Raven arose the next morning refreshed. Well, not refreshed, exactly. More like not completely destroyed in both body and soul, which was a nice change of pace. He had returned from Marble Downs early in the afternoon and slept the rest of the day, rising the next morning with a hungry belly but a refreshed mind.
The standard bread and boiled lamb lay on his plate, along with an egg. However, a carrot now accompanied his breakfast, which he ate with zeal, a welcome respite from the dreadful food he was required to consume during his task.
Once back outside, he gazed up at his now very tall tower. Only two more levels remained to build now. The spire was starting to converge near the top. After stretching, he got back to work. The days pressed on like a terrible dirge. The seemingly endless pile of stones taunted him, and the work only grew as the tower grew higher and the steps increased.
But something occurred during the third week that Raven had anticipated, but couldn’t fully count on until it happened. His body, little by little, became accustomed to the toil. The sharp pains dulled with each new day. The cramps and spasms reduced, and the food he was provided offered just a little more fulfillment after consumption. Up and down he went, lugging the mighty stones, placing them, and returning for another. The pattern became something of a hypnotic delirium, where time passed in achingly slow fashion, but when each day ended, Raven found himself marveling how time seemed to fly.
So, when Holy Day came once again after another six grueling days of work and another level completed, he was hurting, but no longer wishing for either deliverance or death. His rest day became his first true day of cessation, where he stayed in his bed to recover. It was, of course, incredibly boring. Rue did her best to keep him company, but the doldrums of waiting for his last week to start overcame any dread.
It was welcome relief, then, when Jack Storne knocked on the entrance of the hut and came inside, hands buried in his pockets.
“Found you. Wow, you are filthy.” Jack’s face immediately screwed up in horror. “Aw man! This is just gross. How can you stand the stench?”
“Yes, yes,” Raven replied dully. “I smell bad. You think I don’t realize?”
“Why are you laid up? Break something?”
“Yes.”
“What’d you break?”
“Everything.”
He laughed. “Alright then. So, I have some more tidbits of information. It isn’t much.”
“Tell me.”
“Seliph’s brother is a teacher in Roespeye.”
“You don’t say?”
“Alright, alright,” Jack retorted with mild irritation. “Doing my best here.” He flipped through his notes again. “Let’s see. He held a number of odd jobs throughout the city. Farmhand, city clerk, gondolier.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. The jobs probably helped him run cover. Did you discover anything related to the gems?”
“Not really. To be honest, it may be a dead end. Another old alley neighbor I tracked down seemed to suggest Seliph wasn’t a Gemmer at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“This lady said she never saw him with jewels. Only big handfuls of metal sticks.”
Raven jolted up. “You mean rods?” he repeated. “What kind of rods?”
“It can’t be…” Rue said.
Jack’s eyebrows rose at Raven’s sudden piqued interest. He flipped through his notes in a hurry. “She didn’t say. She said they were small and thin, like glowing flutes.”
“The rods glowed? What color?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Jack, listen to me. This is important. If you can get me the name of the contraband Seliph was smuggling, I’ll triple whatever payment you’re owed.”
His eyes lit up. “Well now you’re speaking my language! That kind of talk almost makes me forget you smell like a dozen dead cats… almost.”
“You have one week. Get to it.”
Raven laid back down after Jack left, mind churning.
“What are the odds it’s really him?” Rue asked. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.”
“You’re right, but… if the rods Seliph were smuggling happen to be what I hope it is.”
“Yes, then it can only be him.”
“It fits.” Raven sighed. “If only I had the time or energy to look into this right now.”
“Leave it to Jack. You need rest, Raven. Tomorrow starts the last week. You have to finish by the sixth day, or else this was all for nothing.”
Raven tossed and turned all night. The cost of the task gnawed on his mind. So much time spent, so much time lost. Only when his thoughts turned back to Noelle did he find sleep. It was a good thing, too, because in the morning, he felt intimidated by the tower for the first time. His construction now stood like a mighty fortress compared to the crumbling towers all around it. Only one more level remained; however, that meant the steps had grown by another level. Just one climb was daunting, but he now had to pick up the pace.
As he surveyed the refreshed pile of stones, he breathed deep and closed his eyes. The idea of repeating his work for a fourth week threatened to crush his spirits. He was so tired. He shook his head and looked up, clenching his fists.
