The Imdalind Series, Book Six
Rebecca Ethington
THE IMDALIND SERIES
BOOK ONE: Kiss of Fire
BOOK TWO: Eyes of Ember
BOOK THREE: Scorched Treachery
BOOK FOUR: Soul of Flame
BOOK FIVE: Burnt Devotion
BOOK SIX: Dawn of Ash
BOOK SEVEN: Crown of Cinders
Text Copyright ©2015 by Rebecca Ethington
The Imdalind Series, characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks and © of Rebecca Ethington.
The Imdalind Series Publishing rights © Rebecca Ethington
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Market Street Books LLC
No Part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For Information regarding permission, write to:
Rebecca Ethington – permissions@ Rebecca Ethington.com
Copyediting by C&D Editing
Production Management by Market Street Books
Cover Design by Jessica Wilson
Cover Photo by Phoebe Farnsworth
ISBN (ebook): 978-0-9964632-3-2
ISBN (print): 978-0-9964632-5-6
This Edition, February 2016
To Duck
Who showed me sunshine,
Who reminded me how to laugh,
Who is missed.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
About the Author
Acknowledgments
“Ilyan!” Risha’s voice cut through the explosion that shattered the building to my left. The ancient structure answered with a groan that threatened to send the building down on top of us all.
“Move!” Risha, the Skȓítek woman who had led the survivors from Edmund’s raid and now served as my second, screamed again from where she fought alongside the others we were trapped with, even though it was becoming increasingly obvious there was no way we could fight them off alone.
That wouldn’t stop me from trying.
Yells and shouts of fear increased over the already rampant noise of battle, the building heaving as the screams escalated, the attacks right along with it. More dirt, more dust, more debris fell over us, ripples of fear tensing through me at what was about to happen. I shoved it all aside, letting Risha’s yell alert me to the much broader danger—my father’s men who were rushing me, moments from destroying me.
With one flash of magic, I killed the two men before me, their power fading completely as their destruction became nothing more than shadows. Then I dodged the attack at my back, my attacker’s powerful blast flying into the building that groaned loudly in warning.
Shards of brick continued to pour over us like hail, burning sparks of magic singeing my clothes and hair. I expected the building to tip with the impact, the powerful explosion being the final nail. However, it stayed, and the loud Trpaslíks’ laughter rang in my ears as I turned to face them, my jaw a hard line of anger.
With one quick movement, my hand shot out to grab my would-be assassin by the throat. With my hand clenched around the soft, warm flesh of his neck, the pulse of his heart was a torrent of fear, beating in time with the explosions surrounding us. His fear increased alongside the heat of my magic, a sharp flare of warning moving into him.
“How did you get in?” I growled, watching the man’s eyes for any sign that he might answer, but he only stared at me, his eyes bulging, red, and wild as I continued to hold him in place. “Tell me, and all this ends.”
He gasped for breath, but I already knew it was not in an attempt to answer, not with the way he smiled, the way he tried to posture to me, the threat obvious in his expression, even if the fear in his eyes didn’t make it believable.
A streak of red light erupted right above my head, and I turned. Keeping the Trpaslík debilitated under my palm, I fired toward the battle we had inadvertently walked into, expecting to hit whoever had tried to assault me. Instead, I was faced with a cavalcade of my father’s men as they emerged between the destroyed buildings that surrounded us, the skies full of his Vilỳs.
My anger increased at the knowledge that one wrong turn had led us there, into the dead end with alleys and streets feeding into it like some sort of river basin. How was I to know they had built a new shopping mall last year? The street had always gone straight through. Modern invention continued to baffle me.
With one flare of power, I sent an attack into yet another of the Trpaslíks with my free hand, the other still holding the little man, his smile fading to nothing as one of his comrades collapsed to the ground lifelessly.
“I don’t like killing innocents,” I growled as I turned back to my captive, fully aware the anger in my voice would make that phrase unbelievable. “Tell me where Edmund is, and I can protect you.”
The man’s smug smile faded as fear clouded his eyes, his focus intent as he weighed his options. My chest tensed in fervent possibility, hoping perhaps this one would tell me. Perhaps this one would crack.
Just as he opened his mouth, though, an explosion erupted at our feet, rubble flying through the air around us. Instead of speaking, he then laughed.
“I obey only my master who saved me, who taught me what it is to be truly strong.” His voice echoed around us, loud and disjointed. “We will defeat you all!”
The man screamed his last words before I let my magic flow through him, into him, ending his life with one flash of power against his heart. Quick and painless.
It was the humane way. They weren’t all Trpaslíks, after all. Many of them, like the one I had killed, were Chosen—innocents my father had poisoned with his tainted Vilỳs, trained, and abused, just to send into the city we were trapped in with the sole purpose of attacking us, destroying us.
