Revelation
Written by Kai Toh
To Kyle ... Always to Kyle ...
Please note: Revelation is a sequel to Lenora. It is recommended that you read Lenora first in order to fully grasp and appreciate Revelation.
Autumn, 1981.
“Raith,” Mike said as he left his small motor bike and retrieved the packages he brought for his hermit friend. “I have some news about Lenora.”
“Really, what is it?” he asked, both intrigued and troubled.
“It is not good news. She’s missing.”
“How do you know?”
“Supposedly, she called home, talked to her mom and committed to coming back for her parent’s twenty-fifth anniversary party. She didn’t leave a number. The anniversary came and went, and she never showed up and has not called since.”
“I see,” Raith said.
“Now, I didn’t want to bother you with this unless there was a reason to worry, so I called the mother and the rumours were true. She’s worried that something happened to her. Lenora would call home regularly every month, but it has been over three months now.”
Raith was silent, collecting his thoughts, until he finally asked, “Did the mom say where she was going?”
“To a town or city, but she thinks Lenora would ease herself into it and not go straight to a large city. I already asked around Brimwood. No one’s heard anything.”
I don’t know how to find people outside of the forest, he thought to himself. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“You going to look for her?”
“Yes,” Raith said. He thought about asking Mike for help but as the scenarios played out in his mind, the less Mike knew about everything he did not want him to know, the better. He could always ask for his assistance later.
“If there is anything I can do help, let me know,” he said. “She was such a sweet girl, and the family deserves to know what happened.”
“Yes. Thank you, my friend,” he said distractedly, taking the packages and wondering what he was going to do.
* * * * *
Raith went to the receiving house. Upon entering, he took out one of the few documents he owned, an outdated map of the area. He looked at his location on the map. The reserve was 150 kilometers southeast as the raven flies. To the northeast is where he made his monthly run to drop off the gwillberries in Smallfield. He marked out a 75-kilometer radius from the reserve. All the large towns were to the south of the reserve. Seven towns had 5,000 to 10,000 people. Recalling his discussions with her, that was the size of the town she was looking for. He had to make a trip to drop off the gwillberries next week. He decided after he was done, he would head south to the towns nearest to investigate.
Raith prepared as he did normally, but this time he took some pictures of Lenora with him. Mike had taken them when they visited Brimwood that one time. He also thought it a good idea to bring cash, people being more willing to be helpful when incentivized. He gathered the twenty-pound sack of berries, undressed, and selected some dark clothes from a drawer, putting the clothes he wore away. He put all the clothes in a dark, green, cloth bag and attached the bag and the sack together and, completely naked, took it outside. He locked the door and put the key into the bag.
The metamorphosis did not hurt. What was once skin and hair suddenly became feathers. His nose enlarged and hardened into a sharp beak while the shape of his head protruded outward. His fingers lengthened, each now being longer than his forearm. The skin between the fingers and under his arms stretched until the flaps resembled those of bats. Ultimately, they would transform into dark, feathery wings. Sharp talons appeared from elongating feet. In the end, he resembled a bi-pedal hybrid of man and raven. Though his overall size remained the same, the few who have observed such a magnificent creature all trembled in fear at its menacing presence. He adjusted his baggage so that it attached to his feet and he took off in flight, gracefully ascending through the night air.
Raith chose this form because the small raven alternative could not carry everything needed. He found, if he stayed away from lights, he was rarely ever spotted. Stories of giant ravens or a half-man/ half-raven being in the area were non-existent which is exactly how he wanted it. What little suspicion there was, came from his actions in human form. He found he could fly faster and longer than most ravens and was even quicker when he was raven size. He had better night vision than the typical raven which was usually quite poor. Perhaps it was evolutionary and based upon his need not to be seen. It would take him less than one-and-a-half hours to get to the Smallfield. There was a wooded area three kilometers from the mom-and-pop shop. There he would hide the bag, change into the smaller raven form to sleep, and transform into a human in the morn. On arrival, he carefully entered the heavily treed location and hid his bag in the same secret spot as always. He then diminished into a raven and climbed onto a familiar branch of a familiar tree.
