Carrion Crow Read online

  Carrion

  Crow

  Book Two of the Otherworld Series

  Talis Jones

  Carrion Crow is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Talis Jones

  Cover Design by StaleJive Design Collective

  Map copyright © 2018 Talis Jones

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 9781791398804

  Published in the United States of America.

  www.talisjonesofficial.com

  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

  THE OTHERWORLD SERIES

  Crooked Raven

  Carrion Crow

  Wings of Ruin

  Table of Contents

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  GLOSSARY

  THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  An aged man with scars across his face sat hunched in a chair tucked into the room’s corner. The balcony doors were swept open and a soft summer breeze teased the pale curtains as his skeletal form recoiled from the waning sunlight trespassing inside. A stray beam of falling daylight sprung free from a passing cloud shifted towards his foot. He subconsciously slid his boot away. Deep brown haunted eyes stared blankly, oblivious to the sounds of footsteps and chaos. Outside of this sitting room a battle raged and quickly yields. The attack had every ounce of surprise leaving Mordréda at its mercy.

  No, instead Elijah sat alone remembering the pivot his life spun so many years ago…

  “I loved you! I would have followed you anywhere! Cassandra!” he cried torn between deep anguish and bloody rage.

  The Crown spat out a cruel laugh he never before would have believed could come from her deep cherry lips. “Pathetic! You were always but a pathetic fawning puppy at my feet, Eli.”

  “I thought you loved me,” he moaned as he felt his heart surely breaking. “I thought—”

  “You thought you thought you thought! You don’t think, Eli. You are a slave to your emotions with no room for any conscious thought at all. Don’t you see? I only needed your sickeningly pure heart and your youth to allow entrance upon Oneiroi’s shores. My plans were always so much bigger than you, Eli. Why can’t you understand that?” This was one of the rare private occasions where her face was not painted or masked so indeed Eli could see her irritance quite plainly and it broke him.

  “But you chose me!” he protested weakly.

  “Yes, indeed I did. By pure chance I stumbled across you, such a perfect candidate. A number with no name. A boy with no escape, no future, no choice. A captive not yet a useless empty shell.” As she spoke she paced the room as an exasperated parent might when lecturing a particularly trying child.

  “You are here because you were the only child who slept soundly at night. While everyone else drowned under the stars plagued with nightmares and memories, you slept in peace calling the Island to surface and rescue you in your dreams. Oneiroi is a refuge and you clung to it with such pathetic ferocity that I knew you’d be perfect. With the compass to guide my way and you to fell the enchantments I was at long last ready for my return.”

  Eli’s mouth opened and shut but he could not seem to procure any words to march forth off his tongue. He had been so utterly deluded. How could he have fallen so enamored by this snake? She had been this beautiful impossible angel reaching out with promises of rich dreams and he had foolishly grasped her hand clinging to it fiercely, willingly blinded and too afraid to let go for fear his dreams would shatter.

  But let go he did, and shatter they most certainly had. His fists clenched painfully and trembling as he desperately fought to control the merciless tide of hatred that was quickly washing away every tender memory of them together as if they were no more than fragile footprints in sand.

  With a patronizing sigh and cruel twitch of amusement from her lips she locked his gaze with hers. “I see how you are at war within yourself. I would apologize for my part in this if I truly had any hand in your discomfort. But you see, you once asked me if I believed in love and I told you then, as I shall remind you now, that love is a fanciful fiction. One that I recommend you not waste your time searching for. You’ve no one but yourself to blame, I’m afraid. You and your inexhaustible emotions. Although they did make for some quite good fun, I confess.”

  “What—” Eli snapped his mouth shut with a clack of his teeth and forced down a deep breath. “What exactly are you telling me, Cassandra?”

  Cassandra placed a delicate pale finger upon his temple and dragged it lazily down the side of his face. “I’m saying I need you to stop getting in my way as if you have some sort of claim on me. I’m saying that while you were fun you’ve grown into a nuisance. I’m saying that I used you over and over and over again. I’m declaring, Elijah, that I never loved you. Not for a moment’s bliss.”

  A roar exploded as he slammed her into the wall pinning her there with his bare hands upon her throat. Cassandra gasped for breath as her eyes widened only slightly with shock and unmistakable anger. “You kill me,” she gasped, “and you’ll never find yourself again.”

  A sudden reluctance swooped through his heart and Eli’s grip lessened. At that moment Cassandra released a startling ear-piercing shriek. He stumbled backwards in fright and surprise. Hurling herself towards him with her nails sharp and her fingers bent like claws, her hand raked across his face when a sudden gasp of air flew from her lungs.

