Raven’s Cry

Standalone prequel to the Broken Gears world and dark fantasy retelling of Swan Lake

Part 1
Fourth Age: The Wolf

~The Prayer~

“Oh stars, not again. Please, not again.”

The words came to my lips as automatically as the air I breathed, but as desperately as if death snapped at my heels. I faced the horizon. Above that stark, cold line, the first pink rays of sunlight were beginning to break through the velvety indigo. As soon as that glowing orange orb crested the horizon, I felt the magic begin to pulse through my veins like a terrible and perfect symphony. It begins in my heart, my very core, and spreads with each beat, circulating poison.

“Please, just once. Just for one day, let me have peace.”

The melody running through my veins soon surrounds me like a warm, gentle wind, but it holds no comfort. It’s filled with grief and sorrow. Soft, unnatural light joins the wind. I can see it as my vision changes, a graceful cyclone of disturbance around me. Then comes the darkness. The sensation of soft feathers whispers against my skin until sight returns to me.

The world has not changed, yet all is different now.

~Chapter 1~

Excitement rippled through the nobility that evening as reports of a newcomer to our small court spread. His name was Nicodemus, Duke Gregory’s friend, esteemed guest, and mysterious magus. Dinners at the Ivory Palace were meant for the court only, but who in their right mind would refuse such a rare opportunity? Not our cunning regents, that was for certain.

Magi lived in secluded communities outside of our cities and towns. They communed with nature and went out of their way to avoid contact with the outside world, or so the most common accounts went. The tales I heard whispered that evening seemed ill-fitting and farfetched. He was wealthy, though no one knew how he had acquired his money. He was also reclusive—at least that part was in keeping with the rest of his kind—but he had built himself a dwelling more akin to what one would find in the city. Duke Gregory had only met him because his hunting party had stumbled upon the man’s house when a storm forced them to seek refuge.

“It’s set deep in the woods, surrounded by orchards and gardens,” Countess Melody of the Bladed Mountains and Valley said. “He has a menagerie of animals and a grand estate half the size of the palace.”

“I bet he’s a smuggler, dark and lonely and misunderstood.”

“You’ve been reading too many adventure stories.”

“Do you think he’s looking for a wife?”

I took a deep breath as I strolled through the crowd, holding back the wave of fear rising from my chest. I’d just had a revelation of my own. If I sought to slake my curiosity, I would have to… mingle.

I was just as curious about the newcomer, to be sure. Curiosity is in my nature, but it’s so much easier to learn from books than from people. Books don’t judge you or ask prying questions.

Perhaps I should leave, I thought. I can ask around about him tomorrow. Maybe I can feign sickness.

With such a relatively small court—Queen Gertrude and King Ansel Pendragon, three duchies, six counties, eighteen baronies, and an associated spouse for most—I knew most everyone fairly well. So I shouldn’t have been nervous. You’d think so anyway. I had grown up around all of these people. I knew the names and faces, the quirks and proclivities, and the associated perks and favors owed to serve my people. The categorization of these onto lists and their subsequent utilization were my forte, but the banal face-to-face interactions in between always turned my stomach. Whoever decided small talk was a useful pastime should be shot.

At least most of the rest of the Southern Assembly was not here tonight, as the weather back home was currently turning marvelous. I envied them. I only came to Prism, the capital, because my family was visiting on business. Many northerners were here, however. They didn’t love the harsh winters that blew down from the Bladed Mountains. A mixture of the Midlands Assembly—those in charge of the city of Prism and the regions around it—was here too, plus everyone’s children who were of age.

Yes, I think I’ll catch up tomorrow, I decided.

I had just turned towards the closest exit when an arm wrapped around my shoulders and gave them a friendly squeeze.

“Going somewhere, Cali?” From the corner of my eye, I saw a warm, teasing smile spread across a face I knew as well as my own.

“Uncle Ducky, I think I’m going to be ill,” I whispered.

“Nonsense!” he guffawed. “It’s just nerves. Here, some wine should sort you out.”

He snapped a waiter over to us and handed me a crystal goblet of crimson courage. I sipped politely, knowing I was going nowhere.

“Have you seen him yet?” Ducky asked, his eyes scanning the room like a Gryphon on the hunt.

