Ashes (The Firebird Trilogy Book 1)

by Stephanie Harbon

  “Sexy,” he smirked sarcastically, despite everything.

  I demanded to see his back. He shrugged and turned, taking off his shirt. When I realised the extent of the wounds I gasped. It was horrible; how could he even stand up? I had been right. Like the marks on the foreheads of the bodies on the Wall, it had been two identical symbols that they’d cut into Kieran’s flesh. I couldn’t decipher the gruesome marks but I knew that one had been meant for me. I knew they were deep enough to need tough stitches.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

  He frowned at me as if I was mentally incompetent, “Obviously.”

  “Well, it was a stupid thing to do,” I told him seriously. “I could have taken my own. You know I could have.” I scolded him, suddenly angry. “You don’t always have to play hero.”

  His eyes narrowed, “I don’t play anything. I’m just naturally this selfless.”

  I was definitely annoyed now. “Why did you have to do that? Was it to make me feel worse?” I interrogated him furiously, “because if you did then congratulations because it worked.”

  He glared at me. “I can’t believe you’re yelling at me for doing something to help you,” he said bitterly.

  “It didn’t help me,” I stated, “It just made me feel awful.”

  “Not everything’s about you, you know.” He was annoyed.

  “Not everything’s about you either.” I countered.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  I glared right back, “Nothing’s wrong with me,” I retorted, “I just hate it when people underestimate me. I should have taken my own punishment. I knew what I was doing when I attacked that woman. I’m not a child.”

  I was remembering things now. Horrible memories flooded back, of arrogant Elders and children throwing rocks at me in the street, trying to provoke me to see what I would do. Everyone thought I couldn’t control myself. That my determination was in vain because inevitably I would fail just like my dead siblings. My mother certainly thought that; she took me away from this place, away from my home, just because she thought I couldn’t handle the Change. I was stronger then, stronger than I had been yesterday, and I still managed to Rise. I was strong… but nobody believed me.

  Kieran’s expression softened in understanding. “I didn’t want you to go through that for something that was my fault.”

  I frowned, “But it wasn’t your fault. You had no choice but to fight them.”

  His brilliant green eyes dimmed in shadow, his face abruptly hardening again. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  So what did he mean? Oh my God, is it a natural phenomenon that all men are idiots; even the supernatural ones? If it weren’t for the threat of extinction, we could survive far better without them. Kieran stomped off.

  I flinched as I caught a glimpse of his scathed back, but quickly followed him, carefully avoiding rocks and uneven surfaces. After about five minutes of tiptoeing over pebbled road with bare feet, we reached a shallow river which we followed to the top of the valley, mostly through large farming fields filled with crop.

  “Oh,” Kieran remembered suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, withdrawing my mother’s gold chain, “I forgot to give you this, it survived the flames. Found it on top of your Ashes.”

  What a weird thought. I was once Ashes. I took the chain gratefully, thanking him. It was the same as it was before, the same individual links decorated with ancient runes that I couldn’t decipher. They looked burnt into the metal. I put it around my neck, it felt lighter, no longer bearing the weight of the red stone; or what I thought had been a red stone.

  “What did Lynk mean?” I asked Kieran “When he said about organising me a celebration or something?”

  Kieran slowed his fast pace, sighing and dropping back beside me. “It’s a tradition,” he explained, “that Royalty have a big celebration when they’ve Changed and invite everyone. It’s a public event-“

  “Wait,” I interrupted, “Royalty?” I demanded, “You never told me that.”

  “Well it’s the equivalent I guess. The word ‘High’ here essentially means Royal,” he explained. “There’s a Royal family for each Tribe. The Ashaiks are Earth.” As he said this I remembered with a spark of surprise what his name was. “The Falton’s are Water, Carbeck’s are Air. And the Swartettes are Fire.” His eyes shifted to me in that instant. “That’s you.”

  My mouth gaped open in shock as he stared-very seriously-at me. “Me?” I asked incredulously, the thought just seemed ludicrous. I’m not even sure I am a Phoenix, never mind a Royal one.

