Silverblood Raven Book 2:
A Path of Secrets and Dreams

by Nikki McCormack

Raven could almost enjoy this life where her biggest concern is chasing off beasts that stray too close to town, but the silver-eyed shadow haunting her sleep has her on edge.

Then a man she never expected to see again warns her that the Silverblood Brotherhood is hunting her once more. His words confirm her suspicions that her nocturnal visitor is more than a mere nightmare.

The only way to protect her new home now is to leave it, but she has nowhere to go until the discovery of an item that belonged to her mother opens a door for someone else to enter her dreams. Someone who might be able to help her if she can survive long enough to reach him.

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Information:

Title: A Path of Secrets and Dreams, Silverblood Raven Book Two
Author: Nikki McCormack
Cover Art: Robert Crescenzio
Publisher: Elysium Books
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Length: 378 pages
Release Date: September 2022
ISBN: 978-1-7367938-4-8

Excerpt from A Path of Secrets and Dreams: Silverblood Raven Book Two

by Nikki McCormack

Copyright © 2022 by Nikki McCormack. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

CHAPTER ONE

Raven’s soft boots found easy purchase on the rooftop of the newly rebuilt blacksmith shop on the northeastern edge of town. It was one of the first structures the Stonebreakers finished rebuilding. The clang of hammer on steel and the heat from the now-operational forge were comforting. Having a functioning smithy in town was one of several things speeding up reconstruction. However, she hadn’t come up here to appreciate that or even escape the press of folks working in the streets.

She sank to one knee and watched a harpy circling above the trees at the forest’s edge. They hadn’t seen harpies this close since they drove them from their nesting grounds several months ago. She leveled an arrow at the creature, ready to try to spook it away with a warning shot. After a few more seconds of observation, she lowered her bow.

The beast dipped clumsily in the air, one side losing power with every few strokes of its great wings. As that side dropped low again, she noticed the rust color of drying blood staining the underside of the tan and ivory plumage. The trail of blood extended from the shoulder to the tip of the last feather on that side. The creature struggled to stay aloft.

She didn’t turn when someone came up behind her, recognizing Ehric’s solid footsteps. With his height and heavy musculature, it made her uneasy having the dark-skinned Stonebreaker warrior climbing on rooftops. Add to that the weight of the steel and leather armor he wore, and it made sense to her that he should be too heavy to manage such light-footed work. Despite that, she found his presence oddly reassuring. He had been there the night she nearly died – briefly had died in truth – after fighting the Silverblood Brotherhood priest, Father Wayland Mallebron. Ehric had helped Phendaril lift her over the temple gate and get her into the back of the coach. It was irrational, since she had been barely conscious at the time, but she implicitly trusted him now.

His shadow fell over her. “What do you see? Is it a threat?”

“It isn’t, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a threat.” She glanced up at him, smiling faintly at how he shielded his eyes from the light with one hand and peered hard at the distant creature. Without elven or Silverblood eyesight, he would learn little by looking, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “It’s injured,” she said, sparing him the frustration. “The fact that it flew this way instead of back to the nesting ground makes me wonder if it was hurt there.”

“Implying there might be a threat out there we should be concerned about.”

Raven nodded. The harpies had found new nesting grounds in the northeastern corner of Amberwood territory, far enough away that they posed no threat to the population or livestock of the recovering town. The people of Amberwood were content to let the creatures live in peace, but something else appeared to be causing them grief now.

She stood, watching the beast in the distance as it found a large branch to land on where it could rest the injured wing. “Perhaps we should get a few more scouts together to investigate.”

“I already sent word to Phendaril,” he answered.

As if on cue, the sound of approaching horses reached her. Disappointment sat heavy in her chest. If they struck out on horseback, that meant they would be going without her. Until a few weeks ago, she had never touched a horse. Even with Phendaril’s patient guidance, the experience was far from triumphant. She’d screeched and almost fallen on her ass when the animal lipped her fingers, looking for a treat. Phendaril laughed so hard while trying to soothe the startled horse that she still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for it.

Ehric was heading down off the roof of the smithy via a low shed full of coal that groaned under his bulk. Raven took a more direct route, hopping off the front into the street. She wasn’t invulnerable, but she was a Silverblood, which meant she had magical enhancements that boosted her physical abilities beyond those of an average individual with equivalent training. Combined that with the instruction her adopted father Jaecar had given her and the better-than-human agility, vision, and hearing provided by her half-elven blood, and she possessed significant advantages. Though the last several months had shown her how little those things mattered in some situations.

Phendaril and Veylin trotted up, stopping their mounts in front of the smithy. Veylin led a third horse behind her for Ehric. Raven glanced up at Phendaril, appreciating how the sun brought out the deep auburn in his long, nearly black hair. She loved his fierce, dark eyes. She even loved the scar that ran down from inside his right eyebrow and along his nose to his lip on that side. What she appreciated most was the pleasure in his eyes and the intimacy of his smile when he looked at her, that dark intensity calming for a second, just for her.

