Of Embers

by Amily Cabelaris

  Asher nods. “Ah. Pleasure,” he says with a nod. “Here we are.”

  Priscilla hesitates at the door. She looks at Asher with fear in her eyes. “I don’t want to go in.”

  “Why not? You said you wanted to come here.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know who I am.”

  “But you belong here, don’t you?”

  Priscilla’s face is full of distress. She walks past him and sits on a bench against the wall, back straight, eyes blinking rapidly.

  “Have you slept?” Asher wonders, sitting next to her.

  “A little.”

  “Eaten?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Let me purchase some bread and wine for you, then we can talk about why you can’t go in.”

  She grabs his hand as he rises to go. “Please, don’t go. I must tell you...”

  “I am no priest, good lady. Telling me your sins will not banish them.”

  “A worldly priest would do me no good, sir. A worldly priest is not involved like you are.”

  “Like I am?”

  “I’ve just come from the dungeons,” she says slowly, “where I handed over a woman who had murdered another.”

  Asher blinks at her. “Maven. You caught her?”

  She shakes her head again. “She came to the Sanctuary after she escaped, seeking refuge. I hid her for an evening, until…” She stares at Asher. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “No, I didn’t know that you hid a murderer in your place of worship,” Asher says, biting his tongue to control his temper. What a thought.

  “No, I mean, about Evelyn. About her resurrection.”

  The door opens behind her as Priscilla says this. Ilvara exits first, talking to someone behind her about how they’ll never find Caius in a city so large. And then, she steps out.

  She lowers her face against the initial glare of the sun, then tips it up. Her golden braid swishes as the door closes behind her. Her blue eyes find him at once. Asher rises on legs made of water. He blinks, asking himself if he’s lost his mind. If she’s truly there, right in front of him.

  “Asher,” she says, face brightening in surprise. “It’s lovely to see you.”

  She throws her arms around his neck. Asher digs a fingernail into his palm to test if he’s dreaming, but he does not wake. Evelyn is actually here. Right here with her arms squeezing his neck.

  Alive.

  He finds himself and wraps his arms around her tightly. He breathes in her scent. The same. As if she never died.

  As if she never died.

  Asher releases her and steps back, suddenly alarmed. “You…how? How did this happen?”

  She smiles broadly. “Herus decided I was not finished in this life quite yet.”

  Asher takes her shoulders and hungrily studies her face. Beautiful, incredible, to see life in her sapphire eyes again.

  “Gods, this is amazing,” he whispers in wonder. “A true miracle.”

  “Oh, hello Priscilla,” Ilvara says behind him, her sardonic voice cutting into Asher’s joy.

  “Hello, Ilvara,” Priscilla says softly.

  “I’m surprised you returned. I thought you took your new friend into the forest and vanished.” Ilvara sounds quite agitated.

  Priscilla replies gently, not rising to it. “Of course not. No, Maven is in the dungeons. She’ll be executed in a week or so.”

  “They’re waiting that long?”

  “There are some legalities to finish, I suppose.”

  “Where is Grogar?”

  “He stayed. He wanted to see the entire thing through. I waited for a long while with him until he told me to leave.”

  “I’m glad he at least can see these things through…”

  Asher clears his throat. “Excuse me, my lady,” he says to Ilvara, “I think I understand why you seem upset, and so was I, but what does any of it matter now? Look at this.” He lifts Evelyn’s hands. “Evelyn is alive. Maven has been rightly judged and awaits punishment for her crimes. Why not just be happy with how things have worked out?”

  Ilvara looks down, silent.

  Asher goes on, “You can continue being upset, or you can forgive, and enjoy the fact that Evelyn is alive.” Asher grins at her. Gods, what a mercy.

  “I agree with Asher,” Priscilla says.

  “Is Caius not with you?” Asher asks Evelyn. Surely, he would not leave her side now.

  “No. He left last night before I was resurrected.”

  Chills run down his spine at the word. “He does not know?”

  “That’s why we’re going out to find him,” Ilvara says, gentler now.

