The Archer & the Flame (Whispers of the Night Ravens #1)

Chapter 1

It was said that those who entered the gates of the Amber City were bestowed with the favour of the gods, a parting gift from the five deities that pooled their magic to birth Idrix thousands of years ago.

It was a convenient myth, spun up in a bid to attract hordes of admiring visitors, and judging by the fae battling to press their hands to the white stone as they passed, it was working.

I wasted no time with the frivolous tradition, not when I was counting down the hours until I could return to the peace and quiet of the forest. Here, in the bustling city, it felt like a distant memory. But I had orders to carry out, and I’d never failed a mission. I had no intention of starting now.

“Maps! Get your maps here! Need a navigator?” Hawkers swarmed me, eagerly thrusting scrolls of faded parchment at my chest. I batted them away with a knowing glare, unwilling to become another victim of their schemes. The maps were freely available from the Grand Library, taken and resold to unsuspecting travellers, and the navigators whose services they pedalled were inexperienced youths, more likely to lose you than provide direction.

At my dismissal, they lost interest and moved onto easier marks, of which there were many, but it was only the beginning of my trials.

The city was nothing short of spectacular. I strode through curved streets lined with white buildings, adorned with sculpted facades of intricate patterns and the famous amber stained-glass windows that gave the capital its name. A row of trees divided the footpath in two, but in the place of leaves hanging from the branches were orbs of ever-burning flame, ensuring darkness never blanketed the city. Beneath them, fae talked and laughed loudly, sipping from tiny, steaming goblets as they occupied wooden benches. Perched on a hill, overlooking it all, was the White Temple, the sacred monument where the Circle of the Enlightened carried out their divine judgements.

I didn’t linger. Where once the city had stirred my curiosity, promising cultural delights found nowhere else in Idrix, I had long grown tired of it. Instead, I headed directly to my destination.

The busy marketplace at the heart of the city was my idea of hell. Too many sweltering bodies were packed under its glass roof, struggling against each other. The heavy scents of spiced pastries, roasting meats, and bubbling pots of wine battled for dominance, while the chatter of excited customers melded together into a grating noise. Strangers brushed against me, too close for comfort, my body tense at their unwelcome touch.

As with many buildings, the marketplace had been designed with appearances in mind over function. The masterfully decorated stalls, each encased in its own wooden structure, left a pitiful amount of room to walk between them. The poor design was a consequence of the capital’s own making. Residents were hand-selected, invitations based on the size of their coin purse and their long list of accomplishments. Only the finest fae were worthy to reside where gods once walked, after all.

Unfortunately, that rarely included those with common sense.

It was a shame their inflated egos were just as large, looking down their noses at anyone who didn’t meet their impossible standards. With my rough-cut silver hair, tattered clothing and bow slung over my shoulder, they made no effort to hide their sneers.

The sooner I left the city, the better.

I kept my elbows tucked in as I moved deeper inside, removing the temptation to jab the audacious fae pushing past me. Causing a commotion was a certain way to attract unwanted attention, and I knew better than to compromise myself like that. A scout of the Night Ravens was required to be stealthy above all else, blending into our surroundings to uncover the information we sought. Mere shadows that vanished once our orders had been fulfilled.

The occupants of the market were an impenetrable wall, an ever-moving obstacle standing between me and my target. The only way to move forward was to drag my body through any gap, no matter how narrow, ignoring the pressure against my ribcage and the queasy sensation it prompted. Yet there were those in the crowd that smiled, holding hands as they navigated the crush. Enjoying themselves. City folk scared me more than the dangerous creatures that roamed the Yewdew Forest.

When I reached the antiques merchant and the small haven of space his stall provided, I had to steady myself against the wall, breathing in the sweet air of freedom. Around me chaos reigned, the market becoming busier every moment. The next time Reuben required a scout to investigate it, I would tell him to look elsewhere.

“Are you well?” A young woman with hair as dark as the night sky and full, rounded cheeks asked. She was reassuringly steady, the embodiment of calm in the mayhem of the marketplace.

“I will be. I’m not used to the busyness,” I answered. Was she asking out of true concern or searching for a weakness? If experience had taught me anything, it was that someone approaching usually had a hidden agenda. I stayed on alert, waiting for the stranger to reveal hers.

“Took me a while too. It’s worth it though. There are real treasures here, if you know where to look.” She smiled. “Good luck.”

