From Cold Ashes Risen (The War Eternal Book 3)

by Rob J. Hayes

  A kinetic force slammed into me from above and forced me onto my knees. The stone beneath me seamed to melt and flow over my ankles before hardening once more, locking me in place.

  "Enough, Helsene." The Iron Legion stumbled back a couple of steps, again breathing hard, wary eyes staring at me in case I had any more tricks. He needn't have bothered. I was done. Held fast to the floor, barely able to move, and whatever he had fixed to my wrist was keeping my magic and horror both unreachable. Still, I did my absolute best to glare the Iron Legion to death. It didn't fucking work.

  "I didn't invite you here to fight you. I need your help." He said it with such sincerity I couldn't help but laugh, a harsh cackling thing.

  "You want my help? My entire life you have done nothing but cause me pain and then thrown me to the wolves. You gave me to the Emperor."

  Loran Orran sighed. "That was a necessary sacrifice. You were causing too much trouble, and Aras is… was not one to stand for it. I—"

  "He took my arm!" I screamed the words at him, my voice breaking on them. Listening to him trying to rationalise the decision sickened me.

  "I had no choice."

  I screamed at him again. No words. Sometimes words cannot do justice to our feelings. Sometimes we have nothing but the anger, fury, sadness, and pain, and no way to express them save the violence of a scream.

  The Iron Legion frowned, his ancient face growing even more lined. The man had been alive for only a decade longer than I, but his body had seen more than three times that many years. He was frail and slow and weak, but still strong enough to beat me. Seething is a good way to describe how I felt. Seething, and powerless to act upon it. It reminded me of Do'shan, after Silva and after Prena. The Iron Legion had me beaten then as well, held against my will.

  "You were wrong." I forced out a bitter laugh. No humour to it, only hatred. "Josef wasn't the chosen one, was he?"

  "I was not wrong. And yet also, I was." The Iron Legion waved a hand and a portal tore open. Through it I could see a dark cell, a body in the ragged remains of a robe lying against the wall. Josef. He was still alive!

  My friend stirred, eyes squinting against the light coming through the portal. I saw recognition dawn on him, but he seemed different somehow.

  "Come on, Yenhelm." The Iron Legion held the portal open while Josef stood and walked through it. He blinked rapidly, his face gaunt and his skin greasy. He looked like a scab, matted hair on his head and face. Malnourished and parched. "I finally have both of you. It's time."

  Josef tore his weary eyes from me and glanced toward the cages stacked in rows. "Two hundred and sixteen. Please don't make me do it. Not again." He sounded weary, beaten. Numb.

  The Iron Legion shook his head, his eyes hard. "No. Four hundred and thirty-two."

  Panic gripped Josef and he shook his head wildly. "Not her. Leave Eska alone." Still trying to protect me. Still looking out for me. Still my brother. I loved him for that. That, and everything else.

  "Yes, her. Both of you. You know what happens if you refuse." At the Iron Legion's words, Josef cowered, seeming to collapse in on himself. He slumped over and sobbed.

  "What is going on?" Again, I tried to reach for my magic. To strike the Iron Legion down and save Josef. "Why do you need both of us?"

  "Because I made a mistake," the Iron Legion snarled the words, as though they tasted foul. "The Auguries were instructions, yes. But not to create a chosen one. There has to be two of you."

  "Unity of purpose," I said, and all the pieces fell into place. Finally.

  "Indeed." The Iron Legion waved a hand my way. "One is the fusion of both life and death. A coin flipped and landing on both sides at once. Well, you certainly are that, Helsene. In more than just name."

  He waved his other hand toward where Josef waited meekly. "Two is the renewal. A re-forging into something the same, yet different. Yenhelm was so very close to death. So close it changed something in him. Triggered the Biomancy Source I put inside. He can heal almost any wound within moments, and I have a feeling I have finally discovered the secret to immortality." He laughed then, an old man's cackle. "A shame it comes too late in my life. I will fix that."

