Ash Rising

by Katya Lebeque

  Everyone watched in silence as he descended the stairs. He looked… He looked…

  “I told you,” he whispered as he came near Ash, standing motionless as if bewitched on the last stair. “I told you I would come with you.”

  She swallowed. “I know.”

  He looked down at himself. “I thought it best to look more… I hope you are not offended?” he asked, studiously avoiding Stepmother’s gaze.

  “Derrick you look very proper,” said Vanita, breaking the tension.

  “Who is this?” said the Pathfinder, looking Derrick up and down.

  “He was a groom in our stables, now he’s one of the few surviving servants. I think this could be is our footman for the coach,” said Vanita before Ash could open her mouth. She looked quickly at Derrick, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Ah, well then, we need to see about that carriage, coachman. Come on down – I hope you won’t mind pushing that enormous thing out in your finery!”

  It had been almost a day since Ash had seen the pumpkin last and in the dark she was struck again by just how large it was, like a great hulking beast. Vanita gasped aloud. Standing in such a dress, shivering slightly in the night air and facing a giant about to be magicked all contributed to a curious form of detachment in Ash, like she was wading through a dream. So much so that she had almost forgot her crossbow on the kitchen table and even now was not looking up furtively in the way that had become second nature.

  “That should do it there, boy, yes,” the Pathfinder was saying, holding her arms up purposefully and posing herself, as though she were waiting to begin a complicated dance. Instead, she walked full circle around the pumpkin, frowning. At first, Ash could not see what was happening in the gloom. Then, Old Merta came out carrying a candle and Ash could see a lacquer-like patina had come over the entire pumpkin, with jacquard shapes popping up like wildflowers over its shiny, hard surface, transforming into clear glass in two pools for windows. With sleepy, creeping grace it sprouted dark iron vines that rounded into coach wheels, propping the pumpkin up to an even more formidable height. It was now taller than Ash. Finally, some kind of internal pressure could be heard. Then, with a loud bang that scared everyone, a door in the pumpkin flew open and the transformation was complete. Ash and Derrick both peered inside in wonder. The interior was no pumpkin anymore, but rather a proper, very ordinary-seeming red velvet interior of a usual carriage. There were even drapes at the rounded windows.

  Ash ran her fingers across the seating, half expecting it to vanish at her touch. Leather. It felt like real leather.

  “Ash,” called the Pathfinder’s voice behind her, sounding sad and strangely human. “Ashlynne come and let me say goodbye to you.”

  Ash’s hand stopped midway across the carriage seat. Of all the things Ash had expected of this night, she had not expected to feel this pang in her chest, head still inside the pumpkin-carriage when she heard those words. This Pathfinder that she had hated almost immediately, this family that she had not known she had. And now was leaving her again.

  “Ash did you hear me?”

  She turned around and in one swift motion, Ash did what she did not think she would ever do when this night started. She put her arms around her aunt and held her.

  “I heard you.”

  Slowly, she felt the Pathfinder’s own hands come up to embrace her back. “It has been a wonder to know you, however briefly,” she whispered in Ash’s ear. She pulled away and looked at Ash in a way she imagined had more to do with the dead sister than her child still breathing. “You look so beautiful, you look li-”

  The Pathfinder stopped abruptly as if she had seen someone just over Ash’s shoulder. Ash turned, but there was no one there. Still, her aunt had the look on her face of a traveller who had seen someone or something coming down the same road and they didn’t much like it.

  “Here, take this,” she said to Ash in a suddenly business-like voice, holding out an oddly shaped blue glass bottle the size of her hand. “It’s my own personal supply that I take with me whenever travelling. Should anything happen, it greatly speeds up healing and saves flesh that is wounded from turning corrupt. Some might call it magick,” she smiled slightly, handing over the bottle.

  Ash’s throat had closed up. “Do you mean… Did you see something? Is something going to happen to me?”

