Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2)

by Mallory McCartney

  The party was an ember in the distance, pulsing soft light and music crooning to the stars. Only he sought out the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nyx

  Nyx waited in the town square, her breath coming in misty puffs. The new light of dawn peaked over the cottage roofs, washing Pentharrow in brilliant light. It was surprisingly cold this morning, and Nyx tried to stay warm by bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her mouth felt dry and cottony, her headache pounding as she fought her hangover. It had been a lifetime ago since she had reason to celebrate anything.

  Nyx looked at their group: Memphis, Alby, Azarius, Lana and Aella. The rest of Pentharrow was asleep, unaware that the fates of five people were about to irrevocably change. Each one was donned in soft leathers and armed to the teeth.

  It was time. After years of hiding, years of living in fear, it was time to start the beat of their war drum.

  Peeking up at Memphis, her once commander and friend, he looked ashen and taut as he palmed the hilt of his sword. His hair was braided back, his severe features illuminated, but there was a hollowness in his eyes that echoed throughout him, rippling out to her. She wanted to say a thousand things to him, to tell him that no matter what, she would always love him fiercely, that they would be okay. That he would see Emory again, that they would survive this. That she didn’t mean to make such a bad decision.

  Her words clogged her throat, and all she could manage was a breathless whisper, “Ready?”

  Lana looked to her first as Nyx mentally crooned, “Find Brokk, and find him fast, windwalker.”

  Lana gave her a small nod before she looked to them all, dipping her head and touching her brow. “The winds will have your back and may the moon’s light guide you home.” She paused and looked at the dawn of the new day. “You have two minutes before you must depart.”

  Nyx nodded to Lana and winked at Azarius before coming to Alby. “Take care of them, Alb, and keep them in line for me.”

  Amusement sparked in his eyes, clouding the worry that lingered on his features. Standing beside Memphis, Azarius and Alby talked quietly amongst themselves.

  “Ready?” Nyx asked.

  “Not even close,” Memphis replied curtly.

  Her mouth ran dry, and she clamped her teeth down hard, allowing the strangled mass of grief to be pushed down.

  Looking once more at where the group stood, she silently said goodbye, and with her head held high, she turned to Lana, softly saying, “We will see you in a couple of weeks.”

  “By which time we will have built an army that will shake this world,” Lana said confidently.

  They clasped hands, and she broke away first, stalking toward the pastures with Memphis at her heels. He said nothing, just a lingering look before he turned, his complexion paling with every step.

  Weaving in between the quiet houses, the occupants of Pentharrow were still asleep, recovering from the late night’s celebration. Taking two calculated deep breaths and silencing her churning emotions, Nyx focused on their mission ahead: Sweep the Risco Desert. Find allies there and within the Arken Mountains. Survive the Forgotten Bogs. Return within two weeks.

  Then - war.

  Reaching Aella, the peryton raised her majestic head, her iron antlers glinting in the sunlight. Their mount was dressed in fearsome black leather to match their own, her saddle nestled in between her wings. Attaching her supply bag, Nyx softly whispered to the beast, “We won’t lead you astray if you do the same for us.”

  She softly patted her head before climbing up into the saddle, strapping her legs in. Memphis finished tying his bags and then swiftly climbed up behind her, making sure he was secure as well. Her breath came out in quick puffs, adrenaline and fear making her body practically buzz with anticipation.

  The sun crested, rising into the endless sky, and she dug her heels into the beast’s side and hoarsely said, “To the desert first then.”

  Aella roared her reply, spread her impressive wings out, and rose up. Without missing a beat, she started to gallop, the rhythm of her hooves beating into Nyx’s skull. The houses were a blur of colors, the wind screaming around her until all it took was two powerful beats of the wings, and gravity, as she knew it, was abandoned. Memphis clutched her waist tightly as they tipped, climbing higher into the clouds. All around her was an untouched world of mist and light as they left the town behind.

  They broke through the clouds, and her breath was stolen away. Aella circled to steer her course right, and they soared; leaving Nyx entranced by the beauty around her: Pale blue sky kissed the cloud banks, a clash of color erupting as the light hit each crevice. It was untouched and peaceful.

