But there was a shudder in his teasing that sounded as though he was disguising pain.
In the distance, I still heard voices calling for me, but they were growing fainter. Perhaps people were giving up trying to find me in the thick fog.
I should probably go and show them that I was safe and unhurt. But I didn’t want to leave him here. He was hurting and all alone. He deserved to at least have one friend here to comfort him.
Are you my friend, then, little hawk?
I could be. I would be if he would let me.
And I am yours. You are a true friend to me and so I make this vow. I will be bound to you until you die and I leave to journey without you. Until the end of your days and the last burst of your energy, I shall be your boon companion.
There was a bitter tinge to his words as if he was thinking of the last person he’d said that to.
My mouth felt dry at his words. They were too big. They were too much. No one should vow to be with me forever. No one would if they knew what that meant.
I know what it means, and you’re wrong. The words aren’t too big. They’re too small. If I could promise you more than this, I would.
But why make any promise? He was a free phoenix. He could fly off and let the winds take him wherever he would.
I cannot. You hold my heart.
I held nothing. And if he should pick to bind himself to anyone, maybe he should think about getting to know them first.
I told you, you hold my heart. There is nothing deeper than that. I cannot know anyone better than I will know you. I cannot wish anyone more happiness than I will wish for you.
I opened my hands, spreading my fingers wide. There was no heart in them.
I felt the echo of a laugh inside my chest.
I see smears of ash on your chest and face. That is my heart, little hawk. You wear it on cheek and breast like warpaint, like a talisman to ward off evil. And it is right that you have chosen to display me so boldly, for now, I rise to the challenge and pledge myself in return.
And was I meant to pledge the same thing?
You could – but I will die with the dawn. And your display of my ashes is more than enough.
My breath caught in my throat. He would die with the dawn? This gorgeous bright creature would only live for a single night? It felt like a crime. Like it couldn’t be right.
I shivered at the thought.
You are cold. When a phoenix is your friend, you should never be cold. How will we go on righteous quests together if you freeze to death?
How did he expect to quest at all in the length of a single night?
Worry not about that.
I supposed I should at least be glad that he’d never find out I was not good at quests, not good at much of anything beyond tending the sick, cooking, and cleaning.
Sit on this rock. The ground is too wet for sitting.
He fluttered up into the air and I complied. The rock was wide and slightly slanted so that all the rain ran off. I could stretch out across it entirely if I wanted to. But I was cold to the bone. I needed to huddle in on myself to keep warm.
To my surprise, the phoenix swooped through the air and landed on my lap. Was he bigger now? He felt heavy. And hot. Hot enough that suddenly my shivering was gone. I leaned into the heat, letting it wash over me.
I must sing the song of remembrance for Veela. It will take me until dawn, but it must be done. Stay with me.
I really shouldn’t. I should go down and set my family’s minds at ease. I should let them know I was not hurt or missing. I should go back to work tending the injured stranger.
Judicus Franzer Irault.
Who?
Veela’s companion was Judicus Franzer Irault. That must be who you are tending.
Yes, him. I definitely shouldn’t be settling down on the rock with my head pillowed on my arm and my body wrapped around a burning bird.
Phoenix. Get that right or I’ll launch into the sky and leave you here to shiver.
There was a slight teasing tone to his mental voice, but I corrected myself anyway.
Phoenix.
But I couldn’t leave him here to mourn alone. Especially not when he was about to spend the rest of his life for this one thing. It seemed – sacred. Honorable.
Respect blossomed within as I settled myself to wait with him.
His song started low and quiet – a mournful keening that made my heart weep. And as he continued, the song, slowly built on itself, higher and louder, unearthly and yet lovely. I wanted to talk more to him, and yet I didn’t want to interrupt what sounded like deep sorrow mixed with memories.
My eyelids were drooping, despite my hardest efforts to keep awake. I felt safe. I felt like someone was listening to me for the first time in my life. I never wanted to let go of that feeling.
I hear you, little hawk. I hear your heart.
It was so, so good, that I didn’t think I could stand it.
And then the singing turned to a wild dirge of despair and passion. It might rip me apart. My tears began to flow with his fiery ones as the music rose, fire and water, human and phoenix, we were bound in this moment as one.
In self-defense, my mind shut off and I fell deeply into sleep.
I woke to a whisper in my mind.
Dawn comes quickly. Rise, my little hawk.
Chapter Six
I sat up, horrified at the dull glow on the very edge of the horizon.
I’d wasted the night sleeping. A lump formed in my throat.
And where was the brokenhearted phoenix?
He wasn’t curled up beside me anymore. I stood up, frantic.
Over here. And my name is Kazmerev.
Kazmerev. It was a name with an adventure inside it.
My breath stuck in my chest at the sight of him. He stood beside the rock, but now he was the size of a horse. His dark feathers flickered, flames edging them, gusting into brilliance as little gouts of flame burst from the tips. Now, rather than small and innocent, he looked huge and deadly.
And he was about to go. About to leave me.
