Ashes Of Memory

by Aiden Bates

  Oily flesh sizzled, evaporating where the fury struck it. I couldn’t kill it, I thought, as it slowly recovered from the blow and resumed its hunt for me. But, it was slower—weaker. Something abyssal, maybe, or some fragment of that mage’s mind lodged in mine at the last moment when we were connected. As I had the thought, half of its face even twisted and bulged and took on an aspect of the tall man.

  Thin, bloodless lips twisted to a rictus that was half-snarl, half grinning madman, and another hand shot out for me.

  I forced it to the side with my will, and reached for more emotions. Grief from the days after I’d been taken to the cabal, away from my mother. Anger when I realized she wasn’t going to see me. Fear that I would always be alone. Rejection when my first lover felt the touch of my mind and recoiled.

  I took all of that and made it a hammer, and struck the fragment with it, pounding it into the ground against an anvil of sheer resolve. It broke like brittle steel this time, but the pieces crept toward one another. That face emerged again, more furious, and more whole.

  There had to be something else, something stronger, deeper. Something that could tap the depths of my power, give me a foundation that I could root myself to.

  “Stay... with... me,” a voice gurgled from that uneven mouth as the night creature rose up once more on those nightmare legs. “Mine... now... need the blood...”

  “Never,” I hissed. “I don’t belong to you, or to anyone, I—”

  It hit me then, in a moment of clarity that rang like a bell and stilled the fear inside me.

  I straightened as the realization took shape. “I don’t belong to you,” I said again. “And I never will. I already belong to someone.”

  When I reached out to the air beside me, the hilt of a sword met my palm, and I closed my fingers around it. I brandished it at the shadow. The blade was golden and burning, spectral flames licking the edge, and pulsing in time with two hearts.

  Fear, anger, rejection, grief—the problem with all of those is that they’re temporary. As weapons go, they’re brittle, because they break easily, in the scheme of things. The hurt eases in time, scars heal. Pain never seems to last.

  But love? Love only grows stronger, if you let it. Even when it cools, it’s only tempered like steel plunged into oil, not weakened. I took a step toward the darkness, and raised the sword high.

  It recoiled, as if it could sense what was coming. Maybe it could, but I didn’t think it was capable of truly comprehending. I brought the sword down, and cut through it.

  The shadow that made it parted, the cut edges burning. The light returned to the world, burning away still more of it. I cut again, and again, and each time the pieces that flew burned away in the sun that seemed to get brighter with each strike, until all that was left was a hard lump of something black as the void, like a hole in this world. I let the sword go, and crooked my fingers, and a box of bright metal like the blade rose up from the ground and closed around the lump, sealing it without seams.

  I squatted to pick it up. “You don’t have to go home,” I told it with a sigh, “but you can’t stay here.”

  When I turned, a door waited for me, an extension of my intention to leave this place. There were fewer locks, just a single deadbolt. I held the box gingerly in one hand and glanced to give the Big Wall of Bad a final look of consideration.

  I could look. I could take a peek, find out what was there, maybe learn something from a previous mistake. Surely, I’d just slipped up at some point, let the wrong bad guy take advantage.

  But then I thought of Tam. Of what we’d shared. What we had again, that we’d lost for a while. Nothing in the past was worth trading for what might be in our future. I turned away from the wall, and opened the door to go through it.

  And in the next breath, I opened my eyes to see Master Nkendi standing over me. “Do it,” she said quickly, before I even managed to take another breath.

  I sat up, and from deep in my chest a pressure squeezed up, almost choking me, until finally I dislodged it with a hacking cough.

  Something dark and viscous poured from my mouth. Corrupt ectoplasm, maybe, some kind of matter that didn’t belong in the world. It billowed from my mouth and into the air in front of me, hanging there briefly before Master Nkendi gave a harsh bark of command, and pulled the broad cork from a clay jar.

