Before the Crow Read online

  “I ain’t dying like this,” he croaked, “not like this…not like this!” and with a desperate tug, the latch broke loose, and slid free. He felt the pressure fall on his foot, even as he pushed on the back door of the cage. The pain didn’t register right away. Not until he pulled himself into the opening, and tugged on his foot.

  He looked back and almost lost control of his bowels. The drakin had shoved its head and neck into the cage, and his foot, which was now throbbing horribly, was clamped between its jaws.

  “No!” Wraithman kicked at the creature’s head with his free foot.

  The drakin opened its jaws, and clamped back down, working to gain a better grip. He felt every needle-sharp tooth pierce his boot, sinking through skin, muscle, and finally to bone.

  “Ahhhh!” he screamed, convulsing from the pain, and almost let go of the cage behind him. With cold determination, the drakin reached up and hooked its claws around the cage door. He sobbed pathetically as the creature started to pry it apart, all the while working to slide its shoulders in.

  Wraithman had spent his life tracking, trapping, and hunting the creatures. He had never considered that he, of all people, would fall victim to one of them. Then again, he had never seen one this large before.

  The drakin shifted, turning its body as it snaked one clawed arm into the cage. It shifted back, and started to slide the rest of the way in, when it loosened its grip.

  Wraithman felt the pressure ease up on his foot, and instinctually, he pulled. His boot came free as he fell backwards, his weight tilting the door open just enough. He hit the ground, flat on his back, just as the drakin slid into the cage. He kicked the cage door as hard as he could, slamming it shut. He lurched forward.

  The dark form hit the cage door a heartbeat after he slid the latch home. He barely registered the contact. He only knew that his chest hurt, and that there was something very hard and cold now beneath him. Stars swam in his vision, but quickly cleared, and he realized that he was sitting down.

  His hand flopped up onto his chest, where his clothes had been ripped clean through. The coppery smell of blood filled his nose as he pressed down upon the deep claw marks. Moonlight spilled into the small cave, breaking through the barred cage and shifted, just as the black form inside moved. A claw struck out between the bars, directly at him. It landed in the ground between his legs, the long retractable talons rending the dirt like a farmer’s implement.

  Wraithman shoved himself back, cramming his body against the unyielding wall of the cave, desperate to put as much distance between them as he could. The drakin leaned forward again, the glossy black scales glistening in the moonlight. He felt the claws brush against the tip of his nose as they waved in the air just before his face.

  The drakin pulled back into the cage. For a long moment, a cloud passed before the moon, and all was dark and quiet. Wraithman watched, afraid to draw breath, but unable to deny the urge at the same time. Painful heartbeats passed, and then the cloud passed. The cool moonlight filtered back in, only this time, the cage was not the same empty dark space. Two radiant eyes shone in the darkness, watching, measuring him.

  Wraithman flinched when he heard the noise just outside. Sigmere appeared from around the corner, running as best he could in the heavy furs, and threw his body into the open door to the cage. The drakin hissed and thrashed against the heavy iron bars, but it was too late. The door was latched.

  Wraithman pushed himself along with his hands, sliding with his back against the wall. He inched around the cage, all the while keeping as much distance as he could between himself and the beast inside. Sigmere stood in the small clearing, his fur hat and thick scarf dragging against the ground. He scratched at his scraggly beard as Wraithman limped closer, his eyes never once leaving the dark cage and its imposing occupant.

  Wraithman took a deep breath, and pulled a hand away from his chest. The blood was dark in the bluish light, but had already started to dry. He looked up at his counterpart, but before he could speak, the smaller man interjected.

  “I want double!”

  “Double? You ran away. Beast comes at me, and you disappear” Wraithman shot back angrily.

  “Nah. I were hiding. It was coming after you. I saw you crawl into the cage. Cage is too big to latch both doors in time, so I hid, and trapped the beast. See. Double,” Sigmere said.

  Wraithman chuckled nervously, and nodded, pulling his shredded shirt closed.

  Chapter 1

  Two doors

  The room smelled of festive herbs, roasting meat, and mulled cider. In essence, every aroma that reminded him of home. Henri couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to their cabin, to happy times, when his family was intact.

  “Father…”

  He felt the warmth of the hearth, and the beeswax candles his wife made every season. A harsh wind buffeted the house outside, but it wasn’t ominous. Not for him. He could almost feel the snow stacking up on the roof and trees. The cold, festive seasons were always his favorite.

  “Father!”

  Henri shook his head and almost fell off of the bench. “Uh, oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I was thinking about home.”

  Hunter looked at him, a combination of amusement and concern wrinkling his freckled cheeks. He lifted his goblet and sipped before speaking.

  “It’s this place. I don’t know how, but it makes you think about those things you care most for, or miss the most. I don’t know, but it is something like that,” Hunter said.

  Henri couldn’t help but stare at his eldest son, to bask in his presence. Before Henri left on his journey, he had convinced himself that he would never see Hunter again.

  “I can’t bear the thought of what happened to you. It pains me. I never should have let you leave the house. I never should have let you go with Roger and Damon.”

  An old man sat at a bench just behind them, but his back was to Henri, and he seemed too preoccupied with his meal.

