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Sci Fi & Fantasy / Chapter 6 - Raven Rising
Sweet shadow. It was thick, cloaking, concealing and it made him happy. Comfortable. However, it was too cold, even in the confines of the small cave he had temporarily taken up residence in. He loathed the clear, open skies of this world. Brilliant blue during the day and a twinkling carpet of stars during the night. How he longed to bring the thick clouds of smoke and vapor to this world, to warm it, to swath it in the heavy blanket of sulfur and hellfire that he was so used to. Yet, that would take time, as it had all of the other colony worlds of his people.
Time. He had much of it, yes, but still he hated to waste it, throw it away sitting in caves and waiting on impotent scouts already hours late.
“Wherrrrrrre, issssss he?” he snapped.
Nerak'uma snapped to attention, regarding his Lord and gauging his answer from what he saw. Lord Kemkerr was a vast and mighty Delhilder, one of the overlord races of their home-world, where caste was everything and ones caste was decided by race. Delhilder, what the pink, fleshy folk of this world mistakenly named “satyr”. Kemkerr was well over eight feet tall, broad shouldered and barrel chested and covered in a thick coat of ash-and-coal colored fur. Two enormous, ivory horns swept back from his prominent brow to brush the ceiling of the cave, drawing furrows in the stone. His face was vaguely humanoid, with a long thin nose and a sharp chin. Coupled with his heavy brow, it gave the Lord a constantly brooding look. Two long fangs showed between pale lips twisted back in anger. Sharp, cloven hooves on powerful goat-like legs churned the stone beneath them.
“Send another,” Nerak'uma ventured. “The last you sent must not be suited for function on this plane.”
Lord Kemkerr sent the little bug man a scathing look. Nerak'uma was of the Bweldinder caste whose members were comprised of humanoid bugs of varying appearance. Nerak'uma himself appeared to be a monstrously large praying mantis covered from head to toes in a heavy black chitin, though he was much, much smaller than his Lord.
“Ssssshall I sssssend you?” Kemkerr asked, arching one eyebrow.
“What would you do for an adviser then?”
Nerak'uma watched as Lord Kemkerr's flat, black, forked tongue lolled from between his fangs for a moment before withdrawing back into the depths of his cavernous mouth.
“Verrrrry trrrrrue,” Kemkerr mused. “You arrrrrre lucky that you ssssssspeak like these fleshlings do.”
If Nerak'uma had the facial muscles to be able to smile, he would have. As it was, he simply rubbed his long, hooked forearms together to display his appreciation.
“Would you like me to fetch another scout from the pens?”
Kemkerr thought about this for a moment before nodding.
“Tell him to bring back the carcass of the first.”
“You turned her down?” Aden demanded the next morning, mercilessly smacking Saavriin about the the waist and hips with the discarded sweater.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I don't know! Cuddle with her or something!”
Saavriin ran a hand over his face.
“I can't believe I'm taking romantic advice from a ten year old.”
“Well, you obviously don't know what you're doing!”
“She doesn't know, Aden. Unless you told her and somehow she's perfectly alright with me being a zombie.”
“You're not a – a whatever you just said.”
“Then what am I?”
“An individual with a prolonged life,” Aden said, pointing a finger in the air.
“I'm chasing off that tutor of yours.”
“No! Hey! That's not fair. I'm trying to help.”
“You're not.”
Aden crossed his arms over his chest in mockery of Saavriin and sighed.
“Fine. Be that way. Don't you have another job to do? The Ravens don't pay people to only come and do a job once.”
Saavriin bristled and snatched up his armor. He'd never been so irritated.
“Oh, well, welcome back, slacker,” the door guard greeted Saavriin as he came in and started down the stairs. “Mistress Yulan isn't happy with you. She was expecting you back sooner.”
“Then she should have said something. I don't read minds.”
The door guard shrugged.
“Then maybe you should learn.”
Saavriin ignored him and continued down into the complex. It was warm underground, if damp. It was like home. He would see Yulan, regardless if she were upset with him or not, but at least he knocked this time.
“If it isn't my tardy little Inky!” Yulan exclaimed. The sarcasm wasn't lost on Saavriin.
“Sorry I'm late.”
“Late? More like totally absent. Where the hell have you been?”
“Taking care of personal business.”
“When you joined the Ravens, your business became my business, Inky. I don't pay you to come and go as you will.”
“Tell me when you want me back, then.”
Yulan's gaze went steely. She evidently wasn't used to being talked back to. She evidently wasn't used to dealing with ex-nobility.
“Every gods-damned day, Inky. Whether you've got a job or not. I want you in here. I want to know where you are and what you plan to do. You're mine now and every action you make can be a benefit or a detriment to my band. You hear me?”
Saavriin glared at her for a moment. Yes, so much like home.
