Chapter 42: The Raven

Walking made Violet feel a little better, though the sky above had a dullness to it that she didn’t like. Hints of cloud lingered, leftover from the previous day’s rainstorm, and though it didn’t seem that further precipitation was forthcoming, they still conspired to give the sunlight a clinging cheerlessness.

Despite that, tiny hints of Glow flickered nearly everywhere Violet looked, the air prismatic with it. Flickers of azure clung to naked metal and nested within the fractures of cracked glass. It seemed infectious, somehow, and each tiny evidence of the Glow’s enduring strength made her want to walk faster.

But though her spirit was strong, Violet found that she could not move very quickly without tiring. She felt worn out, despite the many hours of rest she’d gotten, and the tea had done nothing to curb the ominous swirl of nausea rooted to the pit of her stomach.

Another symptom of her burgeoning illness, she supposed, and again had to stamp out a surge of worry.

It meant nothing, Violet told herself, for the Glow was close and she remained entirely determined to reach it.

Soon enough they rejoined the main road and, staring down the wide open stretch of its uninterrupted length, Violet could once again see the river, the bridge and the end of the city itself, all shockingly near.

She had spent a long time walking between tall buildings and the thought of leaving them behind was strangely liberating. It was not so much their existence that bothered her, but rather that they allowed nothing else to challenge them. Were it not for the flowers and grasses and trees worming their way up through the cracks the entire city would have lay silent and still until the end of time. Like something dead.

Or…not even that. Even death had a motion to it, Violet knew that now, even if it made her uneasy to acknowledge. With death came worms and flies to strip the flesh, and then time to bleach and bury the bones.

All of that was happening to the city, as happened to all temporary things, but the process was slow and seemed unnatural when placed upon edifices that screamed of permanence. Even after every spire had crumbled and every road that scarred the earth had been worn entirely away, Violet thought that there would still be some unknowable element left over, trying in spirit to be eternal, an indelible mark upon the skin of the world.

She’d come to a halt, staring around herself, and after a moment the cat came up and brushed between her ankles with a tickle of soft black fur.

“I could get you a string to keep that quartz on.” It said.

Violet glanced down, broken from her thoughts.

“Would you?” She asked, halfway surprised that the cat wanted to further the beast’s gift, and was met by a gentle smirk from her companion, who promptly flickered from sight.

The cat’s exits were not so smooth in places with ill defined shadows and Violet couldn’t help but shy away from the null space where her companion suddenly wasn’t. She still didn’t understand exactly what that unspace was, and had a sense that she probably never would. The cat had said something about perspectives, but that still made less than total sense.

The beast drifted closer and together they kept walking, their pace slowing to nearly a stroll. Violet’s gaze had strayed to the decrepit hulk of the refinery, where it hunched on the other side of the river, and she pointed it out to the beast, half hopefully.

“Have you ever been over there?” She asked.

The beast examined the refinery for a time, then made a vague rippling motion that Violet supposed was meant to be a shrug.

p e r h a p s ---- It said. ---- t h e -- w o r l d -- i s -- s u c h -- a -- l a r g e -- p l a c e

That was about the answer Violet had been expecting, and she reached gently out to pat the stretch of cloth she guessed was most equivalent to a shoulder.

“When we get to the Glow, I bet you could ask it for all your memories back.”

The beast’s gaze lifted, up past the refinery and to the northern horizon.

i t -- i s -- a -- v e r y -- b r i g h t -- l i g h t ---- It said at last, then was silent.

They continued onwards for a time, enveloped in a comfortable quiet, warm as a wrapping of crushed velvet. There were more buildings, and places where the street raised and curved off in odd directions, but though a part of her wondered where they might lead, Violet kept her attention focused northwards.

When the cat reappeared, dropping heavily onto the top of her rucksack with a thump that only slightly startled her, it had a black shoelace in its mouth, which it showed off with a preening and only slightly exaggerated pride.

“Thank you.” Violet said, accepting the cat’s offering.

“It’s a marriage of the pretty and the practical.” Her companion said, and Violet only halfway rolled her eyes, for the shoelace was thin and strong, made of a long strip of carefully cured leather.