  “Stop, Father. That doesn’t matter now. It is like I told you, that is all in the past. The only thing that matters now is what lies before us,” Hunter said.

  Henri sat back. “If only you could hear yourself. Since when did you start sounding so much like your old man?”

  “Yeah, well…some things will change you,” Hunter said.

  Henri nodded. His thoughts flashed back to the wretched pit in Dedpit Barrows, and the bird…or, was it a woman, he thought, tilting forward in his chair and looking toward the door in the back of the massive hall.

  “You said this place is a wayward hall?” Henri asked, his brow wrinkling.

  “A Wayhall. Or that is what Herja called it, a waypoint for chosen souls to travel between one life and the next,” Hunter said, pushing his plate away from him.

  “And you don’t know why your brother and sister aren’t here?” Henri asked.

  Hunter shook his head solemnly. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, before taking a deep breath. “Time moves differently here, and you see, I wasn’t supposed to be here when you arrived. Herja told me that my door is set, and it is time for me to move on. I knew that I needed to move on, to open the door and embrace whatever lies ahead, but part of me denied it. I could feel it, deep inside. I can’t explain it, but I could feel you coming. I only had to wait. I guess I just needed to see a friendly face, one last time.”

  “I missed you so much. I wouldn’t listen to everyone when they told me you were gone. I searched, until it drove me…” Henri said, remembering the madness.

  “I couldn’t move on before, but I think…I think now I can.” Hunter folded one hand on top of the other as he spoke.

  Henri was struck by how very grown up he looked. It made him want to cry. “Move on to what? You’re my son. You belong with me, just like Luca, and Eisa. We’re a family, and we should stay together!”

  “We will be together, someday. Just like when I was little. Grams baking in the kitchen and Pa whittling by the fire, while you told stories or
Ma sang. Maybe Luca and Eisa will be there, hopefully not right away. But in time,” Hunter said wistfully.

  “You sound so wise, so grown up. I hope you are right, I really do. But I can’t help but doubt. I need to see where my path will lead me, and know, as a father must, that his children will be there,” Henri said.

  “Herja told me each person’s door will open only for them, and that it is up to us to find the correct one. Only we can walk the path that it leads to,” Hunter said, shaking his head before leaning in. “She did tell me that we cannot change the path, but it is our actions in life that determine where the path leads us. I think she told me more than she is supposed to. She said the doors are our own, of our making, but not lasting. The pathways will close, and if we linger, we fade. I can already feel it. Like I am less than I was when I first arrived here.”

  Henri listened, his mind spinning out of control. And then something Hunter said struck him.

  “Fade,” he whispered, thinking of the strange river outside the great hall, and the ghostly figures drifting along with the current.

  “No,” he shook his head, adamantly. “I won’t be going anywhere until I find out what has happened to your brother and sister. I can’t…no, I refuse to move on until I know that they are safe and sound,” Henri said defiantly.

  Hunter leaned forward before sliding off the bench. “I’m afraid I can delay no longer. I feel the door pulling at me, draining me of my resolve. I feel weak…my thoughts scattered, like I am splitting between two places at the same time. I must go.”

  “No, wait!” Henri spat, springing from his seat to grasp Hunter by the forearm. “Not yet…wait, please, until I…well let me speak to them first. I need to know before I can say goodbye to you again. We’ve only just met up, and I can’t say goodbye again. Not yet.”

  Hunter considered Henri for a moment and then nodded, before sliding back down into his seat. “Be careful, Father. We are guests in a strange and amazing place. I don’t think we want to find out what would happen if we angered our hosts.”

  “Rest easy, Son, just for a little while. I didn’t survive season upon season of haggling, overbearing, and complaining buyers at Marble Meadows for no reason.”

  Henri gave his son a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and turned. It took every ounce of resolve in his body to walk away from the table. He wanted to sit by his son, and never let him go again, no matter what it took. But a horrible and nagging doubt lingered inside him. He had to find out what his future held, and more importantly, how his other children factored into the mix.

  The old man pushed away from the table behind them, gently laying his embroidered napkin down over his emptied plate. He turned quietly, taking note of Henri, and started walking back down the tables.

  The man was old, his face heavily wrinkled and his hair a bleached and stringy mop. Yet he didn’t frown. Instead, his face was graced by a most pleasant and untroubled smile.

  The man approached. He was two dozen paces away, and then a dozen. He seemed to change with every step forward. His skin seemed to smooth, and his hair darken. By the time he passed Henri, moving in the opposite direction, he looked many seasons younger. He nodded at Henri and passed in silence.

  Turning on the spot, Henri watched the man walk towards the back of the colossal chamber, and the seemingly endless hall of doors. It was as it had been since his arrival. People would arrive, one at a time, sometimes in pairs. They would linger for a short time, eating and sharing in their host’s strange, but intoxicating drinks, and then each in turn would make the solitary walk down the hall. It terrified Henri.

  He shook his head and tried not to think of Hunter, and the longing in his eldest son’s eyes. He wanted him to find peace, but he couldn’t bear the thought of that peace not including him in it.

