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

Chapter 2

“Shit.”

My little finger throbbed insistently, but there was no time to deal with the injury when I had more pressing concerns. After a fleeting glance to ensure there was no lasting damage, I scanned my surroundings for signs of the thief. For a moment, I worried they’d slipped away, consumed by the sea of faces.

Then I saw him.

A child burst through the market, fighting against the surge of oncoming fae and moving with an urgency at odds with those around him. I hurried after him, making rushed apologies to those I collided with in my haste to chase him through the crowd.

Once in the fresh air and open space of the city, he picked up speed, running like his life depended on it. I pressed on, pursuing him with every drop of energy I had. My lungs burned, each breath becoming more difficult than the last as I wove through the pristine streets in relentless pursuit.

I couldn’t let this happen. Reuben had trusted me with the generous funds to boost the chances of my cover story being believed, a wise decision in the end, but we couldn’t afford to lose them. That money was earmarked for vital supplies, and every member of the Night Ravens would suffer the consequences of my mistake.

It was my responsibility to make sure it wasn’t lost to the capital.

The thief led me on a wild chase as he attempted to evade me, but he’d underestimated my desperation. I wouldn’t let anything sabotage my position as a scout, no matter what it cost me.

We raced past the Grand Library before cutting through the Plaza of the Enlightened, curving around the enormous altar at its centre. Five statues possessing the gods’ likenesses were buried in valuable offerings. The god of prosperity, Saru, and Ael, the goddess of magic, had the most ardent worshippers, but all had amassed piles of coins and jewels that glittered in the afternoon sunlight. It wasn’t the only tribute we saw, but it was the largest by far.

Still, the boy ran, showing no signs of slowing.

My concern grew. I wasn’t built for running long distances, thriving in situations where a more subtle approach was needed, but the pickpocket had forced me to pursue him across half the city and I didn’t know if I could keep up for much longer.

He ducked into an alleyway and I followed close behind, smiling despite my breathlessness. We’d reached a dead end, an ivy-covered wall cutting us off from the rest of the capital. The boy skidded to a halt, his head darting wildly in every direction as he considered his next move.

I drew my bow in a bid to discourage him from doing anything reckless. My hand was sticky with blood, but I pushed through the stinging sensation to keep it levelled at him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said, a cold authority to my voice.

“Please. I need this.” The boy’s chin wobbled as he valiantly fought back tears. He was younger than I’d realised. Heartbreakingly young. Dirt plastered his distraught face, and his clothes were nothing more than rags.

I softened, remembering the disease that was hopelessness; how it robbed you of all the light in the world. “I need it too. Return the money and I’ll let you go. I won’t tell the guards, but only if you give it back now.”

He met my gaze with a fierce determination that I had to respect, sizing me up to assess any chance of escape. I witnessed the moment the fight left him. He sank to the ground, holding out the pouch while he sobbed into the filthy sleeve of his shirt.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, retrieving it from his tiny hand. My chest tightened, rage flooding me. He should be safe in a warm home, sheltered from the cruelty of life, not risking the wrath of the gods and the pretentious city fae, who were far less forgiving.

His broken spirit brought a memory to the surface unbidden, my cries for help left unanswered as the crushing realisation of my loss crashed into me. No one had cared, the burden mine alone to bear. I blinked it away, but the ache in my chest remained.

I did the only thing I could for him, pressing a silver coin into his palm, wincing at the sight of his marked skin. It was a poor substitute for what he’d attempted to steal from me, but it would provide a hot meal, at least. “Now, go.”

He scarpered, leaving me alone in the alleyway, wondering if I’d only prolonged the inevitable. He might have stood a chance of success as a scout with the quick reflexes he’d displayed, but the dagger emblem seared into his skin was unmistakable. He was bound to the thieves’ guild that caused the city guard so much strife. There would be too many questions raised by one of their young recruits going missing, and it wouldn’t take long for whispers of a silver-haired woman with a bow reaching the wrong ears. Our chase through the streets must have been witnessed by hundreds of fae.

