A Touch of Darkness Read online

  Ascara didn’t like the sound of that.

  Lucinda shivered. “Something is happening.”

  “Like what? Where’s Magda?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucinda answered.

  “Right, what do we do about this?”

  “I’m not sure,” Lucinda answered.

  “You must know, you are the Raven.”

  “I—” she started and then her words faltered.

  “Raven,” Ascara interrupted. She could feel the darkness gathering and rising through Lucinda.

  “The Raven comes,” Lucinda said. “Help me into the sedyan, Ascara. Quick.”

  “What do you need?”

  Lucinda closed the curtains, “Go and get Magda,” she ordered. “When the Raven comes, I’m not sure what it will mean, not here.”

  “Are you—”

  “Go!” Lucinda said, her voice hoarse and forceful. “Get Magda. Now.”

  Ascara turned and ran.

  Lucinda paid no more attention to Ascara as she raced off. She didn’t have the time to worry about anyone else. Her vision wavered, grew dark, and then her sight shifted. Her raven, and the necropolis, needed to speak to her; she would hear the truth of it.

  She gripped the arms of the seat as her muscles clenched and her whole body strained against the tightness of the corset binding her. Bones tried to bend in ways not intended and almost snapped. Her back flexed and arched as the raven rose and roared through her. This wasn’t a gentle rising of her power; the dark raven ripped through her as though she didn’t exist. Her raven spirit burst from the fragile shell of her body whether she willed it or not, and Lucinda, the Raven, rose out of her body and through the top of the sedyan, until she reached the freedom of the sky and spread her wings.

  This was not her sky, though.

  The Raven stared at the world below with eyes sharp and bright with curiosity. Holy Mount looked different. The mountains towered above the rocks and sea, and although Lucinda recognised this land as the lands of Port Ruth, it was not the Port Ruth she knew. This was as it had been, long ago. The mountains were also intact, and she could no longer see the hollowed out centre. Yet inside, the mountain pulsed with life. Human life, and she dismissed these humans to seek her truth elsewhere.

  Around the mountain tower the sea churned, and waves almost as tall as the mountains crashed against the sides of the rock. The sea drew back until nothing but sand remained and then hurtled back to land with power enough to flatten lesser mountains. Loud booms filled the air with the despair of a land that fought back. This was a storm that brought with it destruction and the earth tore itself apart.

  She looked up, and in the distance, mountains exploded and spewed fire and rocks into the air. Clouds grew so thick with ash they cut out the light and turned day into night. Winds ravaged the sky and the surface of the lands with strength fierce enough to strip the skin from bone.

  Higher she flew, and beneath her, the ground wavered and shifted. Rocks crashed together, became mountains and then flattened. Flames tore the world apart and burned to ash any who stood in the way. The rage of the earth would not be stilled. Only those with the blessings of their God could survive this destruction; this was The Fall for her to see.

  Two birds with wings held wide flew across the fiery sky. They swooped and soared on every changing air current. A pair of ravens with wingtips glowing red, or bright blue.

  When they joined her, they became a family of three. They were raven, fire, and ice as they soared across the sky. Darkness, thick like oil but light as smoke, surged out of the middle peak and speared the two birds. Something took her family!

  A couple of feathers floated to the ground, but they were gone.

  Dead and lost.

  Sorrow washed through her.

  Would the raven permit the destruction of her family like this?

  How dare they threaten them. Her grief turned to Ice. Rage rose up and infused her sorrow with Fire. Her Raven would not sit back and leave them to the machinations of this tower and its priests. She would have revenge for a deed not yet done and her revenge, like rage but made dark and pointed, powered through every part of her soul.

  Lucinda the Raven swooped into the mountain, and the world blurred. The past, the present, and the future merged into one. She shot straight through the stone and the layers of metal and machinery.

  Machinery?

  This stopped her flight and her anger. What did this machinery mean? There were no machines in the tower of the dead.

  Not any more, she realised. These were the machines of the past. Life. Living machines.

