Raven's Hand (8 page)

These beastly men were surprised also; though
they found Celia easily enough when they went into the other side
of the carriage. My young friend was clearly dazed and confused
when one of them dragged her out. She didn’t even have the
awareness left to scream.

Celia stumbled and fell as she was thrust
among the Cindermen gathered around the wagon. One of them, having
a lion’s features, stepped toward her. He grabbed her hair and
jerked her head up without pity. I ran to her in my incorporeal
form, but I could do nothing but fall to my knees at her side.

She cried out.

The lion-like man pulled a dagger from his
belt, holding it aloft for the others to see, and then dragged the
blade unceremoniously across Celia’s throat. Her pitiful scream was
instantly silenced. Her lifeblood issued out onto the ground. I was
screaming now, but no one heard me. The Cinderman jerked her head
around to make sure Celia was dead. Satisfied, he let go. Her head
dropped onto the ground.

I fell beside her, my eyes opened in shock. I
could not speak. I could not think. Celia’s lifeless eyes stared
toward me. I searched them helplessly, but she was gone. Celia was
dead.

I should have died in her place. It should
have been my blood spilled here upon the dusty ground. By my
stubborn questions, I had killed my dearest friend.

Moments later, the scene on the road, where
soldiers lay dying and wailing in pain had faded. The Cindermen
were still killing the young men when the face of my dead friend
vanished. I was left upon the cold, ancient flagstones by the coy
pond. The fish jittered and played as they had before my influence
had overpowered their natural whimsy.

I couldn’t move. My limbs were like great
stones, unyielding. I wanted to run, to cry out for help. We had to
pursue Lady Rainier’s caravan immediately. Perhaps, it was not too
late.

However, I did nothing. I could do nothing.
My body was still reeling from the scene of carnage and death.
Then, all at once, I returned fully to myself.

My chest heaved in deep breaths, and the
sobbing began. My tears flowed almost violently. I was drowning in
them. I convulsed with the effort of relieving my pent-up
sorrow.

Most of the girls were working the vineyard
today. There was no one near enough to hear my crying. All that I
could not express during the vision flooded forth.

Celia was dead. I already sensed, without
reservation, that I had witnessed these events unfold in real time.
She had just left me in the world. I was alone.

Killian’s face came into my mind. He
attempted to console me. I longed for my dream to take real life
and comfort me; hold me so that I could cry upon his breast. He
would never let me go. He would protect me from the horror I had
just witnessed. He would assure me that everything would be all
right.

If only he had been real.

The carriages were still burning from
flaming-pitched arrows a half hour after the Cindermen retreated.
They had fallen upon Lady Rainier’s caravan like vultures upon a
carcass. The wagons were all but destroyed. Only a very few of the
transports had survived the ordeal. Even those that had survived
had arrows protruding from them like oversized pin cushions.

As bad as the situation was with the
carriages and wagons, the matter was even worse for the men hired
by House Rainier to keep its lady safe. Many of the soldiers were
now dead, or dying with no hope of a surgeon to save them. It fell
upon the survivors to search the ruined caravan for the Lady
herself.

Throughout the attack, the survivors had seen
no sign of Lady Evelyn Rainier. Her armored carriage had been
pummeled by a Cinderman war elephant, but the soldiers never had
laid eyes on her and neither had her attackers. From the heap of
twisted armor plating only the girl had been discovered by their
enemies.

This bond from among the Daughters of Eliam
had been dragged from the wreckage, dazed and confused, and put to
death by the leader of the Cindermen, a lion-faced brute called
Judah. Though none of the soldiers here had seen him before, the
stories of the Cinderman chieftain were already legendary. Surely,
this beastly man was the same person.

“It was foolish for Lady Rainier to be sent
so far without her personal bodyguard,” one of the soldiers
remarked as they stared at the battered carriage.

Other men kneeled around the young girl. They
examined her carefully. Clearly, she was quite dead. There was no
salvaging her even by Malkind magic, as far as they could
observe.

