Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2)

by Intisar Khanani

  Stormwind’s gaze flicks to the backs of my hands. She makes no other answer.

  “I told the Council about his assassination of old Lord and Lady Degath. Their investigation might not stop him, but it will slow him down for a while, don’t you think?”

  Stormwind nods, but there is no surety in it. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I cannot say what he would do, but he’s not the kind of man who lets power slip through his fingers. If the Council tries to remove him, he might attempt to destroy the Council itself.”

  “He— he can’t do that.”

  “Blackflame will do whatever he deems necessary.”

  He will. I can feel the truth of her words deep in my bones. Outing Blackflame before the Council may have been the most dangerous thing I could do. The worst of what he will do is yet to come. He will hold on to the power he has gained with every weapon in his arsenal.

  “How do you know so much about him?” I ask Stormwind. “And why did he go after you?”

  Stormwind doesn’t answer at once. The high wail of the Mekteb’s siren drifts over the fields, faint and unrelenting. When she speaks, it is with regret. “You don’t yet know my history, do you?”

  “I know you’re innocent of what he charged you with.”

  “Innocence isn’t everything.”

  “What do you mean?” A cold dread settles in my stomach. This isn’t right. Stormwind hasn’t done anything. She’s innocent. That’s what’s kept me going. But I know I’m wrong. I’ve always known I might be wrong, because Stormwind held her secrets so tightly, all I’ve ever known is the mage of the valley. Who or what she was before, I have no idea. And I have not dared to ask anyone else.

  “Twenty years ago I fell in love with a young mage from the Northlands. I had been apprenticed in the Eleven Kingdoms, and he in the Northlands, but we shared our heritage and— he had a way about him.” She stares down the road, her eyes trained on a past I cannot see. “He dreamt of helping our people, of raising them in power and making them again a force to be reckoned with. He believed that it could be done if only we Northland mages banded together.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask, my voice uneven.

  “Blackflame is — or once was — my husband.”

  My mind goes blank. I stare at her. I cannot make sense of her words.

  “I helped him gain recognition as a high mage by the Council, and make the connections he would need to be elected as an arch mage. It was then, when I saw what he was willing to do to achieve his vision, that I began to understand what I had done, what I was doing. I left him mere weeks before he poisoned your father for opposing his election as arch mage, and for assuring that he was placed over the smallest of the Eleven Kingdoms.”

  “You married him?”

  “I am sorry, Hitomi. We all make mistakes. Mine was to love a man whose vision overrode his conscience.”

  She’d loved him? How could anyone look at him and not see the cruelty in his eyes? How could they not see his machinations for what they are? How could Stormwind have worked to put him in power?

  “I thought you knew,” she says. “You brought the pouch with you. It was in your pack. The one with my wedding brooch and the journal from the year before I married him.”

  “I didn’t— I didn’t know,” I say, stumbling into silence.

  “They were stored with my wedding dress.”

  I shake my head.

  “Your breather knew.”

  He had. He’d made a very strategic gamble on the possibility that she would take me in as payment for the things she’d come to regret doing. Small wonder Kenta had been so startled when I’d revealed whom I intended to help.

  Stormwind waits for me to speak, perhaps to absolve her of her guilt, or rail against her for hiding her secrets. But I can barely come to terms with who she is, what she’s done, what everyone but I had known. Only I probably had known. There is no way I wouldn’t have heard about Stormwind leaving Blackflame, not while living with my parents. I simply lost it in the ash, and was so focused on helping Stormwind, I didn’t dig deep enough, didn’t ask when I had the chance — not the Degaths, not Kenta, not even Stonefall.

  Almost as overwhelming as my own stupidity is the taste of betrayal, acrid as smoke on my tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “At first, you were weak and I merely followed the lead your breather gave me. Later, there didn’t seem to be any need. It was in the past for me and would only have caused tension between us.”

  I shake my head, though she’s right. It would have changed our relationship. But I don’t care anymore. She put him in power — the man who killed my father and changed my mother into someone else entirely.