  Asher nods. “I’ll help. Lady Priscilla, I’d love for you to join us, but you should really rest and eat something.” He eyes the Sanctuary, then continues, quieter, “If what I’ve heard of your people is true, you’ll only find forgiveness there.”

  Priscilla smiles a quite lovely smile. She nods. “Thank you again for your help. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

  Asher’s face slackens as he thinks of something. “Well, actually…Caius’ daughter is at the Shrine, but I don’t like how I feel there. I’d trust her much more with you while I’m gone.”

  “You’ve only just met her,” Ilvara says.

  “Yes, but I don’t know a single one of those Shrine workers. All they do is spin flower petals in a bowl above Alesia and chant all night. And the place is always reeking of incense. It gives me a headache.”

  Priscilla smiles. “I’d be glad to have her stay. We all know a bit of healing, and of course I can pray for her.”

  “That would be good, I think,” says Asher.

  “We’re staying in an inn tonight, anyway,” Ilvara says. “Anna said there was a group coming from Esterden, and we’d like not to be there.”

  “You entertain groups from Esterden?” Asher asks Priscilla, uncomfortable with the thought.

  “We are a neutral city, if you recall,” Priscilla says. “All are welcome at the Sanctuary of Herus. Fellow believers from every place.”

  “But you aren’t really neutral,” Evelyn counters. “I heard there were recruits from Tarreth joining our side in the war. And Asher and Caius were both deployed from here.”

  Priscilla raises a finger. “The recruits joined of their own volition, as did the ones who joined Esterden’s side. And Captain Bertrand authorized their deployment, as far as I know. He is connected with one of the Lockmire leaders. He also deployed men for Esterden.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Asher wonders.

  “Like I said,” Priscilla says with a twinkle in her eye, “all are welcome at the Sanctuary of Herus. I hear many things. And you’re welcome to continue sleeping in my bedchamber. I’ll take one of the guest chambers. Now, about Caius’ daughter…”

  “Right. You and I shall fetch her while Evelyn and Ilvara begin their search.” He turns to those two. “I will meet you at the Guild of Warriors. If I am not there by midday, keep looking without me. I’ll check in other parts of the city. When we find him, we’ll bring him back here.”

  The women nod. “That sounds reasonable,” Ilvara says.

  Asher squeezes Evelyn’s hand. “Will you cut me if I hug you again?” he asks her.

  Evelyn grins, then opens her arms to him. “Death changes many things and teaches many lessons.”

  “Wise woman,” Asher says, pulling her close. He sighs against her golden hair. He can’t help but plant a tiny kiss on her head before pulling back. When he sees her face again, a part of him wishes she were his. And yet, none of that matters anymore. She’s alive. She’s breathing. That is the only important thing.

  “I will pray for Alesia,” she says.

  Asher nods, eyes flickering to the Sanctuary. “Thank you. Best of luck.”

  “To you as well,” Evelyn says. Ilvara gives the Sanctuary and Priscilla a last look before the two of them depart.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

 
; Esterden comes into view far below. Caius stares, blinking sunlight from his eyes. No, his eyes did not deceive him. Those are ranks forming in front of their gates. Esterden is getting ready to attack. It looks like they have hundreds in their regiment. That can’t be. Lockmire has more holds. They should have the larger army. How does Esterden have so many?

  If Blackmist Pond is taken from Lockmire, Esterden won’t trust Prynveil on its shores. Will Lockmire’s greatest hold be overrun by enemy troops? Lockmire itself can’t house all of those people. It is stupid to feel dread for Lockmire when there is no one left there that he cares about, but he still does. Its people will suffer greatly if they lose.

  He veers the dragon away from Esterden, toward the Peaks. Swooping down, he floats into the arms of the mountains. Ancient memories spring into Caius’ mind as he gazes over the familiar landmarks. He must have seen this exact route—with its glossy black spires rising like burnt columns around him—hundreds of times. The edges of the mountains are jagged like dragon teeth, sharp enough to inflict serious wounds. Some bandits have even carved axe-heads from this rock.