“I hear you.”
“Good. I'm assigning you a watcher for your next job.”
“A what?”
“A watcher, partner. I already know you're not listening to me, so I want you with someone who does.”
“He'd better not slow me down.”
“Oh, no,” Yulan chuckled. “If anything, he'll speed you up. He's waiting for you in the barracks.”
Saavriin stormed into the barracks and was arrested by the sight of an individual so familiar yet so alien he couldn't help but stare. The easy grace the other elf stood with, leaning against a bunk bed with his arms crossed over his chest, spoke of experience and self assurance. He smiled, a slight, smooth movement that only barely exposed a set of fine, white teeth.
“Well, hello.”
The dark elf could only watch him. Wherever the other man was from, he spoke with an accent that shaved the H's from his words and almost seemed to make him purr.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“Who are you?” It was all Saavriin could manage.
The other smiled a little more widely.
“Your watcher.” He stood straight and dropped his arms to his sides. It was only then that Saavriin noticed the two immensely long swords hanging at his hips. The elf draped his wrists over their pommels and strode towards Saavriin, walking a slow circle around him. Saavriin couldn't hear his feet hit the stone.
“You seem strong enough. Simply insubordinate, then?”
“W-what?”
The other laughed. It was a soft, rich sound.
“Are we going to have a problem?”
Saavriin glanced over to the elf, who was standing mere inches from him. He had chin-length chocolate brown hair that fell in rich waves around his face and eyes with such a mixture of deep oranges and reds that they were fit to make the sunset jealous. The shapes of his features combined in such a way that his expression always appeared to be seducing.
“No.”
“Oh.” He sounded almost disappointed. “The difficult ones are always more fun. You may call me Zephyr.”
“That isn't your real name, is it?”
“No, but is Saavriin yours?”
He scoffed at that, but he somehow liked how Zephyr rolled the R in his alias.
“I didn't think so. I do think that you should accompany me on my rounds.”
“Rounds?”
“Oh my,” another laugh. “He's new, too. Rounds. Observing the borders of our territory?”
Saavriin didn't want to admit more of his ignorance in the presence of this gorgeous creature, but he could already feel his face screwing up in an expression of confusion. He hadn't told it to do that!
“Territory?”
That pulled an all-out belly laugh from the depths of Zephyr's long frame.
“You're kidding right? No? Your face says you're not. Oh,” he gasped for air and mocked wiping a tear away from his right eye. “Oh, dear. Child, you have a lot to learn.”
“I could be your great grandfather,” Saavriin muttered under his breath. It didn't matter that he had essentially stopped aging as a point that made him no more than an elven decade older than Zephyr.
“You and I,” Zephyr said in a declarative voice, moving to stand in front of Saavriin and put his hands on the other elf's shoulders. “We're going to be good friends by the end of this.”
Somehow, Saavriin doubted that.
Saavriin trudged along behind Zephyr, who practically floated down the corridors, as they went back to Yulan's quarters. If Zephyr was simply an elf, Saavriin felt like the most ungraceful human he had ever met in comparison, and the fact wasn't doing much for his mood. Suddenly, his armor clinked too much and his daggers bounced against his hips too loudly. Suddenly, he stomped rather than padded and it even felt like he breathed too loud. Saavriin didn't like Zephyr.
Zephyr was also far more personable than Saavriin was, he felt. The elf, a tall, mocha-skinned creature from the southern islands, flirted with everyone, male or female. It didn't seem to phase him that it made the men nervous, the hardened female warriors grumble irritatedly, or the greenhorns blush and titter like noblewomen. Where Saavriin preferred to speak to few and keep his distance, Zephyr wanted everyone to feel his presence, and feel it they did. He seemed fond of physical contact and on the occasions that he stopped and spoke with Saavriin, he touched his hands, arms, and shoulders to accentuate his speech.
It was a godsend when they finally reached Yulan's quarters, as Saavriin could stand off to one side and put their guild master between himself and Zephyr. Or he thought, anyway. The buffer didn't work as well as he had been hoping it would. Zephyr went straight to Yulan and took up her hand.
“Mistress,” he purred.
Yulan smiled.
“Taking him out already? He doesn't even have a job today.”
“He has my job today.”
“I know you're a lieutenant, but you're still not authorized to assign jobs.”
So he didn't have to walk from one end of Tellhemport to the other! At least Yulan stuck to her rules, even in the face of relentless charm. Saavriin had just started silently singing her praises when Zephyr, once more, shot him down.
“You said he was insubordinate. This is easy, and it'll let me get to know him before we do something more dangerous together.”
They had to do more than one thing together? He listened in outraged silence as Yulan sighed delicately – too delicately for her personality – and nodded.
“Very true. You have permission to assign him low-class jobs then, I suppose.”
