The Raven’s Egg

The Raven’s Egg

By Aquabeard

The gentle breath of waves hung over the shoreline of Kryta, dappled by specks of rain that dropped aimlessly from the sky. Further off towards the west a diagonal torrent darkened the horizon, but here there was almost peace. Grim Mortbane stood near the prow of the ship studying the hazy features of the shore. A verdant green bled beyond the salty gray rain and he couldn’t wait to finally smell the damp vegetation.

“We’re not there yet, friend.”

But nothing comes without a price. Grim turned and tried calculating the distance between the ship and its pursuers, scythe leaning calmly on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. If they catch us we’ll be more than ready.”

The man beside Grim wiped a drop of rain that had landed on his eye. “You didn’t bring that scythe to cut wheat, eh? I’m not all that good at sword swinging myself.”

“Then stay behind me.” Grim stole another quick glance at the shoreline, which felt so close and so real that he could almost touch it. He raised his hands to imagine feeling it, the mist he reached through was cold, the sand white and soft, the trees like moss.

“Almost upon us. I hope you can really use that scythe.”

“You’ve never seen a dervish before have you?”

“For all I know you’re just a hooded guy out to mow grass.”

The pursuers were almost abreast and Grim quietly sounded a prayer. He felt the earth below the ocean surge through him, the vitality strengthening his bones. A fireball suddenly flashed across the deck, hissing under the thickening rain. For a moment there was only the gray sound of waves and dropping water, all the men and women balancing on the moment, and then the two ships collided portside against starboard.

Arrows went striking through the air, peppering all around Grim but he invoked another prayer and like a needle threaded his way between the attacks. Numerous brutes leapt onto the ship, averagely brandishing their cutlasses in the boring style of buccaneers. Grim had seen it all before. A sweeping twirl of his scythe went breaking into their ranks and they immediately regretted surrounding him. With each chop it tore a little further until at last they fell to the ground with bloodied gashes mingling across tattoos.

Grim went hurling through the rain, his scythe draining red into the downpour, his eyes fixed firmly on the archers and mages. Only aware that the fury of the storm was coursing through him, Grim leapt across the ships.

And then the crushing white light. The sound of ozone and the smell of a hammer. Grim found himself in the salt water and splinters. The ocean had become one long and all encompassing rain that he dazedly held onto, hoping the world wouldn’t fall into the streaked abyss.

_____

“Grim, huh?” Lillian rubbed the parchment gently between her fingers. She took in the texture as though it were a landscape, tracing the rivers of ink as they flowed across the page. Her eyes gazed blankly into the whiteness of the night. “Grim Mortbane. It’s a fairly moody name, isn’t it?”

“We’re all impressed, Lil. So would you mind getting quiet for some shut eye?” The gruff voice sounded from the other side of the campfire. It was as chafing and dirty as sheep’s wool.

“We move as soon as the others get back which isn’t long enough for a nap.”

“It’s long enough.” The massive and craggy owner of the voice shifted, his armor grinding as if annoyed with Lillian.

“Tore.”

“Yes Lil.”

“Do you know this man? Grim?”

Tore’s defeated breath flickered across the heat of the campfire, or maybe it was the wind. “Lil, I don’t know every Elonian that’s ever lived. I’ve never been good with names anyhow.” He shifted again, his iron armor muted by the linen cloak he wore. “When we catch up to him I’ll know his type regardless.”

Lillian smiled with silken lips. “It’s your ability to read people that I find most endearing.”

“That’s the only reason you’ve never left me to rot. Like some other fellows we’ve worked with.”

She pretended not to hear him. “Do you hear that sound? It’s the call of a dusk raven. One of the last.”

“Good night Lillian.”

_____

At first Grim was only distantly aware of the dusky Greenness all around him. It was his first thought, Green. Green is Glass. Green is Glass is Grass is Growing. He felt the peace of Green all around him.

He noted the sullen dampness hiding in his robes and armor. It would take some time to dry, time he suddenly realized he didn’t have. It all came rushing back to him like a hammer on the head. There was no time.

Where was his scythe?

Where was his scythe?

Where had it gone?

