Sign of the White Raven: Chapter 1

Greetings,

The following is a draft of the first chapter of Sign of the White Raven: Book 2 of The Chronicles of Aertu.  Enjoy.

Chapter 1

Sildaenday, Day 29, Squash Moon. 8765 Sudean Calendar

Aleron awoke in the darkness of the cellar they called home for the last two days.  Some light filtered between the floorboards, so he could dimly see his companions.  They managed to remain hidden whenever the tavern staff came down for supplies and nightly forays to the kitchen yielded the water necessary for their continued survival.  He knew it was only a matter of time before someone discovered them, so they needed to move on soon.  He still had no inkling of even a sense for the magic he knew must be all around him, so they needed to find a way to spirit themselves out of the city without it.  In the early hours past midnight the day prior, he and Geldun ventured out into the city, while Barathol and Eilowyn stayed to guard their hiding place.  They managed to find some clean men’s clothing that would fit Eilowyn, left hanging on the line, from the evening prior.  This morning Geldun and Barathol prepared to find some boots that would work better than the slippers she wore from the palace.  He hoped that they would find something early, so they could move out before sunrise.  Every day brought them closer to discovery, if they did not move.  He understood Kolixtlani fairly well and eavesdropping on the tavern patrons revealed talk of house-to-house searches conducted by palace forces, searching for the murderers of the King.  He also overheard news of Ehacatl’s coronation in two more days and that the priests would sacrifice the fugitives, if captured, in his honor. The voices upstairs were becoming fewer and he knew the tavern would close soon.  Barathol and Geldun were ready to move out, their faces freshly blackened with soot, unarmored and armed with only their long knives, for stealth.

“So, if we find boots, we head straight for the harbor and try to steal a boat?” Geldun verified.

“And, if that doesn’t work out, we hole up in a warehouse or something, until tomorrow night,” Barathol continued.  They could not go east, toward Castia, as the Palace complex lay in that direction.  The river blocked by the way west and that direction only took them to the Central Jungle, crawling with goblins and wild men.  South to the dwarvish kingdom required they cross the bulk of Kolixtlan by the longest route.  The fastest way out of the city of Kolixtla was north, to the harbor and then west, by boat.  The marines had enough experience to feasibly pilot a small fishing vessel and that lay at the core of their plan.  With Aleron unable to transform them, or even cast glamour over their features, there was no way for them to blend in with the local populace, so for now, darkness was their only defense.

Aleron just murmured agreement.  Since the incident, the other two took the lead on most things.  He seemed unable to break out of the funk he was experiencing since the magic left him. It’s like being blind, he kept thinking to himself. I suddenly can’t see what I’ve been able to see plainly for over five years. I should be able to see colors all around me down here, but instead it’s just dark.

“Snap out of it, Al,” Geldun hissed.  “We need you on top of things if this is going to work.  Stop moping, or we’ll never make it.  We need you working with us, not just tagging along.”

“I’ll try, Gel.  It’s just been hard, not being able to see anything anymore.”

***

Ehacatl paced the halls of the uppermost level of the royal palace, which housed the royal family.  He hardly slept at all, these last two days, since the Sudeans killed his father and laid waste to the palace grounds.  So many details needed attending.  The king’s funeral, for one, scheduled for mid-day tomorrow and then his own coronation, scheduled for the next day.  Repairs to the walls damaged two days ago were another priority to occupy his mind.  He refused to compromise the defensibility of the palace, not in the wake of the last attack.  How the Sudeans managed to spirit such a powerful sorcerer into the heart of Kolixtla was a puzzle he intended to ferret out if it was the last thing he did.  That was truly, what kept him awake into the early morning. I will avenge my father and my men that were lost. This sorcerer will not get away with what he did to my kingdom. I will pursue him and his accomplices to the end of Aertu, if need be.

They found few witnesses to the incident, as all those in the courtyard perished, crushed like insects, but a few of the kitchen staff recalled three armed men and a woman, all foreigners and light skinned, but one.  The servants attending the Princess recalled nothing of the event upon waking from their stupor, as if someone erased their memories of everything that happened, after entering the room.

