Reign of Ash

by Gail Z. Martin

  “And now things are so bad that they’ve come out of hiding?” Piran said, casting a skeptical glance at the man who waited for them in the cellar at Glenreith. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “They’re here with Penhallow and Connor,” Blaine replied. “That means, at least in this matter, they’re on our side.”

  “Uh-huh,” Piran said, unwilling to give in, but he fell silent as they grew closer.

  Penhallow and Connor stood with Niklas and a man Blaine did not recognize. All four men looked as if they had come from battle. Niklas was singed and sooty. Connor’s cloak had been cut in places, and his shirt was spattered with blood. He looked rougher than Blaine remembered, unshaven, with the haggard look of a man who has seen the worst of battle and returned with nightmares. Penhallow looked as coolly unruffled as ever, but his clothing was muddy and torn, and the ruddiness of his complexion told Blaine that the talishte had recently fed well.

  Blaine looked Nidhud over. He was solidly built, with strong shoulders and a thick neck, his dark hair cut short for battle. Blaine had seen the style of uniform that Nidhud wore in the mosaics and murals at the lyceum, but it was still a shock to see one of the legendary Knights in the flesh.

  Nidhud met Blaine’s gaze, and it was clear the Knight was taking Blaine’s measure as well. “Lord McFadden,” Nidhud said with a curt nod.

  Maybe someday I’ll get used to answering to that, Blaine thought.

  “Sir Knight,” Blaine replied, meeting the talishte’s gaze. “Welcome to Glenreith.”

  “Penhallow tells me you’re the last living Lord of the Blood,” Nidhud said, his voice matter-of-fact.

  “Yes.”

  Nidhud seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded. “You seem to have made some powerful enemies.”

  Blaine managed a cold chuckle. “That’s the story of my life,” he replied. “We’re grateful for your support in the battle. But tell me: How does my being the last Lord of the Blood concern the Knights of Esthrane?”

  “I believe the real question is: What are you willing to risk to find Vigus Quintrel?” Nidhud asked.

  The cellar room had been outfitted for talishte occupation shortly after Blaine’s arrival, when they had expected Penhallow to show up any day. A worn table with several battered chairs sat to one end of the room, while a few cots and more comfortable chairs were arranged toward the other end.

  “Sounds like we have a lot to talk about,” Blaine said. “Please, have a seat.” He paused. “Have you eaten?”

  Penhallow smiled. “Nidhud and I have fed well, thank you. But I would imagine Connor is quite hungry after the battle.”

  Blaine could see the blood on Connor’s shirt and surmised that not all of it came from Connor’s foes, but he just nodded. He turned and spoke a word to one of the guards who had accompanied them down to the cellar, and the man went to retrieve food for Connor.

  They sat down around the table, and Blaine listened in silence as Niklas described the battle from his perspective. “Just when we really thought we’d been outmanned, it was like someone had dropped a pack of wildcats into the middle of the enemy army,” Niklas said with a grin. “We didn’t know at first whether we’d found new friends or a different enemy, but either way, it spelled trouble for Pollard.”

  “I wish we could claim exceptional foresight,” Penhallow said, taking up the story, “but as with most military victories, chance played a role. The truth is, Connor and Nidhud and I were on our way to Glenreith when we happened upon the battle. When it became clear that Vedran Pollard was involved, we made it our business.”

  “Glad for the help,” Niklas said. He leaned back in his chair, and Blaine could see how weary his friend looked.

  “We’ve had our own adventures aplenty since I left you, if you want to call nearly getting killed every other day an adventure,” Connor said. “But I’ve brought back the map and disk I had in Edgeland, and all but a few of the other thirteen.”

  Connor withdrew a small locked box and set it on the table. When he opened the lock, Blaine could see a pile of the smooth obsidian disks inside. “We’ve also got a former mage-scholar with us, Treven Lowrey. He stayed behind with some guards when we realized there would be fighting. He’ll join us here tomorrow.” Connor looked at Blaine. “You’ll want to hear him out, Mick. Between Nidhud and Treven, I think we’ve got a fix on how to find Vigus Quintrel.”

  “A matter in which Connor also plays a role,” Penhallow added. Connor looked away, and Blaine wondered at his sudden look of discomfort. “It appears that Quintrel left some clues hidden in Bevin’s memory without asking permission to do so, a liberty that has put Bevin in quite a bit of danger.”

  “Thanks to Quintrel, I can read his godsdamned coded writing and find the trail of bread crumbs he left to lead us to him – and the way to restore the magic,” Connor said with an edge in his voice.

  “There’s more,” Penhallow said quietly. “Connor is a medium.”

  Kestel frowned. “So you can hear spirits?”

  Connor grimaced. “More than hear them. I see them more easily than other people, and they can communicate with me. If they’re strong enough, they can take over my body.”

  Kestel met his gaze. “Do you get anything to say about that?”

  “Not always.” It was impossible to miss the touch of bitterness in his voice.

  Penhallow cleared his throat. “We’ve also gained a new ally: Kierken Vandholt, the Wraith Lord. He has provided invaluable help.”

