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Post by Nathaniel Devereaux on Jul 19, 2015 4:12:50 GMT -5
Welp, this is something I wrote a while ago, and have edited numerous Times since then. It's based on the version of a Danish myth I heard a few years back. Now that I've posted it, it seems too long for this format.
Valravn
My first recollection is a rising sun and a king’s heart in my beak, its coppery tang thick on my tongue. Strong, distinguished, even today the memory brings on cravings. As I tore strips of muscle from the warm flesh my awareness began to expand. It is an odd experience to suddenly become aware of oneself, to suddenly have an idea of self. Before that day I am aware of a past experiences but the memories are dull. There are faint memories of a first flight, and a mate I can’t quite picture. My life didn’t begin until I devoured the heart of a king.
I mantled over my prize as others swarmed the battlefield, delighting in the feast left by petty war. Thousands dead, left out for us to gorge upon. We all took joy in our meals, but mine was something more than food. The cries of the dying suddenly meant more, I felt no pity or remorse, but there was understanding. To me this was a festival full of sights and sounds a wealth of new experiences, but to the abandoned men who cried for help, I knew it was torment.
As we gorged, the enemies and allies of the dead came to disturb us. They searched not for tender flesh, but the meaningless ornamentation that adorned it. As they tore metal from cloth and my congress alighted, I fed. Blind to their approach, so overwhelmed by the taste of a king’s blood and my new understanding, I could not spare my attention for their actions.
Surrounded by humans, I swallowed the last strip of flesh and haughtily eyed those who would disturb me. Sated, I leapt towards the skies, only to collapse in the blood soaked mud. Try as I might, spreading my wings with all my might, it was all to no avail. The scavengers to some small joy in my plight, cruel laughter countered the anguished cries of the dead. The blood of the king had taken my flight from me, I felt the sun leech away my strength as my newfound knowledge weighed me down.
When the human looters descended on the body of their king, I admit to some panic, and my escape was without grace. I could barely manage short hops across the ground as I rapidly flailed my wings. I dare say that I provided more fodder for their amusement; a bird as large as I, crying out in panic and stumbling along the ground.
When I found safety amongst the trees, I came to realise the humans were not the1 only ones to whom I offered my humiliation. My fellow ravens were let their opinions be known with shrill laughter. How it infuriated me! I screamed out, letting my rage spill forth.
“Silence!”
Instead of peace I was granted chaos. They took to the air all at once crying their panic. My call had surprised them; I had not called out with the voice of a Raven, but the voice of a man.
Without the jeers of my fellows to keep me company, I could ruminate in peace. No longer was I merely a raven, but something more. Noble as the Raven is, I had become something more. My transformation brought new life to my senses, but even as I savored the lingering blood on my tongue, I craved something more. I had feasted on the heart of a king but I needed something sweeter. In the same way that I could speak the tongue of man, I knew that the sweetest blood of all would come from the heart of a child.
With that thought to give me guidance and the unreasoning hunger to drive me, I set forth. When I happened upon a human flock I was delighted, such a large gathering must of course contain chicks. In my ignorance I brazenly approached them; I didn’t fear their metal skewers or drunken curses. Cocky and oblivious, I searched for a heart to soothe the desire in my gullet. Without care, my actions attracted the attention of the humans.
“Hey look at that, boys! Bold as brass the little fellow is! Or maybe it’s just hurt. Either way I think we might put the poor thing out of its misery, and liven up our stew!”
It took me a moment to realise what the man intended and longer to derive the purpose of the shiny piece of metal he pointed at me. By then I had waited too long, crying out first in anger then in fear I watched them approach. With my ungainly hobble I had little hope of escape before I found myself slain by their hands.
“Hold off Colin!”
A young man approached from behind, and I took the shelter his body offered even as he made my case.
“You’d risk the wrath of the Morrigan even after we called her attention to this very spot? Her daughters feast on our offerings and you seek to flavour our cooking pots? So far from our lands we can afford no disfavour from our gods!”