“Ehric said a stray harpy was spotted near the town.” He held a hand down to Raven.

She resolutely ignored the offer. “There is. It’s in the trees over there. It’s injured, but it came here instead of returning to the nest.”

Phendaril nodded and shifted the horse so that his hand was again in her line of sight. “Come on. We’ll get there faster on horseback.”

Raven shook her head, staring at his hand as if it were poison.

Veylin and Ehric, who had mounted the third horse, looked away, trying to hide the amusement she’d already seen in their eyes.

Phendaril chuckled, his patient smile lessening her annoyance. “She’s a strong, calm mare, and you’ll be riding with me. It’ll be fine.”

Raven took a step back and shook her head.

“We both know you’d rather come than stay here.” He moved his foot around in front of the stirrup so she could use it to climb up.

Raven stared at the mare. The horse twitched her ears and turned her head to look at Raven, soft brown eyes wondering what the holdup was.

“Raven.”

His voice – gentle, reasonable, and thick with affection – made her want to please him. Besides, he was right. She would rather go with them than stay here with all these relative strangers. If she climbed up, he would tell her later how impressed he was with her. Then he would love her the way only he could.

She grabbed his hand and put her foot in the stirrup the way she had seen others do. With his pull adding to her own boost, she swung up easily, landing straddled across the animal’s back in the saddle behind him. Her heart jumped into her throat when the mare shifted, and she wrapped her arms around Phendaril, squeezing herself against him. He placed one hand on her arm, a gesture meant to comfort, and urged the mare toward the gate out of town.

Raven focused on breathing, on the sensation of lean muscles in Phendaril’s back pressed against her chest, and on the progress made in rebuilding this part of Amberwood since the arrival of the Stonebreakers earlier that year. Anything but the volatile, powerful animal she was now sitting on. The other scouts found it amusing that a female who had faced a wyvern and corpse eaters would tremble before a horse. But she would never throw herself on the back of a wyvern, putting herself at its mercy, especially not to hasten a trip into more danger.

They passed through the gate, and Phendaril gave her arm a squeeze. Then he took his hand away, returning it to the reins.

“Hold on.”

Raven did precisely that, pinching her eyelids shut and tightening her arms around him when he urged the horse up from a walk to a trot and then to a canter.

“We’re going to fall off if you squeeze me so hard I can’t breathe.”

She caught an edge of laughter in his voice, which told her he could breathe well enough, so she maintained her death grip. The animal’s motion beneath her was powerful, yet smoother than she had expected. It was the power that kept her on edge. All that strength in a moderately intelligent beast. Jaecar shared several stories about how horses could kill you without meaning to because they were so big, strong, and prone to panic.

“They’re prey animals,” he had told her. “You have to think like one to understand their fear.”

The harpy shrieked at them as they passed near the tree it had perched in. The cry was enough to compel Raven to open her eyes. She peered up at the beast, her shoulder twinging in sympathy for the wound it suffered. Despite her ongoing fear as the horses kept up their canter into the woods, she made herself study the injured creature, catching sight of what she was searching for seconds before another tree blocked her view.

“There’s part of an arrow still in its shoulder. Looks like the rest broke off.”

She didn’t have to see Phendaril’s face to know his anger. She felt it in the slight stiffening of his posture and heard it in his voice.

“Wonderful. We’re dealing with trespassing hunters, then.” He said it loud enough to make sure the other two heard.

Raven squeaked in surprise when he kicked the horse faster.

“Sorry, my love. I just don’t want them getting away with this.”

Raven said nothing in return. It was hard to be angry with him when he called her his love. She had never been someone’s love before. It suited her to be his.

Through the comfort of Phendaril’s nearness and the time it took to reach their destination, Raven’s fear of horses started to lose some of its power. When they were close to the jagged ravine the harpies had built their new nests in and around, they dropped Raven off inside the tree line. They wouldn’t risk anyone seeing what she was and reporting her back to the authorities, given that, as an unsanctioned Silverblood, the Brotherhood would put her to death. Silverblood Brotherhood doctrine also taught that elves, women, and children couldn’t survive the magical process of becoming a Silverblood. Literally, everything about her was an affront to the Brotherhood. Her existence broke their laws and exposed the lies they used to maintain control of the Silverblood magic. Still, her need to stay hidden wasn’t going to stop her from finding ways to be of use. She simply had to be careful about it.

Raven crept out of the trees, crouching low behind shrubs and a fallen tree, and worked her way to a spot with a view of the activity below. She drew her bow and nocked an arrow, holding it at rest for now. The others continued down the hill out in the open toward where two men were contemplating the collection of harpy corpses they had dragged out into a flat area at the base of the ravine. At a glance, Raven counted eleven of the creatures. An entire flock decimated for no reason.