Scouts were forbidden from interfering beyond the scope of our mission. We were sent across Idrix to observe, record and report back. Whatever happened after that was out of our hands.

Clenching my teeth, I rinsed my injured finger with the unpleasantly warm water from my canteen. The wound stung in complaint as I dressed it with the cleanest of my rags. It would suffice until I healed, likely within a matter of hours, the shallow cut a minor inconvenience at most.

With the coin purse securely tucked into my pack, this time with a firm grip protecting it, I headed to my favourite place in the capital, an oasis of calm where I could steady myself before the journey back.

The glittering waters of the Sapphire Sea greeted me like an old friend. There was no land visible on the horizon with the coastline of Hightower just out of reach, but merchant ships dotted my view, their richly coloured sails contrasting the deep blue water in the golden afternoon light. I knew better than to wade in, staying behind the safety of the railing as I gazed out across the endless sea that had once been a huge part of my life, now tinged with a bitter sorrow.

It was a reminder of what was at stake, what adding to my tally of successful missions was all for. A reminder to not repeat the mistakes of the past.

I watched the bobbing waves until the air grew chilly with the retreat of the sun, goosebumps prickling my flesh. Taking a final look at the Sapphire Sea, not knowing how long it would be until I saw it again, I returned to the gates.

I blended into the throngs of fae exiting the Amber City, following them down steep stone steps and over a heavily guarded bridge to the grassy plains beyond. The guards paid us no mind, more concerned with who was entering, not leaving.

Here we passed the camps of those not fortunate enough to sleep within the walls, a second city that was smelly, messy and lively in a vast contrast to the perfection demanded of the capital’s inner districts. Merchants travelled between tents, pedalling their wares. A huge fire pit attracted hundreds, its warmth providing sanctuary from the elements, and, most bizarrely of all, kegs of the famous Amber Ale floated towards a rowdy gathering, likely the efforts of an Air-Blessed fae hidden in the group. Not the wisest use of a rare gift, but certainly a bold one.

Instead of joining the masses on their way to Tirrim or climbing into a carriage to take the High Road south, I snuck away. My journey required a less trodden path, one that would swap the travellers complaining of their aching feet with more reclusive wildlife. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment. Doubling back to ensure I wasn’t followed, I slipped into the welcoming arms of the Yewdew Forest.

And then I was blissfully alone.

Lush foliage brushed against my skin as I passed, a familiar breeze lifting the ends of my hair. I took a deep breath, letting the earthy scent flood my nose. Tension eased from my body with every step, my confidence blossoming the deeper I went.

Many Idrixians considered the forest dangerous, preferring to venture along the High Road and avoid it entirely. While navigating it carried some risks, they had been greatly exaggerated by tales the Night Ravens spun across Idrix during our missions, another layer of protection to conceal our existence.

In reality, there was nowhere I felt safer, the growing darkness posing no issues. I knew these woods better than the back of my hand; where the birds gathered, where the water was at its purest, and where to camp for the best vantage point. I could walk through it with my eyes closed.

I refilled my canteen from a stream along the way, draining it several times before my dry throat was satisfied. The events of the day had taken a toll, my body aching in places that usually didn’t bother me. I hung my head in shame. It had been a close call with the thief, and before that I’d nearly failed to persuade the merchant to show me his artefacts. I had to be better than this. My mistakes weren’t only my own, they affected everyone in the Night Ravens.

Nothing short of perfection was acceptable.

Unwrapping my makeshift bandage, I checked my finger, finding it healed save for a faint line where the cut had been. I hoped the scar would remain, reminding me of the cost of letting my guard down.

