Using my crutch for support, I squatted in the doorway. Slowly, gingerly, I touched the charcoal line of the circle, careful not to break it. It was warm, as I knew it would be, drawn up here above the hot kitchen, where someone was always cooking or baking, always keeping the fires hot.
My finger came away stained black. I brought it to the tip of my tongue. It tasted sour, and I spat it out quickly. Prickly ash. Any hope that I had been wrong vanished.
“What is it?” Koen asked. His skin looked chalky. I’d met his first several questions on the way here with clipped sentences that didn’t explain anything, so Koen had given up on conversation with me until now.
I avoided answering him once again, simply reaching for his hand to pull myself back up. “I need to talk to the king.”
NINE
“King Ghalad is in conference with King Talorc and will not be disturbed.” The king’s steward had caught up to us in the antechamber and now barred our way to the Great Hall. He stood tall and straight, almost as dignified as the king himself in his elegant waistcoat and livery of tan and gold. He seemed perfectly at home in the opulent room.
The midday sun streamed in through high windows to the left. It shone off golden accents on chairs and divans covered in silk and velvet. Rare carpeting muffled sounds and gave the room a rich quality unmatched by anything I’d experienced before. This was a room meant to impress whoever was unlucky enough to bide their time here as they waited for an audience with the Eagle King.
“Zolin,” Koen pleaded, “we must see the king. It’s a matter of great urgency.”
Zolin’s nose was a little too long, and it seemed rather pointed as he held it high. “Unless it’s a medical emergency, you can give me the message, and I will deliver it to the king.”
I growled and brought my crutch up threateningly, as if I could swing it at him even with my poor balance. He cringed back.
“What is going on here?” Lady Serrin’s flutelike voice came from the doorway, and we all turned.
Followed by a gaggle of handmaidens, Serrin was dressed in a flowing coral gown with a gossamer-thin fabric floating around it like a cloud. Her blonde hair was braided with ropes of silver that shimmered in the sunlight.
I became keenly aware of the rough green robe I wore, its voluminous folds that hid the shape of my body, and especially the wooden peg where my foot should have been.
Serrin’s beauty was only slightly marred by the sling hanging from her shoulder in which her left arm rested, wrapped in a bandage.
“What are you doing out of your bed, my lady?” Koen asked with disapproval.
Becoming flustered and picking at the airy fabric of her gown with her good hand, Serrin replied, “I feel so much better today that I thought, if my ladies helped me down the stairs, perhaps I could join everyone for the midday meal.” Her lip quivered in a delicate pout. “I got lonely, up there all by myself.”
Koen never could resist a woman’s tears. He strode over to her and patted her shoulder. “I suppose if you keep someone near you at all times to catch you if you fall, it will be all right for a brief time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Serrin,” I snapped, drawing her attention. “Tell your steward to let us in. I must speak with the king.”
She regarded me with a puzzled expression, probably wondering which king I referred to. But she must have seen something in my expression, because the teary, quivering female slowly sloughed away like an old fur poncho, replaced with a hard expression that firmed her lips and tightened her brow.
Serrin strode purposefully across the room. “Zolin, let them in.”
“But my lady, they—”
“Never mind.” She brushed past me and moved the steward aside as if he were a rag doll. “I’ll do it myself.”
“No! No! My lady!” The steward’s protests fell on deaf ears as Serrin grasped the brass handles and pushed open the double doors.
The Great Hall was huge. It sported a vaulted ceiling that must have soared up to the top of the castle itself. Arched openings to the left bathed the room in light and opened out onto a balcony with a breathtaking view of the north end of the canyon. The room was oblong, with polished stone floors and a woven carpet leading to the throne, which was located at the top of a short flight of steps at the far end of the room.
The Eagle Throne. My father used to tell stories meant to frighten us into good behavior about the big bad Quahtl king who sat brooding on his Eagle Throne in the south, thinking of new ways to torture the T’yathan warriors he captured in battle.
