Of Embers

by Amily Cabelaris

  Ilvara gives them all a weak smile. “I suppose it’s settled.”

  “We’d better start walking,” Caius says.

  “I’ve called my maid to bring us a wagon and horses,” Ilvara tells them, “as her final act of service to me. It should be here within the hour. Let’s sit and rest awhile before it arrives.”

  They take seats against the inside of the arch where the full force of the rain is lessened. Asher asks Grogar if he can hold Alesia while they rest. Caius ensures the cloak is secure around her body and face, then leans his head back against the wall, letting the spray of the rain splatter his face and gather in the creases of his mouth and eyes. He loses himself in the defiant howl of the wind, in each crack of thunder. He lets the darkness pull him in, wrapping cold fingers around him, blurring his consciousness.

  Caius is before a crystal blue pool in the midst of a sandy plateau. The water is still, clear to the very bottom. He plunges his hands toward it, suddenly parched. Before his fingers touch the water, it rises up of its own accord. He falls back as it is sucked into a column above the surface, shifting and shaping. Slowly, it takes the form of a woman.

  Of her.

  She steps onto the sand, her watery foot not changing its dry surface. When he stands, her form is true to life, the top of her head barely reaching the middle of Caius’ chest. He raises a trembling hand toward her, but a gust of frigid air sweeps over them in that moment, freezing the column of standing water to solid ice. Caius reaches forward again. Gently, he strokes the slick surface of her cheek, marveling.

  Tiny cracks arc across her cheek where his fingers have touched, like scars. One clefts her lip. A few slice into her cheek. The fine lines spread across her body in waves, until every inch of her is covered with them. Then, after a moment of uncertain silence, her entire body shatters into thousands of pieces.

  Caius starts with a numbing jolt. He wipes water from his face and eyes, squinting through the darkness and rain. A small wagon sits with its pair of horses outside the city gates. There’s a long box in the cart of the wagon. Caius joins the rest of the men at the back of it.

  “What’s that for?” he asks quietly.

  With Alesia in his arms, Asher glances at Caius’ chest. Caius looks down. Her cloak has been dampened by the rain, pushing a corner down to reveal a portion of her pale skin. With sickening dread, he realizes what the box is. Her coffin.

  Grogar is already on the cart, affixing a sort of canopy over it with a large blanket and some sticks from nearby. Caius approaches automatically. Grogar takes Alesia from Asher and lays her in the wagon bed, then extends his arms to Caius.

  Caius tightens his grip. “I’ll settle her,” he barks, harsher than he intended.

  Grogar just shrugs and hops out, rounding to the front. Caius steps into the cart, Ilvara behind him. Carefully, he lays his bundle in the coffin, being sure to place her hands over her chest, over the dagger mark beneath her dress. Asher arranges Alesia on the other side of the coffin. Ilvara situates herself next to Caius.

  “Ready?” Grogar calls from the front.

  “Ready,” Asher says. Caius catches his glance.

  Caius gazes down at her, spreading her hood to see more of her face. Their time together was so painfully brief. If he would have known, he wouldn’t have waited so long to get to know her. He would have never told her about who he’d been. Then, she wouldn’t have stabbed him. She might still be…

  He shakes his head. Leo’s words. He couldn’t have just gone back to Tarreth without telling her. But then…was that selfish? Was sharing the burden of truth with her worth what happened? She deserved to know, but it caused all this. What if he hadn’t told her?

  He closes her hood gently, shutting her face away from him. He hates the dark cloud of guilt when he looks at her now.

  A feminine hand appears on his wrist. He meets Ilvara’s eyes.

  “Why don’t we close the lid?” she suggests. “We must not torture ourselves this entire trip. Your daughter needs you.”

  Caius just notices the bumping and swaying of the cart. On the other side of the coffin, Asher tucks the blankets more securely around Alesia, whispering softly to her. It’s good she is unconscious. The movement would be uncomfortable for her.

  As he closes the lid of the coffin, Caius says, “No, Alesia doesn’t need me.”

  Ilvara follows his gaze. She touches his arm. “Get some rest,” she says, then moves to the end of the wagon. She curls up there, facing the rain outside. Caius watches her try to get comfortable on the rough wood for a few moments before handing her a blanket.

