Reborn in Ash, page 16
“Not at all,” Ada said. “Every ethelid is different.”
“I’m not sure I can work this one.”
Ada flipped the stone into the air and caught it. “Even if I manage to hit the wall, my stones won’t do much damage. I need both of your help to have any chance of avoiding killing people.”
“What do you mean?” Laith said.
“Think about it. If we attack Rinnite forts near the border and make their defences crumble, perhaps they’ll decide not to invade.”
“Ah. You’ve heard the rumours.”
“What rumours?” Tabitha asked.
Ada didn’t want to worry her, but she deserved to know. “People are saying the Rinnite army is moving east. They’re going to attack Asorea or Yriah.”
“I… I’ll try harder.”
“I’ve seen how quickly you can shift your essen with your other ethelid. With practice, you’ll be able to track a stone. I know it.”
Laith took a step closer to Tabitha. “You’re a skilled mage. I wish you could see–”
The ballroom door opened, and Shukri strode in. He and Ada had taken to training together daily from mid-morning, but this was the first time he’d brought a buckler with him.
“Did you invite them to watch me bury you under a dune?” he said with a vicious grin.
The freshly cut hair on the back of Ada’s neck stood on end. She’d missed the excitement of training with a blade. “I thought Laith could set your nose if I break it.” She handed the stone to Laith. “You two keep practising.”
“Ready to lose, thief?” Shukri said.
“That shield’s a bit small, prince.”
“I have no need to compensate for the size of my manhood.”
Ada laughed, and behind, Tabitha gasped. “Careful, there’s a lady present.” She drew her knives and leapt into the duel.
Less than a minute later, she fell on her rear, stunned from a blow to the head with the buckler. If they were fighting for real, she’d have a nasty head injury. Shukri offered his hand to help her up, but she batted it away. As she was standing, Fawziyya arrived.
“Tamir wishes to see you, Ada,” she said.
“Is it urgent? I’m training.”
“Learn to fall down another day.”
Ada scowled as she sheathed her weapons, but she couldn’t fully suppress her smile as she walked out. Shukri and Fawziyya made her feel like she was back home being insulted by mercenaries. She shook the thought from her head and ran up the stairs two at a time.
A few minutes later, Ada stood outside Tamir’s door. This time, she knocked, and his essen swept out. The touch was brief enough it didn’t make her feel ill.
“Come in, Ada.”
She found him slumped in an armchair by the fire, one hand rubbing his jaw, the other loosely holding a letter. He stared into the flames. Ada shut the door and took the other chair.
“What is it?” she asked, nodding to the letter.
Tamir sighed. “I’ve been ordered not to tell anyone, but honestly, you all deserve to know. Rin is moving their army east. We don’t know if they’re coming for us or if they’ll turn south to Yriah.”
Rumours were one thing, but confirmation was something else entirely. Ada snatched the letter from Tamir. He didn’t try to take it back. She read it over and over, trying to find some meaning he’d omitted, yet it was exactly as he’d said. Every rumour was true, including that it wouldn’t be clear which way the Rinnite army would turn until they passed the Dragon Spine mountains come spring. She stared into the fire a moment before spying the curling remains of burning paper.
“What did the rest say?”
“That I really can’t tell you, but we’re to remain here and keep training. If you want your orders to be to take down forts, you’ll need to break through that stone wall.”
“I know that. What I apparently missed was you finally sobering. Have you spoken to Clara? She’d want to know.”
He was quick to look away. “I’ve seen her. She asked me to let you out the first day the snow stops.”
A butterfly woke in Ada’s stomach. “And will you?”
“Don’t get involved with her. It will only cause you pain.”
“Even if it was like that between us, which it isn’t, since when have you cared about me getting hurt?”
Pity filled his eyes. “I know you were alone for two years before coming here, but have you really forgotten what it’s like to be cared for?”
“I’m a thief and a killer. I’m not worth caring about.”
“But I do care about you, and so does Clara. Except she doesn’t have the perspective I do. You’re best off never seeing her again.”
Ada swallowed her anger. “I’ll be at the gate the first day with no snowfall. I hope you’ll see sense and let me out.”
Tamir’s sigh drifted out of the room behind her.
Chapter eighteen
Cracks
The snow, it seemed, was a good excuse to stop Ada and Clara writing to each other. Ada’s letters were returned unsent, and none came from Clara. Ada didn’t know whether to direct her anger at Tamir or Goldaxe. None of the message runners would answer when she cornered them, beyond muttering that only priority letters were to move in the snow. It took all her willpower not to snap at them, remembering they were her sole means of getting letters to Clara.
Every morning, Ada went straight to her window. The view disappointed her every time until, after a week, a cloudless sky greeted her. Dawn’s light warmed her face through the glass despite it being feeble from winter’s grip. It was another month and a half until Grenaforn would mark the spring equinox, but for Ada, it had come early.
Fawziyya hadn’t arrived, so it was good that Ada didn’t have an appetite. She rushed to dress and was at the gate in time for the morning shift change. She tossed her ethelid to a guard she recognised, who called for the gate to be opened. Tamir had seen sense after all.