I had never seen the Eagle Throne itself. It was a massive chair with elaborate scroll work around the edges, gilt in gold. A carved eagle perched at the top. Its wings were spread, its beak open to the sky as if voicing a shrill battle cry. Rich red drapes hung on the wall behind the throne and complimented the gold. The fabric of the chair looked thick and soft, but the seat itself was empty.
To the right, opposite the archways, several people sat at a long table. It looked worn and out of place. The table’s surface was covered with scrolls, parchment paper, and maps. Clerks held quivering turkey feathers poised to write. Talorc and Ghalad sat at opposite ends of the table with Master Llew, the negotiating Elaran, between them.
His attempts to keep the peace seemed to be failing. Talorc and Ghalad glared at each other. Both were slightly red in the face, as if we’d interrupted an argument. Both T’yathan and Quahtl guards, including Bridei, stood along the wall behind the table. The flicker of her eyes to me and the blush creeping into her cheeks were the only indications that she had noticed my entrance.
“What is the meaning of this?” Talorc thundered. He leapt out of his seat and stared at me. I wanted to shrink under the heat in his eyes, but I stood my ground and lifted my chin defiantly.
Ghalad was slower to rise from his seat. I’d forgotten how tall he was, especially for a Quahtl. The sunlight brought out a sheen in his dark hair, and I could see a bead of sweat running down one side of his face. He had shed his opulent coat today and wore only a white, billowy shirt, untied at the neck, that hinted at a strong physique.
“My lady,” he addressed Serrin with a nod. “Is there a problem?”
Serrin lost some of her confidence and glanced at me. “These, um, healers wished to speak with you. They said it was urgent.”
Ghalad’s brows crashed together in concern. “What’s wrong? Did you fall again?”
“No! No.”
I’d had enough of the pleasantries. “Your majesty,” I said as I limped forward, “your castle, the canyon, even the entire kingdom is in grave danger.”
I could see Talorc out of the corner of my eye. He looked like he might pop a blood vessel.
“What do you mean?” Ghalad’s eyes moved from me to Koen and back. “Have you discovered the source of Lady Serrin’s dizzy spells?”
“No,” Koen replied slowly.
I glanced back at him. My chest felt tight, and I wished with all my heart that he wasn’t there. Koen had always thought the best of me. He didn’t believe I was capable of even contemplating Dera’s darkness, much less being her servant. By warning King Ghalad, I was about to reveal my intimate knowledge of ash magic to everyone in the room. Was it worth it, to save the Quahtl kingdom?
If I said nothing and turned my back, King Ghalad would be stopped from whatever schemes he had churning to overthrow T’yatha. But it wouldn’t change the fact that I could never go home again. I had enough guilt to live with already without adding the lives of thousands to the reckoning, even if they were enemies of my people.
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. “We have discovered a summoning circle of ash magic in the storerooms.”
“What?” Talorc exploded.
Ghalad moved forward like a panther stalking its prey. “Summoning for what?”
I watched him carefully, not sure how he would react. “A demon from the Plains of Dera.”
Ghalad was very close to me now. I could sme
ll cinnamon and cardamom and something musky I couldn’t identify. “How do you know this?”
I glanced at Talorc. He quirked an eyebrow, as if wondering why I looked to him for permission. Behind him, Bridei gave me a slight nod.
“I’ve seen it before,” I said in a small voice. I wanted to melt and flow away like a river outrunning the winter frost. “My ... mentor conjured one.” I heard an audible gasp behind me, but I didn’t know if it came from Koen or Serrin.
Ghalad’s eyes widened, but he recovered quickly from his surprise. I refused to look at Koen.
Master Llew stood up slowly, fear washing over his expression. There were few Elarans who knew the truth of my past. At least Koen wasn’t alone in his ignorance. Would I be turned out of the sanctuary now by those I’d once called friends? The fox was off the line and couldn’t be duped into another snare, as my mother would say.
