Beneath Raven's Wing

By Vonnie Winslow Crist

Under the eyes of the Ravens, the visions of fantasy spring. Discovery drives the Unkindness, and the stories cling fast to their wings.

Presenting a collection of fantasy and myth inspired tales that take readers on a flight of fancy through genres, mythos and time. In 15 unnerving stories, lovers of modern fairy tales will find something to treasure and keep them up at night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fae Corps Publishing
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393313243

Book preview

Praise for Beneath Raven's Wing and Vonnie Winslow Crist

Vonnie Winslow Crist is a chameleon of a writer—as a reader, you never know where her tales will take you—yet there’s always one thing you can count on: top-notch storytelling. – Richard Chizmar, New York Times Bestselling Author of Gwendy's Button Box Trilogy, The Girl on the Porch, and other books

Beneath Raven’s Wing takes readers on an epic journey spanning time and tide... Our constant companions throughout our journey are dark-winged corvids—an unkindness of the most beguiling sort. Where Mythos ends and truth begins is hard to know—exactly as Crist intended. Go ahead. Curl up in your chair before a roaring fire and live the adventures of a lifetime. You’ll be glad you did. – H.R. Boldwood, author of the Corpse Whisperer series and 2019 Imadjinn Award Finalist

Beneath Raven’s Wing, Vonnie Winslow Crist’s new collection of short stories, has something for everyone. At turns spooky and fantastic, these raven-focused tales are a fun read. Beneath Raven's Wing dances expertly between genres, going from poignant historical tales...to Norse mythology and Lovecraft inspired stories... While Edgar Allan Poe’s Raven may have cried 'nevermore,' this book will leave the readers wanting 'more, more, more.'  – Claire Davon, USA Today bestselling author of Redemption of the Gorgons, Elementals’ Challenge, and The Universe Chronicles

Like the ravens sprinkled in every tale, these stories are dark, intelligent and sinister. They blur the edges between history and folklore, between ancient lore and modern mythology. Whether it's a vampire story, a murder mystery, or even a steampunk tale, you will enjoy them all, guided by a master storyteller. – Gustavo Bondoni, author of Off the Beaten Path, Ice Station Death, Siege, Outside, Love & Death, and other books

As a writer, editor, and artist, Vonnie is a gem of our science fiction-fantasy community. – Tom M. Doyle, author of Border Crosser, American Craftsmen, and The Left-Hand Way

Books by Vonnie Winslow Crist

The Chronicles of Lifthrasir

The Enchanted Dagger

Beyond the Sheercliffs

Novelette

Murder on Marawa Prime

Story Collections

Beneath Raven's Wing

Owl Light

The Greener Forest

Children's

Leprechaun Cake & Other Tales

Poetry Collections

River of Stars

Essential Fables

Beneath Raven's Wing

by Vonnie Winslow Crist

––––––––

Fae Corps Publishing

Beneath Raven's Wing

Copyright ©2021 Vonnie Winslow Crist

All Rights Reserved.

Published by Fae Corps Publishing

ISBN-13: 978-1-716-27296-7

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All Rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Blood-Soaked Biscuits ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Blood Crown.

Lady Raven ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Hexed.

Mangata ©2021 Vonnie Winslow Crist.

Kalma  ©2019 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Divinity.

An Unkindness ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Poe-ish Tales Forevermore.

Adventure ©2019 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Strange Mysteries 8.

Clockwork Raven ©2021 Vonnie Winslow Crist.

The Brass Fly ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Wishes of Illusion.

Deathwatch ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Blood & Beetles.

Stone Garden ©2019 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Gardens of Enchantment.

The Walrus ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Fake News.

Nails ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Horror for Hire

In Egypt's Shadow ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. SLAY: Stories of the Vampire Noire.

Snowbroth ©2015 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Potter's Field 5.

Asteria ©2020 Vonnie Winslow Crist. Of Gods & Globes 2.

Storm ©2021 Vonnie Winslow Crist.

Table of Contents

Blood-Soaked Biscuits

Lady Raven

Mangata

Kalma

An Unkindness

Adventure

The Clockwork Raven

The Brass Fly

Deathwatch

Stone Garden

The Walrus

Nails

In Egypt’s Shadows

Asteria

Snowbroth

Storm

About the Author

Acknowledgments

For Ernie,

Tim & Dawn, Phil & Kristin,

Nathaniel & Gabriel, Melissa & Aria,

and

all those who embrace

the mystery & magic of ravens.

"Raven holds the secrets of night

beneath her wings

and guards that knowledge

with claw and blood."

—Vonnie Winslow Crist, River of Stars

Unkindness of ravens n.

The collective noun for a group of ravens

Blood-Soaked Biscuits

Every morning before dawn, Cal collected day-old biscuits from Master Piers, the lord's head cook. Next, he soaked them in the blood of whatever animal had been slaughtered for breakfast. After he had soaked the biscuits, he put them in two buckets. Then, he carried the bloody baked goods from the kitchen at the rear corner of the inner ward to Castle Movran's ravens.