Saavriin felt like he had descended into a black cloud of anger and resentment, all of it directed at Zephyr. When the other elf looked over, evidently he saw it too, for he broke away from Yulan and approached him.
“Oh, don't look so glum. It'll be fun!”
“I'm sure,” Saavriin grumbled, sparing Zephyr another glare before turning his attention to the wall. He was determined to make Zephyr feel like the stone was much more appealing to look at. Instead, Zephyr just turned back to Yulan.
“Is he always like this?”
“I don't know. He hasn't been here.”
It suddenly dawned on Saavriin that he hadn't taken his induction into the Ravens seriously. The single job he had done wasn't a simple release of frustration or some show of loyalty to Lylah and Aden. It had been a pledge, one as binding as any he had taken in defense of House Delyl, and he hadn't considered it that way. Just as in any S'hedmethil House, disloyalty or the breaking of a pledge was to be punished, but these were humans, not dark elves. Instead of his punishment coming in the form of a long, torturous death, it was Zephyr.
For a moment, Saavriin wished for the death.
Zephyr shrugged and walked back towards the door.
“Come on, my grouchy shadow, we have work to do.”
Saavriin shot Yulan a pleading look. She only looked flatly back at him.
Later, after they had been walking for a while on the streets, Zephyr stopped and turned to Saavriin.
“You know, this would go faster if you didn't trudge everywhere.”
“I was hoping if I slowed you down enough you'd leave me behind.”
Zephyr rolled his eyes.
“Listen, I don't know where you're from or what kind of person you are or were or are trying to be, but you're following my rules now. I don't even give a damn if you know more about this job than I do, but until you're running things, we do this my way and my way is doing things quickly. So step up.”
Not that Saavriin really knew Zephyr, but his authoritarian tone didn't seem to fit his pretty face. If it weren't for the fact that the other elf wore tightly fitted clothes, articles that weren't apt to get caught on jags of wood or nails, Saavriin very well could have mistaken Zephyr for a woman. Until he spoke, that is. Though it was as warm as the color of his skin, it was almost too manly for the mouth it came out of.
“What are you staring at?”
“What? I'm not.” Saavriin shook his head and blinked.
Zephyr looked to the sky for a moment, a motion that eerily reminded Saavriin of his own thought pose, and then looked back down at his companion.
“You know, I'm not here to make your life difficult. I'm just doing my job, as you're doing yours. I'm sure you've got mouths to feed or some addiction to sate, most of the Ravens do, but you need money to do it. Lots of it. So you're here. I'm just here to help you with that, okay? Think you can handle that?”
Zephyr didn't strike Saavriin as the family sort, so it made him wonder what the other elf's addiction must be, but he didn't linger on the thought long. He nodded to satisfy Zephyr's question, which made the other elf smile.
“Good. Now, come on. The section we get to patrol today isn't too big, it shouldn't take very long. If we're lucky we'll run into some of the other guys, maybe get a good scuffle in today. It's usually more boring than that, though.”
“Other guys?”
“Oh, right, I forgot. You don't really follow this whole thing, do you? The Ravens don't run the whole city underground, though we'd like to. There's a handful of other organizations with territory all their own. We scout the edge of our territory to make sure they haven't set up rackets beyond our borders, just as they patrol to make sure we haven't. Once in a while, our patrols cross. That's when the fun starts.”
Saavriin thought about that for a moment. While the Ravens may have lived someplace very similar to where he had grown up, they did things much differently. Perhaps the scouting tactics of the S'hedmethil were beyond the means of these bandits? Saavriin was more accustomed to avoiding contact with enemy Houses, or in this case, guilds. The fewer solders a House lost to pointless skirmishes the better, so most leaders turned to tactics of sabotage, assassination, and other subversion. Zephyr, on the other hand, seemed to be looking specifically for a fight.
“We want to fight them?” Saavriin inquired, quirking an eyebrow.
Zephyr laughed.
“Of course we do. The less of them up and wandering around the better. Besides, if we push them off of our territory, chances are we can keep pushing and take some of theirs.”
There. That was the difference. Territory. The S'hedmethil fought for power, for strength of name, for notoriety, yes, but never for territory. In the Underbelly, most of the narrow tunnels were either used for trade between cities or were owned by the beasts. What the elves did own consisted of enormous cathedrals of honeycombed caves where the buildings clung to the walls and ceilings like bats. When a House was destroyed, it was utterly wiped off the face of the earth. There was nothing left to inherit, save for perhaps slaves and the remaining riches of the fallen family.
Saavriin was entirely unaccustomed to turf wars.
“You look confused.” Evidently Zephyr could tell.
“You just...” he paused and sighed. “Carry things out differently than I'm used to, that's all. It seems silly to me.”
“How do you do it then?”
