Rise of the Dead Prince (17 page)

His heart suddenly moved in his chest. It felt like a thunderbolt! His humanity was dragged up and into his cold body, and there it pulsed. The air rushed into his lungs like a winter
gale.

“I love Allie!” he yelled to the heavens. The exclamation was also directly in the inky face of his obnoxious instructor, which startled the bird so much that he flew backward off Meier’s arm in a fluttering mess of feat
hers.

“
GAH
!” shouted Raven and then with a few wing beats was back on Meier’s arm and muttering again. “Well, um, yes, that will do it, I
suppose.
You humans. I swear. Love conquers all? What a silly species of spurious simpletons you are. Do you even
know
her all that well? But forgive the assumption. It is a
her
, right?” Raven puffed himself up into a fluffy ball of stray feathers. Meier smiled at him like a love-struck idiot, ignoring his cynical, bilious comm
ents.

“
WHOOOO-HOOO
!” he cried out, and in a stunning breach of protocol, he reached out and brushed the feathers down on Raven’s wing. “Not even you can deny the power of love, Raven! You beautiful, bitter bird, you!” Raven squawked so loud that it almost dampened Meier’s spirit, but at the moment, there was nothing in the world that could have succeeded in doing that. Raven flew straight up and cawed again. The bird’s casual tone of disdain had just escalated to unbridled fury and out
rage.

“No
TOUCHING
! What is wrong with you?” he yelled in Meier’s face as he hovered. “Ugh! Bleh! Disgusting! You got your hideous reek on my beautiful wings! I ought to peck your eyes out!
GAH
!” Meier’s smile lessened but was still very much pre
sent.

“Sorry about that, Raven. I just
…
couldn’t
…
help
myself.” Meier whooped a
gain.

“I can’t
believe
you touched me,” he muttered bitterly. Raven fluttered around angrily, unwilling to get within reach in case Meier decided to violate his person again. Eventually, his indignation cooled. Eventually. “Well
…
it looks like returning to the living side of undeath is accompanied by an explosion of idiotic ecstasy. We should take note of that,” he said didactically. Meier held out his bony arm again and nodded to Raven inviti
ngly.

“Has your madness passed? Is it safe?” Raven asked mistrustfully. Meier nodded with a smile. “You’d better not molest me with your manky monkey mitts again, if you know what’s good for you,” said the bird, landing on Meier’s arm again. Meier held up his hand in solem
nity.

“I will not stroke your silky, soft feathers again without permission,” he said evenly. Raven sco
ffed.

“You bet your
beak
they’re silky,” he said begrudgingly. “Now let’s get down to it, shall we?” Raven said in his instructor
tone.

“Didn’t I just do it?” asked Meier, clearly conf
used.

“Ha!” said Raven. “Not remotely! You need to
master
this. So do it, hmmm, let’s say ten more times back and forth
…
and uh, you’ll be doing this while running south
…
because all your whooping has undoubtedly brought all the dead from a mile around.” Meier looked around but saw nothing. “Don’t look, idiot, just run! Always trust the bird!” barked R
aven.

Meier started running, all the while trying to turn to the dead side of undeath again. “Touch my wing, will you? Ha! I’m going to run you ragged for that! Ha!” called Raven, once again reliving the outrage of being touched. Meanwhile, Meier was halfway there, but it was taxing and strange trying to run and erase his breath at the same time. Still, he could feel it working. Sor
t of.

“You know, Meier, I’m going to enjoy this much more than you are,” Raven said, flying high as he did so. He then swooped down, laughing. “Oh, boy, you’d better speed up,” cackled Raven. “There’s so many of them,
AHAHAHA
! Faster, boy!” Meier picked up the pace and suddenly found himself limping a bit. With a push from within that was partly instinctive, he willed his numbing legs to move. When they did, he flew like the wind itself. Blood stilled, and breath evaporated. The muscles in his body turned cool and no longer told of strain or fatigue. The world turned gray as his insides turned still. Meier was dead a
gain.

