Serial Saturday: "Clan of Outcasts" Season 3, Part 25 "Queen of Crows"

Part 25

"Queen of Crows"

Many Years Ago....

Mal surveyed the remains of the garden with a frown. The birds had taken it all--big, black crows who seemed to only desire the grubs and insects on her family's crops... who ripped and tore indeterminately in their quest to fill their bellies. Every spring, her mother said a prayer to Juros over the seeds, every spring her father would patiently water the tender shoots and scrape away the weeds so the seedlings wouldn't choke before they had a chance to flourish...
And every year, just before harvest, the crows came and devoured almost everything.

Mal shook her pale fist at the sky, wishing she could understand why her mother kept insisting on seeking out favor from a deity that apparently couldn't care less about any of them.
"Don't you see what it's done to us?" she seethed under her breath--lest anyone catch her raging at the sky. "Don't you care what these buzzards are doing?"

The only answer was the mocking croak of the distant birds--they would be back, just as soon as the garden held anything of value. A breeze curled around her shoulders, racing down her spine and making her shiver--but the skies remained silent and unmoving.

A flutter behind her prompted Mal to turn--but the only thing she saw was a grey dove sitting on a branch nearby. It cooed, tilting its head back and forth, as if to watch her. As Mal watched, a brown streak rustled by her, and a thrush landed on the branch beside the dove, trilling it's high-pitched cry. Mal held very still, as her mother taught her to do whenever nature's creatures approached. The thrush preened and ruffled its feathers right in front of her. When it twisted its head back and forth, Mal could almost sense that it might be looking right at her.

On a whim, Mal held out her hand. She had nothing to offer the bird, but at least she knew that these particular visitors were not responsible for the agricultural carnage.
The thrush's head tilted to the side, and its eye fixed directly on Mal. She held perfectly still, holding the bird's gaze... until, with a flurry of wings, it left the branch and landed on her hand. She felt its weight, the soft down of its underbelly. Mal admired the dappled brown of its coloring, the dainty narrowness of its features.

Something in the way that it settled, resting in her hand, Mal felt a connection between her psyche, and that of the bird. Mal sensed the approach of something else, and she held out her other hand. Almost immediately, a blue jay landed on her wrist, warbling happily.
Mal couldn't help herself. The bird's cheer seeped into her, overtaking her all at once. She smiled, then burst out laughing. More birds came to land on the branches, filling the air with their song. Mal sensed that the birds wanted to fly away soon, but they waited for her to release them. How did she know what wild animals were thinking?

Not just animals, Mal thought to herself. Birds.
She let the thrush fly away, and she focused on the jay.
We have an understanding, you and I, she thought, as if she could link to its mind.
The jay tilted and ducked its head, chirping softly in some kind of affirmative answer.
Do birds have a universal language to communicate with one another, like humans do? she asked the jay in her hands. If I give you a message, will you carry it to all the other birds?

The grand blue jay chirruped, only too excited to bear her message far and wide.

Tell them, Mal thought, feeling the connection grow every minute, to leave our crops alone. The crows have been tearing apart our vegetables to get at the grubs, and this kills the plants, leaving us with no food. Tell them to leave my family's land and let our crops grow. There is plenty of food to be had elsewhere.
The jay bobbed three times, and with a high, shrill song, it fluttered into the air. At once, the swirl of birds rose into the air and dispersed.

"Sweet Justice!" gasped a voice once the last pigeon disappeared. Mal turned to see her mother standing at the door of their house, watching the sky as if she had just seen the great flock of many birds depart. She looked upon her daughter with a stunned, confused expression. "What was all that?"

Mal grinned. "It's all right, they were just birds, Mama," she said.

Her mother frowned. "Just birds, she says. Do you know what destruction these just birds have caused to our fields? Don't you know they are the reason that we might not have enough food to last the winter?"
Mal shook her head. "Don't worry, Mama--I've taken care of it." She stepped forward to take her mother's hands.

"Taken care?" Her mother squinted, her wrinkled hands clasping at the pendant hanging around her neck. "What do you mean, child? How is inviting a flock of birds down to our fields taking care of preserving the harvest?"
Mal smiled and leaned forward to whisper her secret. "I can speak to the birds, Mama--I spoke to these ones, and told them to leave our crops alone. We won't have to worry about a single bird ever again."