It wasn’t around him, there was just debris. He remembered the white flash breaking the mast from above and angrily cursed the storm. Nothing had gone right since leaving Nundu Bay. Skales ruined half the provisions, after that Grim had begged the goddess Dwayna in prayer for a stiff breeze out of the doldrums. Corsairs were hardly a surprise and must have followed ever since the Elonian shoreline. In retrospect, everything had been leading up to that one moment in the thunderstorm.

Grim stepped lightly across the swampy ground of the jungle. Raindrops patted the tops of leaves gently and there was no telling when the storm would pick up again. No beach here, the vegetation started and stopped abruptly and the sea was broken in a large grey gash by outflowing swampwater.

A glint in one of the trees caught Grim’s eye and he snapped up to discover his scythe. It was being gripped by a huge toad-like creature. A Heket, Grim thought to himself. It was an Elonian breed, not Krytan. “Give that back and I won’t kill you,” he said slowly.

“Kill me?” croaked the Heket. “Kill li’l missy me? But I am a sweet laty!”

“A lady frog? Doesn’t matter, just give me back my scythe.”

“You ever hert of ta frog princess?” Grim could’ve sworn the Heket was batting her eyelids at him.

“Please. Give me back my scythe and go away.”

“Oh, I’m going away alreaty!” With that the Heket went bounding off through the canopy, scythe bobbing up and down in her arms.

Grim cursed and went rushing after her in the undergrowth. Every few steps a low lying branch would swat him in the face, but Grim was determined to get his scythe back. It didn’t afford him much when his foot caught on a root and he slammed into the swampy peat.

The Heket turned to taunt him and croaked with laughter. “I hert bathing in swamp water is goot for ta legs. Maybe if you stay tere and roll’t arount you’t catch me!” She made one agile leap into the brush and was gone.

As Grim pulled himself up the brooding jungle watched him and he knew he was lost in some angry place. All he could picture in his mind was his adopted son back in Elona slowly dying.

_____

Tore knew that only a handful of the mercenaries had any chance of surviving the little expedition. They were as varied and oblivious as butterflies.

“Tore, has the rest of your maggoty group gotten back yet?” That would be the ‘Captain’, he was well armed for such a simple bounty. The man’s accent was thick with anger, something that Tore had noticed among Ascalonians.

“Lillian and Adam are eating. I don’t know where Rib is, hope she’s not cannibalizing another villager.”

From behind him sounded a croaking voice. “No. Ta villagers aren’t so tasty ‘rount here. Maybe a juicy Ascalon man woult be better?”

The Captain, realizing this was Rib, grimaced in disgust. “She’s even uglier than Krytan frogmen.”

“I seen tose pretty frogmen, tey’re not so proper. Hasn’t anyone taught tem to chew teir captives one bite at a time?”

“Rib, please. Don’t provoke the Captain.”

The Heket nodded. “Only because you sait pleese.”

Tore pointed at the scythe Rib had been dragging behind her. “I hope that wasn’t a villager’s.”

“No, ta villager hat a scrawny knife. Tis is from a tervish man.”

The Captain’s eyes went wide with disbelief and anger. “You ate the bounty?”

“No, stole his scyte. I mate him run after it all ta while I yell’t ‘catch me tervish man’ and stuck my tongue at him.”

The Captain clearly wanted to be angry. “That’s cowardly. At least wound him next time.”

“But what fun is wountet prey?”

Tore nodded. “You said yourself not to hurt the man until we could kill him for sure.”

“Have you got something stuck in your throat, or were you trying to speak with that caveman intellect of yours?” The Captain turned on his heel and clearly ended the conversation. “We have our quarry,” he announced. “Get your equipment ready because we’re heading him off.” The Captain smiled to himself and Tore heard him mutter under his breath, “Without a weapon this’ll be easy.”

The camp conversations died and the people began to stir. They were like a shuffling of leaves in the wind, Tore thought to himself. Lillian would say it wasn’t necessary for all these people to survive the trip, especially when it came to splitting the money. These other mercenaries were overconfident in Mortbane’s fate, but Tore secretly knew that the dervish would put up a fight. Lillian would see to it.

_____

After plodding through the jungle for hours, Grim had finally stopped for a rest. His simple break turned into a delusional half-sleep. Still in the jungle, he discovered his adopted son lying in bed. The son’s name was Roan, a cat-like Charr cub Grim had sworn to raise. He stole Roan from the cycle of violence betwen the nation of Ascalon and the warbands of the Charr because he knew the conflict was a senseless whirlpool of fire and ash.

