Of Embers

by Amily Cabelaris

  “Is her brother still ill?”

  “Yes, but he went to stay with his aunt on the other side of the city.”

  “That should be all right, then. I’ll let Priscilla know.”

  She grins. “Thank you.”

  “Wait. I’m writing a letter to your father in Esterden. Would you like to send him anything?”

  Alesia’s smile fades. “You told him about Mama?”

  “Yes.”

  She thinks for a moment. “Tell him I say ‘hello.’”

  Asher chuckles, picking up his quill. “All right.”

  “I’ll see you later this evening. We’re still taking a walk, right?”

  “If you have time. It seems everyone is demanding your attention today.”

  Alesia laughs and leaves him. Asher jots her greeting at the bottom of the letter. As he does, a pang hits him. When all of this is over, will Alesia live with Caius and Evelyn? He tries not to think of that distant future too much. Who knows what the war could bring about?

  Asher can hear Kreston’s voice outside somewhere. The sound grates him. He tried to control himself when Kreston donated all that money, but it hurt to see that man do what Asher himself has wanted to do since he first heard of the Sanctuary’s predicament. Kreston was able to swoop in and save Priscilla from having to work as a servant. In a single moment, he made Asher feel like a fool.

  Asher thinks of this morning’s sermon. About what Gabriel said about forgiveness and bitterness. He hopes that the ministers heard it, too. And Gabriel’s wife, who has made Priscilla feel terrible for weeks. Where has their forgiveness been?

  He thinks of himself as well. Of how he feels toward Kreston. Gabriel was right, but being angry at Kreston does not feel unjustified. After all, he broke Priscilla’s heart. And he’s got a lofty manner. Asher does not quite trust him.

  He pinches a fold into the parchment. Mother once visited the Sanctuary every week, but stopped because of some “theatrics.” Asher wonders now if Kreston and Priscilla were the cause of those. Priscilla has not told him the specifics, but it must be unpleasant for her to recall.

  On the morrow, Asher has another appointment to meet with Captain Bertrand. Hopefully, things will start moving on this war. Autumn will be here soon, and with it, the cold and snow. Battle will be doubly difficult with numb fingers frozen to steel swords and storms that coat the world in thick sheets of ice and snow.

  He lights a candle and seals the letter with a few drops of wax. He presses Tarreth’s lion into the wax with his ring. In a way, he is glad not to be listening to Kreston and Priscilla’s conversation. He must trust her to do the right thing. He cannot think of anything more. For once, he must do what is right and stop listening to his heart, no matter how loudly it shouts.

  He knocks a book from the shelf as he rises. It falls open, spilling out a small necklace and a folded letter. Asher kneels to pick up the items. The charm is of Lacetus, a lizard god worshipped in Lembross. Asher knows he should not poke around in Priscilla’s belongings, but one glance at the letter catches his attention immediately.

  Priscilla,

  I’ve met a wonderful woman who would like to marry me. She’s a widow and has two children. I think I’ll do it. But I’ll never forget what we had.

  Much love,

  Kreston.

  Asher glances up from the smudged ink as the pieces fit together. This is all he left her with? This note obviously torn from another piece of parchment? Of all the people who deserve such a heartless separation, Priscilla is perhaps the last. Why does she keep this? Why does she torture herself with this charm and this note?

  Why… unless she still loves him?

  Priscilla peeks into the room. “Find everything?” Her eyes flicker to his hands, and her expression slackens. “What—?”

  “I’m sorry,” Asher says, shoving the items back into the book. “It fell open when I knocked against it.”

  Priscilla snatches the book from him. “The note too? This is private, Asher.”

  Surprised at her biting response, Asher steps back. “I know. I didn’t mean to…”

  “You read it?”

  “Yes. I didn’t really mean to.”

  “I can’t believe you.” Priscilla tosses the book onto her bed. “When I said you could use my supplies, I didn’t mean you could peruse my belongings.”

  “I know. I—”

  “I thought you had some respect for me.”

  “I do.”

