On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

Side One Hundred And Five – The Raven Knight

The far reaches of the Fae Realms are bleak indeed… The Raven Knight shook his head in disgust as his jaundiced yellow eyes surveyed the landscape. The lush forests of the land of the Fae had given way to dead groves of skeletal trees, bark bleached bone-white, leafless branches spread out like dead arms, welcoming visitors to death. A river ran beside him, though the water was black and filled with choking reeds and muck, and so cold, so terribly cold, that it was a wonder it was not frozen.

“For me to be forced to come to this accursed place…” he spoke, his words shockingly loud in the silence around him. Pulling his black-feathered wings around his body, he wondered where it had all gone wrong.

I let my hatred of the Fae, especially their royal lines, blind me to my greater goal. I was just so angry that the White creature betrayed me. Yes, I sensed her endless hunger, but even so… we had a deal, bound by the power of a Roman God. Roman. He sneered bitterly. The Romans were no friends of his, but he could still admire their prowess at governance, battle and more. They ruled better than Grandfather ever did…

“No, it is not my fault! It is simply impossible to remove the hatred from my heart. Many times I have been persecuted by the Fae, both the fair folk of the Seelie Court, and the dark, bitter creatures of the Unseelie.” He spoke as if to absolve himself, but it was mere hollow reassurance. “My father too, and grandfather, both were cheated by the Fae. In fact, my very birth…” angry now, he reached for the shattered sword at his waist. The blade was made of unearthly metal, a son to a greater blade, but even that had not prevented the breaking of the metal, and only a few inches of jagged steel remained attached to the hilt, the metal glittering with ruddy spots and streaks under the glowing light of the massive moon above. “Curse them all. Curse them!”

Curse them. His thoughts naturally strayed to the past, and as he trudged through the dead lands surrounding him, searching for any sign he was close to the hidden, always moving realm he sought, he could almost see the distant past, his memories so clear it was as if she was before him again.

“You shall never find success, dear nephew.” The speaker was fey and terrible, her beauty sure, pale skin and eyes that shifted colour from green to blue to brown, matching her hair that was at some times red, others a deep black. “After all, your birth itself was a sin, an aberration. Neither human nor Fae, yet not a half-breed either, like those foolish enough to fall for the honeyed words of the fair folk, or the dark seduction of the fallen ones. No, you are more half-human, half cursed.” She laughed then, her expression wicked and seductive, and he shuddered, having to drive the edge of his shattered sword into the flesh of his leg to keep from being mesmerised.

“Oh, you are no fun, dear nephew.” She sneered, the stink of sorcery diminishing, aether dying around her. “So, you wish to know, do you? Why everything you try fails?”

“Yes, great-aunt.” He had grated, bitterly regretting having to seek out this relative of his, one that he held half-responsible for the ruin of his family, the unfair slanders of history. Only half, though. The other was her, Fae whore who had meddled with his family from the start, setting them on the path to ruin.

“Great-aunt?” her voice hardened instantly, suddenly frigid as the winter in the northern mountains. “Do I look as old as that, nephew? Simply call me… aunt. I will not stand for anything else.”

At her threatening tone, he had conceded, hating himself anew. “Yes… aunt.” he resolved then to think of her as such from now to the day he would finally wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life from her, if it would get him the answers he sought.

“Very good.” She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek, and her skin was equally scalding and frigid, her lack of humanity clear through her touch. “My poor nephew, born under such unfortunate stars. No, moons would be more apt. Yes.” She smiled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “I know your curse. It is the curse of  self-destruction, that plagued your grandfather and father. After all, they brought their own doom upon themselves. You shall do no less, my dear nephew.”

He had screamed back then, incensed. “No, it was the meddling from you and that Fae! Him too, the accursed so-called wisest master of the arts. It all started going wrong then!”