Others might have been squeamish about both the blood and the large, sometimes aggressive corvids, but not Cal. He had been the official raven keeper for seven years. First getting the job, when he had been orphaned by an open-sore plague at age five.

The prior raven keeper had succumbed to the same plague which claimed Cal's parents. Whether motivated by compassion or the desire not to deal with the birds himself, one of the cook's assistants had arranged for Cal to learn to care for the ravens. Although the choice must have had the approval of Master Piers. Nothing happened in the kitchen or with the food without Master Piers knowing about it. As payment for his work, Cal was given meals and a sleeping pallet in the stables. He felt lucky. Nevertheless, he wondered what his life might have been like were his parents still alive.

The flock of ravens he cared for were sacred to the Garricks of Movran. It was believed the birds were the key to the success of the family. Their likeness appeared on the shields, banners, soldiers' uniforms—even the stonework of Castle Movran and its town. According to legend, if the black-as-death corvids abandoned the castle, the Garricks would cease to rule Movran. The legend forbade the Garricks or anyone acting on their behalf to hold the birds captive. Therefore, none of the ravens' wings could be clipped. The unkindness must stay at the castle by choice, not by the inability to fly somewhere else.

Thus, Cal thought his job even more essential to the safety of Lord Elmer, Lady Gemma, and their son, Bran, than even that of the guards who patrolled the battlements. He believed his commitment to making the ravens happy helped keep the unkindness at the castle. He not only fed the flock and cleaned their shed, but loved each of the ravens.

Cal. Cal. Cal, called the ravens as he brought them their morning meal.

The flock roosted in a specially designated area between the dog kennels and the mew, a small shed which held Lord Elmer's hunting birds. After the ravens were fed their biscuits, Cal would make several trips to the kitchen to collect raw meat scraps. The first load was for the unkindness. The next for the hawks. Finally, he'd tote bucket fulls of meat scraps to the hounds.

Next, he'd scoop edible leftovers from the kitchen's waste bin into his buckets. Usually, the leftovers went to the hounds. But when there were carrot and apple scraps, he'd set them aside to transport to the horses. Stabled on the ground level below the barracks, the horses were always eager for something other than hay. As for the cats, they were supposed to catch their own meals, but he often dropped scraps for them. Thus, Cal was a favorite with Castle Movran's animals.

Having spotted their caregiver, seventeen ravens swooped to the ground. They squawked at him in their harsh voices. The oldest pair, whom he called King and Queenie, strutted closest to Cal. The next generation of adult ravens strolled along a little farther away from his legs. Finally, the youngest members of the unkindness danced impatiently at the edges of the rough-feathered group.

Breakfast is served, he announced. He scattered the blood-soaked biscuits on the grass, then bowed to King and Queenie.

Between gulps of their special treat, several of the younger ravens repeated, Breakfast is served. Breakfast is served.

Cal laughed. The creatures not only echoed what they'd heard, but mimicked the sound and cadences of the person speaking. In this case, Cal! In the past, members of the unkindness repeated various greetings, farewells, and common phrases said by the servants, workers, and soldiers. Lately, the ravens had been saying other things, too.

Just three days past, Destiny, one of the younger birds, had said clear as water, He is poisoned. Sure his ears were deceiving him, Cal had lingered with the flock. He listened more closely. Within minutes, Destiny squawked, He is poisoned, once more. Then, Night, another young raven, joined Destiny in saying, He is poisoned.

Cal had hoped then, and still, the birds had overheard one of the servants talking about rats. For whom but rodents could the speaker have been referring to?

Shaking off the feeling of impending doom, Cal rested on the grass. He watched his charges finish their bloody biscuits. Several of the birds looked up at him as they ate. Maybe it was Cal's imagination, but he thought they gazed at him with the same love he felt for the flock.

Suddenly, the peacefulness was shattered. Impatient for their morning meal, a chorus of hounds began barking and baying in their loudest voices.

I've got to get back to work, sighed Cal. He pushed himself up onto his feet. Master Piers is sure to notice the hounds yammering.

Cal left the birds, though he'd much prefer to stay with his ravens. He hurried back to the kitchen to fill buckets with raw meat for the rest of the hungry animals. He made four additional trips to the kitchen to collect food. As he emptied the last of the leftovers into the trough from which the hounds ate, Cal heard screams. He tried to determine the source of the cries. It quickly became clear the commotion was coming from the private quarters of Lord Elmer and Lady Gemma.

Like a wind rustling across a wheat field, the chant of: He is dead! Lord Elmer is dead! swept through Castle Movran. Soon, everyone was aware of the terrible tragedy. The kindhearted lord of the castle had died.

Though an unhappy event, Lord Elmer's death was not a surprise. It was widely known attempts by the castle's physician these past few months to alleviate the lord's stomach pain had failed. A magic practitioner who specialized in healing spells and potions had been consulted weeks ago. But he'd had no success.

Finally, Brother Oswin, a monk from St. Florian by the Sea, had been called upon. He'd been visiting Lord Elmer for six days to administer tinctures designed to moderate Elmer's pain. Pain so severe, all the other castle inhabitants knew its cause had to be more than spoiled mutton. Now, it appeared rather than a short-lived illness, Lord Elmer's bout of indigestion was a fatal malady.