  “And nearly killed me twice,” Connor muttered.

  Zaryae had been quiet. She was dressed in muted colors, not at all like the flamboyant appearance she affected in her performances. She looked at Connor with understanding and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “A medium’s gift carries a heavy price,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. “Mediums don’t control the possession, and they have few protections if a spirit decides to move in and stay. Hosting the spirit takes a toll on the body and mind.” She gave a reproving glance toward Penhallow. “There’s a reason most mediums die young.” Zaryae paused. “I may be able to help you learn to control your gift, show you ways to protect yourself.”

  “Thank you.” Connor looked down. “I’d give my life to bring back the magic,” he said quietly. “I swore that I would do my part, and I will. I just prefer to be myself when I’m doing it, if you know what I mean.” He paused. “Even if the Wraith Lord does fight a damn sight better than I do.”

  Penhallow nodded. “Understood.”

  Connor and Penhallow made a succinct report of all that they had seen and learned. When they finished, the others took a few moments to digest the new information.

  “If it’s true that we have a better chance if we work the ritual on the solstice, we don’t have much time,” Blaine said. “That’s a little more than a week away. I’ve got maps that we think may show us where to go, but Valshoa is quite a distance from here. It will take most of that time just to get there – assuming we can find it when we arrive, and that we can figure out how to work the ritual once we’re there.”

  “Lowrey seems to believe the solstice would be auspicious,” Penhallow replied. “I defer to him on matters of magic.”

  “Some of the surviving Knights retreated to Valshoa when we were exiled,” Nidhud said. He met Blaine’s gaze. “It’s quite possible they extended sanctuary to Vigus Quintrel and his refugee mages. If so, Quintrel left clues so Penhallow could find him. And a cipher,” he added with a look at Connor.

  “If the Knights retreated to Valshoa, does that mean you can lead us there?” Kestel asked Nihud, leaning forward expectantly.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Nidhud said. “When the Knights fled the king’s persecution, we split into groups to avoid our persecutors.” He paused. “My group fled to the lyceum, and when we feared discovery, we went farther into the hills to the west until the Wraith Lord called to us. But I believe that, with the maps and the other clues you have fou
nd, I may know enough that I can greatly increase your odds of success.”

  Nidhud’s eyes gleamed with battle fire. “And I can think of another way in which we may be of help. My troops are quite prepared to battle Pollard’s men. I propose that we draw them off, present a distraction, to buy Blaine and his party a chance to get a head start toward the mountains.”

  Niklas grinned. “While my men accompany him – leaving a force behind to guard Glenreith, of course,” he said with a quick glance toward Judith.

  “An excellent suggestion,” Penhallow said as he stood. “Now, since it is quite late even by mortal standards, I suggest that we adjourn until Treven joins us.”

  Blaine turned to Connor. In the weeks since they had parted company in the battle at Penhallow’s crypt, Connor seemed to have aged several years. When he had arrived as a shipwreck survivor in Edgeland a few months ago, Connor struck Blaine as young and untested. Blaine had admired Connor’s grit for enduring the perilous sea journey and for throwing himself into the dangerous business of the maps, but he had wondered whether it was the first time Connor had ever faced grief and hardship.

  Now there was a world-weariness in Connor’s expression that had not been present before. He had seen it in Velant’s youngest, least dangerous convicts as they lost the last of their innocence. Blaine was sure Niklas had seen such a change as well in young soldiers returning from their first real battle. Whatever had befallen Connor since their parting, it had changed him, hardened something deep inside. And right now, Connor looked tired enough to fall asleep where he sat.

  “Why not leave the cellar to the talishte?” Blaine asked Connor. “We’ve got empty rooms upstairs. You look like you could use a good day’s sleep.”

  Connor had finished the cheese, bread, and dried meat that Edward had brought, but he still looked as if he had skipped a few regular meals on the road to Glenreith. He gave Blaine a grateful, tired smile. “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

  Penhallow nodded approvingly. “Go. Spend some time in the sun,” he said with a smile that might have held a touch of envy. “You’ve seen quite a bit of cellars and tunnels lately.”

  “That doesn’t cover it by half,” Connor muttered, but his voice held no rancor. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

  “I know,” Penhallow said. “Now get some rest. I dare say such opportunities are likely to be limited.”

  Connor followed Blaine, Kestel, and Piran up the stairs to the main part of the manor. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have arrived here in one piece,” he said.

  Kestel threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Piran clapped him on the shoulder. “We weren’t so sure you’d be coming,” Piran said.

  “I imagine you’ve got quite a story to tell,” Blaine added. “We’ve been busy, too. But all that can wait until tomorrow, when your mage shows up.”

  Connor stifled a yawn, stretched, and looked around as the group emerged from below stairs into the main part of the manor and walked toward the large front hall. “So Engraham was right – you really are a lord,” Connor said, taking in the entranceway.

  “Fortunately the manor is in better shape than the Rooster and Pig,” Blaine said. “Welcome to Glenreith, the place I spent twenty years trying to run away from and then crossed an ocean to come home to.”