Other ravens used this tree and gave Raith a special croak as a sign of respect. Raith’s family and others like them was revered by common ravens and whatever they commanded was executed even if it meant the raven’s death. Raith never commanded such and mostly left the ravens on their own.
Any raven person could command ravens, but there were not many left, and throughout history the ravens were pretty much left to themselves. Attitudes towards these raven shapeshifters changed with the times. It was common for the collective raven opinion to be one of indifference, thinking whatever was asked of them was not their battle and being called to duty was an annoyance and a chore, potentially leading to death.
However, with Raith, there were stories and legends (known amongst ravens but not humans) which created myths and mystery and a larger-than-life hero. There were so many exaggerated half-truths in local raven lore: bear killer, survivor of being run over by a truck, survivor of a shotgun blast, killer of a dozen coyotes, stabbed six times from a drunken woodsman, and avenger of wrongs done to ravens. Thus, they did not know Raith but knew the myth, and they would grudgingly serve any raven shape changer, but they would enthusiastically obey the ever-increasing legend.
* * * * *
Years ago, a person who visited Raith tried the gwillberries and thought they were exquisite. That same person connected him to a store who was willing to pay a premium for such a unique product. Though the margins were not that high, the owners still made much money selling many expensive products derived from the gwillberry. They knew the name Raith as that was what the friend told the owners, but that is all they knew about him. He did not want to get too friendly. He thought Mike already knew too much. Thus, the interaction was always brief. He would enter the store, always dressed the same, with dark sunglasses on. They would drop everything and give him their full attention when he visited. They paid him in red fifty-dollar bills in a banker’s envelope. They did not inspect the product. He did not count the money. The whole exchange took only a minute or two. On this visit, however … nothing changed, and it proceeded as it always did.
Raith usually spent the whole day in Smallfield in human form, looking condescendingly at his human compatriots, their endless cycle of uncontrolled appetites, meaningless amusements, and non-stop consumption. Was Lenora like this? To a degree, but much less so than these unintrospective sheep. To be fair, the farmers worked hard and are only trying to survive, but the city folk was another matter. They were so far removed from their roots in nature and what truly mattered, in the actual world and even in their small, artificially created ones.
That afternoon, Raith commanded all the ravens in the area to meet him at a tree known as The Roost, one sun before sunset. This was calculated by picturing the sun in its entirety with its bottom touching the horizon. Now move the sun up so that its bottom was above the top where it was previously. That was one sun before sunset. They were intelligent enough to figure out the human system, but access to outside clocks or overlooking people with watches was limited.
Slightly less than a thousand ravens showed up that night. He might have only known a handful personally and knew not if he commanded most of these before. In raven form, he had a picture of Lenora next to him, and all the ravens were commanded to look at her, memorize her, and to get word to him if any of them see her. If any spoke her name, they were to let him know. His plan was to take 144 ravens with him to each town and the ravens would be his eyes and ears. They would stay two or three days and if there were no leads, they would progress to the next town.
To find Lenora, Raith needed a specific kind of raven. The local warden — who watched over the raven in a region — selected the best. From the thousands available, the warden ignored the simple foragers and messengers to select those who specialized in gathering intelligence, thinking they would be more useful for the task than those assigned militaristic.
* * * * *
Two days in Blackhorn did not result in any leads. Everything looked old, rundown, and badly maintained. The various industries that were once there were long gone. He wondered why people continue to live here. Then he thought it was because it was their home, where their parents and grandparents might have lived. He could understand that. Very little could make him abandon the area where he grew up and where his family lived for centuries, not even Lenora.
The next town was Infinity. Raith was always intellectually offended every time he flew over or nearby this region. The town was beside a lake that had two uninhabited islands in it. The original name was Figure Eight Lake and the town was named Aight. Self-indulgently, someone who had the power to do so, renamed it Infinity Lake since it slightly resembled the infinity symbol more than the number eight. That did not last because they failed to realize that most towns, here or anywhere, do not have the exact same name as the lake they occupy. Thus, they changed it to Infinity. Ironically, everything in this town was finite: opportunity, hopes, dreams, potential, and everyone knew it.
