River of Crows: The Arcanium, #1

Prologue

Eldrin Duclanach plowed frantically through the dark undergrowth, gasping with every breath. Branches clawed at his face and hands and snagged on his clothes, but he barely noticed them. He needed to get home.

By the Goddesses, how could he have been so careless? He’d only been trying to do the right thing—to help an injured man. How was he supposed to have known that the man was a Siershasai’dan freedom fighter? Emperor Blackthorn had declared them enemies of Arcania, and anyone caught providing any kind of assistance to them was also considered a traitor and dealt with accordingly. It was an automatic death sentence, not just for the perpetrator, but for that person’s entire family.

He had to get back to his wife and son before the Guard did. Desperately, he tried to find some solution—any solution. They’d have to run. But where? Where could they go? The Guard was everywhere. There was nowhere to hide and not enough time to buy passage to Ordanna with an illicit portal, assuming he could even find a spinner to create a portal after the purge five years ago. Again, he cursed his utter foolishness. Kindness to strangers, as his wife kept reminding him fearfully, was a luxury no one could afford these days. It was just too dangerous.

He broke through the edge of the forest and into the fields that lay on the south side of the village. He stopped short, heart in his throat, when he saw the crows circling above the thatched roofs of the houses. Above his house, he knew, as surely as he knew his own name. Chest heaving, Eldrin dug his fingers into his sweat-soaked hair and tried to think. A quick count confirmed his worst fears; there were seven crows. Which meant the executioner was already here. He was too late.

He knew he should run. Now. But his feet remained rooted to the spot. His family—Annalise and Kieran—gone. A heartbroken sob escaped him. Oh, Goddesses, what have I done?

A moment later, the sky erupted in coarse bird calls and Eldrin knew that he’d been spotted. The soaring crows broke formation and sped toward him. Six of them began circling in the air above, while the seventh landed before him.

Eldrin dropped to his knees in the damp earth, too overcome with grief and shock to even attempt an escape. The two people he loved most in the world were most likely already dead; there was no point in running anymore.

He stared, in defeated detachment, as the black-feathered bird on the ground shimmered and transformed into a crouching man clad in garments darker than night. The man’s face, deeply recessed in the hood of his cloak, was obscured in shadow. He was eerily silent, making no noise as he rose to stand before Eldrin.

Please… Eldrin whispered, though without any real hope of mercy.

The man raised his right hand and a glowing, pulsating ball of orange light formed, hovering in the air above his outstretched palm.

A moment’s pause.

Tears of mourning spilled down Eldrin’s cheeks as he cast a last prayer into the uncaring night. He hoped that, somehow, his murdered wife and son would hear it before their spirits left this world.

Forgive me, my dearest hearts…

The executioner flung his arm forward and the ball of light flew like an arrow. It struck Eldrin in the chest, blasting his body backward. He knew no more.

The crows voiced their throaty cries, loud agitated crrraws alerting the terrified villagers, huddled silently in their homes, that the deed had been done. A warning that all who defied Emperor Blackthorn’s iron law would face an equal fate.

The shadowed figure eyed the body sprawled in the dirt dispassionately for another moment, then raised his head and spoke softly to the still-circling crows. Return to the house. Get the boy. Take him to the Citadel—the emperor is always in need of new recruits. Leave the woman’s body for the villagers to find. He watched the crows leave, obeying the order without hesitation or question. Then he shimmered again, returned to crow form, and flew off in the opposite direction. There were other things he needed to attend to before dawn, and this business had already taken more time than anticipated.

Chapter One

Ty Baxter sat slumped at the kitchen table, ignoring his increasingly soggy cereal. He stared out the window and gritted his teeth in frustration. Would this lecture never end?

Are you listening, Ty? His dad had that slightly exasperated tone that had become all too familiar to Ty over the past year.

Yeah, I’m listening, Ty muttered. This was so unfair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his fault that school was so dull that he had to find other ways to keep himself occupied.

His father glanced at him for a moment from behind the counter before returning his attention to the coffee he was pouring into his favorite mug, the bright red one with a cartoon moose wearing sunglasses. It was a cheesy design, but it was the biggest mug they had. Which meant it held the most morning coffee—that bitter potion without which, his dad insisted, humanity could not survive.

