A Murder of Crows

The last chunks of metal hit the ground, several deflected by adroit life mages from the army, and then silence finally fell.

Morenna straightened her posture, gradually relaxing now that the threat had passed. Her siblings began to do likewise; she was not the only one still catching her breath. In front of them, the soldiers remained braced as if for attack, with the throng of civilians behind clearly uncertain if the threat was finally over.

The mood shifted quickly from poised, to awkward, to tense.

Before anything unfortunate could happen, Rakkan hopped up onto a fallen chunk of the City Crusher’s armor so that he stood above the crowd, spread his arms wide, grinned, and called out with a voice powerfully projected through his life magic:

“And THAT is how it is done!”

The crowd knew a cue when they heard one. The gathering tension snapped, and the fear of moments ago was transmuted into powerful relief as they let out a roar of cheers.

That Rakkan knew how to work a crowd was news to Morenna, but on reflection, it made sense.

“And this is what happens to anyone and any thing that threatens our people!” Rakkan roared, pumping a fist into the air and getting another bellow of support from the cityfolk. “People of Kourvald, know that we’ve been brawling with that thing all the way from the depths of the underground, and bringing it down before it could tear apart our beloved city required the strength and talents of every one of us! But first if not foremost, we needed our fearless leader, the man who always has a plan, my big brother and our future emperor: the Sun Prince himself, Aldan val Haarstein!”

“Why is Rakkan a carnival barker now?” Ophia muttered below the swelling cheers of the crowd as Aldan, putting on a wide politician’s smile, hopped up beside Rakkan and held up his own fist. Under the city’s collective adulation, he began to glow like the very sun. A ray of concentrated light burst from his upraised hand, piercing the sky itself and creating a hole in a passing cloud.

“Oh, I see what he’s doing,” Uthien murmured, pushing up his glasses. “Quite clever, actually.”

Morenna glanced curiously at him, but Rakkan had carried on shouting even as he slapped Aldan on the back.

“And this victory depended no less on each of us—particularly the incredible power of one whose recent breakthrough won you this week of festivities! People of Kourvald, let’s hear some appreciation for the reason our enemies will freeze, then burn, then shatter: the Frostfire Witch, Princess Ophia val Haarstein!”

It was with a smug smile that Ophia leaped onto the improvised platform on Rakkan’s other side. Her brothers edged away as, to another roar of approval from the crowd, she conjured a thick flurry of snowflakes in the air above them, followed by a burst of flame which made the lot flash into steam.

“And we must not forget the other reason we’ve got a week off to party!” Rakkan boomed. “Living proof that there’s no conflict between brain and brawn—the real thinker of this family, the guy who knows too much to ever be caught without a plan, and the prodigy air mage with the power to back up his big ideas: the Prince of the Skies, Uthien val Haarstein!”

Uthien rose into the air along with the voices of his people, hovering above and just behind his siblings on their perch. Above his outstretched palm rotated his two remaining tungsten spheres, while all around him a miscellaneous collection of gears from the shattered City Crusher began to orbit him in a ring, like moons around a planet.

“Wait,” Espa hissed, clutching Morenna’s sleeve, “is he going to do all of us? We’ve just been in a battle! I’m a mess!”

“You’re a Miurdan princess,” Morenna murmured back, patting her arm. “Battle damage is honorable. Anyway, if he’s got any sense he won’t mention me or Vanerra.”

“Does he, though?” Vanerra murmured, just before slipping away, using Morenna and Espa’s bodies as cover to hide behind the pile of rubble on which the others were standing.

Rakkan proved a bit cleverer than that. “And you won’t see our youngest sister, the Ghost of Kourvald, because she does her best work when no one’s watching! But she works as hard as any of us to watch over you all—no one who means harm to our people dares let down their guard, for there’s no telling where she might pop up. Friends, she did her part and more to bring down that behemoth before it could touch you, so let me hear some appreciation for Princess Vanerra val Haarstein!”

“He’d better not bring me up there,” Morenna muttered, already edging backward. Espa was frantically and surreptitiously smoothing her green hair down as the cheers began to fade and Rakkan launched into his next spiel.

“But don’t think Uthien and Ophia are our only multi-taskers! You saw her up there with the rest of us, fighting with the strength of ten bears to tear that thing down before it could reach you—but you didn’t see her wielding her legendary healing power all the way from the depths to this plaza. She’s the one who kept us alive to keep you alive, the hope and redemption of our future: the Hand of Life, Princess Espa val Haarstein!”

Espa allowed Aldan to help her onto the platform, where she looked more stricken by the cheering crowd before her than she had by the rampaging City Crusher. She managed a formal bow, prompting a round of renewed cheers.

Morenna had managed so slip several paces away before Rakkan continued.

“And my people, I tell you the last is the farthest thing from the least—perhaps the greatest of us all, and without exaggeration, the only reason we pulled through—indeed, the whole reason we were together to face down our foe!”