  Nyx loosened a whooping cry which trilled in the endless space. Her blood debts would be paid, her family avenged. The promise of war made her heart pound. Aella, sensing her delight, dove deeply, twirling and swooping through the clouds, making Memphis clutch her tighter. She wolfishly laughed as they surged forward. She was lost in the wind, the light, and the vastness that only the sky could promise.

  ***

  Memphis flicked the match aggressively, snapping it in half again. Perching across their makeshift camp, Nyx watched his struggle, trying not to laugh. He, of course, refused any help, so Aella and she watched with luminous eyes as darkness was trying to take hold. Having flown for hours, the speckled landscape churned and changed beneath them. They had long ago crossed the Academy’s border and were perched on the brink of the Forgotten Bogs. The steamy, humid air clung to their fighting leathers and even Aella snorted heavily, agitated from the climate.

  Sweat rolled off Nyx, and she stood, sighing. “By fire and flame, Memphis, let me help you.”

  His eyes narrowed, and she could already hear his response. Stalking over, she grabbed the match from his shaking hands and swiped surely. The tiny flame sparked to life, dancing between them. Tucking it in the tinder they had gathered, the flames caught, cracking hungrily. Memphis grumbled and seated himself opposite of Aella, watching the fire grow.

  The events of the last few weeks had caught up as Nyx settled in the silence. Pulling out a dried chunk of meat to chew on, she took in the bramble and bushes around them: Rolling hills in the distance were bathed with the fading light, looking like ocean swells from here. She had learned about The Forgotten Bogs as a child, about the story of the woodland people who were legend to be protecting their sacred waters—seers of the Bog, she recalled. It was foretold that the water reflected the future of whoever was daring enough to look through and cunning enough to survive the wrath of the lands. It was myth that the Bogs were ghost lands. Spirits lingering here who were caught in the veil unable to cross over to their final rest.

  A chill rippled through Nyx, and she returned her gaze to the flames. They were just myths. Fables. Ones that had died long ago. Flicking her long braid over her shoulder, she absentmindedly stroked Aella’s soft fur. The land here was strange and harsh, thickets of bramble twisting and churning along the mossy ground. In the distance, a low humming of insects sang softly. It created a white noise, and along with the cackling flames, she felt like a sitting target, wide open, begging someone to find them.

  “We should take cover, douse the flames,” she said in between bites of meat.

  Memphis cocked an eye at her, and his voice reverberated through her mind. “No.” Anger flared within her at the curtness in his tone.

  Huffing, she stood, throwing her arms out. “Memphis, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry you’re here with me? I’m sorry we are part of a Rebellion that has a chance now. That things have changed, and you are out of control? What do you want?”

  Aella flattened her ears back as Nyx’s voice rose. The commander looked like a statue carved out of stone before he flicked his gaze to meet hers. The flames reflected in his eyes. Standing slowly, each movement was sure and emphasized.

  “I want to hear that you’re sorry, and you mean it. That you know that your actions have consequences. That you’re under th
e delusion that while you’re playing warrior our rightful queen is falling further and further away. Emory could get killed being with Adair. She could be lost to us. She probably already is.” His voice broke as he deflated.

  She looked at him, an echo of the man she knew. Recognizing every emotion that flickered across his face and every curve of his body.

  “I am sorry. You have my word that after this is done, we will find her and rescue her,” Nyx replied.

  He glowered. “Don’t lie through your teeth at me. Why would you want to help bring her back? You hate her and always will.”

  His words collided with her, each blow marking: Her blood ran cold as she marched past the flames and up to him. “You listen to me, Memphis Carter, and you listen closely. I hated her because I was jealous that you loved her. But for better or worse, Emory has made her own decisions, and we can do the same. We have a chance to make things right for Black Dawn, Memphis, if you can move past what haunts you. I faced my demons. I know what I did is something that will always stain my soul. Can you say the same?”

  Before Memphis could put in another word, she stalked past him, twisting through the low brambles and twigs. She needed a breather and to leave him to digest her words. Disappearing into the night, she took in a deep breath of the damp air, sweat rolling down her neck and making her agitation grow.

