Shrike by George Mann

Author:George Mann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2016-07-28T07:27:00+00:00

Two birds perched upon the fallen branch, their heads bobbing and twitching like old maids, deep in conversation. Shrike wondered what they would say to one another if they really could speak. Would one warn the other of the warriors in the forest, the pale figures who bottled their spirits and carried their skulls into war? Would they even believe it?

Shrike could hardly believe it himself. Nor could he believe his luck. Barely half an hour had passed since the previous raven had taken wing, and now another two had arrived. Fortune was smiling upon him.

He observed them for a few moments, making his choice. The bird on the left kept rustling its wing in an awkward, ungainly gesture, as if the limb would no longer fold back into the correct position. He wondered if perhaps another of the initiates had attempted to grab it, and had injured the creature before it managed to get away. It would make for an easier target: slower, less likely to escape his grasp. It would be enough to see him through his initiation.

The other raven, however, was a much finer beast. Its feathers were slick and midnight-black, and there was something fierce and pure about it, something ethereal. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt an odd sense of kinship with the bird, as if it were choosing him, as much as he was choosing it.

This, he knew, was his true test – did he take the easiest path, the quickest route to success, or did he take the path that felt right? Throughout all of the trials, Shrike had trusted his instincts. He was not yet a trained warrior, yet he had won through on passion, dedication and a deep belief in what was right. This was the true purpose of the trial, he realised: to reach an understanding of the spiritual, as well as the physical. This was a test of his nature as much as his stealth.

Perhaps this was where he had gone wrong the first time. He’d been in such a hurry to prove himself that he hadn’t stopped to consider whether it felt right.

Shrike took a step out from behind the bough of the bolas tree. The other raven, the one with the damaged wing, must have seen or heard him, as it immediately launched itself from the branch, squawking loudly as it fluttered off into the forest.

The other raven turned its head, its beady eyes blinking as it regarded him. Shrike froze, suddenly unsure. Had he done the wrong thing? Was this bird, too, about to take wing in fear?

He fought the rising sense of panic. No. He was sure of this path. He knew, with a certainty he would stake his life upon, that he was doing what he was meant to do.

Shrike closed his eyes. He drew a thin, cool breath, dragging it down into his lungs. He moved his hands around so that they met before him, and he formed a cup, just as he had before, his fingers splayed to form a cage for the bird.

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