Crown of Cinders

by Rebecca Ethington

  My own silent warning met his dead-on. Eyes narrowing, I took a step forward, my silent threat understood.

  “My king.”

  But obviously not in its entirety.

  I wasn’t a fool. The well-kempt man wasn’t asking if I had seen this; he was asking how deeply I was able to see.

  I smiled, careful to keep the wicked gleam out of my eyes. The wide grin portrayed a calm comfort that was almost more perverse than letting the warning glare through my eyes. “Bronislav,” I said, still not letting my eyes drift from Alojz’s. “Come here.”

  I could see Bronislav hesitate out of the corner of my eye, his jaw slack as he looked between Alojz and me. The former returned his look in confusion. I still did not look away from the man before me. His own confusion spiraled into fear as the older Trpaslík finally moved to join me.

  “I wasn’t going to do this,” I said with a sigh, removing a small leather pouch from the pocket of my worn and baggy jeans, “but seeing as Alojz needs proof of what is to come …”

  Without warning, I reached forward, grabbing Bronislav’s hand and pouring a small amount of the liquid from the pouch over his skin.

  On contact, he began to scream, the powerful magic in the water burning through him. Meanwhile, I felt the cool comfort of the liquid, my sigh of contentment lost under the sound of Bronislav’s screams.

  “Black Water,” I announced, my voice distant as I felt my magic begin to connect with it. The powerful wave of sight moved into me as my magic connected with his reality, with his fate. “The true power of the Drak. The power that shows me everything.”

  Blinking, my eyes drifted to black.

  The gasp of shock and fear from Georg and Alojz was a whisper before sight took me completely, before images of Bronislav’s life passed before me.

  Flashes of children running and playing.

  Flashes of his bonding ceremony.

  Flashes of his future.

  Watching it all, I hoped for some sign of what was to come, for some hint as to what my path could be. However, Bronislav held nothing, merely flashes of their meetings, flashes of each failed attempt to trap me, and finally, of his death. Of his head rolling over the dirt pits of the battlegrounds, blood spraying over the battle that surrounded him.

  It was as I had planned, but he would not live to see the culmination of that battle. He knew nothing of the outcome, of my victory.

  His sight was useless to me.

  “His blood will flow over your hands,” I forced the words out with the hollow sounds of the Drak, the sight’s ominous roar following the false words. “Your banner will be golden, your future as bright as the glint it brings.”

  I pulled my hand away from him, leaving him still gasping in pain as the other two watched me, their faces muddled with anticipation and horror.

  “You will be one of the greatest of your kind,” I said directly to Bronislav as the old man stared at me with tears in his eyes, clutching his hand to his chest. “Go seek out Damek; have him wrap your hand. Your preparation for the accomplishment to come begins now.”

  My focus drifted back to Alojz, the man’s face now a stone mask, the fear clear.

  I couldn’t stop the smile. I couldn’t stop the wicked gleam from moving over my face, the malice so clear he flinched.

  Still, I didn’t look away. I let the glare seep into the defiant man before me as the echo of the door Bronislav left through reverberated around us.

  “Georg,” I said, holding my hand out to him in expectation, my fingers waggling like I was going to give him a sweet.

  “My king,” Georg began, his voice quiet as he took a step away from me, “I do not wish to know my sight … I believe you … I do not question your power.”

  Alojz flinched at Georg’s insolence, his own fear clear as my focus snapped away from him, going right to the cowering man beside him.

  The man pulled at his long beard in nervousness.

  “Georg.”

  A snap, a steady hand, a glare, and the man stepped forward, shaking from head to toe as he placed his hand in mine.

  His scream became a loud echo as I splashed the water over his hand. A large amount covered his palm, drifting up his wrist in a burn that would haunt him until I removed his life.

  While I gasped in ecstasy, my magic connected with his soul, feasting on the sights of his past, of his future. Letting them run over me, I watched his youth, watched him lust after a woman I had seen several times before. Watched him kill many Skȓíteks in battle.

