Storm of Ash

by Michelle Kenney

  But most of all I saw a feral girl, with the future spinning in her hands.

  ‘Gua … rds … stop … her.’ But Cassius’s voice was nothing more than a pitiful croak, pierced by Max’s hunting aim.

  His dark eyes blazed with fury as he clenched a hand to his bleeding neck, trying to calm his rearing griffin before he wreaked his revenge on Max.

  My eyes sought him out hunched on the ground, his head twisted up to watch, his forest-greens locked with mine. Their light told me he was already among the trees, shadowing me as we flew with the sun at our backs. And I smiled fiercely, holding him tight one last time before I drew my blade across my wrist, releasing a rivulet of blood that fell like tears onto Lake’s scales, before trickling in beside her protruding canines. Then I lifted my eyes and whispered the only words left.

  ‘Feral means free.’

  They were just loud enough for the angels and Lake to hear, just clear enough for Cassius’s expression to twist to terror and just long enough to know Grandpa was smiling – before she opened her jaws and scorched the earth clean.

  Chapter 26

  We soared together, Lake and I, until the Dead City of Isca was sketched out so far below us it looked little more than a map of old ruins. I could just make out the North Tower of the cathedral standing proud of its crumbling surroundings, and yet there were still too many ghosts.

  I was so close to heaven, so close to the tendrils of dawn breaking through the clouds I thought perhaps I could touch them. I closed my eyes to try, but there was nothing but the pounding of blood, ancient feral blood.

  For now, at least, it seemed I was still mortal.

  Our descent reminded me as much, and as my blood warmed so did the realization that while Lake’s quake had devastated as far as the eye could see, Cassius’s legacy remained in all its domed glory.

  ‘Take me back,’ I thought, feeling a ripple of reptilian muscle in answer.

  Our communication was silent, a primeval instinct or seventh sense, blood bonded by a unique twist and the one thing Cassius didn’t consider, our shared humanity.

  We flew down and landed south of the Dead City, the vast walls of the domes dwarfed by Lake’s titian magnificence in the early sun.

  And as I looked up at their clinical rise, at the pristine walls that had hidden so many secrets, I felt the rise of Lake’s fury as keenly as my own. I knew instinctively what she wanted to do, and the reason why she hadn’t relinquished her draco-chimera nature yet.

  She was barely ever allowed above ground because of her strength and aggression, August’s voice echoed, and when she got there, she unleashed her fury by breaking her chains and devouring the spectators.

  My consciousness had become a stream of images, and I knew Lake was seeing them too: Arafel, Pan, Aelia’s sacrifice, Jas, Max’s heroism, and Unus, Mum, Eli, August … How could I even hope that any of them were still alive?

  I stretched out a hand, its span not even as wide as one of her iridescent scales, and knew I had this one chance. To avenge them all.

  And Lake was ready to do exactly as I bid.

  Come what may, nature finds a way, Talia … Care for the seed and it will care for you … Hunters take only what they need to survive …

  The ghosts of Arafel began filling my head, filling Lake’s head, clamouring for mercy.

  For happiness, heart and head must agree.

  ‘But he stole everyone I ever loved.’

  I wasn’t even sure I’d spoken the words aloud as I looked up into Lake’s eyes. The sun was dancing in them, reflecting movement around the curved wall of the largest dome. Behind us. I turned, shielding my eyes as a small figure appeared.

  It was a young man, with onyx eyes and a familiar stride.

  ‘Atticus,’ I whispered in amazement as a long line of Prolets and Pantheonites appeared behind him, carrying small children and scant possessions.

  He paused three oak trees from me, every inch of his proud face asking a question he wouldn’t or couldn’t actually voice.

  I shook my head. He knew anyway – I could tell.

  He dropped his gaze to his feet before raising it again. He’d led the young Prolet uprising and helped Aelia, Rajid and Grey to infiltrate Ludi, but Cassius was still his father. He would grieve alone, that much was inescapable.

