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  Apollo’s Raven

  An Epic Celtic Tale of Love, Magic, Adventure, Intrigue and Betrayal in Ancient Rome and Britannia

  by Linnea Tanner

  ©Copyright 2017 Linnea Tanner

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  With certain exceptions, no part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying form without written permission of the publisher or author. The exceptions would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted in writing by the author or publisher and where authorship/source is acknowledged in the quoted material.

  Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the historical information contained herein, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

  Books may be purchased by contacting the publisher or author at:

  www.linneatanner.com or

  [email protected]

  Cover Art, Cover Layout and Interior Design: Nick Zelinger, NZ Graphics

  eBook conversion: Rebecca Finkel, F + P Graphic Design

  Maps: D. N. Frost, [email protected]

  Editor: John Maling, Editing by John

  Book Consultant: The Book Shepherd; Judith Briles

  Publisher: Apollo Raven Publisher, LLC

  Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2016920018

  ISBN: 978-0-9982300-0-9 (softcover)

  978-0-9982300-1-6 (hardcover)

  978-0-9982300-2-3 (e-book)

  978-0-9982300-3-0 (audio-book)

  1) Historical Fiction 2) Fantasy 3) Ancient Rome and Britannia

  4) Celtic Mythology

  1

  Raven’s Warning

  “What if Father learns that I’ve taken this next step? Will he punish me for disobeying him … for ignoring his warning?”

  24 AD, Southeast Coast of Britannia

  Princess Catrin reined in her horse at the edge of the precipice overlooking the sea below to study the pattern of her raven’s flight, seeking an omen. Her dream of the skull-faced moon, bleeding crimson, still plagued her. It was as if she had glimpsed both into her soul and into the future, yet she did not know how to interpret it.

  The raven shot like an arrow into the thickening mist partially obscuring the sun when the sudden nip of a cool, salty breeze made her shiver. Longing for the disappearing sun’s warmth, she nestled into her plaid cloak and focused on the bird’s aerial acrobatics, first diving at the sheer cliff, then darting up. This close to the edge, one misstep of her horse could dash them both onto the jagged rocks below. Only her raven, a divine messenger, had the power to overcome such a fall and rise into the heavens to soar with the gods.

  The raven disappeared into the fog and suddenly, out of the haze appeared the red-striped sail of a flat-bottom ship. Driven mainly by oars, it thrust to and fro in the turbulent water; it was unlike the deep-hulled vessels of seafaring merchants powered by air currents over their sails. At the bow of the ship was a strange looking beam shaped like a bird’s beak.

  Catrin’s eyes followed the raven’s movement beyond the white cliffs where more striped sails were emerging from the mist. She counted ten, but there might be more. A chill feathered up her spine.

  Warships!

  From the distance, she could not determine the total number of ships or the country of their origin. She needed to see through her raven’s eyes for that. To do so, to meld her thoughts with the creature’s, she had to be alone. Uneasy that her sister, Mor, and their companion, Belinus, might disrupt her connecting with the bird, she scanned a clump of brambles, some distance down the grassy slope, where she had left them. The couple met at Beltane’s spring festival, a few weeks back, and had become intoxicated with each other.

  Catrin was still rankled that Belinus had tricked her into weapons training. His real purpose came to light the evening before, when he told her to wait on the hillside, so he could finish practicing with Mor. A warm blush spread across Catrin’s face as she imagined their legs entangled around each other. Did they think she was deaf and blind? That she was too stupid to understand what they were doing? The king would not think kindly if one of his trusted warriors charged with training his daughters for battle was “gallivanting” with one of them.

  Now barely discerning the couple through the thick brush, she surmised they were again fully occupied with each other. That left ample time to take the next step with her raven before they joined her.

  She dismounted and raised her sword, a signal for her raven to return. The large bird swooped toward her like a dark shadow. She lifted an arm on which the bird landed, its midnight-black plumage contrasted sharply with her fair skin and gold braided hair. On the threshold of womanhood, she felt closer to this creature than to many of her own kind. Still, she hesitated connecting with the bird.

  A few years back, she told her father of her ability to see the present and future through the raven’s eyes. She desired to be a Druidess. He denied her request to be trained in the spiritual order, saying, “I have decreed that no one in my family can use the powers of the Ancient Druids.”

  When she asked why, he responded with a grim frown, “The magic is too unpredictable and often alters in deadly ways. Foresight is not a gift, but a curse in our family.”

  Her father’s answer bewildered her, yet she dared not defy him openly or get caught when she secretly practiced this new mystical ability the raven showed her. The raven first sought me out, she reasoned, in favor for now using her newly discovered powers. I must heed its warning. And if I am to assess the danger the ships pose, I need to study them up close.

  She had to hurry, though. The fire stoking between her sister and Belinus would soon cool.

  Catrin lifted her arm and looked to the raven, considering her decision. “What do I have to fear from you? I am a Cantiaci warrior.”

  The raven cocked its head and gawked at her, as if ready to answer her question. She asked, “Did the sun god send you a sign about the ships near the coast?”