It wasn’t until Ada reached the wood that she realised Clara might not be awake yet, let alone waiting for her. She went to Clara’s tree and climbed onto the same branch she’d spied Goldaxe from. It was almost three months since she’d last seen Clara, and waiting a little longer didn’t bother her. Or so she tried to tell herself every time she stretched her essen towards the castle.
Only a few minutes could have passed when she sensed another essen beyond hers. It withdrew a moment before she snatched her own back. Though she expected to meet Clara, she had no idea if the king was hiding other mages in his castle. She jumped down from the tree and hid behind it, pulling her essen close to mask her astia. Soon, boots crunched through the snow, and an essen swept around the tree.
“Is that lump you, Ada?”
At hearing Clara’s voice, Ada stepped into view. “I suppose I can’t hide from you now that–”
Clara dashed forwards and wrapped her arms around Ada, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry.”
Ada squirmed under Clara’s grip but couldn’t get free. “What’s wrong?”
“I should never have sent Duke Goldaxe.”
“Is that all? I thought we’d moved past that.”
“No, it’s not all. I’m worried you might go to war.”
There was such anguish in Clara’s voice, Ada couldn’t help putting her arms around her. “I’ll be all right. I don’t think the king will throw our lives away when there are so few of us.”
Clara’s shoulders shook a few times before she stepped back. Her eyes shimmered with tears stubbornly held back. “I know you can’t bring your ethelid out here, but I can help train your essen. And your ability to hide your astia could save your life in Rin, so let's work on that too.”
“I train every day. I’ll be fine.”
“But you don’t train with me. I’ve been out there, in Rin. They’ve got more mages, and they’ve been training for longer. They’ve probably got more ethelids too, what with how much land the empire has stolen. I’ve convinced King Wallace to let me out once a week. We’ll train together, so tell me everything you know.”
They spent the morning sitting in the tree, sharing the knowledge they’d been unwilling to put in writing. Aside from being able to feel other essens approaching, Clara could sense far more detail than Ada despite her range almost matching. She believed Ada could retain that much clarity too if she learnt to dull her other senses. Clara showed her how meditation could free her mind from distractions. They were so focused on what Ada was failing to ignore that they didn’t notice someone approach until snow crunched beside them.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t come back for food,” a man said, who glared up at Ada. He held a cloth-covered basket, and his voice was familiar.
“Thank you, Volker,” Clara said. She gave him a sweet smile. “Pass us the basket and go away.”
As he lifted it, the furrows on his brow deepened. “I get it. Mage business.” The moment Ada had a sure grip on the basket, he spun on his heel and stormed off.
“He knows your secret?” Ada asked once Volker’s footsteps had faded.
“He does.”
“And is he always so rude?”
“He’s seen everyone as an enemy since we survived the attack on the palace.”
Ada almost dropped the basket. “You survived the Massacre of Karreziah? How?” Everyone in Thellian knew of when the Rinnite army stormed the Belmennian palace and slaughtered everyone inside. Men, woman, children. It was brutal and ended the war in one night, regardless of rumours that a few survived.
Clara looked westward, as if she could see all the way to the land of her birth. “I survived because I was a coward. I let Volker hide me.”
“I was six then, so you were what, five?”
“Eight.”
“How can you call yourself a coward? You were a child.”
“I still should have done something. Of everyone in the palace, only Volker and I survived.”
“Did your family work there?”
“They died there, yes. But I still have Volker, and I owe him my life. I–” A sob cut off her words, and tears slid down her face. No urge to flee filled Ada, but she didn’t offer a hug either. Something in the way Clara turned away told her not to. Instead, she opened the basket and passed Clara a steaming pastry parcel.
“Here. Hot food will help.” She took one for herself and bit into it. It was the same as the ones Clara had sent with one of her letters. “What’s in this?”
“Goats cheese, chestnut, and mushroom. It’s based on a Belmennian dish.”
“Can you bring these every time we train? They’re delicious.”
Clara laughed and wiped away her tears. “I’ll see what I can do.”
They spent the afternoon training Ada’s ability to hide. Whenever Clara found Ada, she helped her shift position to better match the shape of her environment. Becoming a lumpy root was best in the wood, but Clara seemed convinced Ada could pass for a boulder in the foothills of Rin.
All too soon, the sun began to set, turning the air to ice. Ada was already struggling to ignore how the chill nipped at her toes like a mouse in her boot. And Clara’s boots were too fancy to provide much warmth.
“How long have your feet been numb?” Ada said.
“A while.”
“You should have said.”
Clara’s expression turned stern. “Training you is more important. You’re smart, Ada. You understand magic at its heart. The king doesn’t realise it yet, but he’s going to need you. Only a fool would send you to war so soon.”
“What other choice does he have?”
The sky stole Clara’s gaze. “Let other people die until you’ve had more time.”
“If I have more time, so do Rin’s mages.”
“Then you’re content to be fodder for war?” Flames licked her words now.
“Of course I’m not. But I also have no choice.”
“I could get the king to let you leave here with your ethelid.”
Ada blinked. “Who are you that you can do that?”
“Just someone with the king’s ear.”
“He’d never let me keep my ethelid, and it’s too much a part of me now to leave behind. Could you give up yours?”
