Of Embers

by Amily Cabelaris

  “I thought the boys did,” Goldie says, bravado suddenly gone.

  The bandits behind murmur amongst themselves. “I thought you did.”

  Leo pinches the bridge of his nose. “That was the whole point. She supposed to be here with me.” The last word he shouts, the small release of very obvious underlying tension.

  “We’ll find her,” says one bandit behind him. He nods to another, and the two of them disappear behind Asher as well. Asher hopes Priscilla got far enough away to avoid them.

  Leo approaches Caius slowly. “For now, I’m more interested in you. Hold him still, please.”

  Leo pats around Caius’ armour, beneath his arms, then stops.

  Caius spits on his face. Leo curses. “Hold him!” He reaches behind a flap in Caius’ armour and pulls out a black gem. “Here it is.”

  All eyes fix at once on the gem. Its jagged edges catch light, but it’s too dense to allow any inside. It reminds Asher of black quartz. Mysterious and beautiful.

  Leo balances the gem on one finger in front of Caius’ face. “You killed my father for this?”

  Asher stares, dumbfounded. Caius does not reply.

  “You almost killed me a little while ago,” Leo goes on, turning the gem over in his hands.

  Caius shakes his head. He meets Asher’s eyes with a look of shame. When Asher looks up again, Francine enters the room at the far end.

  She stops. “Asher?”

  The sight of her here, in this place, at this time, does not fully register to him. It seems every unexpected person is here in this building tonight.

  The only thing Asher can think to do is shout, “Run! Get out of here.”

  Every head turns to her, standing frozen beside the throne. Asher struggles in his captor’s hold as Leo approaches her. She’s not running away.

  Asher pulls one arm free just to have it captured again. “What are you doing? Go!”

  “Yes, Francine,” Leo says softly to her. “Go. Run away.” He smiles back at Asher as he hands her the gem. “She is not going anywhere.”

  Francine shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry, brother.”

  Asher cannot make sense of the interaction. “What are you doing?”

  “Accepting my gift,” Leo says. “As payment for the wonderful help she’s been over these last weeks.”

  “Help? You’ve been helping them?” Asher asks.

  Leo sweeps an arm toward her. “We met when I came here from Lockmire, at an inner-city meeting about magic,” he tells them. “I sold the story of Evelyn’s resurrection to the Diamond Eye and was offered a job. I suppose I have a talent for acquiring information.”

  “Professional rat,” Caius mutters.

  “And Francine knew so much more about the previous general of Lockmire than I did,” Leo continues. “She trusted so much to me. I built up a network to keep an eye on Caius and Evelyn. I knew our time together wasn’t over. We all had a story to finish.”

  “So you joined up with the bandits to orchestrate all this? For what? To torture us?” Asher asks.

  “I was always part of the bandits,” Leo corrects. “Esterden and the bandits have been one and the same for many years. That is, until it was discovered that Krassis wanted to side with Tarreth to destroy his own people. Trying to cut a sword between bandit and Esterden citizen would be dividing each person’s left half from their right.”

  “Easier to just take Tarreth for yourself?” Asher asks.

  “And kill Krassis and his sorry choice of a new wife, if we can ever find them,” Leo says.

  Asher scoffs. “You truly believe the bandits can rule all of Ardellon? There aren’t enough of you. The people will always fight back.”

  “Not if we have the dragons,” Leo says with a wry smile.

  A thunderous crash behind slams Asher against the tile floor. Someone behind crushes him. He worms out in a fit of breathless panic.

  Fire scorches the columns. The bandits churn about in a frenzy. There’s a dragon-sized hole in the entrance, and a dragon kneeling there. A sheaf of golden hair waves like a burst of flame from atop the dragon’s neck.

  “Crazy woman,” he hears Caius whisper.

  “Come on!” she shouts.

  Asher looks back at Francine, half-hidden behind the throne. He extends a hand.

  “Francine!” he shouts across the screaming mob.

  She catches his eye and dashes for him.

  Caius seizes his arm. “Asher, we have to go.”

  Leo stands between Asher and Francine. He says something to her that Asher can’t hear over the shouts of the bandits, the rasping growl of the dragon, the pounding of blood in his head.

  “Asher”—Caius yanks him toward the dragon— “let’s go!”

  Asher ignores him and charges for Francine. Before he gets there, Francine blasts Leo away with a powerful gust of magic. Leo leaps back to his feet in seconds. Asher snatches up her hand.

  “Stop them!” Leo screams.

  Asher has never felt so relieved climbing onto a dragon, his sister up before him, Caius close behind. Evelyn helps Caius as best as she can while he holds the gash in his abdomen closed.

  “Can you control this thing? I only knew how to make him obey me,” Evelyn says to Caius.

  He collapses on the ridge of the dragon’s skull. “Sursum!” he shouts, beating the back of the dragon’s head with a loosely clenched fist.

  The beast roars, tossing its horns, and backs out of the Gallery. With one great push, it lifts into the sky. Asher’s stomach lurches. He grabs a spine for stability.

