Shadows and Embers

by Lindsey Richardson

  “Someone should tell Nicia,” Alaire said.

  “I’ll do it,” I answered, wincing at the flames that continued to consume Esmour’s body.

  “You need time to mourn,” he countered, lowering his head.

  I cleared my throat. “No, what I need are answers. Someone murdered Esmour, and there’s a chance Nicia could be in danger.”

  Though he was hesitant, he agreed and offered to clean the blood in Esmour’s house. Afterward we would join together to decide what to do, though in all honesty I was as clueless as him. Once we split up, leaving the remains of Esmour to drift to the bottom of the lake, I sprinted toward Nicia’s house. No matter how mad I had been with her or the emotions I felt for her, I could not lose her tonight. I would not burn another body at the lake. The thought of losing her was enough to distract me from thinking about the blood on my face. His blood…

  I nearly ran into the door before properly knocking. When there was no answer I grabbed for the door, but someone inside turned it. The door creaked open, and Nicia popped her head out through the thin opening.

  “May I?” I asked, pointing inside.

  She shook her head. “I’m not dressed properly.”

  “You could have fooled me,” I replied, staring at the black sleeve that covered the hand she held onto the door with.

  “Please, I’m begging you…” she said as she continued shaking her head. I grabbed the door and pushed it open, walking inside before she could stop me. She shut the door behind us, and then turning around to face me, she gasped.

  “Lord have mercy…” she whispered. She lifted her hand up the side of my face, wincing as if we shared the pain.

  “I’m fine,” I groaned. Even as I said it, I could feel my legs giving out. I collapsed, falling into Nicia’s arms. Her arms tightened as she tried to hold up my body, but she knelt down and allowed my head to rest against her chest.

  “Who did this to you?” she asked softly, stroking my hair.

  “Esmour… dead… Esmour…” I stuttered, forcing the words out.

  Another voice entered the room. “Love, who is this?”

  Turning my head, I saw a tall man leaned up against the frame of the wall. He was well dressed with symbols that seemed familiar in a sense, but I couldn’t recognize them. Though I was weak, I tried to push away from Nicia.

  “Who are you?” I croaked, crawling out of Nicia’s hands.

  “Rostland, please not now,” Nicia scowled, gesturing for him to leave the room. Instead he folded his arms, seemingly convinced he would hear an explanation.

  “During the time I’ve lived with you, I’ve never seen a man show up. Who is he?” he persisted again. His golden brown eyes narrowed down on me like I had stepped into his territory.

  Slowing rising to stand on my feet, I asked, “You’ve been falling in love with this stranger while Destin is falling apart?”

  Nicia stood up, attempting to embrace me, but I pushed her away. I had no respect for her if this was how she spent her free time, chasing down yet more men for love and attention.

  “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll kill you,” Rostland growled, glaring at me. Then with a sigh he added, “You’re one of Esmour’s, aren’t you? I was afraid this day would come…”

  “Pardon?”

  He withdrew a long sword from his belt, wiping it with his tunic. “I suppose this is the part where I introduce myself. My name is Rostland; I was a friend of Esmour’s. Nicia has been providing me shelter.”

  I glanced from him to Nicia, and I was speechless. Esmour didn’t have friends; there were only enemies and people of “value.” Even if this man was being serious, what purpose could he have to live with Nicia? Without magic, she could not protect him.

  Rubbing my head, I replied, “Forgive me, but perhaps you’re lost? Nicia betrayed Esmour, so I cannot imagine why he would allow you to live here.”

  “Because the man didn’t tell you everything. I was his friend and am saddened to hear of his passing. He asked that I stay close by because he knew something like this would happen,” Rostland explained.

  Cringing, I groaned, “I’ve had a long day. It makes no difference who you are; just leave.”

  He smirked as if he had been waiting all day for those words to leave my mouth. Then he withdrew a dagger from his belt and threw it to me. I grabbed it, though I was uncertain as to why he hadn’t aimed for a critical hit.

  “Does it bother you that Esmour shared his secrets with someone beside you? Or did he never tell you anything?” he asked, stepping closer and circling me.

  “Why did you give me this weapon?”

  Laughing, Rostland said, “Because animals can probably smell the desire for vengeance in your blood. Go on and fight me; I dare you.”

  I glanced down at the dagger momentarily, and then returned my attention to Rostland. He was trying to maneuver me into doing what he wanted. I could not allow my feelings to control my actions, but this man was no ally of mine.

  “Rostland, don’t hurt him,” Nicia begged with her hands clasped together.

  He pointed to the corner of the room, and without argument, Nicia walked to the corner and stood still. What sorcery was this? She was not the kind of woman to fall under a man’s rule. All the while, Rostland continued to circle me and the desire became a burning craving. My grip tightened around the dagger, and my entire body felt tense. I couldn’t stop myself, and biting down on my lip, I threw the dagger straight at Rostland. It hit him in the heart-something that should have killed him instantly. Instead he stood there with a huge smile on his face, and my eyes grew wide at the thought of him being more powerful than me.

  Calmly, he grabbed the dagger and ripped it out of his chest, throwing it aside. He stepped closer to me, and he didn’t stop until I could smell his salty breath.

