Ashes

by Lauralana Dunne

  His voice ended on a strange note, and Phoenix realized that, while he had conveyed the meaning of his message properly, he had not expressed it quite in the way that he had wanted. Phoenix could picture Brianna’s scowl easily, though she was hardly the only one to ever treat her so thoughtlessly. She thought back to Avondale, and the way that the people there had crossed themselves whenever the fire had flared up around her; the way they whispered about her when she was still within ear shot; Millie’s unnecessary cruelty. Phoenix had to admit that most had been unkind to her. She felt a pang in her chest when she realized that they had been right all along. Perhaps she had been causing terrible things to happen without even realizing it!

  The room was hot. Pip shrieked with indignation and launched herself to the back of a large chair. She dug her claws into the thick material and flapped her large wings repeatedly, causing Phoenix’s hair and their clothing to move erratically in the resulting drafts.

  The soothing pulse of the focus stones in Phoenix’s hand halted. Instead of a hum, they became silent and shocked her so abruptly that she yelped and dropped them on to the thick fur beneath her.

  “Are you all right, Phoenix?” Malcourt asked, reaching for her hand. He inspected her surrendered palm, but seeing nothing of note, his gaze slid bemusedly to the candles along the walls and the hearth behind him.

  Phoenix’s eyes followed his. “Oh!” she said softly in the darkening room.

  The candles hanging from the walls had melted away to nothing. The once tall cylinders of tallow had melted into the pools of wax, extinguished in most cases where the wick had been doused in the hot liquid. Even the hearth fire, with its massive supply of logs, had expanded and burned itself out so that all that remained was a charred bed of glowing embers.

  “Pip!” Phoenix said suddenly, turning to look at the angry owl who was glaring at the two balefully.

  “Is fine,” Malcourt said reassuringly. “She might have a singed tail feather or two, but she’ll be all right. She got a bit of a fright more than anything... though she is used to such random happenings by now. She’s being a bit dramatic, if you ask me.”

  Pip squawked what Phoenix thought sounded like an oath at Malcourt and turned her back on the pair. Without a sound, she spread her wings and flew to the opposite end of the room, putting a massive case of books between her and the humans who were sitting together on the floor.

  Malcourt chuckled softly to himself. “She’ll get over it... eventually.” When Phoenix looked worried he added, “I’ve certainly had worse accidents with her. However! The best thing about accidents - I find - is that they provide an excellent learning opportunity.”

  Malcourt unwound a strip of hide from the scroll and looked around the room searchingly. He motioned to the wood pile, and two small sticks rolled down from the pile and across the floor towards them. Phoenix watched, amazed, as they positioned themselves to keep the scroll from curling back in on itself.

  Malcourt chuckled at the expression on her face. “Learning that little trick took much longer than I care to admit, but it’s absolutely fantastic at parties.”

  “Could I learn to do somethin’ like tha’?” Phoenix felt her initial apprehension turn to excitement.

  “That and so much more, my dear,” Malcourt smiled.

  “Could I learn t’ do a bindin’ spell?” she plucked the name from her memory, thinking of Oliver, the man they had brought to the castle in the back of the wagon.

  Malcourt looked surprised. “Yes, I believe you could. It takes a lot of work, Phoenix, but I think that you are more than capable of it.”

  She straightened her spine. It had been a long time since anyone had displayed such a level of confidence in her, and Phoenix vowed that she would not disappoint him.

  “I’ll do m’ best,” she told him. “Promise.”

  “That’s all I ask. Now then,” he tapped the scroll on the floor between them, “I want you to tell me what you see.”

  Phoenix assessed the image. The parchment was faded and creased with age, but the picture on it was vibrantly colored as if freshly painted. It was a mismatch of lines and colors - some drawn haphazardly, some with expert precision - which formed no discernible meaning that Phoenix could find.

  She studied it silently, hoping to understand what it was that Malcourt wished her to see. It reminded her vaguely of the windows in the library - lines of colored glass without any obvious pattern - but eventually she had to admit defeat.

