The Prince and the Raven, Jared/Jensen, 4/8
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Chapter 8 | ART
Part Four - A Daring Plan
Once the men were gone, Jared stacked up the wood they’d left along the wall and laid that evening’s fire. The Mountain had left him a full armload more than last week, so he could afford to either have a fire longer, or have a bigger one through the night.
Maybe a small fire running longer would be better. It would heat the stones under his tent, and that residual heat would last for hours.
Decision made, Jared decided to wait till the afternoon to start his fire. He had other things to do right now.
With the new provisions delivered, The Mountain and the Weasel should stay safely away from his room for a while. He decided to try out the remainder of his keys on the main door.
But by the time he got to the tenth key, sweat had popped along his forehead, and he could taste the bitter tang of defeat. Nothing was fitting. He could have cried when the eleventh key proved too small to even bother trying. He had only one key left. He slid it in the lock-it seemed like a good fit-but when he tried to turn it-nothing.
Jared knocked his head against the door in exasperation. It was too much to hope that some random keys would fit. Come on, buck up, Padalecki. He told himself. He still had the courtyard lock to try.
More than a little discouraged. he shuffled over to the other door and started the process all over again. He almost missed it when with the seventh key, there was a tiny click. Wait, what? He twisted the key, and the shackle popped open on the lock.
Oh, my gods, oh, my gods. Did that really just happen? Jared looked around in sudden panic that The Mountain might appear out of thin air behind him. He eased the lock off and threw open the hasp. Licking his lips nervously, he took a deep breath and eased one of the doors open. He was expecting some kind of horrendous creak or groan that would bring The Mountain or Weasel running. But the hinges were well-greased and opened without a sound.
Suddenly Jared had a full view of a large courtyard. Protected by the high walls, the snow lay only six or eight inches deep here. Today it wasn’t snowing, just windy and cold, a perfect opportunity to venture out. He took a moment to grab up a few extra layers, wrapping his hands and legs with extra shirts before wrapping Dani’s thick wool scarf securely around his head. Then he eased the door closed behind him to preserve the room’s warmth and took a few tentative steps toward the center of the courtyard, where two trees edged a small, manmade pond. He glanced back nervously at the door and stopped when he noticed his footprints in the snow. If The Mountain or the Weasel ever came this way, his trail would betray him completely. Then he remembered the heavy locks on the other doors to the courtyard. He’d never heard the men try to open them, and he seriously doubted they would try to break them. He’d have to take the chance. He would go crazy if he stayed cooped up in that room any longer.
He continued toward the pool. It was covered in snow, but the handpump on the side looked like it might still work. If it wasn’t frozen solid, it would give him extra water to clean himself and his clothes, if nothing else. He wiped away the snow covering and tapped the surface of the pond. Frozen solid. Jared laid his hand on the ice and concentrated. His hand grew warm, started to glow. He could feel the ice melting. He grinned. He hadn’t used his powers in a while. It felt good, like using a muscle that hadn’t been stretched, the heat coming quicker than it ever had. He tapped the surface, and the now-thin film of ice broke easily. He took a sip. It tasted clean, spring fed, the water still moving below the surface. If he was still here in the spring, he could even take a bath.
The spring! Jared huffed. He’d be turning sixteen in the summer. He’d reach his majority and soon after should have the Change, where his full powers, if any, would reveal themselves. He wondered if Omundson would let him live to see that day.
The courtyard had a number of doors leading off it, but what caught Jared’s eye immediately were the stone stairs leading up to the parapet. As he started up them, he realized the steps were covered in snow, and slick with ice beneath. If he was halfway sane, he’d go back down, but he needed to get a good look at where he was.
Once he reached the battlements the wind was blowing so hard it threatened to cast him from the stone catwalk. He had to cling to the icy merlons just to stay in place. Wrapping his quilt around him more securely, he turned carefully, taking in the full 360° view. From here, he had a clear view of the mountain the castle was built into, as well as the whole valley below and the surrounding mountains. He didn’t recognize any of it, and other than trees there was nothing to see, not even a nearby lake or town, not even a plume of smoke from a lonely cottage chimney.
