Blood and Ashes

by N M Zoltack

  Valeria Bellius and Cassia Junius also rode their horses to join them.

  Cassia remarked, “The dragon will not be pleased.”

  “We cannot do this,” Valeria uttered.

  “What if the dragon knows best? What if these people are wicked?” Cassia hissed. “The dragons used wraiths—”

  “I see no wraiths here,” Horatia murmured.

  Just then, a child squealed with delight. Other children began to cheer too.

  The Valkyries glanced over to see a child holding a ball aloft over his head, swarmed by many other youths.

  “Yes, they are all terribly wicked,” Valeria grumbled.

  "Do others feel as you do?" Horatia directed the question to Cassia.

  “No.” Cassia flared her nostrils. “The dragon…”

  They all fell silent. Horatia had one pressing thought about the dragon, but she dared not voice it aloud—that the dragon might be wrong. If that were the case, then Horatia had been wrong to lead the Valkyrie away from Marcellus’s side.

  Perhaps she had been wrong for a long time now. The Valkyries had reforged because Horatia thought the time was right. As of old, the Valkyries had served the dragons, had been their warriors.

  But the dragons had not been alive for a millennium and a half. The Valkyries had returned before the dragons had, and the Valkyries had not merely trained upon the sect’s uprising. No, the Valkyries had been instrumental in a war.

  A war they had no right to engage in.

  An hour later, Horatia allowed a few of the Valkyries to hunt for them to eat a small meal. They made no fire and no camp. Darkness slowly swept over the land, but then an even blacker shadow cast over them.

  Horatia did not look up but dismounted from her horse and fell to one knee. She did not need to see with her eyes to know the dragon had returned to them.

  The dragon belched fire into the air, illuminating the space all around them. In that flickering light, the Valkyries all watched as the dragon pierced Valeria Bellius clear through and through with the sharp point of his tail. He lifted the bleeding Valkyrie into the air and then flicked his tail, sending Valeria flying.

  Cassia, who was beside Horatia, stiffened. Horatia knew enough to realize Cassia thought she should have been the one killed in Valeria’s place. After all, Cassia had been the one to urge them to fight but had failed. Valeria and Horatia both had a hand in the dragon’s decree going unfulfilled.

  I sought to avoid this town being burnt to the ground by having you do as I bid. You did not, and so…

  The dragon took off, flying overhead, raining fire down onto the town, not stopping until every single building was kissed by flames.

  Horatia and the Valkyries gathered to watch. Strangely enough, Horatia heard no screams, nor did she smell the fire, but the flames were mesmerizing, the might of the dragon unparalleled.

  Yes, Valeria had been killed, but such was the way with dragons. They had all suspected the dragon’s wrath would be swift. They had gone against his word, and they had been justly punished for that.

  But the dragon would be obeyed the next time. Horatia already knew that.

  They were the Valkyries.

  They must do what the dragon demanded.

  Or else, they would be the next to die, whether by claw or teeth or flames.

  23

  Bjorn Ivano

  The Princess of Tenoch… Why she had come to see Bjorn, why she had a healer come and restore him back to life, he did not know, but he could not deny being grateful.

  Finally, Princess Vivian nodded to the healer, and the woman left, undoing the thong that held up her brown hair as she left.

  Bjorn eyed the princess, who remained in his unlocked cell. “Do you know why I was locked up?”

  “I don’t know of any crime that you could have committed to have warranted all of that, and my sister would not have done the likes of this to you.”

  “Not that I know of,” he muttered.

  She held out clothes for him. When she had gotten them, he did not know, but he had not been exactly coherent the entire time he had been tended to.

  He turned about and dressed quickly, marveling that he felt no weariness, no stiffness. Indeed, he did not know the last time he had felt so rested.

  Once clothed in tan pants and a plain surcoat, he faced her again. “Thank you.”

  “You did not wish to drink anything,” the princess observed.