  ‘Then in the name of peace, I ask for safe passage,’ he ventured, ‘for myself and for anyone else who wants to leave Isca Pantheon. And I ask if we … if we … Is that Lake?’

  His voice faltered as his incredulity got the better of him.

  And Lake responded by slowly inclining her regal head until she was level with him, her steamy breath whispering in the early sunlight. I pressed my hand against her warm scales, conscious she could still incinerate them all with a single exhalation. But she seemed to remember well enough, and if their old friendship lay among Cassius’s ashes, there seemed to be a silent acknowledgement that destiny had led them here.

  ‘There’s an end-of-life function,’ Atticus volunteered after a beat. ‘An emergency measure that seals the domes and slowly reduces life support. Father’s scientific team developed it in case life on the inside ever … grew beyond his control. Let me evacuate those who wish it, and I will activate it. It will finish it all – for good.’

  My mind flew to the laboratory of Prolet embryos and to Aelia’s fight for their protection, to my own realization that sometimes design had nothing to do with will.

  ‘What of the unborn?’ I whispered.

  Atticus’s face darkened. ‘Will it be better for them that they remain so?’ he muttered.

  A shocked whisper started among the crowd, and Lake’s breath deepened. I reached up instinctively, soothing her though I knew what she wanted, understanding that perhaps it was a remnant of her own Prolet humanity.

  I closed my eyes. The ghosts were clamouring and the outside was fragile enough without raising Cassius’s Prolet army on hope. And yet.

  The stars incline us … they do not bind us.

  Cassius and Livia were so wrong. My emotion had never weakened me; it had guided me.

  I stared at Atticus’s face and could tell he wanted it too. Dark blood could choose mercy.

  ‘They live.’

  My voice was strong and there was a tangible murmur.

  ‘But they live and breathe as Outsiders,’ I continued. ‘And as I stand here now, there will be no mention of Pantheon or Cassius for as long as we all live. They will be raised to think as free people, and through them we will show freedom isn’t defined by walls, but by our choices.’

  Atticus inclined his head, relief darkening his young eyes. ‘I think this is yours.’

  He stepped forward, still cautious of Lake’s exhalations, and pulled something from beneath his charioteer tunic. It was brown, mottled and conjured images of Grandpa shuffling through a crowd of faded faces. I took it into my hands, and felt its musty scent embrace me like an old friend. The Book of Arafel. I inhaled unsteadily. It was such an old, worn collection of pages but their content, Thomas’s research, had started it all.

  Protect it, he’d entreated. Protect it with your life, Talia.

  ‘I tried, Grandpa,’ I whispered.

  But some secrets were so violent they grew a lifeblood of their own.

  Care for the seed and it will care for you.

  I scanned the crowd of tense Insider faces. The Voynich was still out there somewhere, perhaps it would never be found, but the Book of Arafel was here in my hands. It was Thomas’s cipher, the key to decrypting all the Voynich’s secrets. And as its last keeper, this was one decision I could make.

  I fanned the pages through my hands, letting their homely, aged scent comfort me one last time before twisting to look up at Lake. Her great spiny head dipped once as I closed my eyes, and then I threw the book high into the air.

  She responded instantly, releasing a jet of pure black flames that incinerated Thomas’s lifework in a heartbeat. And I fancied the great white oak, st
ill silhouetted on the horizon, whispered its approval.

  Chapter 27

  We had no choice but to take the long way back, around scorpion hill. The feral girl and the chimera child; small, skinny, still wearing her headscarf and smoke-grey tunic.

  Lake had morphed as soon as the Book of Arafel was burned, almost as though her legend had been destroyed along with it. And while she’d shed her reptilian skin in favour of something far less violent, I almost missed her archaic alter ego.

  I recalled the skinny, fiery orphan to whom Max and I had offered our last provisions beneath the Dead City of Isca. She was no bigger – that much was certain. But there was a new wisdom in her double-lidded honey eyes that narrowed in the sunshine, and while there wasn’t much talk, I could tell she recalled everything. She slipped a small hand through my arm as we walked, our bond sealed, but what lay ahead dwarfed anything either of us could say.