  He was a good, useful soldier. I reconsidered sending him to his death, but then I saw the image of his head rolling across the sand right alongside his friends, and I sighed. The image was so beautiful I couldn’t possibly part with it.

  “Your future is set, your path true, and glory will follow you until your last breath, your days filled with regality, with accomplishments.” My eyes snapped back to green as the last of the false words left my lips.

  The man still heaved before me as he fought the need to scream.

  “Damek. Now.” I didn’t need to tell him twice before he tore from the room, whimpering in a desperate attempt to keep his cries at bay.

  Joy pressed against my skin as he left, my magic vibrating within me in anticipation. I couldn’t keep the wicked smile from my face.

  The door closed with a snap, and my focus slammed back to Alojz, the once defiant man jerking with power.

  I said nothing. I simply lifted my hands in expectation, my request clear, my eyes hard in a warning he could not ignore.

  His eyes were hard as he stepped forward, placing his hand in mine without hesitation. Then he hissed in pain as the residual water in my palm pressed against his skin.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” I hissed, clamping my hand around his as my magic began to move into him, twisting inside him and freezing him in place. “It’s a beautiful burn … Black Water. It gives me life, gives me sight, and hurts anyone weaker than me. Burns my enemies.”

  Tightening my hand around his, I lifted the pouch above his hand, letting it hover as I looked at him, drinking in the fear in his eyes as if it were a fine wine.

  “I know what you are asking,” I whispered, now so close to him I didn’t have to raise my voice to be heard.

  “Wh-what … am I asking? I don’t understand.” He could barely get the words out past the pain.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, the silent warning hitting him square in the chest.

  “My … my king.”

  At least he was catching on quickly.

  “Your perceived cleverness is thinly veiled. Even without my magic, it is as translucent as a windowpane. You have been a curious little beast, asking everyone you can about the magic of a Drak. About what we are, about what I am. About what I can do. Testing my abilities with pathetic little attacks.”

  His eyes widened as I smiled, his fear adding to my joy.

  With the tiniest flick of my wrist, I let another drop fall onto his palm, the burn hissing beyond the silence before his scream rent the air.

  He twisted and contorted his arm in an attempt to move away from my grip around his hand, only to realize I had frozen him in place, his body and magic ice and steel.

  “Shall I tell you what I really saw when I peered into your friends’ realities? Shall I tell you of the secret meetings held in old closets and the attempts to overthrow me?”

  Alojz’s eyes widened with each word, his jaw snapping shut in an attempt to keep the scream hidden. His last whisper of pride quickly disappeared.

  “Shields, barriers—any magic you throw my way cannot block my sight,” I hissed, stepping toward him as saliva sprayed over his face, my anger dripping from me. “I see everything.” I paused. “Shall we see what you show me?”

  Another shriek ripped from him before the water even hit his hand. This time, I poured a waterfall over his palm, over his arm, dripping it over his face and neck.

  The skin smoldered as it burned, the flesh melting
away. Sight developed stronger within me, dancing to the sound of his screams. My eyes plunged into sights’s ember burn as I took control.

  My magic swarmed the room, pressing against every wall, every bone, every rock. I felt them all. I memorized them. And then I controlled them.

  The same way the sight of my kind projected onto Black Water, the magical surface shimmering with sight so those who sought council could see, I projected the sight into the room surrounding us, the true form of my restricted magic flying free.

  From smoke and ash, the haunted imagery of the coming opening of the pits began to form. The high seats of the stadium surrounded us, the images distorted like looking through water, but clear enough that, with one strangled gasp from my captive, I was confident he was questioning the reality before him.

  Together, we stood in the center of the pits, a few battered Chosen wrestling in the blood-soaked mud as the packed house exploded in screams and cheers. The volume was so loud it pounded within my head like a bass drum.

