still, Killian decided he would trust the
priestess. After all, he had absolutely no reason not to trust
her.

Her eyes grew fierce, as she began to recite
a liturgy taken directly from the Scrolls of Eliam. The wind around
them picked up, becoming a gale in seconds. A massive purple
thunderhead generated above the temple courtyard.

Esmeralda whinnied in agitation and backed
away from Killian. He felt the fear rolling off the animal in
waves. That same fear was steadily creeping up his spine. He would
have liked very much to retreat with her. However, Killian was no
coward. He remained fastened to the spot with the sword held
tightly in his hands.

Thunder rolled above them, answering a
multitude of lightning flashes that illuminated the darkening sky.
Killian had never seen a storm come up so fast. Yet, he knew this
must be the work of Eliam and not simply some freak episode of
weather.

“Hold the sword aloft in your right hand!”
Shalindra cried, breaking out of her recitation.

Killian sucked in a deep breath, having no
idea what would happen next but sensing that a climax of sorts was
underway. He released the blade with his left hand and thrust the
sword skyward with his right. The lightning flashed in response, as
though it had been seeking a metal object to strike.

“Do not be afraid!” Shalindra called over the
din of wind and thunder. “Say these words and receive Eliam’s
blessing!”

Though he was trembling, buffeted by the
wind, Killian nodded his ascent to the priestess.

“Almighty Eliam, bless this weapon with the
power to serve your purposes!” Shalindra intoned.

Killian repeated the words exactly.

“Give this your servant the boldness and
courage to do your will in the world and defeat the ways of the
Malkind and their followers!” Shalindra continued in a loud
voice.

Killian hesitated here. He was unsure what
was happening. Somehow, this seemed very dangerous to him. In his
mind, questions were popping up like warning signs. These were not
the words used in times past for the other weapons sent by his
father, or brought personally by Radden.

“Do you believe in your Creator?” Shalindra
asked when he did not immediately comply. “Do you seek his blessing
this day? Then speak the words!”

Killian pushed past his reservations. His
faith being called into question, he courageously proceeded, crying
out to Eliam in his strongest voice. “Give this your servant the
boldness and courage to do your will in the world and defeat the
ways of the Malkind and their followers!”

Immediately, the entire temple courtyard
exploded in white light, as several bolts of lightning struck the
blade of the sword at once. Killian’s vision went white and his
ears rang. Then, almost as suddenly, the scene changed.

Killian found himself high above the storm
that dominated the Brine Wood and the temple. Even the clouds,
white from this vantage point where the sun shone down upon them,
were far below. Not even the birds flew so high.

A voice like thunder resounded from sky to
sky, a masculine voice like the sound of a river rushing over a
waterfall. The language, at first, was indecipherable. Then, as the
strange words tumbled through his mind, they became coherent.

“I bestow my blessing upon you, Killian
Radden-son,” the voice said.

Killian could see only the storm below and
stars in a veil of night above, with Titan’s sun as the brightest
among them. It did not blind him to look upon its tremendous light.
He felt no pain and no fear. He knew without thinking that this
could only be the voice of Eliam that spoke to him from the
heavens.

A thousand questions attempted to break into
his thoughts, but they were barred from his conscious mind. Nothing
was allowed to intrude upon Eliam’s voice and Killian’s
contemplation of his words. He was everywhere and nowhere.

“You are a chosen vessel unto me to thwart
the plans of the Malkind.”

Killian desired to speak, but he could not
form words. Eliam’s voice and his will crashed upon him like the
waves of a great sea. His strength fled away. His will was bent
like a reed in the wind.

Then his body began to fall toward the
surface of the world. He passed into the storm and through the
clouds. He realized suddenly that he was riding a bolt of lightning
down toward the blade and his own body. He was drawn down
impossibly fast, unable to scream as his spirit converged with his
mortal form still standing deaf and blind in the same moment when
the lightning had struck. Indeed, those bolts of energy had
remained frozen in time, until he returned to his body.

Light and heat and pressure returned. He was
back in that moment when the lightning hit the sword. The ringing
was gone from his ears. In its place was the terrible roar of
thunder, overwhelming him.

Killian fell to the ground, blinded by the
light. He felt numb over his entire body. In fact, the only
sensation was the sword in his hand. He found solace in that
knowledge and in the voice, but not in the words. What was said
disturbed him. What had Shalindra done, having him ask for that
blessing? This lone query remained with him until unconsciousness
swallowed him whole.

Days passed, after which a rider from
Evelyn’s caravan arrived to inform us of the terrible news. Of
course, I already knew what ill tidings he bore. He had not brought
her body back to the abbey. Having been sent from Evelyn, I was not
surprised. She cared nothing for us.