“You know I couldn’t. It’s been in my family for centuries.” Clara picked up the basket and started walking away, but she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “We train the first day of the week. Every week.”
Ada didn’t think there was much more she could do to train her essen. Clara proved her wrong. Week after week, Clara pushed Ada to stretch her essen further, meditating first so her other senses wouldn’t distract her. Their letter exchanges resumed, through which Clara pestered Ada to meditate daily. As much as Ada hated to admit such a simple thing could help, it did. The improvement was slow but steady, like it had been before she’d had an ethelid to distract her.
Thanks to Clara’s training, Ada’s ability to magic stones around also improved. Splitting her magic didn’t exhaust her the way it had. Her speed with casting increased, and when she shot stones in quick succession, it was almost as if she released them at the same time. But no matter how her essen strengthened, she couldn’t bring a stone wall down if she couldn’t hit it.
Huddled in her stone fortress one grey morning, Ada tested her current limit for splitting her magic. She had a least a foot to go before reaching the wall. Holding the magic there was like keeping a bow drawn for far longer than it would take to aim and release. Sweat beaded on her brow, but she pushed the magic further. Then further again. She strained against her body’s limits, yet no headache came, only aching weariness. With one last push, she shoved the magic to the wall. Her vision wavered and an ache grew behind her eyes, but she’d done it. Her essen was touching the wall. She released the magic.
The stone struck the wall and shattered, leaving a mark barely larger than the pebble had made all that time ago. Ada shot another stone, only for the same to happen. She needed more power. Thinking about how Tabitha and Laith shifted the density of their essens, she tried leaving just a thread of her essen on the stone. It fell to the ground.
Growling in frustration, Ada grasped the stone again and pulled the magic away gradually until it fell. The stone needed at least a third of the magic to remain in the air. Using a pebble instead, Ada found she could pull far more of the magic away. With as little magic on the pebble as possible, she pushed the rest to the wall. It was far more draining to send extra magic away, and after only a few moments, she had to release the pebble.
A crack rang through the air, and fragments of stone flew everywhere, forcing Ada to duck behind her arm. When she lowered it, she found a piece of the wall the size of a teacup was missing. Ada grinned and did it again. She’d just made a sixth dent when she sensed Laith and Tabitha approach. Laith entered the training area and whistled low.
“This is impressive,” he said. “Rinnites won’t stand a chance.”
Bile rose in Ada’s throat as a flash of Karim raced through her mind, blood slipping from the hole in his head. The hole she’d made. “I want to focus on tearing down Rin’s fortifications. But I need Tabitha’s magic.”
Laith pulled out his ethelid and grinned. “And mine.” He picked up a stone, which narrowed to a point on one end. Ada took the stone. His magic was still on it, keeping the point sharper than any arrowhead. Splitting her magic was no different, yet the crack was louder, and they all had to lift their arms as stone rained down. When it cleared, they stepped forwards to examine the hole. It was only a fraction deeper.
“This stone is too soft,” Ada said.
“Let’s try with mine,” Tabitha said. Despite how her magic had improved, it slipped a moment before Ada’s stones struck the wall. The hardness faded so quickly, it was no different to using the stones without Tabitha’s magic.
Determined to fight a war against structures not people, Ada dragged Tabitha with her the next time she went to train with Clara. After introductions, they jumped straight into finding the problem.
“Show me your essen’s range,” Clara said.
Ada and Clara followed Tabitha’s essen with theirs. Tabitha’s reach only encompassed a few trees around them, but she frowned and rubbed a temple.
“Is the distance uncomfortable?” Clara asked.
“No. But there’s so much foliage here. I don’t know how you reach further without becoming overwhelmed.”
“Hold your essen there and tell me about what I touch.” Bending down, Clara touched a daffodil.
“It’s a flower with a trumpet, and there are dewdrops on the petals.”
“You can relax now. Ada, how could you miss this?”
Ada stared at Tabitha, trying to ignore how powerful Clara looked with her hands on her hips and a slight crease between her brows. “You’re right, I should have realised she can sense so much detail. No wonder you struggle, Tab. Is it always like that?”
“Yes. It’s why I started using threads of essen. Even then, I’m partially aware of what’s going on around me.”
“Are you thinking what I am?” Ada asked Clara.
“An innate ability to always be alert, using so little essen we can’t sense it. But why?”
“A traumatic experience,” Ada said before Tabitha could feel pressured to explain. “Just as I learnt to mask my astia when I was desperate to hide.”
“You can do that?” Tabitha said. She looked somewhere between shocked and impressed.
“I can, but don’t tell anyone. Tamir hasn’t earnt the right to know, so I don’t want it getting out.”
Clara sighed. “You still haven’t made amends?”
“How can I when he utterly fails to protect us? Half the milk we get now is already soured. His solution is to buy goats. Anyway. We need to help Tabitha. It won’t be long before the snow melts on the Dragon Spine.”
“You should come weekly, Tabitha. I’ll teach you to meditate like I did Ada.”
A tiny snort of laughter escaped Tabitha. “Ada meditates?”
“She does.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “It’s a useful tool.”