Her fingers tightened on the bowstring, and she struggled to keep from sending an arrow down to show them how she felt about their slaughter. Then she spotted a third man standing in the shadows with his back to her, not laughing or joking with the other two. When her companions approached, he turned. She sucked back a breath of surprise. Even without the black and silver leather armor, his bright silver eyes would have marked him as a Silverblood.

Phendaril stopped his group at the edge of the line of corpses. “What’s going on here?”

A tall man with a liberal dusting of gray in his dark hair stepped forward, one hand coming to rest on his hip next to his sword hilt. “We came to clear out these harpies. Lord Darrenton now owns the land north of here, and they’re close enough to be a risk.”

Raven’s anger exploded, her vision going red at the edges. If the two men were Lord Darrenton’s soldiers, then they could have been involved in his brother Jaecar’s murder. It took her several months to come to terms with the idea that the quiet, stern warrior who raised her had been a nobleman who chose to abandon his former life. Then again, if she had a brother like Aldrich Darrenton, she might have gone into hiding too. Her fingers itched to draw the arrow and let it fly, but she held still. Even if one or both of these men helped kill Jaecar, ending them wouldn’t bring him back.

“The land Darrenton bought is well outside of this flock’s range.” Phendaril’s voice was tight with anger. The scar tugged at his lip, emphasizing his snarl. “I know this because you’re well over the border into Amberwood, which is the property of Lady Alayne Valassian. This slaughter was unnecessary.” He snapped one hand out to point at the dead beasts. “It’s a mistake we’ll allow you to make once, recognizing your ignorance. I suggest you get off this land before we change our minds about that.”

Veylin and Ehric both rested a hand on their sword hilts now. Some not-so-subtle support for Phendaril’s threat.

The Silverblood showed no interest in their exchange. He was a mercenary. It wouldn’t matter to him who did what and where as long as he got paid. His gaze moved up the ravine, making her more than a little uneasy, though he didn’t appear to have noticed her. She tugged the hood of her cloak further forward, just in case.

“Of course.” The younger of Darrenton’s two soldiers scratched at the stubble on his chin. The news that this was someone else’s land didn’t seem to surprise him. He took a step toward the nearest harpy as he was speaking. “We’ll get a move on after we collect the feathers and the—”

Raven planted an arrow less than an inch in front of the toe of his boot as it touched down. He jerked back, casting an angry glare in her direction. The Silverblood placed a hand on his crossbow now. He looked at the log she was hiding behind. She shifted closer to the exposed root ball where the shadows were deepest, her heart beating triple-time.

“We made these kills,” the young man protested, still glaring up the ravine. “Those feathers are good for fletching.”

Phendaril placed a hand on his sword hilt, and Ehric drew his blades. Veylin changed tactics, pulling out her bow and backing her horse several steps with leg cues as she set an arrow to the string.

“And the breasts and reproductive organs are supposed to make an effective fertility elixir. I’m told they fetch a good price on less reputable markets.” Phendaril made no effort to keep his disgust from showing. He urged his mount a step closer to the nearest corpse. “But you need permission to hunt in Amberwood. Unless you have it, you’re poaching. We can take it up with the town constable if you’d like to ride back with us.”

Raven aimed an arrow at the younger man’s throat. She wouldn’t give him the chance to hurt those she cared about if it came to a fight. Phendaril was being more generous than they deserved, offering them the option to leave unpunished. If they didn’t take it, they would get what they had coming.

One of the men glanced at the Silverblood, but he moved his hands away from his weapons and took a step back. They weren’t going to get help from him. He apparently considered this outside the scope of whatever they were paying him for.

The older soldier scowled and then held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No reason to make a big deal of an honest mistake. We’ll be on our way.”

Raven ground her teeth, shifting her aim to target the man who had spoken. This was no honest mistake.

Phendaril absently corrected his mount as the animal started to turn away, not taking his eyes off the three men. “Our patrols will be given your descriptions. Should you choose to trespass again, we’ll be sure to give you a proper welcome.”

The threat that laced Phendaril’s words made her want to kiss him. She would have to ask him later if that meant she could shoot them on sight if they came here again.

“Fuck off,” the younger man growled under his breath as they turned to walk to their waiting mounts.

Once in the saddle, Darrenton’s soldiers kicked their horses to a gallop. The Silverblood held his back, the animal prancing and champing at the bit as it watched its companions depart. He looked up the ravine once more, his silver eyes searching around the end of the log where she was hiding.

“Move on,” Phendaril snapped.

The Silverblood glanced over at him, a slight smirk curving his lips before he turned to race after the others.