  “I’ve seen enough of what’s left of Castle Reach to know that you’re lucky Glenreith is still standing,” Connor said as they headed up the steps.

  Blaine stopped in front of one of the empty bedrooms and opened the door. He was not surprised that Edward had anticipated his invitation, and they found the room freshly made up, the bed turned down, and a clean towel and nightshirt laid out next to a pitcher of water and basin.

  “Once again, I’m in your debt for a roof over my head,” Connor said, yawning broadly.

  “Think of it as the new homestead,” Kestel said. “Now go,” she commanded, “before these two keep you up talking any longer. There will be time enough when you’re rested. We’ll make sure to save plenty of food for you, so get some sleep.”

  Connor gave a tired bow. “As you wish, m’lady Kestel,” he said, and for the first time, the smile that touched his lips reached his eyes. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to tell tales.”

  Just after sunset, the dining room at Glenreith hosted the first large gathering it had seen in all the years since Blaine’s exile. The heavy draperies were drawn to cover the windows, though it was full dark outside. Judith and Edward had conspired with the manor’s remaining staff to muster a meal of venison, roasted parsnips, and baked apples washed down with plenty of wine. For the talishte, flagons of deer blood were sufficient to slake thirst. Although Blaine had apologized profusely to his aunt for the added strain on the household’s slim resources, Judith had brushed off his protests with the wave of her hand, and Blaine thought she actually seemed to be enjoying hosting the closest thing Glenreith had seen to a party in many a year.

  Penhallow and Geir sat with Lowrey. Nidhud represented the contingent of the Knights who had arrived with Penhallow. Niklas and Ayers were present on behalf of the soldiers, and Illarion, Zaryae, Borya, and Desya came at Blaine’s invitation. Blaine, Kestel, Piran, Verran, and Dawe sat with Connor, directly across the table from Penhallow. Judith, ever the gracious hostess, ate with the group and kept conversation on a lighter note, then tactfully withdrew, as did Mari.

  When they had finished their meal, Blaine rose. “If we stand any chance of finding and reaching Valshoa before the solstice, we need to put together the information we’ve gathered and make a plan.” He looked out over the assembled group.

  Lowrey peered over his spectacles at Blaine. “Does he always worry this much?”

  Kestel stifled a laugh. Piran sighed. “Actually, for Mick, this is pretty relaxed.”

  Penhallow looked as if he was holding back a smile. “Blaine is correct: We have an urgent task and a pressing deadline. Made more so by the fact that our destination is a matter of legend.”

  Nidhud looked to Blaine. “Let’s get the maps and disks out onto the table. Then we’ll know what we’ve got to work with.”

  Kestel laid out Ifrem’s map as well as the map and map fragment they had found at the lyceum. Verran laid the disks they had gathered next to the maps, and Connor carefully withdrew his map and disks, laying them alongside.

  Connor added to the trove with the other disks they had discovered, until twelve of the thirteen disks lay before them. From a worn backpack, Lowrey added the most important books they had found, the ones that contained Quintrel’s clues. Kestel added the manuscripts from the lyceum, and Connor eyed these last items warily.

  Blaine and his friends recounted the stories behind their finds, with Zaryae and Illarion jumping in to add to the tale. When they finished, Connor told of their adventures.

  Kestel studied the new disks intently, while Verran tried to decode the markings by comparing them to the maps. When everyone had had a chance to examine the items, Blaine looked to Lowrey and Nidhud.

  “What do you make of it, now that you’ve heard everything?” Blaine asked.

  “Not quite everything,” Connor said. With a sigh, he looked to the items that had been retrieved from the lyceum. “Give them here. If they’re going to wallop me, I might as well get it over with.”

  Connor sat down, and Piran slid the wood-bound collection of manuscripts toward him. Connor closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to prepare himself, then spread his right hand and laid it palm down on the wooden cover.

  The reaction was immediate. Connor’s posture stiffened, but his expression took on a trancelike look. “You’ve done well to find this,” Connor said in a distracted tone, as if an invisible someone were speaking in his ear and Connor was repeating what he heard. “If you have found the other pieces to the puzzle, you are close to having all you need.”

  “Can he answer questions when he’s like this?” Kestel whispered to Lowrey.

&nb
sp; Lowrey frowned, thinking, then shook his head. “No. It’s more like Quintrel planted notes and clues in his mind. It’s not a connection to Quintrel himself, just memories – more’s the pity.”

  “Valtyr’s maps of the Continent and the stars work together. If you desire to restore the magic, follow the stars to the hidden city. Bring the disks and one of the Blood. The Remnant awaits you.” Connor went silent, and a moment later, he seemed to come back to himself with a shake.

  “Was any of that useful?” he asked.

  Kestel patted his arm. “You’ve confirmed what we suspected: The star map combined with the map of the power places on the Continent will lead us to Valshoa.”

  “I hate to say it, but there’s another item that Connor should probably see as well,” Blaine said. He slid the leather journal toward Connor.