I couldn’t figure out her angle. She’d asked nothing of me, my purse hadn’t been relieved of coins, and there was no evidence of foul play. Had she been genuine? By the time I’d gathered myself enough to ask what she was doing there, she had already disappeared into the crowd.

The shelves of the antiques stall were crammed floor to ceiling with, from what my undiscerning gaze could tell, useless junk. There were dusty tomes, faded brass ornaments, and what looked to be someone’s forgotten spectacles. But customers were rummaging through the wares, someone shrieking with delight as they unearthed a hidden gem.

Ignoring them, I approached the main counter, a white bar inlaid with amber detailing where the merchant was chatting jauntily with his patrons. He was well-built, a pristine teal cloak hanging from his shoulders, and an impressive ginger beard to match his bushy hair.

The moment he laid eyes on me, his smile vanished, his gaze drifting down my body and settling on my frayed sleeves. “There’s nothing for you here.”

I cleared my throat, removing a scroll from my pack and handing it to him. A red wax seal kept the thick parchment rolled up, the exceptional quality of the letter a vital part of selling my cover story. The supplies had come from Reuben’s personal stores, and he’d instructed me to ensure a single crease didn’t ruin the message’s presentation. It had been easier said than done, but I was glad to see it had survived thus far.

“I’m here on behalf of my master. You’re known as the finest purveyor of rarities on the mainland, and he won’t settle for less.” I laid the flattery on thick in the hope he’d be too busy preening at the compliment to read into the meaning. It wasn’t a lie, at least not enough of one to prevent me from speaking it, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Reuben was technically my master, as far as someone I would take orders from, and the merchant did have a reputation that preceded him.

He held the parchment gingerly, unconvinced by my efforts, peering around me as if to move onto his next customer.

I tried again, unwilling to give up without a fight. There was a reason I’d gained notoriety within the Night Ravens for being stubborn to a fault. “That’s a letter detailing his requirements. He insisted I came directly to you.”

He shrugged, after a long moment breaking the seal and unfurling the scroll. I waited with bated breath as he scanned the contents, nodding and humming to himself. Reuben had always been skilled with words, wielding them as others wielded magic. I didn’t share the ability, to my frustration.

“Do you think I’ve built my reputation for excellence by being easily swayed by some pretty words? Your master should come here himself if he wants to talk business, instead of wasting my time with some lackey.” He tore the parchment in half, letting the fragments flutter to the ground. “Guards!”

This was about to become complicated. Two men clad in the amber robes of the city guard burst in, grabbing my arms as they attempted to strong-arm me out of the market.

“She’s outstayed her welcome. Escort her from the premises and make sure she never returns.” He shifted his focus to the next customer in line, a handsome youth with an elaborate cloak.

It was time for my last resort. I would attract the notice of every thief in the surrounding area, but I had no other choice. There wouldn’t be another chance to inspect his wares, not without a new scout assigned and weeks of preparation. By then, it could be too late.

“Wait. Look in my pack before you banish me. My master suspected you would doubt the legitimacy of his interest, so he sent me with proof of funds.”

He hesitated. The guards dragged me away, but I put up no fight, watching him waver with a glimmer of anticipation. Pleading my case would be no help at this point; he needed to decide for himself. It was a delicate dance, and one misstep would cause him to lose interest.

We’d made it all the way back to the threshold of the stall, far enough for doubt to finally set in, when he spoke. “Check her pack.”

I released a breath as the guards let me go, rifling through my pack with little regard for my belongings, evidently deeming there was little of value contained within. When they unearthed the sizable pouch, filled to the brim with silver coins, they handed it to the shocked merchant.

“A deposit should your reputation be justified,” I said.

He picked a coin from the top of the pile, examining it in the amber light of the glass roof. Satisfied, he waved away the guards. “Your services are no longer needed.”

They left the stall without a word, their blank expressions revealing nothing about his abrupt change of mind. It was unlikely to be the strangest course of events they’d witnessed while protecting the Amber City and its entitled residents.

He turned to me, becoming an entirely different man. “I hope there are no hard feelings. You can’t be too careful with who to trust in these unsettling times.” He laughed, as if we were sharing a private joke.

I brushed myself down, tilting my chin up in the haughty way I’d seen the residents do. “Indeed.”

He murmured a few words into his assistant’s ear, beckoning me to his side.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling aside a curtain behind the counter and revealing an unremarkable wooden door. Opening it partway, he slipped inside. I followed closely behind.

