Ashes

by Lauralana Dunne

  “You’re not concentrating, Phoenix,” Camden’s voice chided her, breaking through her waking-dream.

  “It’s a foolish thing to concentrate on.” She remained facing the window, watching Kit playing with the new dogs that had arrived.

  Kit had grown a lot over the cold season. The dog was all leg, knotted with muscles that bulged thickly from the long bones, stretching her as tall as the older hunting dogs, rounding out her frame as a working dog - but her strange fur pattern and rounded ears had remained unchanged during the last few months of growth. She still drew strange looks and hissed whispers when she walked the halls, marking the dog as something to steer clear of. Phoenix was careful to avoid peak times when they walked through the halls, opting instead for the quiet sanctuary of the tower.

  Camden took a few steps forward. “That’s not for you to decide,” he said primly, attempting once again to draw her attention back to the task at hand.

  Phoenix straightened and turned towards him. His grey eyes were darkly serious as he frowned at her from across the room. He still held the practice rings that they had been using before taking their break. He looked more moody than usual, she thought, noting the boy’s pale complexion. Hints of shadows had spread under his eyes, a dark match to the new lines of sleeplessness that had already engraved themselves in his young face.

  “The banquet is only a few days away. We have to practice. We have to get it perfect.”

  Phoenix sighed and pushed herself back into a standing position. She had learned the hard way that everything always had to be perfect with Camden.

  King Benedict had personally requested for the pair to take part in the festivities of his birthing celebrations, and even though she felt a fierce desire to do anything that His Majesty asked of her, Phoenix had begun to resent that Camden continually forgot how his command over his Power differed from hers.

  She rolled her shoulders, wordlessly returning to her position. It was a silly juggling routine that Master Malcourt had devised, designed to mimic the acts of the court tricksters in order to entertain their audience. It started off light-hearted and comical, but slowly increased in intensity so that flaming objects were flying around the hall - courtesy of the powers of the Apprentice Callers.

  Phoenix knew it was a polite reminder to the Manor Lords of the power that the King commanded. She also knew to keep that observation to herself, and had only nodded when Master Malcourt had informed them of their involvement.

  A ball whizzed past her head. Camden had started without warning, hoping to catch her off-guard. He often did things like that: purposefully goaded her to see how far she could be pushed. He knew that her Power was linked to her anger and he liked to see the results of that. It was an annoyance, but she always did her best to ignore his attempts just to annoy him in return. His fascination with her had changed to that of competition since she had been named as Malcourt’s second Apprentice. She often wondered if he resented her because of it.

  Camden lobbed another ball at her. Deftly, she caught the weighted projectile and threw it high in the air. It bounced off the ceiling and ricocheted at an awkward angle across the room. She could feel the swell of his Power as he called the sphere back towards him, simultaneously throwing another one at her. She caught this one as well, but held it with both hands before throwing it, her insides snarling in anger and exhaustion. “Stop it,” she snapped.

  The ball burst into flame as it sped towards Camden. Her breath caught as, like always, she felt the fear creep in that this would be the first one to burn him.

  He caught it easily, showing far less apprehension than she anticipated while faced with trying to catch a flaming object, and she could feel the layer of air that protected his skin from the heat of the sphere. He released it, watching it float a moment in the air, letting the fire burn brightly before him, then he clapped his hands over the object with another surge of Power - extinguishing the flame before it touched his skin.

  “Don’t use two hands to cast the flame. Just one. Otherwise it’ll look sloppy,” he scowled at her as he held the cooling ball.

  Phoenix felt a stab of annoyance. “I don’t know how,” she reminded him, exasperated.

  “Do it anyway,” he retorted. Without warning, he threw the second ball at her with a flick of his hand.

  Instinctually she caught it, her anger flared up as her temper got the better of her. She cursed at him. The ball burst into flames in her hand, the flickering light that snaked around her fingers growing steadily.

  A twitch from her focus ring cautioned her to calm herself. Phoenix felt a shield reach out from the stones, snagging her Power and dispersing the fire into nothing. But not before the ball was charred beyond use. She glared at Camden.

  A slow smile spread along one side of his mouth. “Interesting,” was all he said.

  Phoenix bit her tongue and somehow managed to hold back her noise of disgust.

  Camden held his hand out and directed all of the equipment across the room. Cases opened on their own, and the juggling balls and hoops hopped back into place, effectively putting themselves away for the Apprentices.

  Phoenix looked down at the blackened ball she held, feeling a pang of remorse. With a sigh, she threw it in the garbage and walked to her desk.

  She gathered her reading books and placed her ledgers on top of them, helping to clean up the study before they left. As Apprentices, they were only allowed to practice their Power in designated areas in the tower. Malcourt said it was because he had placed extra safeguards in case their workings got out of control, but Phoenix had a sneaking suspicion that it was also as a courtesy to the close-minded castle folk that lived within Angor’s walls.

  The window is open to my rooms. You’re welcome to wait for me there. Malcourt’s voice was strong in her head though he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Why would it matter if the window is open?” Phoenix asked Camden, hoisting her books into the crook of her arm with a grunt. Sometimes she surprised herself at how much she had read. A season ago she never would have thought it possible.

