The Ash Queen, page 18
It had been some time since he had seen the king or the prince or any of their witches. Would they return from wherever they thought they were searching out answers? Were they looking for Fortitude and his men, or shadows?
Whatever they might be, they had managed to take the general and hide him away. Fortitude wanted Nelda, and that would surely draw her in. Not that it would do him any good. She was strong, and she had fire. But the cardinal had it all. The power of every witch Fortitude had the foresight to drain. And he would not share that with anyone. No matter how strong Fortitude thought he was, he was no match for the cardinal.
He wandered over to the throne, taking in the expanse of the room, the emptiness of it, and wondered if the Circle or the people of Burasal realised that their king had left them to rescue a man who should have been keeping him safe.
It wasn’t as though an army had left Sunsong, marching off to retrieve the man and keep the king safe. They had gone with their odd little band of witches, and that had not helped them the last time. It had driven Fortitude away, but he was not defeated or weakened. He was working on a way to win.
The cardinal lowered himself easily into the throne, feeling the same thrum of magic he had before. In fact, he felt it even more now that he had magic, as though it were powering him, making him stronger. He wondered what it could do for a man such as the king, who did not have any magic to strengthen.
The cardinal ran his hands over the smooth armrests, feeling the solidness of the wood beneath him. And yet, in some ways it was soft, giving, keeping him there, safe and secure. Could that be what it gave the king?
The cardinal sighed and closed his eyes, reaching out for the little witch, knowing she was still close and unprotected in the castle. She had to sleep at some point, had to rest, had to be vulnerable enough for him to reach her and take what he wanted.
It was surprising that there were so many with similar skills, and yet this child, this tiny child whom he had almost ended so long ago, had the one skill it appeared no one else had. Despite what it appeared Fortitude could do. But that was just sense; it was not anything magical, not due to the magic he had stolen and consumed and now wielded as though it were his own.
Drawing in a deep breath and a wave of strength from the throne, the cardinal stood and walked back through the wall, reaching out and taking the little one by the arm. She squealed in surprise and fear, and he was amazed again by the wonder at which he could move through one wall and come out the other side anywhere within Sunsong he chose. In fact, if he tried, he was sure he could walk into any room in Burasal.
The squirming child looked around for her companion, but she had been left behind and had no way to call for help or even explain what might have happened. But as he held her tight, the excitement and anticipation of sharing her power was quickly lost to the fact that he had no idea how Fortitude had taken it from the others, nor how he had transformed it.
There was blood involved, of that much he was sure. He could still taste the coppery scent of it on his lips. It was in every mouthful he consumed. He pulled her back to the throne room, wanting to sit again in the throne and take what strength he could from it. But he did not want her to have the same opportunity, and he was not exactly sure of all she could do.
A tight headache formed, as though someone were crushing his skull. He smacked her hard across the cheek with the back of his hand, and it stopped. She wiped slowly at her face, dazed at the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.
“You can be drained just as easily if you are dead,” he hissed, leaning into her face. She tried to pull back, but he held her too tightly. “Do not try that again.”
She tried to stare him down, but her lip was quivering. He knew she was more scared of what he would do to her than confident in her own abilities.
“Perfect,” he crooned, pulling her through the wall, and she squealed again as they entered the tiny room he had turned into both storage and sleeping quarters.
He let her go. She shuffled back from him, pressing into the wall. Looking wildly around the room, she took in the shelves of elixir as the shimmer calmed his anger. She stood slowly. He had forgotten just how small and young she was. She stood straighter, her hand rubbing at the arm he had been holding. He thought she might step forward, but instead she turned to him and smiled.
“They will come for me,” she said.
“If they live,” he replied, expecting her confidence to slip, but it did not.
She just smiled more. “Heath will end you,” she said. He smacked her again, knocking her to the ground, and she did not get up.
Chapter 25
Something rippled through the ground, like a small shockwave. It seemed as though it were trying to tell Heath something, only he had no idea what it was. He had to focus on where they were now and where they were going. Their small group had grown. He did not know how he had understood that it would or what the sisters could do to help.
“Faith,” he murmured. Frayne had been certain they needed their faith, and Heath wondered if that would be enough. The map had shown that the general was not far, at least not as far as he had been. But he was still too close to Heath’s parents for his liking, and he had no idea if the shadows would make the connection or not.
“I have faith in you,” Lia whispered. He was thankful that she had remained close. She had claimed he was grounding, and yet having her press into him—the weight of her against his chest—was far more grounding than anything else he had experienced before. He leant forward and pressed his cheek to hers.
“What sorts of magic are there?” he asked.
“Many,” she said. “I only know what I have, but I could feel your mother’s fire in her and in her brother. You are the earth, that I can also feel.”
