Shadows and Embers

by Lindsey Richardson

  Pointing over to Alaire, he commented, “That's the first time I've seen him sleep since he arrived. They're close, aren't they?”

  “Closer than you and I will ever know,” I replied, sighing. There was nothing to distract me from returning to the events that occurred in the study other than listening to Alaire snore. Though I was interested to know Celestria's current state in recovery, I kept such concerns in my head. My healer had done everything I had asked for, and it would do no harm to allow him to rest. Even Celestria's guardian, who by now was probably impressing everyone in the house, needed sleep. I, on the other hand, could not imagine what horrors may haunt me if I let my mind wonder. Instead I felt inside of my vest pockets and pulled out two items. One, the diamond that Grefin had insisted meant Dyanna was alive. The other was perhaps more dangerous because if placed in the wrong hands it could destroy us. It was one of the letters I had written to Celestria that hadn't been tossed onto the floor. By now Gavril was sound asleep, and with that I unfolded the paper and read its contents.

  Celestria,

  I regret to inform you that at the end of these days, at the end of war and magic, we may not be the heroes. The humans are not a forgiving species. They have grown and adapted over the years, but they will always fall back under leadership.

  Should this paper ever be placed in your care, I strongly advise you to burn it. The truth of the matter is... as much as it breaks my heart to tell you, we may never have a happy ending. There are acts that I have committed that you may never forgive me for, and I in return shall not judge you from that decision. No matter what happens to me or Alaire, I promise someone's always watching out for you.

  I've killed more men than I care to admit. I would gladly die for you and face the punishment for eternity than see you taken from this world.

  Remember... I'll be watching out for you.

  Folding up the letter and returning it to its hiding place, I slowly allowed my eyelids to drop. Before I slipped into the unconscious someone called out my name. Alarmed, I jumped up and realized it was one of the maids.

  “A woman is waiting outside to see you, sir. She... erm, mentioned the precious master of this house,” she said quietly.

  “At this hour? Who is it?” I asked, though I couldn't think of anyone who would mention my father to gain an audience with me.

  Shaking her head, she responded, “I've never seen her before, but she insisted that it was urgent and she would wait outside. Shall I send her away, sir?”

  Adjusting my vest, I said, “I can manage, thank you.”

  I tried to conceal my anxiety and excitement as I left and descended downstairs. There were few enemies that had lived to tell stories of my father and even fewer allies that spoke openly about him. If there was even the slightest chance that someone from my father's past could help us, I wouldn't risk losing the opportunity. Could the fifth Dark magician be standing at my doorstep? The thought pounded against my skull all the way until I was standing outside in the cold and bitter darkness.

  “Come into the shadows,” a woman's voice called from nearby.

  “Only a fool would fall for such trickery,” I countered, debating if I should run inside to find a candle. I couldn't use my magic out in the streets during the middle of the night.

  Cackling, she said, “Ah, so you are Ewan's boy? Come closer; I must see for myself what has become of you.”

  Her voice was loud and squeaky like glass scratching across a mirror.

  “I won't stand in the dark at your mercy. Face me and explain your business here,” I said. Judging from her voice, she sounded too young to be an ally of my father's. Regardless, she knew his name and where we lived and thus served a purpose that had yet to be determined.

  Her heels shuffled in the dirt and within moments became visible in the moonlight. The remainder of her figure was concealed in the shadows, but I could see the faint outline of her body enough that if she struck I had an attack plan.

  “Stories don't do you justice... you are more handsome than the rumors claim.” she purred, seemingly satisfied with her findings. Then in a more serious tone she said, “My name is Nathalie, and I've come as neither a friend nor foe. Should you heed my advice, you'll never have to see me again. On the other hand, if you choose to continue on as you are... there's no telling what could happen.”

  I clutched the hilt of my dagger that lay in its sword carrier.

  She began clapping and then whispered, “Good, kill me so your friends can see you for who you really are. I wanted to help you, but if you insist...”

