Risens wrenched his blade from the still body of the final bug creature. Black ooze poured from the wound, steaming as it mingled in the pool. Like smoke dissipating in a stout wind, it faded into nothingness, leaving only the clean water behind.

  “Do not forsake us. Wash the carrion filth from our edges.”

  Gone was abject fear, yet there was an undeniable sense of concern that colored the voices of the blades.

  Dipping the metal in the water, the vile blood hissed as it washed away. The Talons’ satisfaction was palpable as he wiped the remaining liquid off before returning them to their sheaths. Strangely enough, the symbols that counted down the time of their use didn’t increase with the deaths of the unforeseen creatures.

  The sense of dread he’d experienced when he’d first touched their handles had faded with the death of the second creature. That they were dead, he was certain, yet he was still cautious as he dragged their lifeless husks from the water. Somehow, leaving them to rot in the pool didn’t seem right.

  No sooner had he cleared them from the water than they, too, began smoldering like a soggy piece of wood left to dry in the intense heat of a fire. He stepped back, covering his nose. Within a matter of a few horrible breaths, the large, shiny, black carrion dissolved before his eyes.

  Beyond the name given him by the Raven Talons, he had no knowledge of what the creatures truly were. The fear had no doubt stemmed from the impenetrable shells that coated their bodies. How and why the water proved the key to his victory were also unknown to him. With the threats seemingly neutralized, Risens returned his attention to the vessel atop the pillar. Mother Raven had sent him on a quest, sent him to collect the item, with no information about the dangers beyond a mere, ambiguous warning. That there was an importance beyond his current understanding, he was certain, though he could not see through the shroud of mystery that enveloped every cryptic message and task she provided.

  He approached the pedestal. In truth, he had no understanding of what would happen once he lifted the bowl from its perch. Provided that no further creatures emerged from the stone, he anticipated that the portal to the Barren would open once again. The fact that the wall remained stagnant, covered by mossy growth and moisture, told him his task here was not yet complete.

  With a rapid, but cautious motion, Risens lifted the vessel before retreating several steps from the pillar. For a few moments, he waited and watched. Indeed, no more creatures burrowed through the stone, though even more disturbingly, no portal opened to grant him leave from the chamber.

  There was something more, some part of the quest that he had yet to fulfill.

  With the immediate concern for his safety satiated, he studied the vessel. It was clearly made of stone but surprisingly lighter than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t overly deep, though it was wider than he’d expected, even from his original inspection. If the vessel itself wasn’t the quest, then what was?

  It only took a moment for the realization to dawn on him. It wasn’t merely the bowl that was required, but its contents as well. He gave the area where the carrion had dissolved a wide berth as he stepped to the side of the pool. For the first time, he peered into the water, studying its shallow depths. The bottom was rocky, though in a few places, plants sprouted in small clumps below he surface. He had a decent working knowledge of Windwake’s flora, though most was dedicated to concocting poisons and even simple remedies. Furthermore, this wasn’t Windwake anymore. Not really.

  He tested the waters with the tip of his small finger. Feeling no adverse effects, he took a breath and plunged his whole hand into the water. He scooped up some of the growth, roots and all, from the pool’s stony bottom. Though he didn’t recognize the plant, he expected he knew someone who would.

  Tawny was far better versed in these matters. Her knowledge continued to surprise and impress him, though the latest development had brought its own complications.

  Gently placing the plant into the stone vessel, then lowering the bowl to a relatively flat section of ground, Risens leaned over the water. His legs were wet below the knees, and he’d experience the chill of its temperature. Cupping his hands, he scooped up the frigid liquid, bringing it to his nose. It smelled crisp, clean, and fresh, though he dared not drink it. Beyond the creatures that had died in its depths, he knew that this was not merely a spring bubbling up from the mountains that sustained much of the life in Windwake and beyond.

  The water slipped through the cracks of his fingers, rippling the surface as he let it cascade into the pool. Collecting the bowl, he dipped it, filling it to the brim. He swirled the clear water in the vessel, causing the diffused reflections of light to flare off the particles and crystals within the rock. Over the staccato drops of water on the ground, the slight whisper of movement, a muffled, yet noticeable shift in the pressure of the air drew his attention back to the wall where he’d entered.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  In the distinct shape of a doorway he’d come to recognize, a section of stone undulated as if it were merely a vision through clear water. With a sudden darkening, the wavering black void of the portal opened on the wall.

  With the apparent completion of his task, Risens had no desire to linger in the chamber. The first stage of the Under had not been entirely difficult, yet it had still tested him beyond his expectations. The troubling fear emanating from the blades was realized in an unexpected enemy that, at first glance, seemed to have no weakness. That was until he’d doused them with the water he was now desperately trying not to slosh onto his clothing.

  But what if he encountered one of those carrion apart from the pool? He would have to determine a true weakness that didn’t rely on happenstance.

