Embers of Darkness (Through the Ashes Book 2)

by J. A. Culican

  "What on Earth is going on?"

  A voice echoed across the chamber, and she couldn't tell where it came from. "Your enemy is here," the voice said. It had an odd tone to it, like two people speaking together in perfect unison. "You must kill him to gain your freedom. Until then, you will be trapped here with me forever."

  The voice and its echoes went silent, like a switch flipped. Somehow, she knew it wouldn't speak again. Whoever had said it had been in the room, silent, when she arrived and now was gone.

  Bells padded across the floor to stand in front of the seated figure. She pulled the bag off and saw the bound figure was the khan. His face was bruised and a gag had begun cutting into his mouth. He looked at her with wide eyes, desperate panic on his face. He looked left and right, eyes darting over the room, then back at her.

  She untied his gag and let it fall to the floor. When it landed, it faded to nothing.

  The khan said, "You win, I've been defeated. I wanted to bring order to the world, peace at last, no matter the cost. Surely you of all people could understand that, Bells!"

  How had he known her name?

  He growled, "Now, things are worse than ever. Just kill me and get it over with, fae. Do you enjoy that power over life and death, power over the elves who tormented you? I see it in your heart—you want to. You are no better than I. Have your justice, if it will make you feel better."

  He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, waiting.

  Bells shook her head and blinked, trying to wish away whatever vision this was, but the room stayed stubbornly real. Certainly, the gag had felt real enough. She asked, "How did you get here? The last thing I saw, you and Jaekob were fighting."

  "Bah. He isn't yours, girl. He's a dragon, you're a fae. He'll use you and then leave, just like everyone else in your life has, even your own family. Forget him. Just do this for me, and be called a hero. They'll never let me leave alive, but you can at least get some satisfaction from my death and prevent my torture." His eyes clicked over to the table with its rows of pain-inducing instruments.

  Bells reached for a blade and held it up, examining it. Could she do it? Could she kill a helpless man? He was her enemy. He was everyone's enemy. Killing him would end the conflict. Or would it? Was he really the enemy, or just a symptom of a greater disease? The elves she'd met had acted no differently than dark elves and the khan. They even were fighting over the same thing—power.

  "No," she said, making up her mind. "I'm not a killer, and I won't let you turn me into one just because it's easier for you. I've fought to protect myself, but that's not the same thing as killing a helpless man."

  "I promise you," the khan said with a sneer, "if you let me go, I won't hesitate to kill you to get out of here. Be smart."

  She set the knife down. "Kindness is never foolish. I won't kill you. I can't untie you, though, because you said you'd kill me."

  The khan laughed. "Then I guess we're both stuck here..." Even as the words left his mouth, though, the scene seemed to blow away like sawdust in the wind, leaving nothing behind but empty, black space.

  Only, it wasn't really empty. There was a faint light in the distance. She moved toward it and realized she was drifting, with no body. She was pure thought. Okay, so, she willed herself toward the pinprick of light. It grew larger until it looked like some sort of portal. She sped toward it until she seemed to pass through.

  There was a bright flash of light, and when it faded, she saw only one thing in the room. It was the sword, the Sword of Fire. It rested on a silk cloth draped over a table, though she saw no table legs. She saw nothing else at all, in fact—

  There was a silk pillow in front of the sword. Had it just appeared there or had she missed seeing it? She couldn't be sure. She went to sit on the pillow but then remembered she had no body. Curious, she looked down—and found she did have a body once again. It was a surreal feeling. How odd.

  "Well?" she asked, wondering what strangeness would happen next.

  A mote of light drifted up from the sword, growing larger as it rose inch by inch. When it was about a foot above the blade, it had become a softly glowing white ball of light a foot across.

  "Pick me up," the light said, pulsating with each syllable. "I am yours, if only you will swear to use me to lay waste this world and make all who remain bow at your feet."

  Bells burst out laughing. It was a mix of laughter and crying, though. What terrible monster would she become if she took the sword? Then it hit her—if she did that, she'd be no better than the khan, or the White King, or the Crown of Pures, any of them. The world wouldn't care who had enslaved them. To the people, it would all be the same. Bells knew what it was to be a slave in her body, but she always had had freedom inside herself, in her mind. The sword would take even that from everyone in the world if she let it.

  But if she didn't take it, Jaekob would die.

  She began to reach for the sword—

  No. Jaekob would rather die free than be a slave, even enslaved to her. She pulled her hand back and set it in her lap. "I don't want to rule the world. I only want to be free to live in peace. There will be neither peace nor freedom if I pick you up. I think I'd die to keep you out of the hands of those who crave you. The world deserves better than that."

  Surprisingly, she found that she meant it. It was as though she'd found her purpose, the destiny Creation had given her before she was born. She was destined to be here at this moment, turning down all the power in the world.

  A searing light flashed, which managed to be somehow both icy cold and hot as fire at the same time, and her world spun around and around, faster with each cycle. The room she was in seemed to break apart piece by piece, disintegrating with the force of a storm, and each piece was replaced by a growing blackness. She clung desperately to the last piece as the vortex tried to draw her away into nothingness and then it, too, was ripped from her hands. As the last remnant of that reality disintegrated into the nothingness, there was another intense flash of light that made her shield her eyes.