  The black of my eyes stared at him as both the prescience and the room around us played in perfect tandem. Ghostly images of his conspirators walked past us, their eyes full of hope for success as they prepared to begin the coup I had seen again and again.

  Alojz watched them, confusion settling in beside his fear as the scene played out.

  One move from Georg caused the crowd to rise up as one, the assumed success of the coup seemingly imminent.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I sneered as the black drifted from my eyes; albeit, the apparitions surrounding us remained, the scene continuing to play out as the battle rent the stadium apart, blood spilling as those loyal to Edmund began to kill my followers mercilessly, the screams of enjoyment turning to those of fear and death. “Although, it is odd how subjective it all is.”

  With those few words, the scene that surrounded us froze in place, blood freezing in the air as it fell around us like rain, the wide open scream of a woman stitched into memory as it paused.

  Alojz’s fear grew as his vision followed mine, the panic in his eyes drowning him.

  “Isn’t it odd how part of the story can be construed as the whole?” I smiled at him as the vision began to move in reverse, blood rising into the heavens, a scream sucked back into a throat, his friends stalking back toward us, translucent images that moved around us, amongst us, back to where it all had begun. “A reverse usually whispers of warning and certainty. It’s a sign of importance within sight.”

  Once again, the images froze around us, the two Chosen awkwardly posed as they fought; the crowds tarried in cheers. Bronislav and Georg flanked the restrained Alojz, their eyes eager as they spotted the man they were positive they were going to kill before they looked up into the stands toward me.

  “But this time, a reverse means something different.” I smiled.

  Alojz’s focus pulled away from the shadowed images of his friends to me, his eyes widening as they began to move.

  “It means I lied.”

  Eyes fading to black, the scene we were trapped in continued forward. The Trpaslíks stalking to begin the coup, their laugh a hollow sound as my magic brought everything to life, as the battle began again and the blood began to spill.

  This time, it was not the blood of my loyalists as Alojz had assumed. It was the blood of the Trpaslíks. It was my laugh that echoed around the stadium.

  They were losing. There was no way it could be another way. It was a realization that shone clearly within their expressions.

  If only they had not been raised to be the defiant Trpaslíks they were, if only they had a need for self-preservation above that of killing their enemies, their bloodlust making it impossible for them to see.

  So they fought, they bled, and they screamed.

  Magic flew uselessly around them until, one by one, they fell. Lifeless bodies heaped over rubble and carnage, while my stoic figure still stood in the high box of the stadium, not so much as a scratch covering my body.

  I froze the image there, letting it fade away, leaving the three headless corpses on the stone floor and allowing the wide, frightened eyes of the tiny man before me take them in.

  “Did you really think you could defeat a Drak? Did you really think that your silly little games would be enough to defeat me?”

  Alojz’s focus snapped back to me, the dark pupils of his eyes shaking in fear.

  “Your friends will be punished for their wrongdoing. Whether they sense the punishment or not, whether they sense the betrayal, they will fall.”

  I stepped away from him then, walking across the hall and amidst the shadows of his friends. The magic dissolved back into stone at my touch, leaving us standing in the hall once again. Alojz still stood frozen beneath my ever-present magic.

  “As will you. But I don’t think you are going to get away so easily …”

  A deep sound ground from the man’s throat. The desperate attempt to speak, to plead, to beg ripped from him, blocked by the black water burn that plagued him.

  “I’m sorry. What was that?” I asked with a laugh, the sound a gleeful bell that rang over the stone. “It must be something important if you are trying to talk through the pain. Come again?”

  “What …? What … are you g-going …?” he asked, his voice barely able to rise above a whisper due to the control I still had over him.

  “What am I going to do to you?” I filled in the blanks, another laugh following behind.

  I released all of my magic from him, sending him to ground in a heap.

  “That’s quite simple, really. I am going to rip you apart limb from limb and make you bleed. Then I am going to let everyone scream at the sight of you. I am going to destroy you all.”