“No. I think I’ll—”

“There he is!” Ducky thundered so suddenly I jumped, nearly spilling my wine. “Gregory, my good man!”

Ducky then whisked me towards the Duke of the North. Trailing him was obviously the man called Nicodemus.

The magus dressed in the same fashion as every other man in the room, but he glowed with power. It rested on the surface of his skin, a halo of light so faint I questioned my eyes. It remained, and so I realized somewhere in the back of my mind he truly was luminous, if only slightly. To be honest, I was so caught up in keeping my composure, I almost failed to notice this marvel.

“Richard!” replied Duke Gregory. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight. You’re missing some prime hunting days.”

“Pah, business had to come first, I’m afraid. But isn’t our timing fortunate?” Ducky reached a meaty, enthusiastic hand out to the newcomer. “The man of the hour. You must be Nicodemus. Duke Richard Jones, Lord and Servant-Protector of the Southern Reaches. And this beauty of heart and spirit is my niece and potential heir, Lady Calandra Allen. Currently unattached, if you can believe it. And you?”

I felt my face warm with an unwelcome blush. The villainous plot had reared its ugly head again! My older brother, Carlos, was destined to be the Count of Bone Port and the surrounding Bone Bay territory, thank the heavens. I think everyone in my family was pleased with our birth order, as I had shown little interest in marriage. Ducky, however, had his own aspirations for me and liked to dangle a much larger inheritance like a carrot.

I was nineteen then. Most ladies my age were already married. My parents, shrewd but kind people, weren’t what you would call nurturing, but they also weren’t monsters. They wouldn’t force me into a life sure to make me miserable. Secretly, I think the way every court event exhausted me worried my family. Ducky believed having someone to help shoulder responsibility would fix everything.

To be quite honest, the idea of marriage terrified me. Or rather, I wasn’t interested in anyone we knew, and the idea of getting to know new people was enough to make me run for the hills. People are so very tiresome, you know. Where my parents had begrudgingly accepted this, Ducky had redoubled his efforts and practically threw me at every new and eligible young man we came across. He never gave a copper crown about decorum.

As Ducky ushered me forward, I resisted the urge to point out that he was also unattached. It was possible the magus, like Ducky, preferred men, and I wanted to remove the attention from myself. I wanted even more to stay out of Ducky’s game entirely, though it was a bit late for that.

The cloaked magus chuckled softly and smiled, reaching for my hand. I offered it to him smoothly. That, at least, was something I had done often enough to execute without thinking. When Nicodemus took my hand and bowed, I felt warmth emanate from his skin. That subtle glow limning his figure combined with the sensation of a late spring breeze washing over me, he might well have been a small star. I smiled and, for once, it was not by rote.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said. His voice thrummed warmly in the low din of the grand dining room, a sound I both wanted and needed to draw closer to hear. “No titles, I’m afraid.”

“Not even a surname?” I asked. In my periphery, I saw Ducky’s eyes flicker towards me.

I could practically hear the wiry hairs of his beard bristle with excitement. I had broached something like actual conversation with the most intimidating stranger we had ever met! Wonders never cease.

“Not even a surname,” Nicodemus replied. “My people have no need of such.”

“Your people?” I asked.

Nicodemus looked around, and I followed his gaze. Nausea returned as I realized every eye in the room had swiveled onto to us, and I wished to disappear into my bejeweled shoes.

“Lady and gents, would you all mind if we moved this conversation outside? I’m feeling a bit warm,” Nicodemus said.

Stars, yes! Thank goodness, I thought.

We made our way out to a veranda overlooking the royal gardens in the distance. Along the way, Ducky suspiciously managed to entangle himself and Duke Gregory in a conversation with Baroness Leliana, who had half a dozen or so eligible daughters.

I felt people watching us as we made our escape, but no one moved to join us just yet. They wouldn’t risk appearing too eager. Save for Baroness Leliana, that is, but with so many daughters, who could blame her? They’d have to crowd the doorway to spy on us, and that wouldn’t reflect very well on them at all. They may have been a swarm of ogling, goose-necking gossips, but heaven forbid they actually let it show!