  When she realized she was still alive, she opened her eyes and gasped. She was back in the tent, under the bed with the sword in her hands. It felt warm and comforting, like it belonged there.

  Nearby, Jaekob and the khan rolled on the floor, each holding a dagger in one hand and the other man's wrist in the other, struggling to stab each other and fighting not to be stabbed.

  Her eyes opened wide. The thought occurred to her that their fight was almost like a metaphor for the world at large. She felt a tingling in her hands that grew from warm to hot, making her suddenly aware that she still held the sword. She had to get it out of there, away from the dark elf and anyone else who would use it to make slaves of the world.

  She rolled out from beneath the bed and scampered to her feet, holding the sword in both hands. In the center of her chest, she felt a growing pressure. Not quite painful, more like an ache—something that desperately had to be released. The pressure grew, and she fought against it but hers was a losing battle. It was overwhelming her.

  Again, the thought occurred to her—it had to be released. She was desperate to get that sensation out of her as it grew to encompass not just her chest, but her entire body.

  She threw her head back and screamed, and as she screamed, she felt the pressure streaming out through her mouth. It was a thick, black smoke, a writhing mass of black vapor tendrils. As the last of it left her, it formed a swirling ball in front of her. There was a buzzing noise, starting low at first but as the ball shrunk in on itself, the pitch rose higher and higher. At last, when that smoky ball had compressed almost to a single pinhead-sized dot, it froze for half a second and then streaked toward Bells' forehead like a bullet, striking her. It exploded, sending out a shockwave in every direction almost faster than her eyes could see it.

  In the wake of the shockwave, Bells became aware of total silence. There were no more sounds of fighting in the tent, nor the din of battle outside. No roars of dragons, no troll
war-cries. No insects, no wind ruffling tents.

  Only pure silence.

  Bells stood at the edge of the forest, facing the city. Jaekob stood beside her on one side, while the Dark Khan stood on her other. Behind her, filling the forest, stood two whole armies. The dragons shifted uneasily, filling the woods with a faint rustling sound. Those, she had left free. The elves and trolls and weres, however, stood motionless with their eyes locked directly ahead, unblinking. Bells shuddered at the creepy effect.

  Jaekob said, "Are you sure you're ready for this? You only just got the sword. You retrieved it and I'm happy to let you carry it into the city. Whatever happened when you picked it up, it didn't happen when I had it. Until we know why, I would just as soon let you bear it." He smiled and added, "Besides, it can only help all of you fae to have one of your kind march into the city, triumphant."

  Bells let out a long breath, trying to force her frustration out, to let it go. It didn't seem like the right time to argue with him, but he hadn't "let" her carry it. It was what the sword insisted on.

  She said, "Thank you. For right now, at least, the sword seems to want me. I don't know what else it wants, but I know what it can do. For right now, my focus is just on stopping the fighting in the city."

  The khan said, "They will do as you command. They will see the truth, just as I have. Just as my army has. Only you are worthy to rule them."

  Bells shuddered again. To rule them... She didn't want to rule anyone. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad to step in and do what needed to be done to save the city from itself. With the sword, she was the only one who even could.

  She raised the sword over her head in one hand and cried, "Forward, march." She chopped through the air with the sword as she said it, then simply began walking toward the city.

  Soon, she was in the outskirts of Philadelphia, the suburbs as humans called it. Everywhere she went, those who weren't fighting stopped whatever they were doing and bowed to her, then joined the growing mob behind her. Similarly, those who were fighting stopped what they were doing when she commanded them to. They sheathed their weapons and then they, too, joined the growing mass of people following her into the city.

  It was odd how, as she walked through toward the Dragon District and the Crown of Pures, there was mostly silence behind her and the sound of chaos ahead. It was working—she was bringing peace to the city. But at what cost?

  Jaekob asked, "When we get to the Dragon Council, how do you intend to handle them?" His voice sounded tight, almost an octave higher than normal. It was obvious that her answer mattered a great deal to him.

  It was also obvious—to her at least—that it was her decision to make and he could do nothing to stop her. Maybe it would be best to force those who ruled to bow before her, making them do what had to be done to make this world a better place—

  She shook her head to clear those thoughts. No, that was the sword's influence. She would give them every opportunity to do the right thing. She hadn't wanted the sword's power in the first place, but now that it was hers, she had to decide how best to use it.

  She replied, "I intend to go to them and give them my aid, not take their place."

  She saw the corners of his mouth turn up and felt glad she could at least give him what he wanted without bending him to her will. At least, she hoped his will was his own, still. The rest of the city, however, would not be so lucky. For them, she would quell the fighting, whether it was right or wrong. Letting the world destroy itself would be more wrong.

  As they approached the Wards and she saw the growing throng of dragons awaiting her there, she pushed her thoughts and doubts about the morality of it aside and prepared to bring her brand of peace to the Dragon District if necessary, and then to every other district.