Her mother's eyes flew wide and her face blanched. "You... You talked to them?" She gasped. "How is this possible?"
Mal shrugged. "I don't know how it happened, it just did--"
"Well, don't do it again!" The older woman's lip trembled and her forehead knit into deep furrows. "If anybody saw you, child... You have to understand how unnatural it is... They'd send you away, just like your brother--"
"My what?" Mal's sharp ears caught the last comment, although her mother's voice had fallen considerably. "What did you say, mother?"

"I don't want to lose you, Mallory!" Her mother declared, shuffling back into the house.

Mal followed close behind. "No, not that--the other thing. Mama," she waited until she was sure she had her mother's attention. "Are you saying I used to have a brother? I thought you couldn't have any children once you had me."

"That's true," Her mother said, fussing with the mince pie she was making for supper. "You were the only child I ever bore, and I never regretted it. You have been such a comfort to me all your life. Just you, all by yourself."
"What about my brother?" Mal pressed, reluctant to touch anything until her mother explained herself.
"What brother?" Her mother responded immediately. "You sound foolish when you talk about things that don't exist, Mallory."

Mal stomped her foot on the hollow floorboards. "You just said that the village authorities sent my brother away! Why would they do such a thing?"

"They don't!" Her mother finally turned around to face her. "Do not question things you wouldn't begin to understand. Just promise me one thing, Mallory--" She took her daughter's face in her hands. "Never ever reveal this secret about the birds to anyone, and don't let anyone catch you talking to them. Promise me!"

Mallory couldn't look away from those desperate, searching eyes. "I promise, Mama."
>>>>>>

Present Day....

Queen Mallory smiled to herself as she remembered that fateful day in that little backwater village, when she found her incredible power. It took about a year for neighbors and friends to start resenting her family, as their crops grew and thrived. She had done her best, at first, to try and honor her promise to her mother and ignore the birds begging and calling for her attention; but the more birds seemed to show up whenever she was around, or herald her arrival wherever she went, the more people couldn't help but take notice--and begin teasing her.

Mallory sniffed and scowled at the recollection of those cruel taunts. It served them right, that whoever disparaged her over her avian friends would find themselves suddenly beset by angry flocks wherever they went. Anyone who called her "bird girl" or whistled at her with mockery in their expression would never know a moment's rest, as day and night birds serenaded them, or built their nests overnight in the most inconvenient places. But really--who was to blame? Surely a mere human could not have such absolute control over the wild animals! 

Then the famine hit, and the desperate woodland residents visited the farms more frequently, as less food grew in the parched soil--except on Mallory's farm, where the vegetables and crops grew unscathed. That was the last straw for many of the villagers, and they began blaming her openly for causing the famine.

She picked up a dark feather that had fallen beside her throne. That moment, when the abuse became physical and personal, was when she started calling on the crows to defend her. They were always on hand, always willing to do whatever she asked, especially when it meant causing discomfort for humans.

Her parents finally decided that perhaps it would be best for her to find a new home for herself, away from all of these mistrustful people, and Mallory marked her own departure by razing all of the viable vegetation in the entire community with the largest murder of crows anyone had ever seen.

In the process of finding a place for herself in the world, the embittered young woman learned about other humans with special abilities, called Gifts, which were said to come from Juros--and that gave her anger a new focus.
Juros, the one her mother prayed to, the one who blessed and cursed at his whim, the one who toyed with the lives of mortals, "blessing" them with such powers as they could not understand, beyond their control, and turning them against one another... All this time, she had harbored anger at her village and the ones who ran it, when in reality, there was another more worthy of her wrath. From that day forward, Mallory vowed that one day she would find a way to seek out Juros, to make him and all those who supported him pay for what he had done to her.

"Soon," she murmured to herself. "Gybralltyr will be under my command, and I will take my fight to the very gates of Justicia itself." She watched the swirling cloud of crows circling outside, and Mallory laughed.
>>>>>>>>>

The soldiers prowled the halls of the castle. They hadn't yet found whoever it was the Queen wanted to find, but at least they'd gotten the drop on the castle soldiers.