Crestfallen, he continued along the ridge line to a turret at one corner of the courtyard. His feet in his thin felt shoes were ice cold. He needed to get inside soon before he got frostbite. Opening the turret door, he found a set of stone steps that led down. It was a relief to be out of the buffeting wind and cold. Unfortunately, the door at the base of the steps was locked from the outside. On his way back up, he could hear voices from what he guessed must be the great hall on the other side of the wall. The Mountain and the Weasel were talking.
“When is our relief coming? I could do with a couple days off this bloody rock. I didn’t sign up to freeze my ass off babysitting a princeling.”
“Gregor said next week some time. But the master wants us all to stay. He’s sending extra supplies.”
“What for? The kid doesn’t weigh seven stone. Why all the security for one scrawny boy?”
“I don’t ask, and he don’t tell. I just do what he orders.”
“Why can’t we just kill him now?” the Weasel complained. “Why all this mincing about?”
“If it happens, the Master wants it to be fresh done, so it can look like an accident when the kid’s on the way home from school.”
“Oh, he’s crafty, that one. I guess it would be too suspicious, both the old king and the kid kickin’ off at the same time.”
“That’s why he’s the boss.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Jared clenched his hands in rage. He’d thought something was off about Omundson from the beginning. But now to hear his own death and his father’s so casually discussed confirmed all his suspicions.
He climbed the steps back to the parapet and continued to explore. He entered a second turret on the far corner of the wall. In a stroke of good luck, this one led down to the courtyard coming out one of the side doors Jared had yet to explore. He was relieved not to have to make his way down the treacherous outdoor steps.
It was getting late, and his feet were numb, and a chill was settling into Jared’s bones. But his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to stop until he’d at least gotten a quick look behind all the doors. He continued, investigating more of the side doors off the courtyard. Most were sleeping quarters with a few bits of abandoned, half rotted furniture. Broken up, it would make good firewood. He also found a supply room, bare save for half a wall of neatly stacked and cut firewood. “Whoop!” he cried in relief. First water, and now firewood. It could make the difference between life and death here. There were also a few sacks of supplies, mostly cups and cutlery, but one contained some sweet-smelling herbs, a bag of tea leaves mixed with dried berries and spices.
He grabbed an armload of firewood, looped the bag of tea on top, and headed back outside. He was surprised at how much time had slipped by, the sun already starting to sink along with the temperature. The wind had picked up, too, and could now be felt even down here inside the protected castle walls. He needed to get back inside immediately. He couldn’t feel his toes any longer. He was hurrying across the courtyard when he heard a familiar “Grack.” He spotted his favorite green-eyed raven eyeing him from one of the trees in the courtyard.
“Dropping in for a visit?” Jared was in a good mood. He had already decided to celebrate his success hunt with a roaring fire. He wouldn’t be able to do it every night, but he could tonight. He looked forward to being toasty warm, maybe even sweating.
“I can’t stop to talk, so you need to either come inside with me, or we pick this up tomorrow.”
Jared slid open the door to his cell, holding it wide enough for the raven to enter if he wanted. The raven bobbed up and down before it made a decision, swooping past Jared into the room.
The temperature was noticeably warmer, even in the unheated cell. Wasting no time, he dropped most of his firewood off in the stack outside before crawling into his tent to drop off the rest. He returned to close and relock the courtyard door.
There was a rattle at the main hall door and Jared’s heart was in his throat before he realized it was just The Mountain, dropping off his supper through the slot.
He grabbed up the trencher, finding strips of cured ham and a few boiled potatoes and cabbage on a thick slice of home-cooked bread. He inhaled the delicious scent.
“I really need to get inside,” he explained to the raven. “Feel free to follow me, but it’ll be tight.” Jared shuffled inside and set his tray down. Fire was his first priority. He thanked the gods he’d gotten into the habit of always prepping his fireplace first thing in the morning after The Mountain or Weasel had dropped off breakfast. It was simply a matter of a few scrapes of his flint, and soon he had a fire burning merrily. He removed his snowy blanket and spread it out to dry, and slid off his thin boots and two pairs of socks. His toes were numb and icy to the touch. He maneuvered himself so they were near the fire. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as the circulation started to return. He had been foolish staying out so long. He could only pray he didn’t have frostbite. To distract himself, he scooped up his trencher and started in on his supper. His first mouthful of ham was orgasmic.
