Raven's Way: Darklands: The Raven's Calling, #6

By Scott E. Douglas

An Iron Age Fantasy with heart.

 

"It might be the world we're born into, but it's not the world we should accept," Gervoniline told her. "It can only be this way if too many accept it."

 

What's this world they were born into? It's the world where Counsellor Harnganarth's charge, Shielran, was meant to be happily raising her daughter with her bond in the city of Grimulsvoton. That wasn't going to happen though. Instead, she awaits the execution of the man she loved with their daughter, knowing that it's her turn once he's dead. Their crime was heinous, they loved each other and birthed a child.

 

The world on Greantalia was a better one for the Lilthling Commander named Miearline. She remained to help protect the special child born to Ambial. It's why she remained she's sure of it. There's no way it could have anything to do with the Vaerling hunter with the mesmerizing deep-blue eyes named Scaromael. He's just a distraction. Lilthling warriors often found men to distract themselves and that's all they were, all they could ever be. As a high-born Lilthling it was her duty to return to Motovashnine and bond with an approved Lilthling man and produce Lilthling daughters to become future Lilthling leaders. That was always the plan, except the purge from Grimulsvoton is coming and it's going to destroy not just Miearline's world, but the world of everybody she has come to know and love, including the hunter with the deep-blue eyes.

 

_____

So you know, there's some swearing, some violence and some reference to sex. It's not "Game of Thrones" level, but it's there. It's not graphic and it has to do with the story.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott E. Douglas
• Release date: Jul 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201744687

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to my voice of wisdom for all things female, Miss Chantelle Drew, who never seems to tire of my silly questions and calls for advice about those things that I won’t trust the internet to tell me the truth about.

For this one I have two fine artists to acknowledge for the cover. The first is named Stephan Keller. Yes, I’m mentioning him again. If you haven’t already investigated his works, do it. They’re awesome. You’ll find them here:

https://pixabay.com/users/kellepics-4893063/

The other’s an amazing artist and model known as Inna Mikitas.

https://pixabay.com/users/innamikitas-15196666/

1: Executions

HARNGANARTH WAS MARCHED along the dim hallway to Piershalmir’s chambers flanked by a small group of guards. Two men were standing either side of the door.

We’re here for the girl, one of the guards growled.

Not until we get word from council, a man at the door retorted.

I am Raeantarz, leader of the first watch of the council chambers. I’m bringing you word from the council, the guard snapped. Why the fuck do you think we’ve got this bastard with us? He jerked his head toward Harnganarth.

Who’s he? the man at the door asked.

Cardinal Councillor South Harnganarth. Raeantarz shook his head. Where the fuck have you been living?

North, the man said.

You’re one of Janshubalia’s men?

I am, the man declared proudly.

Then you should know better than to interfere with Council business, Raeantarz warned. The purge has started.

If the purge has started then why aren’t his hands tied? The man pointed to Harnganarth.

Blood spurt from the side of the man’s neck and he fell dead.

Raeantarz looked at the other man in front of the door. Pivotal Councillor Janshubalia is happy to purge his own, Raeantarz told him. We’re here to fetch the girl and her pup.

The man swallowed. His companion’s blood on his face and tunic made the fear almost tangible. We were told we could use her before strangling her.

Well, now you’re going to have to find a tavern whore, aren’t you? Raeantarz said. Perhaps you can petition Councillor Janshubalia to pay for it for you.

The man opened his mouth but said nothing.

Maybe you can go someplace and play with it for yourself or ask one of your friends inside to play with it for you. Now step aside before there’s another bloody pile of shit in front of this door for the cleaners to clear up.

The man stepped aside. The small troop strode into the antechamber. There were four more men inside. From the smell Harnganarth knew what had happened.

Where’s the girl? Raeantarz snapped.

Who the fuck are you? one of the men inside asked.

If you’re too fucking stupid to listen to what’s going on just outside this door then perhaps you’re too fucking stupid to live, like your dead friend out there.

She’s in the bed chamber, cleaning herself up, one of the other men in the antechamber said.

After you four fucked her? Harnganarth growled.

Shut up you! Raeantarz snapped at him.

Harnganarth glared at Raeantarz and nodded contritely.

Bring her out, Raeantarz ordered. Bring her and that abomination with her.

Abomination? the first man asked.

The half-each with the Blutling name. It can’t be allowed!

It’s not to be killed, the man said. Orders from the council.

Orders from the council? Harnganarth asked.

It’s not to be killed, the man said again.

The door to the bed chamber opened and Shielran strode into the room. I was told it was going to happen here, she declared. She wore a brown tunic that almost matched her dark brown hair and carried herself more like a Blutling Princess than a terrified woman awaiting execution after being raped by four men.