Another soldier standing near the carriage
turned at the remark from the first. His arm was bleeding from a
grievous looking wound. A sword had hacked into the meat of his
upper arm. Only a torn piece of shirt fabric, taken from a fallen
comrade, had slowed the bleeding to something more manageable.
Nodding, he said, “Kane would have killed them single-handed. I’ve
personally seen him fight twenty men at once.”

The half dozen other guards standing around
nodded their agreement with this man’s statement. They had all
either seen the former assassin in action, or they had heard the
stories. No one in Rainier, or any other great house for that
matter, was as deadly a man as Kane.

The men were startled from their musing by
the creaking of metal coming from the direction of Lady Rainier’s
armored carriage. The men who still carried weapons raised them in
alarm, searching for the source of the noise, hoping the Cindermen
had not returned. Inside the half lit carriage, something moved. A
door groaned upon warped hinges. An arm was seen, then a leg and
another.

Slowly but surely, a figure wearing Lady
Rainier’s clothing emerged from a compartment beneath the carriage
floor. The soldiers were all staring at her dumbfounded when she
crawled to the door. They had no idea such a compartment was
incorporated into the armored carriage’s design.

Evelyn emerged in the carriage doorway,
looking every bit as disheveled as her pitiful band of soldiers.
There was a bruise upon her cheek and forehead, but no blood. Lady
Rainier had survived the attack of the Cindermen.

“Don’t just stand their gawping, you fools,”
she said finally, when none of them moved to assist her. “Help me
out of this contraption!”

Her tone snapped them to attention.
Instantly, the whole group, as well as the wounded, moved into
action, attempting the best way to extricate their mistress from
the wreckage of her armored carriage. In moments, they had her out,
standing on her own two feet next to the dead body of Prince
Nathan’s intended bond.

Evelyn sighed heavily but did not speak right
away.

One of the higher ranking men among her
injured officers—a man wearing leather armor with Rainier’s silver
crest upon the breastplate—offered his report. “It was the
Cindermen, Mistress,” he said uneasily.

Most of the survivors understood the
implications of the girl’s death. House Rainier was now vulnerable.
Because of the king’s poor health, they stood in need of his heir
to ascend to the throne in order to lead and show strength before
the other great houses. Otherwise, the throne would be at risk. A
war might even erupt among the houses as they vied for
position.

Evelyn continued to stare at the girl’s dead
body. The ground around her was stained with blood.

“My lady?” the officer asked hesitantly.
“Your orders?”

She looked at him for the first time now, her
expression considerate. “Gather what resources we have left,
including as many operable wagons as possible,” she said. “We must
return as quickly as possible to Rainier.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the officer replied, preparing
to set the other men in motion.

“However,” Evelyn continued, “I want your
best horse and most capable rider to return to the abbey. Inform
the matron of what has happened and instruct her to prepare the
oldest girl, Raven, for her journey to Rainier. My son needs a bond
in order to ascend to the throne and he will have one.”

The officer nodded his understanding. “Yes,
my lady,” he said. “It will be done as you require.”

She turned to another soldier standing next
to the officer. “See that my belongings, at least all that are
salvageable, are placed into one of the carriages for the trip to
Rainier.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said.

The soldier began to depart with several
others in tow before turning again, looking at Celia’s body.
“Ma’am, would you like us to tend to the girl’s body first?”

Evelyn brushed back her straying strands of
hair, pausing to look at the body. “A waste of our time, young
man,” she replied.

“Ma’am?”

“The ravens will tend to the dead,” she said.
“See to my things, at once. We must be on our way.”

The men looked at one another and then obeyed
the Lady’s wishes. Evelyn did not spare Celia’s body another
glance. She turned toward what was left of her caravan and walked
away.

Killian bent low at the waist before
Priestess Shalindra. Even Esmeralda made her best attempt, bowing
her head in respect to the woman. Bright green eyes stared back at
them. Shalindra nodded ever so slightly, but waited for Killian to
begin to speak before suddenly interrupting him.