“You are your father’s son, definitely.” His aunt smiled maliciously. “He was always blaming others for his own sins and failures. Just like his father before him. And your grandmother, and mother…”

“I will not hear you slander them, not you as well! You should know the truth, not the false history that has been…”

“Enough.” Her dread voice cut off his rants. “You are not to accuse me, nephew. You sought me out to know the truth, did you not? Well, the truth of your curse is, it is one of self-sabotage. All you attempt will fail, lest you find a way to unpick it from your very being.” She sniffed. “It is even beyond me to untangle, loath as I am to admit it. The Dark Queen of Pandemonium, perhaps she could… though the price would be more than you are willing to pay, I dare say.”

“Useless.” He had cried out in rage at his relative, and her gaze was cruel and lacking pity in return.

“Useless? I grant you information you need to know, and this is how you thank me, dear nephew? I see we are done here. Begone. Do not darken my door again unless you have an attitude more befitting one seeking a favour.” With that she had raised a hand, and he was thrown out of her hidden home. As he was flung away by a surge of wind, the air glittering with a million jade and emerald sparks, he heard her last words to him, the last he had exchanged with her. “If you ever see your brother once again, give him my regards…”

Shaking his head to rid them of unpleasant memories, the Raven Knight continued his journey. “Perhaps I am accursed.” He snarled, darkness gathered around his body, shattering the tangled undergrowth that tried to hinder his path. “I let arrogance, in using Unseelie Arts when mere violence would have sufficed, allow that mortal brat and the whore daughter of Shaetanao to slip through my grasp. Though admittedly, I was far weaker, down in the shallow waters of the Boundary.” Here in the depths of the lower astral, his strength was nothing to mock, and as if to demonstrate, lances of glittering deep blue energy pierced the forest, trees collapsing, the few Fae animals that inhabited the barren, dead lands scattering, only to be consumed, darkness reaping their lives.

Regret is a painful thing. The Dark Rhyming Tree was an integral part of his plans, so he needed it back. And apparently it had been offered to him, though he had barely listened to the words that creature White was saying, so consumed by rage he was. When it came to matters of the Fae, it was impossible to keep his cool. It all started with them. No, I cannot trust them. Never. His hands clenched into fists, his breath rasping fast, rage boiling within at the very thought of it. I have waited over a millennia to succeed, I can wait longer, to do it with my own hands, not rely on the charity of the Fae who started this mess, left me like… this. He spat, foul saliva staining the mud. No, when I do succeed, the Seelie, the Unseelie, all of them will regret what they did to my family, me. Though perhaps… maybe it was another bitter act of self-sabotage, turning aside what he needed as he hated the giver. Even so, it was impossible for him to change now, not after so many long years of hatred. It was then he heard something, a series of soft movements, and with a sneer, hidden behind his mask, he called out.

“The interruption was most welcome, as I was wallowing in my bitter regrets, not for the first time. However, if you think me easy prey, I will show you the error of your judgement.”

It was then that a group of foul goblins, clutching a series of cleavers, daggers and axes, all stained with foul, dark liquids, moved from the shadows into his sight. They were wearing long, red hats, similar to a clown or a jester, and their faces were twisted into leering grins of mocking amusement.

Red Caps? I see. It seems I have found who I was looking for. Confident, the Raven Knight sighed. “Members of the Wild Hunt, I have come seeking an audience with your Huntmasters. I come bearing gifts of information the Hunt must surely seek to know.” He paused meaningfully. “Oh, and call back your Silent Hounds. I can feel them.”

The largest goblin wasn’t wearing a red hat, but a black one, ornate, the trailing fabric reaching the ground. In one hand he held a lantern which burned with violet flames. He stepped forwards, and the Raven Knight tensed.

“Nah, hah. No.” the Black Cap declared, waving his lantern, and the Raven Knight could feel a powerful, unusual energy radiating from it. “Those who chance upon the Wild Hunt must be hunted. It is why we exist!”

At that the goblins hooted with mocking laughter, and he could hear growls of amusement from the hidden Hounds as well. They dare mock me? How… aggravating. Well, I should have expected this. The Wild Hunt is even more belligerent than the Unseelie Court. I suppose a show of strength is necessary. Behind his beaked mask, his lips curled up into a smile, his yellow eyes gleaming with ferocity. “I see. Well, perhaps I should thank you. This might be what I need to take my mind off…”

“Slay him!” the Black Cap howled, and the Red Caps rushed in, the Silent Hounds too.