  It had turned into the kind of spring day I relished in Arafel. The sky was cobalt blue, the air alive with birdsong and our path alongside the Dead City strewn with fresh blossom. It was undeniably, defiantly spring. I inhaled deeply, trying to carry the life with me, to strengthen me for what we had yet to face.

  We traced a circular path with heavy feet. The ground had become a hardened river of dislodged earth, mud and waste, making progress slow. And I could feel my fear building. There could be no more denial, no more fragile hope. Lake gripped my arm tightly and I drew her near. Drawing strength for whatever lay ahead – no matter how raw.

  Then finally, we climbed high enough for our first view of the rise of scorpion hill to its forest brow, where we paused, unsure whether the glinting sun was tormenting us, or if we could trust the sudden euphoria chasing our veins.

  Because even though we were still some distance away, the outside forest was still there. And furthermore, it was alive!

  We fell into an instinctive stumbling run, over the smoking charcoaled ground, towards the precious family of survivors at the forest fringe: Mum, Eli, Unus, Komodos, Lynx, Pantheonites, Prolets – and a Roman Equite Knight who’d never looked more like home.

  Come what may, nature finds a way.

  Grandpa’s whisper gave our feet wings, and I could feel Max smiling as a hunter’s cry escaped my lips. Because feral had always meant the freedom to choose a life between the red earth and guiding stars.

  And that was worth the whole damned world.

  Glossary of Terms (in alphabetical order)

  Astra inclinant, sed non obligant: The stars incline us, they do not bind us (ancient Latin saying referring to strength of free will over astrological determinism)

  Aurochs: Hebrew equivalent of ‘wild ox’ but translated biblically as ‘unicorn’ in the early Christian church.

  Cenchris: One of the many venomous snakes believed to be spawned from the blood of Medusa, and to live in the Sahara desert. Its most obvious characteristic was that it always moved in a straight line, and did not coil or flex its body. Cenchris venom was believed to rot and putrefy flesh, causing lethargy, stomach-ache and death within two days if left untreated.

  Circus Pantheonares: Play on ‘Circus Maximus’, Latin for greatest ancient Roman chariot-racing stadium and mass entertainment venue in Rome, Italy for *Ludi. It was the first and largest stadium in ancient Rome and could accommodate over 150,000 spectators. The Ludi Cirque Pantheonares is Cassius’s own Ludi arena based upon the real Circus Maximus.

  Faction Colours: According to Tertullian, there were originally just two factions, white and red, sacred to winter and summer respectively. Later on there were four factions: the red, white, green and blue, and each team could have up to three chariots in a race.

  Grande Stazione: Grand Station

  Herculean: Refers to Hercules. Hercules was the Roman god equivalent of the Greek god Heracles. Hercules was the son of Zeus, the Lord of the sky and a mortal woman, Alcmene. He was a great swordsman and wrestler, earning his god status.

  Imperator Cassius: Imperator appeared in the title of all Roman monarchs until the extinction of the Empire in 1453. Imperium is Latin for the authority to command, and the word Emperor derives from this term.

  Jupiter: Lord of the sky and supreme ruler of the gods. Known for throwing lightning bolts.

  Legatio: Roman envoys were often sent abroad with written instructions from their government. Sometimes a messenger (nuntius) was sent, but for larger responsibilities, a legatio (embassy) of ten or twelve legati (ambassadors) was organized.

  *Ludi: Public games connected to Roman religious festivals. Sponsored by leading Romans or the Roman state for the benefit of the people.

  Medusa: Translated from the Greek, the daughter of Phorcys and Ceto who became a Gorgon/ugly snake-headed monster. Perseus beheaded her wielding Athena’s shield and wearing Hades’ invisible helmet and Hermes’ winged boots.

  Machairodontinae: A sabre-toothed cat. One of the most iconic predators of prehistoric America. About the size of a modern tiger, but more robustly built, with broad limbs, unmistakable long canines, and a mouth gape range of almost 120 degrees. Additionally it could have reached a body mass of more than 400 kilograms.