  “I dunno wha’ I’m supposed t’ be lookin’ for,” she confessed, frustrated at her inability to complete the task.

  “Ah,” Malcourt replied, as if she had said something clever. “Have you ever seen one of these before, Phoenix?” When she shook her head he smiled widely. “Such youthful innocence: how lovely. No, no need to blush. It’s perfect, Phoenix. You have so much potential, and no ill-conceived notions or habits for me to correct. It’s truly refreshing.

  “This parchment is a source; something similar to the runes you saw me drawing around our campfire. A source is an instrument that channels Power into a specific purpose outlined by the image.”

  Phoenix widened her eyes in disbelief. “This picture can do tha’?”

  Malcourt chuckled. “If you can see it. Not every source works for every Caller, and not every Caller interprets every source the same way. Sometimes it can take years of study to activate one. Especially if it’s one that lies outside of the Caller’s Talent.

  “This one, however, is a basic one. It’s used only for training. Sources like this are used in the Academy to determine whether a person has Power or not. Symbols are hidden in the image, and it’s the job of the trainee to block out the extraneous information. Children with blood - and sometimes those without - are tested with beginner sources to see if they can activate it.

  “This source is a little different. I already know you have Power, and I can certainly suspect your Talent; I chose this particular parchment because it should bring that Talent out.” He tapped the sheet. “I want you to feel for your favourite spot and start from there,” he told her.

  Phoenix frowned at the image. The colors and lines were such a jumble that no one spot stood out in particular. There were bold slashes of crimson that tapered into orange to become thin strips of yellow; thick golden lines that were scripted so precisely that they looked almost like the symbols in her books; blue and purple waves that could pass for either oceans or clouds; and bright orange markings that somehow threaded through the entire piece to integrate with every color present.

  “Here,” she said, placing her finger across from a squiggle that might have passed for some sort of bird. “I dunno why, but this blue spot stands out.”

  Malcourt inspected the spot and gave a satisfied nod. “That’s as good a place to start as any. Now, trace a path, using your eyes, from that spot so that you’ve explored the entire source.”

  Phoenix concentrated on the blue patch. Choosing her path, she slowly traced through the lines and colors painted on the scroll. Once finished, Phoenix looked up at Malcourt expectantly. “Was somethin’ supposed t’ happen?” she asked, seeing the expression on his face.

  “Eventually, yes, something will happen - but rarely does it happen the first time. Sometimes it can take a week or more,” Malcourt said.

  “A week?” Phoenix couldn’t imagine having to spend so long looking at the same image over and over again.

  “Sometimes,” Malcourt acknowledged, “but not always. Shall we try again?”

  When Phoenix nodded he smiled and pointed to the small patch of blue. “Start in the same spot, but instead of choosing where to look, let the source choose for you. Let it pull you in the direction it wants you to go.”

  Phoenix didn’t understand what he meant, but she concentrated on the blue patch and started the process again.

  The only sound in the study was their breathing. The weak light cast from the the hearth illuminated the details on the parchment, but she knew
that that wouldn’t last long. The sky outside of the tower was already darkening.

  Phoenix pushed the distraction from her mind. She ignored the chill in the air around her; ignored the sound of Malcourt’s breathing, and that he was waiting solely on her. She clenched the focus stones in her fist, feeling a limited sense of peace as she glowered at the blue patch in front of her. She was tempted to trace the same path as before, let her eyes wander over the parchment to explore the picture. Instead, she waited.

  Everything stood still. Phoenix concentrated carefully on the patch of color and ignored everything else. Nothing else existed but the source.

  She couldn’t say how long she had been sitting there - how long Malcourt had watched her silently - when a soft tingling spread up her arms and across the hair along the back of her neck. Unbidden, her eyes followed a light curve of ink and slowly slid across the scroll until they rested on a fuzzy patch of yellow.

  She gasped and jerked back, causing her attention to shift away from the source. Malcourt looked at her expectantly with raised eyebrows, but remained silent. Phoenix set her jaw and tried again.

