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Authors: James Somers

Tags: #adventure, #action, #fantasy, #young adult, #teen, #dystopian, #james somers

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BOOK: Raven's Hand
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The polished steel whirled around Killian,
the air whistling with its passing. “It feels so light,” he
remarked, halting his exercise to return the weapon to his
Father.

His father held up a hand. “Have you finished
the scabbard?”

Killian smiled, his dark eyes twinkling in
the firelight. “I was up last night finishing it.”

“Good lad,” his father replied. “Then you
might as well hold on to the sword. I need you to take it to
Shalindra to be blessed.”

“Really?” Killian asked, “But you usually
don’t let me go to the priestess.”

“Ask him, why now?” said a fair woman with
auburn locks falling around her shoulders, entering the workshop
behind Killian.

“It doesn’t matter why,” his father retorted.
“Your mother’s just having a go at me, that’s all.”

Killian’s mother came to stand beside her
husband with a smirk on her face. “Don’t you believe him,” she said
playfully. “Last time he had to go to the temple—”

“With the shield for the High Prince?”

“That’s the one,” she said. “Well, he stayed
up all evening prior to leaving, eating my Dragon Fire Stew.”

“Hold your tongue, woman,” his father
bellowed. “You’re holding the lad up when he has important work to
do.”

His mother ignored this, trying to keep from
laughing. Killian couldn’t help but smile at her mirth, even though
he hadn’t guessed the end of her story just yet.

“Well, you know how your father’s belly gets
to rumbling after Dragon Fire Stew,” she continued. “He couldn’t
hold it in and broke wind during Shalindra’s liturgy.”

Her laughter broke loose with Killian’s. His
father grumbled in his chair, shaking his head, waiting for them to
stop. It took a few moments before they got themselves
composed.

“All right,” he said, as they calmed down,
wiping tears from their eyes. “You’ve had your fun. Now, I need you
to escort the king’s blade to Shalindra. Are you going, or
not?”

“Of course, I’ll go, Father,” Killian said,
“but I’ll leave the stew alone.”

“Now, don’t go disrespecting my stew,” his
mother said. “I can’t help it he likes it so much.”

“Neither can I,” his father said, patting his
belly with a chuckle of his own.

He picked up the weapon, allowing his wife to
see before handing it over to Killian again. “Be careful with it,”
he said. “You can take Esmeralda with you. She knows the way as
well as I do…maybe better.”

Killian nodded, taking the sword from his
father. His mother smiled at her husband and then bent down to kiss
him. When she stood again, he swatted her behind. “Now, I can have
all the stew I want tonight.”

“Who said I was cooking it?” she replied.

“The boy will be gone tonight,” he said with
a twinkle in his eye. “You bring the stew and I’ll bring the
dessert.”

She laughed at this.

“I’m standing right here,” Killian
complained. “That’s my mother, after all.”

“Aye, but she’s been my wife longer,” his
father said, elbowing him playfully as she walked out of the
workshop back to the house. “How do you think you got here,
lad?”

“Far too much information,” Killian said.
Then he grinned before walking out toward the stable. “I’ll see you
both in three days, Eliam willing. And I don’t want a baby brother
on the way when I return.”

“Get going, and no promises!” his father
called after him.

Killian paused to pick up the scabbard for
the sword from the work bench where he had finished it the night
before. He deposited the sword, noting the perfect fit with
satisfaction. With a smile on his face, he wrapped the blade in a
heavy cloth to protect the finish and tied it with cord. Then,
bundle in hand, he went out to find Esmeralda.

 

 

 

The stable that adjoined the workshop at the
rear of the building was an addition, but was still made of
quarried graystone like the rest of the structure. Veins of black
and white ran through the blocks here and there, setting off many
of the buildings in Rainier. Graystone was light and durable and
found in plenteous supply near the city. However, it was not nearly
as grand as the more costly goldstone that made up the palace of
the king; for through the gray blocks ran rivulets of purest gold
in marble-like patterns.