  “I considered telling you when Stonefall came with the summons,” Stormwind goes on. “But we had so little time, and in the end I could not make myself. I did not want to part with you so.”

  I close my eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t a betrayal, it wasn’t meant as a betrayal; it was an old story, long dead. Easier to leave buried than to dig up and dissect. It was one of the many silences that filled that valley, silences I’d grown used to, barely audible over the lap of the lake water, hardly noticeable beneath the quiet patter of our lives together.

  “I’m sorry,” Stormwind says again.

  “It’s all right,” I say, my voice rough. The past is gone now, our decisions made and no way to change them even if we wished. We walk on, the gravel crunching loud beneath our boots. It is still some time till dawn, the world a wash of whites and grays and deep black.

  “I still would have come for you,” I tell her. “Even if I’d known.”

  “I know,” she says softly.

  In the darkness, her smile holds a lifetime’s worth of remorse.

  “Hitomi.”

  I push myself upright, my hands press against dirt and weeds. Stormwind kneels beside me, already wearing her pack.

  “Where’s Kenta?” I ask, voice scratchy.

  She nods to where a golden-haired tanuki waits beside the road. “There is a wagon headed our way. We’re going to ask the driver for a ride.”

  I clamber to my feet. It’s perhaps an hour past sunrise now. Stormwind called a halt near dawn, after I’d stumbled for the third time in as many minutes. Nearly two hours rest has helped, but I’m still achy and slow. Catching a ride sounds wonderful as long as we can do so without arousing suspicion.

  “Do you know the language?” I ask as the wagon draws closer. “It will look suspicious that I’m dressed as a local and don’t know three words of their tongue.”

  Stormwind hesitates. “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. I can speak the language, but explaining you will be hard.”

  “No it won’t.” I stretch out the kinks in my back as my mind works through the story we’ll need. “I’m a bit of simpleton. You’re my grandmother. We’re traveling to your other daughter’s home to help with a birth. I’m along to help carry things and the dog is to keep us safe.”

  She glances at me wryly. “You are frighteningly good at this.”

  “Must be my previous life,” I murmur, keeping my voice low lest the wagon driver see through our charade before we’ve begun to play it.

  When Stormwind hails him a minute or two later, he pulls the horses to a stop, inspecting us warily. A thick cloth tarp secures his load, covering it from sight. He must be a merchant of some sort.

  He listens with a frown as Stormwind details our story of travel, her gestures indicating sore feet and a long road. He eyes me at one point, muttering a question. I keep a vague smile on my face and watch the birds hopping along the ditch on the opposite side of the road while Stormwind answers him.

  Eventually, though, when Stormwind holds out a pair of coppers, he nods and takes them from her, gesturing to the back of the wagon. And it’s as easy as that. We climb up, Kenta leaping up beside us, and make ourselves as comfortable as we can on whatever pots or parcels remain hidden beneath the covering. Once we are all
safely settled, the wagon rolls forward once more.

  I let myself doze, lying on the tarp and its lumpy bed of wares. Stormwind sits beside me, watching the road for trouble. Kenta lies curled up somewhere behind us.

  After some time, houses begin to appear alongside the road, and then there are people passing around us, and the sound of other carts and animals. I make myself sit up and find we are nearing the center of a good-sized market town.

  “That rider,” Stormwind murmurs, gesturing with her chin back down the road.

  A man rides toward us, a second horse on a long lead trotting along behind him. I tense, squinting to make out details. He’s still too far away to recognize, but I have the distinct feeling he wears desert robes.

  “Stonefall?” I ask, keeping my voice low. Kenta sits up, turning his gaze to the rider.

  “It could be. Or another mage. Do they have any way to trace you despite that ward?”

  I should have known better than to hope this wouldn’t happen. “My room had wards that were keyed to me. Only to me, and one was stronger than the rest. Arch Mage Nightblade removed it when he visited my rooms because it should not have been used in the first place.”