Her piece of pink quartz had no hole through which a string could be threaded, so instead Violet tied the shoelace tightly around its middle and then fastened the ends of the laces around her own neck. The quartz came to rest quite naturally at the join of her collarbone, and Violet turned a circle in place, delighted by how it caught the light. She came to a halt facing the beast, which nodded appreciably.

y o u -- l o o k -- v e r y -- p r e t t y ---- It said, and Violet could not help but blush at the bashful sincerity in her new companion’s words.

“So far as human jewelry goes, yours is very humble.” The cat quickly added, not to be outdone.

This had to be high praise, for the cat seemed quite serious, but Violet couldn’t keep herself from smirking. Turning, she tapped the top of her rucksack and a moment later the cat had reclaimed its perch, front paws resting upon her left shoulder.

Violet stroked them with one thumb.

“Thank you,” she said. “Both of you.”

The beast executed a gracefully formless bow and the cat patted her with its tail. All of that accomplished, Violet continued on towards the river, a tiny piece of wonder sparkling at her throat.

At the edge of the city the main road widened, admitting other lanes that curved forth to feed into the bridge. The bridge itself was guarded by a small collection of weathered concrete booths and corroded steel bollards that sat crookedly in their sheaths, some only halfway raised.

They did not seem altogether formidable, for there was space enough between them for a person to easily pass through, but Violet supposed that she was missing some crucial element that would have been apparent back when everything functioned as intended.

She stopped just short of the bridge, hands tucked into her pockets.

“What do you think they were protecting?” She asked.

“The refinery, perhaps.” Suggested the cat.

Violet squinted across the river, to where the old refinery building loomed. Again it put a shiver through her.

“Why would anybody protect that?” She asked.

“Could be anything,” the cat said. “It’s not like humans need a reason to be cripplingly paranoid all the time.”

Violet allowed her gaze to slip elsewhere with a carefully measured roll of her eyes. She considered asking the beast, for perhaps it would have some insight, but her new companion was distracted by the glittery golden fluttering of a small troop of drowsy daytime moths.

“Or….” The cat continued, having suddenly fetched upon some dubious source of inspiration. “Could be that this isn’t keeping us out. Could be that it’s keeping something in.” Silver feline eyes flashed with theatrical malice.

“That’s not funny.” Violet said, voice a little stiffer than she’d intended, and the cat backed down with a lingering self satisfied smirk.

When she next looked to the beast it had gathered the moths into a shady fold of fabric along its front and seemed to be tucking them in, movements gentle and precise.

“Beast?” Violet asked, supposing she might as well ask her question anyway. “Do you remember what all of…this is for?” She encompassed the curious booths and half raised bollards with a sweep of one hand.

The beast drifted past her to examine the mysterious infrastructure more closely, skull cocked to one side. It drew up next to the closest booth, the edge of its fabric tickling the dry curl of a dead sunflower vine, then suddenly straightened and spun around.

t o l l ---- The beast excitedly announced.

Violet blinked.

“Like…a bell?” She asked uncertainly.

The beast gave her a look of such unabashed confusion that Violet felt bad for not understanding what it meant. She colored, cheeks warming, and hurriedly waved a hand.

“It’s…um…maybe we should….” She pointed helplessly forward.

“Keep going?” The cat suggested, greatly amused.

Violet nodded gratefully, but even as she approached the bridge’s edge she saw the cat’s gaze slide skyward, its expression suddenly watchful. A moment later shadows slid over top of her and Violet heard the flapping whir of a great many wings.

She attempted to whirl around, to place herself in some position where she wouldn’t have her back to that which was suddenly upon them, but in an instant the world was crowded with fluttering, flapping veils of black.

The sky was full of crows.

Violet shuffled closer to the cat, which gave her a cool look.

“Let me do the talking.” It said, and Violet was relieved to hear a note of genuine ease in her companion’s tone.

The beast drew up closer to her other side, movements smooth and careful. Violet could hear its teeth beginning to grind and put a reassuring hand upon its fabric.

