Dawn of Ash

by Rebecca Ethington

  “The first.” My heart raced as the bed shifted again, my muscles tight as he leaned over me, his arm and hand locking me in place.

  “Oh, I am more than the first. I am the first, the last, and the only, something you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  I froze, focusing on where his hand leaned against my side, my eyes wide as I searched in vain for some shadow, some sign of what he was doing. There was only darkness. There was only silence. I couldn’t even hear his breathing.

  “But I don’t think that was really what you were asking, was it?” he asked.

  I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything as I lay underneath this stranger. His magic pulsed against me in that familiar need I had felt so many times before, the fingerprint of his power so different I didn’t recognize it, despite knowing it was him.

  “You wanted to know who I am.” He was closer still, his warm exhale moved over me, fluttering through the loose strands of my hair, tickling my neck so perfectly I shivered, something he enjoyed judging by the laugh, the soft, airy chuckle that moved over my skin. “You want to know who you saw in the cathedral … in Imdalind. You know I am up to something, and you want to what it is. You want to be close to this power.”

  “Yes.” The word was more of a sob as he pressed himself against me, his chest lying on top of my back as the weight smothered me in an agonizing heaviness that awakened every pain he had so recently taken away.

  “You must want to know very badly,” he mused, moving his free hand to push the loose hair out of my face, his touch gentle.

  I tried to wiggle, tried to move so I could see him, but it was no use. I was trapped underneath him, forced to stare at the shadows before me.

  “Your father was right there, after all. Two words and you could have told him, told him everything…”

  My heart beat faster at the realization, something I was certain he noticed with how closely he was plastered against me, his body pressed against my bare back so close I could feel his warmth.

  “But you didn’t. You know I am right. Pet. Servant. Slave. He cares for nothing, just as I intended. Look at what he has done to you. He has done it before, you know.”

  “What are you—”

  “Your father removed your spine.”

  I froze as Sain cut off my confusion, the question I had been about to ask lost in the shock of the words he had spoken, the painful reality shifting over me.

  Shaking in fear as he lay over me, I recoiled from the sudden direction the conversation had taken, with the menacing warning his voice had adopted.

  “I watched him rip it from your body, squeezing the bones as the Black Water dripped from it, burning you … here,” he informed as his hand pressed into my upper thigh with an agonizing burn. My body cringed in pain at the heat, at the way the fire shot through my blood. “And here.” He pressed again, this time on my back, and this time, I screamed, the sound loud and abrupt as fire shot from the welt and into my body, hot and aggressive, like a jolt of electricity. I couldn’t stop the scream if I tried.

  Sain clamped his hand over my mouth with an abrupt desperation, his fingertips digging into my face as he hissed in my ear, “Shut up!” The scream stopped in an instant, even though the pain continued to intensify. “You are not healed enough for them to come yet.”

  He froze over me as the scream dwindled to nothing, the sound of footsteps a hollow beat in the hall beyond the door, stopping right outside of it. I could hear the guard breathing, could feel his impatience seep through the door, impregnating the already tense space with more disgusting emotions.

  Frozen, we waited, my mind counting the seconds, anticipating for the man to turn away, to leave Sain and me alone in the darkened room.

  This room was as much a prison as the dungeons below, I realized. It didn’t matter where Edmund put us; we were still trapped, and I was still incapacitated. My fate, I realized with a jolt, was entirely in Sain’s hands.

  Slowly, Sain’s grip against my mouth lessened as the guard moved away.

  “What do you want from me?” I huffed the moment I knew it was safe, my voice pained and broken as I forced it out.

  “I need your help.”

  I froze. He could have said he wished me to be his bride, and I would have been less shocked by the response.

  “How can you need my help? You have all the power you need. You’ve been playing us all along.”

  His weight finally left me as he jumped over my back, the movement light as the man I had perceived as broken and worthless moved into my line of sight, his face hard and stern, even while his eyes shone brightly. I cringed.