Raith left all his baggage on the smaller eastern island. The shores were very rocky, and it was difficult for boats to dock; thus, men never step foot there, making his belongings safe. In raven form, he followed the other 144 into town. On the second afternoon there, on a noiseless road, something sparkled on the ground. Was it a ring or a coin? He knew young ravens liked shiny objects because they were curious about any objects and the shiny ones simply catch their eye more. This predisposition got the better of him. He went to the object and was amused to find that it was some sort of marble. Suddenly his feathers stood on end, adrenalin rushing through him. The first instinct was to flee, but his reflexes were not as quick as he wished. He didn’t actually see what hit him. A heavy thud slammed into him, what he imagined being hit by a truck must feel like. Accompanying the blunt force was a sharp, piercing scrape that tore into his chest and wings. The force of the blow slammed his head into the cement road. His vision was blurry and his head clouded. Disoriented, he tried to flee but his limbs would not move in his daze. He saw his vicious attacker: a slim grey house cat, with its tag rattling. It hissed through its sharp teeth, and he saw the finishing blow coming from the right. His eyes stared into oncoming death. So this is it, mighty Raith, shot with bullets, stabbed with knives, victor against seven in a bar fight, bear killer, coyote pack attack survivor, taken down by a common house cat. The cat flew to the left; the claw struck him but did not do much more damage than was already inflicted. A man had pushed the cat away. The cat really disliked Raith or thought he would make a tasty meal because he was standing his ground against the much bigger man. Reluctantly, the cat left, and the man approached the raven, trying to offer assistance. Raith croaked his displeasure loudly. It took a while for his mind to clear, but he managed to find a low branch. The man took a step towards him, and again the raven cried out. After that, the man went to pick up his groceries that he abandoned to save the raven and were now scattered across the street.
When the man was gone, Raith croaked loudly until another raven heard him. One did and called out to another. Three ravens of the intelligence category came to his aid. He thought himself too vulnerable on the low branch and the three helped him to higher ground. He knew he would be fine if he could transform himself to the hybrid creature, for he healed faster in that form. However, he could not change now as it was daylight and onlookers could observe him. One of the ravens, by the name of Silverfeather, was an admirer of Raith and suggested two strong ravens could tie him with rope and once tethered, fly him to safety once it was dark. That sounded like it would work, and Raith instructed the raven to arrange such. It was hours until dark and Raith simply rested, waiting for the night to come. A dozen ravens of the military type gathered to protect their vulnerable leader. Other ravens brought him food and water in whatever cup-like vessel they could salvage.
Dusk finally came and the contraption worked fine. The two strong ravens that were to lift him were very careful. They did not want to be the ones who dropped their revered leader, leading to further injury or worse. They flew him back to the abandoned island where he changed to the monstrous hybrid which shocked the two onlooking ravens. They could not help but stare out of horror and awe. The transformation itself stimulated some healing, and Raith knew he would be perfectly fine by morning. He dismissed the two ravens, but they chose to stay nearby in case they were needed.
* * * * *
After Raith healed up, he decided it was time to leave Infinity. Before he left, he thought he would visit the man who helped save his life. Perhaps, he could be of further help. In his raven form, he took a picture of Lenora and gave it to him and simply said “find” in a raven croak. Chances were that such action would be futile, but he thought the effort could not hurt.
In the next small town, he found … nothing. There was not even another woman named Lenora that people talked about. He checked every town on his list. She must have went to a bigger town further away. He decided to go home. There were berries that soon needed gathering and other tasks that needed attending to. He decided before he left to visit the man who saved him once again and see if he had any information. People who interacted with Raith would know him as a quiet individual but one who spoke normally. However, he decided that speaking very little and feigning to know very little English would be advantageous to his goals. The man told him nothing he did not already know. He said a private investigator could help. Raith thought of that as well but did not want to hire such a person himself. It worked out well that his new friend was willing to do it for him. He gave him a roll of fifty-dollar bills and told him to keep the rest for the trouble.