  There was a rush of air, and a groan like metal being torn, and the black ectoplasm swirled and stretched before it was drawn into the empty jar. The second the last bit of it was in, my master slammed the cork back into place and quickly turned to dip the top of the jar into a bowl of black wax. She took it out, and passed it to one of the other masters in the room—Master Eisenberg—who expertly carved something into the top with a small knife, muttering as he did.

  When he finished, there was a final, brief tension that hung in the room before we all took a collective breath to see Master Eisenberg give a small nod. “Done.”

  I fell back to the pillow, exhausted.

  Master Nkendi looked down at me. I looked up at her. “Hello, Master.”

  “Hello, pupil,” she said, one eyebrow arching. “You and I shall have words, very soon.”

  “I know we will,” I breathed.

  I realized there was a body beside me, and turned to see Tam dozing peacefully. “Is he...?”

  “Asleep,” Master Nkendi said. “He will wake. He is safely returned.”

  I nodded, and looked around the room, then down at the IV in my arm. “How long?”

  “A week,” she said. “You are getting better at nearly dying.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” I muttered. “Where’s Baz?”

  She snorted. “We are not a dragon childcare facility. His people came and retrieved him.”

  Safe, then. I closed my eyes, smiling. “That’s good.”

  I tried to open my eyes again, but they wouldn’t. And then the exhaustion got the better of me. I think Master Nkendi left us, ushering the other masters out as well. I did wake up momentarily, I think. I remember the taste of Tam’s lips, and his grumbling voice.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “And this time I’m never letting go.”

  Then I slept. And this time, I had good dreams.

  17

  Tam

  Haval's and Sophia’s funerals were stoic affairs. Dragons burned their dead in dragonfire, and sowed the ashes in a grove at the center of the weyr, where dragon lilies grew beneath great oaks that looked more ancient than they were. The oaks produced acorns that had a reddish hue to them, which were gathered into small cairns all around the area.

  Everyone in the weyr dressed in their nicer suits, including Baz, who still hadn’t quite seemed to come to terms with what had happened. But once we got back to Blackstone Weyr, he at least seemed to liven up some. He was more talkative, though I hadn’t heard him laugh once since we returned.

  I kept the truth about Sophia to myself. She was gone now. There was no reason to burden the rest of the weyr with her betrayal.

  When it was done, I can’t say that I felt better about it, but I was perhaps more at peace. I squeezed Vance’s hand. He’d held onto it all day, nearly. “Thank you for being here.”

  He glanced up at me. “Of course,” he said, as if nothing else would have made sense. “I wouldn’t have missed it, Tam.”

  I smiled, and gave a small nod before I kissed him. “I know. You think he’s okay?”

  We both looked to where Baz stood a few feet in front of us, arms at his side, watching as the last members of the weyr placed red acorns over the small mound where Haval’s ashes had been placed and covered.

  Vance sighed. “I don’t want to dig into his mind without his permission, of course,” he said. “But he’s putting off... solemnity? I think he’s accepted that his parents are gone, at least. Whether he’s ready to deal with the reality of it or not, though... I don’t know. Just give him time.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s what Liana says. All of this is too m
uch for a kid to have to deal with.”

  “True,” Vance said, tugging at my hand. “But we all have something to deal with at some point. We’ll just have to be there for him. Love him, make sure he knows it. Give him a foundation to stand on.”

  My heart pulsed a bit harder, just once. I raised an eyebrow and eyed him. “We?”

  He shrugged. “Liana told me you planned to adopt him. Makes sense. But, you know, parenting alone is tough. A lot of work. Especially for a kid dragon—you lot are hard work.”

  I chuckled. “Are we now?”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I mean I’ve almost died, what, twice now? And I’m just dating one.”

  My smile faltered.

  Vance winced, and put a hand to my chest. “Sorry, sorry. Too soon, I know. Humor helps. My point is... before—that is, before before—we’d talked about, you know... moving in. I’m second circle. I don’t have to stay at the cabal. Maybe we could pick up where we left off?”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to live with me—he practically had been since he woke up in Master Nkendi’s quarters a week ago. But there was still a lot of work the two of them were doing. He had a strong foundation to build on now, but he was with her at least four hours a day piecing the rest together, recovering more recent memories, establishing new internal protections, doing a lot of stuff I didn’t begin to understand.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “I mean I want you to, of course. I want you all to myself, for as long as you’ll have me. Just...”