  Irritated, I released my grip and growled, “Get on with it already.”

  There was silence for an instant, and then she let out a sigh.

  “You are not safe here, but you already knew that, correct?” she continued when I offered no response. “Humans, powerless magicians, and dead bodies hidden away from the naked eye... Oh, I've been watching your town long enough to know that one wrong word or one too many battle scars could cost you everything. I will tell you this once, son of Ewan... Leave while you can, and have the ill beauty undergo Kinhlr before it's too late.”

  My grip returned to my dagger on instinct. The way she talked about our hometown suggested that she had been watching from afar for years. She knew about Celestria and Nicia, and it sounded like she had enough facts that if she wanted to reveal our identities she could. Did she deserve to die because of the knowledge she possessed? She hadn't directly threatened me, and as far as I knew she was unarmed. It would be murder if I ended her life.

  Calmly, I said, “You need to leave now and never return because next time I see you I cannot spare your life.”

  Her heels turned and she started to walk away. I headed the opposite direction, seeking the comfort of my home. I didn't care if what I had done made me less of a man. There were people in my home that I had to protect, and I couldn't return to them after everything they had witnessed to admit to killing a seemingly innocent woman. My hand grasped onto the doorknob, but I hesitated when I heard someone moving behind me.

  “I heard they're burying a powerful man tomorrow. A man who was a legend and a hero, or so they say. Can you imagine... Aldemund, a hero?” Nathalie chuckled, but when I turned around she already gone. Gone... but all I could hear was my own breath.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Battle of Your Life

  The following morning I searched outside for any sign of Nathalie, but as I had suspected there were no traces. The maids had been left with clear instructions to send Alaire outside once he was awake. I hadn't slept after my meeting with Nathalie. Her words were scattered throughout my thoughts, painfully reminding me that she knew as well as I that Neutadt was no haven. Esmour had said that before Destin he spent his days running from enemies until he settled in our town, but now I understood that he had never stopped running. There was something about this town that made it different and special. At the core there was something dark enough to keep other magicians away. We couldn't afford to leave if it meant never knowing.

  Suddenly there was pain that shot up my ear, releasing as quickly as it had begun. Swirling around, I noticed Alaire.

  “Was that necessary?” I grumbled, rubbing the sore part of my ear.

  “I've never seen you fascinated by nature. Are you ill?” he asked with a hint of concern.

  Rubbing my forehead, I replied, “A woman visited me last night—”

  “Leal, this is hardly the time to discuss a story like that,” Alaire interjected, glaring at me as if I had offended him.

  “Let me finish,” I insisted. Then more calmly, I continued. “Her name was Nathalie, and she knew information that certain people would kill for... Our whereabouts, Nicia, Celestria's injuries, and a lot more.”

  His eyebrows narrowed down. “Did you handle it? Don't tell me that you allowed her to walk away with that knowledge.”

  I cringed, hesitating before I confessed. I had hoped Alaire would understand, considering the innoc
ent lives he had taken as “Hunter.”

  “She didn't harm me. She simply warned me that this place is not safe... and mentioned Aldemund's funeral is being held today,” I said, holding my breath as I awaited his response.

  Without warning, he grabbed my vest. The fury in his face suggested that he was enraged enough to harm me. Then gently he released his grip and the muscles in his face eased.

  “I'm sorry; I don't know what overcame me. Celestria is my responsibility, and if any further harm came upon her I could never forgive myself. This place, no matter how corrupted, is the only home we have,” he said with his eyes on the ground.

  I smiled, wondering if he knew how ridiculous he sounded for only caring about Celestria's well-being. He hadn't bluffed about falling more in love with her each day.

  “You have done everything for her, but do not be so quick to do anything for her sake. This is my home, and I will protect both of you to the best that I can. If anyone threatens to harm us, we will defend our land,” I replied.

