The black crow flies the.., p.1
The Black Crow Flies: (The Whittam Chronicles Book 1), page 1
The Black Crow Flies
BOOK 1 OF THE WHITTAM CHRONICLES
L. B. PERDAN
Cover art designed by semnitz™
Maps designed by Caleb P. Green
Interior images licensed from ShutterStock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by L. B. Perdan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
To my older brother, Joshua, who told me he’d read my book when it was “all done.”
Well, I did it. It’s all done.
You have no excuse.
(also, thanks for the motivation <3)
Contents
History of Whittam
Prologue
Ten Years Later
1. Catrice
2. Blaze
3. Catrice
4. Blaze
5. Catrice
6. Blaze
7. Catrice
8. Blaze
9. Catrice
10. Blaze
11. Catrice
12. Blaze
13. Catrice
14. Blaze
15. Catrice
16. Blaze
17. Catrice
18. Blaze
19. Catrice
20. Blaze
21. Catrice
22. Blaze
23. Catrice
24. Blaze
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by L. B. Perdan
History of Whittam
In the Anocican year 487, the people rebelled against the emperor, shattering the empire into five nations, in what would come to be known as the Great Split.
Legend says that seven brave men killed the tyrant emperor and stole his jeweled crown, breaking it into seven pieces and giving one to each man. This way, no one could claim the right to rule over the others. They were all equally victorious. Those men founded a new nation, Whittam, and its seven districts based on the colors of the shattered crown: White, Silver, Amber, Onyx, Crimson, Sapphire, and Emerald.
By the year 802, much of the original sentiment of equality among the Seven Noble Families had faded away, and infighting broke out across Whittam. At the height of war, when it looked as if the country would collapse, Geris Aetos, a Prophet of the Creator, called fire down from the heavens and stopped the fighting. He demanded peace, warning of a great destruction on the horizon if the Noble families continued in their ways. Fearful for their lives, the lords heeded his warning, and the war ended.
In an attempt to maintain the peace, the Council of Seven was formed; for the first time since the Great Split, the districts were united. Geris Aetos fell in love and married the lady of the White District and, in doing so, eventually took his place as lord and head of the Council.
The Aetos family remained on the Council until the year 1124, when war loomed once again. The country was flooded with refugees from the Oram Islands as the nation of Orik invaded the sovereign archipelago. Warren Tenaris, Commander of the Black Crows, asked the Council to let him lead a force to drive the Oriks out of the Oram Islands. Lord Marcus Aetos, Prophet and descendent of Geris Aetos, refused.
Shortly after, the Oriks invaded Whittam, massacring its people along the coastal districts and pushing inland. One by one, the lords came to Commander Tenaris, pleading with him to lead their armies to defeat the Oriks. He agreed if, in return, they pledged their allegiance to him. Desperate for a solution, all the Council members except Lord Marcus Aetos accepted. With their support, the Black Crows led a united Whittamese army to win the war, pushing their enemies back to Orik.
Whittam was safe again, but Lord Marcus Aetos still refused to pledge his allegiance to Commander Tenaris. Then, in the year 1126, Commander Tenaris led the Black Crows into battle once more…
Prologue
“IN THE ANOCICAN YEAR 1126, ON THE 12TH DAY OF THE 7TH MONTH, THE WHITE DISTRICT WAS SUBDUED UNDER KING WARREN TENARIS.” - THE ROYAL ARCHIVES OF WHITTAM
For the fifth time that day, Blaze Laskaris was hiding.
He watched from his lowered position in the tall grass as a tiny pair of bare feet stumbled through the meadow. The blooming summer flowers mingled throughout the field snapped and crumpled under the weight, leaving a winding path of matted destruction in the pasture. Blaze rolled his eyes. Catrice would never find him if she kept wandering aimlessly like this.
“Blaze, come on!” Catrice’s high-pitched voice filled the quiet valley. “Let me win this time, at least...” She pouted and crossed her arms.
He glanced behind her at the city of Ontiach. Lady Vivian Aetos watched their antics from her guarded position just outside the city gates. Her elegant blue robes flowed around her as she raised a hand, blocking her eyes from the setting sun. It was getting late, and they would have to go inside soon. Aunt Diana would be making dinner, and she would make him wash up before they could eat.
He sighed and straightened from his crouched position, rustling the violet belldrops surrounding him from their resting place. Catrice’s face lit up in excitement as she pointed and ran toward him.
“I found you!” she squealed, latching onto his sleeve.
“Not fair!” Izaak’s voice rang out from behind him. Blaze turned, dragging Catrice with him as she remained attached to his shirt. His little brother stood a few feet away, fists bunched at his side and face scrunched in a disappointed frown that nearly obscured the bright blue eyes that matched Blaze’s own. “It was my turn to find you.”