***

The foray for boots panned out as they hoped.  They actually located a cobbler’s shop and found Eilowyn a pair that fit passably well.   She and Aleron were fully dressed for their journey now, their faces and hands blackened like the other two.  It was two or three bells before dawn and they needed to strike out before the early-morning workers started moving about.

They exited the cellar into the alley and Barathol whispered, “Now, we planned this out.  Let’s just hope we have the street layout memorized properly and nothing changed since the map update we studied.”  He led the way westward and then to the north, when they came to a side branch.  He soot blackened the blade of his glaive, as well, to minimize their chances of detection.  The others kept their weapons sheathed, for now, with all shiny surfaces blackened, or wrapped against glare.

“I hope this works, Barry,” Eilowyn whispered.  “I don’t really want my heart cut out two days from now.”  Not waiting for a reply, she continued, “How are you doing, Aleron?”

“I’m fine, Ellie,” he replied.  He brought up the rear, his sharper senses and faster reflexes making him the most logical choice for that position.  He wore Andhanimwhid strapped to his back.  Though the sword was now dim, he was certain it was due to him losing his powers and not that it was damaged in any way.  At least, he hoped that was the case.

They navigated back alleys, many times taking cover from patrols sweeping the city.  At one point, as they all crouched within an alcove.  Two foot soldiers approached their position, swords drawn.  The fugitive huddled together with hoods drawn as far over their faces as possible, no one moving and all attempting to look like bundles of merchandise.  Suddenly, Barathol’s glaive snapped out twice, severing the throats of the hapless soldiers.  They quickly shoved the bodies into the space they had just occupied.  They could do nothing about the stench of blood though, so they put as much distance between themselves and the corpses as they could, taking a few turns they would not have chosen otherwise.  Two dead bodies would certainly alert the Kolixtlanis that the Sudean fugitives were on the move.  At least, it seemed so far, the Kolixtlanis didn’t employ tracking hounds.

Eventually, they came to a wide avenue, running east to west.  Geldun crossed first, followed by Barathol, a few seconds later.  They spent several minutes reconnoitering the alley and then motioned the others to cross.  Eilowyn moved first and then Aleron, with one last check of their rear guard, crossed behind her.

They found themselves in yet another dark alley, this one more squalid than the ones closer to the palace.  After the storefronts lining the avenue, the remainder of the city in this direction made up the waterfront neighborhoods, a mix of warehouses, foundries, tanneries and rude dwellings.  Every city of men had such places, even Arundell and they usually held the ones who performed most of the menial labor, close to where their work took place.  Aleron briefly wondered to himself why this was the case, when it was not so for elves and dwarves.  He did not have much time to ponder such mysteries, as they quickly moved out again, picking their way around trash and debris, as well as the occasional drunkard, passed out on the cobblestones.

One notable detail was the complete lack of soldiers patrolling these alleys.  Apparently, this was not a part of the city where they felt particularly welcome.  He hoped they did not run into any of the trouble the soldiers chose not to face.  He was quite certain that a couple of the supposed drunkards they stepped gingerly around would not have woken up if he kicked them in the ribs.  He still could not see the energy of life or death, but some other sense told him they were dead.  Perhaps everyone had such a sense, or maybe his ability had not disappeared completely; that thought cheered him immensely. Hadaras warned me about burning myself out, but I let fear and anger get the better of me. Now, because of my stupidity, we may not get through this with our lives. Sorcerers often burned themselves out, attempting to focus too much energy at once.  Often, the outcome was fatal and equally often, the sorcerer lived, but never regained their ability.  With extreme rarity, an individual recovered to some extent, but usually not to their former strength.

The smell of the sea steadily gained in intensity, telling them that their goal lay close at hand, but brightening of the eastern sky told them they were running out of time.  Geldun suggested, in a low whisper, “I think we should try to break into one of these warehouses.  We don’t have time to make off with a boat now.”

“I agree with Geldun,” Eilowyn concurred.  “We should find cover.”

“The only problem with that is,” Aleron countered, “those dead bodies we left on the other side.  That will tip them off that we’re moving and they may push patrols into the waterfront.”

“Al’s right,” Barathol agreed.  “We should at least try.  If we don’t succeed, we can hole up somewhere closer to the water.”