  “Goodnight,” he says to her. He leans back against the wooden wall. The motion rocks him into a fitful sleep.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “No… No!”

  Ilvara is jerked awake. Everything is dark like the depths of Blackmist Pond. Her eyes struggle to focus.

  “I…I can’t see you. Where are you? Where are you? Come back!”

  A large hand bumps into her shoulder, shoving her forward into the reach of the rain. She gasps as it trickles cold down her sweating neck, and instinctively pushes herself away from it, backward into Caius. He digs his fingers into her shoulder tightly. She twists around, struggling to seize his wrists. She shoves them down with one hand and gropes for his face with the other. He’s trembling violently.

  “Shh,” she whispers. “Caius, shh. You’re all right.”

  “What’s going on?” Grogar asks. Ilvara didn’t notice the wagon had stopped until now.

  “Caius was dreaming,” she says. “Ride on.”

  Caius is very still beneath her. He draws a deep breath. His low voice is so shredded with pain that Ilvara can’t hold back her tears. “Where is she?”

  “She’s gone,” Ilvara whispers, touching his face gently. “You were dreaming.”

  The only noise for a long moment is the wagon crunching slowly over wet stones, sloshing through muddy puddles while the rain showers the region.

  Finally, Caius says, “I know.”

  He falls back against the wooden panel connecting the driver’s seat to the rest of the cart. Ilvara can feel his shoulders shake. He moves to cover his face with his hands.

  “Apologies,” he whispers.

  Ilvara leans back into her own sleeping spot. The edge of the coffin is digging into her calf. It’s all…so much…

  “Get some sleep,” she whispers back to him. She prays he will not dream again.

  Chapter 7

  Phantom

  Morning light arrives ever so slowly, ebbing out the rain and casting pinkish rays of sunshine across the now-open plains between the arms of the forest. The wagon paused for only a brief span in the night to allow its horses and driver some respite, and to add another blanket to the dripping one overhead. Otherwise, there has been undisturbed travel.

  “We’ll arrive long before Chancellor Meeves has his midday meal,” Grogar announces to the wagon bed.

  Ilvara wakes fully and sits up. Her shoulder is sore where Caius grabbed her in the night. Now, he’s curled into a space too small for him, between the coffin and wagon side, still sleeping.

  Asher rises on the other side of the coffin, yawning. His attention turns at once to Alesia, adjusting her blanket, brushing aside her hair. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he meets Ilvara’s eyes.

  “Could you check her for me? I don’t know how she is,” he says quietly.

  Ilvara crawls toward him. Alesia is very warm to the touch. The bandages tied hastily around her chest wounds are hot. She touches Alesia’s face.

  Alesia’s eyes open slightly—one blue, one brown. “Mama?”

  Ilvara swallows hard. “No, dear. My name is Ilvara.”

  The girl’s unique eyes roll around the wagon enclosure for a moment. She finds Asher. “Where are we?”

  “We’re on the way to Tarreth. We’re going to find the best healers for you,” Asher says.

  “Tarreth?” Her eyes close tightly, a whimper escaping her
lips. “Where’s Mama?”

  Asher and Ilvara exchange a look.

  “We don’t know,” Asher says.

  “I can’t go to Tarreth,” she weeps softly. “They’ll mock me for my shabby clothes. I can’t beg for food. Where’s Mama?”

  “Shh,” Ilvara says, cradling her cheek. “There’s no need to beg for food. We have plenty. We’ll take good care of you until you see your mother again. How do you feel?”

  Alesia furrows her brows. “Um…Cold. I feel cold. And my chest hurts so much. And I’m thirsty.”

  “Water. Do we have any water?” Asher asks Ilvara.

  Ilvara reaches back into her satchel, pulling out a skin. “Here.”

  Alesia takes a long drink. Water dribbles down her chin. Limply, she lays her head back. “I feel so tired,” she says.

  “Rest,” Asher says. “I’m glad to see you awake. That means you’re getting better. Just sleep. We’ll be in Tarreth before long.”

