Ravenfall by Sunny Moraine

Author:Sunny Moraine [Moraine, Sunny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, novel
ISBN: 9781607015116
Publisher: Masque Books
Published: 2014-08-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The waxing half-moon. The moon of balance, of edges, of choices and decisions.

Turn and Ava lay together on one of the rolling carts, permitted to seize a few more precious hours of sleep, but Turn rolled onto her back in the cart’s bed and looked up at the sky, at the moon, and felt her heart turning over in her chest . . .

Sene sat at the window in Corvi’s house and saw it peeking through a rare break in the clouds that still blanketed the city, heavy with rain. The moon’s light glittered on the still-falling drops, turning them to molten silver, and Sene felt something unknown pulling at him—unknown, but he had his suspicions, and knew that that something was bearing down on him even as it tugged, inexorable and unavoidable . . .

Joran stood on the balcony in the Chief Minister’s tower and saw the same break in the clouds and felt a coldness creeping up through his body, beginning at his feet and conveyed by his spine. He wanted to shrug it off, to go back inside and dry himself before the fire that roared crimson in the grate, casting bloody light around the room. But instead he stood and soaked, head tipped back, and for the briefest of times he allowed all the fear that came with a fundamental loss of control to grip him and shake him like a cat with a rat in its jaws . . .

Then the clouds covered the moon again, and Joran and Sene looked away. From where she lay, Turn could still see the moon, but she closed her eyes and turned over, one hand on Ava’s bony hip, giving in to her own weariness at last.

Imperceptibly, the moon swelled in its dark cradle.

For the next cycle of moonrise and set, Ava and Turn found nothing else in Sol. There was still gossip, still rumor, but no news of any other dead, and the fear seemed to be dissipating somewhat. Though she didn’t speak of it to anyone, Turn allowed part of herself to hope it had really been a fluke—an accident or a desperate breaking-through of the forces they had once beaten back—that wouldn’t be repeated.

She hoped, but she didn’t really believe it.

The caravan climbed.

Travel was rarely a silent affair among a caravan of Ravens. There was talk, stories were told, songs sung and old walking chants spoken in chorus, lightening feet and spirits when the journey weighed heavier. But now, in such a large caravan, people were unnaturally quiet. As the mountains no longer only rose ahead but began to loom on either side of them, the quiet became oppressive. They were still a long way from the high passes and slopes, but already, when Turn looked back, she could see the Shadowlands spread out far below them, flat and vast and cut into hard shapes and angles in the moonlight.

Very far away, she could see the lights of Lune where the horizon rose up into the series of rocky hills on the edge of which the city rested.

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