  The Iron Legion took a step back and gestured to us both. "Three is the unity of purpose. Two forces acting together for an uncommon goal. Not a chosen one at all, but a chose two. You are linked, just as the Rand and Djinn are linked. They cannot escape that one law that has bound them together for eternity. They've tried, I know all about it. The Djinn and their pocket realms, the Rand and their Aspects." The Iron Legion scoffed. "Vainfold and his brothers are not trapped inside their realms because they no longer have the power to escape. They're trapped there because it's the only thing keeping them alive. If such a thing can be called life. Their Rand counterparts are long dead, and if they re-entered Ovaeris, the laws of the world would affect them once more. They would die. They might as well be dead for the use they serve."

  I barely heard his tirade. A question was rattling around in my head, so urgent I had to ask it. So important I dreaded the answer. "What about the Aspects?"

  Again, the Iron Legion scoffed. "A nice attempt, but ultimately fruitless. The Rand and Djinn are linked. The Rand think that separating a part of themselves off would be enough to trick the laws of the world." He shook his head. "There are no loopholes for the laws of the world. If Aerolis dies, so too does Mezula. I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh on the Rand; it was a nice attempt and the Aspects did give rise to Sourcery."

  I stopped listening as the full impact of his words hit me. There are no loopholes for the laws of the world. Silva didn't have to die. If I had only listened to her. If I had only trusted her. We could have pitted our combined power against Aerolis. We could have won. We could have rid the world of both the Rand and the Djinn right then and lived our lives together. She was gone because neither of us understood the rules of the world. Gone because I had killed her thinking I had no other choice. Gone and she didn't have to be. I killed the woman I loved for no reason. I hated myself. I hated the Rand and the Djinn. I hated the Iron Legion. I hated the whole fucking world! And as I realised the full consequences of my mistake, I became convinced… The world hates me back.

  "Eska?" I felt grimy arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me into an embrace. I was keening, unable to stop myself. I wiped tears on Josef's rags. I felt like I had just murdered Silva all over again, only this time it was worse because it didn't have to happen.

  The Iron Legion continued, oblivious to my pain. "With you I'm going to right the greatest wrong of this world. I'm going to correct it." He grinned and reached into the folds of his robe. Josef pulled away from me and Loran handed a small metal sceptre to him, a dark Source held at its head. Then he advanced on me and slotted another Source into the small depression on my single manacle. "I'm going to bring the Rand and Djinn back to life. All of them."

  Chapter 34

  "Start at the other end, Yenhelm. Two hundred and sixteen." The Iron Legion released me from the rock holding me in place just long enough to drag me towards the cages. He was surprisingly strong for such an old man. I flailed a bit, even landed a punch on his chin with my arm, but I was struggling to find any real fight and he barely felt it. He pushed me against the bars of the first cell and the metal warped, winding around my arm and legs to hold me in place. I spat at him then. Anything I could do, any resistance I could put up no matter how fruitless. The bastard might have won, but I would be damned before I went down quietly. He gave me a reproachful glare and wiped the spittle away.

  "I can't do this," Josef said from the other end of the cells.

  "You know what happens if you defy me, Yenhelm."

  Two men loitered nearby, not caged. They wore the remnants of Terrelan military uniforms, though the emblems had been cut away and the clothes had seen better days. The Iron Legion glanced their way. "Start bringing me the prisoners, one at a time."

  I tried to pull against the metal holding me in place,
but I was held tight. I even swung my stump at the Iron Legion, but it brushed against his robes harmlessly and the man shot me a pitying look. I hated him. I just wanted him to die. I heard Josef sobbing, but couldn't see through the gloom to where he stood. Whatever was happening, it was causing my friend, my brother, my other half pain and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

  The first of the prisoners was brought forward, a thin woman who couldn't even stand without the soldier holding her up. Her hair was grey and matted, and her eyes dull brown, barely a spark of life within them. The Iron Legion gripped her around the neck with one hand and put his other on my chest. "This might feel a little unpleasant." Even as he said the words, I realised the truth of them. He dragged the woman's spirit from her body. I didn't even think such a thing was possible. But of course, it was. I could use my Necromancy to force a person's soul, their spirit back into their body. Necromancy and Biomancy were always two sides of a coin, it made sense that Biomancy could be used in such a hateful way.