“Insolence! Allow me to finish speaking before you…” once more his words were cut off. A Red Cap swung at him, blade gleaming with dark poison, and he slid aside. “This is my true power!” he roared, and piercing feathers of blue energy glittered, spinning out like saw blades, and the Red Cap was bisected, disintegrating. Howls and barks were heard as blood scattered like raindrops, the blizzard of feather-blades around him striking down even invisible foes.

Yes, if I could use my powers without being here in the Fae lands, that bitch daughter of the weasel would be dead. Though to think the White one said she was much stronger now, the mortal too, strong enough to trouble even her… he dodged a group of Red Caps, breathing out, a mist of corrosive energy starting to dissolve their skin. Space warped, as the Black Cap waved his violet lantern, and the Raven Knight leapt aside, shoving a Red Cap into the path of the twisting space, watching with some amusement as it was crushed into a ball of gore, screaming all the while.

“Curse you!” the Black Cap hooted, enraged.

I already am cursed, fool. His thoughts turned back to the White creature, that abomination he had placed his hopes in. As he unleashed dark blasts of energy and feather-blades, he realised that there were too many to kill in small numbers, so he resorted to Unseelie Arts. “First Weal. Gather From The Fallen.” At his words, wisps of blue light were pulled from the numerous dead and dying goblins and hounds. The White creature was greedy, but I do not think she was a liar. So, somehow that pathetic child of Shaetanao has grown strong. Impossible as it seems, it must be the case. Perhaps her mongrel bloodlines awakened in some strange synergy? “First Woe. Lake Of Vile Poison!” Around him the gathered energy radiated, the ground turning into a shimmering, shallow lake of acidic sludge. The Silent Hounds which had survived his bombardment of feathers were thrashing and writhing in the burning slime, giving him a great deal of satisfaction.

“Second Weal. Under A Dark Moon.” Looking up at the empty skies, only the nigh ever-present moon filling it, he felt bathed in energy, strong enough to take on any foe. Though that is an illusion. There are many I cannot face, even at my strongest. Such as my dear aunt… and of course, debts have to be paid back in kind… Remembering the cruel backlash when he failed to kill the mortal who stole his Tree, the Raven Knight grabbed at a Red Cap, snapping its neck while it struggled. Tossing aside the dead creature, he stabbed out with his broken sword, finishing a dying hound. “Well then. Time to assuage my anger. Second Woe. Jaws Of The Questing Beast!”

A surging tooth-ringed maw erupted from the murk, many times greater in scale than what he had been able to conjure in the aether-starved Boundary. His body burned, borrowed energy wrung from Unseelie Arts leaving, but this time there were no mistakes, no backlash. The towering worm snatched numerous prey, teeth longer than spears piercing goblin and hound alike, hoisting them high into the sky as it swallowed, grinding them to bloody fragments.

“You should have let me speak. I had no wish to kill so many members of the Wild Hunt, not when I bring information to trade. Well, so be it. I am used to setbacks.” Though this one can hardly be blamed upon my unfortunate wyrd, my curse. No, this is merely idiotic anger and rage. I can understand it. “Farewell.” He closed his fist, and the Questing Beast swallowed one final time, fading away, leaving silence… and one, solitary Black Cap, who was injured, one arm gone, but still alive, his lantern wobbling in an unsteady hand as he glared at the Raven Knight with malice in his eyes.

“Oh, you survived? Impressive.” He mocked the lone survivor. “Though enough died to pay the woe many times over. So, are you ready to listen now? I have business with the…”

“… Huntmasters, yes.” A growling voice said, and the Raven Knight spun, irritated at being interrupted again. His angry retorts died in this throat though, as the massive wolves, easily overtopping him in height, strode forwards, eyes on him looking with a mixture of curiosity and anger.

Barghests. Three of them. Winning is not impossible, but against three at once…

“No need to be so tense.” The lead Barghest rumbled, before turning to the Black Cap. “Run on home. We can’t afford to lose any more lanterns. Now go, fool. I daresay your Packmaster will be wishing to discipline you.” At those words the goblin, already pale from blood-loss, blanched further, a comical sight due to the green skin it possessed.