24
Magic, Black in Wing and Claw

M
eier ran for miles and never felt it. Raven stopped him several times along the way and then flew in a wide circle around him, taking in all he saw. Each time, the safest path seemed to be south, which was quite odd to Meier given that the dead were still migrating in droves in that direction. While Raven flew around, Meier dedicated himself to switching from the realm of gray to the world of color. After doing it the first time, each subsequent attempt proved to be easier. It was especially easy to slip into death, whereas regaining himself was still a challenge. The intricacies of the realm in between the changes were something that Meier had noted but did not understand. There were moments in the middle that felt as though there were aspects of both, much like a melting piece of ice is somewhere between liquid and solid. While the individual sheets are always one or the other, the whole of it is somehow both for a brief time. It gave him much to think a
bout.

He could have spent longer thinking on it if he were not constantly being yelled at and ordered to run in some new direction. Still, the duo made their way south. In a way, it made sense. That is where they were going, but more than this, Raven had theorized that the safest place to be was close behind a large wave. Meier didn’t fully see the logic, but Raven was the self-declared expert on these things, and Meier didn’t have much choice an
yway.

Finally, Raven got tired, and it was time to camp for the night. It was already dark as ink, so much that Meier had tripped over a few things along the way. When he was in the world of gray, his vision was restricted significantly, and so if he wanted to be both fast and untiring, he either needed firelight or daylight to continue. Raven asked him if he had brought steel and flint with him, and Meier nodded yes, he
had.

“Good,” said Raven. “We might need it someday soon, but certainly not to make fires willy-nilly.” Meier had a few questions about everything, but the first thing was regarding the subject at hand. He pulled himself back to the world of color and took a deep br
eath.

“Won’t you get cold?” he asked the
bird.

“Ha!” he said loudly, cackling as he did. “You mammals are hilarious. We ravens are
above
such petty temperature complaints. Get it? Above? Anyway, even in the dead of winter and the swelter of summer, we are just fine. No need to worry about me, human. Once you furry things master flight, you’ll know some glimpse of the divinity that we birds enjoy.” Meier sat down and then leaned
back.

“What about bats? They’re mammals,” he said idly, unable or unwilling to resist the retort. Raven just squawked another note of laug
hter.

“Don’t talk to me about bats, simian. You want to hear a joke? Why do bats live in caves and only come out at night? Eh? Give up?
Because they’re so freakishly ugly!
AHAHA
!” Meier couldn’t help himself. He let out a little giggle, all the while shaking his head. “You get it?” Raven asked dryly. “They are afraid to go out because of the shame associated with their hideous ugliness. That’s why the joke is both true and funny.” Meier no
dded.

“Yes, I get it, thank you. No further explanation required,” he rep
lied.

“By the way, human, you should keep your voice down,” said Raven. Meier raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been very loud or so he tho
ught.

“I don’t understand, Raven. You are making far more noise than I am,” Meier said honestly, albeit in a hushed tone. Raven clicked his beak, puffed up, and then deflated. It must have been an exasperated
sigh.

“Sometimes I think it might be better to let you just think about your stupid remarks before I answer them,” he said condescendingly. Meier thought about it for a moment. Noise drew the dead. Was it all n
oise?

“You’re saying that your cawing and squawking doesn’t bring the dead, yet my lovely human voice does?” Raven cawed a burst of sarcastic laug
hter.

“Your humor is priceless and adorable, Meier. But to the point, yes, your observation, while painfully slow, is also precisely correct. These are undead humans after all, and the only enemy they have is living humans. The dulcet and musical tones of my language do not draw them. Think about it. Would they really try to chase a bird? No, of course not. Even the dead aren’t that stupid.” Raven stretched his wings and then planted himself on a high point a few feet
away.

“I suppose you have a point,” Meier admitted then stretched and yawned. After he caught himself, it was already too
late.

“What was that you just did?” asked Raven earne
stly.

“I don’t really know, Raven. I suppose it was just an involuntary impulse to you stretching your wings,” Meier admitted. Raven took a couple of bird hops closer to M
eier.