  When the raven mumbled some gibberish, she tapped its beak. “What does that mean?”

  The raven screeched, bobbing up and down. She smoothed its ruffled feathers. “Were those warships offshore?”

  The raven then grew still on her arm. She winced, recalling the image of the blood moon in her dream. “Should my father beware of the warships, if that is what they are?”

  The raven nodded excitedly, as if in response. Encouraged, she asked, “If I saw through your eyes, could I learn the true reason of who they are and why they are here?”

  The creature tilted its head sideways, the signal for her to enter its mind. She paused. “What if Father learns that I’ve taken this next step? Will he punish me for disobeying him … for ignoring his warning?”

  The raven shrieked and arched its wings. She chuckled, “That is right. He did say to study the enemy before each encounter, but never hesitate in battle. That is what I’m doing—doing exactly what my father expects. I am finding out if enemies are aboard the ships, but to do so, I must see through your eyes.”

  Catrin again hesitated. Once before, when she had melded and then disconnected from her raven, she lost consciousness. It took awhile for her head to clear after that episode. If that happened again, it could spell disaster so close to the precipice.

  She stepped away from the cliff’s edge and stared into the raven’s eyes which were glowing like amber gems. The bird’s talons emitted a bolt of electric heat into her ar
m. A light flashed in her mind, and the raven’s essence permeated her core being. She knew then that she had entered the raven’s prescient mind.

  At first, the landscape appeared blurry until she adjusted to the raven’s eyesight. Then brightly colored wildflowers dazzled her with purple hues that she was unable to detect with her human eyes. A thrill rushed through her as she sensed the bird’s breast muscles contracting to flap its wings. When the raven began its thrust into flight, she felt the misty air lift the bird’s outstretched wings.

  When the raven flew into the sky, she could see her human form that stood as motionless as a statue on the emerald hilltop clasped to the jagged precipice. The sheer cliffs below formed an impenetrable wall against the crashing waves. Beyond the cliffs was a sparsely vegetated shoreline toward which several ships were sailing and where other vessels were moored. Armored infantrymen had disembarked, waded to the shore and were marching across the beach. On higher ground, soldiers had set up tents in a square encampment. One of the guards had a lion’s head covering his helmet. In his hands was a pole with a silver eagle on top. She assumed it meant powerful animal spirits were guiding them.

  A palatial tent in the center of the encampment caught her eye. Its outside walls were made of twined linen sheets, violet and red, brocaded with eagles. Surrounding the central structure were crimson banners, each emblazoned with the sun god in a horse-driven chariot. At the tent’s flapped entrance were two foreign noblemen attired in purple-trimmed, white togas. Another man, towering over the foreigners, wore a rustic toga and plaid breeches, garments that nobles from her kingdom typically dressed in. From the back, he looked familiar, his thick coppery hair draped over his shoulders like a lustrous wolf pelt.

  Why is he here?

  To confirm her suspicions that she knew this tall, brawny man, Catrin directed the raven to circle around, so she could get a closer look. When the man’s ghostly, disfigured face came into view, her heart wrenched when she recognized her half-brother, Marrock.

  Grotesque images of ravens pecking tissue out of his face flashed in her mind. For seven years, she had believed herself safe from him, but there he was—a specter arisen from the cold ashes of her nightmares.

  What does he plan to do with the foreign army?

  A sense of doom crawled over her when Marrock’s head tilted back, as though he knew her essence was flying overhead. His blue-green eyes began glowing and then changed to the same amber-gem color as her raven whenever she harnessed its magical power. The raven’s muscles suddenly paralyzed, freezing the wings. A strong force pulled her through a crevasse in the raven’s mind and sucked her into a tunnel of brilliant gold light. She then plummeted, tumbling out of control, toward a black portal in the center of a rainbow-colored arch.

  2

  Secret Magic

  “What was wrong with you? You appeared frozen; your arms twisted over each other like broken wings. It was as if you had left this world and became something else.”

  A split instant later, just before Catrin burst through the portal, she found herself lying on familiar, yellow-flowered grass on the cliffs. Above her, the raven’s wings disappeared into a gray haze. A shiver of panic as sharp as needles prickled down her back.

  Was this what my father meant about the magic being unpredictable?

  The landscape settling around her, she inhaled the briny air and felt her own world again. Still, a burning tingle lingered in her arm as questions barraged her mind.

  Did Marrock do this to me? Did he somehow sense I was spying on him by using my raven’s eyesight? Did he put me into another world? Is this the deadly magic my father warned me about—the double-edged blade that others who detect my raven-sight can do me harm?

  A woman’s shrill voice startled Catrin out of her troubled thoughts. She rolled on her back to find her sister, Mor, looking down at her, the reins of her bay horse in hand. Gusty wind swirled Mor’s ebony tresses around her face etched with concern.

  “What happened to you?” Mor asked. “Your horse was loose. From a distance, I saw a raven on your shoulder. Then you collapsed.”

  “I slipped and fell,” Catrin said, trying to wrap her mind around what just happened. “Help me up.” She grasped Mor’s extended hand and pulled herself up. Woozy, she teetered while brushing the chalk of the cliff stones off her leather chest armor.