  Ilvara eyes him. “Asher,” Ilvara says quietly, pulling him toward the end of the wagon.

  “What? You look worried.”

  Ilvara nods. “I’m afraid she is not doing well at all. Her wounds are hot to the touch, and she’s feverish. Those are signs of infection.”

  Asher’s eyes go wide, settling on Alesia. “No…but she’s awake.”

  “Those treating her last night must not have dressed her wounds. That, or the injuries are too deep.”

  “I tried to cleanse them as best I could, but I’ve never had a gift for healing,” Asher says.

  “It isn’t your fault. We’ll be in Tarreth soon. The priests at the Shrine will know what to do.” Ilvara lays her hand on his shoulder.

  He nods, face pale. “Yes, I hope so. Can you cast some healing, just for now?”

  “I know it will be weak,” Ilvara says, pulling back her sleeves, “but I can try.”

  She lays her hands on Alesia’s chest and murmurs the spell. Faint red light glows around her fingers, but fades fast. Ilvara shifts back from them.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “That’s all I can do.”

  “Thank you,” Asher replies.

  Caius rises slowly. Asher and Ilvara both glance at him from the end of the cart, then back at each other.

  “I’m sorry about…” Caius trails off.

  “Do not fret,” Ilvara says.

  Caius nods. After a moment of awkward silence, he calls out, “Grogar, could you stop for a moment so I can ride up there? I need some air.”

  In response, the wagon slows to a stop. Caius crawls out, stretching his legs a moment before disappearing around the wagon. Ilvara sits back against the wagon bed. Their voices carry through the early morning breeze.

  “Nice morning, isn’t it?” Grogar says.

  Caius sighs. “I suppose. How much farther?”

  “A little over an hour. The rain didn’t hinder us much.”

  “Did you even sleep?”

  “Yes, we stopped briefly, but I can go much longer without sleep than you humans.”

  “There were Orcs at the Guild of Warriors. You’re an interesting lot.”

  “When did you serve there?” Grogar asks.

  “Since I was about eighteen until I came here. My Guild Master recommended me to Hamish Bertrand.”

  “Had you met Asher then?”

  Caius laughs once. “No, or else I may have reconsidered taking the position.”

  Grogar chuckles. “I met him in the main hall of the castle on one of his first days here. I was speaking with Evelyn when he decided he should intervene. Pompous fool.”

  Ilvara catches Asher rolling his eyes. She smiles gently. “You’ve gotten so much better,” Ilvara whispers to him. At Asher’s grimace, she shuts her eyes. “Apologies.”

  Ilvara stretches out her cramped legs, uncomfortable in the lengthy silence. “Grogar, can we stop soon?” she calls to the front.

  “There’s a stream just ahead, right as we enter the forest. Will that do?”

  “That will be fine.”

  Grogar slows the horses when they arrive. Ilvara crawls out of the wagon bed. She yawns, rubbing aching muscles, sighing with relief as the warm breeze washes over her. Asher takes Alesia carefully from the back while Caius jumps down from the driver’s seat with Grogar.

  The clearing is shaded with leafy foliage. Wildflowers sprout between the shrubs and weeds. Ilvara kneels at the stream to splash her face with water, shivering as it cools her skin.

  A shadow passes over her. Caius cups water next to her to drink. Ilvara wipes her mouth. She gazes over the serene clearing.

  “Isn’t it strange,” she says, “how the same sun shines, the same stream flows, and the same breeze dances through the leaves as it did when Evelyn was still here.”

  Caius sits back, elbows on his knees. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. “We cleaned our kills upstream from this very spot. It is strange.”

  Ilvara wraps her arms around herself. “I must admit, I am jealous that you got to spend so much of these last weeks with her. The last time I saw her was…” She stares off at the distant trees, the picture materializing, “when she was dragging you out of the castle.”

  Caius’ mouth tips. “The prison escape. Yes, that was her idea. Pretending to take me as her prisoner.” He chuckles softly.

  “I don’t see the humour of it. Those guards would have killed both of you. What were you thinking?”

  Caius’ small smile disappears. He doesn’t meet Ilvara’s eye. “I don’t know. She had to escape. Hadrian sentenced her to life and death in that cell. I went to see her in the night. It all happened so fast.”

