The Raven

 The people of the North, the home of Diana, Richard, and Katheryn, believe that the animal spirits have things to teach humans. Here’s one of those stories the high-priestess of Nordes tells.

 

 The Raven

In Lonnough, wearing a white robe, the high priestess sat in a semi-circle of cheering children as she finished telling a story of the Prophet. Behind the children sat their parents and the village elders. A totem pole stood behind her with carved images of animal spirits, the eagle at the top. To both sides sat acolytes.

“What story would you like to hear next?” The priestess asked.

A child pointed to a figure on the totem just behind the priestess. “The raven.”

“There are many stories of the raven. Which one would you like?”

From the adults came a scratchy voice. “Our lands are full of fighting, and the fallen fill our graveyards . . .”

The priestess turned to the voice: an old woman in a wheelchair whose hands trembled as she gripped the arms. A young woman stood behind her with her hands on the crone’s shoulders and bit her lip.

“Tell them of death,” the old woman said.

The priestess frowned. “They’re a bit young for—”

The children shouted to hear the story, and the priestess raised her hand, closing her eyes to recast the story into one suitable for children. She opened her eyes and spoke.

“Hear the words of the Prophet.

“Vain Darkness was jealous of tiny black Raven because it could fly in the Light where Darkness could not go. And the rebellious Raven would not follow Darkness’s orders like the shadows that moved as one when Light passed.”

“Why?” a child asked.

The priestess nodded. “Darkness did not understand why black Raven did not flee Light and stay in the shadows. Raven knew them both and did not care.

“Knowing Darkness was vain, clever Raven swallowed all the mirrors to protect himself from Darkness. Without the mirrors, Darkness could not admire himself. Enraged by the little creature’s defiance, Darkness killed Raven by breaking him into tiny pieces and scattering him in the shadows. But that shattered the mirrors as well, and unable to admire himself, Darkness became distraught.”

“And death?” the crone croaked.

“Death welcomed Raven,” the priestess said, “hoping to swallow his cleverness. But the shards of mirror sparkled with the tiny specks of Light the souls in Hel had retained, keeping Death away.

“Darkness asked Light what to do to restore the ability to admire himself. Light told Darkness to put his anger aside and forgive Raven. ‘Do not be jealous of Raven,’ Light said. ‘Black Raven brought dark into the light. Find all the pieces of Raven and put him back together.’

“In the shadows, Darkness put Raven back together and thanked him for expanding the dark. In gratitude, Raven spat out the mirrors. The world was at peace again, and vain Darkness was content. But Raven knows both life and death and has more lessons to teach us.

“This is the story a shepherd, the Prophet, taught us so we will follow Light and Grace and listen to the lessons the animal spirits teach us.”

The high priestess closed her eyes and made the arrow sign. The audience copied her, and she opened her eyes again.

“Now, what lesson does the Prophet’s story teach us?” the high priestess asked.

The children all spoke at once.

“Don’t be vain and let yourself be angered,” said one.

“Jealousy and envy hurt the one who feels that way,” said another.

“Darkness wants to take over, but we can stop him if we’re clever like Raven.”

The priestess smiled. “You called Darkness ‘him’?”

“You did.”

She smiled. “Yes, I did, but ladies can be mean too.”

A girl raised her hand. “But men have the power.”

“Women also have power when they choose to use it.”

The girl smiled and sat up straight.

With glistening eyes, the crone croaked, “What lesson does Raven bring us of death?”

The high-priestess turned to the old woman, and the crowd disappeared as they looked into each other’s eyes. Tears traced the crone’s cheeks as she took the young woman’s hand.

“The light in your soul cannot be snuffed out,” the priestess said. “Even by Death.” She closed her eyes again. “And those who live see that light in every dawn.”

 . . .

Enjoy,

Ray

---

Interested in Katheryn's story?

Angel of Death will be released later this year.

 

What dragons see when they fly.

 When dragons and Riders soar above the clouds, I'm not inventing the sights from scratch.

For years, I flew between Orange County and San Francisco. Occasionally, the weather would force us to circle through layers of clouds at sunset . . .

Sky blue above,

Darkness below, and in between,

Floating islands of orange, yellow, and red clouds.

Each circle dipped into an entirely new layer of clouds and a new experience. It remains one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

 Years later, when I wrote Astria and Zephyr flying above the clouds, those memories found their way onto the page. An excerpt from Zephyr’s Flight captures part of that for me.

 For Riders, flying isn’t about getting somewhere. It’s about freedom.

 

(A short passage from Zephyr’s Flight …)

 

He soared again to carry her through the layers of clouds that shrouded the valley, first the reds and oranges that set the glaciers ablaze, and above them to hazy yellow clouds. Above them all, the sun still shone, while far below them, torches blinked in the shadows of the Spine through breaks in the cloud cover.

As the clouds changed from rose to dusty gray a thousand feet above the peaks, she found peace, at one with the sky and the night. When the setting sun left them in shade, moonlight from Lon and Elein lit the valley.

In the clear air above the smoky valley rim, she was closer to the stars than to home. Within them, she found the constellation Nidhogg and her wishing star. “Thank you,” she said and hugged her dragon tighter.

She belonged here, and she would have nothing less.

“Olim willing, you will ride,” her father had said. “And when you do, the world will never be the same.”

She smiled. And he was right.

 

(end)

 

If you'd like to recreate some of the feelings I had while writing this passage, here are a few pieces of music and imagery I return to:

·       the picture below (or sunset vids here or here)

·       listen to Ivan Torent’s Crimson Flight (here)

·       listen to Thomas Bergerson’s Promise (here)

 

 

Enjoy,

Ray

! Eric Hoffer Award Grand Prize Short List !

We are thrilled to announce that The Wounded Sky, the second book in The Dragons’ War series, has been honored by being named on the

 

! Eric Hoffer Award Grand Prize Short List !

 

The Eric Hoffer Award is the most prestigious award for non-traditional books in the world, and we are honored to be considered for the Grand Prize.

 

Also …

Just for fun, I’ve also posted new videos about Zephyr’s Flight below. More are posted here.