We were not Malkind worshippers, therefore we
were not human. In her eyes, we were only pawns in a game. We
served their purposes, living as slaves in a palace, but living as
slaves nonetheless.

The word from Evelyn was unsurprising news.
She expected me to ready myself for the trip to Rainier.
Apparently, an escort would be sent from the palace to convey me to
Mistress Evelyn and her son. Her visual message yesterday, through
the use of her Malkind wand, had confirmed both her safe arrival at
the palace and her intention to receive me despite the inconvenient
nature of the situation.

I was still not her first choice. That much
was clear. In fact, Evelyn had conveyed to Hannah how displeased
she was to require my person at all. If there had been another girl
near of age and ability, she would have called for them
immediately. Unfortunately for her, the matter of the throne and
the king’s health was dire, and I was her only option.

The terrible irony of the situation was not
lost on me. Had I gone in the first place, Celia would still be
alive. Upon my death at the hands of the Cindermen, she would have
been next in line. She would then have been the one to have
Evelyn’s own bodyguard sent to escort her to Rainier. I would have
been dead in a ditch, and she would have gone on to bond with
Prince Nathan under the watch care of Mistress Evelyn. Strangely,
it occurred to me to wonder which fate was worse. Perhaps, Celia
had been spared a fate worse than death.

My tears had long since dried up. I had spent
my days, since that awful vision, crying almost non-stop. Hannah,
at first, had chided my sorrow as girlish emotionalism. However,
once I had explained my vision, she relented somewhat. She hadn’t
been entirely sure such a premonition would prove accurate, but she
had given me the benefit of the doubt. The rider from Evelyn had
only confirmed the details of my story.

I waited for the one who was coming. This
Kane person was supposed to escort me safely to the palace in
Rainier. I knew less than nothing about the man, but some of the
other girls claimed to have heard stories associated with his
name.

Apparently, he was considered to be quite
fierce; a deadly assassin turned royal protector. I did not bother
to ask Hannah anything about Kane. She probably wouldn’t have told
me anyway. Since the rider had arrived with news of the caravan and
Celia’s fate, she had been distant. I got the feeling she blamed me
for Celia’s death.

I couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment.
I was to blame. Celia had not been ready for this duty to be thrust
upon her so suddenly. Like leaves upon a gale wind, we had been
able to do nothing to halt the advance of fate.

It was one hour past our evening meal when
the bell rang at the main abbey door. Sandra, a female servant,
answered the door just as the little bell stopped ringing. A man in
black clothing stood tall, like the shadow of a scarecrow on the
other side of the threshold.

Sandra gasped, bowing her head when she laid
eyes upon him. I gasped also, but did not look away. Like a mouse
hypnotized by the gaze of a python, I was transfixed by this
person. Without any introduction, I knew already that this man must
be Kane.

I noticed for the first time that the sky was
overcast outside, beyond the man. Deep purple clouds roiled over
the hills in the distance. Lightning illuminated the doorway,
framing Kane in otherworldly light, as though the sky had just
issued a warning as to the nature of our visitor this evening.

A dreadful feeling of foreboding crept over
my skin, raising goose flesh on my arms. A cold tingling sensation
ran along my spine. There was something very unnerving about this
man; something I could not quite place. He was dangerous without
doing a thing to warrant my fear, like an evil shadow knitted to an
otherwise ordinary man.

As soon as Sandra stepped out of his way,
Kane came through the door. The movement was so unnaturally quick,
I barely registered any steps taken. I caught a dying luminescence
in his eyes—an amber glow that quickly dissipated—a spirit hiding
away within the man.

Instinctively, I quested out toward him with
my power, searching to uncover what I had just witnessed. Kane’s
gaze fixed upon me, as though I had physically touched him. In his
eyes, I found a stern rebuke for the intrusion. Instantly, I felt
my power rebuffed.

Then something even more unexpected happened.
Like the tentacles of an octopus crawling over my flesh, I felt
power emanating from Kane. I was seized and held where I stood, put
into subjection to whatever dwelt within Evelyn’s bodyguard. The
sensation was not unlike times when, as a small child, my matron
would grab me by the chin and force me to look into her eyes. I was
meant to understand who had the real power here. I attempted to
resist, but my effort was futile. As quickly as the lesson was
taught, the power over me retreated.

My surprise was no doubt evident upon my
face. Not only did Kane sense my power, he had the ability to
resist it. I had never met a man like this, and I had not yet
formally
met this one. Still, I knew enough to fear him.

A black cape, more like a cloak of darkness,
hung from his broad shoulders down to the floor almost completely
obscuring his leather boots. As his cape shifted slightly, I
noticed a dark scabbard beneath, holding a weapon that was likely
as agile and quick as a darting adder in his hands. Despite the
space between us—I stood near the stair beyond the large foyer—I
shuddered when he finally spoke.