Ashes Of Memory

by Aiden Bates

  I am, I shot back. I’ll stay behind you, but I need to get closer to check the protections.

  He only nodded, and then turned to stalk off the utility road and into the trees.

  A shiver ran through me as I followed him. All of this was a little familiar. Like déjà vu of a déjà vu. None of the big red flags and alarms that were clustered in my brain went off yet, but there was a tense feeling of anticipation where those spells were nested, as if they were watching and waiting for the right moment to warn me. Probably, that was just the involvement of abyssal magic.

  Still, as we got closer to the dead zone and I took up a post behind one of the larger trees to close my eyes and send the lightest thread of magic I could out across the area to feel around for any kind of spell structure hiding a lair—these types always had ‘lairs’—it was very much like I’d done this exact thing before. When I did find the tenuous fabric of a concealment ward, it even felt familiar. The structure of it, the amplitude of magic being used, the angles of the threads; it was like picking up a childhood blanket and suddenly remembering the texture of it for the first time in decades.

  Except, a lot less comforting.

  Tam, there’s a boundary about six feet ahead of you, I told him. There’s a psychic component to it. Once you’re inside, I won’t be able to keep us connected.

  Can you pick it apart? he asked.

  Not quickly enough, I said. Once I start, whoever’s responsible for keeping it intact will know, and our cover will be blown. Can you hear anything coming from inside?

  There was a pause, and a sense of focus that came across our link as he tuned his senses. I couldn’t quite pick up what he actually heard or smelled, but I knew that he was picking something up. A moment later, he confirmed it. Barely, he reported. They must be dampening the sound, but it’s not a hundred percent.

  Amateurs, I sent.

  Don’t get overconfident, he warned me. They got into and out of a weyr and killed two dragons in the process, even if one of them was a traitor.

  Fair point. I tapped my finger on my chin, considering our options as I probed the shape and limits of the warding. There were parts that I couldn’t see at all—magic different enough from my own that I didn’t have a basis of comparison. Probably not abyssal in nature, at least. Abyssal magic degraded quickly, and wasn’t suitable for anything like this. The taint of it was distant, confined to whatever was going on inside. That I wouldn’t have felt at all, except that I had some unfortunate familiarity.

  We should try to flush them out, I suggested, as a thought occurred to me. I can establish a second perimeter, outside theirs. Something simple and subtle, like a confusion ward. You can pick them off quietly once they’re out. I’ll stun them, once they’re off balance, you grab them.

  That’s a terrible idea, Tam complained. They’ve got Baz in there.

  Exactly, I replied. They’ve got him, which means they want him for something. Once the first few are out, and don’t come back, they’ll get suspicious, but until then we can whittle down their numbers.

  We didn’t actually know how many were in there, but based on everything I’d felt at the weyr, and the size of the van, there couldn’t have been more than six or seven at the most. In terms of mages, assuming that’s all they had with them, that was kind of a lot. But mages didn’t heal like shifters, and as long as they were taken by surprise, they died just like any mortal. Well, except necromancers.

  How do you suggest we lure them out? Tam asked. There was a hint of appreciation in his thoughts. He was duly impressed.

  I tried not to let the little flare of pride I felt in that carry across the link. Make a distraction, I suggested. Then when it looks like they’re on alert, go around the back. I can guide you there. The compound isn’t very large, probably because it takes more work to maintain cover.

  Tam seemed to consider that, gears turning as a series of possibilities drifted quickly over his surface thoughts and resonated across the link. For half a second, I could have sworn there was something like concern there—a sudden, acute sort of worry, for me.

  Not the kind of worry a person had for a team member. Deeper than that.

  I’ll be okay, I reminded him.

  Chagrin whispered across the link, but he quashed it. Right. I know what I’ll do. Let me know when you’re ready.