His eyes we hard and I thanked the Celtic goddess for her patron; though I did not thank him for naming me her daughter. I took the shelter they offered… even if he did think me a lowly crow.
This, Colin walked forward with nothing but contempt in his eyes, “Watch your tongue Dalen. Or I might cut it out myself.” Then with a sniff of derision, he turned away. “C’mon men, let the filth play with his magic bird. We have better things to do that converse with a bastard and his pet.” With that parting barb, Colin led his lackeys off into the camp.
The man called Dalen turned back apparently surprised to see me still there. “Ah, what’re you doing still here? Are you hurt? Poor thing.” He reached out towards me cautiously. “Now aren’t you a pretty girl.”
I bristled at being called a pretty girl, ravens are creatures of dignity, symbols of war… we are not pretty. My displeasure was assuaged as Dalen reached out to stroke the back of my neck. I couldn’t quite reach that spot on my own, an area last preened by my mate so many years ago. His fingers were soothing and I relaxed, pressing into his touch.
A sudden lack of motion brought me back to myself and my irritation returned in force. He however, looked on me as he might a song bird or some other pretty creature. My cries of outrage were dismissed as he smiled and left to abandon me. I, faced with the unknown dangers of the human camp and the relative safety he offered, had little other recourse than to go after him. I forced myself through the opening at the tent’s base, where the man seemed all too amused at my presence.
“Following me are you bird? Well so long as ye don’t foul my tent I suppose I can stand your presence. It’s beyond my ken whether you’ll savage me in my sleep, but I suppose I’ll just hope for the best.” Though his words presented an indifferent front, he still offered me a few dried fruits from his pocket. His wonder at my presence abated for the moment as I nibbled on my treat, the man slipped under his blanket and was asleep almost immediately. His sleeping form was perfectly defenceless, I could quite easily extend my beak and pluck his eyes from his face, they would be plump and juicy, a nice treat before I went on my way. But perhaps this human could be useful. Perhaps he could lead me to his young where I might choose my meal. If anything, he at least offered some protection.
I traveled with him and days passed at much the same pace as my own crippled hobble. I learned much of Dalen as he whispered his secrets to a bird he thought had no mind. I listened as he told me of his dead wife and still born child, of his mission for glory and death. Every night as he retired he would recount pieces of his past, to a friendly ear he didn’t know he had.
“Caitlin would have loved you, she loved crows- ahh now, don’t bristle I’m sorry, I know you ain’t a crow. Anyway, she would have loved to sit here with you on her lap, stroking your feathers. She was peaceful like that, we’d spend our evenings together just… talking, funny as it seems. She’d always been a bright girl, I never knew why she chose me. And she had a smile that could outshine the sun, but a temper to match it, Brigid help a peddler who thought to cross her.”
As agonizing as I found his sappy recollection, it did bring some pleasure to hear the affection in his voice. Dalen isolated himself from the rest of the camp, he seemed lonely. So, as he slept I felt it only just to return the favor, to whisper my stories into his sleeping ears.
“My mate would have despised you. Not that I could find fault in you, but Ravens just don’t tend to like humans in general. We’d spend our afternoons feeding on your corpses, or dragging your laundry through the mud. Ahh we were a pair, mischievous and spiteful, Feathers so dark shadows looked bright and eyes sharp enough to spot a coin a day’s flight away.”
He never heard my words through the veil of sleep, but I felt it balanced the scales. He would tell me of his wife and I would tell him of my mate, he would weep about his stillborn child, and I would commiserate over unhatched eggs.
As we shared our stories, his people fed mine. The Celts were vicious in battle, they took no prisoners and spared no lives. Dalen himself became a terror who cut swathes across the battlefield. For all his skill, he remained outsider. He only ever spoke to his comrades with a wet blade, and they treated him with equal disdain. Dalen made his distaste for the masacres known, and his companions disparaged it for weakness. He never joined in when the others pillaged the broken towns.