  Starting again at the splash of blue she willed herself to relax. Almost instantly, she felt the same tingle and her eyes slid to the same yellow patch.

  She was careful to keep her breathing deep and even. Phoenix waited again for the strange tingling feeling to guide her in the right direction.

  Unbidden, her gaze skimmed downwards, then jerked abruptly to the left and paused on a red that reminded Phoenix of bush berries. An instant later, her eyes drifted across the page again.

  Every time her eyes moved, Phoenix could feel the tingling energy spread a little further along her body. Any time she felt her attention waver, or her frustration rise, she carefully pushed the feeling aside and renewed a neutral concentration on the source before her.

  Finally, once she felt her eyes had traced the whole parchment, with the hair along her arms and neck standing on end, she felt the built-up tension leave her body. Phoenix slumped where she sat, exhausted.

  The source on the table glowed brightly, each color activating and disappearing before her eyes. The calm surface of the parchment rippled like a pond, and a bright orange droplet rose from the waves to hang in the air like a small sun. Slowly it grew until it became fist-sized, then the outer layers cracked and peeled away, disappearing like petals on a breeze.

  Phoenix held her breath. Fire erupted from the center and crawled in different directions along the edge of the sphere. Like a torch being lit, the flames danced along the globe until they crashed together and merged into a single flickering light.

  The flaming ball hung in the air between them, illuminating the room. Malcourt seemed impressed, Phoenix thought, his blue eyes assessing both her and the little fireball thoughtfully.

  Beneath it, the source had returned to a normal piece of parchment. The ripples had disappeared, and the original colors had returned more vibrant than before.

  Malcourt extended a finger and tapped the globe. He jerked his hand back and inspected his finger for burns.

  “Can you touch it?”

  Curiously, Phoenix lifted her hand. Mindful of the scars on her fingers, she reached towards the globe and was surprised when she felt no heat. The sphere moved slightly, just staying out of reach. She used both hands to move the fireball around without touching it. “It keeps movin’, but it’s not hot!”

  He nodded. “Not to you, at least. Its energy is yours, so it can’t hurt you. If the flames were to spread however...” Malcourt glanced down and hurriedly removed the source. “Can you extinguish it?”

  Phoenix frowned. She looked around for a glass of water but saw nothing that could help. She tried to catch the flaming ball, but every time she grabbed for it it moved beyond her touch. Phoenix reached behind it and herded the sphere back towards her. When it was close enough, she blew on it as if extinguishing a candle. Instead of disappearing, the fire expanded and the newly-enlarged globe flew backwards into the hearth, rolling along the underside of the mantle until it fell into the extra pile of wood.

  Phoenix jumped up with a yelp as a thin trail of smoke uncoiled from the stack of firewood.

  Malcourt waved his hand. Phoenix felt a tingling sensation, and the smoke stopped abruptly. Malcourt motioned for her to sit and snapped his fingers. The fireball immediately rose into the air and floated back to where they sat.

  “Call it to you,” he instructed.

  “How?” She eyed it warily as it floated before her.

  “Hold out your hand. Envision it resting in your palm.”

  Phoenix did as Malcourt said. She pictured the ball of flame floating closer to sit in her offered hand. The globe moved closer, then stopped with a twitch. Phoenix glared at it and pointedly looked at her hand, willing it to move. She waited, but it did nothing.

  “I can’t make it move anymore,” Phoenix said, feeling exasperated.

  “Tell it to,” Malcourt replied. “You will have to use words until you can learn to control it with just your thoughts.”

  Phoenix repeated the process, her glare fixed on the globe. “Come.”

  “Command it.”

  “Come!” Phoenix ordered. She felt a surge; another tingling sensation. The fireball whizzed towards her without hesitation. Her triumph faded once she realized that it wasn’t slowing down in speed. Phoenix ducked and held her hands in front of her face. “Stop!” she cried in panic.

  There was a pause. Phoenix lowered her hands to see that the fireball had stopped a finger’s length from the tip of her nose. She stared in wonder at the tiny sun burning before her, the flames mesmerizing her the longer she watched. It reminded of her sleep-terror, and the burning inferno that had surrounded her. Phoenix rubbed her scars with her thumb and drew back with a shudder.