  “I thought you cared.”

  Asher stares at her for a long moment. “By the gods, Priscilla. I care more than you know. But if I would have known you only mean to humiliate me, perhaps I wouldn’t care so much.”

  “Humiliate you?”

  “Kreston donated all that money, and you didn’t blink an eye. And you brought me along on that walk in the pretense of being appropriate when you just wanted to show me you still have feelings for the man who left you.” Asher shakes his head. “I’ve let myself be made the fool.”

  “I never said… I loved him once, but… You don’t know how difficult it is—”

  “You don’t have to explain.” Asher holds up the parchment and charm. “This said it all. Why else would you keep it unless you hoped he’d return?”

  “I told you. I’m trying to let it all go.”

  “So you have no feelings left for him then? What were you talking about after I left?”

  “That’s private,” Priscilla says. “You have no right to ask that of me.”

  “Exactly. I have no right. So stop leading me along, giving me hope.”

  Priscilla scrunches her face. “Hope? Hope for what?”

  Asher hesitates. He’s said too much. “Nothing.”

  He shoves the items back into her hands and brushes past her. Down the stairs. The courier is just coming up the street when he bursts out of the Sanctuary. He gives him his letter without pausing. His brisk walk takes him through the quiet city streets. He wishes it were any other day than Solisdie, so the crowds could drown out the miserable noise in his head.

  Mother glances up from a book as he walks toward the house.

  “You’re home early,” she says.

  “I’m going to Esterden.”

  She leaps to her feet and follows him inside. “You’re what?”

  “I’ll send Bertrand a letter when I arrive. Tell Father.”

  “But…Tarreth has not officially declared war. Lord Krassis is coming soon to meet with Chancellor Meeves.”

  Asher clomps up to his old bedchamber and shoves clothes into a large satchel. “There is nothing for me here, Mother. I’m tired of waiting around for things to happen. It’s time to go out and make them happen.”

  Mother grabs his arm. “Surely there will be scouts circling Esterden for any attackers. They’ll recognize you and kill you on the spot.”

  “I’ll take Francine with me. She’s an excellent healer.”

  Mother’s face turns white. “Take your baby sister with you, once again, into enemy hands? Have you lost your mind?”

  Asher grabs her shoulders. “No, I’ve finally found it. I need to do this.”

  “What happened? Did something happen at the Sanctuary? Is this about the girl?”

  Asher shuts his eyes. Priscilla’s expression swims in his mind. “There’s a war, Mother. I am a general, and I need to do what is right. I need to fulfill my duty,”—he squeezes her shoulders, adding with a note of pain, “—for once in my life.”

  “What happened in Lockmire wasn’t your fault. You’re a successful leader, Asher. You are capable of such greatness.”

  “And I’m going now to prove that.” Asher kisses her cheek. “Farewell.”

  “Asher, please don’t go.”

  He shuts the door behind him before she can get another word out.

  Chapter 31

  Sinking

  Lucius Trent stands up from his chair when Caius walks in.

  “Welcome, Callus.”

  “C
aius.”

  “So sorry.” He bows deeply. “Lucius, please.”

  “Pleasure,” Caius says.

  “Have a seat.”

  Caius eyes the guard next to him. “Are you going to stay?”

  “Go,” Lucius says. “He’s fine.”

  The guard gives Caius a cold look, but goes anyway. Caius takes a seat.

  “I apologize for the time it took to arrange a meeting with you,” Lucius begins. “I meant to do this weeks ago when the girl first came to me. I’ve just been so busy. I suppose that’s why I need an assistant.”

  Caius waves a hand, indicating it is all right.

  “So, she told me you know everything about plants,” the wizard goes on.

  Caius smirks. “She exaggerates. I know a little.”

  Lucius plucks a faded pink flower from his desk. “What is this?”

  “I don’t know the name.”

  “Do you know anything about it?”

  Caius tries to relax, but cannot shake his sense of unease at speaking with Leo’s father. “It takes away inflammation and infection. It’s fairly common.”

