Raven's Hand Read Free

was
unblemished, but I knew what was coming.
    Evelyn whipped her wand from the sleeve of
her dress where it was kept. However, this wand was not the elegant
expertly crafted kind handed down to the great houses by the
Malkind. This wand was made from a twisted tree branch, as gnarled
and bony as the fingers that now wielded it.
    I stood before the crone, trembling in
anticipation of the pain she would inflict upon me. She seethed
with anger, standing hunched upon the flagstones, amber firelight
casting monstrous shadows upon the wall behind her. I closed my
eyes and prepared for the worst.
    The wand whipped the air and a line of fire
raked my bare skin. I shuddered and very nearly cried out. Still, I
managed to hold in my agony. Again and again, the wand cut the air
and a corresponding energy lashed my skin. Evelyn laughed as she
marked my body with welts and lacerations, over and over again.
    By the time she had finished and the cackling
stopped, I was on my knees lying prostrate upon the floor. I had
been reduced to a quivering mound of flesh. Blood poured from my
wounds onto the carpet around me. Where I was once beautiful; now I
was marred and horrid. My body ached and burned, but Evelyn the
crone had no sympathy for me.
    Her cackling died away and I believed myself
to be alone. Then silk slid over my back and up over my shoulders.
Strong hands wrapped me up in a sheet, gripping my shoulders
tightly in order to help me back to my feet. A warm baritone
voice—his voice—resounded in my ears, speaking comfort. I did not
know the exact words—for some reason they escaped me—but I was glad
to hear the voice.
    Normally, I would have been ashamed of my
condition. I would have been horrified to be found unclothed before
any man. Yet, I didn’t feel this way with him. He did not look upon
me with lust, but with compassion. I rose to my feet beneath the
silken sheet, while he supported me.
    When I raised my eyes to behold him, the
sheet came away and the scene changed with the suddenness only a
dream can produce. Of course, I was not surprised. Everything that
happens in dreams appears completely normal at the time.
    I was now standing in the middle of a grand
ballroom. My skin was whole again and covered in rich satin fabric
dyed in deep reds and purples with gold filigree. The gown was
strapless and hugged my body, flaring at the waist down to the
floor in a cascade of frills covered by dark lace. Black lace
gloves covered my hands and a matching masquerade mask covered my
eyes. My dark hair fell in loose curls around my shoulders, and
flecks of gold on my skin caught the light from chandeliers.
    The ballroom was constructed of dark woods
and parquet floors. Chandeliers hung suspended in the air because
there was no ceiling at all—only the stars shining down from above.
Fireflies flitted among the dancers, blinking in time with elegant
music playing without any musicians that could be seen.
    Around me, dancers whirled and spun. Each
young man had his lady in his arms. All of the pairs moved in
concert—stately couples whose apparel complimented one another
flawlessly. These moved around me in a ceaseless dance, leaving me
standing alone in the middle of the ballroom.
    Then I saw him.
    He appeared at the entrance to the room, but
there was no herald present to announce his arrival. He did not
need any introduction. He had come for me and me alone. Each and
every finely dressed lady was accompanied already—everyone but
me.
    His outfit complimented mine perfectly. His
jacket was dyed in deep red and his vest in dark purple. His black
pants were knee length with hose below and leather shoes with shiny
gold buckles to match the gold buttons on his jacket. He wore a
mask also, but I knew it was him. I could feel the heat from his
body. I could sense his presence in the room. Even blind, I would
have still known he was there.
    The music continued unabated, as he walked
toward me. I blushed behind my mask, suddenly self