  “Very good, Phoenix. That’s enough for one day,” Malcourt said soothingly. Phoenix looked up to see his bright blue eyes watching her closely. He extended his hand. “You’re not in any danger while in my tower, Phoenix. I will protect you. There is no need to worry.” Unbidden, her eyes moved to the woodpile. Following her gaze he chuckled. “I have many protection wards in place should you lose control of your Power.”

  Phoenix pushed her apprehension aside and nodded. Seeing that Malcourt had kept his palm extended, she placed her hand in his.

  His touch was gentle. He cupped her hand and turned it so that her palm was facing upward.

  “Call to it again,” he murmured, lifting his other hand to outline the air above her palm. “Stop it here.”

  Phoenix picked a spot in the air and calmed her breathing. She found it easier with Malcourt holding her hand steady, as if she could draw from his control. She pressed her fingers together self-consciously so that he would not touch her scars.

  She gazed unblinkingly at the fireball. “Come.”

  Without hesitation, at a much more reasonable speed, it floated forwards and stopped in the spot she had chosen. It flickered above her hand, lighting up the creases in her palm without heating her skin.

  “Very good,” Malcourt praised her. “Do you have your focus stones?”

  Phoenix picked them up with her free hand and nodded.

  “Drop them into your other hand.”

  She lifted her hand so that it lined up with her palm above the fireball. At Malcourt’s nod, she opened her fingers and let go of the focus stones. The multifaceted gems caught in the light, looking like colored stars as they plummeted through the fireball to land in Phoenix’s waiting palm.

  Sparks shot from the flames and arched like lightning bolts into the focus stones. Phoenix’s instinct was to snatch her hand back, but Malcourt held it steady against the onslaught. Phoenix was shocked to discover that aside from a light tingling sensation, nothing touched her skin. She watched as the fireball shrank into thin air and disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke. The focus stones hummed softly, then became quiet in her hand.

  Phoenix let out her br
eath, unaware that she had been holding it. “Did I do good?” she asked shyly.

  Malcourt laughed softly and closed her hand around the focus stones, his blue eyes bright as he looked down at her. “Amazing, my dear. You did amazing! You truly have no idea. I can’t even explain it. You wouldn’t believe me if I tried!”

  He jumped up with a sudden energy that surprised her. “We have much to do! You are much stronger than I’d even hoped. I have to devise tests! And lesson plans! Your stones need to be modified. The wards need to be updated. And I must create a... completely... fireproof room for you to practice in.” He listed off the tasks with a boyish exuberance. “But first,” he announced, whirling back towards her grandly, “I will escort you to the dining hall. Calling is hungry work, after all.”

  As if on cue, Phoenix’s stomach growled so ferociously that she laid a hand on it to try and silence it. She blushed, and the log in the hearth was consumed so suddenly that the flames barely lasted long enough to give off any light.

  Malcourt tipped his head back and laughed. “You, Apprentice Phoenix, are the most curious thing.”

  And because of his delight in her abilities, the way his face lit up with excitement, Phoenix felt her apprehension dissipate. She had wanted to leave her old life behind, wanted to figure out who she really was, and if the best way to do it was to embrace what frightened her about herself, then she was going to give it her all. She would face the consequences head on. For the first time that she could remember she made a promise to herself, that with Malcourt’s help, she would find out exactly who she was.

  PART II

  CHAPTER 14

  Phoenix slumped against the cool stone of the windowsill. She rested her head in her hand as she stared out over the courtyard, her attention snagged by the mud-splattered caravans that sought entry at the gates. The few beginning shoots of grass that had appeared after the snows melted had long since been churned back into the earth by the giant wooden wheels of the laden wagons that had arrived a week ago. The commotion of all of the extra bodies in the castle - the bleating animals and squabbling vendors - had hung heavy in the practice room despite the locked panes of glass. She rubbed her temple in an attempt to dissipate her building headache.