Nothing more’s going to happen to you here, Harnganarth said softly and he nodded to Raeantarz.

One of the men in the antechamber was dead before Harnganarth could draw a short sword from beneath his tunic and dispatch two others. The fourth man fell to one of the other guards.

Get Jovarameu, Harnganarth snapped. We’re getting out of here.

Piershalmir...?

Harnganarth nodded to her. I paid for the executioner to make sure his axe was sharp, he said. It was all I could do.

Shielran bit her lip and went into the bed chamber, coming out some seconds later carrying a beautiful little red-haired girl who had just seen her second winter.

THE RABBLE IN THE SQUARE were overexcited. They’d now watched five executions, three Ulflings, one Vaerling and a Blutling. The Blutling had not only fucked a half-each woman, he’d also bonded with her and they’d also produced a child. His head was being added to the four heads already lined up along the edge of the stage so all could see the faces of the traitors purged from the citadel.

The sixth victim was pushed onto the block. This was the one he was there to witness. It was a Lilthling woman with long pale hair and defiant eyes whose crime hadn’t been announced. Ourntarle knew them though. Her name was Aeronine. She was young, strong, and pretty, and she’d open her legs to someone she shouldn’t. A Darklander. A handsome one, from the north. Not a Nauthran, but still, a Darklander. She wasn’t pregnant. She was there because someone else wanted her to open her legs for them, but she fucked a Darklander instead.

This was what the citadel had become in past seasons. Petty and vicious. Many said it wasn’t like that before, but Ourntarle doubted it. No one makes a cesspit intending it to be anything but a cesspit.

The crowd cheered as the executioner’s axe struck the Lilthling’s neck. Ourntarle despised their enthusiasm. They were told she deserved it and they believed it.

It wasn’t how he felt about the victim. She was Lingen and the cheering crowd was mostly Landers. Their fervour wasn’t for the killing of Lingen, it was for the purge. The removal of dangerous elements within the citadel who worked against the way things should be. The murder of innocents in the name of purity. To Ourntarle, the crowd was like a joyful herd of faíhu celebrating the protection of their butchers.

The second blow of the executioner’s axe separated the Lilthling woman’s head from her body. At least the executioner had sharpened it for her. The faíhu herd cheered again as the woman’s head was placed with the others and another victim was brought to the block. A Blutling woman this time. Ourntarle looked into the proud, dead eyes surrounded by the long brown hair about the dead Lilthling’s lovely face and had seen enough.

There were other lovely women he needed to see. Ones who were waiting their own executions. At least they weren’t going to suffer the indignity of a blunt axe, like the Lilthling and soon the Blutling. At least the Lilthling and the Blutling didn’t suffer the indignity of her captors using them for their pleasure like the...

A cheer erupted as the executioner’s axe struck the Blutling woman’s neck. Ourntarle looked at the guards holding the remaining woman and two men awaiting their deaths.

No. The women had been used, and so had one of the men. This was the cesspit that was Grimulsvoton.

HARNGANARTH TOOK SHIELRAN and Jovarameu to the western wall outside the citadel with Raeantarz’s help.

I’ll be able to get out from here, Harnganarth said.

I’ll go back and—

You’ll get out, Harnganarth ordered. It won’t be long before the other Cardinal Councillors are dragged into the square to lose their heads with anybody associated with them.

I have my way out, Raeantarz told him. We’ll be on Mikilgard soon.

Where’ll you go?

Raeantarz shrugged. I have friends in the Empire. I’ll find a place there.

Wise, Harnganarth said. There’ll be no place north of the rivers for a time.

There will be one day, Raeantarz said confidently. These people won’t stay bullied for long.

Don’t underestimate a people’s capacity to tolerate oppression, Harnganarth told him. The two raised their hands and clasped them in a sign of friendship.

Stay safe Councillor, Raeantarz said.

You do the same, my friend, Harnganarth said. He turned to Shielran once Raeantarz and the others left. Now, we need to leave the city.

Where are the others? Shielran asked.

Others?

Other councillors?

Unamir is gone south and Giratael has also fled, probably to find your parents.

And Keraelide? Shielran pressed.

Harnganarth shrugged. I believe he left when the Lilthling warriors left some days ago. That was the last time any of us saw him. That was just before the Faendlingen declared... He was a good man, he just...

He just couldn’t live outside of a stronghold. He wasn’t a farmer, nor a hunter, and he had no trade, and he was bonded to a half-each.

Like the son of the Regent of Amarthoul.