* * * * *
Raith returned to his normal routine: berry gathering, forest surveillance, and dwelling upkeep. Since he had been away, he was behind on the last two. Surveillance was more of a tradition, something his family had done for centuries. Like a night watchman, there was rarely anything that needed addressing. Soon, it was again time to deliver the gwillberries to Smallfield. Afterwards, he once again flew to the home of the man who saved him. The man told him what he knew and gave him the files that the private investigator assembled. Lenora was living with a man named Jarron Olafson in a tumultuous relationship. One day, she was not heard from again. Raith took the file and wordlessly left. He transformed into the raven and flew back to the abandoned east island and made a small fire using matches; trying to do it the traditional way took much too long — this was one modern convenience he did not mind. He read the report. There was not enough evidence to conclusively determine Jarron did something to her. He read the man’s address. The man lived in a suburb of Sudbury. It was outside the boundary of where raven wardens had authority. It was going to be very difficult to pinpoint the exact location, especially with the bad maps available where he was.
Raith decided he needed to go to where Jarron lived, but he knew he would likely get lost and spend much time backtracking if he went on his own. Instead of dealing with such an obstacle, he asked his new friend to drive him there. He did not look forward to the ride having done it a handful of times in the past and each time becoming sick from the unnatural motion. It was Halloween night, but he really did not want to wait. If his friend could not do it this evening, so be it, but he thought he would try. Not too surprisingly, the man agreed.
When they got into the car, he knew the man would likely want to talk, but he requested that he not do so and instead play some music from a rock station. Raith was not exposed to much music besides Indigenous, but he heard some rock music being played one time by some hikers who stopped to have lunch. He asked Mike about it, and he leant him an old boom box with cassette tapes. Raith listened to it and liked it but did not like existence of such technology so close to where he lived and ultimately returned it. Still, the combination of rhythmic bass and drums, screeching guitars and melodic vocals was almost drug-like in its ability to affect his mood and energy. He tried other genres of music but still preferred the one he was introduced to first. However, that interest was not too compelling as he lived years without it.
About half an hour into the ride, Raith’s stomach did not agree with him. “I … feel … sick.”
“You’re not looking well,” the man said. “I’m going to stop at a drug store and get you some motion sickness medicine. It will make you feel better.” Raith was in no condition to argue. As he parked the car in front of the drug store, Raith rushed out of the car and threw up on the grass. He felt as if a piece of his lung was forced out of him as his chest was in piercing pain. The man followed him, but Raith told him he was fine and got to the car and sat down. After checking on him, the man went in the store and a while later came out with the medicine and a bag of snacks. He passed the hooded passenger the medicine and some cola. Raith opened the package took two pills and gulped it down with the accompanying drink. He shivered when he took a sip as he was not used to the cold, the sugar, the carbonated water, and the caffeine hitting all at once. The man opened up a bag of nacho flavoured corn chips and two chocolate bars.
“Help yourself,” he said, sneaking peeks to see how his strange friend was enjoying the snacks as he knew they would be foreign to him. Raith started eating and an assault of flavour attacked his palette. Out in nature, salty, fatty, sugary food were all treats and special events. Here, it was just ordinary and every day.
About an hour later, when they got closer to their destination, Raith told him to make sure he showed him the house but afterwards park far away from it. The man did so and stopped where Raith instructed. He then told the man to go home; the man objected because he was worried about how his friend was going to get back, but reluctantly, he did what he was told.
Raith decided things would be easier if he commanded the ravens in the area to help him. However, these ravens were not familiar with the warden system. When he cried out, a croak equivalent to Come Here Now!, three ravens came to his call. He stared intently at them and they immediately were intimidated. They could somehow sense he was different and not like any creature they had ever seen. Raith told them he was one of these legendary raven persons they have heard stories about and that he needed their help. One of them was sent to find nine others. The other two would help him surveil the house.
Raith needed to get into Jarron’s home. He told the ravens to look around but to be discreet. One of them, somehow found the spare key located under a small slit under the wooden bench on the porch. Once he had the key, he instructed the ravens to find more ravens and search for Lenora in the surrounding area and also to report any decomposing bodies.
Raith waited until Jarron left for work and had a handful of ravens be his lookout. He changed into human form, got dressed, opened the front door, and quickly went into the house. Once in, he took his time. Luckily, there was no dog. He went room by room looking at everything and spending more time with an object if he thought it would help. He did not know exactly what an ordinary home would look like, but nothing he saw indicated this home was atypical.