“Try what?” came from the darkness, in heavily accented Sudean.  A man stepped forward, from the doorway in which he was shadowing.  He was dressed in crude, but in good repair clothing, typical of dockworkers and armed with a long, heavy bush knife.  Four hulking figures materialized behind him, dressed similarly and armed with heavy cudgels and staffs.

Aleron checked behind and saw five more of the thugs, again with staff and cudgel. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just trying to get to the harbor.”

“Ah, this one speaks Kolixtlani,” the stranger announced to his companions, “and he doesn’t want trouble. I’m afraid, my friend, that you have found quite a lot of trouble, whether you sought it, or not. You all need to see the boss now. You are welcome to come quietly, or we can beat you all senseless and drag you. Several more thugs, some armed with bladed weapons now, as well as a few bowmen, joined the group, placing the companions at a distinct disadvantage, numbers wise.

“He wants us to come with him and see his boss,” Aleron told the others.  “It doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

The others nodded in agreement and Geldun replied, “Dead now or dead later, at least we have a chance if we pick later.”

“He says we’re seeing the boss, whether he has to beat us senseless or we go willingly.”  He addressed the leader again, “We’ll go willingly.”

“Good choice, my friend.  Now you give you weapons to my colleagues here.” Two of the men stepped forward, on letting his club dangle by a loop around his wrist and the other keeping his staff in the high guard position.

“Hand over our weapons,” Aleron directed.  “If they wanted us dead they would have been all over us by now.”  Aleron began unbuckling his sword belt.  Geldun did the same and Barathol grudgingly lowered his guard and held his glaive out to be collected.

After the thug collected all the weapons, including Andhanimwhid and Eilowyn’s belt knife, the leader directed, “Follow me,” and to his men, “If they attempt to run, brain them. Now, let’s go.” They continued along the alley, toward the water and then turned right between two warehouses.  Eventually they came upon a nondescript dwelling, in amongst the warehouses.  In the dim light of pre-dawn, they saw it was a low wooden structure with walls of rough sawn vertical boards and a widely overhanging roof of split wood shingles.  The leader opened the door and they entered what looked like the kitchen area of a modest hovel, but no one was present cooking, as would be usual for this hour, in a working class home.  The leader knocked on an inner door and someone answered with a low murmur.  He murmured something back and the door opened.  He motioned them to follow him into a well-lit and elegantly furnished office.  Two armored guards stood to either side of an ornate wood desk, behind which, sat a well-groomed Kolixtlani man, in his middle years.  Three more of the men from the alley followed them into the suddenly crowded office. The fugitives from the palace, Sir,” the leader announced, before stepping to one side.  One of the men from outside set down the bundle of weapons they confiscated from the group on the floor and began unwrapping and wiping off the soot, they used to conceal them.

“So, my Sudean friends, it looks like I have a prize the palace will pay generously for,” the man behind the desk stated, in clearly enunciated Sudean.  “Why should I not turn you over and reap a rich reward?  Oh, but I am remiss; allow me to introduce myself.  I am Cipactli and I own this sector of the harbor.  Nothing moves here without my knowledge, not even fugitives from the crown’s justice.”  It occurred to Aleron then, that the lack of patrolling soldiers on this side of the city had less to do with fear and more to do with jurisdiction.

“We have some gold.  We could pay you for our passage,” Aleron offered.

“I doubt you can carry, all four of you together, the amount of gold Ehacatl would pay me for his father’s murderer,” Cipactli replied, chuckling, “not to mention the undying gratitude of the crown.  What else can you offer, in exchange for your lives?”  It was at that point, that one of the men unwrapped Andhanimwhid, exposing the glittering sapphires set in the electrum bound hilt.  “Now what have we here?  That might help sway my decision, but of course, I can just take all you have and turn you in to the authorities and claim my reward as well.  Tell me, what became of your priest who destroyed the palace courtyard?  It seems that if he were of your number, we would not be standing here together.”

“He died,” Geldun answered quickly.  “He must have overreached or something; he fell dead right after the blast.”

“I have heard of such things happening to priests, when they overstep themselves.  To whom does this exquisite weapon belong?  The rest is all standard issue trash, next to worthless.”

Aleron saw Barathol bristle at the implication that his glaive was nothing but trash.  “The sword is mine, Sir, a family heirloom, of sorts.”