Blaze groaned. It was always Izaak’s turn.
“I found him first!” Catrice stuck her tongue out at Izaak, and Blaze’s sleeve tightened on his arm as she reinforced her grip.
Blaze pivoted toward her, blocking his brother from her gaze, and returned her taunting expression. “Only ‘cause it’s your birthday, Catrice. If it was any other day, I wouldn’t be so nice.” He shook her off his arm. “You’re too little. You’d never find me by yourself.”
“Nuh-uh! You’re only ten, Blaze, so you’re still little too.” Her bottom lip jutted back out into the familiar pout.
“But not as little as you. Seven-year-olds are really little.” He tapped Catrice on the head to emphasize his point. She smacked his hand away as if it were a bothersome fly.
“Eight. I'm eight now, Blaze. Same as Izaak.” She nodded and, glaring at him, held up eight stubby fingers in his face.
“Yeah!” Izaak held up his hand but added an extra finger, failing to match her number.
“Whatever. You’re both still little…” A mischievous grin appeared on his face. “And you may have found me, but you still have to catch me!” He jumped away from their grasping hands and took off deeper into the meadow.
“Not fair!” Izaak yelled after him again.
A flock of birds retreated to the nearby trees and a dozen butterflies took to the air as their chase wound through the meadow. Blaze laughed as the colorful wings encircled him before disappearing in the blinding sunlight streaming over the hill at the end of the valley.
A single dark rider appeared at the top of the hill, momentarily blocking out the bright sunset. His silhouette cast a long, ominous shadow over the field.
Loud bells broke through the silence in the valley.
Blaze skidded to a dead halt. Catrice promptly ran into him, followed immediately by Izaak, and the two bounced off him and fell in a heap into the flowers. Blaze whirled around to face Ontiach, where the large bell in the city hall’s steeple flew back and forth, every swing sending a deep clang throughout the meadow. More guards poured out of the gates and surrounded Lady Vivian. His heart dropped.
“Let’s go, Izaak.” Blaze grabbed his brother’s hand and yanked him from the ground before pulling him toward the beaten path leading to the main gate. He could hear Catrice’s quick, labored breaths behind him as she struggled to keep up. He slowed to a jog, but kept a hard gaze on the main entrance ahead.
Father’s words echoed in his mind with every step.
“Take care of your brother, Blaze, especially when the bell rings. I’ll be back soon.”
Those were the last words he had said to Blaze. Two years ago, Father had left to fight in the war that all the adults refused to talk about. Father hadn’t returned, and no one would tell Blaze why.
Guards swarmed around them as they approached the gates, ushering them through the wooden doors in the tall, stone walls surrounding the city. With urgent gestures, the watchman atop his tower beckoned the group further inside. Blaze tightened his grip on Izaak’s hand.
Lady Vivian broke through the group and rushed toward them, taking Catrice up in her arms and hugging her tightly. Blaze put an arm over Izaak’s shoulders, pulling him close, and turned back to the gates behind him as they slowly began to close.
He stayed focused on the horizon, squinting against the bright sunset as the doors came closer together. The rider remained at his post at the valley’s edge and drew his sword. The evening light re
Ten Years Later
1
Catrice
“WARREN TENARIS AND HIS MEN APPROACH ONTIACH, AND THEY BRING MY LAST DAY WITH THEM, BUT THE CREATOR PROMISES ANOTHER PROPHET WILL RISE UP. ONE WHO WILL SAVE OUR PEOPLE AND HELP THE THRONE SEE THE TRUTH AGAIN.” - THE LAST TESTIMONY OF PROPHET MARCUS AETOS
“Hurry up!” Catrice shouted over her shoulder as she ran through the crowded street.
Bunching up her plain dress around her knees, she ducked under a low-hanging sign jutting out from the side of a fruit stand. Shouts and laughter mingled behind her, followed by the unmistakable thunk of Tay hitting his head on the sign.
She kept running, dodging the people walking past different wooden and stone houses and buildings lining the road. Two ladies haggled over a bundle of mixed herbs two stands down. One of their husbands sat against the edge of the stand, wide-brimmed hat slouched over his eyes as if he were napping. A handful of Lord Royn’s soldiers made their way from stall to stall, collecting the month’s dues, with the local tax collector nipping at their heels. Farther down, a group of children no older than six drew circles in the dirt, taking turns jumping in and out of them in some nonsensical game. Their giggles echoed down the street before disappearing into the breeze.
She blew past them all within seconds, keeping her head down as she passed the soldiers.
“Elynn! Elynn, slow down!” Tay called out behind her.
She rolled her eyes, dropped the skirt of her dress, and slid past two of the large crates lined up between market stands before ducking into an alley on the other side. She skidded to a stop as the alley broke open to another street lined with more wooden stands sporting an array of fruits, vegetables, dried meats, and various goods from across the Amber District. The busy street was less than a mile away from where she and Mother lived, but it often felt like another country, as if they were aliens passing through.