Look what I have built. By my own hands I will complete the work. Gervany… Melody… watch me.
The labor commenced once again. Around and around he went as he climbed the spiral staircase. A brisk wind caught him off guard for a moment before he steadied himself and continued to the top. The altitude of his tower proved far more immense than he had first considered. As he set his first stone in place, he paused to look out over the city. His tower was far taller than anything in the vicinity. Any other vantage within the reyk should now be able to spot his tower peaking above the local sightlines, and he was curious who might have wondered about it.
But there was no time to linger. Raven headed back down, energized by newfound urgency. The burden of the looming timeline gave him strength day after day. Each night, the surrounding walls of the last level were gradually built by the nameless masons using his stones, followed by another staircase. As the level was built, it curved further inward, forming a much smaller platform on the top.
On the evening of the fifth day of the week, Raven heaved his last rock to the top. He moaned in agony and collapsed to the newly formed floor, caked in dust and drenched in sweat. The moisture ran down his face, stinging his eyes, but he could barely form the energy to blink it away. His blood-stained clothes were torn nearly to shreds, and his whole body trembled.
Saxon waited nearby. He approached and knelt beside him, placing a hand on his back. Before Raven faded into unconsciousness, he heard Saxon speak.
“One more day, lad. Just the bell is left.”
The next morning, Raven slowly opened his eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, he realized he was back in his cot. Had Saxon carried him back down the tower? Or had he done it himself and forgotten?
“You’re up,” Rue said.
“How long has the sun been up?” Raven croaked.
“Not long. I debated how long I should let you sleep.”
Raven slowly sat up. Black spots burst before his eyes, and he could feel his muscles protest in every strand. He rolled over, falling onto the ground. Just the effort caused his breathing to labor and the sweat to return. His body toed the edge of all-out rebellion against him.
“Oh dear. You knocked over your breakfast.”
“Yesterday was the last time I eat that dreadful food.”
“You need your strength.”
“Noelle is almost mine. This thought is all the strength I need.”
He slowly stood, bracing himself against the nearby wall. Step by step, he limped toward the door until he was back outside. He winced from the bright morning sun. It would be another hot day.
When he gained his surroundings, he found Saxon standing nearby, looking at him. His arms were clasped behind his back, but he no longer appeared grouchy. Just focusing on him caused Raven to get woozy. He placed his hand on the door jamb and shook his head. But the dizziness remained.
“I have to admit,” Saxon said softly. “I didn’t think you could do this. I apologize, lad.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Raven replied hoarsely.
“Yes… the bell is ready for you.”
He crossed the road into the field. Raven mustered the strength to follow. He fell several times, but forced himself back up each time. The gnawing agony of his empty stomach was matched only by the raw protest of every muscle he possessed. After falling yet again, he crawled on his hands and knees the last few spans before leaning back on his legs to stare up at the tower. Several identical structures drifted in and out of his vision, accompanied by more black and white spots.
Saxon stood beside the last test. A massive white bell had been placed beside the stairway. The Eagle Dawn Banner of Zaliance adorned the metal surface of the bell, engraved in gold.
“It comes to this,” Saxon said. “You must carry this bell to the top and hang it in the belfry the masons built. Do this and you complete the Tasks. But the bell must be rung before the sun sets, or…”
Raven nodded. He closed his eyes and placed his hands in Grand Harmony.
He was so exhausted. Not in a lifetime could he have imagined the difficulty of this trial. In the past, he had often pondered the peculiar look King Gervany had given him the day he first charged Raven with the Tasks. Only now did he realize it had been pity.
Raven grimaced. How naïve he had been at the time. Of course this was difficult. Of course this was impossible! Of course so many had failed before him. That a rat from Surlance should request the hand of the princess of Zaliance – should not the difficulty of the Task equal the absurdity of the request? For the first time… Raven doubted. How would he do this? His body was broken. In the farthest depths of mind and soul was he crushed. Yet, the hardest labor of all remained.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Then again… he was almost done, wasn’t he? All around him, unfinished towers silently wept in the shadow of his product. Just one more climb remained. And Noelle would be watching the entire time.
Spurred by that thought, he slowly stood and approached the bell. It sat in the grass, taunting him with its gaudy shine. He glared at the bell angrily. Breathing deep, he started to bend down. Saxon cleared his throat, interrupting him.
