Reign of Ash

by Gail Z. Martin

  “We were in no mood to be attacked,” Piran retorted. “We were a bunch of miserable sons of bitches looking for someone to take it out on.”

  “When the locals saw themselves being attacked by a regiment of pantless men covered in shit, they were so startled they ran away and surrendered,” Niklas said, holding his stomach as he laughed.

  “‘Startled’ doesn’t quite do it justice,” Piran said with a defensive tone in his voice. “We won the battle. Our cowardly commander lived through the fight. And what thanks did we get? The regiment got disciplined, and I got court-martialed for assaulting and impersonating an officer and stealing his horse and was sent to Velant.”

  Kestel was laughing so hard she sat down on the floor, and the others echoed her laughter. Even Judith and Edward chuckled heartily.

  Verran wiped his eyes and struggled for breath. “I can’t believe you held out on us! Blimey, that’s one of the best stories I’ve ever heard.”

  Piran looked simultaneously disgruntled by the revelation and gratified by the story’s reception. “It’s not exactly the crowning achievement I want to be remembered for,” he grumbled. “Now do you see why I wasn’t keen on telling them?”

  Blaine caught his breath, still chuckling. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard, he thought. I’d forgotten how good it feels.

  With a sigh, Blaine turned his attention back to the maps on the table. “Now that we know Piran’s deep dark secret,” he said, “and I think we can safely dismiss the idea of using that particular tactic,” he said with a glance in Piran’s direction. “Perhaps we’d better plan our strategy.”

  Niklas, too, had sobered. “There’s a problem. The spy we interrogated confirmed that Reese and Pollard know it’s a race. Pollard’s been looting universities and libraries and torturing mages. Reese has him stealing old, magical objects.”

  “Damn.” Blaine let out a long breath. “I was afraid of that. It was the only reason for Pollard having an assassin in Riker’s Ferry: He had to know about the null places and that means he knows about the places of power, too.”

  “But we’re the ones with the maps,” Kestel said.

  Blaine grimaced. “For all we know, he’s found copies. Or found a mage who remembered old stories. We’ve got to assume that we’ll encounter them on the way to Valshoa. Reese might even have possession of some of the disks.”

  “That could be a problem if you actually need the disks for the ritual,” Kestel said.

  Blaine shrugged. “We’ve got no way of knowing what will work at Valshoa until we get there.”

  “We tried that approach at Mirdalur, Mick,” Verran said. “It didn’t work so well.”

  “The thing is, if the solstice is a time when the magic is easier to bind, we don’t have much choice,” Blaine said. “The solstice is just over a week away. It’s going to take several days to get to the place indicated on the map – assuming we can find it.” He paused. “And assuming we don’t have to fight Pollard every step of the way.”

  “You’ve got support from my men,” Niklas pledged. “Although we should leave some of them here to protect Glenreith, in case Pollard decides to strike again.”

  “I’d feel better if we knew where we stood with those ghost knights,” Dawe said. “But I’ve been busy in the forge. Mari’s been a big help. I’ve gotten a number of modified crossbows ready.”

  “What do you know about Voss?” Blaine asked, directing his question to Geir.

  Geir thought for a moment. “He’s Penhallow’s man, as much as Traher Voss belongs to anyone. Before the Great Fire, he was one of Lanyon’s best sources of information.”

  “Any idea why he and his mercs weren’t at the war front?” Niklas asked with an edge in his voice.

  Geir shrugged. “Nothing for certain. I do know that, in the final months, Lanyon feared a mage strike. He may have gotten word to Voss and told him to pull back.”

  “Would have been nice if he’d warned the rest of us,” Niklas said darkly.

  Geir turned his gaze on Niklas. “Penhallow did his best to warn the king. Ask Connor when he arrives – he’ll tell you firsthand. Merrill wasn’t getting accurate information from his generals, and in the end, he underestimated Edgar of Meroven until it was too late.”

  Niklas looked away. “A lot of good men died in the war,” he said quietly. “A lot of my men.”

  “We can’t change what happened during the war,” Kestel said, “but it would be nice to have all the help we can get now.” She looked to Geir. “Do you think Voss will throw in with us?”

  Geir grimaced. “No idea. Let’s wait for Penhallow to arrive. If he’s seen Voss recently, he may know his plans.”

  For the next several candlemarks, they pored over the maps, debating possible routes to reach the location Blaine had grown certain was Valshoa. Finally, Niklas rose.

  “I’m glad you’re back safe, Blaine,” he said. “I need to get back to the camp. Keep me posted about the plans to head for Valshoa.” He fixed Blaine with a stare. “This time, a contingent of my men will go with you. No more running off on your own.”

  Blaine chuckled, but after the danger they had faced on their last journey, he was more than willing to agree. “We won’t leave without you,” he promised. “And with luck, perhaps Penhallow will bring reinforcements.”

  Niklas bade them all good night, and Kestel gathered up the charts and amulets. Judith rose and went over to where Blaine stood.

  “There’s one more thing that happened while you were gone,” she said, her expression grave.

