The Crow King's Wife (The Elder Blood Chronicles #5)(91)
The guard’s face paled drastically at the words Bloody Huntsman, but to the man’s credit he managed a firm nod as Caleb released his grip on the man’s tunic. “Lord Derrick will bring the entire damn city down on your head, fool.” The guard muttered with a disgusted shake of his head. “Might bring your girl to you, but only long enough for her to watch you die.”
Shade expected Caleb to kill the man for his words, but to his amazement Caleb simply smiled and nodded. “No doubt he will try that. My daughter’s name is Syrah. Lord Derrick should know her by sight. Now be a good little bitch and to your master with my words.” With a sharp nod toward the door he took another step back from the guard and glanced toward the boy who was still sobbing quietly over his mother’s body.
“What makes you think he won’t just go straight to the guard’s barracks and summon the entire city guard here?” Shade asked softly.
“Derrick will want to deal with me personally. He isn’t fond of me at all.” Caleb said with a sigh. With a quick glance out the window he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Pain lit his face for a breath as he slowly opened his eyes and stared down at the black sword gripped tightly in his right hand. “Once I have Syrah.” Caleb whispered as he slowly pried his fingers free of his sword with his left hand. The blade clattered to the floor at his feet and Caleb took a ragged breath as he massaged his hand and glared at the sword.
Shade’s eyes moved from the sword to Caleb and then settled once more on the sword. “It’s sentient?” he asked softly. The only sentient weapons he had ever heard of were in stories that seemed too fanciful to believe, but he couldn’t explain Caleb’s behavior any other way.
Caleb nodded once and folded his arms across his chest without bothering to retrieve his sword from the floor. “Ryvenken the Keeper.” He whispered with a trace of hatred edging his words.
“The Blade of Secrets?” Shade gasped in disbelief. The sword was only mentioned in the oldest of stories, but he remembered each reference clearly. Ryvenken supposedly fed on souls and knowledge. It was written that for every warrior that had wielded the blade Ryvenken held a thousand secrets. It was also said that anyone who bonded with the blade could draw on those secrets and use whatever skills or magic it held.
“None other.” Caleb agreed in a dull voice. He glanced out the window again and then looked to the boy. For just a moment a flicker of remorse crossed his features then he was looking out the window once more.
“How long have you been bonded with it?” Shade asked quietly. Everything was falling into place now; If Caleb had been bonded with Ryvenken for years than the sword likely had a very firm hold on his mind. Artifacts as old as that sword were dangerous and it took a very strong mage to maintain control over such things. Caleb had said himself that he wasn’t strong in arcane power. The cold murder he had witnessed earlier as well as the Blight’s fear of Caleb could be explained away easily if the sword were the dominate of the two. Sentient weapons were not renowned in stories for their honor or compassion.
“Four years aside from my stay in the Blight prison. Ryvenken and I were sadly not on speaking terms at that point. I wanted to save Arovan, Ryvenken wanted it to burn.” Caleb said calmly and shrugged once. He smiled faintly and turned away from the window. “Return Syrah to Jala or Valor. They will see that she is taken to my family in Arovan.” The words held an undeniable farewell to them, but there was no trace of concern in his voice. Caleb fully planned to face the entire military force of Prendington alone and didn’t even have a bead of sweat on his face at the thought.
Swallowing heavily Shade watched as Caleb reclaimed his sword and moved toward the boy. Wisps of Shadow rose from him as the illusion faded from his skin and clothes. The dull grey of the chainmail turned to polished black and Shade stared hard at the outline of skulls engraved across the chest. Nestled in the center of it all emblazoned in polished silver was the symbol for the Divine of fear. Shade was likely considered a heathen by most religious orders, but even he knew what the skulls on the armor represented. For a follower of Fear each skull was a symbol of a conquered fear, and by the number of skulls on Caleb’s armor he had to be a fully anointed priest.
“So Zoey was wrong about the druidic path I see.” Shade mumbled as he met Caleb’s gaze. The man’s features had sharpened beyond what Shade was accustomed to with high cheek bones and canted eyes that seemed more catlike than human. Small black runes dotted the pale flesh across his cheekbones and seemed to writhe just under the skin when Shade tried to examine them closer. The man before him had the same white-tipped grey hair and pale grey eyes of Caleb Faulklin, but overall he was as different from what Shade knew of his friend as the previous illusion had been. This man seemed beyond Elder Blood. He looked like more like one of the Divine.
The thunder of hoof beats was rising outside. Derrick was here and Shade knew they didn’t have much time left to talk. Caleb glanced once toward the door and then smiled at Shade. “When you describe yourself do you simply use the word Pilot or are there other details about you that should be mentioned as well?” Caleb asked and even his voice seemed to have changed. It was still low and even but it held a bit of music to it such as Shade had come to expect from the Fae.
“Many more, but I somehow doubt I hold as many cards as you do my friend.” Shade whispered trying to keep the awe from his voice. “Is this another illusion Caleb?” he asked as he watched Caleb lift the sobbing boy gently from his mother’s corpse. Part of him was praying it was illusion and that Caleb had just chosen it to unnerve Derrick. The other part was silently hoping the man really did have Divine blood, maybe then he would have a chance of surviving.