One black-garbed man had, as a crow, suffered a clipped wing. As a man, his entire left side sagged at a different angle from the rest of his body, making it quite painful and slow to walk anywhere. He'd been posted in the Great Hall, which suited him. There wasn't anyone in the Great Hall, only many doors to the various towers around the castle. He could rest his poor gimp leg and his bad shoulder at the same time.

"If only Her Ladyship saw fit to retain a healer of some kind," he muttered under his breath.

Fortune seemed inclined to hear the poor man's request, for at that very moment, a young woman in the same dark garb as the crow soldiers--but this time, a long dress matching Her Ladyship's and a billowing cloak over it all--appeared, along with a young redheaded girl in a deep-purple dress. They came from the direction of the most derelict towers. He hadn't even been aware that this wing was unlocked, much less searched by the necessary squadron.

"Halt!" The man slurred, and the cloaked woman stopped in her tracks. "Who goes there?"

The dark-haired woman glared at him--the way everyone did, given his grotesque appearance. "Handmaiden to the Queen, you numbskull," she seethed. "Her Majesty has dispatched my assistant and I to seek out an apothecary who can supply us with the necessary herbs to create a potion that would block the spells of a Mage."

The soldier squinted. He hadn't heard of any handmaidens traveling with the Queen, only soldiers like himself...
The woman's bright eyes flashed. "Is there a problem, sir?" she challenged.

Something about this woman's story wasn't adding up, but he was too busy trying to keep himself upright in her presence to figure out just what. Lucky for him, the next rotation of soldiers was on its way. He wagged his finger at the handmaiden.
"I'm afraid I can't let you through," he said. "Her Ladyship's orders were that no one gets in, and no one goes out."

The imperious gaze hardened. "So you're saying you'd rather let some latent rune-traps and portal shields lay waste to all of your brethren, than allow me to find the last ingredient I need to stop it." She sighed and wagged her head, clicking her tongue while she did so. "Poor judgment on your part. At least give me your name, soldier, so that when the pitiful forces you have trapped in the garrison do find a way to escape and humiliate your Queen, I will be able to tell her who is to blame for it."

The soldier blanched, and straightened against the wall behind him.
In response, the handmaid smiled and continued on her way.

The guards at the front gate were another story. Both of them managed to stay pretty fit, and neither found the handmaid's appearance the least bit distracting.
They crossed spears in front of her this time, and the handmaiden stepped back.
"Nobody gets in or out," barked the soldier. "Queen's orders!"

The small redheaded waif ducked behind the handmaiden with a small yelp. The handmaiden still maintained her stance. "I see," she replied dubiously. "And are you saying that Queen Mallory isn't allowed to change her mind?"

The guard exchanged a doubtful glance to his partner on the other side. "Well, no, I'm not exactly--well, but maybe we can just... I mean I would like to... Perhaps we can just verify that the Queen has sent you?" he asked in a more amiable tone.

The handmaiden's eyes glinted, and as she raised her hand, her sleeve fell away to reveal a long golden cuff with delicate chains winding around the back of her hand. These chains were set with magnificent gems of many colors. "I have a better offer," she said. "You don't hamper me... and I don't blast you to kingdom come." To emphasize her words, she flexed her fingers, and a glittering ball of pure energy hovered over the amulet.

The guard backed away. Who was he to question the Crow Queen?
The handmaiden smirked and the energy pulse dissipated. "That's what I thought," she muttered, striding on her way.

Once outside, the handmaiden didn't continue straight on to the gate. Instead, she turned aside, to a corner blocked off from the rest of the courtyard. She slumped against the wall with a sigh.

"Saints alive," said the handmaiden in quite a different voice than the one she'd used before. "I didn't think that would work."
Her assistant squinted at her. "You know, you don't look half-bad with dark hair."

The taller woman shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, as if taking off a hood. The blackness faded to a brilliant red, revealing Lizeth underneath the manufactured disguise. Nyella did the same, turning her red locks golden-brown once more. Under her purple robe, she wore a bandolier full of vials, attached to a pouch hanging at her hip with even more equipment.

"All right... you know what to do?" Lizeth reminded her, reaching into the bag and taking out a filmy bundle of fabric that hardly seemed to hold any shape at all, flickering in and out of visibility in her hands.
Nyella nodded. "Head straight for the forest, find Warden Velora, explain the situation, and ask her to send her wolves to help us withstand the Queen's takeover."