Around them the crows continued to whirl like a living cyclone of feathers and beaks and glossy black eyes. They’d been dead silent upon their approach but cawed and croaked and chatted excitedly amongst themselves now, their noise raucous and huge as they slowly settled to earth. The ground was blanketed with birds for at least twenty meters in every direction.

Violet thought for a moment about attempting to listen in, so she might discern the mob’s intentions, but that consideration was interrupted by a final heavy flapping of wings. Descending from on high towards a central bollard left conspicuously empty, was an enormous and venerable raven.

The raven was flanked by a pair of doting crows and dwarfed them both, its wingspan easily longer than Violet’s own arms. The sight of such a large bird in flight reminded her a bit of how it felt to watch the beast take to the air, though the raven possessed a good deal more solidity. When it landed Violet felt the cool wash of its wings ruffle her hair and heard its claws scrape against concrete capped steel. She couldn’t help but shuffle back, overawed by it all.

The cat took a slow, respectful step forward and sat down perhaps a half dozen paces short of the raven’s perch. It drew its tail tightly around itself like a scarf.

“Would I be correct in assuming you know the language I am now speaking?” The cat asked.

The raven shuffled deliberately from one foot to the other, observing the cat through keen black eyes.

“I know many languages, es felidae. Some of them are even useful.” Said the raven.

“How nice it is to be amongst the civilized.” The cat remarked, and this provoked a titter from the surrounding crows.

Violet took a deep breath, as quietly as she could. It wasn’t surprising to hear an animal speak so fluently in her own tongue, but there was an underlying tenseness to the raven and its companions that she did not much like.

“You are traveling with strange company.” The raven observed, as if deigning to notice Violet for the very first time. Its gaze felt cold and ancient, like the darkness at the bottom of a very deep river.

“No more strange than yours, monsieur corvus.” Said the cat, ever so lightly.

This seemed to amuse the raven, for it laughed, a dusty wheeze of mirth that narrowed its eyes and fluffed its iridescent black feathers.

“More specifically,” it said, recovering from its laughter. “You travel north, towards the Horned Place. Why?”

Violet shuffled uneasily.

“Horned Place?” She whispered, confused.

The crows stirred at the sound of her voice, sharp beaks clicking together, and again the raven’s eyes found her. Violet forced herself to look past the raven and across the length of the bridge. If what the raven had described lay directly ahead, then….

“Do you mean the refinery?” She asked, newly caught off guard. “We’re not going there. We’re going to see the Glow.”

The cat gave her a small look, but it was not disapproving.

In front of them, the raven cast a glance over one shoulder, to the sagging old husk that lay hunched and sinister upon the river’s opposite bank. Some of the smokestacks and pipes that studded its roof had begun to curl and collapse in on themselves. From a certain angle, Violet supposed, they did look like horns.

“For your own sake,” the raven said ominously. “I hope you aren’t lying.”

Violet tensed, eyes flickering to the sea of crows that surrounded her, but already the raven was shaking its head.

“There are worse things than me in the world,” it said. “A girl of your travels must know that by now.”

“Then what?” Violet asked, remaining cautious. “What makes the…the Horned Place so bad?”

“You don’t know a single piece of your kind’s history, do you?” The raven asked, looking upon her with something that might have been distantly related to pity. After a moment that expression smoothed out to mere indifference. “…Perhaps that’s just as well.”

“But…if I don’t know why it’s so bad then how do you expect me to stay away?” Violet blurted, too curious to stay silent. For a worried second she thought she might have been too bold, but again the raven chuckled.

“In the old days the Horned Place spat flame, and smoke that dulled the sky and soured our lungs. It is still evil, of course, but a quiet evil now. One we can easily enough fly away from.”

Violet considered this, considered the raven in its formidable venerability, old as the world.

“Is this raven history or—”

“I remember it.” The raven cut her off, as though she had attempted to impugn some arcane facet of its honor.

“You remember?” Violet echoed, astonished. “Back when there were humans in the city?”

“In the city and the Horned Place alike.” The raven said.

“Then you must remember what happened to them. What caused all of this.” Violet spun an excited circle, denoting the whole world.

“I do.” The raven confirmed.

“Can you tell me?”

For a long time the raven was silent, gaze offset as though lost in recollection. Then its eyes again became bright and very sharp.