  Mor asked, “What was wrong with you? You appeared frozen; your arms twisted over each other like broken wings. It was as if you had left this world and became something else. A wraith, a soulless corpse comes to mind. Did the raven do that to you?”

  Ignoring Mor’s comment, Catrin glanced around, thinking it odd that her sister was there without Belinus. Assuming he was nearby, she looked beyond Mor, but there was no sign of him.

  “Why don’t you answer me?” Mor snapped. “This is the second time I’ve seen this happen to you this week. You know what Father said. You are not to do magic with that raven.”

  “I don’t need you to remind me,” Catrin muttered, her thoughts racing to Marrock and the ships offshore. She blurted, “There is something offshore that concerns me.”

  Mor gave her a befuddled look. “What ships? I thought we were talking about your raven.”

  Catrin pointed to the ocean channel. “The warships that are out there!”

  Shaking her head, Mor walked to the cliff, peered over the edge, and looked back at Catrin. “What exactly did you see?”

  Words darted out of Catrin’s mouth. “Striped sails, oar-driven warships, foreign soldiers landing, and Marrock!”

  “Whoa! Slow down,” Mor said. “Where did you see this?”

  Catrin gestured northward. “Beyond the cliffs.”

  Mor shielded her eyes with a hand to search again. A few seconds later, she gave Catrin a dubious frown.

  “I can’t see anything from here, too much fog. When did you see Marrock?”

  “A bit ago—” Catrin suddenly realized it could have been quite some time since being in the raven’s mind.

  Mor gripped Catrin’s arm and pulled her closer. Catrin stared into Mor’s chestnut-brown eyes as her sister continued with the hard questioning. “Is something else going on with you? Is that crazy raven casting spells on you? You know what people say, that creature will make you go mad.”

  Catrin bristled. “Nonsense! It is nothing like that. I only connect to it when I need its help and have complete control over it.”

  Seeing Mor’s jaw drop, Catrin realize her secret had slipped out and bit her lower lip, making it bleed. It was too late to take the words back. Considering it further, she didn’t know how to convince Mor of the threat posed by Marrock and the foreign army unless she disclosed her use of forbidden magic. She finally said, “I need to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell Father.”

  Mor’s eyebrows arched. “What have you done now?”

  Catrin’s throat felt parched as she stumbled through the explanation, her voice sometimes cracking. “Whenever I need help—like … like seeing something in the distance—I can enter the raven’s mind. Once in, I can see through its eyes.”

  “What do you mean by ‘once you are in?’ You transform into a raven?”

  “No … not that.” Catrin again fumbled for the right words. “My human vision turns off when I switch to the raven’s eyes. I can see below me when it flies. The raven also sends me dreams of the future. Last night, I dreamt the moon turned into a bleeding skull. I took this as an omen that our kingdom is in grave danger. When I saw Marrock with a foreign army, I knew this was true.”

  Mor paused, as if trying to absorb what Catrin had just described. “Merchant ships are always sailing near the coastline. How could you even tell they were warships from this distance?”

  “They were not like merchant ships and soldiers were disembarking from them beyond the cliffs—”

  Mor inte
rrupted. “You can see that from here? I doubt it.”

  Catrin blazed. “Let me finish!”

  Mor’s lips clamped, finally allowing Catrin to continue. “Hundreds of soldiers are setting up camp near the shore north of here, in the bay. That is where I saw Marrock!”

  “I find this incredibly hard to believe,” Mor said, lifting her eyes in disbelief.

  “It is true, Marrock was there,” Catrin insisted. “Omens do not lie. Soldiers would not be with him unless they plan to attack. We need to warn Father.”

  “Warn him of what?” Mor said, still appearing skeptical.

  Growing impatient with Mor’s questions, Catrin said sharply, “Marrock has come back. He is conspiring with foreign troops. Remember, sister, he swore to kill everyone in our family when Father banished him.”

  “That is quite a bold accusation,” Mor exclaimed. “I have never seen Marrock and, for that matter, I have never seen any warships. What if you’re wrong? You don’t have any proof that he is plotting to attack our kingdom. I don’t want to look stupid telling Father something that is not true. He will be angry when he finds out you used your raven’s magic. Besides, I want to stay here and finish training with Belinus.”

  Catrin’s face burned. Train with what, his sword? She pointed to herself. “I’ll accept the blame if it turns out wrong, which it isn’t. We need to get back now!”

  Mor put hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving until I see these soldiers and ships with my own eyes.”

  Catrin, noticing her sister suddenly glance up, turned and spotted Belinus waving from the adjacent hilltop to signal weapons had been setup for practice. The last thing she wanted was for Mor to persuade him to stay, so they could finish their tryst before slinking back home. Catrin fumed that Mor had lost all sense of propriety behaving as she had with a common warrior.

  Of all days to practice! I should be warning Father.

  When Mor pulled the reins of the bay and began walking away, Catrin yanked her by the arm to halt her. “What are you doing?”