  “I’m impressed with your weaponry skills, but your behavior is disgusting. You’re like a filthy animal, dying to kill its prey. Alas, I regret to inform you that I am the nightmare you could never fathom,” Rostland said, spitting out the words.

  “You should be dead…” I whispered. Slowly, I snuck a glance at Nicia, who held her hand over her chest like she too had been stabbed.

  “I am immortal, foolish boy,” he replied.

  The words fell like rocks in an ocean with each one magnifying in sound. I had never known an immortal being, though I had heard about them in our line of work. They had once been normal human beings, but cursed by unknown powers from above to walk the Earth for eternity.

  “Esmour may have died, but he left his greatest secrets among the living,” Rostland explained.

  Suddenly the door slammed open, and Alaire rushed in, sliding across the floor until he was able to stop himself.

  “Who is this?” Alaire asked, though his glance lowered to the dagger and his brows furrowed.

  “The name is Rostland, and I’d advise you leave the weapon where it is. Your friend tried to kill me, and as you can see he looks a bit pale,” Rostland explained.

  Sighing, I turned to Alaire and said, “Let’s get out of here; I can’t stand the sight of these two.”

  Nicia approached me, tugging on my sleeve. “Forgive me; I swear I did not betray you again.”

  “If you didn’t, you would have no need to ask for forgiveness.”

  I tugged away from her and led the way outside. Alaire followed close behind me, though he walked slower than me. I led him back to Esmour’s house, which upon entering no one would have ever guessed a murder occurred. The blood had been cleaned up, the food placed on the table, and the glass brushed into a corner. All that remained was an empty house with all the belongings of a powerful man.

  “Rostland said that Esmour’s live among us. There is one I haven’t told you about…” I began.

  Alaire held up his hand. “Whatever it is, I rather not know. Today is not about secrets; it’s about the lives we’ve lost. When Esmour died, Destin went down with him.”

  I nodded, lookin
g around the house at the possibilities. There could be secrets hidden within these four walls, but whether Alaire or I could bear the burden of them was another matter. It’s strange how one man can leave his mark in a world that barely knew him at all. His house was a shell, the one he had hidden away in. Now we too were strangers in his home without a clue as to who the man was behind the mask. With the destruction of Destin, it also seemed a chapter in my life was changing forever. I wanted to feel relieved, but all I could remember was Esmour talking about this day when Destin would fall. For once he had been wrong… about everything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Forgive Us All

  After searching through the house, Alaire came across a letter underneath the bed. He handed it to me with a pinched face, and I did not blame him for having no desire to read it. Perhaps I was the best one for the job, since I had read a letter like this before. It instantly took me back to that morning when Papa had died.

  “Papa? I’m home,” I had called upon entering the house. There was silence as I stepped through the kitchen with dirty boots. The dirt tracks followed behind me, but there were also larger footprints leading to my parents’ bedroom. Slowly, I crept toward the room, quietly reassuring myself that it was only Papa and I in the house. Then I opened the bedroom door, and he was lying on the bed.

  “Wake up, Papa,” I said, running to the side of the bed and tapping his arm. Glancing down, I noticed a sword stuck through his skin. All I could remember was Mama’s warnings about playing with swords, and I instantly thought ‘danger.’

  Someone coughed, and I looked across the room to see three hooded figures standing side by side. Their faces were hidden, but the darkness that covered their appearance only made them more mysterious. Again, the word ‘danger’ was ringing in my head. I couldn’t comprehend what had happened, but my instincts reasoned for me to run as fast as my feet would take me.

  “We’ll be back for you someday, young Irvine,” one of the figures said in a masculine voice.

  Then they all disappeared, as well as the sword. I stood still, half tempted to wake up my father and the other half tempted to find help. Instead I remained by my father’s side, hoping that if I shouted loud enough he’d wake up.

  “What does the letter say?” Alaire asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  I shook my head, trying to forget the painful memories of my father. Clearing my throat, I began to read the letter, “‘my boys, I hope this letter reaches you before it is too late. I am not at liberty to clarify details in this brief letter, but rather I would like to reassure you. You will find that no one in this world can be trusted. As a dead man, I beg you to take heed of my warning. Our future is a jaded one; full of power, greed, and ending in a war we cannot afford to lose. Trust your instincts, and when all else fails remember that we are a family. Keep our family together at all costs. It’s been an honor working with you, boys. God forgive us all.”

  For the longest time neither of us said a word, and I doubt there could have been any words to justify what Esmour had left behind. The letter made it seem like he had known he would die.

  “I can't stay here. This city, this house... it's all a reminder of everything we have lost,” Alaire said at last.

  Shuffling my feet, I shrugged. “We cannot leave his house like this. Anyone could walk in and steal valuable information.”

  “Then ask your healer to watch over it. Feel free to stay, but I'm afraid I cannot stay here any longer. One day I might return, but for now all I want is a peace of mind,” he replied harshly.

  “Where will you go?”

  Alaire turned his back on me and glanced out the window to his right. “I'll stay with Roana, the healer I told you about. She has always been a loyal friend, and I can stay with her until I find a true haven.”