It wasn’t their fault.
Stepping over the body, I rushed back into the battle, killing man after man as the tension in my body grew into a dangerous rage. I always had trouble controlling my temper, especially without Joclyn. Normally, I had her magic to comfort me, but she was asleep. Her Drak magic had pulled her under as it did every so often. As a result, I was walking a dangerous line.
With an explosion of sound and an eruption of power, a single stream of red light exploded from my hand, flying right into one of the many abandoned vehicles rotting in the dark, forgotten city. The broken thing flew through the air, right into the narrow opening of an alley to our left, hindering the advance of about thirty more attackers.
“Risha,” I yelled as I raced toward her, heart pounding as I blocked another attack, sending one right back toward the source and into the heart of a man who fell to the ground.
“Help! Ilyan!” a voice came, one of my Chosen calling out in fear of the hissing creatures surrounding him.
With one quick slide of my hands through the stale air, another beam of light flew from my palm, and the two Vilỳs turned to ash and smoke as the earth reclaimed th
em.
“Risha!” I said again as I walked right to her side.
The tall Skȓítek woman didn’t so much as look away from the fight. She simply turned, sending our enemy away as she protected the young Chosen woman who sat huddled behind her, crying as she bled profusely from her chest. She wasn’t the only one huddled behind the warrior, but I was sure the elderly man she was leaning up against was already gone judging by the glossy look in his eyes.
“Focus your magic on stopping the bleeding,” I yelled at her as another explosion sent my former blockade into us. My magic caught it moments before it landed on top of us.
With a burst of energy, I sent it to the left, speeding toward two of Edmund’s men and pinning them between brick and twisted metal.
“I’m never leaving the cathedral again,” Risha growled from somewhere behind me as yet another stream of light moved past me, my magic alerting me to the danger late enough that I watched the bright red blade cut through my hair, long lengths of gold falling to the ground.
For a moment, my heart stopped, scared the délka vedení královsk had been lost, but the long length of ribbon was still wrapped around my wrist, kept safe in the only way I knew how in these situations.
“You said that last week, Risha,” I growled as I destroyed another man, the older gentleman crumpling to the ground like improperly made origami.
“This time, I mean it.”
I clenched my teeth at her determination, jaw tightening as my shoulders did, my temper continued to rise dangerously.
Another man collapsed at my hand, my magic scurrying in a mad attempt to keep us ahead of the fray, only to freeze as the entirety of the narrow street lit up in a bright yellow blaze. Heat moved over us as the luminescence shone over every lifeless body, every smear of blood, revealing the destruction that Prague had become in ribbons of light that made the dilapidated city all the more frightening.
The light washed over us, waves of iron following behind, wrapping around me with the force of a weapon. It was a weapon that, if I didn’t fight, would destroy us all, friend and foe.
Grimacing at the effort, I broke free of the attack, glittering trails of crimson streaking away from me and toward every one of my people. My scream of exertion ricocheted around us as my magic broke through the attack, ripping the bands from their bodies, releasing them from the deathly bind.
Heaving, I fell to the ground alongside Edmund’s men, my body weak from the exertion, while Edmund’s deformed army lay, gasping dying breaths, their own attack taking their lives in a slow, painful end.
I would rejoice in the luck of such a ploy, but I wasn’t a fool.
I could already hear the wings.
The light would bring more Vilỳs to us, and with no quick escape route, our only chance was to go up right as Vilỳs were coming down.
Heart pounding violently, I jumped up, muscles shaking with exertion that I had to ignore. “Risha, I need you to take them up. Fly to the Young Prince, keep your head down, and move on to the Old Man. Use the river as a guide to mask the magic. Meet me on the high point. They are coming.” I didn’t need to say anything more. Risha was already nodding in understanding, not a moment passing before she shot ropes of green from her fingers, each powerful strand of magic attaching to one of the Skȓíteks, one of the survivors who had traveled with us.
The poor, undertrained Chosen screamed in fear as the power moved into them, connecting them to her in a tether they could not break. Risha’s grating yell of exertion followed her into the air, her powerful magic forcing a wind to swirl and move as it swept her and her charges up and up, away from the battle. Away from the danger this city always provided. Away from me and what I was about to do.
I couldn’t wait to verify their ascent.
Standing, I leered at my father’s men who continued to move through the alleys, right to the lone man standing amidst destruction and death. I could see their anger, see their intent. And so, I let mine free. I let the temper, the anger, the magic free.
Free from the carefully crafted cage I always kept it locked in.
It moved into the monsters that surrounded me, attack after attack felling man, woman, and tiny, winged beasts. Everything was illuminated as I stood, surrounded by death. My heart was racing, muscles tensing, when out of nowhere, a scream I recognized broke through the death, broke through the light, broke through the battle I was trapped in.
Joclyn.
