Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2)

by Mallory McCartney

  It was unchanged.

  A deep tugging pulled at his gut, and a shiver ran through him. Leave. He was suspended, the water cradling his weight. His heart hammered, and dread coursed through him, screaming at him. He groaned as he relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed. Didn’t he deserve to rest? Didn’t he deserve a second to catch up, a second just to exist, not as a soldier but as a man? He didn’t even know what it meant to be Brokk Foster anymore.

  Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to the water cradling him, and that’s when he heard the voices. They were cold and drawn out, like nails scraping over rock, sparks flying from every syllable.

  “Brokk Foster. Won’t you join us?” Eyes flashing open, his heart lodged in his throat. “Brokk.” The scene flickered, the edges blurring. Lightning streaked across the sky, the grey concrete walls dissolving. “Foster.”

  A drop of rain splattered across his face as he looked down only to see the water turning inky black around him. A scream ripped from his throat, and the room fell away as he was slammed back into his reality. Thunder rolled across the sky, as he lay on his back, collapsed in the mud. Rain poured down from the sky, cold and relentless. Four sets of eyes glowed around him in the greyness, their yellow eyes predatory. Thin limbs and elongated torsos made them look like the towering trees around him. They had ripped at his clothing, their inky talons clicking as they saw his widened gaze take them in.

  “Brokk Foster, come and join us. The water is nice and welcoming.” The whispers froze him as he tried to find the source.

  He couldn’t breathe as he regained some sense of himself. The creatures were grappling at his legs and arms as they tried to tow him to the roaring river behind them. Rapids crashed against the rocks, his perception of a calm stream nowhere to be found.

  “Do you think the poison has settled in enough?”

  Snapping to attention, Brokk caught the snippet the closest creature had muttered under its breath. It had been a trap. Internally groaning, he calmed his pounding heart and willed his limbs in compliance. The creature’s hands latched on to his ankles and wrists, dragging him through the mud. Lightning flashed, streaking across the sky, and they started singing softly in their eerie voices, as they worked, dragging him toward what they thought was his impending doom.

  “Hidden in the reeds, and streaked in the mud, we wait. Until the day comes. Raiders strike, with their might, and the Reaper will come. And so, we wait, until the day comes, we will turn you into one of us.”

  His blood turned cold as he listened to their sick, overlapping melodies. The wind picked up, wailing through the forest like a lost beast. They were about twenty steps away from the river, heading down a sloping hill. Their backs arched against the storm, their leathery skin repellent to the elements. Everything about their features suggested a hint of human qualities, only to be warped and wiped away with a tilt of their head or flash of sharpened teeth.

  Brokk had heard myths about ghouls and goblins of the night. His old history teacher at the Academy used to start their lessons with folklore to scare them, of how their world used to be seen. Lurking and waiting until their prey would come along and they would sacrifice them to be turned into fey. It would seem more myths were being turned into reality than he would like to admit.

  The goblins chuckled, gripping his flesh tighter as if they couldn’t wait to tear into it. Clenching his jaw, the dull ache spread throughout his entire head from the pressure.

  “Don’t you want to return to the dream? This world is harsh and unkind. We will help you, Brokk Foster. We will set you free.”

  Goosebumps prickled his fevered skin as he clenched his eyes shut. No one could set him free.

  They leveled out on even ground once more, and he didn’t hesitate. Twisting his body violently, Brokk shifted all his weight to the right, making the goblins hiss and stumble. In a crack of bones, he shifted back, his golden fur plastered down from the rain. The goblins bared their teeth at him, balking at his new form.

  “You cannot fight. The poison will take you from your wounds. The raiders always ensure it. Submit to us.”