  The virtual silence behind her that she had left in her wake reassured her that she was making the right decision. No more screams of fear and pain. She smiled at Jaekob and said, "Ironic that it should be a 'little fae' who finally brings peace between the Pures."

  "Ironic, indeed. You have a long day ahead of you."

  He was right, of course, but Bells felt deep inside that she was up to the task. The sword gave her courage.

  She slid the Sword of Fire into its sheath and, keeping her hand on the hilt, stepped up to the Guardians at the gate. When they knelt before her, to the surprised and shocked expressions on the faces of those behind them, Bells smiled. "In peace, I say, let me in."

  Blaze of Magic-Through the Ashes Book 3

  Available NOW

  Jaekob

  An hour before dawn, Jaekob lay in bed with his eyes half open, feeling exhausted. He had lost his battle with insomnia that night, but he was far too tired to get up and do anything productive in the middle of the night. Instead, he stayed in bed and let his mind wander.

  Every time he tried to think about the infection threat or the virtual blockade Counselor Darren was trying to put in front of Mikah—or worse, the stolen sword Shmsharatsh—another thought ran through his mind, interrupting him. It was frustrating not being able to get his mind around all the different situations to get the big picture and to figure out who was behind what. He just couldn't make himself pay attention for longer than a few seconds.

  Even more irritating, the thoughts that kept interrupting him were about Bells. Why was she angry at him? Did she have a point about his duty to protect the fae? Was there some greater purpose behind his random encounter with her that led to all of this? The thoughts had definitely grown irritating.

  Bells herself was irritating, though, and tiresome. She never showed him the proper respect for his rank, and yet for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that she was the only person who really cared about him rather than his position—including his father.

  His mind drifted to his mother and how different she was from Bells. (Again, still about Bells!) But were they really that different? Both Bells and his mother seemed to live to serve others. His mother never had any hesitation to stand up to Mikah, just like Bells, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he outranked her, or that he was a dragon and she was just a fae.

  Ha. "Just a fae?" He had never thought about how strong the fae were under the surface, to have survived centuries under the boot of other Pures. He would have gotten himself killed long ago if their roles were reversed. Heck, she would probably have made a better ruler than he was going to.

  He shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts. He was a dragon, born and trained into this role. Someday, he would take over from the greatest ruler the dragons had ever had, in his not-so-humble opinion, and he'd be every bit as great as Mikah. He had no doubt of that. They were too much alike, from what the older dragons said with smiles when they thought he wasn't listening.

  But his entire world had pretty much been turned upside down since Bells showed up, bringing to an end the last bits of the world he knew when Jewels was still alive. His world now bore no resemblance to that one, when he'd flirted with the idea of leaving his duties behind him to hand-fast her and spend his life hammering metal. It had been an idyllic thought.

  An image came to mind of Jewels' body buried under rubble, blood seeping out from beneath the stones. Elves had done that, and elves tormented the fae. He wanted revenge for Jewels, and if he got it, Bells would be grateful.

  He would of course have to tell Bells that saving her people had nothing to do with it, because the connection they shared guaranteed she'd spot any lie. His aura would betray him. He would just have to avoid the topic altogether and let her make her own assumptions.

  His eyebrows furrowed as he realized that Bells was intruding on his thoughts again. Sometimes, he wished he could just get away from her.

  He laughed, knowing that had been a lie. If not, then why did he look forward to seeing her in the morning? Why did he even want to bother sorting things out between them?

  He heard a scuffle across the room and all other thoughts vanished as he froze and focused on breathing evenly,
closing his eyes to mere slits in the hope he appeared asleep. How in Creation could anyone get in his room without him knowing? His Wards were far too strong for that.

  Well, obviously not. Maybe it was just a rat...

  The faint metallic ring of a weapon drawn from a scabbard came softly to his ears. This time, the sound was definitely not from the other side of the room. His heart beat faster and his blood sang to him to get up, to fight. Dragons were warriors, and Jaekob was one of the best.

  He slid his hand an inch at a time up under his pillow and then felt the comfort of a cold, iron hilt. His silvered, enchanted dagger was no weapon of legend, like his father's sword, but it had been designed specifically to deal with weres because they were the elves' preferred assassins.

  The room became suddenly pitch black. Jaekob’s heartbeat rose with his sudden adrenaline. Though he had to see, if he used his dragon sight, his eyes would glow and give away the fact that he was awake. Mikah hadn't come to give him a hug in the middle of the night since Jaekob had been a small child, which meant there was someone in his room who didn't belong there. They'd come through his Wards, past two sentries, and entered his room without breaking a door or window, all without setting off any alarm.

  Jaekob closed his eyes and willed his dragon sight to come on as low as possible. He gripped his dagger under the pillow, then cracked his eyes open just wide enough to get a blurry view through his eyelashes.

  What he saw made him gasp involuntarily. Creeping toward him, almost to the rug in the center of Jaekob's room, a blood-drenched werewolf bared six-inch long canine teeth at him.