  Eli released his dagger immediately and watched in horror as she slid to the ground, her face frozen in uncomprehending shock as blood quickly pooled down her gown. Unable to bear the sight or her whimpering breaths he turned away. He lifted his shaking hands and saw the dark blood clinging to them. At the gruesome sight he hissed and closing his eyes turned slowly back around. With great reluctance he opened his eyes to take in the crime of passion when his mouth dropped open in shock as pure terror filled his eyes. The body was gone. Cassandra had vanished. He collapsed upon his knees as panic threatened to seize him but something caught his attention diverting his spiraling thoughts.
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br />   The blood was turning black and thick. The viscous poison seeped into his clothes from the floor, it drenched his hands, and with a horrible gagging sound it filled his throat. His eyes rolled back in his head and when they returned they were black as a demon’s unleashing scalding rivulets of inky tears. He felt it then. He felt how Cassandra’s death had ripped something inside of him. He felt as if she ran rampant within, wringing him of right or reason.

  The moment passed.

  The blood was gone, the tears were dried, and his mind at last bobbed right-side up. Instead he was swathed with the expected emotions of grief, betrayal, love, hatred, and fear…and somewhere deep within the middle of it all there was the tiniest prick of emptiness. A puncture so small Eli took no notice of it. He was fine. She was gone. He was Crown. She was gone.

  The door to the sitting room banged open and in stormed a broad-shouldered man clad in leather breaches, rugged armor, and a blond braid tied down his back. His piercing blue eyes stabbed Crown Eli’s tired ones with determined hatred as his arm held a sword aloft unwavering and pointed mere inches away from the Crown’s withered heart.

  Fear pulsed somewhere in his veins struggling to break free from the heavy layer of dust from disuse. Elijah cocked his head to the side taking in this large brawny form towering before him as vague thoughts of escape flickered somewhere in his head. No, he could not muster an ounce of strength nor desire to flee…but rotting in the dungeons, trapped with naught for company save the dark companion humming in his head would indeed be much worse, surely…

  With an unexpected surge of motion Crown Eli leapt from his chair lunging with his teeth bared for the soldier’s soft exposed throat. He was flung sideways from the force of a blow to his head causing his shrunken body to crash against the polished stone wall. He was a rabid dog. In a flash he jumped back onto his feet but the blond soldier pounced too quickly plunging his blade through Elijah’s heart….

  He collapsed upon the stone floor with a rueful smile and glassy eyes frozen dead but staring. The young man found the corpse’s expression deeply disturbing and turned to see what had so captured his final stare. A portrait hung upon the wall and featured was a startlingly beautiful masked woman with flowing pale-gold hair flaunting a coy smile and a dangerous look in her icy emerald eyes.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Slancha!” roared the partiers as glasses struck the air in salute. A fiddle’s music sliced through the air stirring up a wild tune bewitching feet to dance to and fro with a jump, a stomp, a twirl, and a flick. A massive pale tent encapsulated an impressive portion of the castle’s blooming grounds in Mordréda corralling the revelry within its silken borders. Cheery yellow light brightened the space pushing back night’s shadows.

  Tables sagged under the weight of cakes, pastries, lamb, pork, turkey, cheese, bread, sauces, and soups. Nimble servants wove betwixt the guests holding aloft trays of wine, ale, and cider. Musicians commanded a slightly raised circular platform erected in the center of the tent playing a seamless stream of music as it pulsed from joyful to positively ecstatic, with the occasional calming piece to allow the dancers a breath between sets. From their deft fingers spun tunes of both Aztlanean and Llyrian tradition representing the party’s hosts: Crown Sarai Morrigan and her fiancé Prince Addar Waseem. This was indeed a celebration of a forthcoming union.

  Months had passed since Crown Morrigan’s ascension onto the throne. Time had pushed Oneiroi into early spring, and despite how reluctant Quidel felt about such a transition the season had at last begun to take hold causing the ice to melt leaving the land constantly damp and dreary with only a slight glimmer of rebellious color spattered throughout. One such spark of color appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

  A pair of emerald green eyes shone in the darkness. Around them appeared the form of a young man with dark hair and hardened muscles, his body clothed in dark cottons and leathers. A baldric crossed his chest lined with daggers and a sword while a black cloak hugged his shoulders. He had an odd look about him, from his face to his boots he appeared rugged and worn yet his eyes glowed with an endless fire.

  On silent footsteps he strolled amongst the shadows towards the tethered tent. Wisps of music, laughter, and rich food wafted through the flaps and washed over him as he continued forwards remaining carefully hidden. He peered through a gap in the tent and cast his gaze about the space searching for a particular face. Drunkards stumbled and slurred, silly girls simpered and flirted, foreign guests shifted about both pompous and jealous. Fools, all of them, he thought.