I gulped the cool outside air, lightly scented with recently bloomed honeysuckle. My heart immediately slowed without all those faces peering over glasses and whispering behind hands.

“Your… uncle, was it? He seems quite friendly,” Nicodemus began.

I could tell he was taking care not to offend me, but he clearly had questions too. Ducky was fair with neat ginger hair, and I was nearly as dark as my father with wild ebony locks that barely capitulated to the strokes of a brush.

“He’s not really my uncle,” I explained. “Not by blood, but in every other sense. Apologies. I’m not being clea—.” I blinked at him. “Your glow is gone.”

Nicodemus rubbed the back of his neck and replied, “Ah, yes. That’s a little party trick Duke Gregory requested.”

He gifted me another smile. It sat sheepish and crooked on his face, as if it wasn’t brought out terribly often and therefore unpracticed.

What a shame, I thought, surprising myself with the sentiment.

“I understand,” I said with an answering smile, soft and encouraging. There was a pause, and I sipped my wine.

“I had no idea the court was so numerous.”

I was grateful for the new thread of conversation and picked it up perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“There are even more than this,” I told him before explaining about the Southern Assembly. “We’re small compared to the Arnavi, though. Those are our neighbors from across the sea. Their Nish, erm, government, is like a spider’s web.”

“Ah.”

I seemed to have led Nicodemus into another conversational dead end. A tiny cry suddenly peeped from the edge of the veranda. Without thinking, I turned away and walked towards the sound. The sides of the veranda were latticed and overgrown with thick foliage. Carefully hunting through the leaves and vines along the stone floor, I found my prize. A baby bird, half feathered and still blind, sat caught in the exuberant plant life.

“You poor thing!” I cooed. I scooped underneath him, catching up a few leaves as I did. “Come here, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s probably going to die anyway, you know,” Ducky’s voice grumbled from behind me.

He and Duke Gregory had apparently rejoined us when my back was turned. I suspected Ducky could smell the conversation dying and had come to rescue it.

“Well, perhaps not now,” I replied, almost whispering. “Look at him. He needs me.”

Ducky came into view at my side. A comforting whiff of pipe smoke and whiskey floated towards me as he drew close to my cupped hands.

“Definitely going to die,” he asserted.

“Uncle Ducky, you’re horrible.” Nevertheless, I was smiling.

He always did this to me. I looked around for the nest and spotted a scraggly collection of twigs and straw above.

“Give me a boost,” I said.

Without further protest, Ducky got on one knee and offered himself as a step stool. He held one of my hands for support as I carefully lifted the baby bird, which was cheeping plaintively in my palm, towards the nest. As gently as I could, I deposited the little dear back into it.

Brushing my hands together with satisfaction, I said, “There now. All better.”

“That was very kind.”

I turned, surprised at hearing Nicodemus speak. I had altogether forgotten about him and was thankful for the way the darkness hid my blush.

“I, er, I just hope he’ll be alright. Or she. It couldn’t have been an easy fall.”

“Might I check?” Nicodemus offered, and that uncertain smile reappeared.

“Can you?” I asked. “I mean, um, by all means, please.”

“I have a gift with birds,” was all he offered by way of explanation.

The power rolling off of Nicodemus was palpable as he strode forward. His glow returned, brighter than before, as he reached his hands towards the nest. His dark eyes glinted through a broken wall of dark, messy tresses. This was the most alive I had ever seen anyone. You know the sparks that form in dry, cold weather? Nicodemus seemed made of those. I was honestly concerned he might set something on fire. Nothing nearly so spectacular transpired, however. He merely glowed for a few moments and then stopped. It was there and gone so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it.

“Well, that was certainly… something,” Ducky said.

I burst into laughter. Never, in all the years I had known him, had I heard Ducky at a loss for words.

“If you think that’s impressive, you should have seen some of the wonders he spun for us at his home,” Duke Gregory said.

Nicodemus began to object when Ducky demanded, “Show us one.”

“Ducky!” I scolded. “He is not a trick pony. Nicodemus, I apologize. My uncle forgets himself when he is excited.” I shot Ducky a glare.

Nicodemus shook his head. “It’s quite alright—”

“Then let’s see something!” Ducky pressed. “Just one miracle, eh?”