Sorrow plummeted through my heart. It had been so good to be heard by him. It had been so good to be near his warmth and sit with him in his sorrow. I liked him. So much.
I shall miss you, too, little hawk.
Sersha. I wanted him to know my name, at least.
I shall miss you, Sersha. May the dawn bring new hope.
Tension wrung my stomach as the mist slowly lightened and turned gold and then light flared bright and golden, slicing through the mist. The moment it hit him, he vanished in a puff of what looked like ash. Frantic, I tried to catch the little feathers of ash floating down but as quickly as I caught them, they faded into nothing.
My eyes stung with tears as the mist around me burned off the ground and the light warmed the rock and the grass.
One night of magic.
And I’d slept through it all.
Sersha, you will never have a future because you can’t even seize the moment when it drops right into your lap. You don’t speak up for what you want even when you do have a voice.
I forced that voice of blame down. It would do me no good now.
Swiping away the hot tears, I gritted my jaw.
Enough.
Self-pity didn’t help. Letting myself mourn for something I thought was impossible yesterday would just ruin the few glorious minutes I’d had. I should treasure them instead. It was like owning a pearl necklace for a day. Couldn’t you just enjoy it instead of being angry that you couldn’t keep it?
I would try to embrace gratitude instead of loss. I would try for joy.
I sniffed, drawing my despair back within and squaring my shoulders. There was work to do. I had shirked for too long.
I peered down from the hill, trying to see where I’d ended up outside of town. I was on one of the hills inland, looking over our sleeping town. The mist had fully retreated from the hills and as I watched, it burned off the town, revealing glow
ing smoke trails from every chimney reaching ambitiously toward the bright sky. The edge of the sea shone like silver – so bright it hurt my eyes and left little dark specks across my vision.
Wait.
Those were not specks caused by light. Those were boats.
Strange boats.
Almost at our shore.
My breath caught in my throat and I picked up my skirts and ran.
Raiders.
There were raiders here and the girl without the voice was the only one who had seen them. My feet felt loud as they struck the ground, each step like a drumbeat – but they weren’t nearly loud enough.
We hadn’t seen raiders since I was a little child. Not since my own parents were killed in a raid. Not since I lost my voice.
My heart was beating faster than my feet could fly and my lungs couldn’t catch up. Panic clawed up my throat and I forced it back by sheer willpower.
I didn’t remember the raiders killing my parents or taking my voice and Aunt Danna said that was a small miracle and that I shouldn’t think on it. Not now. Not ever.
I thought about it now as I raced for the town.
Push, Sersha, push! Run with all your might!
If I didn’t run hard and fast who might lose parents today? Who might lose a voice or a hand or their livelihood? There was never much in our little town for raiders to take – no chapel here with golden edged books or silver-plated relics. No lord here with fine fabrics and stocks of weapons. No merchants here with oils and spices. There were only the fishermen and the potter and the blacksmith and the ale at the inn.
Our family’s inn.
My muscles burned as I ran and my throat burned with them with the aching longing to speak, to yell, to scream my warning.
If only the phoenix had not died with the dawn. He could have warned them all. Maybe he even could have fought for us. Could phoenixes fight? I hadn’t asked Kazmarev.
I reached the edge of the empty town. We didn’t post regular guards. Why bother in a sleepy town like ours?
A rooster crowed, lonely and with regret, as though he had slept through his most important night just like me.
A few houses over, the butcher’s dog howled, and someone called for his quiet. There were the sounds of wood being split for morning cook fires, of sleepy people stepping out to use the back house. A baby cried somewhere.
And over it all the harshness of my breath sawed across my ears as I ran headlong, lungs screaming with strain, toward the center of town. The well was there. And so was the warning bell.
I’d never rung it before.
They rang it on feast days and the change of the year, but that was a coveted honor. I’d heard it ring the night of the fire, too. We’d lost half the stables that night and a horse.
I needed to ring it now.
I needed to get there before the raiders got to us.
I reached the bell at the same moment that my cousin Mally – startled and wide-eyed – leaned against the well beside it. She carried a pair of buckets on a pole and she dropped them when she saw me.
I wouldn’t have stopped to explain this to her even if I had a voice. This was too desperate. Too urgent.
“Sersha! We’ve all been looking for you! Where were you all night?”
The bell was on the top of a small wooden tower and the rope was tied just out of reach, up one of the three tower legs. If it was left where anyone could handle it, then the children would ring it.
I clambered up the leg of the tower, struggling for enough purchase to catch the rope.
“What are you doing, Sersha? Have you lost your mind?”
I ignored Mally, snatching the rope with one clawing hand, and pulling with all my might.
Bling Blang
Bling Blang
My heart was hammering faster than the bell when my cousin reached for me.
“You’ve gone crazy! First, you run off and now the bell? What’s gotten into you, Sersha? I told Mama that it was a bad idea to tell you about staying here. Wait, I told her. Wait until he goes. She’ll just get upset.”
I dodged her grip on my arm, but she managed to grab my skirt and tug me down from my precarious place at the bell.
I spun, looking her in the eye with my best no-nonsense look.