  “Yeah,” he said bitterly, “hence why Lynk’s on the High Council.”

  Eventually we arrived before a massive house high up on the valley ledge, the main city glowed beneath me. It was a very eccentric Palace, something straight from a Tim Burton film. Complete with black marble columns, gothic twisted roof and arched looming windows with velvet curtains, it was all spires and points; reminding me of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

  “This place is creepy,” I commented as Kieran appeared beside me.

  “Try living here,” he muttered. I noticed for the first time, past the long porch boarded with a wood so dark it appeared black; the name Ashaik was inscribed in swirling Karisian symbols–in the common language.

  “You lived here? But it’s…well, creepy.” I protested and he laughed, wincing when the movement hurt him. I hastily asked, “Why are we here? Is this where we’re staying?” I shuddered at the thought.

  “No,” he answered curtly, walking forward with hurried steps. “And keep quiet; you’re not technically welcome here.”

  I followed him up some creaking wooden steps, they groaned miserably as my weight disturbed them. Kieran knocked on the door and almost instantaneously a woman appeared. Before she could say anything, Garnha shuffled her aside, telling her to stay in the other room. She called her ‘slave’ and it shocked me at how casually she pronounced the word.

  Garnha was wearing an elegant silk dress that seemed too fine and expensive to wear during the day. Her shimmering straight locks were pulled into a high plait, emphasising her prominent cheekbones. Her sparkling emerald eyes looked tired. I think I even saw a few fine wrinkles fanning shallowly from the corner of her eyes now that the sunlight allowed me to see her properly. Other than the obvious exhaustion, she looked incredible for her age. Not that I could guess accurately what it was.

  She hurriedly rushed us inside, leading us down a long, dimly illuminated corridor and into a room. It was plain except for a wooden table in the centre, surrounded by various cupboards.

  Garnha pulled out a chair and gestured for Kieran to sit down, he did, reluctantly. Then she rummaged in a cupboard and brought down some white cloths; handing me one. “Would you remove some of the excess blood from his wounds?” she asked calmly. “I just need to fetch my equipment.”

  I nodded, “Do you want me to wet it?” I asked. It felt weird. Last time I met her I’d been much in need of medical intervention and Kieran had automatically become helper. Now it was the other way around.

  Picking up a glass bottle with a cork lid and no label, she handed it to me. “Just pour a little of this on it. It’ll sterilise the cuts.”

  She walked out of the room. Sighing, I made my way over to Kieran.

  He grinned mischievously at me, those white teeth flashing unexpectedly. “I would say, Miss Ruby, that you should be wearing a naughty little nurse uniform, but considering how little you already have on, I’d rather you stay like that.” He was trying to irritate me.

  “Watch it,” I warned as I opened the bottle and pressed the cloth against it, allowing the liquid to momentarily absorb into the soft white fabric, like nail varnish remover on cotton wool, without the nasty smell.

  “I will,” he answered, his gaze sweeping intimately up my bared legs.

  I blushed uncontrollably, shuddering under his gaze. This he noticed and smirked arrogantly. “I think the bl
ood loss has gone to your head,” I muttered; he was actually flirting with me. Going round behind him, I told him to take off his shirt.

  “You’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?” He said, slowly tearing off the shredded remnants of his shirt, all teasing evaporating from his features.

  As gently as I could, I began to dab at the deep wounds. He winced a lot, his muscles contracting and making the pain worse. But he never complained. My sore wrists throbbed as I delicately dabbed at the gruesome wounds. It was a good thing I wasn’t squeamish. His back was really damaged, it would scar. At least it had stopped bleeding.

  “How bad is it?” he asked breathlessly, like he’d just run a marathon.

  I frowned; the truth was it was really, really bad. His back was swelling and patchy, the skin around his deepest marks upraised and inflamed bright red. “It’s just a little scratch,” I lied unconvincingly, “barely noticeable.”

  Kieran glanced at me, a strange flicker in his eyes.