No, not like the son of the Regent of Amarthoul. He wasn’t the son of a Regent. He was barely even high-born. He brought us back to the only place he thought he could look after us.

Harnganarth touched Shielran’s hand. We’ll speak of this later, someplace safe. He took a deep breath and silently announced his desire to protect the life of this young mother and her baby.

The Otherness embraced him with warmth. The sky turned green and then blue again and they were standing outside the western gate of the city.

It’s good to see you safe, another of Harnganarth’s old friends said. It was the gate guard named Krainskain and he was carrying a roll and a black half-staff.

What’re you doing with that? Harnganarth asked.

Making sure you’re on your way to safety. You, your charge and your awadauhtar.

Awadauhtar? Harnganarth glanced at Shielran. The woman you claim is my charge is young enough to be my awadauhtar.

Have it your way, Krainskain said. I’m coming with you anyway.

Harnganarth nodded. He’d known the wily old gate guard too many seasons to argue with him.

2: In His Arms

MIEARLINE WENT TO THE hut she used in the walled village that had grown from the small settlement started by the Darklander named Mikiansarg. Smoke came through the thatch roof, so she knew what to expect. She strode inside and there he was.

Scaromael. She smiled at the six-foot Vaerling warrior who tended to the fire in the middle of her hut.

It was nearly out. Scaromael stood and turned to her. He had unruly blonde hair above not the handsomest face on Gardijon, wore a plain brown tunic that covered not the most alluring body on Gardijon, and embraced her with not the strongest arms that had ever held a woman on Gardijon, but he looked at her with those eyes. Those deep, beautiful eyes.

I don’t know why I put up with you, she said playfully.

Because I’m adorable? he asked. Because I’m one of the few men who love how you look in those leathers?

Because you’re convenient. She put her arms on his shoulders. And these leathers are a part of me.

They remind me you’re a Lilthling warrior and not just another beautiful woman, he teased.

I suppose. She huffed. If you weren’t around to stoke my fire, I’d be cold at night.

I think I can keep you warm enough without a fire.

I wasn’t talking about that fire. She smiled. Have you prepared some food for me?

Scaromael shook his head.

Well then, maybe you’re not as convenient as I hoped you would be.

We can’t eat the meat in the pot until it’s cooked, he whispered in her ear, sending shivers through her.

How long will it take to cook? she asked.

To long to just sit and wait.

What should we do while we wait?

I don’t know. He unfastened the clasp that held the front of her leather armour beneath her left arm.

I thought you said you liked my leathers?

I do. He unfastened the clasp beneath it and then the clasp on her left shoulder that held the front and back pieces together. I also like the cloth armour underneath it.

Oh really? She nodded as he discarded the leather shell about the sewn together lien layers that kept her both warm and safe.

Not really, he whispered again and put his hands on her waist beneath the lien. Raise your hands.

Why?

So I can look at the beautiful Lilthling warrior I’m with.

You’re full of shit.

Raise your hands. His voice was firm but not demanding. Something a Lilthling man would never be. Raise them.

She did and he pushed the lien layers upward. She laughed as they bunched together and wouldn’t go higher than her breasts. When’re you going to stop trying to do that? she asked as she took hold of the garment at the shoulders and pulled it over her head. Now get your tunic and breeches off so I can look at the man I’m with.

He took his tunic off but left his breeches on.

Well? Miearline said and nodded to his pants. I’m not taking mine off until you take yours.

Scaromael reached behind her head and gently kissed her.

The kiss was long and tender and left her chest thumping hard. His breath had the bitter scent of night-shine. His other hand had found its way to a breast and its gentle pressure squeezed excitement through her.

Lay down, he ordered and pointed to her bed against the wall.

What about those breeches? Miearline whispered.

I’ll take them off once I’ve taken yours.

Miearline bit her lip then laid on the bed. She lifted her hips as he drew her breeches away from her. He took his own off and Miearline allowed herself to be held by a man with the strongest arms, the most alluring body, and the handsomest face who’d ever held a woman on Gardijon.

SCAROMAEL HAD PUT TWO eostran into the pot that hung over the fire. He had skinned and gutted them and even boned them. When Miearline asked why he went to so much trouble he shrugged and muttered something about his own pot needing some bones. He was lying, and knew that Miearline sensed the lie, but it held no malice. It was only his way of saying he was hiding something harmless.

She rolled to face away from the wall and looked at the back of the head of the man sleeping beside her. He was a harmless distraction. That’s all he could ever be. He was somebody she could enjoy while she remained on Greantalia, before she would have to return to her Keep. The Keep at Motovashnine near where the Ermarcian River empties into the Kluzark Sea. It was a lifetime away from the Vaerlings of the island of Greantalia. A lifetime away from this man. She sighed at that thought.