  Oceanids: From the Greek, ‘Clymene’ was an Oceanid nymph loved by the sun god Helios. She bore him seven daughters, the Heliad nymphs, and a son named Phaethon. The boy was killed when he attempted to drive his father’s chariot across the sky.

  Odontotyrannus: Massive beast believed to have lived in the rivers of India. According to mythology, when Alexander the Great and his men made camp by a river, they were found by an odontotyrannus coming to the water to drink. It was enormous, large enough to swallow an elephant whole, and black in colour with three horns on its head. When it saw the Macedonians it went on a rampage, killing twenty-six and injuring fifty-two soldiers before it was brought down. Progenitors include the rhinoceros and crocodile.

  Oropendola: A large, gregarious tropical American bird of the American blackbird family, which has brown or black plumage with yellow outer tail feathers. The strange and remarkable song of the Montezuma Oropendola is an ascending series of overlapping bubbly syllables, which crescendo to a high peak. The song is often accompanied by a scratchy call that is reminiscent of a fizzling firecracker or the ripping of a thick fabric (Stiles & Skutch 1989).

  Quadriga (Latin quadric and iugum yoke): a chariot drawn by four horses abreast (the Roman Empire’s equivalent of Ancient Greek tethrippon). It was raced in Ancient Olympic Games and other contests. Quadrigas were emblems of triumph and may refer to the chariot alone, the four horses without it, or the combination.

  Senatus Popules Que Romanum: ‘The Senate and the people of Rome’ was written on the standards of the regions. Eagles were the symbols of the legions, which were drawn on the standards.

  Servilia: born c.104BC, d. after 42 BC was a Roman matron from a distinguished family. She was the wife of Marcus Junius Brutus and Decimus Junius Silenus, but she is most famous for being the mistress of Julius Caesar, whom her son Brutus and son-in-law Gaius Cassius Longinus later assassinated in 44BC.

  Tiger Beetle: Fast-running hunter, armed with heavy-duty mandibles. Often called the ‘lion or cheetah’ of the insect world.

  Titus: Titus Flavius Caesar Vespasianus Augustus was Roman Emperor from 79 to 81AD, and is best known for completing the Colosseum.

  Valkyrie: Means ‘choosers of the slain’ and are believed to show up at battles to decide who will die. Then they escort the chosen souls back to Valhalla where everyone has a good time.

  Citizen Numbers (Latin):

  Citizen MMDCL (Talia Hanway): 2650

  Citizen MDCLII (Rajid): 1652

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  Acknowledgements

  Writing the Book of Fire trilogy has been a challenge and a privilege.

  Five years ago, I sat down with
a vague idea of a wild girl who saved a dystopian world and Talia just emerged: feral, impulsive, brave, yet very flawed and relatable – save for a few impressive aerial skills!

  I tried to make her as believable as possible, while setting her story inside a fantasy world, because she had some real things to say. So if any of her journey has resonated, as it has with me, then I have achieved something more than the adventures of one feral girl and that makes me a very happy author.

  ————

  In particular, I’d like to extend my special thanks to:

  HQ Editors Belinda Toor & Abigail Fenton, for their all-round editing wizardry.

  The HQ Design team for just the most incredible cover.

  Chloe Seager for picking Book of Fire off the slush pile four years ago.

  Hannah Weatherill (Northbank Talent Management) for support and new friendship.

  Catherine Johnson (Author) & the Curtis Brown Creative Team for ongoing support and words of wisdom.

  Stuart White & WriteMentor for friendship and new opportunities.

  My awesome writing group: The Scribblers for belief, right from the start.

  My fantastic readers and followers, who’ve been a real source of inspiration and support, especially throughout Storm of Ash edits.

  All the amazing bloggers, vloggers and authors who’ve given their time to read and review – so important and very much appreciated.

  And finally, my fabulous family,

  without whom I wouldn’t have written a word.

  Dear Reader,

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