I hid my goals from Dalen, fed only upon the fallen at night. For some reason I didn’t want him to think poorly of me, I didn’t want to let him see how I craved blood. Yet I never managed to ease that craving, Even as I tore into dead children discarded by the celts, the essence I sought had faded. No matter how quickly I found their bodies, it seemed I could not scavenge my power. I would have to find a child myself.
My first opportunity to assuage that need came after a great battle. Dalen found no mirth in the disorganised band that celebrated their victory, or the trophies that wept as they played. He didn’t hear it at first, and I hoped he would continue on his way. He wouldn’t have even stopped if my entire body hadn’t reacted to the sound and smell. He froze and heard not danger, but the stifled weeping of a human child. The very sight made my crest rise and had I lips I would have licked them. I feared that Dalen would slay the child and risk my chances at ascension… but he did worse.
The bloody fool knelt down and rumbled at the child as I fluttered to his side. “Hush lad, hush. They’ll hear your cries and come. Keep quiet, I’ll not hurt you.” He sought to comfort the child. I know not why it worked, why this mewling lamb accepted the solace offered by his parent’s murderer, but the youth silenced himself and fell into Dalen’s arms.
He crooned to the child, stroking its hair and whispering in a language the lad could not understand. All the while Dalen stared at me. I saw accusation in his eyes for the first time since we had met. I didn’t understand his protectiveness towards the child. It was not anger in his eyes, but a warning. Then I made the connection, he knew. How often had I whispered my secrets to him, sure of his sleep? What horrible truths had I revealed to him? More importantly, why had I not seen this condemnation until now? As Dalen continued to whisper I heard one clear phrase repeated over and over again.
“No one will hurt you child. No one.”
I took his warning to heart. Dalen knew perfectly well what I wanted with the child. I found it strange, even knowing what I wanted he had continued to confide in me. Despite what I desired he didn’t revile me. It was confounding how he still placed his trust in me. When I looked at the child I couldn’t help but hunger for it, and still Dalen had accepted me.
So enthralled by Dalen, I failed to take notice when our surroundings changed. Colin and his fellows had stumbled upon my human and the child. They took great pleasure in seeing Dalen crouched on the ground, his arms curled around the spawn of their enemy.
“Lookie here boys, our Dalen has found us some new sport!”
Dalen didn’t sit idly for long, he set the child down and stood, “Leave off Colin, he can’t be more than ten years old! He’s hardly a threat. Besides… if you lay a hand on the child, I shall take great pleasure in removing in.”
A flash of fear showed in Colin’s eyes, though it faded as he remembered his faith in simple math bolstered his confidence. “Ain’t that a shame boys, that we had to kill Dalen when he defected? ‘Tis too bad, and we liking him so much”
Dalen drew his blade at Colin’s words as the child shrank back. As the small thing scrambled away from Dalen, he backed into a tree and huddled there. The sight was pitiful and apparently it stiffened Dalen’s resolve. “He’s only a boy Colin, not even a man. Who are we to blame him for his parent’s actions?” There was a hardness in his voice now, on that a fool would disreguard.
Colin laughed, “You know well that lineage is important, or had you forgotten your lack of a father? Blood follows blood and that child’s shall soon join his parents’.” Colin drew his own blade, as did his smirking compatriots.
Their show of force did little to shake the child’s protector “Of course blood is unimportant,” replied Dalen “yours ain’t all that pure, not with all the attention your mother sought.”
That barb was enough to send a drunken and overexcited fool into Dalen’s arms. Colin attacked before his companions were even ready. Dalen replied with more skill than the enraged Celt, and certainly with more grace. If I thought Colin a snake, Dalen was the heron that preyed upon it. That being said there were two more snakes quick to aid their would-be leader. I cawed at them and flapped my wings, but the found little distraction in my actions.