  Alaire nodded, but he looked away from me and seemed to have his attention somewhere else. I opened my mouth, but then he pointed and asked, “Isn't that Nicia's house? Is it normal for her to keep the door wide open?”

  Following his finger, I focused my vision on the house. Just as he said the door was hanging wide open. I refused to think for the slightest minute and started running toward it with Alaire closely behind. Fortunately the sun had only begun to rise, thus it would be a few hours before locals flooded the streets. The entire way there I reassured myself that this was not the beginning of Nathalie's warnings. As soon as I reached the door I didn't wait for Alaire to catch up. I sprinted inside, coming to a complete halt when all I saw was Rostland sitting in the middle of the room.

  “Where is she?” I asked, attempting to refrain from yelling.

  “Would you believe me if I told you that she left to gather firewood? I should have closed the door, but I was in the middle of meditating,” he responded with a smile.

  Alaire stepped in, and Rostland's face lit up.

  “Who is this?” he jumped up and shook Alaire's hand.

  “Alaire Sencler. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but...”

  Rostland withdrew his hand and responded more seriously. “The pity of it is that you spend all of your time questioning me when I've done nothing wrong.”

  Ignoring him, I searched Nicia's bed sheets. I had no idea what I was looking for, but more than anything I wanted there to be a reason for Rostland to leave.

  “I suppose you've heard about Aldemund's funeral, eh?” Rostland called out. I stopped my search and walked back to where he was as he added, “If you wanted me to take you, all you had to do was ask.”

  Alaire folded his arms. “Why would we need you?”

  He snorted. “Aldemund was killed at the hands of a Dark magician. His funeral is strictly for White magicians, which is exactly why you need me if you want access.”

  Taking another step forward, I said, “I killed Aldemund, and I certainly have no interest in mourning his death.”

  At that the door slammed shut and a handful of wood fell to the floor. Nicia stared at me with the most horrified expression. It was as painful as that night in the forest when she had “killed” me during training. I held out my arms and tried to approach her, but she quickly retreated to standing behind Alaire. Even Rostland shared a puzzling look with me.

  With her eyes on me, she said, “Rostland, I want you to take him to the funeral. Let him hear the truth before any more blood is spilled.”

  “Nicia?”

  She laughed lightly, though she clung onto Alaire's arm for support. “Don't you dare try to fix it with your sweet voice and those big, blue, bittersweet eyes. Leave; get out.”

  Rostland approached me, grabbed my arm, and lead me to the door without any objection. I kept my head turned, facing Nicia until I was dragged outside and the door shut behind us. It would be pointless to argue with her, but I couldn't forget the way she had looked at me like I was worse than Aldemund. Once we were a few steps away from the house Rostland released me and informed me of the details of the funeral. The service was being held outside of Neutadt in a town called Budendorff, which I would later find out was where Aldemund and Celestria had their first encounter. He asked if I'd prefer to travel on horse, and thus I suggested we take one from my stable. As we walked in silence I observed Rostland, noticing how young he looked. He was well shaven with broad muscles and a tan complexion women would surely adore. At first glance I would have guessed him to be in his late thirties, but the way he spoke suggested he had knowledge well past his years. Nonetheless, I did not trust this man to be as innocent as he would like to seem.

  After we retrieved the horse Rostland and I continued on our journey. I allowed him to steer the horse, seeing as he knew were we were going. When I asked why he would be allowed into the service he assured me that he could be very convincing.

  “Aldemund knew of me, though he only ever gathered that I am a dangerous man to reckon with,” he explained.

  “And are you... dangerous?” I asked. Glancing back, I watched the welcome sign to Neutadt disappear in the dust trail behind us.

  Rostland snickered. “An immortal man has nothing to lose. He has watched loved ones die and the young grow old over centuries. Anyone who has cheated death should be feared.”