“She has repented of her sorcery,” Bridei said. She strode forward to stand by my side. “She no longer has Dera’s magic.”
Ghalad looked at Talorc. “Is this true?”
In spite of his stormy expression, Talorc’s words were calm. “It is. I feel certain we can trust her.”
Shocked by his faith in me, I stared at him.
“If what she says is true,” Ghalad continued, “then what exactly are we up against, and how do we combat it?”
“I’m a servant of Ragnell, not Dera,” Talorc grunted. “The intricate workings of ash magic are not my expertise.” He looked pointedly at me.
Ghalad raised his eyebrows in expectation.
The heat in the room choked me. I couldn’t draw a deep breath through it, and the knot in my chest only made things worse. But I licked my lips and began talking—slow at first, then faster as my confidence grew. I felt like I was reading from a textbook in the black school I’d attended with Cynet. “A circle of ashes is used to protect the sorcerer as he calls forth a demon from the Plains of Dera to inhabit a golem prepared from the wood of the prickly ash. If the circle remains heated and unbroken, the sorcerer can bend the demon to his will, control it. A demonized golem has great physical power. It can take on an army by itself and wipe out whole cities in a day. I’ve verified the presence of an intact summoning circle in the storerooms above your kitchen. Someone conjured a demon and may soon loose it on your kingdom.”
There were several moments of tense silence while Ghalad studied me. I swallowed hard and stared back, hoping I didn’t look as frightened as I felt.
“How do we stop it?” he finally asked.
“First you have to find it. Its master must have commanded it to hide, probably waiting for the best time to strike.”
Talorc pounded a fist on the table. The papers and Master Llew jumped. “Just destroy the circle and be done with it!”
Panic shot through me. “No! You can’t do that! Without the circle, the demon will be out of control, no longer restrained by its master’s will. It will go on a rampage.”
Bridei pulled the hilt of her broadsword out of its sheath with an ominous ring. “We’ll have to fight it, either way. Seems to me that’s the fastest way to find it.”
I scowled at her. “Innocent people will get in the way if we go blundering into this.”
Ghalad crossed his arms over his chest. “Then how do you propose we go about finding this demonized golem?”
I held his eyes and kept my expression firm and unflinching. “I think I know where it’s hiding.”
TEN
King Ghalad himself led a contingent of guards through the castle. I had to admit, I was impressed. He hadn’t taken time to don his full armor, but he wore a circular brass breastplate that covered his shoulders and chest, and he’d swapped his sandals for more practical boots. He carried a bronze helmet fashioned like an eagle’s head with an open beak and feathers sprouting out the back. His sword was almost as big as Bridei’s, but it was fashioned in the Quahtl style, with notched edges of obsidian that were sharper than any metal blade I’d ever used.
Master Llew left in haste to seal off the sanctuary. Zolin warned the castle’s inhabitants, and people scurried in the opposite direction as we passed, headed for the servants’ quarters and what they hoped was safety. But if we didn’t defeat the golem, nowhere in the valley would be safe.
Talorc, Bridei, and a handful of T’yathan warriors kept pace with Ghalad and his soldiers. Koen, Serrin, and I straggled along behind.
Koen caught Serrin’s good arm and slowed her. “You should get to safety, my lady,” he said. “You’re injured, and this is no place for you.”
Serrin shook him off. “My people have always known war, Journeymaster. I am not afraid.”
“You should be,” I said softly. I admired her brave words, but she had no idea what we were about to face.
Although Serrin’s eyes widened, she kept walking. “I’m not the only one who’s injured,” she said with a pointed look at my wooden leg. “If you’re going, so am I.”
Koen’s jaw twitched as if he were grinding his teeth. He turned from both of us and stared straight ahead. Ever since I’d told King Ghalad what the circle of ashes meant, I could almost feel horror and loathing radiating from Koen. It broke my heart.
Ghalad came to the kitchen door. “Clear everyone from the room,” he directed his soldiers.