  Camden locked the cases and gathered his own study material. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head. “What window?”

  “In Master Malcourt’s rooms.” When he looked confused, she shrugged a shoulder. “He just told us to wait for him there.” His expression darkened and she realized that their Master had only called to her. “You were busy. Sometimes I can’t Hear when I’m busy casting.” She added the last part to mollify him. In truth, she never had trouble Hearing either of them, but he seemed to accept this as reasonable and nodded.

  “We’ll go there to wait for him,” Camden said.

  Phoenix bit back a smart remark as he strode from the room. He always felt the need to take charge, which was especially irritating in situations where it wasn’t warranted. However, bringing it up now would be more energy than it was worth. She decided to ignore it and followed him from the room.

  Master Malcourt’s rooms were located in the top level of the tower. Phoenix locked the practice room behind her and began the climb up the winding staircase, patting the trunk of the stone tree as she went.

  The three Callers mainly kept to themselves. There was rarely a need to venture into Castle Angor other than to sleep - or the odd time that Tessa needed and extra set of hands in the kitchens. Phoenix tried to join her friends for meals whenever she was able to, and sometimes she could convince Camden to join now and then, but mostly her days were lessons and practice within the tower. It was lonely sometimes, she admitted privately to herself, but she also felt encouraged to see how much she had been able to learn during the cold season.

  Phoenix slowed to a stop and motioned for Camden to do the same. She could hear a melody, beautiful and high-pitched, coming from Master Malcourt’s room down the hall. It reminded her vaguely of singing birds as they flitted in between the branches of the trees in Avondale.

  Camden stared at her in surprise as neither of them had ever
heard music come from their Master’s chambers.

  Abruptly there was a loud crash, and the music halted. Phoenix gave Camden a confused look. Master Malcourt would have had to pass the practice room to get to his rooms before them. Phoenix narrowed her eyes distrustfully at the closed door. She knew he kept his rooms sealed. Only he - and those wearing focus rings - were able to open the door. How did someone get inside?

  Camden put his finger to his lips and set his books down quietly. Phoenix did the same and moved a step closer to Camden. She waited, watching, while Camden cocked his head, as if he could somehow hear more from the occupant of the room. Finally, he shook his head and inclined his head towards the door.

  “Master?” Phoenix knocked on the door. Silence was the only thing that greeted her. Camden motioned for her to stand back, moving in front of her to open the door. His body posture had slipped into a defensive position, and Phoenix felt relief at the sight, knowing that he was a trained fighter.

  The room remained silent. Camden entered slowly with Phoenix close on his heels. No lights in the room were lit. The balcony doors were wide open, the gusting wind continually blowing the curtains around their frame. A side table next to the window was tipped over on to the floor, and rolling around from the force of the wind. Phoenix inspected the room but found nothing else that seemed to be out of place.

  Cautiously, Camden approached the balcony and drew the doors closed. He bent down and picked up the fallen iron table, inspecting it for any damage from when it tipped over. A movement in the shadows caught Phoenix’s attention out of the corner of her eye.

  “Camden!” she screamed.

  The figure darted towards the door. Camden pivoted and threw open his hand. A gust of wind whipped past Phoenix and threw the intruder towards the corner of the room. He connected against the stone wall with an audible grunt.

  Phoenix paused. She couldn’t make out his form, but his shape seemed wrong, as if his cloak had somehow tangled on the smooth wall behind him. She and Camden stood their ground, positioning themselves between him and the door, neither one wanting to move towards the intruder without knowing what kind of weapons he possessed.

  Phoenix waved her hand, feeling for the embers in the hearth across the room. Immediately they came back to life, flames flaring against the stone and illuminating the room. The candles around the room followed suit and lit themselves one by one until everything was bathed in light.

  Phoenix gasped, her eyes going wide. Camden’s jaw clenched as he glared at the intruder, his hand diving for his belt knife.

  The face that glared back bared his fangs and let loose a terrible growl: his expression matching so many of the stone creatures that Phoenix constantly saw hanging from the parapets of Castle Angor.

  The creature stood effortlessly before them, his body locked in unnatural stillness as he took in their positions. His expression was as serene as any of the statues that adorned the walls of Castle Angor. He watched them through narrowed eyes as though they were the ones intruding. His slate-grey skin was a few shades lighter than the stone wall behind him, his hide-bound hair only a few shades lighter again, and Phoenix could see how easily he could blend into the background should the shadows favour his position.

  His clothing was drab, made from thick layers of sewn animal hides, but the metal cuffs that he wore around his forearms were well-crafted and etched with an intricate design. Two curved blades were sheathed across his chest, their short edges curled inwards towards the handles that intersected across his abdomen. Phoenix felt a thrill of fear when she saw them, thankful that they had given the gargoyle space in the small room.

  Gargoyle.

  What Phoenix had mistaken for a cloak was his half-extended wings that brushed the wall behind him. They were half-retracted as if to shield him from an attack. Double hooked claws were nestled at the apex of each wing.