  “Not just you, gorgeous.” His magic flared as the massive chair slid across the floor without so much as a sound, his weight falling into it as it glided underneath him. “I’ve been playing everyone. I’m sure you’ve noticed. You’re smart. I know you have. That’s why you didn’t turn me in. You like it. You like me.” As he sat back in the chair, the deep blue ribbons of light and shadow moved over him, casting him in haunting shadows. “I let you see me.”

  I stared at him, uncertain of what to say, uncertain of what he wanted. I could feel the heavy pull of fear, the heavy desire I had been trying in vain to control flaring up.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped, my desperation for answers taking over.

  “Orchestrating,” he said, his voice calm as he leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes deepening, pulling me into them. “It’s like I told your father before … It’s like a perfectly planned game of chess … Oh! What did I say again?” He closed his eyes softly, his face calm and serene for the briefest moment before it melted into a blank slate, his eyes open with the encompassing blackness I had seen so many times before. “Two men stand; one will fall. Blood will drip. The game is played, and those with the most pawns will take the stage. Take your man and play the game, but be careful where your trust is laid.” His eyes faded back to green as the words seeped into the darkness surrounding us.

  The memory of that moment dug into me, frightening me.

  “Hmm,” he mused, more to himself than to me. “It seems that sight has changed. I guess we must play to match.” He looked off into the dark for a moment before his focus snapped right back to me, the sight repeating on his lips in a low hiss I could barely make out.

  “Be careful where your trust is laid, Ovailia,” he whispered, the chair flying back into place as he stood, hovering over me like an oppressive bat. “I need your help. Will you help me?”

  My eyes were hard as I looked into the man who, I realized, had more faces than my father. No, he had more pawns in the game. He was more than the king my father perceived himself as. He was the queen, and the game was in his hands, just as his sight had said.

  “How can I trust you?”

  I had expected the question to startle him, but he smiled. The wide grin stretched his face awkwardly as he leaned away from me, his face half in shadow as he pulled that same long pen I had had seen him hold earlier from his pocket, twisting it in front of me. The deep red of the surface caught what little light was in the room, glinting purple. A Soul’s Blade.

  “I pulled this from you when I was stitching your spine back together. It wasn’t all in one piece like this. I had to find them all—all the little splinters he had spread through your body: some against your ribs, some fusing your spine together to keep the Black Water in place, one right through your heart. I pulled them out, one by one, and put them back together—”

  “Why do you have that?” Fear gripped me as I stared at the vile thing my father had used against me time and time again. The weapon that, hours before, I had seen Edmund easily control Wynifred with. After what had happened, after what Sain had said, that simple magic was dangerous. It shouldn’t be here.

  “Don’t worry.” He folded the shard of Soul’s Blade in his hand like a switchblade, his voice dripping with irritation, obviously understanding the panic on my face. “He can’t control me. My magic is
too strong for him to even try. I need the blade just as I need you.”

  I jerked away, not from the proximity, not from the fear of what he was saying, but from the actual meaning of what he had just said.

  I could already feel his magic press against me. I could feel the warmth of it wrap around me like a blanket, smothering me, soothing me.

  “I want you,” he soothed, the tempo of his voice changing with those few words, the melody calming, like a song. “Can you trust me?” His voice wrapped around me, his hand continuing to trail up and down my bare back in a calm rhythm, his magic moving into me, swirling around my own. Playing with it. I could feel it try to connect with mine. I wanted it to.

  “Yes.”

  “I trust you, Ovi. I want you,” he whispered as he leaned down to me, his lips soft against the hollow of my ear, his voice soft as he whispered to me.

  I shivered as his magic surged before pulling back. His touch, his soothing rhythm abandoned me, leaving me wanting.

  “I want you, Sain,” I gasped, part of me hungry for his touch, part of me confused as to what I was even saying. “I want to help you.”

