Forgotten Embers

by Shauna E. Black

  FOUR

  It would be awkward to encounter Koen and explain why I was leaving so abruptly, so I decided to take the servant’s stairs. They were narrow and steep. I gripped the railing tight enough to turn my knuckles white and slowly moved down each step. Most of the servants must have been occupied with the evening meal; I encountered only a handful of people. Each regarded me with a mixture of surprise and suspicion, but I gave them friendly smiles and tried to act as though I belonged there.

  When I finally made it to the main floor, I found myself in a warren of servant’s quarters that were even more deserted than the stairs had been. The halls were narrow and unadorned. A multitude of cloth-covered doorways at regular intervals concealed the contents of the rooms beyond. Smoky torches in wall sconces gave off occasional circles of light, and everything looked the same. It wasn’t long before I got lost.

  I blamed it on my fatigue, although my mother would have scoffed at such an excuse. I’d done more walking that day than any since I’d taken refuge in Elara’s Sanctuary a year ago. My stump ached, and my arm was sore where I leaned on my crutch for support.

  But I wasn’t so far gone in exhaustion that I didn’t jerk full of adrenaline the moment I heard the errant scuff of a boot heel on stone. I turned to find the hall behind me empty. As I moved through the maze, I grew increasingly aware that someone followed me.

  I came to an intersection. Turning suddenly, I caught a glimpse of fabric swaying gently in a doorway at the end of the hall. I pretended not to notice and turned right as rapidly as I could. Another doorway loomed straight ahead, and two more beckoned on either side of me. Silently, I slipped behind the fabric on my left and into darkness.

  Without putting my crutch down, I braced myself against the wall and moved back, bringing it up like a quarterstaff and falling into a familiar defensive stance I’d had little occasion to use lately.

  I could feel the ridges of the carved runes for protection and healing that my father had carved into the oak of the crutch. He was one of the strongest sorcerers of Ragnell and second only to the High King.

  Soon, I heard the nearly silent whisper of boots moving past my hiding place. They continued on, then stopped and came back.

  My heart pounded, my aches and pains forgotten as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I took a firmer grip on the crutch.

  There was another moment of silence. My predator must have checked the room across the hall. Then, suddenly, the fabric blocking my doorway moved aside, letting in the torchlight from the hall and temporarily blinding me.

  Without hesitation, I swung the crutch hard into the shape that filled the doorway. But instead of the oof of surprise I expected, the crutch was caught and jerked out of my hands. I lost my tenuous balance and crashed to the floor. So much for impressing the enemy with my skill and fearless strength.

  “Need a hand up?” said a familiar voice.

  I peered at the person towering over me and blinked rapidly until my eyes adjusted. My brain struggled to catch up with my senses. A multitude of tiny braids swung around the figure’s head. The top of a broadsword peeked out over one shoulder. The light from behind left her face in shadow, but I’d know that outline, that voice anywhere.

  “Bridei,” I said stupidly.

  As my eyes adjusted further, I saw her smile.

  Intense relief washed over me. To hide my cowardly emotions, I said grumpily, “If I wanted an elephant to follow me, I would have traveled to Afri.” I pushed aside the hand she reached out and struggled to get my good leg untangled.

  Bridei chuckled. “I can see you’re still as stubborn as you ever were.” Bending down against my protests, she swept her arms underneath mine and hauled me unceremoniously to my feet. The white fur poncho she wore stunk like old sweat and leather. I reeled under a flood of memories.

  “Just watch what you’re doing!” I complained, a bit breathless. “You’re wrinkling my robe.”

  She thrust my crutch at me. “Stop your moaning and give your big sister a squeeze!”

  I was suddenly enveloped in a firm bear hug that nearly suffocated me, but I found myself melting in her arms. My fingers clutched her poncho as my body started shaking with sobs.

  “Now, now,” Bridei said awkwardly. “Put yourself back together. I can see that sneaking up on you was a mistake.”

  I took several gulps of air and forced back my emotions. Still, my voice came out choked and thin. “It serves you right.”