He too could feel the water in her. The more time they spent together and the more of them there were, the stronger and clearer he felt. His understanding of the world had grown. He wondered what a world with free witches would be like, what wonders they could achieve.
“Fire, water, air we have talked of. Earth.” He paused, wondering just what the little one had. “Is Pip’s gift the mind or something else?”
“I’m not sure I fully understand it,” Lia said. “But there may be others. We guess at air, but what of light and dark? What if the monks discovered how to use the magic of dark, or the lack of light, or they have light and have taken it away?”
“That could be something,” Nelda said, her horse trotting along beside them. “We do not know enough of what we are and what we are capable of. All those years hiding away, so scared to be discovered that we did not even search out our own kind. They have spent a lifetime learning, dissecting, and collecting and have a far greater understanding than we do of ourselves.”
Heath glanced at Nelda. Her long sleeves covered the scars on her arm created by those same monks stealing her blood, using it for their own purposes. He wondered then, as she watched the path ahead, what other scars she might carry. He knew she had been in danger her whole life, and he had feared himself despite a need to follow her into the woods that night. He wondered if it was the magic within him that had drawn him to her. But then, he hadn’t felt or sensed his own magic. He had shown no skill at all until Frances had spoken to him. Despite the mother saying it was a gift, he wasn’t sure that it came from the Goddess.
But in a way, he had forgotten that Nelda had been running for so long, that she’d had to deny what she was, that her life was a fear of being discovered and killed, and that her own brother, the brother they were risking their lives to save now, had been the main threat to her.
“He nearly killed you that night,” Heath said, and she nodded without turning towards him.
“Hush,” Lia whispered.
“No, I’m not raising this to hurt you.”
“I know that,” Nelda said, giving him a little smile. “There is much you want to ask. But now is not the time.”
“I just think there is more out there than we realise, more we don’t understand—and if we did, we would be better placed to end this.”
Nelda nodded, but said no more.
“What do you think?” he asked Lia.
“I think she is right, and that we need to focus on what we are to do to free your uncle and anyone else you might be worried about. Doing this may not change what the kingdom is, how witches are treated, or whether the crown will continue to kill them.”
Heath blew out a long breath. She was right. Despite the king’s feelings for Nelda, or at least his apparent feelings for her, he had made no promises. He had offered to talk with Grace, and Heath had hoped it was to offer her a safe place—yet she had died anyway. His heart thumped at the idea of her. His chest hurt. He should not have left them, no matter what she thought of Frayne or what he might have thought of her.
Thinking of Grace, he could feel the woman before him more solidly, the water within her, the press of her legs against his, her back against his chest. She put her hand over his, and despite his grip on the reins she infused a calm where her skin met his.
Then something shifted in the world around them, something in the trees. They pulled back from him, opening the pathway, although the road was not quite as smooth. He could see further ahead than he had since they had left Sunsong. He wanted to pull the horse to a stop, but he pressed it to move faster. He could hear the horses around him, the sound of the cart moving over the rougher terrain.
No one spoke, and he wondered if they could all see what he could. But despite the clear path, as though the forest was telling him this was the only way to go, the shadows moved and flickered around him. Not moving with the light but rather on their own. He reached out his senses, hoping he could get an understanding of what was out there. But there was nothing but trees and the call of the earth.
A sister started to sing. It was beautiful but did not hold the same magic that Nelda’s voice did when she sang. The forest leaned in around them as though to listen. The shadows cleared somewhat, and for just a moment Heath was sure he saw someone in a white dress from the corner of his eye, hidden amongst the foliage. When he turned, she was not there.
Other sisters joined in the singing, their voices filling the forest around them. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. The shadows must already know they were coming. It was the reason they had taken the general in the first place, to call Nelda to them. And yet, in some odd way, he was sure that the hymn was keeping them safe. Calling the world around them, ensuring the Goddess was watching over them. But then, she must have always been.
Was the Goddess responsible for putting the sisters in the way of the king, and saving him? Heath and the soldiers might not have reached him in time if the sisters hadn’t found him first. And they would strengthen what little power they did have over the shadows. When Nelda had sung, it had helped clear the shadows, but then they had stopped her voice.
Heath looked around at the few soldiers, the two witches, and a group of sisters of the Goddess on a rickety cart. They were going to take on the shadows and a creature he could not understand. What if they all had the ability to shift into such a being? Would the light be enough?
They did not have light. They had fire, in the form of Nelda, but he knew there was something else they needed. He did not know where to find it, or how they might take on these men. He did not even know how many of them there were. No matter their numbers, he was starting to think this was a very bad idea.
“Heath,” Lia whispered, and he looked down at her looking up at him. “I trust you.”
“I’m not sure that is a good idea,” he said. “I might be leading us all to our deaths.”