  Holes mark passages into the caves all around. Caius keeps an eye out for the one he always used. He remembers seeing men looking up at him in awe when he flew past on his winged steed. Caius was adamant about learning the dragon-tongue, but others wanted the advantage without putting in the labour it took to learn. Hours, days, weeks of study. Dangerous practice.

  As the memories fill his mind, there’s a nagging thought at the back of his head. How much of an advantage would a dragon give in a battle against Esterden?

  With this one tool, he could save the city. Her city.

  The beast beneath him doesn’t notice his conflict and doesn’t care about his grief. It lowers onto a rocky ledge when commanded. Caius leaps off, trying to push the other thoughts from his mind and focus on staying alive as long as possible in this rat hole. He’s comfortable in his equipment—a light suit of Lockmire armour torn at the shoulders, a sword, dagger, and small shield he found in the back of the wagon. He would have loved a bow as well, but he may find one inside. If I can remember where the armoury is…

  “Manere proper,” he says quietly to the dragon, “Hinc grata ego sum.” Stay near; I am not welcome here.

  He doesn’t want to escape if it gets tough inside, but having the dragon near calms the rolling of his stomach. He eyes the doorway with a smirk. It’s still too small for him to fit without ducking. Walking through, he marvels at the place, sighing at its age-old sameness. Nearly everything is how he left it all those years ago.

  The bandits thought it credible for a dragon clan to occupy a dead volcano. Legend said that, when Dux Ignis ruled the clan, they met in the belly of these caves, where they’d speak in the light of lava springs and dragons would slither in and out as they pleased. Of course, that was long before Caius’ time. He himself met with the clan in the huge main cavern he stands in now. That first day, the room was a flurry of bandits who’d just finished some huge task. Later, Caius learned his father had been involved, but no one told him how. He guessed his father died somewhere in the fray. No one really knew if he had. Perhaps he was too insignificant to matter.

  Today, however, the room is empty. Not a bandit in sight. Only empty ale bottles and trash and the same bitter smell drifting out through the opening in the top of the bottle-shaped cavern. Passages run out through openings all over the walls, connected to one another by the walks built on rickety wooden scaffolding, some broken in places. Down on the bottom of the cavern floor lies the main meeting place with tables, kegs, and some food supplies. There is only one person there—a woman dressed in furs.

  Caius furrows his brows. At this time of morning, these caves should be bustling. He makes his way down on the wooden walkway, and the woman only glances up when he’s made it to the cavern floor. In the middle of reaching for a bottle on one of the tables, the woman stares at him, then straightens slowly. She seems familiar, but Caius can’t pinpoint who she is. She’s close to his age, he is sure, so she must have been young, too, when he was here last.

  Caius hovers an arm discreetly by his sheath. “Where are the others?”

  “They’ve left already,” the woman says, seeming unafraid. “What are you still doing here?”

  Changing tactics, Caius replies, “No one told me what we were doing today.”

  Surprisingly, the woman laughs, a sound that echoes off the cavern walls and rings in his ears. “Poor dear,” she says. “I wouldn’t have mistaken you for a hatchling.”

  Hatchling. Caius processes the term. Is that what they’re calling new recruits now?

  “Would you kindly tell me where I am to go before I miss all the fun?” Caius asks, attempting a chuckle.

  The woman tilts her head. “Might not make any difference. Do you even fly?”

  Caius lowers his brows, puzzled. “Yes. How do you think I got up here? Scaled the sheer mountainside?”

  “Well, there are ground tunnel entrances. Very well. You’re headed to Lockmire to help Esterden claim it.”

  Caius blinks in shock, but tries not to let it show. “Ah. Right.”

  “Were you not at Gilbert’s meeting last night?”

  “I was scouting,” Caius replies quickly. “I would have gotten back yesterday, but a patrol slowed me down.”

  The woman makes a face. “Odd. There hasn’t been a scout in weeks.”

  “Independent work. I wanted to make sure the path was clear when we made our move.”

  “I suppose. What’s your name anyway? I think I’ve seen you around.”

  “Caius. Yours?”

  “Call me Lark. Everyone does. I’m the bard. How long have you been here?”