  I gave a nod that he could feel even if he couldn’t see it, and temporarily drew my attention away from the link to focus instead on building a structure of magic and psychic energy around the outside of the ward. It didn’t have to be sophisticated or anything. If there were more people in the area, I could have made it stronger, but all I really needed was for anyone that crossed it—anyone except Tam, I reminded myself as I adjusted the frequency of the ward to harmonize with his mind instead of disrupting it—to hesitate with just a few seconds of confusion about what they were doing. Like a spider’s web, I would know when they came into contact with it.

  It took a lot longer than I would have liked, but when it was finally done, I let Tam know. He’d moved since we last had contact, and about three seconds after I gave him the signal, I learned why.

  Somewhere in the forest toward the utility road, there was a sharp crack. The ground shuddered. And then a massive tree fell, crashing through the branches of its neighbors, sending birds flying and small animals bolting through the underbrush.

  About a half second later, the first of Baz’s abductors sent a tremor along the inner edge of my ward, and there was no turning back.

  11

  Tam

  Once the tree came crashing down, I had a sudden horrified thought. One that came too late.

  What if this was all a trap, meant to lure Vance back into the grip of the Dark Eaters?

  It was irrational, of course. And that was the problem. With Vance here, even if he was out of sight, even if he could defend himself and be very, very clever when it was called for, he was still here and I couldn’t help that my attention split automatically between him and the task at hand as I sprinted around from where I’d felled the tree, ducked under it just before it struck the ground, and went barreling toward the Dark Eater lair.

  Focus. I needed to trust Vance, and focus.

  Eight o’clock, Vance’s voice spoke in my head. Just one for now, be ready.

  By the time the noise settled, I was posted behind a tree as close to the boundary as I could get. I watched the spot he’d directed me to, my vision shifting so that every color, every shape stood out in harsh detail, my dragon so close to the surface of me that I could have shifted in the space of a breath. Scales roughed at the inside of my clothing.

  The first of them appeared out of thin air. One moment, nothing but a copse of trees and bushes, the next, a short-looking guy with about a week’s worth of stubble on his angular jaw appeared as if coalescing from colored mist. He was dressed in clothing that had seen better days, torn jeans and a leather jacket that had long lost its polish; shit-kicker boots had mismatched laces and were scuffed all over. He also had something in his hand—some kind of short, thick black rod. He peered into the woods, then took a few more steps as if to investigate further.

  Now, Vance informed me.

  At the same moment, the guy paused, blinked several times, and turned slowly to his right, his lips tugging down in a frown of uncertainty.

  I only needed a few seconds. I might not be a cat, but all shifters are fast. Much faster than any human, and almost any mage. This asshole wasn’t one of the mages who specialized in anything combat related. I crossed the distance between us before he could manage to turn back around at the sound of my approach.

  He brought the rod up. I felt magic stir, like a subtle ringing in my ears. But by then I had my hands on his skull. His neck snapped like a dry twig, and I grabbed two handfuls of his jacket to hurl him off into the trees before I bolted to the nearest trunk and put it between myself and the lair.

  The man’s body hit the ground, made some more noise, a
nd came to a stop just at the edge of a hill leading down into a gulch.

  Another one, Vance warned. Uh… two o’clock.

  I couldn’t help a moment of irritation as I translated that for myself, given that I was facing away from the lair at this point.

  I can’t tell which direction you’re facing, Vance shot over the link as I peeked out from behind the tree. Clearly, I’d been thinking too loudly.

  A second before I could decide whether to respond or not, another mage coalesced like the one before as she passed the barrier protecting the place. Her red hair hung in chunks around her face, unwashed for days or weeks, and she looked a great deal more aware than the one before her. Already, tiny crackles of gathered magic leapt around her fingers. An elementalist, maybe. She took a step forward, squinting, and crossed Vance’s trap.

  Like before, she paused, and then moved to look behind her.

  I darted out from cover as soon as she turned. Two leaping strides, and I had my hands on her chin and the back of her head.

  Magic flashed. Fire and electricity washed over me, biting at my skin and setting my shirt aflame. My dragon rushed forward, pushing my half-shifted scales out to protect me. Most of the magic simply dissipated, but that electric current made my muscles seize briefly.