I however found my attempts quite fruitful, my wings for the first time since I had feasted on the king, offered me lift. I returned to the moon lit skies, for a moment forgetting about the land bound monkeys and their petty troubles. To fly was to live… Still Dalen’s plight was urgent. I needed to ensure child lived long enough for me to kill it myself. I found it odd how clearly I could see them as I looked down. Ravens are hardly nocturnal, yet I could make out the struggling humans as easily as I would were the sun at its peak.
Dalen was losing. The minor cuts that riddled his body were taking their toll, his footsteps slowed, and the tip of his sword drooped. The man’s skill became evident when even at the brink of exhaustion, he remained standing. Still, as much as I hated it, if this continued he would lose.
I should not gloat at my part in their battle, but if I claim responsibility for Dalen’s victory, it is perfectly justified. I dropped down, raking my talons across the scalp of one man’s head. His cry of surprise and a flinch as he tried to wave me off gave Dalen the chance to run him through. Watching their comrade fall, Colin and the other snake were only further enraged. They renewed their attack as Dalen backed into a tree, the child between his legs. He was off balance and his mind distracted by the huddled lump at his feet. He would not last much longer. I dove at the second snake, grazing his face with my talons. As he tried to slash at my black form on a dark night, he left Colin to face Dalen alone.
I know not what happened as I taunted the warrior, but his face showed fear for the first time, and from behind me I heard a body drop to the ground. I ascended from his range and took in my surroundings, Dalen stood, bloody and panting, but he still lived. The same could not be said of Colin.
The lackey took his chance to run, and Dalen didn’t even follow. For the first time I knowingly addressed a conscious Dalen and spoke “Do you plan to let him flee? He will warn the others and turn them against you! He must be stopped!” the idea that the prey might escape outraged me, yet Dalen’s panting form offered no pursuit.
He slumped against the tree, exhausted and bloody. “I’ll be hunted down anyway, I’ve killed a superior and there is little hope of hiding the deed. Besides, I’ve no wish to kill another comrade.”
“You call him a comrade? His petty jealousy sought your death! His death may not hide your actions, but it will provide something just as important for you and your recent bout of morality.” Indicating to the child I took to the skies once more. As I flew after my prey, I called back to Dalen, “Time Dalen! I will buy you time!”
I had no wish for him to be cut down by his own people, nor anyone else. Dalen and his pet would escape while I took to the skies. Perhaps I would dine on the heart of that child, perhaps another… either way I had my wings back and felt content for the first time in ages.
Catching up with the man, I attacked. I found it frighteningly simple to fell the man. My talons dug deeper than I had expected, the king had granted me more than just knowledge. As I carved into the snake’s neck, his voice cried out, quickly ending in a bloody gurgle. I fed then, taking in his substance to satisfy my hunger. Perhaps I would avoid devouring the child while he was under Dalen’s protection, it could wait.
I returned to Dalen to find him using Colin’s clothing as binding for his wounds. Colin was a fastidious prick; his clothes were probably cleaner than most bandages. “The snake is dead and you have a few more hours, perhaps enough time for you to return to camp and gather some supplies before you flee. I doubt you will have much time to hunt while carrying the chick.” I glanced to a small heap at the base of the tree. The child still covering his eyes had seemingly fainted. “I suppose I might deign to let him live for the next little while should you bring me something from the supply carriage, I’ve rather taken to dried fruit.” My tone was lofty, and I wondered how far Dalen would trust me, I wondered whether he should trust me. I had told myself to leave the child for now… but with its blood pounding in my head, I doubted how long that commitment would last.
Apparently Dalen had fewer doubts, but he was a poor judge of character. “Very well Valraven, I shall go and return with your treats… but first let us take the child away from this, he has seen enough blood.” I didn’t see the problem, the bodies had not yet begun to decompose, and Dalen had avoided the bowels. Then again, humans were ever so squeamish about their dead. Either way he lifted up the child and carried him some ways away, then left me to watch over him.