“Oh, don’t you dare,” she whispered, freezing in place. From her hiding place behind the others, Vanerra gave her a sympathetic look.

“There are forces and threats unknown in this world,” Rakkan declaimed, “powers that would divide and destroy us, malign beings beyond our knoweldge who envy our prosperity. But as that relic of the Machine Men just learned, there’s no hope and no safety for any who would threaten the Haarstein Empire—not while our oldest sister stands watch. Yes indeed, my friends, there are unknowable perils lurking in the shadows of this world, but she owns those shadows! And every foe that dares to usurp them fears the blade of the Black Princess! Our big sister, and your greatest protector, Morenna val Haarstein!”

She froze in place. Aldan, the traitorous bastard, had the gall to grin at her as he conjured a diffuse beam of light down from the very sky to illuminate Morenna, and the crowd fell breathlessly quiet, turning to regard her.

Rakkan, that fool—obviously that wouldn’t work! Her reputation was far too—

But that second of hesitation passed, and suddenly there burst another roar from all around as the people cheered. Calling, even chanting her name.

They cheered. The people of Kourvald cheered…for her.

Morenna was so flummoxed she allowed Aldan to pull her up onto the rubble with the rest of them; at least she retained the presence of mind to keep her glowing, steaming sword of magical destruction held out to the side, away from her siblings.

She was surrounded by them, grinning and patting her back, Ophia draping an arm around her from one side (using the other hand to keep Morenna’s sword pointed away from them) and Rakkan from the other. Surrounded by supportive siblings, while the Empire’s people cheered their approval of her.

Morenna had never been so utterly at a loss for what to do.

“And just why am I a witch?” Ophia asked sotto vocce, still smiling while the crowd cheered and the soldiers stepped in, beginning to resume clearing the square.

“Gimme a break, I was improvising,” Rakkan replied just as quietly. “I don’t think it’s half bad, sis! It’s catchy.”

“I notice you didn’t give yourself a nickname,” Uthien commented.

“Well, of course—nobody gets to pick their own nickname! Don’t worry, I’ll get one. After today, the rumor mill will start calling me something. I just hope I get a good one. Won’t be as cool as Frostfire Witch, though. That was my best work.”

“I don’t disagree,” Espa sniffed. “I’m not sure I love mine.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Rakkan sighed.

“A victory brilliantly earned,” a gravelly voice cut through the noise of the crowd, causing them to turn.

The pandemonium was beginning to quiet down; the guards were making progress in shooing the citizens back away from the plaza, while more reinforcements had finally made it here from other castle entrances and barracks out in the city. They were forming defensive lines around the remains of the City Crusher and the now-gaping hole into the ancient factory beneath the castle. And among the soldiers and mages and functionaries who rushed forward, there now stepped Zaurgan the Seer.

His staff thunked against the ground and the two ravens on his shoulders ruffled their feathers, one croaking, as he came forward to stand before the seven princess and princesses.

“Thank you, Zaurgan,” Aldan said with a calm, insincere smile. “It was hard-won, but it needed all of us. Together, it seems there’s little we can’t accomplish.”

“Indeed,” said Zaurgan impassively, “this is the best outcome to your father’s test any of us could have hoped for. A terrible threat beneath our very feet thwarted, and the scions of Khellvain united in purpose. A glorious day for the Empire.”

“A glorious day,” Aldan agreed, showing just the tips of his teeth.

“Ugh,” Morenna grunted, rolling her eyes, and stepped down from their perch, heading toward the damaged ramp.

With a hoarse squawk, one of Zaurgan’s ravens launched itself forward, landing atop Morenna’s hair and pecking her sharply on the forehead.

“Here now!” Ophia exclaimed. “Control those beasts!”

“Dexter, return!” Zaurgan said in a disinterested tone. “My sincere apologies, Princess Morenna. They are ordinarily so well-trained, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She raised a hand to shoo away the raven, which squawked and swooped around, pecking her head again.

“If you can’t restrain that thing,” Ophia began ominously, conjuring a fireball.

“Sister, don’t do that,” said Morenna, trying once more to deflect Dexter. “We mustn’t abuse animals; if they are poorly trained, it’s the fault of the trainer. Besides, nature has a way of solving its own problems.”

As Dexter tried to swoop around her head to peck again, a chorus of angry squawks grew rapidly in volume until suddenly, a whole flock of crows plunged out of the sky.

Morenna stood in place while her siblings retreated, and all around her there swirled the crows, screeching in outrage and attacking the much larger raven from every direction.

With a furious cry, the other raven surged forward from Zaurgan’s shoulders to join the fray, and was just as immediately surrounded.

Morenna and Zaurgan both stood stock still, utterly impassive, staring one another in the eyes without flinching, as all around and between them the air filled with furiously cawing black birds. Feathers drifted to the ground as, after just a few seconds, the two ravens gave up and flapped away desperately, pursued by over a dozen angry crows.

Zaurgan, finally, his expression unchanging, inclined his head toward her once.

Making no reply, Morenna turned her back on him and walked away.