“Are you
tired?”
he asked honestly then cocked his head to one side. His sudden interest in this was baffling. Meier thought about the ques
tion.

“Actually, I am. A little. I haven’t been truly tired since it happened.” Raven abandoned his normally abusive tone and let out a low whistle that could only have been translated as an interested hum. He sounded genuinely fascin
ated.

“Have you slept at all since you died, Meier? Think hard. It’s important.” Meier took some time to res
pond.

“I don’t think I would call it sleeping. I’ve dozed a few times, but I was never fully unconscious, if that’s what you meant. I eventually gave up trying when I realized I didn’t need to. It was the same with food and drink. It all just seemed silly.” Raven hopped a few more times from side to side. Was he pa
cing?

“All right, Meier. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to get some sleep. Real sleep. Just like a living person,” Raven said finally. His voice seemed to have a tone of suppressed excitement. Meier was baf
fled.

“Right now? What about the
strigoi
? Shouldn’t I stay alert?” he a
sked.

“Don’t worry about that, Meier! I’ll keep an eye open. Just do what I told you,” Raven replied curtly. Meier sighed and for a few seconds said not
hing.

“I don’t understand, Raven. I’m not sure that I can do it. It’s like insomnia, but worse,” he admitted. Raven hopped over and came to rest right next to Meier’s head. Meier began to flinch. He expected that another one of Raven’s tirades was coming. Despite this expectation, Raven’s voice was calm, almost
kind.

“It’s important that you try, Meier,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything tonight. Forget
everything.
Just remember this. You’ve mastered the art of coming back to some semblance of life. If you try, you can do this. Now rest, Meier
…
please.”
It was the “please” that shocked Meier.
This truly must be important,
Meier thought,
if the great Raven would deign to ask ni
cely.

Meier focused and unfocused his mind’s eye. He concentrated, but then let his mind slip and run wild in any direction like the wind. With a deep breath, he felt sleep come. He let it wash over him; and then slowly, steadily, his muscles relaxed and his body went slack. Meier was asleep. In many ways, his slumber was like death itself, for it was a deep slumber. Suddenly, he was in the land of dreams, and what wondrous dreams came that night. He saw many things, many faces, many days and nights, all in every color. There was no pain or sorrow. All troubles were but a distant memory. The air was filled with quiet song, never quite audible, as though it were being played in the distance. Yes, Meier saw many things, and they all made sense. They were all part of the song, and as he gazed on, Meier saw each note in a color. Each had meaning, and the meaning was the flow of everything that had passed, and of everything that was to come. He smiled in contentment. It all made perfect sense. Meier knew it was all so important. He surely must take it with him to the waking w
orld.

Meier awoke to the blinking eyes of Raven looking down on him. His was a gaze of keen interest. Even his normally aloof appearance was completely absent. Meier blinked several times. The sun was coming up, painting the sky in a spectrum that spanned from deepest purple to brightest gold. Meier took a long breath and let it out. A smile crept onto his face. The wind whipped across the moor, wild and cool, and Meier felt it on his icy skin. He felt it as though he was truly alive again. Then it passed, just as quickly as it had come. Meier was awake. Slowly, he rose, and with his mouth wide, he yawned. Raven looked up at him and hopped twice in p
lace.

“Meier,” he said softly and then, after a few seconds, “what did you
see?”
Meier looked down at the expectant bird and smiled wa
rmly.

“I saw so much, Raven. It was all so glorious
…
and yet
…
even now it fades,” he admi
tted.

“Meier, such is the way with dreams. They are meant to fade. We are not meant to know all they contain. But listen! Tell me what you remember! Believe me when I say it matters.” Meier felt the urgency of it, but even though he tried, there was not much of anything
left.