  “Ah… What about this?” Lucius pulls on a glove and holds up a red-capped mushroom.

  “That’s an extremely poisonous mushroom,” Caius says. “I’ve made a tincture of those mushrooms and tipped my arrows with them. It can be used as poison, for hunting.”

  “I hope you abstained from the meat.”

  “I just wanted to test if it would actually poison the creature. I wanted to kill a wolf with a single shot.”

  “How fast did it work?”

  “It took awhile. Eventually, I had to put the beast out of its misery. Then I was afraid the meat would be tainted, so I had to dispose of the carcass. I never poisoned my arrows again.”

  “Interesting.” Lucius taps his fingers together. His eyes remind Caius of a beast of prey. Sizing him up. Evaluating.

  “So?” Caius finally says. He wonders if Lucius is going to hold up every plant in Ardellon and ask what it does. But instead, the man asks,

  “How well did you know my son?”

  Caius sweeps a bit of dirt off his trouser leg. He drags his eyes back up to the wizard across the desk. “Well enough.”

  “You trained him.”

  “I tried.”

  “He wasn’t any good?”

  “He was”—Caius gazes past Lucius’ head, out the window at the black Peaks— “easily distracted.”

  “Explain.”

  “He seemed obsessed with Evelyn, the girl who told you about me. He let his feelings make him stupid.”

  Lucius nods slowly. “I see. And where is he now?”

  “I thought he would have run back here, but I suppose he scampered off. Who knows where?”

  “Why would he run back here?”

  “I don’t know. This is where he came from.”

  Lucius rises. “He never belonged here. And I haven’t seen him since he left months ago to join up.” He lays his hands on the balcony rail, facing the distant mountains.

  “Will I do as an assistant?” Caius asks from his seat.

  After a long moment, Lucius turns back. “I don’t know if you’re qualified.”

  “Do you want to ask me about more plants?”

  “No.” Lucius waves a hand as he takes his seat again. “I have a feeling you know all that. Just help me with my current project, and we shall see.”

  “And what is that?”

  Lucius looks up over his interlocked fingers. “Help me get rid of the dragons.”

  Caius pauses. “Get rid of them?”

  Lucius lowers his voice. “This bloody alliance with the bandits is disgraceful. You and I both know the dragons will only make things worse. They’ll destroy all of Ardellon if the bandits continue to control them.”

  “You want to kill the dragons?”

  “It’s the only way. Then, no one can use them.”

  A pang hits Caius. Too many innocent things have died at his hand. The dragons, though massively destructive, are innocent in themselves. They never harm other creatures unless provoked. They would have never even surfaced if not for man’s intervention.

  “How do we kill one dragon, much less all of them?” Caius asks.

  Lucius raises a finger, pulling a sheet of parchment from the top of the stack. “I’ve been going over that. Trying to find the right kind of poison. Something that kills them from the inside.”

  “Couldn’t we just order the dragons back underground where they came from? Surely the bandits aren’t brave enough to venture down there to bring them up again.”

  “But they could. No, eliminating them altogether is the only answer.”

  Such thinking seems rather backwards. Caius leans forward. “Are you certain? The bandits are the problem here.”

  “Bandits will always exist,” the wizard says tiredly. “If we can poison the dragons, poison their nests, we can wipe them out.”

  “You’re talking about snuffing out an entire species. Do you know how that might affect Ardellon? We’d be overrun with terbeas.”

  “Grubs are the least of our issues here. Think of the thousands of human lives that will be spared if the dragons are gone.” Lucius’ eyes light with a wicked fire and his voice drops again. “Think of the riches we’ll attain from their bones, their skin, their teeth. Not to mention the fire crystals.”

  Finally, his true intentions. “It takes immense strength and speed to skin a dragon before it burns up,” says Caius doubtfully. “And the fire crystals…”

  “The rarest jewel in Aranea.” Lucius rushes to a display case and unlocks it. With trembling hands, he lifts a hunk of the black jewel from its velvety bed. “This is all I’ve ever seen of one.”