"And above all," Lizeth finished, fastening the cloak around her shoulders, which made her figure seem to melt into the stones behind her, "Do not let yourself be seen, by people and animals alike. Use your stock of Gifts judiciously, do whatever it takes to avoid detection."

Nyella smiled and gave Lizeth a decisive nod. "Thank you for entrusting me with a job like this."
Lizeth returned a wry smile. "She's gotten the drop on us once already--we just have to do whatever it takes to reclaim the advantage and ensure that it doesn't happen to us again. We're the only hope anyone has."

Nyella wrapped herself in a similar cloak that rendered her form invisible, especially in the bright sunlight. "Good luck," she said, before disappearing completely.

Lizeth waited a good amount of time for Nyella to cross the courtyard and slip through a side door, before heading in the opposite direction, toward the garrison, where the crow soldiers had all but completely besieged Edri and Risyn with most of King Jaran's forces, cutting them off from the armory. Help was on the way.
>>>>>>>>>>

I hate this. I hate being invisible, reduced to silently drifting around, imperceptible by everyone who matters in my life. For someone Gifted with an insatiable appetite for power and attention... this is truly a most hellish torture.

I'm just glad I was able to let Beren know I still existed. I don't know how I was able to move that mop--but it made me feel better, to know that he knew, and he told the others, too.
Watching Denahlia single him out to work with her on the large statue thing worried me a little--I'll admit there is still a part of me that very much knows how much she hated the Gifted people, back when they were Outcasts, even though she was one of them... And yet, there was still something about her that wasn't quite the same as with other Gifted. Certainly my Gift never interacted with hers the same way it interacted with every other Gift I encountered.

Denahlia crouches next to a spot in the wall, where a round dial flashes brightly at me. That's my cue! I hover next to her, my state of incorporeality allowing me to reach inside and align the pins and gears correctly. As I said, I don't know how this works, but it does--as if the Key around my neck allows me to interact with the unseen side of Gybralltyr, disabling these freakish traps so that the pirates can advance closer and closer to the Gate. I can see it, already, because of how it's hidden. It glows brighter than the gauntlet of death-traps... It might be deep inside the mountain upon which Gybralltyr had been constructed, for all I know.

As the column of our enemies advances, I slip back to be next to Beren. How I want to hold him, to tell him that it's all right, that I know he can be strong for me! Oh, if only I hadn't indulged my own jealousy over all the attention Azelie received--I wouldn't be in this mess!

The tall pirate--the nice one--is walking behind him... but I can't help feeling that she's looking right at me, sometimes. It's not possible! She can't see me... no one can.

I need to hurry up ahead and get to Denahlia when she kneels once more, looking down at a series of stepping-stones that serves as the next trap. Seriously? That's the second one in these ruins! One wrong step, and the whole thing gives way--that's how they lost one of the pirates, the devious one with the long rat-tail with a pet crow that constantly followed him around. He'd stepped wrong before anyone knew how important it was to follow Denahlia--and he'd paid the price.

I can see the right path, and I can adjust the picture on the puzzle to show Denahlia the right way to go. As the last two pirates cross--the angry redheaded one that reminded me of the way Denahlia used to be, and the tall one--I reach in and shift the puzzle, springing the trap. With a snap, the four sides of a cage spring out of the ground, trapping the angry redhead on the last stepping-stone.

The pirate captain is furious, they're all shouting at each other--the feisty Elf is screaming her head off, but no one can figure out how to undo the traps, and so I've eliminated another pirate. I wonder, can I pick them off one by one in this manner? It's worth trying, as long as none of my friends get hurt.
There's one more thing I'm becoming aware of as they make their way through the city. We're being watched. I can see someone up in the cliffs overlooking the city. It looks like a man, but every time I try to push myself into the air to see, I cannot get high enough, and he disappears. I dare not leave the group for too long, anyway. Who knows what might happen to them if I allow myself to get distracted at this point?

It's probably a trick of the light. I should ignore this Mystery Man and focus on protecting my friends. After all, they are my only chance of ever regaining substance.

<><><><><><><>

<<<< Previous            Next >>>>>>