  To be alone…Henri thought, banishing the idea of being alone once again. Hunter will move on, we will move on together.

  The thick, grainy planks felt impossibly hard beneath his feet as he plodded towards the end of the chamber, and the solitary door perched beside the glowing hearth.

  He walked before the fire, pulling his gaze to his feet. The fire, it had an unsettling knack of grabbing one’s gaze, and not letting go. He felt it across the room, so very much like the river of souls outside, but different. Now that he was close he could hear the flames crackling eerily. It sounded like whispers, tickling his ears as they slipped lovingly into his head.

  Henri jogged past the fire, pressing his hands over his ears as he went. He stopped just before the door, his fingers hovering just above the handle. It was the only door in the entirety of the building, besides those located in the hall far behind him. Yet he had never seen anyone normal enter or leave through it.

  Clearing his throat, and taking a deep breath, Henri grasped the smooth handle. The mechanism turned smoothly and clicked. The door eased open on its own, a gust of stale, old smelling air drifting over him.

  Henri stepped into a room that was a world apart from the massive dining hall. It wasn’t bright, nor was it warm. Cool moonlight filtered in from windows set a half dozen stories above him, leaving most of the chamber in heavy shadows. There air was cool and damp, and smelled old.

  Gigantic cobwebs hung between the columns, adorning the strange space like wispy garland. The stone walls and archways were streaked with what looked like the droppings of enormous birds.

  “H…hello?” Henri stammered, struggling to fill the massive, dark space with his voice.

  Something rustled above him, moving and scraping against the stone. Henri stepped off to the side and peered into the darkness, willing his eyes to pierce the thick veil of shadow.

  “I need to speak with someone…hello?” Henri called out, gaining a small amount of confidence as he trod deeper into the space.

  “Speak, if you are able.” The voice drifted down out of the darkness, vibrating off the stone all around him.

  Henri spun, startled by the voice. He gazed all around, trying to identify where it came from, but the shadows seemed to grow deeper and more mysterious.

  “I wanted to know…well, I have questions about my…” Henri said, but stopped mid-sentence as a cold draft flowed over his neck. “I don’t mean to be rude, but might I see you? I would feel a bit more comfortable if we could speak, face to face.”

  “A voice speaks. Eyes see. One need not the other,” the voice echoed in response.

  Henri mumbled for a moment, his eyes darting up the massive columns, searching each dark shadow. “I need to know where my son, Hunter, will go.”

  “Every soul’s door is their own, their path, their own.” The voice responded, this time echoing from a different shadow overhead.

  “But he is my son, my flesh and blood. My other children are out there somewhere, Mani knows where. I need to know they’re safe, all of them. I can’t stand to be separated from any of them again.”

  “Your place is to walk the path, not to question it, or your son’s. His plans are beyond your understanding and grasp.”

  “If I could speak to him, even just for a moment, then I could explain…” Henri said, but something rustled directly overhead, sending dust and cobwebs raining down upon his head.

  “You suppose to assume that you can explain anything that J’ohaven doesn’t already know,” the voice replied, moving between shadows.

  “Well, no, I would never. I mean, I think a father should take every opportunity to fight for his little ones. I’d do anything to protect them from harm, and safeguard them.”

  Henri spun as rocks rattled down behind him. He heard something drop overhead, and the rush of wind. He turned back in time to see an enormous feather-covered creature hit the ground. The sudden rush of hair blew dust and cobwebs into his face, forcing him back several steps.

  The massive bird, its feathers glimmering even in the dim chamber, stretched its wings out wide, and with a strange keen started to change. Wings contracted, giving way to smooth flesh and glossy armo
r. The large, hooked beak and glossy eyes shrunk, until the bird was no longer a bird, but a tall, beautiful woman.

  She was easily a foot taller than him, and wider in the shoulders. Her hair was the color of autumn leaves, and framed her face in several gold-ringed braids.

  Henri’s knees shook and he struggled to hold his bulk off of the ground. Part of him knew that he should cower. But another part of him, deep inside, knew he had to stay strong, for his children.

  He met her gaze, her eyes radiating strength beyond his understanding. They were deep, like vibrant ice crystals.

  “You would do anything? To protect your wife, children, and their future children?” the woman asked, her voice husky and strong.

  Henri nodded, his words utterly failing him.

  “That, Henri, is why I chose you.”

  * * * *

  The shadow over his bed was dark…darker than Luca was comfortable with. He didn’t know why, but there was something about the darkness that bothered him. He closed his eyes tight, guarding himself from the sting of the sunshine streaming in through the window across the room. He willed away the relentless ache that seemed to radiate all throughout his head, but like usual, it did not help.

  A gust of wind buffeted the building, catching one of the wooden shutters and bouncing it against the plank siding with a thud. Luca rolled over, moving with all of the elegance of a rheumatic old man.

  A gull cried out, its hungry plea splitting the gentle and medicinal lapping of the distant water. He heard the bird’s wings as it bounced against the window once and then again as it tried to fly through. The noise only made the pain in his head worse. With a grunt he pulled his pillow over his head, at the moment it was his one defense against the flashing lights and piercing noises that haunted every moment of his waking life.