Killian’s family were commoners, but
commoners of the First Order, meaning his father could receive
commissions from any of the Royal Orders; even the king. Needless
to say, all Common Order businessmen desired to ascend in social
status to the level of First Order because these were the truly
lucrative contracts. Killian and his family lived very comfortably.
He could not recall ever lacking for food, like many who dwelled in
the Mud Districts beyond Rainier’s high wall—named so for the
materials used for constructing their homes.

These Thirds, or Third Order Commoners, lived
in relative poverty. It may have been said that they survived, but
little more than that. Their dwellings were simple mud brick homes
that provided shelter without much comfort. Many of these Thirds
served in unskilled jobs within Rainier and without the wall,
maintaining sanitation or working on farms that surrounded the city
on all sides and fed many cities besides the king’s own.

Yet, one had to have skills like Killian’s
father to ascend to First Order. He was a bladesmith and possibly
the most skilled arms maker in all of Rainier. He had a reputation
for excellent quality that brought him contracts from far cities.
If it had been possible, royals from the other great houses would
have purchased their arms from Radden. He was just that well
known.

Besides, few others had the connections
required in order to have a blade, or other weapon, blessed by the
Priestess of Eliam. The Malkind priests had their wands, but not
even a wand could withstand a blessed blade. They were rare and
powerful and connected with Eliam’s creation. Some had the
characteristic of controlling fire, or water, or the earth.

The Malkind, worshipped among the great
houses and in their great capital cities, had rebelled against
Eliam after man was fashioned in his image and given dominion of
the world. These dishonorable spirits opposed Eliam and made the
rulers of the great houses to have dominion over other men. As long
as they worshipped them and promoted the same in others, they had
the power of the wands and the Bright Ones. These Daughters of
Eliam were slaves to the great houses and were bred expressly for
the purpose of bonding with the high princes in order to secure
power over the lower orders of Eliam’s creation.

Many believed, and the Malkind priests
taught, that Eliam had been overthrown long ago and his creation
and his people, like the Bright Ones, became the property of the
Malkind spirits. However, Killian and others like him did not hold
to these teachings. They still hoped in Eliam, though to do so
openly meant banishment or death.

Killian wondered why the Priestess of Eliam,
who lived in a secret place known to only a very few, would bother
to give Eliam’s blessings and confer power upon weapons such as
these, when they would end up in the hands of royals. He had never
thought to ask his father, and never felt he had the opportunity to
ask the priestess. However, he was considering just this
question—reverently, of course.

Killian picked a blue apple from the barrel
that stayed just inside the door to the stable. Horses love all
kinds of apples, but it was the blue sea apples that Esmeralda
enjoyed most. There were only a few horses in Radden’s stable, and
Esmeralda dwelt like a queen among them. She was Killian’s father’s
horse, and a more faithful animal could not be found.

He called to her before reaching her stall,
and she soon thrust her head out to find him coming. She expected
the apples by now. Killian always brought her one, and she loved
him as much or more than she did Radden.

Killian gave her the apple and laid his hand
on her muzzle. Thoughts of pleasure, happiness, and eagerness came
to him from Esmeralda. She chewed the apple and allowed him to
stroke her sleek black coat along her jaw and down her neck.

“Are you ready to go, Esmeralda?”

She knickered in reply.

“Father is sending us to the priestess,”
Killian added. He held forth the bundle for her inspection. “We’re
to see this blade blessed by Eliam and whatever power conferred
that he might bestow.”

Esmeralda acknowledged the report with a
slight bobbing of her head. Certainly, she was a special horse and
a fine specimen of Equine nobility, but her ability to understand
the spoken language of her master was a common characteristic among
very intelligent animals. Horses, though not having the ability to
speak with the voices of men, were able to convey emotions through
touch, and many humans possessed the ability to interpret those
impulses.

Killian was just such an individual. Often,
in his youth, he would come to relate to Esmeralda particular
events or situations that perplexed or angered him. The horse would
convey to him her feelings on such matters, and Killian had found
her to be often very encouraging to him; though occasionally her
thoughts were the opposite of his hoped-for response and she would
scold him instead.