  Even though her glamored eyes are another color, her face shaped differently, the lines upon it utterly unlike her own skin, I can see Stormwind working through the possibilities, coming to the right conclusion, and not wanting to accept it.

  “They had my tunic,” I say, “covered in blood from my wound. They used it. And they probably still have a piece of it set by for surety. I need to run far and fast, without either of you. There’s no need for us to get caught together.”

  Kenta growls softly.

  Stormwind shakes her head. “They wouldn’t have….”

  “They were desperate,” I reply. “You disappeared and they didn’t know how. They weren’t going to allow for my escape. I don’t know who sanctioned it, but it was done. Whoever this mage is, he’s ahead of the rest, but they’ll be coming.”

  Stormwind narrows her eyes. “It’s Stonefall, I think. He wouldn’t use blood magic. What’s in his hand?”

  I squint against the morning sunshine. He is still a good ways back, and has slowed his horses to a walk to move safely through the morning traffic. He wears his desert robes, as well as his sword, daggers, and crossbow. He scans the streets, each person he passes. He’s searching for someone. The only question is whether it’s me or Stormwind. In one hand, he holds his reins. The other he holds slightly forward, fisted, and suddenly I know.

  “A glowstone,” I say quietly, my voice cracking.

  “Yours?” Stormwind asks. “You used it for something bigger than a basic charm?”

  I nod. “I used it to … help him, and he ended up with it. But I can’t quite believe he would hunt me with it.” Not after I saved his life and then lied for him before the Council.

  “He may not be,” Stormwind allows. “But it’s too great a risk to take. He is a hunter, he’s following us, and we have to assume it is not to help us. We need to lose him.”

  Kenta rises to all fours, his gold-flecked eyes flashing a question.

  “Do you think you can get it from him?” Stormwind asks, her voice barely audible.

  He dips his muzzle.

  “No,” I say at the same time that Stormwind says, “It could work. Without the charm, he won’t be able to follow. As it is, the ward should keep him from homing in on you any further.”

  “But he knows he’s close. And he’s a rogue hunter.”

  Kenta snorts and leaps down from the wagon.

  “Be careful,” I say, louder than I intended, but he’s already gone, darting past the people on foot, his ringed tail disappearing in a matter of moments.

  Stormwind touches the back of my hand. I look down to see my fingers curled tight into fists. “Kenta can afford to attract attention. You cannot.”

  I glance toward Stonefall. He’s closer but he still hasn’t spotted us. It’s only a matter of time. And then Stormwind and I will both be caught, and Kenta as well, because he won’t let us go without a fight.

  I take a breath. Hold it. Exhale. Stonefall has the glowstone. And behind him could be mages with my old, bloodied tunic.

  “I have to leave you,” I tell Stormwind.

  She looks out over the road to where Stonefall rides. “I know,” she says. “But Kenta would not have let you walk away.”

  A shout goes up down the street. I tense, head whipping around in time to see Stonefall’s horse rearing, the second horse backing up and yanking at its lead. Stonefall clings grimly to his mount, fighting her to regain control of her. The people around him back away. A golden shape leaps out of the crowd, launching itself off the back of a terrified, bent over bystander to sail right into Stonefall. He shouts again, barely managing to keep his seat between the dog landing in his lap and his horse coming down. A flurry of movement, so quick I barely register it, and the dog leaps into the crowd and races away, ringed tail streaking out behind it.

  Stonefall takes a few moments to calm his horses, sparing no more than a glance after the disappearing tanuki. I’ve no idea if he can still find Kenta among the milling crowd, but then he pivots slowly in his saddle, eyes gliding over everyone near him. Seeking.

  He knows Kenta was a distraction, a ploy. He knows I have to be near.

  I slip over the side of the wagon before his gaze reaches me, keeping my head down and walking alongside it, pack in hand. Stormwind says nothing. With my back to Stonefall, I can’t tell what’s happening, but Stormwind’s stillness suggests that he hasn’t seen through her glamor yet. Not that I know precisely how easy it is to see through a glamor from a distance. Stormwind made it sound like a mage would have to be quite close to discern its effect, but Stonefall is used to hunting rogues. After all I’ve gone through, there’s no way I’m leading him or any other mage straight to Stormwind.