Raith did not like the thought, but he checked the kitchen and the knives. Normal. Eventually he ended up upstairs. He made his way to a desk. This was not his forte: paper, documents, writing. Jarron spent more than he made. The house was rented, not owned. His savings was quite low. Under a stack of miscellaneous papers, he saw what looked like a bad abstract drawing but one that could possibly be a map. If it was a map, there was nothing to indicate so, besides an X. Two parallel lines could be a road, while two other lines could be a stream. Something looked like a distinctive rock. He decided to keep whatever this was. He was there for hours and finally decided there was nothing left to do and left. He showed the ravens the map, thinking they might have noticed a similar pattern from an aerial view. They were intelligent but that might be beyond their abilities especially if the canopy of trees blocked roads and rivers.
In the next couple of days, he flew around the surrounding area looking for this configuration of lines and shapes himself, but it was not to be seen. He reminded himself that the page did not have a specific orientation and that he might be looking at it upside down or sideways.
Days later, ravens came by to greet Raith and told them of a body found in a heavily forested area about twenty-five kilometres from town. He told them to take him there which they did. Being mostly raven, a decaying body did not disgust him. When he got to the body, he could not really tell if it was her, the corpse being mostly bones and rotted flesh; the putrid stench would cause most people to vomit. What remained of the clothing looked unfamiliar. A raven croaked and from its beak was a silver chain, unclasped, which flickered, even in the low light. The pendant had the outline of a raven on it. It was the same one he bought Lenora in Brimwood. It was made from a local artist. What are the chances that this was a coincidence? Very slim. He was convinced it was her. He was not that emotional as he already knew that this was the most likely outcome. There would be time to grieve later. Raith knew, however, this did not mean Jarron did it, that is, until he compared the area with the makeshift map he borrowed.
The road lined up with the line on map. This other line was the stream, while this oblong block was indeed a large rock, over six feet high. A squiggly, heavily convoluted line leading to the X matched that of the almost impossible to follow trail exactly. On the map was an odd circle and when Raith went to the corresponding spot, he saw a hole in the fence where with some trouble a large man could fit through. Just like on the map, it did not connect to the trail for over 200 feet in heavy bush. Branches were bent and broken indicating something came through here. There was a piece of plaid fabric on the ground. Was it part of Jarron’s or Lenora’s clothing that tore when they passed through here? He went back to compare the torn fabric to what remained of Lenora’s clothing. No match.
Raith’s mind was already made up but he wanted to check one more thing before he acted. The next day, he again snuck into Jarron’s house and the ripped material matched perfectly with a tear in a jacket Jarron owned. He knew then what he had to do. The new moon would be in a few days, but he did not want to delay. Tonight would be the night. He waited until Jarron got home as a raven on an oak tree in his front yard. He decided doing whatever he intended outside the house would be best. Inside, there might be a struggle and a mess later that had to be cleaned up. If the police came, things would look suspicious. Outside however, commanded ravens could help clean as would the elements. His clothes were hidden across the street. He would either ask the ravens to remove his clothes for him or pick them up himself later.
Raith saw the headlights from a distance. He looked downward not wanting to ruin his night vision. He flew to the side of the house, unseen by anyone in the car. The lookout ravens croaked that everything was clear. He transformed into the monstrous abomination of raven and man and waited until the engine shut off. It did. Then the head lights turned off. The car door opened and then finally closed, and within mere seconds, the creature ran to Jarron and knocked him to the ground. He moved his head back to deliver the likely death blow — though he thought it might take one or two more claw strikes or an additional peck to finish him off. His beak did strike but Raith held back because he saw that the giant man had fainted. Instinct took over, faster than he could think, the wings flapped, and he was off the ground and in the shadows, completely unseen by all.
* * * * *
Raith jabbed Jarron in the side with his talon to wake him. The large man waited for the cobwebs to leave his clouded mind. He pointed to Lenora’s unrecognizable corpse. Jarron refused to look, so with his powerful wing he forced his head forward, face to face with the corpse of his ex-lover. Like a child, his eyes were forced shut. “Look,” Raith said, his voice low and harsh in this form, “or I will make you look. No eyelids.”