  At that point Garnha returned, carrying more bottles and bandages. I quickly moved out of her way and leaned against the wall. I watched, bizarrely intrigued, as Garnha edged closer to Kieran. She deposited the bottles on the table, and then professionally finished cleaning up the wounds.

  “Kierakai, why are there two marks?” She wondered suspiciously. Then her face quickly sparked in comprehension. She glanced pointedly at me. “You took hers.”

  “I did.” He agreed, “Hence the lack of wounds on Ruby’s back.”

  Garnha let out a frustrated breath. “Well that was stupid,” she scolded angrily, “Now they’ll think that there’s something going on between you two. That isn’t making this situation any easier,” she sighed exasperatedly, her eyes darting from the two of us, then they narrowed, “There isn’t anything going on, is there?”

  Automatically Kieran responded, “Of course there isn’t,” I felt my stomach drop at the resentment in his voice. “I know what happens to those who break the Laws of the High Covenant.” The image of the mutilated pregnant woman on the Wall flooded into my head with a painful flair.

  She spoke with a calm dignity, “But does she?” she wondered philosophically, “This isn’t her world, Kierakai.”

  Kieran opened his mouth to speak but I quickly intercepted him, “I know the Law too,” I told her honestly, then shuddered. “I’ve seen the Wall.”

  She nodded finally, accepting my words more than her son’s.

  “We need to hurry,” she said, quickly smearing some more blue liquid onto Kieran’s back, “your father will be home from the High Council soon.”

  “That stings,” he grumbled moodily.

  “Good. Maybe you’ll think twice next time.” Garnha retorted.

  “Your Dad’s with the Council?” I asked.

  They both looked up at me.

  Kieran answered slowly, “No he’s in the High Council.”

  My heart quivered as I remembered the salt-and-pepper haired man with those hostile eyes that had reminded me of Adrian. His brown skin was like Kieran’s. I gaped in understanding. “The one who told the warriors to get Tulbeck,” I realised, horrified. No wonder he and Adrian had wanted to leave.

  “That’s the one,” Kieran confirmed savagely.

  Garnha laughed humourlessly, “Be grateful you’re not married to him.”

  I wondered why the hell was she married him. I guessed she had no choice.

  Garnha warned Kieran, “There will be no exercise for at least a week. I will only heal the top layer; it’ll split if you’re not careful. That means no running, no flying, and no fighting-”

  “-And no fun,” he finished, nodding reluctantly.

  I watched as Garnha rhythmically muttered words and swept her hands across Kieran’s broad back without actually touching him. I gasped as the raw indentations slowly began to glow. Garnha’s palms, as I observed, slowly became covered in spiralling tattoos that glowed darkly and gradually closed the wounds. Eventually the wound subsided into mere glistening scars.

  “Wow,” I breathed, “That’s incredible! Is that what you did to me?” I blurted unthinkingly to Kieran.

  “You did what?” Garnha exploded, her eyes darting to Kieran’s guilty face.

  Oh shit. I’d forgotten healing was High Treason too.

  He frowned at me, “Sometimes, I really do want to seal you inside a shipping container.”

  I pulled an apologetic face, muttering oops. Garnha looked as if she was going to blow up. She opened her mouth but the creaking of heavy feet on the porch steps halted her words. We all froze. Then in a blindingly fast movement Garnha swooped up the bottles on the table and hastily shoved them in a cupboard. Shuffling us desperately out the room, she ordered, “Go out the back way and take some horses from the stables or something; no flying. I’ll distract him. No riding after this, watch your back, and don’t think that this means you’re getting out of anything Kierakai.” She frowned before rushing in the opposite direction. No goodbyes. No affection. Nothing.

  My heart was pounding louder than my footsteps as I followed Kieran through intricately designed corridors. There were so many, like the bewildering hallways in a large hospital or Pan’s labyrinth.

  We came to an abrupt dead end.

  Kieran swore under his breath. I looked, terrified, at him. What would his father do if he found us here? I knew that he was a violent revengeful man, and now we were all alone, without any witnesses, who knew what he would do. I could tell from Kieran’s reaction it wouldn’t be to throw a party.