Vendors from across the Seven Districts boasted relics and delicacies from the farthest nations of Anocica. Some wore unfamiliar, patterned robes, head coverings, and shoes that blended in a sea of rainbows before her eyes. Others were dressed in more solid colors and simplistic, layered designs more reflective of the working class of Whittam.
The diversity and sheer population of the city folk allowed her and Mother to blend in most of the time. They had once risked living within another town—village, really—a few years prior, but it hadn’t lasted long. Mother had said people ask too many questions when you’re close to their home, especially if you’re the outsider. The city of Deln, on the other hand, was sizable, large enough to get lost in the crowd and carried away to distant lands as exotic perfumes and spices filled the air, and large enough that Mother felt safe, and that’s what mattered.
A storefront on the other side of the road stood out from the otherwise dull buildings. Bright, painted letters dominated the windows, advertising an array of parchment, ink, and writing utensils. Catrice wiped a fresh layer of sweat from her brow and jogged across the road, weaving her way through the flow of strangers. Glancing both ways before stepping up to the entrance, she pushed open the door. A bell rang above her. As she entered, a middle-aged man stood up behind the counter.
“Morning, Elynn.” The name everyone knew her by flew from his mouth without any hesitation.
“Good morning, Bard. How’s little James doing?”
“Oh, he’s on the mend. The doctor said he should make a full recovery.” He smiled at the mention of his son’s name and picked up a stained towel from the countertop. “Thanks to your mother, anyway. Her herbal tea did wonders for his stomach.” A tattered apron hung over his neck. The blotches of ink that marred his hands faded a bit as he dried them off with the cloth. “What can I do for you today?”
Catrice had just opened her mouth to respond when the door crashed open behind her, sending the bell clanging again. Tay stumbled up beside her, resting his hands on his knees, gasping. She fought to keep a grin from playing at her lips.
She leaned toward Tay. “For the record, I beat you again,” she whispered.
“For the record”—Tay paused to take a gulp of air—“you cheated.”
“Just like the last seven times?”
“You have to take some kind of short cut. That’s the only explanation.”
“The only explanation is that I know these streets better after two years than you do after your whole life.”
Tay gaped, struggling to find an adequate response. She smirked and turned back to the Bard, pulling a drawstring pouch from the belt slung over her hips and placing it on the counter. The dozen or so coppers inside clinked against each other.
Bard nodded, and amusement danced across his features at Tay’s lack of retort. “The usual?”
“Yes, please.”
She clasped her hands in front of her as he ducked behind the counter. She gazed around the small shop lit up by the morning sun streaming through the thick, dusty windows. The scents of acidic ink and warm, freshly dried parchment wafted from every corner, putting her mind at ease. Bard reappeared and placed an open crate full of parchment, dark ink bottles, and feathered pens on the counter. Catrice inspected the contents inside and smiled before lifting the crate and balancing it against her side.
“Perfect, thank you.”
“Of course.” Bard emptied the pouch and started counting the coins. He paused and looked up as if considering something. “How old are you now, Elynn?”
“I’ll be eighteen next week.”
“Well.” He scooped the coppers into his hand. “You’re a little older than most, but I have an apprenticeship opening up soon. Tay’s shown me some of your script work.”
“He did?” She spun around to Tay. He was holding a bottle of ink to the sunlight, blush creeping up his cheeks, and he shrugged his shoulders. Catrice’s chest warmed, and she turned back to Bard.
“It’s good work. It would seem your mother taught you well.” He offered her a square of parchment with a scribbled list across the front. “If you’re interested, the job is yours. I’ll need your family information and a copy of your travel papers for the annual census. As soon as you fill that out, we can get started.”
Her heart dropped. Of course. The one thing she couldn’t provide. She stared at the parchment and forced herself to continue smiling.
“Thank you.” She took the list and dropped it into the crate.
“Anything for the Halvors.” Bard beamed and tossed her empty coin pouch into the crate. He turned to Tay as Catrice stepped back. “I have yours, too.”
He glanced at the windows, waiting as a family passed by the store, before sliding a short stack of pamphlets across the counter.
Tay jumped forward, swiping the literature and grinning ear to ear. “Did this just come in?”
“Last night. My boys have been working in the back, making copies all morning.”
Catrice wrinkled her nose as Tay flipped through the familiar pamphlets. They were simple and always the same: a small, folded square of parchment filled with complaints against the king, reports of district soldiers and Black Crows abusing their power, and calls to join local rebel groups. A circular seal dominated the front page. The unique image of an owl in mid-flight with talons extended forward had started appearing in the rebel propaganda just a few months earlier, and was already spreading like wildfire.