  Brokk’s hackles rose, saliva dripping from his giant maws. Thunder cracked through the world like a whip, and he launched himself. They collided with a shriek of claws ripping, teeth snarling. Goblin and wolf blended into one as they rolled in the mud. Brokk felt them digging their talons into his back, digging their sharpened edges into his already existing wounds. He howled, charging and throwing himself into the nearest tree, wedging the creatures between his weight. He had a moment of reprieve as two shrieked with a sickening crunch. Lightning streaked in jagged, violent lines above as Brokk propelled himself forward, rolling his body in a somersault. The two goblins sank their claws further into his back, and he desperately twisted, trying to throw their balance off. His fear made the world move in slow motion, filled with the shrill shrieking of the wind, the rain, the goblins triumphant call for his blood.

  I’m going to die. The thought cut through everything else, and he threw together a desperate plan. He didn’t stop to think about it, to weigh his odds. Changing his course, he galloped toward the river, his ears pinned back. The goblins’ cries were the last thing he processed before his haunches pushed off from the muddy ground.

  And he was flying before crashing down into the turmoil of the river: His body was instantly pushed down, scraping against the rocky bottom before being flung forward, carried by the current. The goblins bucked, trying to keep their grip, but the water was too strong. Within seconds, they were mercifully separated. Cutting his paws through the water, he fought with its force, trying to break the surface. He saw the echo of lightning from below the water before he was twisted sideways and sucked away with the bend of the river. His body slammed against boulders, dots dancing in his vision as his lungs burned. He needed air. Now.

  His weak limbs futilely fought, his claws searching for anything to cling to, but the rush of water, wild from the storm, sucked him further beneath its depths. His ribs cracked and pain sung, igniting every nerve in his body before the silky darkness overtook him entirely, drowning him in its icy depths.

  Chapter Nine

  Memphis

  The first thing Memphis realized was that he wasn’t alone. The cold, damp air sank into his bones, chilling him to his core. He groaned as his heavy eyelids flickered, taking in his surroundings. Internally cringing, he deduced he was in another cell. Everything was fuzzy, from the grey bars that locked him in to Alby’s flaming hair in the cell beside him. A small, barred window across the room filtered in receding daylight.

  His body felt drained, like he had been swimming against the current and desperately trying to catch his breath. How had he gotten here? What was the last thing he remembered? His mind was foggy; he knew Azarius had brought them to see Morgan, the leader of Pentharrow. There had been a small room, a locked door, and Morgan’s greedy eyes as she had taken them in like a prize. Then darkness.

  “Memphis?” Alby wheezed through the bars as he slowly tilted his head toward him in response. “What’s happening? I feel...weird...” Alby’s words pulled at his consciousness, and he wanted to respond, but he was spiraling inward. There was no resurfacing from what he was feeling.

  Emory—the memories of her billowed around him; she was cruel and above all calculating. After all these years, she was the only one who had a chance of stopping Adair, and he was the only one she wanted to go to, to join. He had loved her. He had always loved her. Even when he shouldn’t have. To hold on to a ghost of a girl, to warp her memories to ensure he would always be in her favor. To still have this not be enough. He was a fool. He was even more of a fool for just realizing this now.

  Nyx had given him years of unconditional love and support, and he loved her brokenly and dishonestly. He didn’t even know if she was alive. He didn’t even know if he would survive this. He already hated himself enough on her behalf. If he had only let Emory go, would Nyx not have betrayed them?

  T
houghts and distant voices sagged heavily in his mind, his pasty mouth cracking from the dryness. He felt so heavy, and it was just so easy to keep falling until he was sure there was nothing left of him to catch. Nyx betrayed you and Black Dawn. My family is gone.

  The jingle of keys and clicking of locks made him stir. If he could only focus more. Blurred dark brunette hair came into view, and he was distantly aware she was standing outside his cell, glowering at him, tapping her foot in a steady rhythm: Morgan. From her calculated looks and savageness, every fiber screamed at him to run and get far, far away. For the life of him, Memphis could barely blink.