Paul Baxter was a tall man with close-cropped hair and skin a few shades darker than Ty’s own light brown tones. His black-rimmed glasses, impeccably pressed shirt, and understated tie made him look every bit the stereotypical studious professor that he was. He taught anthropology at one of the local universities.

And while Ty was actually proud of his dad—he knew how hard his dad had worked to get this teaching job—he just wished his dad would stop expecting him to love school as much as he did. First of all, Ty couldn’t imagine ever wanting to go to school long enough to get a PhD—why would anyone choose to go to school longer than they had to? And second of all, why would anyone want to stay in school forever by working at one and teaching other people?

It wasn’t that Ty hated school, or that he wasn’t good at it. He just found it hard to pay attention to his teachers’ endless droning about stuff that didn’t really matter to him. He wished he were already finished with school so he could do something that was actually interesting and exciting.

This is exactly what I’m talking about, his dad said. You need to pay more attention to your teachers. You’re a smart kid. I don’t understand what the issue is.

"It’s boring, Dad. I already know all the stuff they’re trying to teach us."

His dad sighed. You still need to pay attention in class.

Fine. Whatever.

Another sigh.

Ty rolled his eyes, still slumped over the table. He rested his head on his crossed arms, determinedly not looking at his father.

Look, I need you to stop making trouble. I can’t keep getting calls from your school.

Ty snapped his head up angrily. I’m not making trouble! I never make trouble! I don’t start fights, I don’t disrupt the class, I turn my stupid homework in on time. How is that making trouble? How am I making trouble? he protested.

They tell me you’re daydreaming and doodling. How do you expect to learn anything useful if you’re not going to listen to your teachers?

"Fine. I’ll pay more attention. Are we done now?"

Tyrone Baxter, mind your manners. I am trying to help you. If you want to go anywhere in life, you need to work hard and get a good education. Stop trying to coast and start applying yourself. It’ll make a difference.

Ty had the good graces to feel momentarily guilty. His dad was all about hard work and good grades, and it definitely wasn’t all talk. He’d been halfway through his doctorate degree when Ty’s mom had died, and he had suddenly become a single parent with a newborn baby to look after. So, he’d quit school and the part-time teaching assistant position he’d loved and accepted a boring, full-time office job with a construction company so that he could look after his son.

When Ty was old enough to go to school himself, his dad had resumed his own studies, taking one night-class per week and then working on his thesis. It had taken him four years to do it instead of just two, but he finally earned his PhD the year Ty turned nine. And then he landed his dream job as an assistant professor just a few months later.

Ty was twelve-and-a-half now, and his dad had been a full professor for just over two years and was already being considered for early tenure, meaning he’d never have to worry about his job again. Needless to say, his dad’s rise in the academic world had been swift and stellar.

So, yes, Ty was proud of his dad and everything that he had accomplished. And yes, his dad was a prime example of how hard work and dedication pays off. But all of that was just an awful lot to have to live up to. Ty was really sick of people telling him how great his dad was and how lucky he was to have such a wonderful role model in life. His dad was annoyingly perfect.

Sit up and eat your breakfast. Your cereal is getting mushy.

And just like that, Ty’s feelings of guilt vanished. He was about to reply with a snide remark about how his cereal would never have gotten mushy in the first place if he’d just been allowed to eat his breakfast in peace instead of having his morning ruined with a lecture, when he caught sight of a bird in the neighbor’s tree. It was Streak—a crow with one white feather that he had been trying to tame for months.

Ty checked his watch. His dad believed that smart phones, and pretty much everything else that normal kids took for granted, were bad influences that would negatively impact his schoolwork. After months of Ty steadily bombarding him with all sorts of excellent reasons why he should be allowed to have a phone of his own, his dad had finally, grudgingly, agreed that Ty could probably be allowed to have his own phone when he started high school. But that was still a long way off from October of seventh grade. Hence the watch to tell the time. It was just another thing that made Ty stand out at school. And that was never a good thing.

Seven thirty. If he hurried, he might be able to feed Streak some peanuts before he had to leave for school.

Ty? His dad’s voice broke in on his thoughts.

What? Ty said distractedly.

I said, do you want a ride to school this morning?

Oh. No. I’m going to take my bike, thanks.