Saavriin took the time to explain the differences between how the Raven's gained power and how House Delyl would have gone about it. All the while, Zephyr surreptitiously got his partner to walk his route by edging out ahead of him until he was walking.
“Total warfare,” Zephyr said when Saavriin had finished.
“What?”
“That's what they call it up here. When you wipe out any evidence that there had been any enemy at all, let alone a war. Total warfare. Not many people use it anymore, mostly because it makes the land go to dust. Can't farm it. The conquering armies had a bad habit of starving to death not long after they won.”
“Oh.”
“Let me guess. Dark elves don't farm?”
“Not really. I mean, we have our...” Saavriin had to stop to think. He didn't know the name of the large floating farms of fish and mushrooms in Common. “Well, they're big floating platforms that we keep wet. They grow things there, but those are never involved in the wars. The farmers, I guess you could call them that, are never affiliated with a House. Perfectly neutral.”
“We should try that out,” Zephyr mused, smiling. “Seems like you guys have war down to a fine art.”
“We've only been doing it since we ended up down there,” Saavriin replied, his tone a little bitter.
Zephyr was silent after that, which was strange for him. Saavriin assumed. Not that it didn't suit him. Zephyr was abnormally quiet; his boots didn't scuff the cobblestones, his clothes hardly ever rustled, and the contents of his belt never jangled or clanked. If it weren't for the occasional person that walked by or the noise Saavriin made himself, the dark elf would have sworn he'd gone deaf.
They walked for a long while before Zephyr stopped at a rundown building. Saavriin had never been in this part of the city; most of the buildings here seemed rundown.
“These are the kinds of buildings you need to look for around the edge of our territory.”
Saavriin didn't even know they had arrived. There was nothing to indicate a change in “ownership” of the land. No banners or guards posted. Humans functioned in so many alien ways.
“Most of these have deep cellars that connect to several other buildings,” Zephyr continued. “They make for good rat warrens. Problem is, there's only two of us. If we go in and spook them, we're trapped. I need you to be dead silent.”
Inwardly, Saavriin laughed at the unintended pun. He kept the joke to himself and simply nodded before taking the time to tighten down all of his own belts and varied buckles. He wondered how long it would take Zephyr to notice that he wasn't breathing, or if he had and didn't care.
Zephyr pressed his ear against the door, letting his mouth hang slightly open so that the woosh of his own breath wasn't trapped in his head, interrupting his own hearing. Very slowly, a devious grin spread over his lips.
“No guards, if there's anyone there at all,” he practically purred. Straightening, Zephyr tried the door. Locked. Unperturbed, he reached into a pouch and retrieved a set of heavy leather gloves and something rolled in a sheet of worn leather. Lockpicks, Saavriin assumed.
“Don't those make you clumsy?” Saavriin asked quietly, gesturing towards the gloves.
Zephyr nodded.
“Would rather pick a lock a little bit slower than get a poison dart or a nice burn from a trapped lock. Besides, when you pick all your locks with these gloves on, you end up with two sets of hands.”
“Two sets of hands?”
“Your killing hands: without gloves, light, fast, able to tell you what's happening through tactile changes in your weaponry and your lock picking hands: fat and slow, but ultimately safer.”
“Makes sense.”
Even with the gloves, Zephyr was far quicker at picking locks than Saavriin was with bare hands. It was fascinating to watch. With a breathy sigh of concentration, Zephyr dipped to his knees and click, click the door was open. He even palmed a good portion of the tools, making it seem as if he simply passed his hands over the handle before it was open.
Saavriin's jealousy shifted slightly towards admiration. He could learn from this strange elf.
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This 432 word review has not been unlocked.
Hey megan—I’m going to try not to up your credit requirement here to open. Suffice to say, I love it!
I actually think you do a very good job of introducing new characters and I wasn’t confused at all. I followed it well.
You stuck enough familiar stuff from Aden ( “An individual with a prolonged life,”) he’s such a hoot! Saavriin, etc, to keep us firmly rooted in the story. Don’t sell yourself short. The stage in with a big series like this is still being set in chapter 6. If these characters are relevant to the rest of the books (I’m sure they are), this is a great intro!
The description/intro of Zephyr is fabulous! I loved: his expression always appeared to be seducing, rolling Rs, etc. Very vivid and complete.
Very good characterization, telling description that lifts some heavy load: Yulan sighed delicately – too delicately for her personality (we get her even from just this little gem).
Done right. Done well. Writing is (as usual) compelling, interesting, flawless. Dialogue sparkles!
I did not look hard for typos. Was more interested in the story.
I think you’re wrong if you think this isn’t one of your better chapters. Its not (as) high-action, but you made the sometimes staid stuff of intro of new characters interesting and painless. Wish I could do that on my ch 1!!!
*Very good foreshadowing-type last sentence as well!
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