“Before you start, there’s something I need to give you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and producing another folded sheet of paper. “Almost forgot. Your man, Jack Storne, dropped this off with me this morning.”
Raven took the paper and unfolded it. Inside was written a single word.
Vitronite
He stared at the paper for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Of course it was you all along, Villain!” he shouted gleefully.
“You seem to have gained back some strength,” Saxon said in surprise.
Raven crunched the paper up and tossed it over his shoulder before bending over and lifting one end of the bell. His back groaned in protest under the massive weight. With gritted teeth, Raven lifted the bell just enough to clear the height of the first step and place it on the edge. He then circled the bell and lifted the other end to place it fully on the stair.
“One step down,” Rue said.
“A thousand more to go,” he replied.
Step by brutal step, Raven worked to deliver the bell to its final resting place. Bones creaked, muscles ripped, lungs burned. There could be no rest. No food. And no mistakes. Just one miscue, and the bell could tumble. The Tasks would be lost. It did not take long for Raven to realize he was running out of time. At the hour of his normal lunch break, he had only brought the bell up a third of the way.
The pace had to surge. New urgency gave him a boost from a source he knew not, but was grateful for all the same. The next level came, and then another. The sun galloped across the sky, reckless in its pursuit of his failure. Raven pushed, clawed, and scrapped with the malicious bell. He even yelled at it, demanding its compliance before taking it up one more step. And then another. Rage, fear, and hope fueled his body with each step, only to be drained completely by the time he finished it. Legs and arms shook violently, and his back screamed in violent dissent.
Day diminished to evening. The sun faded to orange. Only one level remained.
The sight of his last staircase jolted through him. Raven beat his chest and yelled at the top of his lungs. He lifted the whole bell, setting the mighty instrument atop his thigh. He took one step and lifted it through gritted teeth, groaning mightily. Then another step. And another.
He yelled again. “I will do this!” Another step. “I will do this!” One more.
“I will do this! I will do this! I WILL DO THIS!”
The bell crashed onto the final platform and Raven fell beside it. Gasping and wheezing, he peered through half closed eyes at the setting sun.
“Raven!” Rue shouted frantically. “You’re almost done! You’ve made it to the top! You just have to hang the bell!”
Raven slowly got up, but he collapsed over the bell, gasping for air. The world spun in circles.
“Raven, get up. Oh, please get up! You are so close!”
He slowly lifted himself. Placing his hands around the metal hook, Raven pulled, dragging the bell toward the small belfry, minuscule distances at a time. Another hook hung from the belfry, just next to his head.
Raven tried to lift the bell. But he collapsed again. Darkness surrounded him. Rue’s urging voice became far away. All strength was gone. Oblivion waited with outstretched arms, beckoning him into the mercy of slumber.
“Raven…”
Something in the distance called out to him. Something gentle. He listened.
“Raven… you…”
This was not Rue. He searched the darkness, seeking this familiar voice.
“Raven… you are my own. You are mine.”
Raven opened his eyes.
He stood.
“My own,” he whispered.
With a tremendous groan, Raven lifted up the edge of the bell with one hand and picked it up by the hook with the other. The shredding of his muscles and senses shrieked as he slowly lifted the bell. Only a sliver of the sun remained in the sky. With all his remaining might, Raven heaved the white bell up, snagging the hook. He let go and raced to the edge of the tower. He found a long hammer propped against the wall. He took it and swung it against the bell.
The victory gong blasted deep into the night. He rang it twice. Three times. He crumpled, falling on his back, spread eagle. The reverberations of the bell’s toll rang for several minutes. Still heaving, Raven turned his head and watched as the sun’s last light dipped below the horizon.
“Well done, Raven!” Rue said. “I knew you could do it! I just knew it.”
He nodded, but didn’t respond for several minutes. Every breath burned like fire. It felt like his body was falling apart.
It must have been an hour when he regained some clarity. When he did, he slowly got to his feet. The cooling air embraced his face with a gentle zephyr, and the realization finally reached him in that moment. The nightmare was over at last. After years of torment at the very prospect… he was done.
Noelle Rose Alexis Sevalier, Commander of the White Fleet, Princess of Zaliance… would be his bride.
“You can use pandora now,” Rue reminded him as they looked out over the city. The lights of the metropolis began to twinkle in the growing night.
“Oh, trust me… I know.”