“Oh, my gods!” he mumbled around the delicious mouthful. It was simple fare, but hot and tasty.
“Graw, graw” from his tent’s entrance had him staring in surprise. He watched in amazement as the raven wiggled in under the shirt draped over the entrance. It stood there, head tilting and turning as it inspected his living quarters.
“Not much, I know, and the headspace is terrible, but it’s warmer than out there.” Jared grinned, shoveling another mouthful in.
The raven croaked.
“Oh you approve, do you. Good to know.”
“Graw, graw.”
The large bird settled down, perfectly at home.
Jared stared at him curiously. He hadn’t known any ravens before, but this had to be strange behavior for one. “So, what’s your name?”
“Graw, graw.”
“Too long, I’m not going to call you that. How about Tudo, after the god of travelers, or Frakus for the god of storms, hmmm? Oh, there’s Jawa like the great firebird. No? What about Loki, god of mischief?”
The raven said nothing, only looked away pointedly. How smart IS this raven? Jared thought. “Not interested, eh? You’re not a fellow who wants to be named after a god? All right then, how about: Peta, I knew a Peta once, nice guy. Or Cam. Then there’s Jargo, our head smithy back in the castle. Dalgo, he looks after our horses. What about Hala, one of the busboys in the kitchen…No? Or Jen…”
“Grack”
The raven’s sudden interruption startled Jared. So much so that he had to scramble to remember what the last name was. “So-Jen, you’d like to be called Jen?”
“Grack”
“Very well then, Jen it is.” Jared wiggled his toes, where color and feeling were returning.
“Well, I’m not doing that again.”
“Grack?”
“Stay outside so long in the cold. I could have lost a toe.”
The raven cawed.
“Yes, bad indeed.”
Jared was weary by the time he finished his meal. He licked his plate clean and then pulled on some dry socks. Grabbing the small bronze bowl, he crawled outside. Jen followed him.
After a drink and a pee, he hobbled over to the hall door to leave his plate, then carefully filled his bowl with water.
The raven, perched on his trunk, ruffled its feathers.
“That time, is it?”
“Graw, graw.”
“Well, thank you for joining me. I do enjoy our talks. You’re a good listener.”
The bird nodded and flew off. Jared stood there for a few seconds watching the snow fall through his window. It was going to be a big storm. He was glad he’d grabbed the extra wood while he could. Between his feet and the cold he would be staying put as much as he could for a couple of days.
Crawling back inside his warm tent, Jared decided to forgo his promised bake-off and conserve his fuel. He might need to keep his fire going all day tomorrow, so every stick would count. He set the bronze bowl next to the fire and dropped in a bit of the loose tea leaves and berries. The tent filled with the lovely aroma of gooseberry tea. Drowsy with heat and good food, Jared added another log on the fire, arranged his bedding, and slipped in. He sipped his tea and watched his marble spin in the firelight until he drifted off. It had been a good day.
¤ ¤ ¤
As he’d expected, the storm raged for several days. Jared only left his tent when he needed to. And even with his bonus wood supply it would be tight; the cold was forcing him to keep the fire burning longer each day.
By the end of the week his firewood was down to the last stick. When The Mountain and the Weasel came for their weekly re-supply, he screwed up his courage. “Please, could I have more firewood? It’s only getting colder, and I’m afraid I’m going to freeze to death here.”
The Mountain only grumbled.
“I think you should give him some. The master will have our heads if he freezes to death.”
“He’s already nothin’ but skin n’ bones. No meat on his bones to keep ‘im warm. Maybe if you fed ‘im more, he wouldn’t need so much wood,” The Mountain snarled back.
Jared’s stomach took that opportunity to growl loudly.
The Weasel must have listened, because later he left an extra apple with his porridge. The Mountain said nothing, but he did bring two extra loads of wood.
The week went by slowly. Jared read and slept. When the weather was good enough, he ventured outside to the courtyard and gathered extra wood from the storeroom. If he was careful it should last a few more weeks. Even with The Mountain’s largesse, he still wasn’t getting enough wood to keep the fire going as long as he’d like.