In his dream he could see the whirlpool and even in Elona the young Charr wasn’t safe. An assassin stole in through the window, daggers ready. Grim stared at him for a brief moment while the Ascalonian stood wide eyed at having been discovered. Grim had seen it before and he struggled to tell himself what would happen next, but he couldn’t escape the dream. The poisoned dagger went flying into Roan’s fur, and Grim, in an act that stood between rage and instinct, grabbed his scythe and slashed into the assassin’s neck.

The scene changed and Grim learned that the dagger had been coated in Ashebane, a poison that only affected Charr, a poison Ascalonians used to give their victims a slow death, a poison that was rare, a poison that served as a warning. The only rumored cure was to eat the egg of a dusk raven, otherwise the poison would infiltrate the cub and he’d die a numb, furless and blinded child. Grim awoke, looking at the jungle and wondering where he would find such a bird. He wondered whether they were beautiful.

A stomping through the swamp alerted Grim to a child marching out of the trees. He looked like a stretched youth, tall but smooth and skinny. The child wore a corsair’s outfit and wielded a spear. Grim’s muscles jumped tensely to the ready.

“Don’t worry,” said the boy, his voice almost sounded like a girl’s it was so young. “I’m not supposed to kill you yet.”

“Yet?” That was troubling.

“There’s a group of bounty hunters out for your blood. Our Captain wants you dead, and I might mention that he has your scythe.”

“So he sent that witty Heket after me?”

The boy’s face tightened in anger. “Witty? That little bitch is hardly witty.”

“I can tell you aren’t friends with her.”

“’Friend’ would be a strong word. A slimy pile of tongue would be more accurate.”

“You’ve got a lot of loathing.”

“And you’ve got empty hands and a bad sense of direction.”

“So why are you here?”

“To strike a bargain. I want you to live for now.”

“Because?”

“Some of the people in my expedition, the Captain included, need to lead shorter lives if you know what I’m saying. The idiots think they have the advantage. What matters is that you kill these people before they kill you.”

“And how do I know you aren’t double crossing me?”

The boy didn’t smile. His voice was thick in annoyance. “You don’t and you wouldn’t. But I know you understand the concept of kill or be killed.”

“So why shouldn’t I kill you?”

“You can try, but I know the odds of an unarmed dervish. I’ve killed your kind before.”

Grim indecisively looked the boy up and down. “So you’ll get my scythe back?”

“No. That’s part of the illusion. If the Captain has your scythe he’ll assume you’re unarmed.”

Frustration was on Grim’s throat. “How do I fight them then?”

“Use a sword.” The youth took a curved scimitar from its place on his belt and struck it into the ground. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and left.

At that moment a bird came fluttering low over the tangled canopy, its feathers so gray that they were almost blue. The bird’s appearance melted away all of Grim’s doubts and he forgot the sword completely. “A dusk raven,” he whispered.

_____

“It’s almost twilight,” Lillian said as Adam fell into step with her.

The youth moved in with the group, casually melding like water poured into a stream. “Don’t reprimand me, witch. I did everything you asked and all you do is complain about my timeliness.”

“Adam, sweety, I’m not reprimanding you. The Captain thinks you’re a good scout but that doesn’t fend off suspicion.”

“The Captain’s a dead man. And don’t call me ‘sweety’. I’m not anyone’s child.”

Lillian gave Adam a hurt look, one that frightened Adam into thinking she might actually see.

Tore was stepping along at his usual pace so Adam moved like quicksilver beside him. The man had always seemed like a giant, his low brow and brutal features matched by a voice that struck like a throaty hammer on an anvil. “What’re you reading?” Adam asked.

Tore turned to his companion. “How’d your scouting go, kid?”

“Like it was supposed to. What’re you reading?”

Tore was moving in a way that suggested he was bracing for impact. Adam reflected that at any moment he could trip on a root or slam into a tree with that book in his face. “I’m reading about annoying children.”

Adam grinned. “Don’t be mad Tore. I can appreciate books.”

“Illiteracy has it’s disadvantages, doesn’t it?”