Going to the back of her large stall, Killian
removed a blanket and saddle and bridle to outfit Esmeralda for
travel. When she was ready to go, he secured the bundle containing
the king’s sword to the saddle, opened her gate and led her out
into the yard. He could feel her desire to be let loose through
another pat on her neck.

Smiling, he said, “Away, Esmeralda!”

With plenty of money in his purse and his
mark of patronage, Killian knew he could secure a room for the
night and a good meal in an inn along the way. He would spend the
rest of the day into the evening traveling across Rainier to the
Eastern Gate. Here, he and Esmeralda could refresh themselves
before leaving the city tomorrow and heading for the Brine Wood
where Eliam’s priestess awaited.

 

 

 

A Mother’s Love

 

Evelyn stood before the full length mirror in
her room. The gilt looking glass reflected an image of a woman not
quite forty years old, though her true age was closer to fifty. She
had taken care for her appearance, and time had been kind. She was
wife to the king and mistress to the royal house of Rainier, but
Evelyn was not the king’s bond.

She was not one of the Daughters of Eliam.
Her authority was that of queen, not the lower position of a slave.
As mistress, she ruled with her husband, while his bond, a woman
well beyond her prime already, had been relegated to the role of
concubine.

Not that this was any threat to Evelyn.
Certainly, her husband, Stephen, had visited that woman’s chambers
from time to time. It was so with slaves among all of the royal
houses. They provided power to their royal bonds and diversions in
the night. Evelyn bore the children and had sole claim to her
husband’s love, but men are what they are. Their appetites can be
tiring after a while. Evelyn did not think it so terrible to wield
the authority while the bond sated Stephen’s overactive masculine
indulgences in her place when she felt unwilling.

She felt no jealousy. No bond could ever
supplant her. No Daughter of Eliam could ever become queen. They
were and always would be property. The mistress held her husband’s
authority and the final say in the business of the house.

Her blonde hair was pulled up in a braided
bun that allowed the collar of her gown to be seen high on her thin
neck. A clear diamond pendant the size of an egg sat just above her
breastbone. The gown itself was burgundy with silver accents and
lace sleeves.

The wand sleeve woven into her dress held a
rod of silver with ancient runes carved into the metal. They
outlined the breadth of power it wielded and its limitations. When
the previous mistress of House Rainier had passed, the wand had
waited for Stephen to marry. When Evelyn became the new mistress,
the wand came to her; literally appearing for the first time in her
hand at the conclusion of the royal wedding. It had been with her
ever since.

With her right hand, she removed the silver
wand from the sleeve of her left arm. Though some who used Malkind
wands spoke to them their commands, those who held a deeper
understanding applied their own blood in order to create an
inseparable bond. Evelyn was such a person. She only needed to
think her commands now, and her wand obeyed.

Even so, Evelyn held the wand up to her lips,
speaking the name of her eldest son. “Nathan of House Rainier.”

The tip of the silver Malkind wand began to
glow with white light, like sparkling crystal. The runes carved
along the length of the wand shimmered with this same light. Evelyn
waited a moment while her wand communicated with another held by
Nathan Rainier. Had he been a commoner with no privilege, she could
instantly have communicated, finding him in whatsoever state he
happened to be in at the time. He could have been on the privy, and
her image would appear there with him unannounced.

However, Nathan’s royal heritage guaranteed
him a wand, and it protected him from such intrusions, intercepting
her transmitted image and notifying him by a similar glow and an
audible bell chime. After a moment, the bed chamber around Evelyn
changed, becoming the palace study of her son, Nathan. The details
were exact, and it was as if she actually stood in that distant
chamber with the young man. However, this was only an illusion, and
one that Nathan did not share. He still saw his study, only with
her standing in the room. As the traveler in this communication,
her viewpoint was the only one to change.

The eldest son of King Stephen was tall with
broad shoulders like his father. His dark hair was neatly styled
and cropped above his high collar. His eyes were a very light
brown, bordering on amber. He was nearly the image of his father at
the same age, and looking at him caused Evelyn’s heart to ache for
the days when Stephen courted her as his bride.

BOOK: Raven's Hand
10.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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