  She heard singing. People sang to the glory of these machines. They thanked the Father for his blessing in songs that sounded like prayers. Like the funeral prayers. The intonation of the words seemed familiar, and the power raised by them also seemed the same.

  A flash of light caught her attention and drew her to an altar, where a man knelt before a knife-wielding priest. “Give me your blood, your life, and your soul,” the priest said.

  “It is yours,” the man on his knees replied.

  “Your blood, your life, and the fire of your spirit are ours until the end of time. Be with us in eternity, and when the hour is true, the gates of time will open and you will be set free.”

  “Free,” intoned the man along with the masses within the mountain.

  “And it will be as though the Mother never awakened to darken this earth with her perversions. The true God will awaken from the slumber of the dead and put our plight right.” The priest stepped forwards and slipped a blade into the prisoner’s throat. “Bless him for he will come.”

  A familiar prayer followed the priest’s words. They sang all together as one voice, and they drew power into the Last Rites, but this time, the prayer was for an eternity in which the machines which would keep them safe.

  The Raven screamed at this misuse, and her own dark rage tore her from this vision and into dark oblivion.

  A loud boom, like the sound of those long-ago waves, crashed against the mountain. She could hear someone calling for her.

  “Lucinda,” Ascara yelled. She sounded upset and she shook Lucinda twice. “Wake up!”

  Lucinda opened her eyes, but she couldn’t focus, and the screams of the lost still filled her ears. “What’s the matter?” she asked with a voice made hoarse from the taste of ash and fire in her throat. “Where am—”

  “Lucinda, look at me,” Ascara interrupted. “We’re in trouble.”

  She tried to focus on Ascara, but the strength of her vision had left her disorientated and weak. She didn’t really care either, grief filled her heart. All she could think about was the birds. They were three, and they were complete. Then they weren’t. The darkness rose from the depths of her soul and her perception shifted. She could sense the Ice of her sorrow merged with the Fire of her rage, and she held them close, nursed this pain in her soul. Retribution would—

  Ascara interrupted her thoughts and screamed. “Lucinda!”

  The mundane world grated at her senses until she had to pay attention. Sounds she did not want to hear imposed themselves: running feet, the snick of blades as they were drawn. Oppressive heat filled her nose and mouth until she felt stifled by it. The light breeze had vanished, and the sun overhead made the hollowed-out mountain of the necropolis Tower burn with the power of sunlight.

  “Please, Lucinda, I need you with me now.”

  Lucinda held up her hand. “A moment.”

  “Lucinda, I’m not sure we have a spare moment.”

  “Yes, we do,” Lucinda answered.

  “Good, but I’m still going to need you. I’m outnumbered at least by, oh, a couple of hundred to one. I’m good, but I reckon I might have a few issues dealing with them all on my own.”

  “Where is Magda?” Lucinda asked.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t get to her before they turned me away.”

  Lucinda looked around. “They’re waiting for something.”

  “Like what?” Ascara asked.

  Lucinda didn’t answer. She scanned the faces of the robed men who surrounded them. They did not approach further, and she realised they would not come closer. Yet.

  Lucinda rose out of the litter and stretched. She did not rush, nor did she show any signs of concern or worry.

  “Lucinda,” Ascara urged.

  She smiled and reached out to pat Ascara’s arm. “It will be all right,” she said. “Trust me. I am with you now.”

  Death lay all around them, she could taste the power of it. Even though she had no right to the energy or the magic, she would use whatever she could. After all, in a tower to the dead, who better to use the energy than the harbinger of death herself? Seemed reasonable to her, and as she accepted this, the fatigue of her Truth Seeing seemed to lessen. Muscles which had been tired and lifeless filled with energy. Her thoughts, once dull and sluggish, now moved at speed. Memories and knowledge seemed to come to her with ease, and most of all, her energy seemed not only replenished, she almost overflowed with it.

  Ascara nodded her acceptance of Lucinda’s words and turned to place herself as a shield in front of the priests.