“I remember walking in this field, bathed in golden light on the grass so green. I remember music and a feeling of overwhelming love and peace. There was no unlit corner in the world. I
…
remember parts of the song, but I could not sing them even if I tried. They were chords, blended together in harmony. And there was a person there, I think. The face is blocked out by the light. I can’t even say if it was male or female. I think that’s all I have, Raven.” Meier yawned again and slowly got to his feet. Raven sat at his feet in stunned silence. He si
ghed.

“If that’s all you have, then that’s all there is, Meier,” said the bird. Meier couldn’t ignore the disappointed tone to Raven’s v
oice.

“You were expecting something else?” asked M
eier.

“Yes,” Raven replied at once, “I was
…
but it doesn’t matter now, Meier.” There was a long bit of silence, and Meier took in the vista during the break. He could see the edge of the swamp in the distance. It was darkened by the dense canopy overhead, which added to the foreboding nature of the place. The reek of the swamp had not yet hit them. Still, they would be there by nightfall, possibly be
fore.

The first few hours of the day were marked by silence. Raven seemed lost in his thoughts, and Meier stayed in the gray world so he could trot along at a quickened pace. He was getting more and more used to controlling the switch, and after just one day, he had already got the knack down of changing within just a few seconds. Returning to the world of color still felt wonderful. Maybe it was just that it warmed him every time to think of Allie in general, or maybe it was like Raven had theorized, namely, that coming closer to life was always euphoric. Either way, he had nearly mastered the process. Understanding it was not a present priority. It was when the sun was high overhead, and the stink of the swamp had finally hit them, that Raven swooped down and, for the first time, landed on Meier’s shoulder. It was a surprisingly familiar and unexpected thing for him t
o do.

More than this, it seemed as though Raven’s general behavior had changed. He had not insulted Meier or yelled at him all day. Very odd indeed. Something was clearly on the bird’s mind, and the fact that he had landed on Meier’s shoulder without permission or warning was adequate proof of this. Meier stood stock still with his eyes closed and switched his persona to as human as he could mak
e it.

“What is it, Raven? Have you seen something?” asked Meier. Raven looked over at Meier with the one golden-rimmed eye that faced
him.

“I’ve seen quite a lot of things, Meier, and the way ahead is still safe. It is such that I don’t quite trust it
…
but that is not why I stopped,” Raven replied. His voice was cool and calm. The change in demeanor was baffling to Meier. He furrowed his brow. Raven cocked his head to one side and clicked his beak once. It was an inscrutable sound that didn’t really tell Meier much of anyt
hing.

“Would you extend your arm, Meier?” he said at last. Meier dutifully obeyed, and Raven hopped over to the bony perch of his skeletal left arm. The naked ulna, he found, made the perfect place to find a comfortable grip. “Thank you,” Raven said. There was no sarcasm in his voice. What had changed? Meier wondered, but knew better than to questio
n it.

Raven shook his head from side to side and then settled down with a sigh. Something was clearly bothering him, but Meier got the notion that he would not say exactly what it was; and indeed, he did not. “Meier, do you recall when I told you that I would teach you the ways of magic?” he asked. Meier nodded; yes, he remembered. “Good. Then we begin today. But first I must advise you of something,” he said plainly. Meier nodded again and waited in patient sil
ence.

“Ravens do not believe in destiny, Meier, nor do we believe in pure chance. Things simply happen, but the reasons they happen are because the factors are in place for them to happen. This may seem contradictory to you, but there is a subtlety there that, once realized, makes a certain foreknowledge of future events possible. Do you understand?” Meier took a moment to t
hink.

“I think so, yes, though not completely. You mean to say that Ravens can predict certain things, if their knowledge of the factors is present?” Raven no
dded.

“That was an acceptable assessment, yes, and for now it will do,” he said. “But to the point, you are an interesting factor, Meier. Your very existence is an anomaly. You simply should not be, yet here you are.” Meier was confused, and his expression showed this. Raven sighed. “You may think that I refer to your unlife, but I do not. Your general condition is one that is well known to us. There have, rarely, been humans that have mastered the world of gray, and these are typically men or women who seek immortality by these means.” Meier nodded. He was listening inte
ntly.