  Who was he to grow angrier and angrier with each passing day? To blame her? Yes, she knew the weight of her actions with Adair, and that had carved a deep gouge within him that could never be healed. His hands were stained with blood just as much as hers.

  The firelight died behind her as the night swooped in. The open sky was sprawled overhead in beautiful constellations twinkling down at her. It was moments like this, when the night was quiet and the whispers of the world faded, that Nyx could dream. Dream of a land untouched by the desires of man, of a land that was wild and untamed, one not scorched and beaten.

  Onward, she walked, hoping to outrun her thoughts. The thick air clung to her, and the smell of stale water and dust hung throughout it. The insects’ hum had quieted, and out of habit, she slid her knife free from her belt. The night was peaceful and undisturbed, but by fire and flame, she wasn’t going to trust the cover of it. Anyone could be watching her.

  The land twisted and curved, her path widening slightly to come to a forked road. The paths here were more distinct, the bramble and trees more spread out and less overpowering. Stopping, Nyx looked behind her to be met with nothing but shadows. There was no trace of the flames in the night; it was as if the camp had been whisked away. You should head back. She hadn’t realized she had come so far, her anger and thoughts propelling her.

  Reaching out to Memphis mentally, Nyx hoped to hear his worried whispers from here, yet she was met with silence. Her brows furrowed in silent concentration. The wind picked up slightly, loosening some stubborn hairs from her braid-they tickled her face. The nape of her neck crawled, her hair standing on end as she slowly turned; her blood roared in her ears as she saw nothing. The two paths stood before her, empty and beckoning, yet she stalled. Something didn’t feel right. She took a step back toward camp when a twig snapped, breaking the silence.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice was hoarse, sounding small even to her. The night had fallen unearthly silent as a figure stepped out onto the road in front of her. Dressed in a thick cloak, she couldn’t make out if it was a man or woman.

  Steeling her nerves, Nyx whispered, “Show yourself.”

  The figure slowly started to wring its hands, clutching some sort of fabric tightly. It twitched back and forth as a small steady drip, drip, drip sounded, landing thickly in front of her. Nyx’s hand shook slightly as she repeated herself, “Show yourself!”

  The figure stopped, and its head slowly rose. Two large luminous eyes stared back at her. Fear held her entranced, even though her senses roared at her to run. The creature started wringing the fabric in its hands again, the rhythm of the dripping acting like the rhythm of a drum. It took a slow step toward her, its cloak billowing in the night.

  A crackling, wheezing sound started as it opened its mouth, singing in a harsh whisper, “Beennighe, beennighe, what have you done? I bring misfortune to all that have come. Beennighe, beennighe, what do you see? I see someone who is about to die in front of me. Beennighe, beennighe, what can you do? I can allow her the chance through. Beennighe, beenighe, why do you cry? I cannot change the day that this world dies.”

  Nyx hands were shaking so violently, she dropped the knife. The beennighe had stalked up to her as she stared into the nothingness of its face. It slowly raised a slender hand to her cheek, and she flinched. Its hand was stained in fresh blood. The creature dropped the fabric at her feet-its breath now warming her cheek.

  “Walk forward to see your future. I grant you a safe passage, but take my warning, Nyx Astire, that as the seasons change and the ice takes over this land, you and I will meet again. Tonight is my gift to you. The spirits slumber, and the night will rest. Your test is to come.”

  The beennighe cupped her face, blood slicking her skin, those luminous eyes filled with ancient sorrow. The wind picked up once more as the creature turned and dissipated in a plume of smoke as if it had never been there.

  Dropping to her knees, Nyx tried to breathe. Focus. Focus. Focus. Her entire body quivered as she dug her nails into the dirt. She needed to inhale. Her blood had turned to ice, a cold sweat having broken out on her skin. The beennighe. A myth as old as these lands, and one she truly wished she didn’t know.