  “I’m leaving now,” I say just loudly enough for her to hear.

  She turns her head halfway toward me, as if she were speaking over her shoulder to the driver. “What shall I tell Kenta?”

  “Tell him I’m sorry. He needs to stay here, for the League. I’ll send word when I can. Tell him I have friends in the desert who can help me.”

  I expect her to argue, but she says only, “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Kenta can’t help me where I’m going. Make sure he doesn’t follow, or he’ll just leave another trail behind me for them to follow.”

  “I’ll tell him,” she agrees. “But I don’t know how well he’ll listen. Will you be able to reach your friends on your own?”

  “Yes. And I still have the feather. I’ll be fine.” It’s an exaggeration of epic proportions, but Stormwind doesn’t gainsay me. Instead, she slips her fingers into a pocket that doesn’t exist in her glamor, then holds her hand out to me. I reach over the high side of the wagon and take her offering. It is thin and round, wire and thread and bead. The look-away.

  I glance up at her, but she’s already turned away to watch the road. I can just make out her profile, past the edge of the old red scarf, steady and unsmiling.

  “Go in peace,” she says. That is all the farewell we can afford.

  “And you,” I murmur and step away from the wagon.

  I walk briskly to the next cross-street, sandwiched between the boundary walls guarding the neighboring houses. It’s hardly more than an alley, empty for now. Halfway down, I step into a recessed doorway, slide on the look-away and pull off the glamor charm. I wait a count of five breaths to ensure that anyone near the mouth of the alley has passed on and then walk back up to entrance to scan the street.

  Stormwind bumps along in the back of the wagon, now another block away and very near what looks like an open market square. Kenta is still not in sight — I doubt he’ll rejoin the wagon while Stonefall might see him. Stonefall himself is still there, walking his horse along the road and scanning the people as he goes. He knows I’m close. Knows it both from the glows
tone and the fact that it was stolen from him. Within minutes he will catch up with Stormwind, and whatever her glamor may be good for, I don’t doubt he’ll see through it from ten paces away. It is precisely the sort of thing he is trained for.

  My fault. My fault he has the glowstone — why didn’t I demand it back from him in his bed chamber? It’s too late for regrets, now, but that doesn’t stop me from having them.

  The horse behind him — the same little chestnut mare he brought to collect Stormwind with from our valley — means he intends to catch one of us. The glowstone makes it clear that he’s looking for me. I may not be able to use magic to defend myself now, but he owes me a debt and I will shred his honor to pieces if he attempts to take me back to the High Council.

  When he is still some thirty paces away, I loosen the look-away charm on my finger, sliding it halfway off for the briefest of moments. I feel its magic flicker around me. Stonefall’s gaze snaps to me as I jam the ring back on. A pair of young boys, walking between the two of us, glance toward the alley, blinking uncertainly. Then they shrug off the shadow they’d seen and continue on.

  Stonefall kicks his horse into a trot, swerving around the youths, the chestnut following after him. I turn and jog into the alley, keeping alongside the wall so I don’t accidentally get trampled. Twenty paces in, I feel a wall of magic flow up from the ground ahead of me. The magic curves around to join with the walls on either side of me, rushing past me in the space of a breath. I pivot, heart hammering, and watch as the magic — bluish white to my mage senses — jumps across the alley’s entryway, weaving itself together until it’s as impenetrable as armor.

  One should never underestimate a rogue hunter.

  The only things that remain within this makeshift prison with me are Stonefall sitting easily on his horse, and the second horse behind him. The chestnut rolls her eyes uncertainly, lifting one front hoof and then the other. His own mount stands perfectly still.

  Stonefall continues scanning the alley, trying to pin down my location. The moment I speak, he’ll find me, of course. He’ll find me regardless, because he knows what charm I’m wearing, what to look for. So I do the one thing I can think of before I lose my courage. I slide the look-away from my finger and wait.