All right. Finish your breakfast, then you’d better get going. Don’t be late, his dad warned. And don’t forget, it’s Thursday. I’m teaching my night class tonight, so I won’t be home until around eleven. There’s a plate of leftovers in the fridge that you can heat up for dinner. And don’t stay up too late—you have school tomorrow.

Okay… Ty obediently spooned a glob of cereal into his mouth, his attention still on the crow next door.

Chapter Two

By the time Ty finished breakfast and rinsed off his dishes, Streak had already flown away. He tried to console himself with the thought that he might still get a chance to feed Streak later; the bird often showed up in the evenings on his way to wherever it was crows go at night.

He rode his bike over to the parking lot of Newhaven Elementary School, expertly maneuvering around the concrete storage unit and big blue industrial dumpster at the back of the lot. He rolled his bike into the nearest slot of the mostly-empty bike rack that sat against the dilapidated chain link fence separating the soccer field from the teachers’ parked cars and snapped his lock into place.

He had just removed his helmet and fastened it to a loop on the front of his backpack when a smarmy, sneering voice sent a chill down his back that had nothing to do with the frostiness of the mid-October morning.

Oh look, it’s Loser Boy. How’s it going Loser Boy? the voice drawled, like a predator toying with its prey.

Ty turned around slowly, knowing he was in a bad spot. It was too early for any teachers to be patrolling the school yard yet, and the storage unit and dumpster would block the view of anyone pulling into the parking lot. In short, he was trapped unless he could squeeze through the hole in the chain link fence before Cooper Carson’s gang of bullies grabbed him.

Knowing his quarry had nowhere to run, Cooper pushed his mop of chestnut curls out of his broad face and grinned maliciously as his thugs spread out behind him.

Hi, Cooper, Ty said flatly. He took a careful step back, trying to edge himself closer to the hole in the fence without Cooper realizing what he was doing. He could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage.

A loud crow call sounded overhead, and Cooper, momentarily distracted, looked up. This was his chance! Ty spun on his heel and dove for the split in the fence, desperate fingers scrambling to pull the jagged edges apart so he could crawl through to the relative safety of the school yard beyond.

But he felt his sleeve catch and tear on the metal as he tried to squeeze himself through, and then several sets of hands yanked on his backpack. Ty lost his balance and tumbled sideways, to the sound of loud taunts and jeering laughter.

Two of the boys pulled his backpack off, then two more dragged him to his feet by his arms. Stop it! Leave me alone! Ty yelled, to no avail. The boys slammed him up against the fence, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping for air, Ty tried to come up with a plan—any plan that might save him from the imminent beating he was about to suffer.

What should we do with him, Coop? Omar Hamdi, Cooper’s second-in-command, asked with a smirk. He still had Ty’s right arm in a vise-like grip. Omar raised his chin as a signal to the other boy gripping Ty’s left arm, and they both let go and took a step back, cracking their knuckles threateningly to let him know what would happen if he tried to bolt again. Ty swallowed hard and shrank back against the chain-link fence, heedless of the cold metal wire pushing into his back. He did not notice the crow watching from high above.

The crow Ty had named Streak sat perched in one of the topmost branches of the overgrown spruce tree on the edge the parking lot, watching the five boys below. He was mostly interested in the smallest one, who, at present, was cornered by the other four. He could smell the fear coming off the child even from well above the impending conflict.

What do you want? the trapped boy demanded, perhaps in the hope that his attempted bravado would persuade the others to leave him alone. The slight quaver in his voice, however, betrayed his fear.

You know what I want, loser. You gotta pay your dues, the largest of the boys sneered. He smirked at his fellow thugs as his victim tried, unsuccessfully, to inch farther away from the advancing group.

I don’t have any money on me, Cooper! the boy said defiantly. The crow was impressed by his ability to remain calm—mostly—in the face of the ongoing threat.

No money? Well then, we’ll just have to see what else you got.

The sneer, decided the crow, seemed to be a permanent part of the largest boy’s expression.

Give me his bag! Without waiting for a response, the bully grabbed the backpack out of the hands of the boy on his left. He unzipped it and started pulling out the contents: a math textbook, a paperback novel, several comic books, a notebook, and a handful of assorted pens and pencils.

Is this all you got? He threw everything to the ground, kicking at it all in disgust. Where’s your phone, loser?

I don’t have one.

Liar—everyone has a phone. Where are you hiding it?

It’s probably in one of his pockets, suggested the boy on the left.