He opened his eyes, screaming and convulsing as he realized his cheek was touching the cheek of a rotting near-skeleton. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I did it,” he admitted. “Well, you know I did it. She was going to leave. I couldn’t let that happen. I strangled her. I dumped her here. Please, don’t kill me. I’ll turn myself in. I will be good for the rest of my life. Anything. You can have my house, everything. Just spare me, please.”
Jarron was bigger and appeared stronger, but he knew this was not a fair fight. He was shaking in such fear that he did not even know if he could fight, and if he did, he knew it would be useless. He was only going to live if this creature let him.
“Look at her.”
Jarron did.
“You did that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Please, please,” he begged.
“Lenora was afraid of heights. Are you afraid of heights?” Raith asked, his voice emotionless.
“No, not really?”
“You will be,” he said coldly. His claws pierced into Jarron’s shoulders, and the heavy-set man was lifted effortlessly into the air. To his horror, they were moving higher and higher. How high he did not know; he was being flung around and the pain of the claws into his flesh was excruciating. A few seconds later, he saw the top of the trees below.
“Don’t,” Jarron pleaded. “Please don’t. I’m sorry.”
About two thousand feet in the air, directly above where Lenora was, Raith, without warning, casually let him go and he heard a loud scream that quickly lost its volume until even Raith’s excellent hearing could not detect it anymore. I should have killed him at his house, he thought, left him no chance for escape. The risk was slim that Jarron could somehow escape the trip from his house to where Lenora was, but his dying was the ultimate purpose, and he should not have risked it not happening. Still, it would take a miracle for him to free himself and escape. Raith needed him to see what he did before he died. Dropping him from a great height was the traditional, formal, and dramatic way for raven folk to kill their enemies. He could just have easily pecked him to death or tore him to pieces. A slight sense of peace ran through him, the chapter ending, the book closing: it was finally done.
* * * * *
Spring, 1982.
“Raith,” Mike said as he left his small motor bike and retrieved the packages he brought for his hermit friend. “I have some news about Lenora.”
“Really, what is it?” Raith asked, both intrigued and troubled.
“She’s … um … dead.”
“How do you know?” the hermit’s face was expressionless.
“It’s in the newspaper. Somebody left a note telling the police to go to a certain spot deep in the woods and they found her body, very decomposed. Guess who was found with her?”
“The boyfriend?”
“Yes, his corpse was fresher. Looks like he died recently. Maybe some vigilante found out what he did and did the same to him.”
“How were they killed?” Raith asked.
“The article didn’t go into that. It is very lacking in info. I brought a copy for you,” Mike said and handed him the newspaper clipping. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”
“No,” Raith said simply. “What could I do? The article says he was quite a large fellow.”
“I would bet on you versus half a dozen men anytime.”
Raith gave a dismissive look.
“Remember, I was at that bar,” Mike said, “and the time you jogged for two hours with that heavy hiker who fell off those rocks.”
“He was very appreciative, so, of course, he exaggerated for story-telling purposes and my benefit.”
“Did you look for her?” Mike asked.
“I went to some nearby small towns near the reserve, Blackthorn, Smallfield, Infinity, nothing. So I gave up for the time being and came back and then my usual life took over.”
“Looks like whoever killed Jarron knew he killed Lenora, knew where he disposed of the body and somehow without getting caught, killed the man and brought the man to where Lenora was. It’s absolutely nuts. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Me either. That is crazy.”
“Okay, I got to get back, busy day. Guess I like making up stories about you to myself, keeps life interesting,” Mike joked.
“Please keep those stories to yourself. Like I always say, I just want to be left alone out here.”
“Of course, of course,” he agreed. “She was such a sweet girl. You two were great together.”
“Yeah,” Raith said wistfully.
“Too bad, it didn’t work out.”
“She couldn’t live this way. I could not live whatever way she finally decided to live. We had a lot of fun together and were deep in love, or whatever passes for love for me — because, as you know, I am not an emotional person. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Yes, life’s like that, at least, you have what you had. Many would be lucky to just have that, I know I would be.”
Raith closed his eyes and started choking up, which startled Mike who was staring in astonishment because this is not how his friend acts.
“I promised I’d always protect her … I could not protect her.”
Mike embraced the much smaller man as tears streaked down from his different coloured eyes.