Nicodemus glanced at Duke Gregory, who nodded once. The magus sighed and gave in. With a graceful twirl of his hand, he conjured the image of a perfect sunset colored rose. Dipping his head, he handed the rose to me.

“It’s real!” I gasped as my fingers grasped the cool stem.

“It’s not,” Nicodemus assured me. “It’s easier to see through once you know it’s an illusion.”

I concentrated, telling myself I held nothing but air. Eventually, I could no longer feel the stem between my fingers, and the rose grew translucent, but it still moved with my hand. As I mused on this phenomenon, a wretched, torn sound suddenly ripped through the uneasy peace we had found on the quiet veranda.

The scream silenced the murmuring court within first. I hurried back towards the doors and looked in, though Ducky blocked most of my view as he took a defensive stance before me. Everyone looked at one another, waiting, hoping we had perhaps imagined it. The scream came again, louder and angrier, closely followed by glass shattering above us. We shrieked as shards rained down from the crystalline dome which had, until a few moments ago, topped the royal dining room. What had caused the damage was far more terrifying, however.

A Rukk, one of the enormous, predatory birds against which we had no defense. The creature’s talons were the size of a man, its beak large enough to swallow an elk whole. Looking back, I realize it was a lucky thing its wings were so large. Only that saved us from certain death. The Rukk’s outstretched wings could not fit through the shattered dome. Despite the glass jabbing into its flesh, the Rukk jerked and bobbed, trying to snatch up some delicious human morsels by any means possible.

People ran in every direction, yelping in panic. Carlos and his family were, thankfully, back in Bone Port, but I needed to locate my parents. I had to ensure they were safe. Before I could spot them in the scrambling mass, a voice deeper and louder than humanly possible thundered through the room.

“STOP!”

To this day, I don’t know if he was addressing us or the Rukk. The people, however, obeyed and froze in their tracks. Every head turned, and we saw Nicodemus staring up at the Rukk. His body sizzled with blue and silver light as his eyes shifted between indescribable colors. He made a sweeping gesture for us to get back. We did so without question, pressing ourselves against the walls, unable to tear our eyes from the incandescent magus. The Rukk ignored his commands, and alarmingly deep cracks began to pattern the ceiling around where the dome had been. Bits of it were already falling down around us. Thank the stars no one had been struck by falling debris.

Nicodemus raised his hands skyward and glowed brighter yet. The clouds rumbled above, and a great crack shredded the air as the sky ripped open. Sweat beaded on his brow. We all recognized what he was doing, but I don’t think any of us believed it. Tales circulated about magi calling nature itself to their aid, harnessing the power of the elements, but those were the most fantastical stories of all. Before that night, I didn’t know anyone who actually believed it was possible.

The heavens grew angrier, as did the Rukk. Boulder-sized chunks of stone and plaster dropped from the ceiling. The Rukk had nearly broken through, the combination of its weight and efforts severely compromising the strength of the roof above us. Nicodemus thrust his fists into the air and, with a pained heave, dragged a bolt of lightning from the tumultuous clouds, striking the Rukk with it. The Rukk shrieked so loudly it shook the windows, cracking most of them. Nicodemus grabbed more bolts, quickly pulling smaller ones, spearing them into the Rukk. It was one well-placed—or perhaps just lucky—jolt to the Rukk’s skull which finally bested the horrible beast. As it slumped over dead, the bird’s head slid through the shattered dome, its golden eyes staring blankly at us all.

During the next moments that passed, the stillness crackled with the question of whether or not the danger had truly passed. Nicodemus hunched with exhaustion, looked around him and took in our gaping faces. Queen Gertrude and King Ansel appeared from the crowd and tentatively crossed beneath the hanging head. Nicodemus straightened halfway up before folding over again into a weak bow.

“Your majesties…” he puffed. “I… I apologize…”

Queen Gertrude silenced him with a single raised finger.

“Speak no more except to answer this: is it truly dead?”

“Yes, my Queen. It is.”

And thus was Nicodemus’ introduction to the royal court of Invarnis.

Out of the Shadows

Into the Fire

Across the Ice

Falcon’s Favor