  “Hard to remember,” Caius says, smirking. “I’m still learning.”

  Lark’s eyes drift over Caius’ arms and chest. “Really?”

  Caius has no time for this. If the bandits have joined Esterden’s side, only a dragon could help Lockmire win this. “I should really be getting to the battle. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “Are you sure? There are enough men out there, so it won’t take long for Lockmire to go up in flames. Why don’t you stay?”

  “Um, no thanks.”

  “I could pour some ale. We could catch up.”

  Caius raises one eyebrow. Catch up? Does she remember me from when I first came? But she says nothing more. Suddenly, he is aware of the woman’s revealing bodice, accented by tufts of fur at the shoulders. She is objectively beautiful, with soft curves, dark eyes, and smooth, brown skin. At some point in his past, he may have considered her proposition.

  “As tempting as that offer is,” Caius says, “I’ve really got to go. I don’t want Gilbert or anyone else getting upset.”

  Lark gives a mysterious smile. “I have been rather lonely here since the men left. I wanted to go with, but someone has to hold things down here, right?”

  “Keep up the good work,” Caius says, turning away.

  She snatches his arm. “Oh, please say. Let me sing for you. You seem troubled.”

  Body tense, Caius tries to be gentle when he shakes off her arm. “Another time,” he says. Hurriedly, he ascends the walkway and exits the cave. He mounts his waiting dragon, orders it to fly, and takes off.

  Caius only lets out his breath when he is in the clouds again. There is no way he can let Lockmire be completely destroyed now. If the bandits have combined forces with Esterden, he can help Lockmire while exacting revenge on one of her greatest enemies. Once Lockmire is saved, he’ll figure out what to do next.

  Chapter 15

  Trial of Fire

  Evelyn sighs. They have been searching for hours, but to no avail. Now, the sun is high and hot, and hunger cramps her stomach. She’s been hungry so often since she’s returned.

  “We’ll find him,” Ilvara says quietly, patting Evelyn’s arm.

  Evelyn lists off people on her fingers. “The Guild hasn’t seen him, none of the guards have s
een him, his old friends haven’t seen him… There aren’t any other people in Tarreth who would know where he is. The other option is that he left Tarreth altogether.”

  “Well, while Asher checks with the other patrols, we’ll have a short meal and continue the search. We won’t stop until we find him.”

  Evelyn thinks Ilvara’s tone is weak for such a promise. “Did you sleep?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “You still sound tired.”

  Ilvara fidgets with her skirt. “I’m fine, Evelyn.” She gestures to a shop across the lane from the Sanctuary. “If I had any gold, we’d buy food there.”

  “You said you still had some food in your pack in the wagon,” Evelyn says. “Let’s just have some of that, then we’ll go back out searching.”

  “We should have taken the wagon out. My feet ache.”

  “It was better to search on foot. That way we don’t have to leave the wagon everywhere, or pay the fine if we’re in someone’s way. We have more freedom on our feet.”

  With a shrug, Ilvara climbs into the back of the wagon parked between the Shrine and the Sanctuary.

  “I’m surprised it wasn’t robbed in the night,” Ilvara’s voice comes muffled from the wagon bed.

  Evelyn gazes out at the street, then up at the sky. Caius, where are you?

  A man charges into the Tarreth gate on horseback, screaming. Guards rush to him. He stumbles off the horse and barely gains his feet. He’s pointing back toward the gate, still screaming. Guards try to calm him. Others stop and stare.

  Evelyn steps toward him, prying through the guards. She grabs his arm. His fevered eyes turn to hers.

  “What was that?” she asks. “What did you see?”

  “D—dragon!” he cries.

  “Where? Where was it headed?”

  He points again. His hand shakes. “Lockmire, I think. It was huge. The size of a mountain!”

  “What colour was the dragon?”

  “Black, like coal. Like death itself.”

  Evelyn nods, turning slowly toward the open gate. The path winds down, disappearing through the trees. The very meadow where she and Caius boarded a huge, black dragon. If that dragon has returned, Caius must be on it.