It felt a bit like leaving a wolf among the sheep and trusting it to abstain. Minutes after he departed I approached the child. It was unconscious, unable to prevent me from taking its life. I pressed my beak to its chest, it would be so simple to pierce the flesh and take its life, to grant me what I so desired. The child pulled me from my reverie as it reached out to stroke my head. I let out a shrill cry, not in fear of course, merely indignation. As his hand wrapped around my neck and traced my feathers I remained rigged with indignation, certainly not frozen with fear.
Yet the boy seemed content to stroke my head and murmur to himself. His words made perfect sense, though they sounded all too different from Dalen’s; Just another gift from the king. Even as individually they were coherent, his sentences held little meaning, nonsense poetry in which the child found comfort. He made soothing noises to accompany his touch, it enough that I could ignore the feel of his heart pumping blood through his veins.
I failed to notice Dalen’s approach, only the sudden tenseness of the child offered me warning. I fluffed up my feathers and hopped on top of the child mantling to protect him, my only motivation of course was that someone might steal my prey. I saw Dalen hide a smirk at my actions and drop the supplies as he stretched out. I took exception to his mirth and settled to preen, still perched atop the now smiling child. My reaction had been perfectly ordinary, I simply wished to ensure no one encroached on my territory, if Dalen felt otherwise; he could mind his own business.
As I preened the child giggled and stuck his hand under me so that he might move. I obliged and levered myself onto his arm, which sagged under my weight. Still he held me aloft. He stared at Dalen with some trepidation, with myself in-between as though I could protect him from the threat Dalen offered. Children are foolish, he should have been more wary of me.
Dalen crouched and offered the boy a pack, too big for him by far, but it looked light enough for the child to carry. “I’ll not hurt ye boy, and I’ll not keep ye, but I hope ye’ll stay so that I might offer my aid.” Dalen assumed the child understood him, but based on the child’s expression he did not, at least his mellow tone offered no fright. I climbed up the boys arm, and whispered into his ear… leaving out the bit about him being able to run.
He looked at me, aghast. I suppose he hadn’t heard me speak before then. But quickly with his eyes still on me, he took the pack Dalen offered. His eyes were not filled with fear, but with wonder. I wasn’t sure he knew what I was… but he certainly knew me to be more than a mere Raven. I cocked my head towards Dalen, dismissing the youth “What did you call me earlier, Valravn, it sounds… right.”
“Valravn, it’s what you are. I know the myths of the people here. I know how you came to be, and what you seek.” He glanced at the boy, “I know you will not find it here. You certainly have a way with children Valravn, but I trust you not to abuse it.” There was meaning in his words, but no threats, he truly did trust me. “We’ll have to move quickly, I suppose I should only be glad he is so underfed, he weighs not more than the pack itself.” With that he scooped up the child and pack, ignoring the startled yelp.
We traveled this way for some time before Dalen set the boy down. Dalen was pale, his steps lagging as they moved. Once or twice he stumbled over obvious roots or rocks. He could not go much farther. And though the child had spent most of the night being carried in one position or another, he would not last much longer either. I must admit my wings were beginning to feel heavy as the sky turned a dull orange.
“Dalen we shall stop here, you will sleep, I will keep watch.” I offered no alternative for the exhausted man; he didn’t have the energy to argue. The child took his cue from Dalen as he threw down his bedding and collapsed onto it. Unsure of what to do, the child hesitated. Impatient I ordered him to place his own down next to Dalen and sleep, I would watch for followers.
It was strange that he could understand me, that they both could. I could not speak the language of either people, and neither of them understood the crows. How many gifts had the king granted me, and how many more might a child. I ruffled my feathers, turning away from the vulnerable youth. I Dalen had asked me to abstain, so I would.
To find a better vantage point, as well as a distraction I took flight as the sun rose. Despite the fatigue I felt I took delight in the sun’s rays, I didn’t realise what horrors they brought with them. As the first hint of yellow peaked over the horizon, I dropped from the sky. Perhaps not quite as fast as a rock, but I could barely to prevent myself from breaking every bone in my body as I desperately flapped my wings. I hit the ground with an audible thump, though neither of my traveling companions made a sound. I found refuge in their deep sleep, that their closed eyes hid my disgrace. It took an hour to get all my feathers to sit straight after that.