“Come on, I don’t make fun of you.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Nothing you big lout.”

“That’s more like it.”

A yelling ahead of the group keyed Adam’s senses to sudden alertness, the whole world became a point and Adam balanced on the tip. “Undead!” The shout was followed by the sound of a brutal smash and a cry of pain. A force of skeletons and half rotting men came bursting through the jungle, the smell of rank fungus and decay marching behind.

“Grenth is hungry,” said Adam. “Lucky day.”

The bounty hunters crashed against the ranks of dead and the air became weighted with spells and metal. Adam stood anonymously with Lillian and Tore behind them as the walking corpses proved the mortality of their prey. Only when Rib hopped back to the three with a pair of large skeletons swinging at her tail did Adam react, twisting with such ferocity and speed that the javelin took the skeleton’s head off and pinned it to a tree.

“Adam, let them fight.” Lillian snapped.

“I was saving Rib. If you can’t see then don’t be so quick to judge.”

Tore quickly parried the second skeleton’s attack. “Help a man out Lil!”

The woman twisted her hands fluidly throught the air and Adam could almost smell the scent of butterflies as the spell manifested. A dark cloud filled the skeleton’s sockets as if a candle had died and its broad assaults went diving past Tore. With four strong chops he knocked the bones to the peat. The skeleton’s skull went chattering on blindly as though nothing had happened.

“Heh. I wish you could see this Lillian,” Adam smiled.

_____

A blue mist hung low over the graveyard punctuated by gentle rain. Grim’s feet worked briskly past the headstones and he noted the twilight that hung like a cloak over the sky. Darkness was leaking out of the shadows little by little, dampening the world with quiet repose.

One of the shadows moved past the graves towards Grim, possibly one of the living shades that haunted the swamps.

“Who’s there?” Grim called out, his voice echoing against the blankness of the fog.

“A gravedigger,” someone replied. Grim drew nearer and saw it was a very old woman holding a spade, clothing plain, her eyes filled and yet emptied by the dark mists. “You seek the raven.”

“How did you know?”

“Dwayna and Grenth whisper to me as they do to you. Through omens in the sky and sea.”

“I saw the raven flying in this direction. Do you know where its nest is?”

The gravedigger produced a small, black egg in one hand. “To my village the dusk raven embodies both Dwayna and Grenth. Just as the rain is a messenger between sky and sea, the raven is the balance of the life and death gods. Without the ravens there would be no balance.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“This egg is the last of the dusk ravens. If you take it to save your son it will doom them to oblivion.” Dark creases materialized on the gravekeeper’s face as she said this.

“But I just followed another raven to this graveyard.”

“She will lay no more eggs, she’s the last matron of her kind.”

Grim stared into the endless eyes of the gravekeeper and then at the egg. It was dark and rough, hewn from stone or filthy ice. There was no reflection in its surface. “Can my son be saved without the egg?”

“The egg is life on the cusp of itself. Only it can release him from the death god.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

The gravedigger’s lips tightened wryly at the edges. “The only certainty with Grenth is inevitability. I may not know the young Charr’s fate in the coming months, but I do know that he lives to die.”

“That isn’t true,” Grim replied hastily. “He’s living to enjoy the gods’ gift, this thing we call life.”

The gravedigger’s smile held unflinchingly to her face. “I suppose we all take something different from that gift.”

Grim continued staring at the egg. In his mind he could see the young Charr healthy again and pointing to the sky, grinning with childish teeth at his father. The sky was painted by ravens, their feathers all deep blue as though they were an ocean. “I choose life for my son.”

“Then take the egg and go quickly to him.” The orb was placed in Grim’s hand, he studied it admiring the beauty of its form. It was as though a great weight had fallen off and his heart floated lightly with the egg’s airy warmth. He placed it in the feather filled creases of his sash, soft to keep it safe.

When Grim looked up the gravedigger was gone, vanished with the retreating mist. The sky was immediate and black up above, dotted with stars. Only a light humidity rose from the graves. As Grim turned he heard the flapping of wings and saw a dusk raven approaching, the end a scythe gripped in her talons. She dropped it before Grim who expertly caught it and the weapon found its familiar home in his palms and fingers. “I’m coming, Roan.” He turned and noticed the party of bounty hunters had arrived.