  “Ah, no child, I am sorry to have worried you. No, you are strong. I haven’t foreseen anything happening to you, don’t worry. But still, time marches on and you must go. So, goodbye Ash.”

  Ash pulled away to look her in the face. “So, you are going? And never coming back?”

  “As I told you when this night started, yes. I am.”

  “And I will never see you again?”

  Her aunt shrugged helplessly in her orange robes. “Not that I have seen, but who fully knows the Path Ash? I hope to see you again. If our paths should cross.”

  Ash looked away, trying to bite down on words she should not say. A hand reached under her chin and pulled her head up.

  “You have the beauty of your mother, Ashlynne. You look like water. This land needs water. Go now and refresh.”

  Ash looked at her aunt warily. “Refresh? How?”

  “Just by being yourself.”

  “But what do you want me to do once I get to the palace?”

  “Nothing. I want you to be yourself.”

  “And to take care of Vanita,” Stepmother added.

  Ash had almost forgotten there was anyone else here. She nodded at the comfortingly familiar silhouette of her stepmother. Now that she could do.

  The Pathfinder was putting her travelling cloak back on and hiding her face once again beneath its hood. This somehow made it easier to look at her.

  “Goodbye Ash of House Cerentola. May the Path guide you always.”

  “Safe travels Aunt. I shall never forget this night, that’s for certain.”

  The hooded figure nodded to her, then gestured to Derrick to come forward and help the ladies into their coach.

  And then she simply vanished. Leaving nothing but empty air behind her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fairy Tales

  Vanished. Just like that.

  They all stared in silence at the empty air for some minutes. There was so much to say, so none of them said anything.

  Derrick was the first to recover. He cleared his throat, then held his arm out to Vanita. She took it quickly, still staring at where the Pathfinder should have been, and he gracefully enough helped her up into the pumpkin coach in her spun-sugar gown.

  Ash took one last look at her aunt in her mind’s eye, in her memory, then gave her hand to him as well.

  Neither of them had gloves on and the shock of Derrick’s cool skin against hers electrified Ash. She had to pause, lean on him, until the fluid lengths of her skirts could be managed and she could hoist herself up into the carriage. She fell rather clumsily into her seat, hoping she hadn’t torn the miracle dress somewhere in the process. If Derrick had felt what she had, he didn’t show it and he didn’t even look at her as he closed the carriage door with a deferential click. A slight shift in weight as he sat up on his perch in front and then, they were off.

  Ash leaned as far as she dared out the window to see the spooky sight of a horseless carriage speeding along by itself. Up ahead, the derelict gates of Rhodopalais looked spidery and eerie, like graveyard gates. The cold night air speeding past was like a slap in the face, forcing Ash awake and she was thankful for it. She pulled herself back inside, fished under her voluminous lengths of dress and found her crossbow, then shifted herself so she could peer out the window with it propped at the ready.

  A sigh from within the coach. “Ash, can you not just enjoy this?”

  “Vanita, someone needs to be careful. To be the one to protect,” she stuck her head back in and turned around to face her stepsister, but as she did, her arguments died. Vanita looked calm, as calm as Ash had seen in a long time and she realised s
uddenly that she hadn’t heard Vanita wheeze in hours.

  “Ash. Everything is fine. Not forever, but in this moment, right now, it’s alright,” she said gently.

  “Something could happen, though.”

  “Yes. And that would be then. But this is now, this gorgeous night. It is only here once.”

  Her sister looked soft in the moonlight. Open. Openness was Vanita’s strength, not Ash’s. Ash was made powerful by closing up and hardening when something struck. Now, here, against the moonlight and the stark loveliness of the evening landscape, for all its danger, she was weaponless. Still.

  “Vanita, owl carriors would be bad enough – they are the second worst after crows – but what is even more likely is a group of bandits or starving beggars attacking the coach for some gold leaf or even just the coach itself to sleep in. Even with no candles lit, we would be heard a mile away. And people are desperate. I must watch.” It would not do to let her live in a fairy tale world, however happy her sister looked.