As they slept I attempted many times to take flight once more, but each time I failed. It was only as my companions once more began our journey and the moon returned that I gained the skies. Under those stars I searched for signs of pursuit, but no humans followed us. Perhaps they didn’t care, or perhaps they had lost us. It mattered not to me, only that Dalen had found safety, and that I could fly under the stars.
We traveled in much this way for quite some time, I didn’t know where we were heading, the child certainly didn’t know, and Dalen only seemed intent on heading south. As we traveled, the pair tried to communicate as much as possible, with me reluctantly acting as translator. They grew more comfortable with each other, though the boy never told us his name. I grew closer to them during that trip, it seemed that Dalen forgot the risk I posed to the child he adopted, at times, so did I.
Eventually we found ourselves entering towns, Dalen needed to do something other than hunt, he needed work or the winter would freeze us. We found an inn and Dalen bartered for a room and a meal. As his eyes followed the waitress around the bar I ushered the child into the room. Like most nights, I took shelter in the curve of his body and comforted him until he stopped shaking. I slipped from the youths grasp and found my way into the drinking hall.
I watched from a rafter, as the waitress cuddled up next to Dalen, I could only hope they found a different room to mate in, as I understood it the child would be much offended. It turned out that I needn’t have worried. As the impure maiden led Dalen down a hall, an older man who could have been her father grabbed Dalen by the shoulder. Dalen couldn’t even understand the words, but the situation was clear. The man refused to be cuckolded. He screamed at Dalen as the woman simpered attractively in the background. Dalen gestured uselessly in apology, but made no dent in the man’s fury.
It took all of a moment for the man to bring his fist against Dalen’s skull. No one could ever mistake Dalen for a berserker, but only a fool would think him a pacifist. He swung back with all his force, forgetting that perhaps the man might be a little frail. The husband went down in a single blow and did not rise. I dropped from the ceiling and warned Dalen off as I mantled over the corpse. He accepted my distraction and fled, waking the boy and making his escape.
I made myself quite a scene as the villagers attempted to near the body, thinking perhaps the man unconscious. I did not leave off until they looked about ready to use a blade on me. As I took to the air and fled the building I heard them proclaim I was a warlock’s familiar. The called for the sorcerer’s deaths, Dalen’s death. I had made things worse, much worse. Dalen hadn’t made it far when I discovered him, burdened with the child as he was. His hunters had no such handicap, and were upon us quickly. “They will not harm the boy! You must run Dalen!” I told the boy he would be safe, but if he continued to slow Dalen, he would doom the Celt. I had no certainty of the boy’s safety, but I would see Dalen safe.
The boy understood and struggled from Dalen’s arms, while the large man argued “No! I’ll not –“ I cut him off, jabbing my beak into his scalp, flapping my wings in his face.
The child, still a novice in Dalen’s language called out one word over and over, “Go.”
Dalen relented with one last look at me and the child he gave me a command. “Protect him Valravn!” I watched him run as I nestled into the trees to watch over the boy.
As the hunters came upon the child they cried out their surprise and praised his escape from the mighty warlock. The child insisted on defending his so called captor. He lauded Dalen’s attributes and pleaded for them to stop. The ignorant villagers merely thought him bewitched and tried to soothe him. As the child cried his distress, one of the hunters picked up Dalen’s trail and the others charged off after, leaving only the child and two soldiers.
They tried to assuage the child as he screamed at them, thinking him harmless and enchanted. I saw too late as he reached for the sword. Before even I could react, the blade was wet with the blood of its owner. Then man screamed in pain, but he would live. The boy however would not. Before he could swing again, the second hunter had run him through. Both were astonished by what had happened, both were horrified by the child’s screams. They backed away, one clutching his wound, the dropping his gore covered blade. They left the dying child, claiming he was just another demon as they stumbled after their comrades.