  OVAILIA

  14

  I didn’t have much time. I urged myself on as I rummaged through the drawers of an old bureau in the king’s suite. Rolls of socks and T-shirts were thrown in so haphazardly it looked like little more than a laundry hamper.

  Sain had gone to trap the traitors and left me here with strict instructions not to leave, something I didn’t take to very kindly.

  Instructions. Demands. I was used to following orders, yes. My entire life had been spent following orders. I strived to serve, to protect. Not to wait around in dark rooms.

  Not to hide, cowering in the shadows like I couldn’t hold my own. As if I couldn’t kill on command or take down an entire coup single-handedly; or couldn’t single-handedly put out a pekelný.

  I had days ago while Sain had been trapped in some sight. I had put out the flames that dozens around me couldn’t even make a dent in. I had devoured some of the strongest magic.

  All while hundreds had watched.

  Hundreds of Chosen and Trpaslíks who had approached me in the shadows had passed scraps of parchment bearing the same few words.

  You should rule.

  Me, not him. Not the filthy man who refused to see what I had accomplished. Refused to use me as the asset, as the strength that I was.

  He didn’t trust me, and that was what bothered me. After everything I had done for him, after everything I had proved, he continued to treat me like a child, like a liability.

  A danger.

  Maybe I was. I surely didn’t trust him. I hadn’t for thousands of years. I had followed him weeks ago because of the power I had seen in him, the strength he had kept hidden from me a devilish secret I couldn’t wait to indulge in.

  Like chocolate and wine.

  However, I hadn’t noticed how the chocolate was moldy and the wine was rancid.

  I hadn’t noticed how the strength I had lusted after, that my magic had trouble controlling itself around, was cracked by madness.

  Something he had made clear.

  “Something a child could accomplish,” I growled to myself, the hatred I felt toward him rotting the words.

  I hated him. I had hated him from the moment I had bonded with him. I had hated him when he had died. And I had hated him more when my f
ather had found him very much alive.

  “I have to find that blade,” I said to myself, my voice crisp. “I have to destroy him.”

  Looking up from the messy drawer at the old mirror that hung above the bureau, I pursed my lips. The ice in my eyes stared back at me. I was as beautiful as ever.

  Smiling at the beauty, at the power in my eyes, I could already see myself plunging that blade into his heart, the same way he had my father. I could already see my magic surging past it as I absorbed his magic and trapped his soul.

  “Now, it’s my turn.” Shuddering in eager pleasure, I pulled myself away from my reflection, my hair falling over the side of my face like a sheet as I turned from the bureau to move toward an old trunk that stood at the foot of our bed.

  No, his bed.

  The bed, the room, the belongings—he had taken them all from my father, from Ilyan. The bloodstains on the carpet were a twisted sign of ownership. Like a dog who pisses on the wall, Sain left trails of blood behind him.

  He needed to be fixed.

  My shouldered stiffened, my lips pursing in anger as I searched with a deeper desperation, ignoring my hair as it fell over my face.

  My heels clicked as I moved to the massive hand-carved wardrobe. I knew it had to be in this room somewhere. There wasn’t anywhere else he would hide it. I didn’t think there was anywhere else he could. I knew it wasn’t on him, and he didn’t trust …

  He didn’t trust me. So why would he put it somewhere I could find it? Why would he put it somewhere that wasn’t secured in some way?

  Eyes drifting out of focus, I froze, hovering over the drawer. The smell of my shampoo was strong in the air as my mind took me right back to when we had first moved into this room a few weeks ago, to him hovering in front a wide stretch of stone, stone that wasn’t quite right.

  His magic hadn’t been quite right.

  I gasped in shock, the sound of my discovery followed by an intake of another kind, one that wasn’t an echo.

  I straightened, turning on the spot as I shut the heavy door with my hip, the loud smack of the ancient wood clamping shut, echoing beyond the still of the room.