There was nothing wrong with having a distraction while she remained to serve the Aldeven and... rubbish. The Aldeven was safely protected by three himnis-bluts and their bearers and...

How did it come to this? She wasn’t going to take a man. There were already too many women for the men of the villages. The war had taken such a toll, it didn’t seem right. Liasinine hadn’t wasted any time finding a man to share a bed with, she’d taken care of that before Miearline returned from Amarthoul. Then a friend of the man servicing Liasinine started taking care of Verianine. Miearline tried to ignore what the girls did when they weren’t going about their duties. Then came the bonding ceremony between Rundismir and his Peanaidhial.

You approve of this? she remembered Scaromael asking her at the food table during the feast after the ceremony.

Approve of a Runier bonding with the woman he loves? she answered. Of course I don’t. It’s a terrible fate for that poor woman.

Scaromael chuckled. I thought you would, he said. I saw it on your face when they tied the bonding ribbon about their wrists.

And what was on my face?

Affection.

You think I was jealous?

Scaromael smiled. I think you melted like you’d just heard the happy ending of a beautifully told story. You’re one of the Lilthlings, aren’t you?

I am, Miearline said.

May I look at your hand?

Why?

I can tell so much about a person from their hands. May I?

Miearline held her right hand toward him.

Is that the hand you wield a sword with?

No. I don’t’ wield a sword.

But you’d wield it with this hand if you did?

Miearline shook her head.

May I have the other, them?

There. She held out her left hand.

It’s as I thought, he said as he ran his fingers over the callouses on her palm. I’m very pleased to meet you, and I’m glad you approve of this bond.

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Miearline told him, and if you wanted to talk to me you could have started the conversation with something else.

And risk not discovering that you’re someone I’d like to meet?

So your question was a test? Is that what you’re telling me?

My name is Scaromael, he said. I’m glad that we could talk.

I’m glad, Miearline said with a deliberate lack of enthusiasm.

He walked off without even asking her name.

She didn’t see him again until she went on a hunt with her girls and some of the men from the village. Three exceptionally large bairas had been seen nearby. It wasn’t just that they would supply a lot of meat, they were big enough to be dangerous and hungry enough to threaten the forage that hadn’t yet recovered from winter. In one of those kinds of accidents that somehow goes unnoticed, Miearline managed to get a deep cut along the back of her bow hand while skinning one of the beasts at the site of the kill in the forest. It was a Darklander who noticed it. Miearline didn’t feel it until she saw it. Then it hurt.

Scaromael came to see.

We’ll need to clean it and bind it, he said as he carefully took her hand.

Does this hand still have your approval? Miearline asked.

I’ll see when I clean it. Come with me.

Miearline handed the knife she was using to Liasinine who took it with a cheeky smile. Miearline glared at her before allowing herself to be led away to the water skins.

Sit, Scaromael ordered and she did.

He fetched one of the smaller water skins and motioned to her to show him the wound. She did and he poured water over it.

It doesn’t look as bad as it did, Scaromael said. Not all of the blood is yours so I’m going to have to... he looked behind. I thought I saw some. He went to a small clump of plants with heart-shaped purple leaves. He picked two of the leaves and returned. I’m going to wipe this over the gash, he said softly. It’s going to hurt for a while; then it won’t. I need you to tell me as soon as it stops hurting.

A cut like this will probably hurt for some time, Miearline said weakly.

Not with this. Scaromael took her hand and wiped the first leaf across the wound. He was right. It was like something stung her. She tried to pull herself away but Scaromael’s hold was too firm. Look at me, he ordered.

She gazed for the first time into those deep blue eyes.

Tell me when it doesn’t hurt. He kept his eyes locked on hers.

It took a few seconds for her to no longer notice the pain in her hand. When she finally managed to tear her gaze away from his and looked at her hand, she could see the length and depth of the cut, but couldn’t feel it. There’s no pain, she told him.

That’s good. He tossed the leaf aside.

That’s night-shine, Miearline said.

It is. He went to the bags they’d brought and returned with a small handful of moer moss. It’ll relieve the pain and stop the bairas blood poisoning your blood. He packed the moss onto the wound and produced a strip of lien from somewhere and used it to secure the moss to her hand.

You’re Scaromael, Miearline said. We spoke at the bonding of Rundismir and Peanaidhial.

And you’re Princess Miearline, leader of the Lilthlings here and a woman of fine character.

Princess? Miearline chuckled. Where did you get that from?

You’re related to a Lilthling Queen?