  The horse's speed quickened, but we would be making decent time. The funeral, as Rostland had described to me, would most likely have a large outcome. The White magicians had characterized Aldemund as a “hero” over the years. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone had changed their mind after seeing what he did to Celestria. There wasn't much time left to ponder on such thoughts once the horse came to a halt and I realized that we had arrived. Everyone was wearing black, and upon observing my own attire, I regretted wearing blue. Rostland took off his black jacket and handed it to me, advising I button it up to hide my bright clothes. The remainder of his attire was already black.

  Once I put on the jacket I followed after Rostland. There was a white haired man standing at the front of the cemetery, allowing people in. There were only a few ahead of us, and it seemed that the service would begin within minutes.

  “Follow my lead and keep your mouth shut,” Rostland whispered in my ear.

  The closer we approached the more concerned I became. All of these magicians had probably been in Belsgar, and all it would take was one person to recognize me and our cover would be blown. They might leave Rostland alone, but they certainly wouldn't wait for an explanation from me. We reached the man, and a huge smile spread across Rostland's face.

  “Ah, Wilhem, is it really you? You remember me, don't you? Rostland; I was there when your wife—”

  The man held up his hand and shuddered. “I would prefer that we not speak about the events of that night.”

  “Let an old friend pass?” Rostland asked, though he sounded fully convinced that he would be allowed. Tugging me forward, he said, “This is my nephew. He's merely paying his respects; you won't notice us at all.”

  Hesitantly, Wilhem agreed and gestured for us to enter. However, as I passed him he grabbed my elbow and looked me over. “Don't I know you from somewhere?”

  I panicked, and when I didn't hear Rostland saying anything I feared I was trapped. Someone pulled me away, and then at last Rostland spoke up.

  “Don't lay a hand on him. I never treated your boy like that, did I?” he snarled, pushing me ahead of him. There were no further objections, and with that we joined the crowd at the burial site.

  Leaning over to Rostland, I whispered, “Are you friends with that man?”

  “When you're as old as me you learn that the only way to gain people's trust is to know their darkest secrets,” he replied.

  We stood in the back of the crowd that surrounded the freshly dug hole. The coffin hadn't been placed inside yet nor had the priest begun speaking. I watched the faces of different magicians, no
ting how some frowned while others kept their heads lowered. Perhaps they mourned for a stranger, a man they had been told was heroic and brilliant. None of them had seen him attempting to drown an innocent girl. Not even in Belsgar had anyone fully witnessed Aldemund's fury because it had been too dark and they had been too distant to see firsthand who this “hero” was. Why couldn't Esmour have had a service like this? Why did the White magicians have the right to bury their loved ones properly while we burned and hid the bodies of ours? With Esmour in mind, I scanned the crowd for Jacquette. Unfortunately most of the women wore similar attire and it seemed impossible to tell one apart from another. Only one woman stood out at the front of the group, standing closer to the coffin with a young boy by her side. A black veil covered her face, but she began to sob and the noise echoed in the graveyard. The boy, however, stared expressionlessly at the coffin.

  Nudging Rostland, I asked, “Who is that woman crying?”

  “Sabelle, Aldemund's wife. The boy is his son...” he murmured.

  I bit down on my tongue, wincing from the sharp pain. It was wrong in every sense for me to be here when I had killed that little boy's father. He probably hadn't the slightest clue who any of these people were, and that among them was his father's killer. Sabelle gripped tightly onto his hand as my mother had at Papa's funeral. I had to tell Rostland to take us home, to take us anywhere but here. Each time I opened my mouth to say something the words were caught in my throat, pushing at the sides of my neck. It was already too late; the priest cleared his throat and gathered everyone's attention.

  “Before I begin Christopher would like to say a few parting words,” the priest said.

  An opening formed to let someone through, and I held my breath. Could it be...? He had died; the battle ended and he had laid as dead as a rock in the water.

  “Today we say farewell to the finest man I've ever known,” he started, and the voice was enough confirmation that this was indeed Christopher. The man who was supposed to have died in Belsgar stood by Aldemund's grave.