He started taking brisk walks, just to keep his muscle tone up. He needed something to burn off all the nervous energy. He kept to the ground level and covered areas. As he strode through the abandoned hallways, he found staircases to the basement, and long, unobstructed runs. He considered fleetingly moving down there, but it was so damp, it might even be worse than where he was. But for now it was a good track to walk and not risk slipping on ice. Scrounging for wood, he found a small keg hidden behind some empty barrels. It was still full. Gleeful, he scooped it up and brought it back to his tent.
After supper that night, he decided to taste whatever was in that keg. It was dark red and bitter, and burned all the way down. He choked and coughed. It was nothing like the wine or beer his mother let him have at dinner on important occasions. But this new liquid left the most lovely glow in his belly. He heated and drank a bowl of the stuff and then giggling, drank another.
The raven arrived sometime during the second bowl. He heard it caw from outside the door flap.
“Come in, come in!” Jared said gleefully. He hadn’t seen the raven much this last week, but then Jared had barely wanted to poke his head out, either. “Come, join me for some of this excellent brew.” The raven wiggled under the entrance and strutted over to Jared’s half-empty bowl of wine.
“Have a drink with me, my friend.” Jared waved his hand at the bowl, but the bird only cocked its head before it stepped back. “A teetotaler, are you? Well, thass okay. More for me!” Jared started to giggle again. His voice sounded slurred even to his own ears, but everything was just so funny.
“Did I ever tell you what a good friend you’ve been? ‘Cause you have. Think I’d have gone cuckoo! if it weren’t for you.” Jared took another drink, pouring half of it down his shirt front.
The raven hopped. “Augh!”
“‘S okay, ‘s okay, I have more.” He poured the last of the keg into his bowl. “Din’t understan’ why adults drink so much of this stuff, but it suuure has its bene- benefits. I feel sooo toasty inside.”
“Grack”
“Did I ever tell you about the boy I know with your name? Interesting coincidence, right? You’re Jen, and he’s Jensen of Ackles.” Jared burped suddenly, then giggled hysterically.
Jared shook his head. “That wasn’t funny. But seriously, he was sooo beautiful. Even’cross the room. You could…you could see how beautiful he was. And his eyes! His eyes were beautiful, too…Green. Just like yours, huh? You’re lucky, ya know, to have eyes with a color people can name. Chad says I have klyd-a-scope eyes. They can’t make up their mind what color they are. But Jensen’s, Jensen’s were puurfect.
“Like him. Lookin’ at him was different. Made me feel funny, like butterflies loose in my belly. But hot, too. How do you do that? Be fluttery and hot at the same time? I think about him almost every night.” Jared sighed and rolled onto his back. “I wish I’d got to talk to him. Hear his voice…I bet it’s as beautiful as the rest of him. But his father took him away. Shame, ‘cause I’m gonna marry him…We’d be really happy together…someday…. when I get back…”
He didn’t remember the raven leaving or even falling asleep. He dreamt of The Mountain and the Weasel chasing him down endless corridors. Terrible dreams. He flailed in his sleep and woke with a scream.
The pitch-black room was freezing. Drunk, he’d let his fire go out. Groggily he fumbled for his kindling in the dark, dropping everything. He eventually had to start the fire with his powers and put extra precious timber on his fire in case he passed out again. He flopped back on his bed and burrowed into his blankets.
He slept in well past noon and woke with a terrible headache. His porridge had frozen solid by the door. He had to waste more wood heating it up and spent a miserable afternoon huddled in his blanket, aching all over. He swore off alcohol forever.
¤ ¤ ¤
More weeks slipped by. Jared’s hair had grown so long he had to tie it back. There were other changes, too. His clothes were hanging loosely on his frame, while his pants legs were getting short. He was going through a growth spurt. He must have grown several inches judging by the length of his pants, and he was hungrier than ever. He worried he might starve to death at this rate. Hungry and at times disoriented, he had eaten through his supply of hoarded apples. Still hungry, Jared roamed the cold empty hallways and spaces in the vain hope of finding an overlooked door to the outside. Loneliness ached in his bones. He constantly thought about home and Jensen and getting free.