I dropped down to the child, unable to believe what had happened, I couldn’t help but feel horror at the thought of his death, I liked the child. For weeks I dreamed of doing the same, exposing his heart and tearing into hiss flesh. Now with his stomach torn open, the foulness leaking out and into his body… I wanted to cry. Watching him, he could only whimper in pain. I crooned over the boy, unnerved by my own distress.
I heard him speak as I nuzzled his forehead. “Dalen…” His breath had difficulty escaping, in so much pain his body refused to accept it. “Is Dalen, OK?” I couldn’t answer that for him, I knew what the answer would be, and I didn’t want to say it aloud. Instead I preened his hair, apologising that I could not do more. “Make Dalen be ok?” He asked me, begging me to save Dalen. And I could do it… I could do it. I could put an end to the child’s torment, I could not save him, I could save Dalen.
“I can do it, I can save Dalen. But, child it will cost you. You will not see him again. You know what I am; you know what you have to offer me.” He wouldn’t live anyway, but somehow I couldn’t say that.
“Take it, take it and make it stop hurting!” He would not last much longer, his vitality would soon be gone and I wouldn’t even have the option. “But Valravn- Tell- Tell Dalen- Ivan. My name was Ivan.” To hear him refer to himself in the past tense broke me, I cried my fury before accepting what he freely offeredg.
I tore into his chest, and ended his pain. His death brought me new life in a way I had never known. The taste brought ecstasy! Every pleasure known to the world was indulged as his blood flowed across my tongue. His heart granted me power and pleasure. His ribs spit as my beack drove between them. Even his agonized moan seemed a haunting melody. Spreading his flesh to expose his beating heart painted his skin a beautiful red, and showed vividly under the moons light. I plucked it from his chest, and his small heart slid down my throat. It wasn’t enough though, I shoved my nose into the empty cavity. Growling and gnashing my teeth. I don’t know how long it took me to consume his entire body, but it couldn’t have been long.
When I was done, only the blood soaked grass remained, not a scrap of flesh, nor errant bone. I had consumed him wholly. And I, I was different. I was no longer a raven, I was something else. My feathers remained, but my body was that of a land predator. I admired my body an ran my tongue along sharp teeth. I had teeth now, and a nose. Had I noticed these things earlier? When had this happened. My confusion didn’t last, whatever I was, it felt right. My senses were on fire, exalting me with information. I could smell the remains of Ivan, even sated the scent was enough to make me drool. And then the other scent, that of his killers. Not I, I had not caused his death. It was men who had doomed him and men who would find their own end in me.
I don’t know whether I flew in their wake, or ran on all fours, the memories of those moments are foggy, only the exctacy of existence is clear. Chasing them was exhilarating, killing them was satisfying. To feel their innards tangled between my claws, their bones crushed between my teeth. Nothing would ever compare to Ivan, but it was as close as it got.
This new strength was a gift from Ivan, an extension of his will. In truth it was just power; any child would have granted the same rush. Ivan might have been important to me, but that didn’t make him special. His blood fueled me though, with one goal in mind. Dalen. We would save him
I passed a body, it wasn’t Dalen, I moved on. I caught them after either hours, or seconds. There was Dalen, majestic in his defiance of superior numbers. However many there were he would not fall, he was their better. How dare they hurt him! I leapt upon the back of one man, raking my claws across his ribs, digging my teeth into his neck. The blood tasted different, the smell overpowered all. Had Dalen not chosen that moment to strike I might have lost myself in the experience.
He provided me with the spark I needed to act. As a sword swung at my head, my form twisted. Once more I was a Raven. I shrunk and flexed as wings once more granted me flight. I tore into my attackers eyes, savoring the pleasure as his viscera dripped from my talons. Every second of violence brought new pleasure.