  I nodded slowly, realizing that once Alaire left I would be the only Dark magician in Neutadt. There would be no more nights searching for Malin or seeking out Esmour for guidance. This was the end of the rope and the bottom of the ocean for us.

  “You can come with me,” Alaire proposed, glancing back at me for a moment.

  After everything I knew it was only a matter of time before I too would leave the place I called home. The city was our enemy, and one wrong move could cost us our lives. I no longer had friends or family to rely on. Alaire was the one who stood by through the hardships.

  “Thank you, but I think I need answers more than safety. It's probably best if we don't mention each other to anyone unless they are an ally,” I said.

  “We'll find each other again, little brother,” Alaire replied, staring directly at me with a full smile.

  Then without another word he walked out of the house, leaving behind the whispers of an old house. He had called me “little brother,” but it didn't strike me until he stepped outside and walked out of sight. Ever since childhood we had been together, and this would be the first time anything separated us. He was more than a friend to me; he was the man who saved my life every day. I couldn't run after him and admit that, but for a moment I remained motionless and imagined his face lighting up if I did. Alaire was the man who could save people, despite whatever darkness lurked deep inside his heart, and because of that I admired him.

  “Brother...” I whispered, but it was already too late. As silence filled the house again, I cast a spell and the letter in my hand lit up in flames. I threw it to the floor, watching as the sparks ate up the cursive words. No one could see what Esmour had left behind, and I didn't need the letter to remember his words. The fire dissolved as easily as it had appeared, and then I walked out of the house.

  As I traveled home, I decided that I too would leave town and seek out answers. A friend of mine, Mervyn Silvers, lived in Hethulen which was closest to us. Being the innkeeper, he might have heard news from travelers that could be helpful. Either way, I needed an escape for the time being. Perhaps Alaire was right and our minds needed to be cleared. I rushed home, knowing that if I slowed down for the slightest moment the fear would overcome me. Glancing at the locals, I could see it in their eyes now. The way they looked at me was like they knew that I was the “villain” they were plotting to kill. This was only the beginning, and nothing would ever be the same again.

  Part Two

  Change of Fate

  Let the ghost at night terrorize you

  Until he is pleased.

  Let the nightmares of the past bite at you

  Until they are full.

  Let the woman you love fight for you

  Until she wins the war.

  Let the demons below claim you

  Until they take your soul.

  Chapter Seventeen

  All Roads Lead Home

  Agnetlin, 1570

  I could not bear the thought of him being dead. The horse trotted into the city at full speed like he too understood that the matter was urgent. We maneuvered around locals, who barely paid any mind to us. Timing was everything, and the seconds slipping away felt like breaths stolen from his lungs. I spotted the manor right away, seeing as it was larger than anything else in the city. Once we were close enough, I jumped off the horse, nearly falling on my face. Quickly, I gathered myself together and tapped on the door continuously until a maid answered.

  “Leal Irvine... Requesting... Grefin...” I panted.

  The maid nodded, allowing me inside and then gesturing me to follow after her. She rushed down the hallway, seemingly aware of what would be waiting for me in the guest room. Once she stopped, I could see the candlelight reflecting out from underneath a door. Cautiously, the maid opened the door and stepped aside. For the faintest moment I winced and closed my eyes, wishing that this was nothing more than a terrible nightmare. When I opened my eyes again I was faced with the cold, harsh truth. Alaire laid motionless in a bed surrounded by candles and bowls full with herbs.

  “Is he...?” I whispered to the thin woman sitting by his bedside.

  She turned around, revealing painted symbols
covering her face and neck. Frowning, she answered, “He's holding on by a thread.”

  “May I?” I gestured to the bed, and the woman nodded. I advanced toward him, but the man lying in the bed was a stranger to me. Despite the months we spent apart, he was entirely different. His face was deathly pale, and his expression was bittersweet. After all this time I had hoped we would be reunited, but not in this way. Our last moment together shouldn't end at his deathbed.

  “Grefin would be here, but I'm afraid he and Roana left to find a secure hiding for Grefin's daughter. I'm glad you're here for him... He needs someone right now, and lately all he has had is me,” the woman remarked.

  “And whom might you be?” I asked, keeping my attention on Alaire.

  “Daciana, Grefin's healer,” she replied in a soft voice.

  The candles illuminated Alaire's skin, making it seem like he was glowing with life. I sucked on my lower lip, and no matter how badly I wanted to help there was nothing I could do. Instead I waited as if a miracle could happen, and I began pacing around the room anxiously.

  “How did it happen?”

  Daciana watched me with beady eyes and answered, “Something scared his horse, and Alaire fell off. There was a woman with him—Celestria was her name—and if hadn't been for her, he might not be here now.”

  The name rang in my head, reminding me of the redhead woman I had crossed paths with. She was different from the women I knew, and I hadn't forgotten her during the time we had been apart. If I hadn't been stubborn on chasing after a stranger, we might have stayed together. Most of all, though, I remembered her eyes beaming brightly when the sun hit them at a certain angle. There was something about the ferocity in her that made her unforgettable. She was too hot to touch, and it was the fact that she was untouchable that made her that much more real.