Raven's Strike

Nothing had worked. Magic had just slid off the surface of the Order without affecting it.

Magic worked with patterns, she thought, patterns and symbolism.

Seraph stared at Tier’s Order and pulled her magic to her as if she were spi

“Tier,” she said. “Tell me if you feel anything—but most especially if something hurts.”

“I’ll do that.” His wry tone made her smile, as he’d intended it to.

She set her yarn of magic against his Order, but her fingers sank through to touch his neck.

“Cold,” said Tier.

“Very fu

She laid the thread against Tier, and this time it rested lightly on Bardic Order and, at her will, the thread she’d spun began to take on the texture and green-grey color of the Bardic Order. When she tugged lightly on the yarn, it fell away from Tier. It wouldn’t merge with the Tier’s Order—she’d have to weave it through. Even as she put the yarn back to lie against Tier so that it could all absorb the aspects of his Order, she had an idea of how she might be able to repair the damage.

She hadn’t darned socks or sweaters for a long time—not since she’d taught Ri

When all her yarn was blended with Tier’s Order she pulled it away. From magic she formed a darning egg, visualizing a hard surface rounded just right to turn the edge of her needle away from Tier’s skin.

Now all that she needed was a darning needle.

The only thing that had been able to affect Tier’s Order was her own.

“He

“You’re going to try and use the gems?” He

Seraph shook her head. “I’m going to see if I can persuade it to help me.”

She heard He

Something small and warm was tucked into her cold hand, the ring.

She’d chosen the Lark, because Healing seemed very close to what she was trying to do.

Seraph thought through the problem she faced and what she needed several times, curbing her panic and her impatience as best she could. She’d begun on a third time when something sharp pierced the skin on the hand that held the gem. She looked down, and the rust-colored Order that had surrounded the gem had formed itself into the shape of a large needle.

She thought very hard about how grateful she was as she slipped her yarn into the needle. She set the darning egg beneath the largest of the holes in the fabric of Tier’s Order. She had no idea what would happen if she pierced flesh with her needle, and had no particular desire to find out.

Carefully taking the needle in her Order-gloved hands, she used her will more than her fingers to set the needle into Tier’s Order, two fingerwidths from the edge of the tear.

Like a tightly knitted sweater, the threads of Bardic Order slid away from her needle without harm and the egg protected Tier from the sharp point. The ring, which she held loosely between two fingers, passed through Tier’s Order as if neither were affected by the presence of the other. The needle, though, worked as well as she had hoped it might. Carefully, she pulled it back through the weaving of Tier’s Order, stitching all around the hole to strengthen the edge before she began reweaving the fabric of Tier’s Order with her magic.

Hours passed, but she was absorbed in her work, painstakingly knitting Tier’s Order together again. The familiar task was absorbing, and she didn’t realize how tired she was until Tier’s voice penetrated her concentration.

“Seraph, listen to me.”

“I’m not finished,” she said stubbornly. There were still holes. Small holes that would turn into larger ones. She looked for her yarn, but she couldn’t find any more.

“He

The needle faded away, until she held only a ring. Dazedly, she realized Tier was holding her wrists and shaking her.

“She’s stopped,” said He

“I’ll get them to their beds.”

That was Lehr. What was he doing back already?

“Take Mother up,” said Jes. “I’ll get He

“I can get myself up,” said Tier.

Tier. Seraph slid her hand in his loosened grip until she had a hold on his arm.

“He

“It’s better,” the other Raven replied. “It won’t hold forever, but it should give us some time. I wouldn’t have thought of using the Orders that way.”

“You haven’t darned many socks,” replied Seraph. She wondered briefly what her weaving had looked like to He

Jes waited while Lehr picked up their mother and started up the ladder steps to his parents’ loft. Then he extended his hand to his father, who got to his feet with a groan.

“Thanks, Jes,” he said. “I was wondering how I was going to do that.” He followed Lehr up the ladder steps, limping heavily.

He

He left He

the Guardian told him, then abruptly withdrew.

Jes’s hands curled protectively around Ri

He carried Ri

The unearned knowledge was part of the change that was happening, a change that frightened both the Guardian and him. Mother was worried about it, too. He’d always talked to the Guardian, soothing him, easing the constant rage the Guardian lived with. But it wasn’t until they’d caged him with the foundrael that the Guardian had spoken back.

“She is too young to fly,” Jes muttered softly. “We wouldn’t be able to keep her safe.”

The Guardian was silent, and Jes couldn’t tell if he was listening, or if he’d closed himself off entirely. The latter was dangerous. When the Guardian emerged from such hibernations, he was gorged with anger, impossible to reason with.