Well then you’d better get it from him! The bully’s sneer morphed into a look of cruel glee as his cronies grinned and began advancing on the smaller boy.

I don’t have one! I swear, Cooper, I’m not hiding anything! There was an edge of real panic in the younger boy’s voice now, and his fear-scent spiked.

CAW! Caw, caw, CAW! screeched the crow. Enough was enough. He launched himself off the branch and dove toward the lot below, swooping low over the heads of the bullies. Cawing loudly, he delivered a few well-placed pecks and talon-scratches as he flew by.

What the? Distracted, the gang of bullies momentarily forgot their objective and began waving their arms about, trying to ward off the avian threat. The smaller boy dropped to a crouch and covered his head.

The crow swerved in the air, then came around for another dive, pecking at the largest boy as soon as he was in range.

CAW! CAW! CAAAAAW!

Losing his nerve, the bully opted to save himself and ran away, leaving the others to fend for themselves.

Hey! Coop! Wait for us! yelped one of the boys, and the remaining gang members took off after their leader, spurred by the coarse cries and aggressive pecking of the agitated bird.

The crow flew in circles until, convinced the assailants weren’t going to return, he settled to the ground and stood still, his only movements the turning of his head as he examined the cowering boy with one bright, beady eye, then the other. Slowly, the boy lowered his hands and looked up in astonishment.

"Streak? Did you just…?" Ty wasn’t quite sure how to ask the question. He couldn’t believe that a bird had just saved him from an almost certain pounding by Cooper Carson and his gang of thugs.

Crrraw, said the crow.

Ty could have sworn it sounded… satisfied.

How—? Ty began, but the approaching sound of running feet sent the crow flying off in alarm, and Ty whirled around in a new panic. Had Cooper decided to come back?

Ty! There you are! I thought we were going to meet by the basketball court. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Ty breathed a sigh of relief—it was just Jackson.

The note of annoyance in Jackson’s voice morphed into concern as he took in Ty’s state. Are you okay? he asked. I just saw Cooper and the others run by like something was chasing them. Did they get you?

Ty stood up shakily. Hey, Jackson. Yeah, they got me. I’m okay, though, he said. He looked ruefully at his ripped sleeve. His dad was going to be mad about that. Just great. He sighed and retrieved his empty bag from where Cooper had tossed it to the ground.

Jackson dropped his own bag and began gathering up the scattered contents of Ty’s backpack. "Cooper is such a jerk. And he always gets away with it, too. It’s so unfair! Jackson sounded really angry, which was unusual for him. He was an easy-going kind of guy who tended to be the peacemaker in any classroom disagreements. Just because he’s in grade eight, he thinks he’s the king of everything," Jackson said.

King of the Troglodytes, maybe, Ty said bitterly.

Jackson smiled. Nice one! Troglodyte meant cave dweller or, alternatively, someone who was deliberately ignorant. Last Christmas, Jackson had received a Word of the Day calendar from his grandmother, and he and Ty had spent all year trying to outdo each other in their uses of each new word.

Ty ignored the compliment, angrily stuffing his belongings back into his bag as Jackson handed them over. It’s not just that he’s in grade eight, he ranted, "it’s because he’s twice as big as any of us—nobody has a chance against him!"

It really was unfair. Cooper wasn’t stupid enough to pull any of his stunts in front of the teachers, so he never seemed to get into trouble for his bullying. And nobody ever stood up to Cooper and his gang. There’d be no point. He was bigger, stronger, and meaner than anyone else. Everyone knew that fighting him would just result in a pounding, and Cooper would still take whatever he wanted from you when he was done beating you up anyway.

"Well, Sunil says Cooper’s bigger than everyone because he failed grade three twice at his old school, so he’s already fifteen. He’s supposed to be in grade ten," Jackson said.

Ty wouldn’t be at all surprised if the rumors about the overgrown bully were true. It would certainly explain his alarming size.

Hey, did you know that people with low IQ scores try to make themselves feel better about being such idiots by bullying other people? Jackson asked, in his best TV-game-show-host voice. It’s a little-known fact, he added.

You’re just making that one up, Ty said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face as he looked at his best friend. Jackson had an uncanny ability to recall obscure pieces of trivia at the drop of a hat, and he seemed to know something about almost everything. On occasion,