  Blaine sobered, and Kestel moved to stand next to him. “What is it?” Blaine asked. It’s got to be something to do with Carr, he thought. He’s not here, and nobody’s mentioned him all night.

  “Carr’s been struck with the madness,” Judith said.

  Blaine let out a long breath. I thought maybe he had run off in anger, gotten in another fight, torn up the camp or the manor. But madness?

  Kestel laid a hand on Blaine’s arm. “What happened?” Blaine asked. He listened quietly as Judith and Dawe took turns recounting Carr’s attack.

  “I didn’t want to hurt him,” Dawe ended his story apologetically. “I know he’s your brother, Mick. But he was swinging like he meant to bash in my head. I managed to get him down before he hurt Mari or did any real damage to me.”

  Blaine saw the bruise that was fading on the side of Dawe’s face and felt a flush of shame, although he knew in his heart he could not have prevented the attack. He met Mari’s gaze, and the mixture of sadness and challenge in her eyes made him look away. She’s got a right to be disappointed, he thought. Since I’ve come back, I seem to have brought hardship with me. They deserve better.

  “The madness isn’t anyone’s fault, Mick,” Kestel said quietly. “It strikes wherever it chooses.”

  “It would have been worse if he’d been taken by the madness somewhere else, while they were on the road,” Judith said, and her voice sounded weary. “At least he’s in his own home, where we can care for him until it runs its course.”

  That realization shook Blaine to the bone. She means, until he dies, he thought. Unless Carr is very, very lucky. And that kind of luck hasn’t been with our family lately.

  A few candlemarks later, Glenreith was quiet. Piran had announced an impromptu game of cards in the kitchen, complete with a bottle of whiskey he had liberated from the lyceum. Niklas was already back in the camp and Judith had begged off, but Dawe, Kestel, and Verran insisted that Blaine join them, and to Blaine’s surprise, Edward and Mari showed up as well.

  As it turned out, Edward was quite good at games of chance, with skill that on occasion trumped Piran’s sleight of hand. Kestel and the others, knowing Piran’s penchant for cheating, had long ago perfected compensatory strategies. Mari watched from a seat nearby, and as the game progressed, she edged closer to where Dawe sat.

  “I think you’ve met your match, Piran,” Kestel chuckled as Edward gathered his winnings
.

  “Personally, I’m impressed,” Blaine said. “I’ve seen a side of Edward I’d never glimpsed before,” he said.

  Edward colored. “In the years since your departure, it’s required a variety of methods to keep the manor supplied,” he said, gathering his dignity with the coppers.

  Mari chuckled. “What Edward means is that we’ve begged, borrowed, wagered, and stolen to make ends meet. It’s the new fashion.”

  Edward blushed deeper. “It sounds quite unsavory when you put it that way.”

  Piran clapped Edward on the shoulder. “Personally, I applaud a man who can adjust with the times. And I especially applaud any man who can get the better of me at cards.” He peered enticingly at Edward and grinned. “Best two out of three?”

  Edward smiled self-consciously. “The real secret to success at cards, Captain Rowse, is to quit when one is ahead.”

  Piran knocked back the rest of his whiskey. “You know, that’s the part I never mastered.”

  The group dispersed, but Blaine managed to fall into step with Mari. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to keep Carr from causing trouble.”

  Mari sighed. “Carr’s caused trouble for a long time, Blaine. I think he’d rather be angry than sad, and maybe he got stuck that way. The madness just pushed him a little further. He might have gone there anyway on his own.”

  “I want to look in on him,” Blaine said.

  Mari looked at him worriedly. “It can’t help.”

  “I know. But I need to see.” They paused as they reached Carr’s room, and the guard at the door nodded assent, then unlocked the door and stood to the side.

  Carr lay on his bed, head turned to one side, wrists and ankles secured with ropes to the bedposts. Other than the rise and fall of his chest, he did not move. Even from the doorway, in the moonlight that fell through the window, Blaine could see bruises and scratches on Carr’s face from the fight. Wordlessly, he and Mari left the room, and the guard secured the door and took up his place on watch.

  Neither Blaine nor Mari spoke until they had moved down the hallway. “It’s not your fault,” Mari said.

  Blaine glanced at her. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Mari managed a sad smile. “You don’t have to. You were thinking it.”

  Blaine looked away. “Yeah, maybe I was.” He changed the subject. “How’s Robbe doing?”

  Mari perked up at the mention of her son. “He’s nearly four years old, and the picture of his father,” she said, her smile growing sad again.

  “Do you miss Evaret?” Blaine asked.

  Mari looked down at the floor as they walked. At the end of the hallway, double doors opened onto a balcony. They paused in the moonlight, and Mari looked out through the glass, wiping it free of frost. “Yes, although it gets a bit easier with time. Hearing confirmation from Niklas was hard, although by now, in my heart, I had accepted that he wasn’t going to come home.”

  She paused. “I grew quite fond of him, and it was awful to hear nothing for so long.” Mari looked away. “The truth is, he was a very good friend but not the love of my life. The marriage was a matter of practicality for both of us,” she said. The cold, blue light cast her face in angles and shadows, and Blaine saw once more just how much the last years had affected her.