  Bjorn grimaced. “The healer… She was…”

  “An alchemist.”

  He shuddered.

  “You do not care for female alchemists?”

  “There are so few, male or female,” he mumbled. “They work…”

  “Magic, yes, but now there are others who possess magic as well.” She appraised him.

  He had not spent a great deal of time with Rosalynne's sister during or after the tournament or in the time that followed. That was not to say he had not heard of her, her beauty as well as her temperament. Rumor said she was very much a prim and proper lady who desired things to be just so, yet the lady in front of him wore a dress that was not truly a dress. It merely looked like one, but yes, he was certain the skirt was actually pants with legs that had been styled to appear as a skirt. Whyever would she wish for such a thing? But there was a grace in her every moment that spoke of hours of training and not from learning how to dance but how to wield a sword.

  First female alchemists, two of them it seemed, and now a female fighter? Well, he supposed times were desperate indeed.

  “Are you a changed man?” she asked suddenly.

  “My crime was that—”

  "It was long before now. You were banished, never to return. Have you committed another crime, or were you merely locked away because of coming to Atlan?"

  “Because of returning,” he said slowly.

  “And have you changed? I know well that some people do not change at all, that they live their entire lives with the beliefs and prejudices they gained early on in their lives. However, I know even better how much a person can change, so I ask a third time, have you changed?”

  Bjorn merely gaped at her.

  Princess Vivian nodded. “I believe you have,” she announced firmly.

  “Why?” he uttered.

  “Tatum said you were close to death. I know her, I believe, and if she thought you a threat, she might have allowed you to die, but she fought to save you.”

  “You told her to.”

  “Aye, and I believe that Tatum does as she wishes.” The princess’s lips barely curled at the corners. “If I am wrong, you will be brought back here, and depending on the crime, I might execute you personally. Do I make myself plain?”

  “As plain as can be,” he assured her.

  “Then you are free to leave if you wish,” she allowed, stepping back and motioning to the open door with a wave of her hand.

  “I do wish to,” he said, moving to stand before her, “but I must urgently speak with the queen. She must know what happened in her dungeon, to her prisoner.”

  The princess nodded. “I thought you might wish for that. Come with me.”

  She stepped out of the cell first and waited. Bjorn inhaled deeply and hesitated before taking the last step to freedom. It felt as if a huge weight had been placed upon his shoulders instead of removed, and he lowered his head as he trailed behind the princess. He hoped to avoid seeing either the advisor or Sabine on the trek to the throne room.

  Only the princess led Bjorn to a small parlor and had him wait inside. An hour passed before the queen entered with a tall, strong, dark-haired man.

  “You wish to see me?” the queen asked. “I am told you were beaten horrifically, and your ears… maybe I see them?”

  Confused, Bjorn saw no reason not to comply.

  The queen stared hard at his left ear and touched it.

  Bjorn startled.

  She jerked back. “Did that hurt you? Does it hurt?”

  “No,” he said slowly, re
aching to touch his ear. When he touched the tip, he grimaced. “I do not feel this part here.”

  “It is black,” the queen murmured. “Did that happen during the beating? Were you burned?”

  “It was torture,” he said honestly.

  “I never ordered—”

  “Your advisor did.”

  “Aldus,” she said flatly.

  He nodded.

  “He is not my advisor, but he will be dealt with.”

  “And I was burned in a fashion,” Bjorn said, “only not by his hand.”

  “Then by whose?” The queen glanced at the man, who Bjorn assumed was her guard.

  A guard and not a chaperone. At one time, he sought to be alone with the queen as much as possible. That seemed as if another man had lived that part of his life.

  Yes, he could quite honestly tell Princess Vivian he was a changed man.