  I had a flash of memory as the soul was channelled through me. A brief flicker of another life. A grandmother sitting by a low fire, a daughter beside her and a granddaughter on her knee. Three generations of a family all huddled close near a fire. A house full of love and comfort. The memory was gone as quickly as it had appeared, like a dream leaving only fleeting emotion behind. Forgotten. Gone. I felt the spirit travel through me, had no say in where it went or what it left behind. Through my chest, down my arm, and into the manacle. Into the Source embedded in the metal.

  I gasped, still trying to grasp what had just happened. My eyes met the Iron Legion's. "What…"

  "Next." He reached for the next prisoner.

  He was relentless. Prisoner after prisoner. Life after life. I found myself swamped in fragments of memories, subjected to a hundred different lives. I nearly lost myself in that maelstrom. Here, a young man proud to be a soldier in service of his emperor. There, another man with eyes for a woman who would never love him back. A woman searching for a lost shoe, her favourite pair forever split in two. A young boy stubbing his toe and crying for his mother. A wizened old crone tricking villagers into believing her a witch. A man with lands and title counting his money. A young girl playing with a dog down by a frozen river. Each one fleeting, a shard of memory and emotion, and then gone, replaced by another. And another. And another. I struggled to know where I ended, and the memories of others began.

  If the Iron Legion felt the same torment of memories, he did not show it. I think neither he nor Josef felt them. It was unique to me. Two hundred and sixteen people were killed before me that day, and another equal number at Josef's hands. Two hundred and sixteen lives passed through me, channelled into the Source. Two hundred and sixteen souls to measure up to just one Djinn life.

  I could not stop what happened next. As the last of the souls passed through me and into the Source, the same process was completed with Josef. The Source attached to my manacle began to glow, softly at first but brighter and brighter and brighter still. A blue glow. Time. Chronomancy. It popped free of the manacle and dropped to the ground. I sagged against my restraints, unable to do anything but watch. Near Josef, the Source was glowing a brilliant yellow and he dropped the sceptre. The Iron Legion rushed forward and collected both Sources, carrying them to the centre of the room where two new pedestals waited, risen from the very rock around us. Josef drifted closer to me, and we could only watch the atrocity we had just committed.

  "I'm sorry." Josef said, though he looked more numb than apologetic. I never considered how the taken lives and channelled souls affected him. For me, each one left something with me, a fragment of a memory, the feeling of having lived others' lives. For him, each one took a little something from him on its way, something he could never get back. His sanity washed away in a flood of souls. "Your arm."

  "Is gone." The words hissed from me. "Get me out of here."

  The lights in the centre of the room were pulsing brighter and brighter, yellow and blue alternating their pulses, casting the laboratory in dizzying hues. Josef moved closer and pulled on the twisted metal of the bars that held me. They didn't budge. He shook his head at me. One of the soldiers chuckled.

  "What about this manacle?" I asked.

  Josef poked at the metal secured around my wrist and I winced at the pain as it dug deeper into my flesh. Blood welled up fresh and ran along my hand, dripping from my fingers. Again, Josef shook his head.

  I sighed. Trapped. Beaten. We had lost. I wished Ssserakis would speak, reassure me we could still fight, even if it was a lie. "What happens next?"

  "I don't know." Josef turned his attention to the where the Iron Legion waited in the centre of the room, between the two pedestals and their pulsing Sources. "It's never got this far before. They've always cracked and shattered."

  The pulsing of the two Sources was changing, slowing, synchronising. A gradual process of the two forces being brought into tune with one another. A third soldier slipped into the room and paused, staring towards the Sources for a moment, before turning towards us. She wore the same faded uniform as the others but had a beautiful face and glossy raven-dark hair. I thought nothing of it and turned my attention back to the Iron Legion.

  "Stop this!" I screamed the words so loud the Iron Legion had to look over. "You don't know what you're doing."