He took a step over the edge of the tower and plunged to the ground. Rue’s power reached out, pushing against the terrain and slowing him to a gentle descent. Raven lightly touched down to the amazement of Saxon, who stood nearby.
Someone stood beside him, a young man Raven knew. He had short close-cropped hair and wore the black-feathered clothing of the local gentility. A mixed look of contempt and amazement washed over him before quickly retreating to a guarded stare.
Raven limped up to Saxon. Noelle’s steward cleared his throat. “Well done, lad. Very well done. You have achieved the impossible! The Tasks are completed. I bear witness to your achievement, as does Sir Quinn Adromen here. Fulfillment of the Tasks require two witnesses. He kindly volunteered as my second.”
“Yes, I know who he is,” Raven said.
“So, this is the boy who would marry our princess?” Quinn said, folding his arms. “I expected you to be taller.”
“I expected nothing about you.”
Quinn fell silent, looking at him scornfully.
Raven looked all around, searching for what he hoped would not appear. Saxon was about to speak when Raven held up his hand, indicating he required silence for a moment. He searched through the darkness, waiting… but the man did not show himself. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he lowered his arm.
Saxon cleared his throat and extended his hand, presenting Raven with a small black box. He opened it, revealing a set of orb earrings. They were identical to the pair Raven now wore, except they were purple. Raven removed his current green pair and replaced them with the shimmering symbol of his triumph.
Saxon smiled and extended his hand to the shack. “Your bride-to-be awaits.”
Raven briefly looked at the hut in the distance before looking back at Saxon. He picked up his pack, which lay nearby, and slung it over his shoulder.
“No thanks.” He turned to leave.
“What?” Saxon stammered angrily. “Where are you going? My lady awaits! She has been watching this entire time!”
Raven stopped and turned back. “I have pressing matters to attend to. She will have to wait.”
“How dare you!” Saxon raged. “How dare you speak in such an uncouth manner. How could you think such a thing? This would be an embarrassment! A shame to Princess Noelle! You cannot do this. You must meet with her and formerly request her hand!”
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I did all this out of love?”
Saxon seethed, turning red. “I knew it. I KNEW IT! You just wanted power. You cared nothing for the princess!”
“Careful how you speak to me,” he replied calmly. “I will soon be your king.”
Saxon opened his mouth to object, but he fell silent. His fists shook with rage.
Quinn, however, seemed delighted. “There are ways around this. You clearly don’t know Princess Noelle. Do you honestly believe she would marry a scoundrel such as you?”
“She has no choice. The crown of Zaliance is mine.” Raven turned and headed back down the road. “Until I next return, I bid you farewell… good night, gentlemen.”
Raven grimaced as he limped along.
“Saxon will understand in time,” Rue said. She sounded as depressed as he felt. “The Titan must never know that you love her.”
He nodded. “The deed is done,” he whispered. “Let’s get our reward.”
“Oh yes! I nearly forgot!”
It took an incredibly long time and several rest breaks for Raven to make his way back into the city. He could have used pandora to assist him, but something about the finality of the journey caused a desire to walk the hardest path right until the end. The Tasks were years in the making, after all. Taking the oldtown roads south, he finally arrived in Brak Burroughs, a village known for its access to astonishing hot springs as well as its deep ties to the black markets. Raven limped down the cobbled lanes, ignoring the stares of many walking the same roads. After hours of painful hobbling, he finally arrived at his destination, and his relief could not be measured.
The inviting lights of Trelian Bath drew him inside, through the purple curtained doorway and across richly carpeted paths. The warm, bright entrance featured wood panel walls adorned with gorgeous paintings and large mirrors. Squeaky clean and refreshed patrons stared at him and plugged their noses, aghast as they passed by. But Raven paid them little mind. He came to a well-dressed man in a deep blue suit manning a wooden booth. Slick, black hair ran down to his shoulders and a thin mustache adorned a small, puckered mouth. A golden crest adorned the pocket of his suit. He held a long black baton, which he waved animatedly as he spoke to one of his customers.
All that changed when he laid eyes on Raven.
“Master Raven!” he nearly shouted. Wide eyes quickly came to realization. He turned to the other person. “I’m very sorry sir. We’ve just had a change in circumstance. It will have to be another day. So sorry.”
The customer turned away disappointed, and the bath clerk approached Raven with wringing hands. “Is now the time, Master Raven?”
Raven nodded. “The Task is done, Mr. Henry. I am here to receive what I requested.”