Dalen cried out, I looked to see his leg crumpled beneath him. His sword clashing with that of a man twice his size, Dalen was failing as the man pressed his weight into the blades. I smiled, or at least I began to. As my feathers faded into armor and my wings made sword and shield I looked upon my next victim. Placing my new blade against the man’s neck, I flashed a feral grin.
“Play with me fool. Dance with the Warlock’s familiar.” The man kicked Dalen and spun to face me. He moved so slowly, eager to kill the beast he saw in my eyes. Foolish creature, he was lucky to fight Dalen when he was tired and wounded. He lunged towards me and I twisted away, I didn’t even have to raise my blade as he attempted to cut my new body. His predictable swings couldn’t touch me, I was above this man, he deserved no more of my attention.
I stepped forward into his swing and caught his arm. He hardly had a chance to realise he was dead before my blade found its way between his ribs. I pulled my blade from his body and ran my tongue along its length, sighing with dissatisfaction. The wolf’s senses were so much stronger. I turned to see Dalen motionless as he leaned against a tree. I saw no familiarity in his eyes. I allowed my armor to fade into my body, let the sword retract. I mirrored Dalen’s form, the epitome of man.
I rushed towards him as he stood motionless, staring. I embraced him for a moment before he pushed me away, my blood stained grin faded for a moment. Of course he was confused, “It is me, your Valravn! I have rescued you.” And still he looked at me aghast, my smile returned as I realised what must be the problem. He found my form disconcerting; to look at himself in a mirror had confused him. I recalled the memories of a form that would please him, I took the nostalgia tainted memories he had shared and took on the too perfect form of his dead wife.
This time when I offered my embrace, he drew his sword rage painting his features. All mirth left me as I stared at him in confusion. Did he not realise who I was?
Dalen glared at me, revulsion growing on his face. “Where is the child Valravn?”
“Where Is The Child!” His fury left bruises on my shoulders.
I looked at him, not scared, not of him. “He was dying Dalen, I did not kill him.” I smiled in his memory, “He offered his life for you Dalen.” I wanted him to understand what Ivan had felt towards him, what he had done.
He did not take it well, but he released me. “I do not care if he was on his knees begging Scum! He was a child and you… you took his heart, demon! And now you have what you wanted, you have your prize.” He turned away, shuddering, exhausted both physically and emotionally. His surrogate child had been lost to him, I suppose I understood. But why would he insist on blaming me?
“Ivan was dying Dalen, he fought for you and fell! I ju-“
He cut me off, screaming. “Go! By the souls of my wife and unborn child, by Ivan himself, if I ever see your thrice accursed face again I will end you! Leave, you are an abomination. Truly if I ever see you again, my sword shall pierce your form, be you man, beast, Raven” He had to spit out the last word, his fury cluttering his mind. As unreasonable as he was being, he meant every word. Dalen would not break such an oath, not one sworn on the lives of those he loved. I knew not what to do but obey. I took to the air shedding my skin and growing feathers. I allowed him his despair, but I didn’t go far, I didn’t leave him. I had found something in Dalen, a partner, and Ravens mated for life.
I watched him after that, I watched him find a wife and raise his son, I watched live, and love. I watched him die. So many times I wished to return to him, and sometimes I did. Always with a different face, never as anything more than a passing stranger, just speaking with him was enough, just to hear his voice. I watched his child grow and quelled the desire I felt in my stomach watching over the child. Another boy named Ivan, but this one I would not betray, this child I would never fail. I would hold my hunger back and ensure that this Ivan would live. I did the same for his first son and the next after that. Some times as I watch the generations pass, as I safeguard this family I can think of myself as a hero.
But as each child is born my hunger returns and I think of Ivan once more. How can I take so much pleasure even in the memory of something I know is so repulsive? How can I allow myself to remember the taste of his blood with relish, when the thought of his face brings tears to my eyes and the memory of blood stained grass makes my stomach writhe. It is the greatest horror I have ever wrought and yet it is the memory that brings me most pleasure. When I think of that day I remember the monster that I am.
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