“The palace is no great friend to me, as you may guess, so I will make you a deal.  For your gold and this sword, I will put you and your friends on a boat and out of the city.”

“No, Aleron!” Eilowyn exclaimed and he saw expressions of horror forming on Geldun and Barathol’s faces.

“Sir, I cannot, with good conscience, give that sword to you.  It has been in my family for hundreds of years.”

“Young man, Aleron, is it?  Is your good conscience worth your life and the lives of your friends?”

“I’m afraid it has to be, Sir.”

“All of you leave us, except Aleron here,” He directed his men. “Yes, you as well, he directed the two guards flanking his desk. I can take care of myself and if he harms me, you will kill his friends. Take them and hold them in the outer room,” he directed the leader of the men who captured them.

“Let’s go,” the leader told Aleron’s companions, as Cipactli’s men turned to exit the office.

“It’s all right, go with them,” Aleron told them as they looked about to protest.  “He wants to speak with me alone.”  Apprehensive over what was to follow, he thought of how he might quietly overpower the man behind the desk, but he could think of no way that would not endanger his friends.  They could play the hostage game as well as he and he dared not risk Eilowyn’s life in such a gamble.

When the door closed behind the last of them, Cipactli commented.  “They may not know what this sword is, but I do.”  At Aleron’s suddenly wide-eyed expression, he continued, “The last time I saw it personally, it was stuck in the back of a throne.  Were you the one to remove it?”

“I’d rather not say…When were you in Arundell?”

“I’ve heard that this sword will serve no other than its true master,” he stated, ignoring Aleron’s question and hefting the greatsword.  Suddenly, he swung it in a wide overhand sweep toward Aleron, but the sword erupted in a flash of blue light and Cipactli dropped it as if it was white hot.  He uttered an exclamation under his breath that Aleron was sure wasn’t in Kolixtlani, and examined his singed palms.  “It looks like that is indeed the case.  Now, you do the same to me.”

“I would rather not, Sir.”

“You will, or I’ll order all your friends killed.  I will see this before I send you on your way.  Do not worry; I will duck, before you can hit me.”  Aleron picked up the sword, hesitantly, readied himself and then swung at Cipactli in a wide, high and easily dodged sideways swing.  He was surprised at how deftly the Kolixtlani boss dodged the shot, regardless of how easy he made it.  “No singed palms I see, should I say, Your Grace?”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“Sorry, but I had to assure myself that you are worth the trouble.  Let me let you in on a little secret, Aleron.  I used to be a smuggler, once upon a time and then they caught me crossing into Castia.  Do you know what happens to smugglers who get caught?”

“They are either deported, or brought into Castian intelligence,” Aleron replied.

“Exactly and deported smugglers are executed, so come to your own conclusions.  I will do my best to see you on your way, but it needs to look believable for my men.  You need to agree to give me the sword.  I will find a way for you to keep it, but you need to make it look like you gave in to my demands.  I will not be the man to turn the King of Sudea over to Ehacatl and his priests, but I can’t speak for my men if it doesn’t look right.”

“Will you be able to get us to the east shore and close to the border with Castia?  We are trying to get back to Arundell as quickly as possible.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.  The east shore is too heavily patrolled, as is the Castian border.  I haven’t been able to get a message through in over a year.  I have to send messages through Sunjib now and that’s where you will need to go, as well, unless you wish to attempt the Northern Kingdom, which I also would not advise.  That is too much of our country to cross undetected.”

“Sunjib will take us months out of our way.”

“I don’t think you have much choice, my friend.  To go east is to assure your capture and south is simply not feasible.  I can get you far up the west shore and up river, close to the Sunjibi border.  From there, you can make it into Waban and the coast.”

“It seems like we don’t have any other options, so yes, I accept your offer,” Aleron conceded and added, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend.  As I said before, I hold no great love for the crown or their priests, for that matter.  Let us go out and give your friends the good news.  We should get you cleaned up, as well; you smell like you’ve been living in a cellar.”  Cipactli moved from behind the desk and to the door.  As Aleron turned to the doorway, he happened to notice the white raven symbol painted over the door.

Chapter 2 can be found here:  https://julianbenoit.wordpress.com/2014/04/09/the-fugitive-king-chapter-2/