  Light shimmers across the black facets, but doesn’t filter through. Caius can’t help but stare in wonder.

  “Nearly as hard as diamond,” says Lucius in a soft voice. “The crystals in a dragon’s throat that spark flame. Selling this would make me richer than Lord Krassis.”

  “Then why do you keep it?” Caius asks, looking up from the gem.

  “For my experiments.” The wizard lays it back in its case and locks it. He dips his thumb in the base of a burning candle and brushes a streak of wet wax against the seam of the case. “I’ve tried making a small chip of it clear and refracting light through it.”

  “Why?”

  “Any number of reasons. Decorations in furniture, jewelry, embellishments on armour or weapons. Even tools. I’ve had orbs of glass reflect sun rays and cause fires. But fire crystals are so dense. Could they harness more of the sun’s power?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “This is the future, Callus. Someday, every noble in Ardellon—in Aranea—will have something with fire crystals in it. Who knows what these little beauties are capable of? They could probably cure diseases, or realign the energy of the air.”

  Caius shuffles to his feet. “I don’t think I want to be involved in this.”

  “What? I thought—”

  “I’m not interested in killing dragons for my own selfish gain.”

  Lucius recoils. “But you are a man intrigued by nature, as am I. That’s why you tipped your arrows, no?”

  “I’ve spent too much time killing innocent things. It’s needless.”

  “They’re beasts. And they’ve killed hundreds of innocent people. Are you saying you value the life of a beast over your fellow man?”

  Caius stabs a finger down onto the desk. “Bandits controlled them in that. They’re the real beasts. I believe in killing when necessary, but dragons don’t deserve to die. Fight the real enemy.”

  Lucius stands, dropping his voice to a hiss. “Don’t you see? This is the only way. Bandits crawl out of every lump of garbage like maggots. And as long as there’s garbage, there will be bandits. Destroying the dragons removes their biggest weapon.”

  “I was one of them once,” Caius says, punctuating the words with a jab at the desk. “I kn
ow what it feels like to be worth nothing but the innocent lives you take. Their biggest weapons are not the dragons. It’s their evil hearts. They’ll never stop destroying.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Lucius drops back to his seat. He leans back, crosses his arms, and watches Caius as if trying to read his mind.

  Caius thinks of the plan to kill Krassis. Restore Ilvara to Lockmire. Hope Tarreth kills the bandits and maybe Esterden with them. But he can’t expose his ideas to this man, whose mind is obviously as infected as the rest with greed and selfishness and delusion.

  “I don’t know,” Caius says.

  Lucius tilts his head. “I suppose that’s a smart thing to say.”

  Caius shrugs, but doesn’t respond.

  The wizard sighs. “Well, if you’re not going to help me, you might as well let me get back to my work.”

  Caius turns. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your garden digging,” Lucius calls behind him, a hint of humour in his voice.

  “Enjoy playing with your rocks,” Caius calls before he meets his guard outside the door.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A silver dragon rises on its hind legs. Its body glitters as if covered in diamonds, shimmering in the bright sunlight. At once, the sky goes black. A sharp scream rips from the dragon’s throat. It tenses, shivers, then falls forward, landing with a great quake, its back peppered with arrows.

  Its black eyes roll upward, full of pain and helplessness. With a trembling moan, it lies still. Fire explodes from its body. Caius startles awake.

  “Shh,” says a voice.

  Caius sits up in his dark room. “Who’s there?”

  “Be quiet.” The voice is male. Harsh. Very quiet. “I’m a friend.”

  “Do you need something? I’m sleeping here.”

  “I heard Lucius Trent is against the bandits. Wants to kill all the dragons.”

  Caius’ hazy mind churns. “What makes you think that?”

  “Heard you talking. We guards hear a lot.”

  In the darkness, Caius reaches for the dagger tucked between his bed and the wall. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “A friend of mine wants a fire crystal.”

  This alone convinces Caius that the bandits and the Esterden guards are one and the same. “Tell him to go kill a dragon, then.”