  The gargoyle snarled at the two and pressed his wings to his back, easily flipping into a crouch. His dark eyes settled on Phoenix. The irises were a stark contrast against the rest of his coloring, the diamond slits of his pupils growing larger as he assessed her, and she was shocked by the depth of them. His gaze was not wild like she had expected, but was intelligent and calculating as he measured her up like a cat watching a mouse. He tilted his head, the angle predatory, and he waited.

  Something primal inside Phoenix roared at her to run. To back out of the room. To scream. She probed the instinct and was surprised to discover that it wasn’t fear, but necessity that stiffened her muscles in anticipation. Master Malcourt would be arriving soon. She had to warn him.

  Instead of running, she took a step forward.

  His nostrils flared in surprise, a quick movement that had neutralized so quickly that Phoenix wondered if she’d imagined it. She would have missed it if she’d blinked.

  The gargoyle smirked. He sniffed delicately, his lips parting to reveal elongated canines. “You smell delightful,” he purred.

  Phoenix blinked in surprise. His voice was like quicksand for her senses. It clung to them, dragging her down so that she almost drowned from the shock of it, her attention fracturing as she struggled to make sense of the sound. The voice that came from such a foreign-looking creature was unbelievably… human.

  She could see it for what it was - a ploy to unsettle her.

  Without breaking eye contact, he tried to slink around them on all fours, his focus again on the door behind them. Camden darted forward, shooting another blast of air at the gargoyle to force him back. He took up position between Phoenix and the gargoyle, drawing his knife from his belt.

  The gargoyle remained motionless. He remained crouched, locked in preternatural stillness in the silent room. Phoenix was almost positive that the wind had not touched him this instance. His hair ruffled as if caught in the breeze, but his body was unaffected by the force.

  He grinned, an expression that looked surprisingly human on his face even with visible fangs, and rose fluidly to stand before them.

  He was taller than the two of them, even without the wings, and his build was equal to that of Camden’s. Physically he had the advantage.

  With a flap, he folded his wings against his back, hooked the top joints around his arms, and hung them between the armoured spikes on his shoulders. The arrangement made it look like he was wearing a cloak, and Phoenix found the visual humorous for some reason.

  The gargoyle placed claw-like hands on his hips and regarded the two. “Well, now,” he purred. His voice was deep and surprisingly young-sounding. Amusement danced across his features.

  The three stared each other down, unmoving, each assessing the other. The gargoyle crossed his arms, waiting. Camden stiffened an instant later. Phoenix whipped her head towards him in surprise, then it hit her.

  A subtle cold crept across the room. It spread from her extremities, kissing her fingertips before caressing up along her arms to her torso. It was not intense - more so annoying - but she could see that Camden was rooted in place, an intense expression of fear upon his face. It took her a moment to realize that the cold was coming from the creature.

  The gargoyle strode forward, his eyes focused on the door once more.

  Bile rose in her throat. Phoenix had no concept of how to fight him, but she knew that she couldn’t let him escape to attack Master Malcourt, or anyone else in Angor, for that matter. She stayed still until he walked past, then, forcefully, she launched herself at him and knocked him to the ground.

  He gave a muffled grunt of surprise. Phoenix did her best to keep him pinned to the floor, but he was much stronger than her and she found herself struggling. He snarled at her like an animal, snapping his teeth a hand-span away from her face.

  Gathering her strength, she thrust her fist at his face with her full force. He caught it easily, engulfing her hand in his large talons as he held her attack at bay. She attempted to free it with her other hand but he caught that one as well. His tail snaked around her leg and pulled her to one side, ea
sily rolling her over as their hands remained locked around each other’s wrists. Phoenix grunted and brought her knees up, attempting to use their strength against him as she tried to twist her arms out of his grip.

  He opened his wings to steady himself. A wingtip clipped the side of her face as he maneuvered himself back into a position of power.

  The sudden pain of the blow made Phoenix angry. Her Power leapt into her hands, dancing against her fingers that she had locked around his forearms. He yelped with surprise. Wrenching his arms he broke himself free from her grip, throwing her away from him. Phoenix could see two red handprints burned into his arms.

  He jumped back into a crouch, tail lashing while he perched on all fours. Phoenix rolled over and jumped into a standing position, balancing on the balls of her feet while she glared at him. Adrenaline pounded through her body. She balled her hands into fists, feeling the muted warmth of the growing flames tickling her palms. She hesitated only a moment, waiting for the heat to grow between her fingers, then when she was ready, she launched herself at him with a furious cry.

  One foot left the ground, the other propelling her body forward, but she never reached her mark. Two arms wrapped around her waist and held her fast, pulling her back in the opposite direction. Fiercely, she twisted against the person holding her and attempted to break free.

  “That’s enough of that,” Malcourt’s voice told her firmly.

  Phoenix stilled and turned to see her Master holding her in place. Releasing her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, both to calm her and to ensure that she didn’t try to attack the gargoyle again. The gargoyle, for his part, rose fluidly and snapped his wings against his back. His face was infuriatingly calm. His expression was unruffled and showed no sign that a fight had just taken place. He looked at Malcourt expectantly, but Phoenix could see that his posture was still on the defensive.