  A voice Lucinda recognised called over the crowd. “Raven.” As he spoke, the priests pulled back and a path stretched out to where the head priest stood with Mogharan. Between them stood Magda, her hands restrained by two guards whilst two others pointed their pistols at her.

  Ascara stiffened, and she drew a dagger to match her sword.

  “No,” Lucinda said. She tapped Ascara on the shoulder. “Stand down. Weapons will not win this day.”

  “As you wish,” Ascara said. She let the points of her weapons drop, although she did not disarm.

  “You called, Mogharan? Is Magda all right?”

  The small group approached, close enough that she could see Magda’s uniform had been messed up. A trickle of blood oozed from the side of her mouth and her nose. A scrape down the side of her face marked where she had been hit or punched. Most of all, Magda looked disconsolate.

  “There you are, Raven. Did you like the sounds of my prayers?”

  “Yes, Prince Ruth, I heard the prayers,” Lucinda answered.

  “Not that I care about your opinion, of course. I have many issues with you. In fact, I have issues with all of you.”

  “I’m sure you do, but of course it won’t do you any good,” Lucinda replied.

  “Goddamn you, woman, show me some respect. Still, you defy me.”

  “Respect is earned, and you have earned nothing.” She smiled, because no matter his words, he had no idea about the powers he used. The truth of this entire Tower had been lost, and although he wished to use the power for himself, he couldn’t control this at all.

  “Then you will fear me instead. First, I will deal with this one. It is time she suffers for what she has done to me.” He turned to Magda. “Kneel.”

  Even restrained, Magda straightened her shoulders in defiance. She rolled something inside her mouth and then spat a bloody lump at his feet. Mogharan stared at the lump on the ground and then gestured to the two guards with the pistols. They holstered their weapons and punched Magda so hard in the ribs, Lucinda thought her own ribs had broken in empathy.

  Magda folded over, only the two guards holding her hands stopped her from falling. One of the guards kicked the back of Magda’s legs and she fell to her knees. The other kicked her in the side for good measure.

  Ascara started to move and Lucinda had to grip her arm to stop her racing to Magda’s aid.

  “Well now, let’s start with this one, shall we?” He pointed at Magda. “This is Captain Stoner of the airship Verity, who was also commander of my security. You are stripped of rank,” Mogharan said. He stepped forwards and ripped the braid from the shoulders of her uniform. “We find you guilty of insubordination, treason, and blasphemy. For your crimes, there can be only one penalty. Death.”

  Magda didn’t speak, but she looked up and stared at him with cold eyes.

  “No,” Ascara said.

  “Shut your filthy mouth,” he bellowed. “I own her, and I can do what I wish with her,” he said. He straightened his jacket and took several deep breaths. “Not that I need to explain myself to you.”

  “You do not own her,” Lucinda said.

  “Well now, I do, you see. The moment this one agreed to put on this uniform, she became mine.” He pointed at her. “This one thought that she was man enough to be a commander. But she isn’t, is she? And, as she has said she owns you two as well, I now also own you. I find this arrangement most satisfactory.”

  “No,” Lucinda said.

  “No? This is the law. My law and I can do as I please. And I have many pleasant thoughts about this matter. I could sell you into slavery, or use you for bargaining. Would the Order pay much for you all? My Raven with her baby ravens?”

  Lucinda stepped back. Three Ravens. Images exploded inside her mind and she reeled with the force and impact of them.

  “Either would be acceptable. And as I no longer have to ask your Commander Morales to make machines for me anymore, the pleasure is all the greater. Maybe I no longer need him if I have you. No matter.”

  “Machines, Mogharan? What machines?” Lucinda asked.

  “Never you mind.”

  “Why did you need him to make machines?” Lucinda persisted.

  “Why on God’s earth do I need to answer to you?”

  “Because you are in charge, and it would be impressive to show us what you are capable of.”

  He nodded at that. “Perhaps. Still, he has failed so far, but you have found what we need, and as you are mine, the machine is also mine.”

  “What have we found?” Lucinda asked. She already knew the answer, but for the moment, she needed him to talk a little longer. In this she would know his plans, and most important of all, her control of this tower could grow stronger.