They filled the kitchen like a flood overtaking the cooks and their assistants. Soon, they’d intimidated everyone into vacating the kitchen, all except one. The lanky kitchen boy still squatted beside the fire he tended night and day. He stared at us with wide eyes, as if too frightened to move.
I limped over behind Bridei and Talorc. She brought up her sword and held it at the ready. The soldiers circled the perimeter of the room in various battle stances, weapons gripped tight and ready to swing as their eyes continually swept the now-empty kitchen. The smells of cornbread pie and roasted meat hovered like forgotten promises. Koen stood with Serrin just inside the doorway. He looked grim, his complexion pale.
Ghalad ducked his head into his helmet. His face was visible inside the eagle’s beak. “Where’s the golem?” he asked, glancing my way. “The storerooms?”
I shook my head. “The best place for a creature of fire to hide is near a fire. One that is never allowed to die.”
I pointed my crutch at the fire boy where he knelt beside the oven at the back of the room. The silence became heavy as the boy blinked at us with wide, frightened eyes. He was visibly trembling.
“Somebody escort that boy to safety,” Ghalad said.
“No!” I yelled as a soldier moved toward the boy.
Suddenly, the boy’s expression shifted. His skin took on a waxy appearance, like a candle held too long near the fire. He grew, shooting up until his head nearly touched the ceiling. He was now easily twice as tall as Talorc. His body became blackened wood. Muscles exploded under sharp thorns that jutted out along his limbs and around his head. The golem was vaguely vase-shaped, the lower torso and legs thicker than the neck and head. The sorcerer who had carved it was not as skilled as Cynet, and the golem’s expression and features were more like vague suggestions. But where its mouth should have been was a hollow cavity that held a glowing red coal.
Before anyone could react, the golem grabbed the nearest soldier in massive hands of gnarled wood and lifted him up. The man screamed and hacked at the golem’s hand as he neared its face. The scream petered out. The man struggled and gasped for breath. When he came close to the golem’s face, a blast of hot air blew from the coal in the golem’s mouth and enveloped the soldier. His body exploded into ashes.
Serrin screamed, a high-pitched screech that made me wince. Koen grabbed her and tried to yank her out the door. She was frozen to the spot, staring up at the creature, horror painted across her delicate pixie face.
The golem turned its head as if looking at her, then slowly scanned the rest of us. The soldiers’ weapons wavered as they all fell back a step.
“Stand your ground!” Ghalad yelled an
grily.
Talorc began to run forward. “Alswyn!” he called back over his shoulder. “Your crutch!”
He held out a hand, and I threw my crutch to him without a second thought. Talorc snatched it out of the air. The wood stretched and grew. It became a giant serpent Talorc tossed at the golem.
Hissing and spitting, the serpent wrapped the golem in its coils. It moved fast enough to avoid the golem’s hands, and enveloped it in an instant. The soldiers cheered, but a moment later the golem’s muscles bulged, straining against the snake’s coils. Suddenly the serpent exploded into hot ashes that flew everywhere, catching cloths and furniture on fire.
Ghalad raised his sword above his head. “The Eagle Throne!” he yelled. His soldiers echoed his shout and attacked. They chopped at the golem and danced out of its grasp. When a soldier wasn’t quick enough, he was picked up and brought to the golem’s mouth, where he turned to ashes.
My heart leapt into my throat as Bridei joined the fight with the other T’yathan warriors, their ululating cries bouncing off the stone walls and blending with the screams of those caught by the golem.
Talorc raced about the room with a speed that belied his bulk, touching tables, serving platters, and anything else made of wood. At his touch, the objects transformed—growing, stretching, reshaping. Platters of food clattered to the floor as the tables beneath them grew to the ceiling. Drink spilled and ran in little rivers across the room. In moments, it was as though we stood in a copse of leafless trees with minds of their own. They swung their great barren branches at the golem and forced it back toward the hearth and the fires that burned there.
Forgotten Embers Page 5