Her gasp told me she understood that I thought this was important, that I shouldn’t be stopped.
I needn’t have bothered.
A scream ripped through the town, followed by a roar of voices.
Chapter Seven
“Sersha! Sersha, come on!” My cousin tugged at my dress, stumbling in her frantic efforts to pull me after her. I found my balance in the mud and grabbed her hand, running with her toward the Hog’s Head Inn as screams rippled out from the edge of the village.
The sign of the Hog’s Head squeaked as it swung frantically in the stirring winds, dislodging a crow with an angry squawk as my uncle Llynd and cousin Gandy slammed the door behind them. They both gripped heavy cudgels and Llynd held a meat cleaver in his left hand.
“Inside,” Uncle Llynd grunted when he saw us, not bothering to stop as he trotted toward the screams. His bluff face was set against the violence ahead. Gandy’s mouth was screwed up in concentration. This would be the first fight he’d been in that didn’t involve dragging drunken patrons off each other.
My stomach did a flip at the sight of them ready for battle and my gaze dragged after them as if I could keep them safe just by watching.
“Hurry, Sersha!” Mally reminded me, her tugs frantic. “Mama will need our help barring the doors and shuttering the windows!”
We scrambled inside only to nearly be knocked back again by Aunt Danna. She held a cast iron pan in both her fists, her face set with determination.
“Girls!” She puffed out a relieved breath. “Mally, get these windows shuttered and then get the other pan! Sersha, go check that the little girls are not leaving their room and check on that injured man.”
“Madam innkeeper?” someone from the stairs called down. “Are we in danger?”
“No, no,” Aunt Danna said, her voice changing from fierce determination to forced cheerfulness. “We’ll be fine here, just stay in your room. I’ll send Sersha up with tea in a moment.”
Of course, it would be me. This was one of those moments when it was handy to have staff who couldn’t panic your patrons by saying the wrong thing. I frowned at that. I didn’t like being used.
I hurried into the back to obey.
My youngest cousins were playing happily on the floor of their bedroom and I made signs to tell them to stay put. They ignored me but seemed interested in staying where they were, so I moved on.
The injured man lay still in Mally’s bed.
Judicus Franzer Irault. That’s what Kazmarev had called him.
I checked his wound. It was angry looking and very swollen, but when I sniffed it, I smelled no rot. The wound had not turned bad, but unless we could beat back whatever was making it swell, he wouldn’t be moving from this bed.
Carefully, I cleaned the skin again and rebandaged the wound, and then checked his forehead. He was burning up. I wet a cloth, wrung it out, and put it on his forehead. He needed more feverfew tea. I’d have to brew that.
I paused for a moment, scanning his pale face, looking for signs of anything I was missing. His expression was drawn and his cheeks sunken.
Did he know his companion had died? Did he know what that meant for her phoenix friend?
I drew in a worried breath and bit my lip. Were those raiders after him? Was that what drew them to our shores after so many years?
A sheen of sweat coated his brow.
And then all at once, his eyes shot open and his hand grabbed my wrist. I froze, my hand still in the act of bathing his forehead.
“Ashani masai tanarentak,” he whispered and then shook his head violently and said, “the ai’sletta. In this town. There’s a medallion in my pocket. Take it.”
I shook my head. He was delirious.<
br />
“Take it,” he begged me. “The ai’sletta must be kept safe. Take the medallion and use it to find ...”
He passed out again and I let out a long breath. He must not know where he was. There was no ai’sletta here – whatever that was. We were just common folk.
But I checked his coat pocket anyway. And I drew out a bronze medallion. On one side it held a small turquoise stone and on the other, there was a pattern that looked like a constellation.
I squinted as I looked at it, shocked to realize that the pattern really did look familiar. I just couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. Was it a star constellation? No.
I shook my head. There was no time for Ai’sletta’s right now anyway. I tucked the medallion in my pocket. And hurried away to brew him more feverfew and take tea up to the frantic guests above.
I was halfway up the stairs with a tray when something crashed into the door of the inn, making the whole place shudder.
My tray crashed to the ground, crockery breaking and tea spilling everywhere. A second crash and I fell against the wall, barely breaking my fall. I bit my tongue and tasted blood.
The raiders had reached the inn.
Chapter Eight
I reached for the tray, my hand shaking as I scrambled to collect shards of pottery from the hot spill. My aunt’s voice cut through my panic.
“Sersha! The children. Defend the children!”
I dropped the shards, rushing down the steps and stumbling around the corner into the kitchen, nearly bumping into Mally as she rounded the corner, the second cast iron pan in her capable hands.
“Mally!” my aunt called. Her voice held an edge. She was barely holding in her own fear.
The sound of splintering wood made my heart speed. They were at our door.
“Right here!” my cousin called calmly, joining her mother in front of the door, pan raised. The bar across the door shook as something crashed into the inn a third time.
My mouth was dry, hands shaking. But I must be brave, too. I turned and raced into the kitchen, snatched up a knife, and hurried into the back rooms.
Phoenix Heart: Episode 1: Ashes Page 3