She was screaming. I could feel her fear, hear her cries as she lay miles from me, trapped in one of the many nightmares her sight had plagued her with for the past few months. Our connection opened up within me as I fought. My magic swelled, her fear ripping through me in agony, in an emotional prison that, even if I hadn’t been preoccupied, I couldn’t have saved her from.
Listening to her scream as I continued to fight, my chest constricted painfully, but I kept up the attacks, her magic continuing to move into me, strengthening me, filling me, controlling me in dangerous waves of frightening ability.
Joclyn’s magic supercharged my own past what I was capable of, the darkness and terror of her sight pulling my magic into a deadly concoction that felled one after another, many of them turning to nothing more than smoke and faded memories.
Teeth clenched, chest heaving, I continued to fight, focusing on Joclyn’s magic, on her fear, knowing what I needed to do. It was the only way I could calm her.
“Joclyn!” I yelled aloud, letting my magic smother her as Edmund’s men kept coming, flowing through the streets, flooding the space that was growing smaller.
I smiled as my power grew within me like a warm water bottle of determination.
I was out of time.
With one powerful stream of magic, I turned, red and yellow light flying right into the broken foundation of the building that was threatening to collapse and, without warning, sending it to the ground.
Right on top of me.
Joclyn’s magic erupted as mine did, the two joining together in a powerful force that encompassed me in a barrier so strong that, as I stood still, I could watch tons of ancient architecture crumbling around me.
The dust settled as I remained untouched, standing in an upturned fish bowl, witnessing the fall of something that had once been beautiful.
My heart rate increased as Joclyn’s did, as images of her sight flashed before me, a battle eerily similar to the one I had ended replaying right before my very eyes.
“Wake up, můj navždy,” I said, my voice echoing through the shield as I surveyed the damage, making one last sweep for any life that might choose to follow me before taking off into the sky, the shielded globe ascending around me, dust falling away from my movement like the tail of a kite.
“Wake up!” I spoke aloud to my mate as the blood of her sight flowed over her, her heart rate so fast within me I was sure some monster was trying to break free from the inside of my chest as well as hers.
With a graceful step, I landed on the rooftop of the highest point—the tall, lookout building I had told Risha to meet me at. My tension was still high with fear of the possibility that she and the others might not have made it as the shield fell away with the faintest pop, the solitary sound loud in the silence after the battle I had escaped.
There was only the faint red of the world, only the hot breeze that moved through my hair as I stood, heart pounding, on the high rooftop, looking over the city I was raised in, the city I was now trapped in. The city that had quickly become a prison.
Wake up, mi lasko! I tried again, this time sending the call right into her mind, and I was grateful when her heart rate slowed, the heavy influx of her magic regulating.
I could still feel her fear, still feel her panic, but it was mixed with reality now, the uncertainty and anxiety of nightmares leaving. Still, she was silent, and even through the temporary calm, my heart rate picked up.
“Mi lasko?” I breathed, sending the words right into her mind as the fright left. “Are you all right?”
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Ilyan, she finally replied, her voice a calm wave.
With one word, my heart relaxed, my soul calmed, and although I had escaped the literal destruction of yet another part of this beautiful city…
It was still home.
She made it that way.
I could hear him crying, the boy’s soft whimpers ringing through the cave in a mournful sound that tensed through me. The distorted sobs were so mangled I wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. It was just the broken echo of pain and sadness, the feral growl of some beast following behind. The sounds rippled across the space in a pressure that was hard to breathe through, my heart tensing in expectation of what I was walking toward, of what was ahead.
Peering through the black and blue striation of light, I tried to find him, tried to see. But the deep blue of the moon cast confusing shadows over the rocks of the cave.
Everything shook as the child cried again, as though the sound of his cries would bring everything crumbling down. Dust fell like snow, covering me, smothering me, surrounding me until it was all I could see, the vision shifting, buzzing in my ears like television static that pulled me out of the reality I thought I was trapped in.
No, not a reality, only the distorted future that drifted in and out of focus before landing in the deep red glow of my sight, my vision shifting with a jolt to the same derelict, red-tinged streets of Prague that I walked every day, that I surveyed every day, that I fought in just as often.
That I fought in now.
A herd of running feet and heaving breaths surrounded me as the sight became clear. The crash of an attack resounded somewhere before us, and despite a part of me wanting to run the other way, I still continued forward, my prescience guiding me through a tight alley and right into the fray of battle where Ilyan and Risha were surrounded by men, Ilyan holding one by the neck as he fought more than a dozen others.
I fought, grunting, as I joined them. Magic exploded, exactly as it did every time Edmund’s men attacked in the city, whether in premonition or in life. This time, however, it was broken by the same electronic noise that had haunted my sight for months. Everything cutting in and out until it stopped.
Dawn of Ash Page 1