  “Sabine Grantham came to see me. She acted… She gave me something to drink. I was dying of thirst, but it tasted… It was so strange, and I didn’t want to drink the rest, but she made me, and…”

  “She gave you a potion,” Rosalynne said. Her eyes widened in horror. “Please know, Bjorn, whatever our differences, I never intended for anything like this to have happened to you. The beating, the torture, the potion…”

  “Are you certain it was a potion and not poison? I…” Bjorn hung his head. “She—”

  “I know she used poison against my father,” the queen said.

  “Do you know I gave it to her?” he said, lifting his gaze.

  Rosalynne stiffened. “Did you know—”

  “Suspected at the very least. I can’t recall now if I knew who she intended it for, but that does not matter. I knew it could kill, and I gave it to her, and I was a fool. Perhaps she sought to kill me so I could tell no one… You knew already.”

  “I would not say I know all, but I do know a great deal,” the queen said evenly.

  “If you wish to keep me a prisoner because—”

  “You may go. You have suffered quite enough, and I am not my father,” Queen Rosalynne said sternly.

  “I am sorry,” Bjorn said, “for everything I have done that caused you any grief—”

  The guard snorted, and Bjorn shifted his gaze to the man. His scowl was rather impressive, his eyes dark.

  But dark eyes weren't enough, and Bjorn stared harder at the man, trying to determine if there might be more similarities between him and Olympia. Whereas she had a full, oval face, his was more rectangular, his nose small at the top and spread out wider at the bottom, while Olympia had a small sloped nose. Might they come from the same parents? It was impossible to say, and the hopelessness of his endeavor had Bjorn lowering his head.

  “Bjorn,” Queen Rosalynne said, her tone stern but not harsh. “You have my word that I will handle her, and I suppose you have done enough penance, but you cannot kill again, not in my name or anyone else’s—”

  “I would prefer instead to kill in your name,” Bjorn blurted out.

  The guard stepped forward threateningly.

  Bjorn shook his head. “I wish to join your army,” he argued.

  Rosalynne blinked a few times and looked up at the guard who now stood beside her as if her equal instead of behind her.

  She was shocked by his request. Honestly, so was he. Did he even mean that?

  “Allow me to ponder over this,” Rosalynne murmured. “You may stay in the castle for now until I have made my decision, but you will not wander the castle at your leisure. Ulric?”

  “I will find and assign a guard to him,” Ulric said, glowering at Bjorn.

  Bjorn eyed this Ulric a long moment, but already, he was turning to leave.

  Staying within the castle would allow Bjorn the chance to try to locate Olympia’s twin, but what if Rosalynne accepted his outlandish proposal? Well, for the time being, he would remain here, even if he wished he could be back with Olympia, even though he had failed her many times over.

  But Olympia, she would not fail Tenoch. He hoped she would one day gain the throne, but how could he ensure that possibility?

  As he waited for his room to be secured, Bjorn did something he had not done in an age. He bowed his head, and he prayed to the Fates of Peace and Life that Olympia might have a chance to shine as brightly as she could for all the world to see. She was passion and fire and all the world could ever need.

  Hope. That was what Bjorn clung to, and he hoped Olympia did the same, wherever she might be.

  24

  Rase Ainsley

  In the short period of time that had passed since Dudley’s death, Atlan had transitioned entirely from hanging on to empty and desolate, and that was precisely how Rase felt. He felt as if he were as empty as could be, a being of pure desolation.

  With no one to assist and nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to, Rase made his way back to the castle, back to the healer’s hall, to where Leanne was.

  His sister was handing out thick chunks of bread to the wounded, and Rase just stood to the side, watching her work, waiting for her to be finished. Once her task was completed, she immediately set upon the next duty, that of providing a cup of water.

  This time, as she neared the last person, Rase approached for fear that she would move onto the next chore.

  “Leanne,” he said urgently.

  “Rase,” she returned, her tone a bit short.

  “Please,” he begged. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how I can make amends.”

  She finished giving the last two men water, crossed over to a table, and set down the pitcher before turning to her younger brother. “Rase, I know this is not what you wish to hear, but honestly, I do not know if you can.”