  “Well, hasn’t you two showing up been a very interesting turn of events?” More foot tapping ensued as Memphis bit the inside of his cheek. Her voice was smooth, but an icy edge to it made him bite back a scream. “I do apologize about the accommodations, but I had to diffuse this situation very fast. Your brother—” she jabbed a finger at Alby “—has exceeded himself again. He is resilient to have survived such a suicide mission. For that matter, since you both won’t be alive in a couple of hours, I will be honest with you. Your brother, Alby, has survived every torture and deadly mission I have thrown at him. But I know exactly where his weakness lies now.”

  Her smirk spilt wider across her face, as they both groggily tried to absorb what she was saying.

  “When Azarius brought you to me, pleading a trial for you both, it was too good to pass up. You see, I have been around a long time, seen a lot of things, as we all have. I have knowledge that you wouldn’t even begin to comprehend. This world is about to be ripped open by its seams, and I will not tolerate an annoyingly gifted rebel group getting in my way.” She was murmuring to herself now rather than talking to them.

  Morgan shook her head, coming back to the present. Baring her teeth, she drawled, “The evergollian won’t take much longer to stop your hearts. It is very conveniently timed to not arouse any suspicion. I do like this poison. Very rare. It slowly shuts down all your major organs, one by one. Leaving the best for last.” She retreated into the shadows, and he heard a door click shut in the distance.

  A heavy silence pressed down on him, the roar of his own blood sluggishly pumping his final moments through his veins. The world was spinning violently.

  Evergollian.

  Poison.

  He felt his body move toward the bars, jerkily, so desperately trying to reach out. If he could just brush up against Nyx’s consciousness, they might have a chance. He had to reach someone. Darkness threatened to overtake him, and Memphis willed his mouth to form words, to call for help. He could barely move his lips before he passed out.

  Chapter Ten

  Brokk

  Brokk felt the gentle swaying, as a harsh coldness settled into the marrow of his bones. He knew he should move, open his eyes, but it was here, in the clutches between life and death, that he heard them.

  “Brokk, move.” Jaxson’s voice was quiet, a gentle brush against his heart. Since his friend had fallen with the Academy, Brokk, in his delusion, wanted to let go, to join them and allow the river to take him fully.

  “Save her. Save them. Save yourself.” The voices of his friends coursed through him, leading him back. “It’s not your time, Brokk. Save her and forgive yourself. So that you can understand. Will understand.”

  His breath came in a gasp, his eyes flying open. The murkiness of the world greeted him. The water was calm around him, the river now moving lazily, carrying him with it. Any rage he had previously felt vanished within the waters.

  He willed himself to move, shifting his weight and slowly cutting through the water, toward the grassy edge. The water splashed on his face, making him blink and sputter as he willed his body to listen to his demands and not drag him beneath the river once more, to be at its mercy.

  Every movement felt like a knife shredding his skin, slowly. He was caked in dried blood that was now painting his tan skin with slashes of ruby red. He knew, even for being a shapeshifter, he had undergone intensive injury. That he was lucky. He knew he should feel grateful, having walked away from the goblins that yearned for his flesh—that had wanted him to become a changeling. Goblins that were supposed to be of myth, not living, breathing nightmares.

  His fingers gripped the edge of the riverbank as he hauled himself onto the grass.

  All he could comprehend was that he was drained. The damp and comforting scent of the grass washed over him, and he drank in the air, lying back down, his sopping body shaking. Memphis. Alby. The names clambered back to him, nudging him, willing him to get up. To carry on. Groaning, it took every bit of his energy to sit up and take in his surroundings.

  The forest was still dense, the storm having passed, leaving everything glistening with fresh dew drops. He was alone, and his mind felt like it was battering against an iron wall, suffocating him and making every reaction drawn out and slow.

  Poison, you were poisoned. The thought reverberated through him with such force he paused, his hands searching his body for any wound still open. The last remains of his clothes were tatters. And where the arrows had been, the skin was taut and itchy but healed.

  Brokk looked to the rolling skies that he could glimpse through the treetops. Standing slowly, his senses kicked into overdrive, his mind smoothly instructing him with a soldier’s command. Move. Breathe. Your friends are dead. The Rebellion broken. But you are still here. Move. Memphis needs you. Alby needs you.