  Clearly Vanita realised this was one she was not going to win, for she just sighed and nodded, waving her hand at Ash’s concerns while still staring out at the moon. When Ash was sure Vanita was not looking, she propped herself up to look out her own window.

  It was a beautiful night. Unbelievably, there were others travelling across the barren, moonlit plain – not many, but some. The moon was clear and high, a duplicitous half-moon that kept some of its face unseen. You don’t know where you stand with a half-moon, Ash’s mother used to say. Still, it cast a good light and there were no clouds. It should be easy to see any carriors well before they swooped.

  But as time went on and no carriors appeared, something softened and she looked out at the world before her. The way Vanita seemed to be doing.

  Ash knew about life. She knew that it was dirty, scary and hard and that wishing it were some fairy tale wouldn’t make it any different. She reminded herself sternly, every few minutes, but soon a hulking big shape emerged on the horizon. The palace. It was hard to remind yourself that life was no fairy tale when you were headed in a horseless carriage toward a palace.

  “Ash… Oh Ash…”

  “I know…”

  It seemed like only half a second before they were within the palace grounds. The silhouette walls now looked so large and towering. There were other shapes too and Ash realised that they were under the cover of bare trees – real trees! After some time, a rushing burbling sound filled the air as the carriage began to take them alongside a rushing stream, almost invisible in the dark but for the moonlight reflecting off it in snatches. Later, in the vast expanse of land, orange blossomed beneath the bare trees. Servants had lit candles to light the carriages’ way. So many hundreds of lights, so bright against the deep dark blue of the night sky, their reflections flickering on the water.

  No, this was not real life. This was a dream, a one-night dream.

  Ash could not remember the last time she had seen anything beautiful. The stream widened and then, suddenly, there it was up close: the palace. Six different turrets soaring up from the ground, blazing with light. The palace’s stone walls seemed yellow as they flickered with hundreds of candles within and without and looked as though they could be warm to the touch. Ash could now see where the stream came from as it became a canal that flowed out of the palace’s moat like the train of a fine gown. And there were people getting out of coaches, as much as nine or ten people all in the same place, talking and laughing. It seemed so gloriously, beautifully normal that she started to cry. When she stuck her head back inside the carriage, Vanita’s cheeks were wet too.

  Quite a few heads turned at the sight of their horseless, vividly orange carriage and Ash felt suddenly nervous. To curtsey at just the right height, to dance, to demur and giggle – these were things she never thought she’d needed to do again. What if she’d forgotten how? Vanita, quite unaware of her inner angst, took Ash’s hand and gripped it tightly. “All those stories we read as children Ash, all that silly dreaming as you call it… This, right here, this is enough.”

  And it was. The outer courtyard was gravel and dominated by a large marble fountain, where footmen and servants were waiting outside in the open night air to escort the guests to safety. One could see that the soil was an arid here as anywhere else, but the palace had turned it into a beauty instead of a blight. Dry bushes of lavender lined the walkways, with dancing candles in amongst the bushes. Ochre-coloured turrets and picture windows overlooked the bare trees, these festooned with jars in branches which seemed to be filled with fireflies and white fabric hanging motionless in the air.

  And too soon, all too soon, the carriage slowed and stopped. And at once the palace was no longer a disconnected scene of wonder, but something Ash had to now participate in. Her heart hammered in her ribs, beneath her dress and her mouth felt dry. She had never been in this position before. She did not know how to behave.

  Derrick opened their door, eye on the ground, looking for all the world like a deferential footman. The Pathfinder’s words suddenly came back into Ash’s mind: ‘just be yourself.’

  Well, the normal Ash would never be helped down from a carriage like a helpless lady. She twisted around and opened the other carriage door herself and jumped down, walking around the back of the coach to stand next to him.

  If she expected him to look surprised, well, Derrick knew her too well for that. He just shook his head and smiled a small smile. Together, they each extended a hand toward the carriage and helped Vanita down.