  “Good, because now I need you to scream.”

  Instantly, the calm I had felt left. The gentleness of his voice was gone, and the beauty of his eyes had faded back to the dark warning I had seen before, back to the greed and power I now knew was truly him.

  “No!” I gasped in desperation, my heart rate accelerating with the pain I already knew was coming.

  “Sorry, Ovi, but it’s for the greater good. I promise it will be worth it.”

  I had barely heard the words when his hand pressed against my back, pressed against the base of my spine that was still trying to fuse itself back together. His grip was rough as he dug into me, as he snapped the fragile bones in two.

  The scream erupted from me in a violent ripple, echoing in my head as the pain engulfed me. One vertebrae after another snapped as his hand moved up my back. The scream escalated until a shout reverberated down the hall, the deep anger of my father’s voice mixed with them.

  “I trust you, Ovailia. Don’t let me down,” Sain whispered as he moved away, leaving me writhing in agony as he went back to the chair, curling himself in a ball, his eyes fading to black as he cried and muttered to himself.

  I watched the change through my pain, my screams subsiding as the door smashed open, a beam of bright light painting the room yellow as my father, Míra, and at least five other guards streamed into the space.

  “Shut her up!” my father screamed.

  Míra jumped into action as she vaulted onto the bed, straddling me as her tiny hands clamped over my mouth, pulling my head back roughly in a move obviously meant to strangle me.

  I gasped for air, the scream ending as the girl’s magic moved into me, numbing through me before freezing me in place, my muscles and tendons and bones outside my control.

  My heart beat in fear as she let me go, my face slamming into the bed with a rough smack, my body no longer responding to the signals I was sending to it. I was forced to lie lifeless on the bed and watch everyone in front of me.

  “Play the game … Play the game…” Sain repeated in a low mumble from the chair, no one so much as paying him attention.

  Edmund walked over to where I lay, his eyes glinting brightly with a pride that, once upon a time, I had assumed was only reserved for me.

  “Nicely done, child,” he mused, his voice deep and dark as he stood over me. His hand was rough as he grabbed my hair and pushed and pulled my head from side to side. “You are learning.”

  “Play the game … Play the game…” Sain repeated, his voice rising louder as he finally pulled Edmund’s attention away from me. The pride and joy in my father’s demeanor left.

  “This one, on the other hand…” In three quick steps, my father was on him.

  Sain’s actions grew more desperate and pained with each tap of my father’s shoes against the stone.

  The moment Edmund reached the old man, his head turned, his eyes black as he continued to mumble. The look froze Edmund in place, his shoulders pulling into a square as he laughed, the sound deep and low as Sain repeated the same phrase again.

  “Damek!” Edmund’s voice was loud as one of the shadowed figures pulled to the front, the scars that littered the man’s face more obvious in the bright light from the hall. “Go and get me a mug. It seems I have more use for this one than I thought.”

  “Play the game…” Sain repeated, his voice moving into a slow lull as the black faded, the green eyes downcast and broken as he looked around in fear to those who now surrounded him. His hands pulled into his chest in a move that I used to interpret as fear, as a broken man who was made to bend. “Edmund!”

  “Sain.” Edmund scowled as if Sain’s shout of feigned terror was nothing more than a greeting. “You saw something.”

  Sain moved farther away as Edmund took a step closer, his hand moving to claw at the chair in a desperate need to escape.

  “Y-yes…”

  “What did you see?”

  Sain visibly shook under the weight of Edmund’s question.

  My heart, the single thing in my body that could move, increased to a torrent as it thundered within me. Fear and pleasure mixed together in a weird blend of emotion as I watched Sain perform in the play before me, and for the first time, I understood what was going on.

  “The girl…” Sain gasped, his voice shaking as he raised a finger toward Míra. The girl stepped back in shock as Sain looked at her, his eyes flashing black for no more than a moment before he looked back to Edmund, his body shaking so badly it looked to be convulsing. “I saw her…”

  “You saw her do what?” Edmund asked, his voice mixed between a gentle nudge and a snap.