  “I might go nuclear?” he offered.

  “I don’t mean that,” I said, but he of course knew that wasn’t entirely true the moment I spoke.

  He looked down at where our hands were clasped, as if he might let go. Instead, he took a breath, and then nodded. “You’re not wrong. And... I certainly don’t want to accidentally explode in Baz’s presence. I could do damage.”

  “I’m not worried you’ll hurt—”

  Vance put a hand up. “You don’t have to explain,” he said. “It’s okay. With all these new-old memories in my head I... it’s easy to feel like it hasn’t been three years since we were together. It’s fast. I get it. I just have to reorient my sense of time a little, that’s all.”

  I hated that he felt that way, and wished that he was well enough to be as open to me as he had once been. But Nkendi had warned that it was a bad idea, at least for a while. Just until he was all put back together properly. “I promise,” I told him, and meant it, “it’s not because it’s been three years. I want what’s best for you. I took chances before, getting you involved in things that were dangerous. This time, no one is abducted or murdered, nothing dire is happening—I just want you to get better. That’s all.”

  He bobbed his head, understanding but clearly not satisfied. “All right. I hear you. Still... I was hoping I could at least stay the night?”

  I grinned. “Obviously, you’re staying tonight.”

  “And maybe tomorrow night,” he murmured.

  “And probably tomorrow night,” I agreed.

  He snorted, and rolled his eyes before he kissed me again. “You know, there’s a certain point at which, if I’m staying over every night, I do basically live with you.”

  When I only stared at him, he blinked, and cocked his head to the side, confused. “What?”

  I recovered, shaking my head. “Nothing. Just... you said that before. Almost the exact words. We’d been together a few months. It—it’s not anything bad, just kind of caught me by surprise. Took me back.”

  The look in his eyes said that he didn’t necessarily agree it was nothing to worry about. But whatever that thought was that passed through him, it faded as Baz came toward us.

  “Hey, buddy,” Vance said, letting my hand go to kneel down as Baz came to a stop. “You doing okay?”

  Baz shrugged. “I guess.”

  Which meant ‘no, but I’m too embarrassed to tell an adult.’ Haval and I had both done it plenty when we were kids. I ruffled his hair a bit, and pulled him to me to pat his back. “How about,” I said, “we go home and break out the ice cream? It feels like an ice cream kind of day.”

  He looked up at me, the barest hint of hope in eyes that had been otherwise largely emotionless the last weeks. Progress, maybe. Liana wanted him to speak with the weyr’s counselor, which was a good idea, but I hadn’t been able to get Baz on board with it. Yet. We would get there.

  “I have it on good authority,” Vance whispered conspiratorially, “that there is a giant tub of peanut butter-chocolate in the freezer. It appeared mysteriously when I got here, like magic.”

  “Okay,” Baz said.

  Vance’s face barely registered his disappointment before he patted my nephew on the shoulder and stood. It was Baz’s favorite.

  “Little steps,” I said quietly. “Thanks.”

  Vance just gave a half-shrug, and reached for Baz’s hand. “Should we go?”

  Baz took his hand without a word, and I took the other, and the three of us walked away from the ash grove and up the street toward my place, quietly contemplative, and all probably worried about different things.

  “And when the Fairy Queen saw that none of her enchantments could frighten Janet,” Vance said a few hours later, as we put Baz to bed for the night, “she cried out, ‘The maiden has won a stately bridegroom who was my bonniest knight. Alas! Tam Lin is lost to Elfland.’ So. On into the night the fairy train rode, as Tam Lin and Lady Janet hastened back to the castle. There, in no time at all, a wedding feast was prepared, and Tam Lin—who was really an earl—and Lady Janet, the bravest maid in Scotland, were married. The end.”