  The Iron Legion took two steps toward me. "I am righting a wrong, Helsene. Ending the War Eternal. Fixing the world." He pitched his voice to carry and I realised there was noise escaping the Sources; two vibrating hums slowly merging into one. "Only the Rand and Djinn working together can undo what they did. It requires the union of their powers to close the hole in the world. And it requires them both to undo what their magic has done to me."

  "How can you end a war that was dead before any of us were even born? Aerolis and Mezula ended the war, Loran. They conspired together to kill the last of their brothers and sisters because they knew there could never be any other end to the war. Even then, they can't stop trying to kill each other. The Rand and the Djinn may be one, two sides of the same coin, but they are opposite. They will never allow the other to live. You aren't ending the war, you're reigniting it!" My words fell on deaf ears, it seemed, and the Iron Legion turned back to the pulsing Sources. "You're perpetuating it! Giving them a way to kill each other endlessly and bring themselves back using our lives!"

  Of course, he didn't care. Lives no longer meant anything to the Iron Legion, perhaps they never had. All he truly cared about was his own vapid life. His declaration of trying to save the world was never anything but justification for the murder of innocents.

  Speaking of murder, the third soldier reached us, a grin on her flawless face. I might have realised had my attention not been rooted on the Iron Legion. Though, in truth it wouldn't have mattered, there was nothing I could have done. A knife flicked out, burying itself deep in the first soldier's heart. Before the second could react, the woman stepped close and dragged him down, kicking his legs from beneath him and snapping his neck. Recognition dawned on me far too late.

  "Coby."

  The Aspect grinned, savage and victorious. "Did you think I'd forgotten about you?" She glanced over her shoulder, but it was clear the Iron Legion was paying them no attention as the glow and hum of the Sources were almost synchronised. Coby turned back to me and leaned in close, hands going to my neck. I knew just how strong she was and even Hardt would look weak in comparison.

  "Stop!" Josef, still trying to protect me, but Coby just shoved him away and he sprawled on the floor.

  Coby's hands closed around my neck and I smiled at her. Death would be a victory of sorts. Without me the Iron Legion could bring no other Rand or Djinn back from the dead.

  It would be a hollow victory I would not get to enjoy.

  Chapter 35

  Death did not come. Coby paused, her hands around my neck, fingers pressing lightly into my flesh. "Why are you smiling, you mad bitch?" She could change her appearan
ce at will, but her voice never changed. And it always dripped with scorn when she spoke to me.

  "You're as responsible for Silva's death as I am. You and your mother both." Hands tightened around my throat and to say it was uncomfortable would be an understatement, but I ploughed on, desperate to get my own hatred out before I died. "You knew. You fucking knew and you let her go to Do'shan anyway. Mezula sent her to her death." I leaned forward into Coby's grip even though it strangled me, and glared at her, tears in my eyes. "You blame me because you're too much of a fucking coward to blame your mother, and you were too much of a coward to take Silva's place!"

  Coby leaned in, thumbs pressed into flesh. I couldn't breathe. "She was supposed to die for something." Her breath was hot and warm and smelled of death. "Because of you she died for nothing!"

  "She'd still be dead," I spat the words through the choking hands around my throat. And then they vanished, leaving me dangling in the metal bars, desperately trying to suck in air.

  I had to blink away tears and when I looked up, I found Coby had changed. Gone was the tattered soldier's uniform and the cocky gait. Now she stood before me in a flowing red dress. She looked so much like Silva it hurt, her face almost an exact mimicry except her skin was dark instead of light and her hair as black as my own instead of shining with light. So similar, yet completely different. I wondered if this appearance was as close to the real Coby as anyone ever got. Only Silva had ever really known what her sister looked like under the constant shifting glamours, and it was a secret she took to her grave.

  A thought struck me, a moment of clarity. Something Josef had once said to me after an Empamancy lesson back at the academy. Anger is often misplaced. When it is not allowed one avenue, it will invariably seek another. "You wish it had been you?" I asked.