She smiled and put her hand to his face as she shook her head. The sound of the singing had softened somewhat, but it still filled the forest surrounding them. She leant in quickly and kissed him, just a quick touch of her lips to his, and he wondered at the feeling. Had she done that before? Did she really care for him, or was it something else—something in his magic?
She brushed her fingers over his check once more and turned back to the road, snuggling against him. He closed an arm around her and then pulled the horse to a stop. The sound of movement behind him died out, as did the singing. The path ahead of them, still opened by the trees, was lost to a dark fog.
Were his parents in such a world? Were they lost in the dark as well? Should he find them first, or would that put them at greater risk? To allow the king insight into who had raised his son and what he might think that implied? No matter what anyone had suggested, Heath knew in his heart that his father would not have taken Frayne under the queen’s orders. At least, he hoped that he knew that. He had no idea of his father’s past, that he had been a soldier, that he had watched over the queen and had lived so differently before Heath’s birth. Or at least in the lead up to it.
Heath had no doubt that the man who had raised him was his father. And yet, he had no idea just how close in age he was to his brother. The brother he had thought was his twin for so long. Frayne came up beside him, and he found himself between Frayne and Nelda. Facing into the dark and wondering if they should not have given up. Were they certain that the shadows had dragged the general this far? Maybe they had killed him, as they had tried to do to Heath when they could not take him. The fact that he was missing was all that Nelda needed to go out and find him.
“This is what we need to do,” Frayne said.
Heath knew in that moment that Nelda had been right—Frayne should have stayed away. He was in far more danger being here, and with the king. The whole kingdom was at risk.
“We can beat them,” Frayne insisted.
“Are you certain?” Heath asked, doubting his brother’s ability and his own, for he had never doubted Frayne before.
“I have faith,” Frayne said, smiling and glancing over his shoulder at the cart of sisters behind them. Heath wanted to laugh. They were never going to be strong enough for this. They had nothing to fight with, other than a few swords, and he doubted his magic would stand up to the creature he knew was hiding in the mist ahead of him, determined to end them all.
Chapter 26
Nuris could feel Nelda getting closer. He hoped that was because she was coming for him rather than because she was in the mist. Either way, he did not want her close, did not want her to risk herself for him. The shadows wanted exactly that. It was the reason they had taken him, so that she would come and the creature would have his supply of magic.
He could not guess at how they would take it from her, and he did not want to. He just knew that she should not be close, should not come for him. Yet the closer she came, the more in control he felt, the more determined he was to break through the bonds that kept him in this odd prison.
No light penetrated the mist, yet he saw shadows move through it and watched the dark change about him. It continued to press on his chest, holding him in place. The moment he thought he would never draw another breath, it lessened a little. When he thought he had the strength to pull free, it closed in around him, tighter and more frightening than it had been in the past.
It was an enemy he could not see. Had he wasted all his efforts over the years, chasing the wrong enemy? Hunting out the people who could help him and the kingdom become stronger? His focus on the wrong area had allowed the evil to grow within the very walls he’d been trying to protect.
The king would be disappointed in him. He could only hope that if they survived this, King Dunstan and his son, that they might reign over a different kingdom, might understand the world as it should be and not as they’d been led to believe it was.
“The cardinal is still pulling your strings,” he breathed into the mist. The cool dampness bit into his clothing and prickled his skin. Would he ever be warm and dry again? The idea of Nelda and her warmth returned to him, as though she were getting closer and closer.
“That man is nothing,” a voice whispered in his ear. He turned, or at least tried to in the odd confines of the mist, to see who was standing beside him. There was nothing there. No one with him.
“He made all of this possible,” Nuris wheezed. “He is the reason you are here.”
“I am the reason he is what he is,” the voice growled, pressing the mist tighter around Nuris. “He is nothing without me. He is a puppet.”
“Puppets cannot walk through walls and take what they want. They cannot make demands of the king.” Although, Nuris was not certain as to what the cardinal had been the last time he had seen him, other than more powerful than he had imagined.
“Walls?” There was a query in the voice, a thoughtfulness, as though it was working out what he was, or at least what he had done.
“He is more powerful than you,” Nuris added, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.
Something cried out, a scream perhaps. Could he hear singing in the distance?
She was coming. The singing was not hers, he knew that—could feel that in his dampened soul—and yet it called to mind the Goddess and all the wonders she held close. The world she had created. He felt something shift in the mist around him.
There was something else in the mist, witchcraft. He had no idea why he was so certain it was there. He understood witches, he knew when they were close, and yet he still did not understand what the queen had been for all those years. Although he felt the witches close at times, he understood that they were not.
Now they were. Now there was more than just Nelda coming into the mist; there were others as well. Was that good for him, or would it only strengthen the creatures around him? The creature wanting the world to be as he saw it alone.
And then she was standing before him. Her face was lost to the dark, but he knew it was her. It took all his effort to move in the dark, shift and put his arms around her.