“Of course, sir! I should have known that strange bell toll was from your tower. Congratulations! Oh, and please call me James, sir. Yes, it shall be done right away.” He snapped his fingers, and one of his maids approached. She wore rich pink robes, and her hair was done up extravagantly with golden lace. “Yvette, we must empty Trelian Bath. Alert the staff. Not a single customer shall remain.”
She nodded and scurried off. In no time, the large bathhouse was emptying of confused former revelers in varying state of dampness and dress. However, they each received a full refund of whatever they had paid and were made to be on their way. Within the hour, Trelian Bath was emptied and twelve staff stood at attention beside James Henry, the master of the establishment.
“Trelian is at your disposal, Master Raven.”
Raven smiled. “I want everything, James.”
He nodded, and they got to work. The largest hot spring bath was made available to him, a deep steaming pool formed out of the rock and open to the night air. Henry’s male attendants helped Raven in, as he did not have the strength to get in himself.
But once in the pool, his pain completely and utterly melted away. The perfectly heated water coaxed its way into every nook and cranny of his body, soothing and massaging his sore frame. A month of dirt, grime, sweat, and blood washed away. A soothing breeze ruffled the leaves of large trees in the garden surrounding the pool, and the calming chirps of crickets assured him of his solitude. He had been dreaming of this since the first night.
He did not stay in the bath for long, because a greater pain still gnawed at him. He was given a soft, extravagant robe after getting out. Once dressed, he was helped to the largest room, a bed chamber fit for a king. The single immense bed featured soft, white linens and thick, smooth blankets. It would have been hard not to fall asleep were it not for the smells.
On several nearby tables, platters of the finest foods Trelian could produce awaited. Tender steaks and decadent chops, vine-ripened berries and melons, buttered potatoes, baked casseroles, fresh breads and cakes, chocolates and ice cream, and more delectables side dishes than he could count. A violinist sat in one corner, serenading those in attendance.
The attendants waited on Raven hand and foot with Henry orchestrating the ensemble cast with every wave of his baton. Raven consumed plate after plate of the delicious offerings, partaking of everything they had to offer. Attendants worked to massage his arms, legs and back. Henry called in the local doctor, who came at a moment’s notice, and attended to Raven’s many wounds with several incredible pandora. For hours, his needs were met in every single way. And finally, when he was satisfied and the doctor departed, he fell into a deep sleep. The attendants left him, and all was quiet.
He slept for half a day. When he awoke, he was deeply sore, but in a much better way than he had been for the last month. Over the course of the next three days, Raven feasted on succulent meals and bathed in mineral-rich hot springs. In the mornings, he rested on verandas overlooking the city, sipping rich coffees and therapeutic teas. In the evenings, he was treated to calming musical performances from the city’s best artists. And when he wasn’t doing any of those things, he slept. He slept and slept and slept. With each meal, bath, and rest, he regained his senses and energy. No one besides the staff and musicians were allowed inside Trelian, and no one outside Trelian was told why.
In the back of his mind, Roespeye itched at Raven. He needed to get back soon. But it was a small itch. His recovery was necessary, as there was still much to be done. And he trusted Valentine and Van to make progress in his stead.
He intended to stay another few days, in fact. However, on the fourth day, Raven was awoken in startling fashion by James Henry opening the sliding door.
“Master Raven! I apologize for disturbing your slumber, but I have an urgent letter for your eyes only.”
Raven sat up in the bed. “From who?”
“Lord Slipfire, sir!”
Raven took the letter and broke the seal. His shoulders slumped as he read the note from Arkh. He breathed deep, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He reread the letter, just to be certain before shaking his head despondently.
“Why so melancholy, Master Raven?” Henry asked.
“Ah, James… forgive me. This is some truly unfortunate news. It seems it has arrived before reaching the ears of this great city. For that, I am grateful. I’m afraid I must be on my way.”
“But your wounds are not yet fully healed, sir. What could cause such a change in your plans?”
“Do you know of Rapshuron?”
“Yes, of course. A town just outside Reyk Mune. Famous for their fine garments and textiles.”
“It would seem the Titan paid a visit.”
Henry gasped. “Oh no! How many dead?”
“All of them… he killed all of them.”
Dread came over the man. “Oh God! But… that city is very large. Ten thousand people at least!”
“Gather my things, James. I must be off.”