  Fortunately, I already had my hands on the mage. As muscles contracted from the shock, I jerked her off her feet by accident. The shock passed, and I followed through, slamming her to the ground head first. She raised a hand as her mouth opened, but I already had an elbow twisting toward her temple. It struck with a satisfying crack, and however many were inside before, there were now two less to worry about.

  I gave this one the same treatment as the other, hauling her up by her clothing and tossing her between the trees to join the other.

  Shit, Vance called mentally, panic clear in his contact. Three. Three more, all at once, spread out, they—

  His contact cut off as I whirled to see three forms appearing. They spotted me at the same moment. One of them took a step forward. Magic rang. His form blurred. He passed the barrier Vance had set up.

  He might have been a time mage, speeding himself up relative to his surroundings to get the jump on me. The shock of confusion from Vance’s spell, though, made that a really bad idea. The blur shot past Vance’s confusion barrier, and slammed into a tree. There was a loud, wet crack, and then a dead mage with only half a face ricocheted off the bark, stripping half of it off as he went, and rolled to a stop a few feet away, very dead.

  One of the other two barked a warning behind him. His partner thrust a hand out and made a crushing gesture as he tore something invisible aside. Across the link with Vance, I felt a burst of discomfort and frustration. Barrier’s down, that one’s an esper, I—

  The psychic link fuzzed out, his thoughts dwindling. I was already moving, charging the esper to take him out first. We dragons are proof against most magic, but when it comes to psychic attacks, we’re as vulnerable as anyone. I leapt, and the esper focused on me, his eyes going wide as his face twisted to a snarl.

  I was already in the air, which is probably all that saved me. For a brief second, my mind blanked. No thoughts, no emotions, no memory or sense of self. If I’d had my feet on the ground, I would have dropped to a stupor, senseless and blank.

  As it was, my momentum was already considerable. I crashed into the mage, mostly limp, and the two of us went crashing to the ground. I was lucky to have landed on him the way I did. It shook his concentration, and in the next breath I had enough presence of mind to slam my forehead into his nose as we tangled on the damp earth. He sputtered as blood erupted from his nose. After the second headbutt, his eyes rolled. I pushed myself off of him in time to feel magic moving behind me.

  The pleasant little copse of trees and bushes was gone now, replaced by a squat little cabin that looked like it hadn’t been lived in for decades. The windows were boarded up, and parts of the roof were missing the broad wooden shingles that had been used to cover it. It stank with old blood.

  I twisted around, taking all that in as I let my dragon out entirely. My clothing tore as rigid scales shredded cotton. My shoes split as talons pressed through them and dug into the earth. By the time the mage raked his fingers through the air and the light around us dimmed, my jaw was wide and snarling. I clenched muscles deep in my throat.

  A blaze of light struck me in the chest at the same time that a gout of burning liquid fire shot from my maw. I staggered from the impact, spraying fire wide. The fire that splashed over the mage spread across a shield and then burst like a bubble.

  He staggered back, his skin raw from the heat that he’d failed to account for. A neat arc of fire burned on the ground where he’d been. Panic was on his face, but when it came down to fight or flight, he seemingly chose fight. Magic rang, piercing my eardrums, and his hand came up just as I opened my mouth to finish roasting him.

  Something solid struck me below the jaw and gripped me, wrenching upward and trapping my jaw closed. I swiped one great paw, thinking to shred a root or break a column of air, but instead passed through something insubstantial but made of piercing cold. Darkness crept into my vision to shroud me in blindness and ice that immediately pushed through my eyes and scales to stab at my brain.

  Abyssal magic. I thrashed in its grip, trying to snap and belch fire to burn whatever held me away. A piercing cackle reached my ears. It was so, so cold—the sort that leeched away not just feeling, but everything else. Hopelessness seemed to grow in my mind like some virulent strain of fungus, trying to infect everything, and my will to fight waned.

