Ezer glanced up and gasped. Because the forest was utterlyfilledwith ravens. Hundreds soared above her at once, appearing from all directions as if the night itself had grown wings.
They circled overhead, a tornado of darkness as they screeched in unison. It grew so loud that it canceled out the snarl of the wolves, the howling of the wind, the roaring of her blood in her ears.
Tears slid down her face.
At least she would die to their dirge.
She would die to the requiem of her ravens.
Ezer thought of a crisp autumn evening in Rendegard, a few days before Ervos was summoned to the war. They stood together in the Aviary, a raven on Ezer’s shoulder.
‘They listen to you,’ he said. ‘Someday, you’ll make a fine Ravenminder in my place.’
‘And what if I don’t wish to become what you are?’Ezer said. ‘I’ve got dreams of my own, you know.’
He’d chuckled then, his booming laughter causing the birds around them to stir. ‘And what is it that you dream of, Little Bird?’
‘Elsewhere,’Ezer said. The raven nuzzled her cheek. ‘A place where the wind is wild and free. Where I can find answers about who I am. Where I can write the better half of my story.’
She would find out who she was, and make it mean something.
Maybe she’d make a friend, fall in love, start a family of her own.
She didn’t care, so long as she chose herownfate.
Ervos had smiled sadly and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘For now, your place is here, with me. Making a real difference in this war where you are safe and sound.’
‘And when the war is over?’Ezer asked.
‘I’ll take you elsewhere myself,’Ervos promised.‘Wherever that may be.’
Elsewhere never came. But Ezer imagined she’d see it soon enough, in death. The ravens continued to screech as the wolves reached her.
She felt the wind from their current on her face. It dried her tears as their song rumbled in her bones. She lifted Arawn’s small blade.
Go for the throat,he’d said.
She would not go down without a fight.
She screamed as she swung. But she never made contact.
A whoosh sounded – a flutter of furious wings so strong it ripped her dark curls free of their braid, and suddenly the darkness filled her vision. She was an anchor in a sea of silken wings that parted around her.
And the wolves were suddenlyengulfedin ravens.
‘Ezer,’ the wind whispered. ‘Look.’
They were like soldiers, glorious, winged warriors as they pecked and clawed and fought for Ezer’s life with no care for their own. They went for the wolves’ eyes. They shredded those terrible batlike wings, cutting through the membranous skin like it was made of fine paper instead of flesh.
Shadows stretched outwards and away as the ravens tore them apart, pecking at the wolves so fast the shadows didn’t have time to regather and heal.
She watched in amazement as the wolves fell.
As the shadows melted into the snow like oil … and then faded in a puff of black smoke.
They were gone.
Gone.