  She pulled back, fished around in her poncho, and pulled out an oiling cloth that reminded me of countless hours squatting by a campfire, polishing swords beside her.

  Wiping my streaming face, I swallowed hard and said, “I thought you left the king’s service when I was banished. What are you doing in the delegation?”

  The smile slipped from Bridei’s face. She looked down and shuffled her feet. Shocked, I realized that she was embarrassed. “I ... I’m the king’s champion.”

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t help it, Alswyn. King Talorc practically got down on his knees and begged me—said I was the only one good enough, that I should carry on the family tradition in mother’s place and all that. When Papa started in on me too, I couldn’t say no.” She kept her eyes on the floor.

  An odd mixture of jealousy, outrage, pleasure, and pride swam inside my gut. Mother always said Bridei would make a great champion someday. But Mother wasn’t around to protest when Talorc banished me and Bridei angrily swore never to serve him again. Bridei’s reaction had justified my own wronged feelings. To discover that she’d repented felt like a handful of stinging nettle. But at the same time, I was proud she was good enough for the high king to beg her to come back. I just wished she hadn’t said yes.

  I became aware of a growing murmur of voices outside our room, accompanied by the scuffle of feet and closing of cupboard doors.

  “The servants,” Bridei said. “We’d best be on our way.”

  In an awful rush that sent my stomach plummeting, I remembered my errand to fetch the broken wedding box. “Yes. I have something ... important I need to do.”

  Bridei kept one hand gripped tightly on my arm. “First, you come with me.”

  I glanced down at her hand, my emotions a swirling vortex. “What? Where? Can’t we talk over old times later? I need to—”

  “I have my orders,” Bridei said with a calm finality.

  A stab of fear and panic shot through me. I jerked out of her grip and tried to run, but my wooden leg betrayed me. Bridei grabbed my middle and hoisted me off the ground. She was still stronger. I could beat her at swordplay when we were little, but she always won a wrestling match.

  “I’ve kept King Talorc waiting long enough already,” she said. She ignored the stares of the servants in the hall and my fierce protests. Like a wounded goat, she hoisted me across her shoulders and jogged back the way we’d come.

  FIVE

  Bridei carried me halfway around the city. After the first half hour, I lapsed into silence. It had nothing to do with my voice going hoarse from screaming for Bridei to put me down. I just felt like a shriveled raisin inside, shocked that Bridei would betray me like this. Surely she knew I would rather swallow nails than face King Talorc again. Wasn’t her family a priority anymore? Why was she doing this?

  The answer, of course, was that Bridei was now the king’s champion. But Mother had never hesitated to defy Talorc when she thought he was being a fool. Bridei, on the other hand, seemed to obey orders blindly.

  We reached the isolated northern quarter of Eagle Canyon, where the followers of Ragnell lived. They clustered around Ragnell’s temple like piglets fighting for their sow’s milk. The temple itself was small—not much larger than a simple home. Unlike the rest of the city, it was made completely of wood. Rising tall among all the flat roofs, it was obviously constructed by a different culture. The dormers were wishbone-shaped, the peaks pointed and decorated with delicate carvings hardly noticeable in the moonlight. From the cente
r, a round spire stretched into the sky.

  Bridei hauled me onto the porch and through the front entrance. I caught the scent of fresh water mingling with wood and varnish. The only clear pool of water left in the city was in Ragnell’s temple, a phenomenon that gave credence to the belief that Ragnell was the goddess in charge of the drought. The people of Eagle Canyon had been miraculously converted to her worship by the dozens.

  But at this hour, there was no one filling their buckets at the pool revealed by an opening in the wooden floor on the right. In fact, the building felt deserted and empty—much different from the only time I’d visited before, not long after I arrived in Eagle Canyon. Although Ragnell was the goddess of my childhood, I felt scorned, unforgiven, and abandoned by her. I’d never returned.

  Bridei plopped me down. Her grip on my upper arm steadied me until I got my crutch in place and found my balance.