  Fury flashed through him, but he held up his hands so he wouldn’t curl his fingers into fists. “I can hand out the next meal—”

  “Most of these are ready to return to their families,” she said. “The fabric of the world is changing. Healers, before, never had magic, not like this. The dragons chose some of us to live…”

  “To live extraordinary lives,” he finished somberly. “I’m not surprised they chose you. You deserve this honor. You do.”

  "It's not a matter of deserving," she argued, but how could she be right? She had never done anything like Rase had. He had committed crimes, had stolen, blackmailed, killed. Yes, he had used the excuse that he was trying to ensure his family's survival, but his ma died, Maxene and the baby too, and Leanne had been attacked as had he…

  He had taken too much and the wrong way. Rase didn’t deserve anything at all.

  Not even a second chance.

  But just because these men did not need to be fed another meal did not mean others did not.

  Rase brightened. “Maybe I can become a servant here at the castle. I could—”

  "As it is, many of the peasants who have taken to living within the castle walls have tried to do just that, to earn their keep if you will, but that will only create more work for the current servants as they would have to be trained, and with so many all about—"

  “I could work in the kitchens,” he suggested desperately.

  “Scullery maids are, well…”

  Maids.

  He grimaced. “I—”

  “Rase, please. I know you mean well, but you meant well before, and that resulted in people dying, didn’t it?”

  Her face was one of disgust and revulsion, and that anger resurged within Rase.

  She was wrong. He would prove that to her and to himself.

  The world could be a better place because of him.

  He just had to figure out how.

  But clearly, that would not be happening within the castle, so once again, Rase departed, leaving Leanne to her work. In a way, he was envious of her. Not that she had gained magic and he hadn’t. No. She had found her purpose in life, and Rase still had not.

  For hours, he wandered about, hardly seeing a soul, and then he heard a horse. Curious, Rase headed over. A wild horse was
racing about and careened into a wagon. A child came rushing over as well, and the horse reared up onto his hind legs, kicking the air.

  Kicking downward.

  Kicking the child.

  Trampling the child.

  And Rase knew what he had to do, at least at this moment.

  25

  Advisor Aldus Perez

  A knock on his doors had Aldus intrigued. Normally, he was the one to seek out others. Few sought out him, aside from meetings when they sought out his advice.

  A guard opened the door before Aldus could even respond. “Aldus Perez, you have been summoned.”

  “By whom?” Aldus asked mildly.

  “I will bring you to her.”

  A bit irked that the tiring man had not answered him directly, Aldus fell into step behind the man. Had the queen realized she needed his assistance at long last? Or had she learned of what he had done to Bjorn? Because he could merely wave a hand and point a finger at Sabine. Everything Aldus did, he thought first and planned carefully. He had not wished to beat the man, but even then, he had figured he would turn Bjorn over to Sabine once he was done.

  Or had Sabine? The apprentice hardly left her room to the point that Aldus wondered if she were not supposed to. Might that be why the guard had come to fetch him?

  Aldus glanced at the guard’s red hair. No, he could not say he had seen this particular guard before, so he could not place her with Sabine or anyone else for that matter.

  To further confuse the advisor, he was brought down several levels, not to the dungeon but to a floor that was used by servants and for storage.

  The guard halted beside a door and waited. Aldus did not acknowledge him and opened the door.

  Immediately, several arms came out, grabbing him. Aldus did not fight, not at first, not until he saw a tall, blond-haired, steel-blue-eyed woman in the corner.

  Sabine.

  Curse her! May the Fates blast that wretched woman from the skies! If she thought that she would use her objectionable and offensive potion on him, then she had better think again.

  When Aldus was not scheming, he was attempting to learn and master his magic, and his fingers began to burn. Flames replaced his fingers, and he sought to lash out and burn the guards, but he had yet to be able to make all ten of his fingers burn like this previously, and he could not get the fire to move up to his hands, his arms, to where the guards touched him.