_____

Rib grinned with a wide open mouth. “Attack! It’s ta tervish!” she screamed and went leaping and ribbeting towards Grim who stood ready. Most of the bounty hunters, slightly confused by the frog’s sudden zealous charge, went racing after her with their weapons raised.

As Rib neared the dervish he swung his scythe in a low and angry arc. Rib’s last leap towards him turned into a spectacular backflip, her webbed feet narrowly missing the blade. Like rubber she hit the ground and immediately leapt away from her adversary, yelling “Retreat! It’s ta tervish!”

The baffled bounty hunters only lasted the second it took for Grim to close in and swing his scythe again, carving through the crust of their armor and into their flesh. In another few seconds they were lying on the ground while the remainder who hadn’t run ahead with Rib stopped in their tracks.

Rib flashed a smile at Adam who frowned back. “Hey Atam, to men eat oter men?”

The Captain roared at the Heket. “What were you thinking you maggoty poor excuse for a creature!”

“I was tinking why to men kill oter men if tey ton’t eat‘em?”

There was definitely a smile curling the edges of Lillian’s lips. “I think I hear our bounty coming to kill us.”

_____

Grim halted in front of the few bounty hunters still alive. He reckoned that there had once been more of them, some still had freshly opened wounds from some other battle. Their numbers had thinned to five.

One of them spoke out in an Ascalonian accent. “You have your scythe.”

Grim’s hands didn’t leave his weapon, instead they gripped even more tightly. “You must be the Captain.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“To kill me so that you can kill Roan. Dying isn’t on my schedule today.”

“Filthy betrayer. Not all of your friends see as we do, Anthony and Fend seem to defend what you’ve done. But I think taking an enemy into your home was a grave mistake, something to rectify.”

“Get off your pulpit. The Charr aren’t the only ones taking lives. I couldn’t kill a child.”

“Can’t you see, Grim? They’re not women and children. They’re the same Charr who raided our homes and burnt Ascalon to the ground.”

“Roan did none of this.” Grim advanced, each stride measured by a quiet breath of wind which fluttered around him like a cloak. “I’m breaking the cycle, this ends here.”

“This does end here, maggot, and I’ll be the one to end it.” He drew a pair of daggers from his waist and stood in a stance Grim recognized from the elite fighters of Ascalon’s Vanguard.

A sudden shimmer of smoke erupted where the Captain had been and Grim felt the currents of magic moving through the air as the adversary stepped through the shadows, appearing behind the dervish’s spine. But Grim had anticipated this. Like a full moon his scythe curved through the air and caught the surprised man in the shoulder. The second swing of the scythe was interrupted by a sudden twisting attack which nearly knocked the dervish to the ground.

The Ascalonian invoked the shadows to heal his wound and protect him. As they enveloped his form, Grim prayed with words that echoed off of the skies. “Dwayna and Grenth, give me justice.” The dark mist around the Captain vanished as though burnt by a torch, leaving him exposed. The fatal blow of the scythe arrived, tearing into his heart.

The only sound left was the rustle of grave grass and the murmer of stars. Finally, with his last breath, the Ascalonian murmered “Green” and slumped onto the welcoming ground.

“Are we ready to collect our bounty, Tore?” As Mortbane looked up, he saw a woman with hazy eyes turn her head towards a hulking man.

“No,” said Tore. “There’s no bounty to split because we won’t kill this man.”

“WHAT?!?” Adam screamed. “But we came all the way-!”

“We can’t fight him. I can tell he’d even strike down the gods, such is his resolve.” Tore turned on his heel and began walking away, leaving Adam glowering after him.

Rib stared at the dervish, blinked both eyes, and then smirked. “Wanna hear a choke? It’s funny. What ta tervish say to ta Charr?”

The Heket hopped after Tore, yelling the answer back. “He sait ‘Time for a close shave!’”

Adam glared and then followed, only Lillian remained. She stared in Grim’s direction, her eyes uniformly gray in the dark. “I don’t see it,” she said and then joined the motley crew with well practiced steps.

As soon as they were gone, Grim smiled and invoked a final prayer to Dwayna and Grenth, “See me home to my son,” and like a raven went racing across the jungles and swamps.