For eight or nine seconds, Cal's heart beat so hard it felt like his chest would explode. What is to become of Castle Movran? The town? Me? he wondered. Then, he thought, the ravens are still here. All will be fine.

Cal took a deep breath. He remembered the calm, capable Lady Gemma Garrick who always stood by Lord Elmer's side. She was a devoted wife, organized custodian of the castle, and a good mother to their son, Bran. Little would change. Surrounded by her husband's advisers, Lady Gemma would run things until Bran was old enough to assume the lord's responsibilities.

Cal was twelve. He thought Bran was nearly his age. Therefore, it would only be seven years until the boy became Lord Bran Garrick of Castle Movran. Then, with his mother's advice, Bran would continue his father's benign rule. Or so Cal hoped.

***

The lord's younger brother, Aldred Garrick, his wife, Sybil, and their family arrived shortly after Lord Elmer's passing. Cal assumed Aldred planned to assist his sister-in-law with running the castle and town. By nightfall, plans for a funeral were well underway. Though Cal was privy to few of the details, he was told to have Lord Elmer's favorite hawk fed and ready by dawn two days hence to participate in the burial ceremony.

As he wondered about the service, above his head the first stars appeared. He gazed at the beautiful, indigo sky. It seemed to melt into the ocean surrounding Castle Movran on three sides. The ravens softly croaked at his feet. Sadly, Cal hummed a mourners' tune as he leaned against the lowest part of the White Tower. Constructed of fieldstone and whitewashed with a lime solution, the White Tower was located midway down the northern, seaward portion of the castle's outer curtain.

All of a sudden, the hair on the back of Cal's neck stood up. Straightaway, the ravens rose from the ground in a whir of wings. They soared into the air. Cal's ears filled with the flock's raucous croaks as they disappeared over the outer curtain wall.

Then, he heard several adult members of the unkindness call, She is gone. She is gone. So, even before he heard the Movran guards shouting her name, Cal knew Lady Gemma had fallen to her death on the sea rocks below.

Fallen or was pushed! The murderous idea entered his mind before he could stop it. He believed as sure as winter followed autumn, Lord Elmer's brother would be anointed Lord Protector Aldred Garrick before daybreak. As the excited corvids soared in the night air, he thought their voices sounded not only mournful, but accusatory. A horrible thought tapped on his skull. If Lady Gemma had been pushed, what if Lord Elmer's death wasn't an accident either? What if there was a murderer in the castle?

***

The opinion of a raven keeper mattered little to anyone at Castle Movran. Nevertheless, he discussed his theory that Lord Protector Aldred had something to do with both Lord Elmer's and Lady Gemma's deaths with the ravens, hounds, hawks, horses, and cats. Though the other creatures expressed no opinion, the ravens nodded their heads in agreement.

Queenie even hopped into Cal's lap muttering, Pushed. She was pushed.

For a moment, Cal wondered if his dark premonitions and ability to converse with the ravens were something more than coincidence.

He laughed. For a second, I thought I might have magic in my blood.

The unkindness turned their heads as one to study him.

But I know magic isn't real.

Real. Real. Real, repeated several of the birds as they rubbed their feathery heads against his him.

Fearing ridicule, Cal said nothing about magic or his suspicions concerning murder to Master Piers, his assistants, or any of the other castle dwellers with whom he interacted. As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, he grew more certain of foul play. Still, he stayed silent. He worried one misspoken word, and he'd be sent in disgrace from Castle Movran. Then, where would he go? How would he earn his keep?

Finally, Cal could no longer remain tongue-tied. During a few hours of free time, he strolled out of the castle's outer gate, down the ramp, and into the town of Movran. He headed to St. Florian by the Sea to visit with Brother Oswin.

About a dozen monks resided at the small stone monastery at St. Florian by the Sea teaching the new religion to Movran. Cal knew Brother Oswin better than the rest—as did everyone in the town of Movran and surrounding areas. Brother Oswin interacted with the parishioners more than any of the other monks because he was also a physician. Having taken a vow of poverty, Brother Oswin charged nothing for his services.

Cal remembered first meeting Brother Oswin at age five. An excited castle dog snapped at a kennel mate whom he felt was eating more than his fair share of breakfast. The hound had missed the other dog and bitten Cal instead. The offending canine was over-sized. His large, sharp teeth had injured Cal badly on his hand and lower arm. When Master Piers saw the wounds, he'd sent him to the monk. Brother Oswin had cleaned and stitched the lacerations so well, nowadays, if you didn't know about the hound bite, it was difficult to find the scars.

Over the years when time allowed, Cal, with several ravens at his side, spent time with the monk. He enjoyed helping Brother Oswin collect ingredients for his medicines.

An orphan like Cal had no business learning letters and numbers. Nonetheless, Brother Oswin had taught him enough words and calculations so Cal could assist him mix his cure-alls. Now, when a castle dog or bird was injured or ill, Cal would do his best to help the sick animal with the