  Sain twitched at the inflection, as if he was a wounded animal, the motions so similar to what I had watched him do for centuries while he was my father’s captive that I fell deeper in awe of him.

  “I saw her … in Prague … I know how to get her into the cathedral.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Wake up!” Her little voice was clear as she yelled in my ear like she had when she was alive, running into Thom’s and my bedroom and jumping on the bed in a mad attempt to rouse us. “Wake up!”

  I could feel the bounce of the bed, the rhythmic motion moving over me like blankets being pulled down. I almost expected Thom’s arm to wind around me, pulling me into him and nuzzling my ear in an attempt to gross her out and scare her off.

  “Wake up, Mommy! Hurry!” Her voice was more frantic now. She must be hungry. Maybe I could convince Thom to make her pancakes.

  The bed kept jostling. There was only the rhythmic movement of the blankets being pulled over my shoulders, over my head, and then back again. I wanted to tell Rosy to stop pulling at them, but the words wouldn’t come. In and out, they moved, the blankets extraordinarily cold and wet, so much colder and wetter than I remembered.

  “Wake up, Wyn!” This time, the voice wasn’t Rosy’s; it was Cail’s. The shout was loud and abrupt in my ear as it pulled me back to a red-tinted world. Eyes opening to wet cobbles, I saw the blood red water of the Vltava lapping over my body as the tide rose, inches away from sweeping me away.

  I gave a little shout at the realization of where I was, my confusion rising as I moved in desperation to get away from the waters, away from the waves that were trying to drag me under.

  Moving quickly, I placed my hands against the soaked cobbles, freezing in pain as a jagged shot moved up my arm from my left hand, from the bright red blade that had impaled my palm. One, blood-soaked point emerged on either side of the destroyed skin.

  It was then that I screamed.

  Loud and frightening, my pain echoed around the old buildings, off the cracked windows and the abandoned cars. It moved away from me in a wave that, with one hiss, one shriek from a hidden Vilỳ, I knew was a mistake.

  My head turned toward the sound, my heart plunging in fear at w
hat I was facing, at what I had done.

  In a gasp of terror, I moved, everything aching as I attempted to pull myself to standing, my legs shaking, chest heaving as I fell over my own feet, scuttling over the wet road like an injured animal. I kept my hand cradled against my chest in a desperate effort to keep the pain at bay.

  Everything spun as I propelled myself forward, one foot landing in front of the other in a desperate need to escape, not the fanged creature, but any others that would follow.

  And they would.

  Every move I made heaved through me in broken distortion, like the signal was blocked. My legs twitched as I tripped over them, the unbalanced steps sending me into walls and crashing against cars. The sound of each bang, each sob echoed through the street, creating the perfect path for the little beasts to find me.

  It was something that was going to get me killed.

  The snarls were moving closer. The gnashing teeth, the beating wings coming up behind me.

  Swinging my uninjured hand behind me like a baton, I tried to bring my magic up, ready to drop the filthy thing out of the sky before any more came. Nothing happened. No flame, no spark of magic. I didn’t even feel it swell inside of me. It was no more than a low buzz under my skin, a gentle throbbing that felt like knives against my soul.

  Dodging into an alley, my heart thundering in fear and confusion, I leaned against the wall as I listened, waiting for the thing to follow me, knowing it wasn’t far behind.

  With a hiss and a snarl, the Vilỳ came around the corner of the alley. I reached for it, wrapping my fingers around its neck and slamming it into the wall I stood next to. My whole body shook as I held it there, staring into its dead eyes as it continually gnashed and fought me. Its little claws scraped against the hand that held it captive, but I didn’t so much as flinch. Those tiny pinpricks of pain were nothing compared to the agony shooting up my arm.

  This, I could handle.

  This, I was used to.