“Killian, Son of Radden,” she said. “I have
seen you as you’ve made your journey to the Brine Wood.”

Killian tried not to smile. “Indeed, my
lady,” he replied respectfully. “My father has sent me with this
sword.” He removed the bundle from Esmeralda’s saddle. “It is his
hope that Eliam will bless the blade with special power.”

“I know what he hopes,” Shalindra said. “The
blade is meant for the prince of House Rainier.”

Unsure what to say in reply, Killian simply
nodded in agreement. Her tone remained devoid of emotion, but
something about her words set him on edge. Would she refuse to
bless the blade in Eliam’s name because of the one who commissioned
its creation? He wouldn’t have thought so, but now Killian wasn’t
sure. Something seemed wrong here, but he couldn’t put his finger
on it.

“Does it trouble your father that such a
Malkind follower as Prince Nathan should receive a blade blessed by
Eliam the Creator?” Shalindra asked, now seeming somewhat
peeved.

Killian frowned, unsure how to respond.
Finally, he said, “All of the great houses are led by Malkind
worshippers.”

A hint of a smile played at the corners of
Shalindra’s mouth. There came a twinkle into her eyes. “You’re
right,” she said, “they are.”

“But you have blessed other weapons my father
has produced,” Killian added quickly.

“Not I,” Shalindra countered, wagging a
finger at him as though correcting a naughty child.

“Then Eliam,” Killian replied with a little
agitation now. “Eliam blessed each weapon with special power.
Surely, he knew each one would go to a Malkind follower.”

She smiled openly now. “He did,” she
confirmed.

Killian paused, feeling a little exasperated
by this turn of the conversation. “Then I’m afraid I don’t quite
understand your point, mistress.”

Shalindra nodded approvingly. “You may not be
at your destination yet, Killian Radden-son, but at least you’ve
set your foot on the road.”

Killian looked at Esmeralda who looked also
at him. He sensed the same bewilderment in her that he felt
himself.

“What road are you referring to?” Killian
asked.

“The road to change,” she said, beginning to
walk around among the ancient tumbled stones of the temple. “Do you
believe in Eliam, child?”

“Of course, I do,” he said reverently.

Shalindra grinned as she meandered around a
pillar, drawing ever closer to the place where Killian stood beside
Esmeralda. “What do you believe
about
Eliam?” she asked.

Killian paused for a moment and then began to
answer with what he had been taught from his youth. “Eliam is the
one true God and the Creator of all things. He is all powerful, all
knowing and present in every place.” When he finished his
recitation, he examined his answer and felt satisfied with what he
had said. Though odd, it seemed Shalindra was in the mood to test
him.

“And the Malkind?” she asked, winding around
another pillar of stacked stones.

Killian answered even quicker this time,
remembering his mother’s lessons with more fluidity now. “The
Malkind are created beings. They once served Eliam, but rebelled
against him after man was created. They now seek followers from
among men and seduce them to worship by the promise of power in the
world.”

Shalindra came ever closer, now walking
directly toward him. “And who, young Radden-son, is the greater
between Creator and created?”

Killian paused once more. This wasn’t a
question that had ever been posed by his mother during their
fireside lessons. He glanced at Esmeralda and then returned his
attention to the priestess. “Eliam, as Creator, must be greater.”
He puzzled over the matter again and his answer, finally coming to
the conclusion that it wasn’t a trick question, but still not
comprehending where all of this was leading.

Shalindra stopped in front of him.
“Obviously,” she said. “So why then does Eliam allow matters with
the Malkind to stand as they are in the world?”

To this question Killian had no ready
response. He stood there with Shalindra’s gaze resting upon him,
but he could not answer. In all honesty, he couldn’t recall such a
question ever entering his thoughts.

After a few moments of awkward silence,
Killian shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot say, mistress. Perhaps,
you can enlighten me?”

“Eliam has a grand plan that will ultimately
end with the judgment and destruction of the Malkind and their
followers,” she explained. “However, those who follow Eliam will
live forever.”