  “What happened so fast?”

  Caius’ eyes are sharp as daggers. “I mean the escape. I would never hurt her.”

  Ilvara feels it all falling out of her hands. She rises. “I know. I didn’t mean to imply anything. My apologies.”

  Caius stands with her. “I understand that you’re hurting. We all are. But don’t start casting blame. The fault lies with the woman who killed her.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “What happened was an accident. That’s all.”

  “I know. Caius, I’m not blaming you.”

  He furrows his brows at her, like she said the opposite. With a wave of his hand, he’s gone into the forest.

  Asher glances away when Ilvara turns to see if anyone overheard. He pretends to adjust Alesia’s blanket as he situates her near the water.

  “I need a moment,” Ilvara says, fleeing into the forest. Away from it all.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  During her few minutes alone, Ilvara sits on the forest floor, letting the calm silence sweep over her. She struggles to clear her mind, to push out thoughts of Hadrian, Lockmire, Caius, and the future out of her mind, to be content with nothing for a moment. With Evelyn gone now, it’s difficult to make sense of anything. It’s difficult to see the fairness in it. It’s difficult to see what purpose the gods had in not answering her desperate prayers. It’s difficult to believe in their benevolence.

  Caius worries her. He looks as though he could kill at a minor provocation. What might Evelyn’s death prompt in them? Will Caius grieve and move on? Or is this only the beginning of a dark shift in him? Evelyn told her he was a bandit before. So has that darkness always been there, just below the surface?

  The rustle of leaves snaps her head up. Something black moves across the distant trees. Ilvara blinks quickly.

  “Caius?” She rises. “Asher?” They weren’t wearing anything particularly dark before. She glances around for it again. “Hello?”

  Uneasy, Ilvara heads back to the stream. Asher holds Alesia on a blanket at the edge of the water, gently cleansing her face, telling her a story about ducklings he once found on the riverside. Caius comes into view from a cluster of trees to the right. Grogar is caring for the horses.

  “Were you following me out there?” Ilvara asks Caius.

  “No,” he replies, his face twisting with discomf
ort.

  “I saw something,” she says.

  “A person?” Grogar asks, coming over to her.

  Ilvara nods. “A dark figure, like it was wearing a black cloak or robe.”

  “Sit down,” Asher suggests. “Eat something. Perhaps you were imagining it. You could not have slept well.”

  Ilvara slumps to the blanket, dislodging the satchel from her back. She opens the flap. “I’m sure it was real.”

  Grogar takes out his sword. “Which direction?”

  Ilvara points. “Don’t hurt them unless you must.”

  He nods, but disappears eagerly into the trees. Perhaps he feels the weight of the law no longer presses on him.

  Ilvara divides bread for each of them, even though she isn’t hungry. A long gulp of water from her skin sates her for now. Caius has one bite of his bread before he places it back on the blanket.

  A scream cuts through the quiet morning air. A figure dressed in dark robes races out from the trees into the clearing, toward the open meadow. The men and Ilvara jump to their feet at once.

  Asher is the closest, but Caius is faster. In seconds, he’s directly behind the escaping figure. He snatches the robes in a fist and tugs them to the ground, pinning flailing arms to the dirt. The hood shakes off, revealing a female face beneath him.

  “Maven,” Asher gasps.

  Ilvara covers her mouth. Maven. The woman who…

  Caius’ hands go around her throat in a moment, cutting off a feral scream. Grogar hauls him off by the arms. Asher grabs her when she tries to run again.

  “Stop,” Grogar commands, barely able to hold Caius back. “Who is she? What’s going on?”

  “She’s the one,” Caius growls, teeth bared, panting hard. “She’s the one who killed her.”

  “It was supposed to be you,” Maven shouts. “You should be dead, not Evelyn. She got in my way.”

  “What are you doing here?” Asher demands, tightening his grip on her. “And where did you get these?” He pinches the fabric of her robe.

  “I went back to my cabin after you were gone.” Maven’s eyes flicker behind Ilvara, to the stream. “Alesia…She’s hurt, isn’t she?”