Where I’d expected a storeroom with additional stock, the small room was bare except for a small table with a heavy chest resting on it. He placed my coin pouch next to the chest, keeping it within reach.

“Your master made a wise choice to seek me out. I have a talent for finding enchanted relics and persuading fae to part with them. It makes for an impressive collection, if I do say so myself.”

I held back an eye roll, playing the part of a dedicated lackey, as he’d deemed me.

He retrieved an old key from his pocket, unlocking the chest with a loud click and exposing its valuable contents. Resting on a velvet-lined tray, equally spaced apart, were three artefacts.

The first was a thin dagger, the hilt carved from black stone and the tip impossibly sharp. Scratches marked the blade, but that didn’t spoil its beauty. A goblet of ice came next, tendrils of fog spilling from its rim. It was so finely cut that its surface sparkled in the dim light like a gemstone. The third and final object was an elegant hand mirror, the glass held in place by hundreds of tiny butterflies, their wings fluttering in tandem.

They were extraordinary.

He grinned smugly at my reaction. “Beautiful pieces, aren’t they?”

“May I?” I asked. I used my words sparingly, preferring to let him lead the conversation. Most fae found silence awkward and felt compelled to break it, usually by talking without thought. By holding my tongue, I could learn a great deal, sometimes things my target hadn’t intended to share.

“Certainly. Examine them to your heart’s content so you may send word to your master of their worth.”

I picked up the dagger carefully, avoiding placing my fingers anywhere near its sharp tip. “What does it do?”

His finger twitched almost too quick to notice, but I did, filing away the information. “It belonged to the Prince of Shadows in Gladhaven’s undercity, the prized dagger that he used to seize control of the misfits and miscreants to build his empire. According to my source, it’s sharp enough to cut through anything.”

“And this one?” The goblet was painful to hold, but I didn’t let my discomfort show. He wasn’t the type to respond well to weakness. Instead, I gritted my teeth and tolerated the pain.

“It passed through many owners over the years, and even I do not know it’s true origin, but it is believed to indicate the presence of poison to its bearer.”

“And the mirror?” It tickled as I held it. My reflection betrayed none of its secrets, simply showing my usual appearance. The determined gleam in my blue eyes, the sharp line of my jaw, and my silver hair as I tucked it behind the point of my ear.

“Smuggled out from Eirel. I went to great trouble to procure it on the assurance that it would show glimpses of the holder’s future.”

“And does it?” I couldn’t resist the question.

His finger twitched again, and I worried I’d pushed him too far, but he answered. “It hasn’t revealed the future to me yet, but I trust my source.”

“I see. I believe I have everything I need.” Everything I needed for my mission, at least.

I had to admire it. The ruse was meticulously crafted to draw attention where it was wanted, from his initial reluctance, to the artistry of the velvet-lined chest and his precisely chosen words. Any ordinary fae would be taken in.

But I was no ordinary fae.

My training with the Night Ravens had been exhaustive. I’d studied the history and characteristics of magic for years, from the elemental Blessings a rare few were gifted, through to the elusive artefacts that were all that remained of Idrix’s ancient magic. I could spot an enchanted object immediately, but there wasn’t a spark in the vicinity.

The glamour was impressive, a flawless example of the fae ability to mask something, or someone’s, true appearance. But I knew what to look for. Almost invisible to the naked eye, a tiny flicker in the illusion was the confirmation I needed.

Fake. It was all fake. From the beating of the butterflies’ wings to the ache in my fingers as I’d held the goblet.

Yet another dead end

“I take it your master will be satisfied?” The merchant’s hand flexed towards my coins. I snatched them up before he could reach them.

“You have a collection that many would envy, but nothing that would suit his requirements at present.” I kept my voice level, giving nothing away. “Should that change, we know where to find you.”

“Another useless time waster,” he muttered under his breath.

As frustrating as it was to walk away from the swindle knowing others would fall for it, my orders were to investigate, not intervene. And the last thing the Night Ravens needed was to make our presence known in the capital of all places.

“Thank you for your time,” I said instead.

I made a swift exit from the antiques stall before the merchant decided to call for the guards again. Pushing through the crowd, I had hoped to leave behind the suffocation of the marketplace before I found trouble, but the day had more in store for me. A sharp pain was my only warning before I was relieved of my coin purse by quick hands.

As I’d feared, the thieves had found me.