To conserve calories he shortened the length of his walks, but he couldn’t give them up completely. They were one of the two things that kept his dwindling spirits up.
The second was the raven. His green-eyed friend continued to visit him regularly. Jared wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, since sometimes the raven looked larger or smaller or older. Undernourished as he was, anything was possible. But the bird still acted the same, answered him, and had the same green eyes.
One night he felt sick, and in the morning he woke with a cough that wouldn’t let go. He crept outside his tent and found a good six inches of snow on the floor near the window, the mountains in the grip of yet another fierce winter blizzard. Immediately, he knew there would be no exploring today. He quickly grabbed his breakfast and returned to his tent. He’d hunker down and try to stay as warm as he could.
But Jared’s cough worsened over the next few days, and he couldn’t seem to stay warm. Chills shook his body, no matter how warm he kept his shelter. He knew things had taken a turn for the worse when the inside of the tent started to turn. One morning he was so dizzy that he stumbled while retrieving his breakfast. His hands trembled so badly when he tried to bring water in to heat it, his bowl was barely half full by the time he got inside., The hot gooseberry tea, his only comfort, seemed to soothe his troubled breathing.
One night he couldn’t go get his supper because the room was spinning so hard. His feathered friend arrived; he heard the raven announce itself but didn’t have the energy to respond. The next thing he remembered was the bird’s alarmed “clikkkkk clikkkk,” after it nudged its way inside the tent. It poked at Jared’s hand. Distantly, Jared noticed that the fire had burnt desperately low, but all he could do was shiver in his nest of blankets.
“Sorry, Jen, just so tired. So tired,” he mumbled and burrowed deeper into his blankets. He felt Jen’s wing brush against his cheek.
After that everything was a blur as he swam in and out of consciousness. He remembered shivering, his teeth chattering so hard that he worried he might break a tooth, then the raven’s “Graw, graw,” and the flutter of wings. Feathers again touched his cheeks. Then warmth, blessed warmth.
A long period of darkness and bad dreams. Dimly, Jared wondered if he was dying. Then he’d forget to wonder even that as he’d lose his train of thought until he swam to consciousness again. It went on like that for a long, long time, slipping in and out of murky unconsciousness.
The first time he felt alert and clear, he woke up in front of a roaring fire. He glanced up, but this was not his tent. He blinked. For some reason he was in the main hall covered in blankets, warm bricks at his feet. Truly warm for the first time in months.
“You should a’ seen it, Grath,” the Weasel was explaining. “There must have been hundreds of them, all over the kid, like a feather blanket. Never seen nothin’ like that in me life.”
“What are you talking about?” The Mountain groused.
“The kid, the kid. Some crow been squawkin’ in the hallway for hours. I went ta investigate, and noticed the full trays. The kid didn’t eat nothin’ for the last two days. So, I opened the door and called his name. Not a peep out of him in his little kingdom. I threw the roof off and found him inside, covered with crows. Crows, I tell you! Once the roof was off his little squat, they erupted like a demon horde and took off out the window. The kid was just lyin’ there, delirious. White as a ghost he was. He’s been sick the whole time since. I thought he might die on me.”
“I go hunting for three days, and you almost kill our charge.”
“Weren’t me. It was your lazy ass too buggered to give the kid enough firewood to heat the room.”
Through blurry vision, Jared could see The Mountain and the Weasel looming over him.
“He’s startin’ to come ‘round finally. I been filling him with soup and keepin’ him warm. It’s the best I can do here.”
“Humph. Weren’t just me that was negligent. You need to be feedin’ him more.” The Mountain nudged at Jared’s bony hand, which had fallen outside the blankets. “He’s all skin and bone.” The Mountain grunted and swam out of his field of view.
Jared’s eyelids fluttered closed, too hard to keep them open. Sleep and warmth were tugging him under, but Jared tried to cling to the Weasel’s story. He didn't want to forget. Jen had saved him. He had brought his friends and kept Jared warm. Alive.