  Another roar rose from the crowd as the Crown whirled through the dancers, her billowing skirts pushing everyone out of her way as she spun towards the prince himself. To his surprise the Llyrian seemed rather genuine in his affection. How unfortunate, he thought with forced sympathy. It was difficult to feel anything beyond anger in the presence of Crown Morrigan. Beautiful indeed, but beauty counts for nothing. She had taken everything from him and he would soon be stealing it back with interest.

  Stalking further around the temporary structure he paused once more, this time leaning against an opening where the flap had been tucked aside to allow the guests a gust of fresh air. Arms folded across his chest his eyes roved past the endless sea of faces until at last a flash of silver caught his gaze.

  A young woman with dark silver hair styled in loose curls adorned with dried rosebuds tucked in like a crown spun in a circle held within the arms of a man dressed more like a dark-edged hunter than a royal guest. His pitch-black clothing stood out boldly against the woman’s soft cream chiffon gown, a miscreant and a maiden.

  Something struck him as he watched the dancing couple, not the cautious wide berth the other guests provided him nor their unwillingness to meet his gaze, it was the way the dark stranger looked at his partner, as if she were the only person in the world. No, it was more than that. The man’s eyes were too sharp to let his vision tunnel…it was more something overwhelming his eyes. His young face looked soft as his copper eyes drank in her face with a lingering bewilderment at his good fortune, as if should he dare blink or breathe too hard she might fade from his dream.

  He didn’t know who this rogue was but he wasn’t sure how he felt about him dancing with his sister.

  As if sensing his presence Adrianna’s head snapped up twisting towards where he hid. Her eyes widened as her forehead creased in either confusion or disbelief, but she had recognized him. Of that he was certain. Giving her only the one glimpse he slid back into the night air walking slowly towards the silver birch trees that seemed to glow in the brittle darkness.

  “What is it?” asked Jack sharply, instantly on alert.

  “What? Oh, nothing. Well, I thought…I thought I saw…” Adrianna was looking left and right searching for the man who had disappeared. She was positive she had never seen him before and yet his eyes… “I’ll be right back.” She stepped away from Jack and dashed casually for the exit hoping against hope that she hadn’t imagined it, that she wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Hullo, Adri,” spoke a voice that had matured far past the little squeak that she remembered. From behind a tree a black-clad figure stepped out before her. Eisen.

  Adrianna clapped a hand over her mouth as tears pooled in her eyes at the sight of him. Everything might be changed but not his eyes. Her gaze raked over his body taking in how tall he had grown. The round boyishness and lanky limbs were long gone and moonlight glanced off of what she saw was a small silver daith piercing through his left ear.

  “You look—You can’t really be—” Adrianna snapped her mouth shut not trusting her words, or her eyes for that matter. No, she had been cooped up in the palace for far too long, it was merely her guilt being cruel to her mind by conjuring up false visions.

  “I’m real, Adri. I’m real and I’m right here.” His voice was strong but even so she heard a slight plea slip through and at that she rushed to him pulling her brother into a fierce hug.

  Tears were properly streaming d
own her face now and at last she managed to gasp, “Five months! Five whole stupid effing months!” A sudden rush of guilt and anger welled up within her. “I’ve spent all this time hating myself for not having been able to find you sooner, worried that something awful had happened to you and it was all my fault because if only I had managed to escape or done something, anything!”

  She took a great shuddering breath to calm herself. “How could you…” She shook her head. “Where were you, Eisen?”

  Geoffrey, now much older and grown than the last time they were together, looked down at Adrianna with his eyes roiling full of indecipherable and conflicting emotions. “I couldn’t come to you, Adri. Titus bound me in a promise.” Then in one breath his words flew out. “No one would help me find you after you were taken. No one would listen to me. So I took matters into my own hands. I swore to get you back and I wasn’t about to let anyone break that promise.”

  Adrianna took an unconscious step back as she sucked in a nervous breath. “Geoff, how did you become like this?” she asked softly as her gaze once more took in his impossible frame.

  His jaw tightened but no regret could be found in his eyes. “I gave him eight years of my life in exchange for the gift of magic.”

  Numbly she nodded her head casting her eyes downward. She knew “he” was Titus. She also knew, although Geoffrey didn’t seem to realize, that he had sacrificed his childhood for that trade, for her. A part of her worried what such a sacrifice might do to him but she shook her head pushing her worries aside. Focus. He was alive and well, and that was enough to focus on for now.

  Adrianna hesitated to look back at him; it was simply too foreign a sight. But as she at last lifted her head, forcing herself to come to terms with the man that loomed before her now and that the little boy she remembered was gone, she blinked. He had reduced himself back into a ten-year old boy as if sensing her struggle to come to terms with him. With a fading shocked expression she asked, “So you really possess magic?”