  And then, all at once, the cold abated. I dropped to the ground. Magic shrieked, clawing at my eardrums, almost more powerful than I’d ever experienced.

  Almost.

  I shook the darkness out of my vision, and clawed at the ground to pull myself around and face the mage who’d nearly killed me.

  He was about five yards away, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Behind him, Vance’s expression was one of rage unleashed. His teeth were bared, his eyes and brow scrunched until I barely recognized him. His hands to either side of the mage’s head were crooked into claws, as if he’d hooked them into something. With a final effort and a howl of fury, he tore them away, and I could see something gossamer in the air between his hands and the mage’s head.

  His mind, I realized. Vance had ripped it apart.

  The abyssal mage dropped, eyes blank, and fell face first into the dirt.

  Vance’s shoulders rose and fell, his chest pumping. His hands, arms, and knees were shaking. He caught me staring at him. His thoughts boomed in my head. Baz is inside. Get him. I’ll go around the back.

  I winced at the volume and power behind them. He’d lost any modicum of control, but he was clearly keeping it together. I nodded, and approached the cabin as I pulled my dragon form in and posted myself up on two legs as I shrank to a half-form more suitable for entering doors, tucking my wings against my back as I did.

  The door was sturdy, and reinforced with magic. Which was cute. However many people were inside, only one of them was fireproof.

  I tensed my throat and opened my jaws wide, and sprayed fire over both the door and the magic invested in it. The wood charred in the first few seconds, and then crumbled in the next. Magic snapped like so many elastic bands with nothing to hold onto, and I stepped through the flames ready to burn everything in sight.

  He was tall, maybe close to seven feet. His near-white hair was bound in a top knot. Where the others had been dressed like they hadn’t seen civilization in a while, this one—clearly the leader—wore a slim-fitting suit, black with a red tie. He stood in the center of the cabin, his hands clasped behind his back. A circle surrounded him—something metal and laid into the floor itself. There wasn’t a whisper of magic in the place.

  But he held a slim, curved knife in one hand, and a handful of my nephew’s hair in the other.

  “The boy may be proof against fir
e,” he said coolly as I stepped into the cabin, “but the circle is not, and it will turn both of us more or less inside out if disrupted. Probably. Do I have your attention?”

  I hesitated. Baz was perfectly still. He wasn’t crying, he didn’t reach for me or call out. His eyes looked clear, though; not glazed over as if under some kind of enchantment. Why wasn’t he reacting to my presence?

  The mage could have been lying. But whatever was happening here, it was complicated, ritual magic. Like making a soufflé, it didn’t take much to collapse it, and the results were at the very least unappetizing. I stowed my fire, and shifted far enough toward human to speak.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded. Vance was circling around back. I could feel him like a burning coal at the edge of my mind where our link had been re-established.

  “Names,” the mage muttered, and gave an almost exasperated sigh as he flicked the knife dismissively. “Pointless, really. They’ll be obsolete soon enough. What’s the point? I know who you are, Tammerlin Blackstone.”

  Vance peered through the back window, rubbing grime from the glass to peek between the boards that covered it. A firestorm of anger poured across our link, and I raised a hand to urge him down, to wait before he got Baz killed.

  “Oh?” the mage asked, looking down at Baz. He thought my gesture was for him. “No, no. You misunderstand me. I don’t intend to harm the boy. I just need to finish my work, and then for all I care, you can have him back. Safe and sound. Better, even. Well. Matter of perspective, I suppose.”

  The knife inched closer to Baz’s neck.

  “Stop,” I barked, both hands up now. “If you harm him, or do anything to him, you have to know you won’t make it out of here alive. Your buddies are dead. You’re alone. Give him back to me, and you can walk.”

  “How very generous,” the mage drawled, the knife tip pressing lightly against my nephew’s cheek. Baz still didn’t react. He had to be under some kind of spell. “But you see, that assumes that my ultimate goal is to survive at all. What awaits me, dragon—what awaits us all—has nothing to do with crude flesh.”