  “It wasn’t really love, if such a thing exists,” she said quietly. “He was willing to have me, after all that happened. I was willing to accept, since he wasn’t a rotter. He tried to do right by me and Robbe. If the war hadn’t taken him, I think things would have turned out passably well.”

  She paused. “Do you miss Carensa?”

  Blaine looked away. “I was heartsick when I went to Velant. As the years passed, everything here seemed like a dim memory. I was fond of Selane, and if the fever hadn’t taken her, I think we would have been happy. But it wasn’t love.”

  Mari was still looking out over the moonlit landscape. From here, Blaine could see the hills all the way to the river. “Do you fancy Dawe?” he asked.

  Mari blushed and looked down. “Are you going to warn me off him?”

  Blaine chuckled. “If you’re serious, I was going to encourage you. He’s a good man. Unlike the rest of us, he didn’t commit any crimes. Got framed by a jealous rival because he was too good at his craft. His wife left him – for the rival. He’d take good care of you and Robbe.”

  Mari gave a faint smile. “We’ve talked a couple of times. He’s… nice.” She was quiet for a while, then looked up. “What about you and Kestel?”

  It was Blaine’s turn to look away. “It all sort of depends on how things go with the magic, doesn’t it?” And whether or not I’m still alive.

  Mari stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’d worry less about you, maybe, if you were married to an assassin. Someone to watch your back.”

  Blaine kissed the top of her head, as he had done since she was a small child. “Should I consider that your blessing?”

  Mari chuckled. “Mine, and Judith’s, and Edward’s, too. We all think it’s about time you settled down. And before you ask, no one’s concerned about anything in her past. That would be a little silly, coming from this family, wouldn’t it?”

  Blaine saw Mari to her room and said good night. He thought about returning to his own room, but there was too much bouncing around in his mind to make it likely he would fall asleep. Instead, he took the back stairs down through the kitchen, a route he was certain would afford few interruptions.

  At this time of night, the kitchen was dark, save for the banked fire in the massive hearth. Blaine paused for a moment and breathed in the comforting smells of baked bread and wood smoke, of roasted meat and onions. It smelled like the best of his memories of home, and for a few seconds, he let that warmth enfold him.

  Reluctantly, he moved on, slipping through the kitchen into the darkened parlor. Everyone had gone to bed. Blaine lit one of the lanterns, stirred the embers into a fire, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He settled into one of the chairs by the hearth, feeling the effects of the dangerous ride back from the lyceum.

  The whiskey burned down his throat, but it did not warm him. He knew that there was no real question that he would go to look for Valshoa and try to find Vigus Quintrel. If it were just risking myself, the matter would be settled. It’s everyone else who’ll go with me, who’ll put themselves in danger. Gods above, I’ve seen enough death. I don’t want their blood on my head.

  “I thought I might find you here.” Kestel’s voice startled him, and Blaine stirred from his thoughts to set his glass aside and rise from his chair.

  “You’re up late.”

  Kestel shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Blaine managed a wan smile. “Neither could I.” Kestel was still dressed in the gown she had worn at dinner, a dark emerald dress that played up the deep red of her hair. Though frayed and worn in places, the satin in her dress still shimmered in the firelight. For several moments, neither of them said anything, and Blaine knew that the incident at the lyceum hung between them, although there had been no private moment since then for discussion.

  We can’t go on like this. It’s worse than having said nothing, Blaine thought. He drew a deep breath, discovering that it was much harder to find the courage to broach the subject than to ready himself for battle.

  “What you said… at the lyceum. Did you mean it?” His voice was quiet, and he wondered if she could hear the uncertainty he felt. Perhaps she’ll say it was the tension of the moment, that she was afraid I was going to die. Maybe I read more into it than she meant, and she’s trying to figure out how to set me right.

  Kestel walked closer to the fireplace, but she did not meet his gaze. “I meant it,” she said softly. “Did you?”

  It was strange, Blaine thought, to see Kestel look uncertain. Even in Velant, despite the worst that happened to them, she had always seemed utterly sure of herself, completely in command. “Yes,” he said, moving a step closer. “I’d been thinking about it for a long
time, but I couldn’t figure out how to say anything in case you didn’t feel the same.”

  Kestel finally met his gaze. “You were dead, Mick. For a moment or two, you were gone. I’d been afraid to tell you, for fear I’d lose your friendship, and then I lost you anyway. Almost.”

  Blaine reached out to touch her cheek. “I didn’t die. And I didn’t run away.”

  Kestel lifted a hand to clasp his. “You don’t have to go to Valshoa. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” She looked down. “I’m afraid for you, Mick. I’m afraid that the price to bring back the magic will be too high.”

  Blaine drew her into his arms, folding her against his chest, and to his pleased amazement, she did not draw back. Her arms slipped around his waist, and she leaned against him. “I’m a bad risk to fall in love with,” he murmured, laying his cheek against her head.