  We heard footsteps down the hall.

  Kieran shoved me into the nearest room. Luckily there was nobody inside and there was a window. Yanking it open he gestured for me to go first. My eyes widened at the tiny gap. Without hesitation Kieran lifted me into his strong arms, unceremoniously shoving me through the small space. My arms scraped against the wooden frame.

  I landed ungracefully on my bum, quickly shoving down the hideous dress as it had ridden up, exposing a little too much. In any other situation I would have felt extremely embarrassed but we didn’t have time. I quickly stood up as Kieran forced himself through. Running, we headed towards a large out building which I guessed was the stables. Entering I was shocked to discover half a dozen stalls all filled with horses. Phoenix rode horses?

  Kieran spotted a particular horse, a chestnut mare.

  “Hey sugar,” he greeted, “how have you been?” She recognised him instantly, braying and snorting excitedly. He looked over his shoulder, pointing to a misty-grey horse, “Take Shadow, he was Adrian’s but he didn’t want him after he got Amber.”

  I hurried over to the horse. He was a beautiful creature; his coat a light grey freckled with a darker colour. As I got closer he stepped eagerly forward, letting me stroke his long pretty face. How something so obviously gentle and caring could not be wanted, I had no idea.

  “He’s lovely,” I observed, “Why didn’t Adrian want him?”

  Kieran was handing me a saddle and various other riding equipment, “Do you know what to do?” he asked and I nodded, instantly beginning to saddle the waiting horse. I was glad I had volunteered to help out my friend Abby with her horses when she went on holiday; otherwise I would have been absolutely clueless. As Kieran prepared his own horse he explained, “He’s not a war horse, he was built for endurance rather than strength.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  After a few intense moments we were ready.

  Climbing onto Shadow’s back I petted his groomed neck, tentatively encouraging him forward. Kieran was on his mare already, his horse was quite a bit larger than mine, obviously built for battle, but mine had the speed and freeness of a young stallion. We rode out of the stables and galloped off. Following Kieran up the garden, I realised that my apparel was not suited for horse-riding. My bare legs slipped continually and I was extremely uncomfortable, my lack of pants and a good sports bra to blame.

  We rode our way towards a forest, following a path. Now we had reache
d camouflage I felt safer and we slowed to a trot. I petted my lovely horse admiringly, “Thank you, gorgeous, it’s much appreciated.”

  “Any time,” Kieran said.

  “I was talking to the horse.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m allergic to bullshit.”

  “That’s strange, because that’s all that seems to come from your mouth.”

  “Okay, I’ve changed my mind, keep talking to the horse.”

  Once we were through the trees we slowly made our way down the valley, every now and then spotting houses amongst the beautiful scenery. About twenty minutes later we crossed a couple of fields filled with caramel-colour crops that danced in the breeze. It must have been late afternoon because the sun was dipping low in the sky. In the distance I spotted a cottage just past a field of grape vines. We waded through the vineyard carefully, trying not to stand on blooming plants, heading towards the little building nestled deep in a sea of green. It was adorable.

  It was like Anne Hathaway’s cottage in Stratford-upon-Avon, except this roof was tiled and not thatched. It was all cream walls coated in intertwining ivy, tasteful wooden beams, bright tulips in patches with other fragrant flowers, and general cuteness. It wasn’t a massive place, but it had charm and a welcome feel to the air. Kieran led the horses to the side of the building, to a fenced off area which I soon realised was a field with a little stable. It looked nothing at all like I expected a Phoenix home to look.

  “Where are we?” I wondered.

  Kieran smiled unexpectedly, “This is Ebony’s place.”

  “Whose?” I asked.

  “Ebony’s,” Kieran repeated. I frowned.

  Leaving the horses, we rounded the side of the home, stopping at a wooden door. There were flowers carved expertly into the wood, interlacing vines that curled artistically with pointed leaves, adorning the simple entrance. Kieran lifted his hand to knock but before his fist touched the door it burst open. A small woman charged through, throwing her arms around Kieran.