  “She’s here,” Bridei said to a man sitting across the room. I was gratified to notice that she was winded, skin red with exertion from carrying me.

  A raised dais at the opposite side of the room held a looming wooden statue of Ragnell in her widow’s garb. Her face was hidden by a cowl that almost brushed the ceiling, and her hand gripped her staff. Directly in front of the statue was a chair that hadn’t been there on my last visit. It was big and imposing, the sides like natural tree trunks growing out of the floor. The back rose in a slant high above the head of the man seated in it, its bare branches spiked the air to the throne’s sides. Talorc had probably made the chair for himself with wood magic when he arrived.

  In it sat the man himself. King Talorc wasn’t much different from the last time I’d seen him. He was a big man, his bulk made up mostly of muscle. As he leaned forward intently, he set his multitude of blond braids swinging. His beard was decorated with similar braids tied off in wooden rings. Like Bridei, he wore the bright white fur of a polar bear. I didn’t know how the two of them could stand it in this heat. But my people were a stubborn lot, determined to follow tradition no matter the consequences. The fur was said to give strength and cunning to the wearer—qualities I imagined Talorc needed on this diplomatic mission.

  I tugged my robes and smoothed down my hair. It was hardly fair Bridei brought me before the high king in such an undignified manner. It certainly wasn’t the way I’d imagined meeting him again. Those fantasies had all involved him kneeling at my feet and begging forgiveness for his rash decision. But this was the supreme ruler of the T’yatha, the man who spoke for Ragnell and was trusted with her most powerful magic, the man once destined to be my father-in-law. He did not beg.

  There was an uncomfortable silence in which he scrutinized me like a mount he was buying at auction. Finally, he said, “So. Here you are.”

  I lifted my chin, gave Bridei a glare, and cleared my throat. “Where else should I be?”

  He grunted.

  When he didn’t say anything else, I snapped impatiently, “Tell me what you’re after so I can get on home.”

  “Keep a civil tongue,” Bridei said casually from where she lounged against one of the wooden pillars. She picked at her nails with the tip of a short sword. I knew that stance. It was meant to be intimidating. It didn’t work on me. But her voice reminded me of our mother’s, and I recalled my place with reluctance.

  I gave a short, apologetic nod to Talorc, even though I was still angry at both of them.

  “You’re here,” Talorc said in his deep, rumbling voice with a hint of bitterness, “because I need a favor.”

  A favor? Talorc was asking me for something? It took several moments to wrap my brain around the concept. But his next words drove all thought from my head, leaving me cold and clammy.

  “Someone in the Eagle Castle is working ash magic,” he said.

  I thought about the wedding box I still hadn’t retrieved, broken in pieces at the bottom of the canyon, or maybe by now in the hands of some Quahtl peasant who would fall ill to its power. Surely Talorc was present when Serrin received the box. Had he guessed what was in the paint? It was common knowledge that I had made the wedding box.

  “You seem shocked, as well you should be.” Talorc stood up from his chair and paced back and forth in front of it. “I never thought to see the day the followers of Dera would traipse this far south. They’re usually reluctant to spread themselves too thin.”

  I judged the distance to the door and calculated whether Bridei could reach me before I got out. If Talorc thought I was working ash magic, he’d kill me this time.

  Taking a shaky breath, I croaked, “And how do you know it’s ash magic?”

  He stopped pacing and scrutinized me carefully. I tried very hard to keep my expression bland. He couldn’t know about the box, could he?

  “Among the trinkets in Lady Serrin’s dowry was a vase of prickly ash. It’s been in our family since before the goddess’ war. Today, Lady Serrin declared it missing.”

  I let out my breath in a whoosh. He didn’t suspect the wedding box after all. I was in the clear, at least for now. But there was no telling what conclusions he would draw when Serrin told him her wedding box was also gone. My mind raced.

  From Bridei’s expression, I could tell she knew I was hiding something.

  Talorc continued, “You once claimed that my son used prickly ash for enchantment.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe your son was an ash sorcerer.” I couldn’t stop the acid that tainted my words.