¤ ¤ ¤
They returned him to his cell four days later. Jared was surprised to see some significant changes had been made. The Mountain had tripled the amount of wood along the wall, and heavy velvet drapes hung by the little window and could be pulled closed at night by long sticks. More drapes hung across the doors to keep drafts out.
Jared’s tent had been re-assembled, but this time with a fur pelt draped over the top, much better insulation than Jared’s extra clothing.
When Jared crawled inside, he found they’d put an extra mattress on top of the old one so he would be more comfortable. And a fire was already burning with firewood stocked beside the hearth.
Jared pulled his mother’s quilt over him. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
It took him weeks to feel more like himself again. By then, the worst of winter had passed, and the snow had turned to rain. Jared took a good sniff of himself, thought What the hell?, and ran out into the courtyard to stand in the rain. He used one of his blocks of soap to wash his hair. It felt wonderful to be clean. The rain was only a little cold, so he stripped down and took the opportunity to wash himself fully and scrub his clothing clean as he could in the reflecting pond.
He left his clothes hanging on a tree limb in the rain to make sure the soap was rinsed from them and ran inside, hopping as he pulled off his wet socks and crawled inside his tent to change.
That night he lay watching the fire.
The raven cocked its head quizzically when it entered the tent.
“Spring is here, Jen. I thought it was time I got cleaned up. Do I smell better?”
“Grack”
Jared chuckled before growing more serious. “I’m worried.”
He ran his tongue over his lips as he considered what he was going to say next.
“I don’t think Omundson is going to let me live to see my sixteenth birthday. He would never let me come into my full powers. Potentially, I could be a huge threat to him. I need to get out of here before he has the Weasel or The Mountain kill me.
The raven croaked in agreement.
“I’m just not sure what to do. You wouldn’t have any ideas, would you?”
“Graw, graw.”
The bird hopped over to where Jared had stashed his clothing and sewing supplies in the trunk. Very deliberately, the raven picked up one of the large darning needles his mother had hidden in the quilt for him.
Mesmerized, Jared watched him. This was no wild bird picking an object at random; there was intelligence at work.
The raven hopped over to Jared’s mother’s quilt and made a dipping gesture as it held the needle in its beak. Then it hopped an inch over and did the same. Then again.
Jared licked his lips. He knew this was important. The bird stared at him.
“You want me to sew up one side of my mother’s quilt?”
The raven bobbed its head.
Jared tried to imagine what sewing up one side would do. It would make a sleeping bag of sorts.
“So turn it into a sleeping bag?”
“Graw, graw.”
“But then I wouldn’t be able to use it as a cape.”
The bird cackled sourly.
“To what end?”
The raven very deliberately dropped the needle on the hearthstones and then jumped onto the quilt. He gripped the material in its claws and started to flap its wings. In the small space Jared jerked his head out of the way just in time, but he could see the quilt lifting into the air.
He sat there gap-mouthed as what the raven was trying to tell him started to sink in.
“Oh my gods! And you think that could work?”
“Graw, graw.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Jared thought about the raven’s idea constantly. The fact that he was even considering a bird’s advice to begin with seemed insane. But setting that aside, what did he have to lose? The raven’s crazy plan might have him plummeting to his death, but if he stayed here, he was equally dead by The Mountain or the Weasel’s hands. At least with this idea there was a chance of success, and Jared already knew the raven could rally the other birds. Staying where he was, there was no hope. So, he did the only thing he could: he set to work sewing his quilt into a sleeping bag with the last of his heavy twine. All in, he also started to think about supplies and next steps once he was free of the castle.
He’d need food and as many clothes as he could wear. And he’d need to move fast. The Mountain and the Weasel weren’t fools, and the new supply rotation had them coming every five days instead of seven. He’d need to be ready to go after their next visit.
Food was an immediate priority, so he started saving the apples again that the Weasel included now with every meal. Nothing much else would last long enough to take, but he did still have the beef jerky, which he’d managed to hold off eating in hopes he would find a way out.
He explained his proposed timing to the raven the following evening.
“The Mountain and the Weasel will be coming in three days. Could you be ready right after that?”
The raven croaked in agreement.