The last stretch of my walk was brutal in more ways than one. As I passed the familiar scenery of the woodland, I recalled everything I’d said and done during the day, analysing it in excruciating detail for ways I could improve. Obvious glamours were considered vulgar in the capital, a sign that someone couldn’t afford the genuine article, but I should’ve taken more care to make a good first impression. It had been foolish to assume an attendant sent on behalf of their wealthy master wouldn’t be held to the exacting standards of the city’s residents. And I certainly shouldn’t have let a young thief get the better of me. A frequent presence, the critical voice in my mind berated me over and over until numbness was all I had left.

By the time I stumbled into my favourite clearing, all I was capable of was collapsing on my bedroll. I laid on the thin material for several minutes before I was able to summon the energy to set up my camp. It was far from a pleasant experience. My arms protested as I gathered firewood, a heavy tiredness settling into my bones. Lighting my campfire took so much time that my teeth were chattering from the cold night when I finally succeeded.

To round off a wonderful evening, when unlacing my boots as I prepared for sleep, I discovered a hole. The soles had been thinning a long time, and I’d known this day would come, but I’d hoped they would hold on until the end of my mission. I let out a string of curses, the trees my only witness. All I could do was stuff the hole with large red-root leaves, but it would require a stroke of luck for the quick fix to last.

And as it turned out, luck wasn’t on my side.

The next morning, a torrential downpour began, rain falling in an angry curtain that saturated the ground. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me, the forest becoming a grey haze. Each step trapped me in mud, my progress forward painfully slow. Which god had I angered to deserve such a miserable fate?

I finished my journey barefoot, my shoes hanging uselessly from one hand, trying not to cringe as my legs squelched into the sludge. My feet were so cold they stung, my skin blotchy red.

Setting my ruined boots down, I grasped for the barrier of the glamoured wards protecting the castle and its surroundings. The only indication of their presence was a small flicker where the invisible shields met the ground, otherwise the scenery was unremarkable.

Wards strong enough to hide the existence of something as large as the Old Keep required unmatched precision as well as power. The Night Raven’s secretive founder was the only one capable of such a feat, though little was known about how they’d managed it.

A gentle warmth settled over me as the magic accepted me inside. Around me the scenery distorted, the canopy of trees vanishing, replaced by a ruined castle.

It must have once been an impressive fortress before it had withered away, reclaimed by nature. Four towers stood before me, one of which was little more than a few crumbling stones, joined by a curtain wall that had collapsed in several places. A large tree grew through the heart of the structure, its roots disturbing the foundations, yet it seemed to be the only thing holding it together. Moss covered every surface, and it was rare to find a crack that wasn’t playing host to a plant of some kind.

Stone steps, crooked due to the shrubs that sprouted between them, led up to a surprisingly well-preserved gatehouse. Everything smelt damp and old, the scent heightened by the rainfall.

“You look terrible. I haven’t seen rain like this in months,” Sal said in greeting, leaning on a sword nearly as tall as her as she guarded the rusty portcullis. Her short, blonde hair was dripping with rainwater, but it didn’t appear to bother her.

Despite being the Head of the Watch, she often took the front sentry position herself, preferring to be the first line of defence for the castle. Her intentions weren’t necessarily selfless. Guarding the gatehouse meant she knew all the comings and goings of the Old Keep, bolstering her influence.

I held my stinking, sodden boots up to her, cringing as cold water trickled beneath my sleeve. “I’m due a visit to the supply cupboard.”

She snorted, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Good luck with that. You could show him the torched remains and Barrett would still lecture you on the importance of maintaining your equipment.”

Sal was right. Barrett was a miserable bastard who would glare at you for daring to ask, whether it was warranted or not.

“I’m going to fight that particular battle after a long rest. I’ll take all the luck I can get.”

“You should hurry. Dinner’s served and it’s a full house tonight.” Sal pulled a face. “It’s stew, again.” When you left the ruined castle as rarely as the sentries, a regular meal was guaranteed, but variety was not.

I looked down, grimacing at the state of my filthy feet. “I’ll head over once I’ve bathed.”

As I brushed past her, Sal clapped me on the shoulder so hard I stumbled, the most affectionate gesture the intimidating woman could offer. “Welcome back, scout.”