  Crossing the room to the portal was done with relative ease, the black void patiently awaiting his arrival. Stepping into the inky shadow, he was hit by oppressive pressure, icy chill, and devastating speed. As he blinked, his vision resolved on a scene that was wholly unexpected.

  Risens had not returned to the minute, rounded chunk that signified the entrance to the Under. To his surprise, he now looked across the expanse of the ramshackle house he was brought to in the Barren.

  The structure that he had not known he’d created.

  Risens now stood as he had when he had entered for the first time. Holding the bowl steadily in front of him, he faced the small thatched house that slowly rotted away in the fallow fields that surrounded it. Mother Raven crouched by the door, her focus intent on whatever design her finger dragged through sand. She raised her eyes as his footsteps sounded on the loose Earth.

  “You have returned, Fledgling.”

  “I have. And as always, I’ve returned with more questions than answers.”

  “You act as if that is a bad thing,” she crowed. “The ones who have the fewest questions always seem to find the fewest answers, understand the least, and make wild assumptions that are inevitably wrong. And deadly.”

  His ancient guide rose from where she was crouched, though not before scratching out whatever it was she was tracing in the dirt. She glided into the house without another word.

  He cast a quick glance at the section of earth his guide had been tracing her design in. There were definitive hints of some sort of rune in the loose soil, though her actions had disguised any accurate details. His surprise continued as Mother Raven entered the dilapidated house. When he’d departed the chamber for the Under, the furnishings had been sparse. Beyond the broken pallet for a bed, the pair of doors, and the hearth built into the wall, there had been nothing of note. Now, he spotted a stone pedestal in the center of the room, similar to the one that held the vessel in the Under.

  Shaking his head, Risens glanced down at the vessel and the water, surprised to find that it no longer sloshed as he moved, but was, instead, frozen solid. The icy chill of the brief passing had turned it into a block of crystal clear ice. The unusual plant within stood still, as if frozen in time instead of merely water. The temperature here in the Barren was mild, though waiting for it to melt on its own would be agonizing. He would have to light a fire.

  “Yes, yes, place the vessel on the pedestal, Fledgling.” Mother Raven gestured toward it. Her voice was clipped, with thecondescending tone of someone who knew their words would be heeded.

  A sudden frustration rose within him. He had achieved the title of King’s Rightmaker. In all of Halthome, there was but one man he was bound to answer to: King Lathrenon. His commands were regularly issued from the unquestionable mouth of the ruler of the realm, yet here he was, following the instructions of an enigmatic old woman, dressed like a raven on a hidden, mysterious, floating island.

  He also understood one thing above all else: power. Something she wielded in abundance, despite her frail nature.

  There was likely nothing he could have done to prevent her from spilling his blood if she so desired. Even for one so aged, the woman appeared unstoppable. The Dull Wind carried her across the expanse of the Raven’s Court in the blink of an eye, just as it had in this very moment. Without a chance to react, he found himself defenseless. Before his hands could find their blades, the feathers of her cloak hardened into weapons, pushing against his neck. His skin dimpled at the gentle pressure of the point, yet not a drop of blood had been drawn.

  “We do not hesitate when given a command,” she said.

  He had no desire to cross her. She and the ominous voice that commanded him demanded respect. Their words and intentions held a tangible power. The words of the King, on the other hand, now felt hollow and tainted.

  The echoes of “false king” ricocheted through his mind.

  “Place in the bowl on the pedestal.” Mother Raven clapped once as she backed away. “You did well to figure the task out quickly and to return alive. Do not let the success go to your head. Anything beyond the initial chamber will be far more difficult. Far more dangerous.”

  Risens stepped forward, observing the new pillar as best he could as he placed the vessel atop the stone. There was no need to adjust the placement or balance the bowl, as it fit atop the pedestal as if it had been crafted specifically to receive it. The thought crossed his mind that it likely had been erected for that exact purpose.

  “Where did this come from?” he asked.

  Stepping back, he inspected the pillar. It was constructed of stone, matching the coloration of the vessel he’d retrieved. At first glance, he’d have assumed that the pair had been carved from the same hunk of rock. The design that wrapped the pillar was an intricate scene depicting a winding tree, its branches and foliage rendered by masterful hands. In several locations, birds were perched on the limbs, needing no identification.

  Ravens, majestic and intricately detailed, watched him from the tree.

  “The Barren will adapt to the circumstances that surround it,” she replied. “The vessel needed a place to rest, and it was made so. As I have said, this land is yours to mold to your liking.”

  He had heard the statement before, but had attributed it to his physical ability to modify the space. Where he would procure the supplies and materials was a question that he hadn’t considered, though now it seemed that the answer had presented itself before he could pose the question. Somehow, the thought of converting the structure into a usable home of sorts brought a surge of excitement to him. Since his earliest memories, he had called his secret wing under the castle his home.

  How long that would remain was now in question.