Princess is an Otherlander word.

And one used to denote a royal woman of exceptional beauty.

You think that’s what I am?

Scaromael smiled. I’d need to be a woman to not notice your beauty. Do I look like I have a vagina?

No, you won’t.

Well then. That must mean I don’t.

And that must also mean that I won’t have your penis.

Now hold on there, Scaromael told her. I only told you that you’re attractive, something you must already know. But we hardly know each other. All I’m doing is binding your hand. It’s a little early in our relationship for you to start speaking about my penis.

Well you asked to have my vagina.

"I asked if I had a vagina. Besides, what would your girls think if you tried to do something about my penis while we’re here? Your knife’s near the bairas, over there. There’ll be talk."

Although his voice was a playful scold what he said wasn’t funny. Miearline laughed.

They spoke occasionally while her hand healed. He offered to check on the dressing. She refused and he threatened to enlist Liasinine’s bed-buddy to keep tabs on how well she was looking after it. Miearline saw such a thick liuganvarm over the threat that he clearly wasn’t trying to hide that it was a lie. She agreed to allow him to check on her every three or four days.

None of this opened her legs for him, and he didn’t try to bed her.

Then one day she saw what she thought was the reason for this. She came upon him in the village speaking with a girl of five or six seasons. It looked like she’d been crying and Scaromael was trying to comfort her. He held the body of a small bird and was telling her he and her mother would release the creatures saival in the fires in their hut that night. It was such a sweet sight until the girl called him arnva. It was like a stone dropped into her stomach.

Arnva. It was atta where she was from and it meant the same thing. Father.

Hello, she said softly. What happened here?

My fugul died, the girl said.

That’s so sad. Miearline crouched beside the girl. Is your arnva here going to help you? She glanced at Scaromael.

Take the fugul to Arnthei. Tell her I’ll be around tonight with some meat, and we’ll have his pyre.

He handed the bird to the girl and she ran off.

You’re bonded? Miearline said and stood.

No, Scaromael said.

The girl called you Arnva, and her mother still lives. She smiled, determined not to feel. She’s a sweet child.

Scaromael sighed. Meybanial? Yes, she is. She’s my sinisdauhtar. She reminds me of her father sometimes. He looked at Miearline. He was my brother. He died three summers ago when the Theolympians attacked. He died fighting for his bond and children. Meybanial stopped calling me sinisothar when she stopped crying for her father.

And you provide for the family?

I do.

Because the mother is still unbonded?

She is.

Do you like her?

I do. She was my brother’s bond and I love her dearly.

You’ll provide for her, but you won’t bond with her?

I’m good friends with her, Scaromael stepped toward Miearline. Good friends don’t hump each other.

Is that what we are? Miearline asked. Good friends?

Scaromael shook his head. We are friendly, that’s all. We’re neither friends nor lovers.

Maybe we should be friends.

Maybe we should. He took her hand. It healed well, he said and turned it over. Come with me. He started into the village.

Where? Miearline asked.

Let’s find out if we’re really friends. He tugged at her hand, and she followed.

Where are you taking me?

Someplace to discover if we’re friends or not.

He led her to a hut on the edge of the village, led her inside the hut, closed the door and put his arms around her. That was when she discovered they weren’t friends and became lovers.

Scaromael rolled over and looked at her. Were you staring at me?

You know I’ll have to return to my people someday soon?

I know one day I’ll be sad. He ran his fingers down her face. I know I’m not sad now.

Why not?

I’m with a woman I’ve come to love. Not one I can keep, but I’m with her now.

That was enough to make her want. She didn’t want love, she didn’t want to feel, she just wanted this man to be hers, even if it was only  for a time.

3: Westward

HARNGANARTH, SHIELRAN and Krainskain took the road away from the city to the north-west. It was the way to Aenurlsvoton, but it would also take them to Arunsvarn, which is where the army of Vaerlings and Darklanders landed more than two seasons ago. If they didn’t want to go there, they could go to Kiearsvarn to find passage on a fishing vessel. It was the path that made sense if they were to escape and the path on which they were most likely to be seen, which is why they took it.

It was also the reason they moved west, off the road and into the shrubs, before Sauilin started setting.

How much longer do we have to walk? Shielran asked. They had been taking turns carrying Jovarameu. It was Shielran’s turn carrying the girl who had started fretting and being difficult. Jovarameu needs to be changed and fed and put down to sleep.

We can’t stop, Krainskain said. I’ve got all she will need a little further up this path.

Path? Shielran said incredulously.

Yes, path, Harnganarth said. You can’t see it, but Krainskain can.

How?

"The same way a fairweitjan would see us using