  Baz regarded Vance with a long moment of mild concern.

  “So, it all turned out all right in the end,” Vance explained, smiling as he tugged the blanket up to Baz’s neck. “All because Janet trusted Tam Lin when he said that she should hold fast, and not be afraid.”

  “But... the fae don’t live in Elfland,” Baz said slowly. “And they can go walking anytime, not just Halloween.”

  “Both entirely rational points,” Vance agreed. He chuckled, and leaned in to kiss Baz on the forehead. “That’s why it’s a story, and not a history lesson.”

  Well, he’d tried, anyway. And in the long run, maybe it was the effort that counted. I definitely didn’t know any bedtime stories. I’d have to get some books, maybe. “Time to sleep, buddy,” I said as I got up from the chair near the foot of the bed and moved it back to the corner. “Can you say good night to Vance?”

  “Good night, Uncle Vance,” he said quietly, and shuffled to his side to close his eyes.

  Vance stood, a half-smile on his lips that seemed forced. “Night, kiddo.”

  We left him, the door cracked the way he usually wanted, and padded down the hallway to the stairs, and then to the kitchen.

  “Swing and a miss,” he said when we were at the kitchen island where I poured the last of a bottle of wine into two glasses, barely a few swallows left.

  “I think he’s just used to more... contemporary stuff,” I offered. “I’ve got some of his books in a box from Haval’s place. And anyway, after what he’s been through...”

  Vance nodded as he took his glass and put away the little bit of wine there in a swallow. “I know,” he said. “I’m not offended or anything. I just wish I could make him smile or something, you know?”

  “Well, he knows a few fae personally, and the bit about the dragon—”

  He rolled his eyes. “I knew I’d hear it for the dragon bit. It’s a fairy tale.”

  “It is,” I agreed, and swallowed my wine before I put the glass down and came around the counter to brush my fingers over his cheek. “And you told it wonderfully. It’s just going to take some time. And we have plenty, yeah?”

  That, at least, seemed to improve his mood. “Yeah, we do. I’ll help you clean up.”

  “Nah,” I said, waving a hand. “Leave it. Just a few bowls, I’ll get them tomorrow. You n
eed a good night’s sleep. Come on. I’ll tuck you in, and tell you a story.”

  “It’s not a competition, you know,” he murmured as he dug his fingers into my hips and pulled me closer, his hips moving suggestively. “And it’s not stories I want for bedtime.”

  “Ah,” I grunted. “You know, I’m okay being teased, but you’re just gonna make it worse for yourself.”

  “Who said anything about teasing?” he asked, and winked as he hooked a finger into my belt and tugged me to the living room.

  I let him lead me through it and to the bedroom. “I told you,” I said as he drew me in and waved for me to close the door, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine waiting until you’re ready.”

  He let my belt go, and pulled his shirt off, glancing coyly over his shoulder. “I know you are,” he said, and went to work on his slacks. “But I’m tired of waiting.”

  In the week since he’d woken up, we hadn’t had sex. Not because we didn’t want to—we very much did—but because it wasn’t safe for him to lose control just yet. A meeting of the minds at the wrong moment, and we could both be in trouble. So, for seven days—five of which he spent with me—we had cuddled, and grinded a little, and felt one another up, but always stopped before it went too far. Frustrating? Yes, but not in a totally bad way.

  Not for me, at least.

  Vance waved a finger at my clothes. “Strip, big guy.”

  I laughed, and plucked the buttons of my shirt. “You’re just going to end up resenting me.”

  He shook his head slowly, and came close. “Don’t think so,” he said, and worked my belt loose. “If I have to spend another night next to you, though, and not allowed to get even a little taste, well... that might do it.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said, shucking the shirt as he slipped my belt free and worked the clasp of my slacks open. “So, I’ve got to pay you rent or you’ll stop sleeping over?”

  He gave a lopsided grin. “Basically, yeah.”