Watching it scuttle away, amused, tongue lolling out, dripping rivulets of drool, the Barghest barked a laugh. “Well, what brings the fabled Raven of Ill-Fortune out to the very borders of the Fae lands, where all fear to tread? There must be a story here, hmm?”

The other two barked their agreement, and the Raven Knight gathered himself. I have exhausted my options for allies. I need to make this work. “Greetings, mighty Barghests. I… apologise for the violence, but I was forced to defend myself.” Apologising made him burn with anger, but even so, there was no other way. “All I wanted was to meet with the leaders of the Wild Hunt.”

“Well, these are not the first deaths we have had recently.” One Barghest smirked. “Our attempts to pierce the borders of the Seelie Court have hardly gone well.”

“But what does the famous Knight of the Ravens wish with us?” the next barked.

“Yes. Betrayed the Unseelie, hated by and loathes the Seelie. Poor little Raven, outcast everywhere you go.” The lead one chuckled, slobbering everywhere. “So, what brings you to our door, desperate and alone?”

Ignoring their slanders, true as they were, he took a deep breath. “I come to bargain. I have news that the Wild Hunt may find useful. Even more so if your Hunts have been failing lately.” I can succeed. I am more than just my curse, my bitter wyrd! “I wanted to bring tidings of a lone and vulnerable member of the Seelie royal lines. Were you to capture her, the by-blow daughter of Prince Shaetanao, well, your opportunities for exploiting her would be endless.” Send her to her father one piece at a time. That would be most fitting!

The three Barghests were silent for a moment, and triumph stated swelling within his heart, before joyous laughter erupted from them. As he stood there, uneasy and wondering what was transpiring, the lead Barghest spoke. “Your tidings are late, Raven. Perhaps you should learn to fly faster.” As it continued to mock him, the Raven Knight found the answer to his fears.

“The daughter of Shaetanao, she has returned in triumph to the Seelie Court, our infiltrators tell us.” he growled, furious. “Worse, somehow she has defeated Duke Myrcolaxriath and the Spring of Clear Reflections is once more back in Seelie hands.”

The Spring? Impossible. Mind reeling, hopes crumbling, the Raven Knight protested. “That cannot be, even if the White one said that she had grown stronger, that wasteland of death is impenetrable, unconquerable…”

“So we thought, too.” The Barghest agreed. “It was most surprising. But we are not alone in thinking this way. We cannot allow the Seelie Court to regain its former glories. And we are not alone in those thoughts. Several tribes of Fae who are linked to neither Court, much like you, Raven…” he sneered. “… have decided to come together, to plot an attack the likes of which has not been seen since the last war between the Courts. Already, the Fomorian tribes who stood aside from the battle at Salamandrastrae have consented to join us, as have the Poison Nymphs, the Hobs, and many others…”

As the Barghests spilled their information, the Raven Knight listened, rapt, not even wondering why they were sharing such with him, who had been their enemy mere moments before. When the plan was explained, he grinned, his mask hiding his joy. “Magnificent. It… it could work! It would lay low not only the forces of the Seelie Court, but drawing in the Unseelie…” his mind raced, thinking of the permutations. “It carries risk though. A great risk…”

“Of course. But we are the Wild Hunt. If the prey cannot fight back, where is the sport in that?” the Barghest laughed, tongue lolling joyously. “So, your information might be stale, but your prowess is sure. Would you care to aid this endeavour? If so, we can pay a modest price. Consider it a favour for a favour.”

A modest price? A Dark Rhyming Tree, surely they can secure me one… “Yes, I think I shall. After all, this is why I came here, to seek redress and retribution. If possible, I would still like to speak to the Huntmasters. I have other information that might be… fresher.”

“Of course, of course.” The Barghests spoke together. “Do follow us, and we shall find you suitable… hospitality.”

Aunt, I wonder if you are dwelling within the Dark Court still? If so, will our paths cross again at last? If they do… will I be able to make you repent, for the cruel fate you wrought upon my father and mother?