  Nyx quickly glanced up to the fabric in front of her and froze. Despite being coated in blood, the black fabric emblazed with a fiery red sash was all too familiar: It was Adair’s sigil. Kneeling, Nyx picked it up, standing slowly. She choked on her breath and clutched the fabric desperately. The chunk of shirt dissolved to ash in front of her, fear rooting her in place.

  It had been always rumored that the Forgotten Bogs harbored a slumbering magic. One ancient and unrelenting. That the oracles and spirits that roamed these lands could grant great insights or great misfortunes.

  The beennighe was a tale most children shared to frighten each other. A tale of a woman that had been wronged, ripped away from her life too early. She roamed the night bringing her presence to the mortal land of those who were ready to cross over-to join her in the everlasting night. It was always told to Nyx that the beennighe had been a witch who had been betrayed by her children, killed for the powers her body possessed for the price of gold. Her spirit was unhinged and tied to her lands, never resting. And so she forever roamed, choosing her victims to grant either a warning or to steal their lives.

  Nyx lowered her head, closing her eyes as she went into shock. Her world tilted as the iron tang of magic filled her mouth. Myths becoming legends, legends becoming reality. Her stomach rolled viciously as she panted, trying to make sense of it all. The beennighe was the deliverer of death, her presence before her promising that. She was warning her. About Adair? About something that was already happening? Then why was it Adair’s sigil?

  Her mind worked swiftly, repeating what the spirit had said. That they would see each other again, yes, but it was no mistake to grant her the option to glimpse into the oracles, nor was it a mistake that it was Adair’s sigil that was presented to her. Her skin crawled as her heart pounded. The wind had begun to stir again, the orchestra of the night coming back to life.

  Glancing up, she looked to the forked path, the curving way to her left illuminated with lazy fireflies. They swooped and danced before her in a hypnotic way, beckoning her onward. You could know what will happen. If this cause is doomed or if there is a promise of a future. If it is all for nothing. It was a great weight, the power of knowledge.

  Gripping the pommel of her knife, she stood on shaking legs. Her chest heaved as she centered herself, trying desperately to push the presence of the Beennighe out of her mind. Nyx would deal with that later and figure out the omen’s cryptic message. For now, t
hough, her decision awaited her.

  Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she spotted the soft glow of the fire behind her. This place is playing tricks with you. The camp lay behind and forward...forward could grant great pain or great solace. Either way, it would be answers. Her blood hummed with pleasure as she took a step, the wind seemingly whispering for her to continue.

  As if in a trance, she walked forward, the heavy blanket of magic surrounding her, shielding her. Picking up her pace, fireflies circled her—guiding her. It was a darkly beautiful place, and she was enthralled by it, wanting to learn its secrets. At first, it was the distant sound of heavy wings, but then in a flurry of movement, Aella landed brusquely in front of her with Memphis perched on her back, frowning disapprovingly. The peryton pawed at the ground, nervously huffing at Nyx while bowing her iron antlers toward her chest.

  Jumping off, Memphis rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

  Nyx stopped, taking him in. Worry pinched his features while his skin was slick with sweat.

  “Nyx! What happened? This one over here was raising alarm at the camp.” He jabbed his thumb at Aella who was poised, stopping her from moving an inch forward. It was a standoff, and one she was not going to win. She clenched her fists once, twice. Both of her companions wore equal expressions of worry as she said nothing. The clamber of magic in the air and in her was slowly ebbing away. Along with the access the oracles, to answers.

  Memphis hissed pointedly, “Nyx.”

  It took every fiber in her body, every ounce of her strength to clear her face of any stress and breathe. “Nothing happened. I thought I saw something.”

  Her core quaked, and the night seemed to exhale: this place was acknowledging her dismissal. She would take the spirit’s warning, but nothing could compel her to look in those pools. Even though that dark part inside of her crooned to know. Would kill to know.

  With shaking hands, she picked up her weapon, Aella following her every movement with her doe eyes. Stiffly, she turned her back, leaving her companions to follow. Their stares burned into her back, and she knew in a second that she hadn’t convinced them. The faster they maneuvered through this place, the better. Even now, her pulse thrummed with the need to cave into the ancient magic.