  The deepening night enfolds them. Burning Tarreth grows smaller and smaller below. The noise of the fray dissipates.

  Asher turns away from the city to Francine, holding the fire crystal against Caius’ wound. The facets of the crystal glow deep scarlet as she whispers the spell, rolling it across the torn flesh until it seals.

  Evelyn touches Caius’ cheek. “Better?”

  Caius sighs deeply. “I thought I was finished.”

  “Not if I have any say,” Evelyn says, and kisses his forehead.

  Asher touches Francine’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came with us.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I was never a part of them anyway. I had a feeling weeks ago that Leo was a troubled person. But I couldn’t turn against him then, or he may have killed me. I figured I could stop them if I played along until I got the crystal.”

  Asher shakes his head. “You stood by while your city burned. You acted like you were on their side while they killed your own people.”

  A shadow darkens her expression. “I was too deeply entrenched in it to back down. I know I should have acted sooner.”

  “You could have gotten all of us killed.”

  “I would have stopped them before that.”

  “They’re behind us,” Caius says.

  Asher peers carefully over the side. Another dragon climbs the air toward them.

  “Tell this thing to move faster,” Francine urges Caius.

  “Where? We’ll be trying to outrun them for days.”

  “Could you blast them away?” Evelyn asks Francine.

  “I can try,” she says. She holds onto a short spine jutting out from the dragon’s shoulder.

  “Can’t we hide, maybe in the clouds?” Evelyn asks Caius, gazing up.

  Caius shakes his head. “It gets hard to breathe when you’re that high. We can ascend a little, but we shouldn’t go too far. They’ll just wait lower down for us to descend.”

  “So we have to fight them,” Asher concludes as Caius pats the dragons head and delivers the command.

  “They’re getting closer,” says Francine.

  “Hit them with as much force as you can,” Asher says. The dragon suddenly spins beneath him. He grabs onto a spine tightly. “Oh gods.”

  “Are you all right?” Evelyn asks.

  “Don’t you feel that?”

  “We’re going too high,” Caius says. He shouts something at the dragon.<
br />
  “He’s not stopping,” Evelyn says. She backs against a spike and locks her arms around it from behind. Her eyes half-close.

  “I think he’s afraid of the dragon behind him,” Caius says. “It’s bigger than he is.”

  Francine sways. Asher reaches for her.

  “I can’t…” she mutters. The blue in her palm fades.

  “Hold on, Francine,” Asher calls out. His own voice sounds far away.

  “Descendit, lente!” Caius shouts.

  The dragon shivers and growls. Asher’s stomach twists and he wretches off the side, trying to keep the spine locked under his armpit. If he falls unconscious, there’s a better chance of staying aboard.

  The night sky blurs around him. He gulps air frantically, struggling with every wisp of willpower to stay conscious. But he can feel himself being pulled. Drawn like a river to an ocean.

  A blast of fire knocks the dragon off course. The beast screeches in pain and plunges downward on its side. Asher loses grip, rolling into a crevice between the dragon’s wing and shoulder. Francine falls against him, hard. Caius is above, gripping a spine with one arm and Evelyn with the other.

  The beast rights itself gradually and regains its flight. Caius grounds out orders to it while Asher regains his hold on the spine and now on Francine.

  “We can’t outrun them,” Evelyn says breathlessly.

  “That’s why I ordered it to fight them,” Caius replies.

  The beast turns itself toward the oncoming dragon, now in front and slightly above them. The enemy dragon whips its head and snarls like an angry wolf. Its great belly glows orange. Francine pushes away from Asher to stand at the back of its head, crystal in hand. With a screech, the dragon shoots a ball of flame at them.

  “Brace yourselves,” Francine calls out.

  In that moment, with a fireball the size of Lockmire’s castle hurtling toward them, Asher has no clear thoughts. The only sensation in his body is the singular desire to see Priscilla and Alesia one last time.

  There’s a flash of icy blue light. A harsh sizzling sound. And Francine, sweeping the fireball away from them with a great gust of air.

  Evelyn gapes at her. “That was amazing.”

  Francine stares in awe at the crystal. “All the stories were true.”

  “Look out!” Caius shouts.

  Another spurt of fire. Another masterful deflection. And another. And another. Until Francine is panting from exertion and the enemies are cursing loud enough to be heard from here.

  “Tell ours to do the same,” Asher says to Caius.

  “Ours doesn’t spit much fire,” Caius returns.

  Francine turns to them. “Well, I can’t do this forever.”

  “They’re coming,” says Evelyn, pointing in horror.

  “Sursum, cito!” Caius yells, sliding backward.

  But it’s too late. The impact sends an awful blend of cries into the air—beast and bandit alike. Asher smacks his face into the dragon’s scales, scratching his cheek. Then, he is in midair. No dragon below. Just emptiness. Sky.