“I don’t like humans that much, girl.” The raven said, then spread the vast, inky expanse of its wings and was suddenly airborne, its cadre of crows following in a shrilly excited swirl.

Violet jumped closer to the beast, too startled to speak. Her mouth was open but no words escaped.

“I wish you luck on your journey,” the raven’s voice spiraled down from amidst a discordant mass of wings and beaks. “You will need it.”

And then, just as suddenly as they’d arrived, the mob was gone but for a single jet black feather that lay just short of the raven’s perch.

Violet stared, blinked hard, and then held her hands up in empty outrage. She had a sudden vivid urge to stomp and shout and flail like a tantrum addled child, but managed just barely to keep herself still.

“That….” There was no polite word to describe it.

“It’s very unfortunate.” The cat agreed, but though it was wearing a sympathetic face, Violet could tell by the gentle tremble along its whiskers that her companion was trying very hard not to laugh.

The beast patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.

t h e r e -- i s -- a l w a y s -- t h e -- g l o w ---- It said, and Violet supposed that was true.

Swallowing her pique, she collected the castoff feather on a whim and rolled its quill between her fingers. It still felt faintly warm and so she held it out to the beast, which hesitated for a moment and then presented one edge of the fabric that bordered its skull. There were loose threads every so often and Violet tied the feather to one. It looked quite grand, she thought, and the beast turned a full circle in place, admiring the new addition to its form.

The cat hopped up onto the bollard so recently occupied by the raven.

“Birds can be like that sometimes,” it said. “The clever ones always think they’re very clever.”

“…Would you tell me, if you knew?” Violet asked after a contemplative moment.

“Tell you what?”

“How everything got like this,” Violet said. “I mean, if you knew for sure.”

“Probably,” her companion said with a delicate and very feline shrug. “But only if you promised to do everything I said at all times.”

Violet rolled her eyes and stepped past the cat, which was wearing a very devious and sharp toothed smirk. It settled next to her after another few paces, the beast occupying her other side, and together like that they moved on.

Now that she was actually on the bridge Violet couldn’t help but be surprised by just how big it was. It spanned the entire huge length of the river, of course, but somehow its breadth was equally impressive. The bridge was structured like a boulevard in the city, with a high concrete median dividing it into two lanes. Violet thought that everyone in her village could probably have stood shoulder to shoulder across the bridge’s waist and still had plenty of elbow room.

But even as those thoughts came, she was registering a dull, nearly directionless unease. It took her a long moment to figure out what it was.

The bridge was dead. Not in the way blank stone or concrete were, not even in the way the city had been, for each ruined street and building had been overtaken by flowers and moss and hardy little trees. That was not the case here. Everywhere she looked Violet could see the powdery, desiccated remains of lichens and vines, signs of former vibrance long since strangled. Consumed.

Beneath that decay, running through the shadowy space of cracks and seams in the concrete, tiny threads of crimson fungus lay quietly dominant where they had wormed hungrily forward to annihilate the world.

A cold shock of disgust rippled through her, but though Violet stepped hurriedly away there was no space free of the influence’s emissary. Indeed, it was probably registering her frightened little footsteps even now, keeping careful track of every move she made.

The beast gave her a calm, sober look and Violet made herself take that unflappability to heart. It wouldn’t be long until they were across the bridge, past the ugly old refinery, and back into the embrace of the forest.

It caught her momentarily by surprise to find herself thinking like that; considering the woods a safe, even desirable place to be. Yet—

“Oh.” The cat said, voice low and flat with displeasure.

Violet turned to follow her companion’s gaze, where it was looking behind itself.

There, just past the place where she’d talked to the raven, Violet could see the shambling ambulations of shivery legs delivering a silent crowd of false animals onto the bridge. As she watched, the breath frozen from her lungs by an icy swell of sudden dread, the animals, heads held low as though listening closely for instruction, carefully arranged themselves into a crooked line, blocking off the end of the bridge.

Their positioning was not perfect, some animals were faced entirely away, as though the concept of three dimensional space was a foreign one, but the gesture remained unmistakable.

There would be no running away this time.