  Gritting his teeth, he shifted, his wolf form sagging with the effort. Shakily, he padded on, his sodden fur slicked to his body. Scents overwhelmed him once more, his body slowly sorting through them, his thoughts sluggishly connecting the story together once more. The river had cut a lot of scents, except one. That same male scent that had led Emory to Adair covered this part of the forest. A deep growl ripped through his chest, and he turned, following his nose.

  And came face-to-face with a cumasach.

  He froze, his ears pinning flush to his head. Blinking hard, he thought the poison was playing tricks on his mind. The fey before him was stunning, her delicate features taking him in, her pale grey eyes full of intelligence. She was petite, no taller than his shoulder, her silver hair plaited back. She wore intricate armor, the metal shimmering with an entrancing glow.

  The cumasach was a myth of old, one that he had grown up with, that the world had grown up with. The gifted; she was practically a demi-god to him. It was said that they roamed Kiero, their magic making the forests wild and the seas untamed, that it was their magic that made up the fierceness of a warrior’s heart, and centuries ago, when the world no longer needed their protection, their magic made abilities.

  It had been rumored that Emory’s dad, Roque Fae, had been naithe, blessed by their magic, leading the world with a true heart. Brokk had never believed that to be true.

  With a hammering pulse, he bowed his giant head, his muzzle grazing the damp ground. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t remember how to breathe. Her laughter was like the chiming of bells, sweetly tolling their melodies.

  “Brokk Foster, it is I that should be bowing to you.”

  He was completely and utterly frozen. Strong and gentle hands brushed under his maw, and she lifted his head, so that they were face-to-face.

  “How do you still prevail, when I can see that darkness in your heart? You are shattered, and yet you still fight against the dark forces moving against you.”

  Shifting back to his human form, he dropped to his knees, whispering, “Would you rather I give up? Is my fight already lost?”

  Moving her grasp to his shaking hands, she whispered fiercely, “Nothing is lost. You, Brokk Foster, are shielding your world and keeping the shadows at bay. I have been following you since you appeared in these woods. To see if the whispers of the forest were true.” Her touch was cool, and the aura of magic rippled around them as her grey eyes held his. “It is time you know the truth.”

  There was a surge of light, starting first from her skin, and Brokk watched as
it seeped into him, a pleasant warmth rushing through his core. The bruises peppering his body started to fade, the blood crumbling off his skin. The sluggish weight from the poison was lifted, his strength shooting back into his muscles like an electric current. The cumasach grinned with a lethal sharpness as she brushed her fingers against his skin once more, leaving three shimmering stars in its wake.

  “Do you wish to find it?”

  With a current of fresh breeze and fracturing of light, the forest began to shift, the dullness and murkiness of their world changing. The leaves turned silver before his eyes, bowing to make an archway before them. She raised her eyebrows at him, motioning to him.

  Hoarsely, he whispered, “Is this real?”

  “That will be up to you to decide.” Behind her, light rippled like a warm wind licking at his skin, calling him. Soft voices circled around him. He squinted, and peerless buildings came into focus. Eyes widening in shock, he took in the city swirling and forming before him. His dreams became his reality, and he drank it in, entranced.

  The lost city of Nehmai was just as much a myth as the woman who brought him here. It was legend that abilities had been born by the magic sowed in the earth by the hidden city and the cumasachs. Spreading through Kiero, it had touched the residents, their magic the core to everyone’s power.

  In his shock, he took in the wide courtyards and bubbling fountains, the smooth marble, peerless. Crystals formed as the water droplets touched the pool underneath it. Wide cobblestone streets wove deeper past the towering houses. Outside every window, large blooming flowers hung, their silver and gold petals glinting like jewels. Everywhere Brokk looked, lush greenery ignited the world that stretched beyond the buildings.

  It was ancient and surreal. He stepped tentatively, as if it would all disappear once more. The cumasach walked into the portal, and he followed at her heels, leaving Kiero behind.