  And for a moment, nothing matters.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Evelyn sits up. She hit her head. Not so hard as to pass out completely, but hard enough to forget for a moment where she is.

  She holds onto a spine instinctively as the dragon lurches. A dragon’s back. That’s where she is. She turns her head toward the tail of the creature. Caius is there, holding her mother by the throat against the dragon’s back. She kicks him sharply to loosen his grip and scrambles out from beneath him.

  Asher is climbing back up near the dragon’s hind leg. He glances around and calls Francine’s name in a shaking voice. Goldie ducks Caius’ grab for her and gives his chest a hard shove toward the edge. He steadies himself against the side of the dragon’s wing. He jerks, trying to balance, his back to the open air.

  Goldie stands before him, watching him for only a moment before she lifts one foot to kick him off.

  “Mother!” Evelyn cries.

  Goldie looks at her once. Golden strands streak her face. Her furious face. The face Evelyn ran from as a girl because she was afraid. Afraid of her mother’s coldness and frequent mood shifts. The face she told herself for years that she didn’t see the night Jacklyn died, her hair dyed black, weeping wretchedly in a bandit’s tent. The eyes that met Evelyn’s for a single second as she passed.

  She wants to know why. With every fibre of strength in her, she wants answers. There’s a single ray of vulnerability in Goldie’s blue gaze now. Why is it there? What hasn’t she said?

  Asher leaps onto her from behind. They swing toward Caius. Evelyn reaches out fruitlessly. But it happens so fast. In one second, the three of them are grappling, unbalanced, flailing. In the next, they disappear over the edge.

  For a long moment, Evelyn sits still, not believing what her eyes just saw, suddenly aware of the rhythmic flight of the dragon as it takes her across Blackmist Pond. She wonders briefly if she’ll be able to get down on her own.

  Caius’ voice prompts her to rise. Holding onto a shoulder spine, she looks over the edge where they fell.

  She sees Caius first, almost standing against the dragon’s front leg. Asher’s arms are wrapped around the dragon’s claw below him. And around his waist, clinging like a terrified child against her father, is Goldie. Her legs swing wildly in midair. Her mouth is open, but for a few moments, there is no scream. Then, she screams in small spurts. Terrified, gasping sounds.

  Evelyn reaches for Caius. “Take my hand!” she shouts.

  “You can’t pull me up,” Caius tells her. He slides slowly down. “Asher, shake her off you.”

  “I can’t,” he says, panting. “I can’t.”

  “Reach for me,” says Caius.

  “I can’t. I have to let go.”

  Evelyn stretches for him. “No!”

  “No, don’t let go,” Goldie whimpers. “Please, don’t let go.”

  Caius loses his grip with one arm. He curses breathlessly. He slips when he tries to climb.

  “Descendit!” Evelyn screams at the dragon. “Stupid beast. Caius, grab my arm!”

  “I can’t hold on,” Asher says. “I have to let go.”

  “No. No, Asher, no.” Evelyn slides one leg down. “Grab me!”

  Goldie stretches one hand out for Evelyn’s ankle. She yanks her down hard enough to nearly throw her off. Asher shoves at Goldie with one hand, sliding down until he seizes the dragon’s claw with one white-knuckled hand. Caius slips again. The dragon mutters with complaint, shaking its claw from the discomfort, jostling loose their grip.

  Evelyn reaches down a splayed hand. “No!”

  The three of them disappear. Lost in the darkness below. So quickly Evelyn didn’t even see their faces a final time.

  Evelyn’s hand and arm are cold by the time the dragon finally decides to land. She hasn’t stopped reaching down.

  Numbly, she stumbles off the dragon. The beast growls at her once before trailing off into the Peaks above. She watches him go for just a moment before turning back to the black water. She wades into it, soaking her boots, her trousers, her shirt.

  “Caius,” she calls. Then, louder, “Caius! Asher!”

  She begins to swim. “Caius!”

  The water is warm near the surface, but her toes are cold.

  “Asher!”

  She swims out, farther, farther. But the middle never gets any closer. Was it there that they dropped? Or perhaps to the left? Or the right? Did they fall into the water at all? Or did they hit the ground and die instantly?

  The Pond resists her. It shoves her back toward the shore with powerful arms. She can’t feel the bottom anymore. Her arms ache. The waves lap at her like hungry dogs, aching to devour her.

  “Caius!”

  Her cries have turned to sobs. She chokes on a mouthful of water. Gasps for air instinctively. But if they’re all dead, why shouldn’t she be, too? Legs and arms cramping with fatigue, Evelyn lets herself sink. Le
ts the water close above her. Loses herself in its arms. Floats in a cold, dark world not unlike the real one.

  Even below the surface, she can see Tarreth’s fires burning high into the night sky. Far away, she can hear someone shouting. Then, there is only silence. Enveloping, welcomed silence. The current picks her up and moves her as if trying to be gentle as it coaxes her into unconsciousness. Into giving up.

  Something twinges in the back of her mind. Her eyes flash open.

  She’s never been very good at giving up.