Chapter 85: QUENCHED IN TEARS

Through the clear liquid, the Tears of the Under Risens could see the ravaged skin of his hands. He had succeeded in the task he’d been assigned. The Raven Talons had been heated, burning hot enough to melt the solid block. He should have felt a measure of success at the feat.

Currently it was nothing but an immoveable doubt weighing on him. At what cost had it been accomplished?

The water had quenched a surprising amount of the pain though it was still agonizing. Judging by the vision he saw through the clear water, he feared that the lingering pain and limitations of the damage would cost him a considerable about of movement moving forward. Perhaps the dutiful ministrations of Tawny would be of some assistance. An assassin, a soldier, or whatever he was to be would be nothing without the use of his hands.

Steeling himself for the repercussions, peered into the depths of the water, looking past the wreckage of his hands. The vessel he buried the blades in was shallow. He had stabbed straight down into and through the ice, the weapons extending well beyond the depth of the bowl. A faint, deep blue glow emanated from somewhere in the liquid, silhouetting the full length of the weapons in the impossibly deep space beneath the surface.

The peculiarities only grew from there.

Risens feared the worse as he slowly extracted his hands and the Talons from the water. The moment the charred skin pulled from the Tears of the Under, the cracked, peeling and bubbling damaged peeled off. The crude sheet evaporated in the liquid as his hand pulled free. Much like how the vile, black blood of the Carrion disappeared in the pool, so too did the remnants of the damage as if flaked off.

It was clean skin, free of burns and scars that pulled free from the water. The pain to disappeared as his hands dried rapidly in the air. Joyous anticipation swelled alongside the insatiable bloodlust at the Raven Talons exited from the pool. 

Running down the center of the weapons a thin strip glowed a faint blue. At the end of the pommel a small dot, where the feathered wrap left exposed metal matched the same color.

“The process has been completed and the blades are whole once more. You have done well, fledgling,” Mother Raven announced, breaking his focus on the subtle changes to the blades. There was a peculiar air of power that emanated from them, one that he hadn’t noted, even in their vocal, unfiltered assessment of his skills, or lack thereof. “Your wings have grown stronger, yet still have far to go before you can fly.”

Risens felt the sting of her words knife through him as she continued to provide her assessment that he was no ready. He wondered is there would ever come a time when he was strong enough, skilled enough, competent enough to earn her approval. He’d gained powers far beyond any he could have imagined in the most vivid of dreams, yet he was still lacking. Her continual degradation reminded his of the perpetual insults and disregard he’d faced from Fendri since his earliest of memories.

Frustration was definite but thankfully, he felt no ill will toward his unexpected guide. He wanted nothing more than to bury his blades in the King’s stewards heart, to cease the incessant prattle that bubbled from the obstinate man’s mouth. Mother Raven didn’t face the similar deadly inclinations. Beyond harsh, yet honest words and aggravating, cryptic instructions, she done shown no ill will. The simple fact that he knew she could kill him at any point was a potent motivator to stay ones blades.

He had no doubt that the voice that commanded his obedience would be displeased.

That was something he feared with every fiber of his being.

Averting his focus back to the blades, he worked to temper the look of frustration that threatened to cross his face as he inspected the blades. Beyond the subtle glow and the intangible feelings, there were no physical alterations to the weapons, though the change was obvious.

“Your vision has improved it seems,” she cackled from where she stood on the other side of the pedestal. “That you are aware of the changes to the Talons is clear. Tell me what do you see, fledgling?”

“It’s more of what I feel than what I see. There is only a faint, deep blue glow along the blade and handle, yet I can feel the strength that I cannot define,” Risens answered honestly.

“It is as it should be,” she continued. “The Raven Talons have been awakened from their slumber. As has a part of you. The heat and the Tears of the Under will only enhance the blades with their master’s willing participation. It seems you are up to the challenge. It will be the first of many to come.”

Risens had no concept what he’d done. He had borne the pain of the flames, dragged his body and the blades to the Tears, yet he’d cast no spell, issued no orders. Was it merely the reckless willingness and mental fortitude that had driven the acceptance. He felt as if he had been merely a spectator to his fragmented thoughts. There was shock, fear and desperation.

The final thought stunned him.

In the end, there had been defiance.

He’d seen himself give lure of power. Relinquish the doubts that had hung over him. Fendri had beaten into his head that he was too weak, incapable since their first meeting. Mother Raven had professed her concern that he was ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. The term, “fledgling” hung in the air like a curse.

He would prove them wrong.

The cackle that emanated from the lips of Mother Raven filled the room, echoing off the wall, surrounding him as if dozens of ravens answered her call.

“Welcome to the flock, young raven.” The hilarity that powered her laughter hardened into a steely tone. “It’s about time that you understand the responsibility that has befallen to you.”

With a flapping of wings, she shifted to his side. The solitary feather floated in the air, landing precariously on the lip of the stone vessel.

“The mantle that has been placed upon your shoulders is heavy,” she added, cocking her head, as if to inspect him. She looked at him with an expression of distinct unfamiliarity, as if she was seeing him for the first time. “From the very first Brand, these have been granted, not without effort and proof. Were you unworthy, you would have been dead, long ago. Though at times it still seems like you do nothing but try.”

There was a surprising sparkle of mischief that flashed in her eyes at the comment.

“I do not say this without risk, young raven,” Mother Raven warned. “Over-confidence breeds complacency. You are formidable, yet are but a candle in the face of an inferno. Nothing you have achieved or will achieve will be given free of effort, or cost. This road will only be as lonely as you allow it.”

Risens let the assessment linger, sinking in for a moment before responding. In the last few days, he felt the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders. There were questions that must be rectified, though in his heart he already knew the answers. He would see it through. The connections were no longer obscured, though the false king, was only a piece of a puzzle.

One that spread well beyond the boundaries of Halthome.

“I understand.” There was no doubt of dishonesty in his words.

“My presence it needed elsewhere, though there is more that I need to convey,” she continued. “You see, the Tears of the Under will have many uses, the first of which you now understand. Now that it resides in the Barren, it will bever again depart, the vessel will remain full as long as you allow it. Quench the Raven Talons in it. Recharge them when they no longer embody the strength to hold back the darkness. May the Carrion once again feel the sting of your blades. I will leave it to you to cipher the rest, I caution you, while it is versatile, it is not for you to consume.”

The dull wind carried Mother Raven from the dilapidated home to the wild grasses beyond the door. Her back was to him, facing the infinite darkness of the void beyond where the portal had once I opened. She viewed him from her peripheral as she turned her head to speak. 

“The Quillkey will grant you access between the realm where Windwake exists and the Barren. It will be useless in any realms,” she cautioned. “Take care where you open it for it will return you to precisely the same place.”

“I welcome your advice as always, Mother Raven,” he acknowledged, offering her a subtle bow.

She scoffed at him as he rose to his full height.

“Open the pathway, so that I may return to the Windwake,” she ordered in response, her face deepening into a frown. “Do not ever bow to me. It is not your place. It is far below your station.”

He nodded his acknowledgement though the statement was puzzling. There were echoes of the sentiment offered by the ominous voice in the Roost. Risens accepted that his development had pushed him far beyond the status of merely an assassin. He failed to see how anyone would bow to him.

They kneeled and pleaded to avoid his blades. 

No one bowed to him.