  “The Astrarium, of course,” he answered.

  “It is broken and of no use,” she said.

  Mogharan laughed. “I live where the finest watchmakers and clockmakers can be found. Do you not think we can work it out?”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  He waved her questions off. “Stop asking so many silly questions. I am about to reclaim what is mine.”

  Lucinda could hear the glee in his voice. He wanted to gloat. Here it comes, she thought.

  He pointed to Magda. “She was mine, as much like a brother as anyone, but she took my sister and caused her death. She will pay.” He pointed to her. “You took my Hours away, and for this, you will pay.

  “We brought your sister back,” Lucinda said.

  “Ahh yes, you brought back skin and bones, and you brought her back empty. You took her soul, didn’t you, witch?” He didn’t wait for Lucinda to answer. “You recognise what this place is, don’t you, Raven?” He waved his hands around.

  Lucinda nodded.

  Magda coughed to clear her throat and her mouth. “You planned all of this,” Magda said. Each word punctuated with a swallow.

  “Yes. This place has a long history, and I will continue it. A bargain has been made and it will be met. We will fix the Astrarium and place it here, where it is intended to be.” He pointed at Lucinda. “And you, my Raven, will take the place of my sister.”

  “That wasn’t your sister. That was the beast, Sh’Na,” Magda said.

  “I know that, you idiot,” Mogharan said. “But she was supposed to kill you first.”

  “Why were you expecting her to kill Magda?” Lucinda asked.

  “Never mind. I have you, and your soul will be given to this tower, and the bargains of the past will be fulfilled. I will get what I need from Magda when you have become my tool.”

  Lucinda laughed. From the look on Mogharan’s face, he did not expect humour. “Once more you make of yourself a fool,” she said.

  “How so? I cannot see the Hours, and so you have none of their power.”

  “You think I need them?”

  “Yes,” he answered. He didn’t sound so sure though.

  “Let me show you what I need.” Her raven rose as she spoke, and so much power filled her, it sizzled along her skin.

  “I see you, with your devil’s eyes, but I am not afraid of you. This is my domain.”

  “Fool,” she called out. Her words echoed through the rock, and no one could miss her words. Even if they didn’t speak Anglish, they would recognise the power in her voice. Lucinda turned around full circle so that the nearby priests would see her eyes. “Do you know the Raven? Do you understand what I am?”

  None of the priests answered, but several took a step back, and when one stepped back, all those nearby stepped backwards. “Well, do you?”

  “You are nothing here,” Mogharan said. “Take her,” he ordered.

  Lucinda laughed, she was ready. “Stop,” she said. She held up her hands, as though to ward them all off. The undead of the Necropolis filled her with such power she could see her skin glow with it. And the power was all hers.

  “Stop. Kneel before me, or feel my wrath!”

  Mogharan laughed. “Stupid woman.”

  “No, you are the stupid one. You have tied the dead to this place, locked their souls into the stone so they could not leave. Now you have awoken them with your prayers of power and they are angry. Very angry. Now, you cannot control them because they are all mine.”

  “Nonsense,” Mogharan replied.

  “Come to me!” Lucinda screamed. “Come, my long-dead friends.” The raven inside her spread her wings and called out to the dead who had no place in this life. These long-dead souls had no place here, and they would be hers to take to their final place, but first, she would set them free.

  “Grab her!” Mogharan ordered.

  No one moved. Whether they were scared of her, or whether they were scared of Ascara with her blades in hand, it didn’t matter. Lucinda didn’t care if they tried to grab her. None of it mattered. They were too late. Too slow.

  “They are coming,” she whispered. Even though she didn’t speak with any great volume, her voice seemed to swell and fill every space. Streaks of black left the tombs and swept around the cliff walls in a raging rush. An eruption of shades and shadows rose and stormed inside the mountain. The temperature plummeted as they brought with them the icy touch of death. The screams of those who endured the pain and agony of death made eternal echoed from the walls.