  Ash and Vanita looked up at the tall stone walls and their blazing lights. Vanita let out a nervous giggle. It was like time had magically sped backwards eleven years and they were playing dress-up in their mothers’ gowns. Soon they were both laughing too loudly, holding each other and gasping.

  Suddenly, Vanita’s face changed and the laughter died away as abruptly as it had begun. “I’ve never been to a ball Ash.”

  “Neither have I. I wasn’t of age yet when all of this Expansion nonsense started.”

  “Yes, but… No parties, no court proceedings. I’ve never even seen the palace before, except in Mother’s pictures.” She looked around her, at the empty fountain and the light-filled trees and the night. The expression on her face reminded Ash of the way Old Merta looked up at the sky.

  “I… I’m scared Ash. It seems a ridiculous thing to say, but I am.”

  She was just newly sixteen, although they had not celebrated her birthday and her worried expression combined with her sumptuous gown made her look like a spooked thoroughbred pony.

  “Vee, no one is quite in their element here. No one’s ever been in this exact situation. But you have been trained from birth to be a lady and a lady is what you are. You know how to dance, you are already polite and soft-spoken. You will do well.”

  She nodded, her shoulders inside her pink silk trembling slightly. “Will you do well too?”

  Ash snorted. “Probably not. But tonight is not about me. Come on, let’s go inside.”

  “Agreed,” put in Derrick from behind them. “I hate to break up a sisterly moment, but there are other carriages trying to get in and everyone is pointing and staring at our creepy horseless one.”

  They walked across the gravel and up to a servant in full livery, who directed them towards the outer staircase that became the grand staircase.

  There, their breath left them.

  Everything was the purest white marble as the staircase soared up out of the night air, continuing inside with curving marble bannisters. To the girls’ left, enormous windows displayed the indigo night sky, which truly made the snowy engraved steps shine. Ash, as a servant, could not help but think of how many hours and servants it took to wash such a thing. Still, a royal carpet had even been rolled out and its deep, sensuous velvet made Ash’s heart beat faster, though she would never have admitted so to anyone.

  As the windows were replaced by pillars and arches along the gleaming corridors, Vanita turned to Ash. “I’ve
never been to a ball, Ash.”

  “And nor has anyone else, not for years at any rate. You’re well-bred and sweet, you’ll do well.”

  “Will you do well too?”

  Ash snorted. “Probably not.”

  The corridor widened into a fussily gilded double door entrance to what appeared to be the ball. Two servants – so many servants! – bowed and opened the doors for them, where a somewhat finer dressed man in similar livery and a pompous expression waited at the top of yet more stairs.

  “Invitations please, m’ladies.”

  Ash looked at him, stricken, but luckily Vanita pulled out the written missive from within her sleeve. “Mother,” she explained to Ash, winking.

  “This is only one invitation and the Royal Pathfinder was careful to send them to all households in which there were ladies of marriageable age present,” said the steward doubtfully.

  “Just so,” said Vanita smoothly. “And we are of the same house – House Rhodopalais.”

  The steward looked doubtful but took in Ash’s cascading dress and unbent posture and merely nodded. “It is customary for the older of two sisters to be announced and present herself to the ball first…”

  “I will go, but you needn’t announce me. Announce my sister Vanita after I’ve descended, we have the same name anyway.” Ash began to descend the stairs, trying to think ladylike thoughts. It wasn’t easy, considering that everyone was looking at her. As she reached the bottom stair she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and her the steward’s voice ring out behind her:

  “Lady Vanita Cerentola of House Rhodopalais!”

  Ash couldn’t help but smile as she watched Vanita come towards her. She looked like a real lady. This room was lucky to have her – the one other lady Ash could see waiting to descend the stairs was nowhere near as lovely or untattered-looking as Vanita. She turned to get a sense of the other ladies but was instead greeted by the sight of Derrick standing right behind her. He gave a gallant bow.