For added strength Jared used his eating dagger to cut his leather vest and his one pair of leather pants into strips, which he braided into rope. He wound the rope around the sleeping bag, securing it at regular points and tying the two ends securely together. He tugged on the bag - lots of spots for raven claws to anchor to, he hoped. His fingers were stiff and aching by the time he was done, but he was satisfied he’d taken every precaution he could to make the sleeping bag as sturdy as possible.
Jared didn’t think it was his imagination that The Mountain and the Weasel were acting a bit subdued when they next came to resupply him. Something was up. After they left, he packed and crept out into the courtyard with everything he was going to take. The raven was waiting, its green eyes setting it apart from its brethren that were already filling the trees.
“Wait! There’s something I have to do first,” Jared explained as he dropped his bedroll and the fur pelt he’d taken off the top of the tent to wrap his few supplies in.
With a throaty rumble, the raven nodded, and Jared sprinted to the staircase where he’d first been able to overhear the men in the great hall. Since discovering it, he’d made a habit of dropping by regularly to see what snippets of information he might overhear, but nothing of note had come up before.
“Don’t seem right,” the Weasel was saying. “He’s a good kid.”
“You wanna take his place?”
“No, no. I hear ya.”
“Then we pack up and get ready to leave day after tomorrow. Boss wants to meet us at the Forks just before the Lowertown bridge. That’s where the accident will happen.”
That was more than enough for Jared.
He returned to the courtyard, numb with shock. It was one thing to think they were going to murder him, another thing completely to hear them planning it so casually. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but it was still an ugly thing. He nodded at the waiting raven.
“Do you want me here, or should I move up to the battlements?” Realizing it was too complex a question, Jared said, “Here?” then pointed, “Or there?”
The raven’s rumble of approval was instantaneous when he pointed at the battlements.
Jared’s stomach fluttered nervously as he climbed the steps. He turned and took one last look around. The pond in the center of the courtyard was running clear, and the tree limbs hanging over it were very close to blossoming even though there was still a chill in the air. He wouldn’t miss this place, he acknowledged. Nothing much good had come from being here, but he had managed to survive with some semblance of dignity. He could be proud of that.
He looked down at himself. After six months here, he was stripped down to skin and bone, he could only hope he still had the stamina and energy to reach safety. He tied back his long hair and huffed out a breath. Time to take back his life.
Dropping his supply bag on the ground, Jared climbed into his sleeping bag. As an added precaution he used both hands to help hold the seams together. Once he was settled- “I’m ready!”
With one sharp click from Jen, the gathered ravens took to the air. Like a black cloud they descended on Jared, a cloud of wings and claws. He felt talons catching on the quilt and ropes, and sometimes skin, as each raven vied for purchase. And then slowly, oh so slowly, he was being lifted. He sent out a prayer to Fragga, god of lost causes, and closed his eyes, his fists in a death grip on the quilt. He thought he heard a seam rip, but raven claws quickly repositioned themselves, and they kept moving. His upward momentum sped up, then shifted. He imagined them clearing the merlons, and now they were in a controlled fall.
His heart was beating out of his chest as he tried to estimate how long it would take to reach the ground. He felt another seam give way, and his heart skipped a beat. He expected to plummet to his death any moment now, ending in a grisly, broken heap. He kept his eyes shut and held his breath as another seam gave way. He wondered how many feet he’d fall….
There was a dire ripping sound, and the unkindness of ravens lurched as one, but there was only a small thump as they settled Jared not ungently onto the damp ground.
Jared unclenched his numb fingers and wormed out of the bedroll. The ravens were already disappearing into the trees by the time he stood. He was in a grassy area with only a few patches of snow still remaining. Only Jen remained, watching him from a nearby tree. The castle wall loomed behind.
He was free.
He sent out a prayer of thanks. “It worked!!!” Jared laughed. “Gods damn, your plan worked, Jen!”
“Clikkkkk clikkkk.” The raven warned and flew toward the encroaching forest.
Jared hurriedly gathered his supplies, slinging them over his shoulder. The raven was right. It was dangerous to tarry. He could celebrate later, far from his captors’ sight.
He gauged the sun's position. Castle Omun must be further north than Padalonia. He needed to go south as fast as his legs could carry him. He set off in the direction the raven had flown into the forest.
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