  Talorc turned away, and I wondered if I detected a hint of guilt in the movement. “Of course he wasn’t.” No. Talorc would never admit he’d been wrong. “But you believed it, and you’re rather accustomed to the workings of ash magic. Would anyone but an ash sorcerer have use for such a rare wood?”

  My face grew hot as a mixture of shame and anger built inside me. “Anyone could have stolen it. Maybe a servant thought it was beautiful.”

  “It wasn’t beautiful. I almost refused to bring it, but the Lady Serrin insisted on something crafted by her ancestors. Besides, the Quahtl care little for wood trinkets.” He sneered. “They consider wood to be weak and temporary. Perhaps I’m leaping the glacier with this, but if there is even a hint of an ash sorcerer being here, we must locate him and stop him.”

  “Bridei is very capable of rooting out evil,” I said flippantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Alswyn né Riata!” Talorc bit off my full title as if he were tearing into a hunk of bark. “You will find this ash sorcerer for me and bring him here.”

  The emotions I’d held back rushed forward. I brought my crutch down with a loud crack and took a swinging hop closer to him until we were almost nose to nose. “You are no longer my liege,” I said in a low, venomous voice. “You lost that privilege when you banished me. I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

  Bridei grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I gave her a glare that would have withered a meadow of mountain flowers. “Let me go,” I hissed. “I’m going home.”

  “No. You can’t leave yet.”

  “I told you she wouldn’t cooperate,” Talorc said bitterly. “I would sooner trust Dera herself than this young vixen.”

  “You have no choice.” Bridei pointed at the only boot visible under my robes. “That missing foot makes it certain she can’t work magic. Anyone else could betray you. Anyone!” She stared Talorc down, and it was as if my mother stood there in a familiar battle of wills with her king. Maybe Bridei wasn’t in his thrall as much as I’d assumed. “Even me.”

  Talorc’s mouth worked, making his mustache twitch and quiver. “Alswyn.” He nearly choked on my name. “Your sister is right. We ... need you.”

  I lost all control of my temper. “Now you want my help? I tried to help you once before, old man! You didn’t believe then that I was on your side, so why should you believe it now?”

  Talorc turned a bright red, his face a thundercloud. “You had no proof of your accusations, and you were a known servant of Dera.”

  “I r
emoved her mark so that I could warn you. I lost my leg, but I saved your kingdom, and your miserable life!”

  “You killed my son!” he roared.

  The accusation stung, and tears I couldn’t stop sprang into my eyes. But I was too angry to meekly accept his judgment this time. “Cynet would have killed thousands if I hadn’t stopped him.”

  “It was your word against his.”

  “You were blinded by his charm. If he’d conjured a demon from the Plains of Dera right in front of you, you would have handed him a bouquet of lavender and sent him out to gather eggs.”

  “How dare you speak to me that way!” Talorc clenched and unclenched his fists, as if missing the hilt of a sword he could swing at me.

  Bridei gave my arm a painful twist. “That’s enough.”

  But Talorc wasn’t finished. He spat on the floor in front of me. “I could have executed you for what you did.”

  My anger drained, and I deflated like a becalmed sail. The only thing keeping me upright was Bridei’s grip on my arm. “Maybe you should have.”

  He stared at me for several silent moments, his eyes full of fury. “I was persuaded to let you live. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

  His boot heels echoed on the wood floor as he spun and stormed out of the room through a side door.

  I hung my head and let tears soak the front of my robe. Bridei loosened her grip and threw an arm around my shoulders. I sagged against her as she led me to the exit.

  “I loved Cynet too,” I whispered.

  SIX

  We spoke very little as Bridei helped me back to the southern end of the city. By now it was deep night, and the streets were dark and silent.

  Eagle Castle, location of the Eagle Throne and seat of the Lord of the South, loomed huge and intimidating above us, making a hole in the millions of stars sprinkled across the sky. We moved under a delicate-looking bridge that spanned the gap between the main castle and the edge of the canyon.