Dawn of Ash (3 page)

Always,
he whispered in hushed response to my thoughts, his magic moving into me steadily in a thick wave of warmth and love.
I will wrap my arms around you the moment I see you.

I knew he would. I could practically feel his arms around me now while his soft, hushed voice drifted into my mind in the melody that was embedded into my soul.

With a sigh, I wrapped myself up in the warmth, in the song, and fell back onto the bed, my breath slowing as the anxiety trickled away, leaving me with the unusually high level of anxiety I had quickly grown used to. War would do that to you.

My eyes finally pulled into focus as I lay there, the first light of day filtering through our tiny, blown glass window, making the ancient iron light fixture and plaster cracks that much more prominent.

“They are getting worse,” I whispered more to myself than to him, but I knew he would hear it, anyway. I knew he would understand. I needed him to.

I know.
The tension in his voice was heavy, the worry over me that he tried so hard to conceal leaking through.
Who was in the cloak this time?

I tensed at his question, knowing it was coming, and turned over in the bed, pulling his pillow into me like a teddy bear, silently thanking the stars it still smelled like him.

It was Wyn,
I spoke into his mind, the relay of information bringing his confusion and frustration right back to me like a wave.

Wynifred?
He was confused. I was, too.

Ever since we had come to this city, ever since we had been trapped in this dome three months ago, my sights had been … changing.

At first, it was nothing bad, just things shown from different angles. Visions altered into a different future that I knew was correct, like when we had first found Risha and the refugees hidden away in the city, when I healed Dramin. Even though they had changed, I knew they were correct.

Now, it was different. Now, they were confusing fragments that didn’t fit together, everything contradicting each other in cruel ways. I saw one thing, and then I saw something completely different. Sights kept changing, and everything I thought was real was now a broken and cruel contrivance.

It was as though I was only getting part of the information, like my receiver was broken. Just like that dumb television static I kept seeing. Who knew, maybe I was trying to predict a really good TV show.

One thing was perfectly clear: something was wrong. Though Ilyan and I had somehow moved into a silent agreement not to acknowledge it, we both knew it.

Did it look like Wyn?
he asked, his usual solve-every-problem demeanor coming on strong, his voice having already adopted the heavy powerful-leader strain I loved so much.

I cringed, not really wanting to pull up a recall, not wanting to feel that fear again. Luckily, this one I already knew the answer to. The look in her eyes, the way she smiled, it was too close to Ryland, or the Ryland Cail had created, anyway.

“Not really.”

I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. I could even imagine him dragging his hand through his hair as he always did.

You know me too well.

I smiled in spite of myself. He was right; I did. But that was how it was supposed to be, after all … when you loved someone.

We could ask Sain…

Just like that, the smile was gone. Oh, yes, my oh-so-loving father with his oh-so-perfect sights would be the logical choice of someone to ask. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to ask my brother. I didn’t want to hear either of them say to my face what I had heard whispered around the cathedral for the past few months. The whispers that I was sure Sain had started.

My sights were broken.

I couldn’t control my magic.

The thought ran through me like acid, and I growled in frustration, rolling off the bed with the full intention to get ready and join Ilyan in the reconnaissance mission he was preparing to lead, only to be met by a million aches and pains.

I grumbled audibly, sounding like an angry bear.

The sound made Ilyan chuckle, but I felt like I had been tossed around in a cement mixer for the last twelve days.

“How long was I asleep?”
Please let it be more than two days. Please let it be more than two days.

Enough, mi lasko.
He was sidestepping, and part of me didn’t care. I had already pulled the pitiful “thirty-six hours” answer out of his head.

That wasn’t nearly enough time.

I had been awake for two weeks, and if what Dramin had told me was correct, I would need at least three days to put my body back into the shape it needed to be. After all, it took time to heal broken bones and bruises from days of battles and raids. Those three days were very much needed, and thirty-six hours was nowhere near that.

Draks hardly slept as it was, but I
really
didn’t sleep.

I groaned louder, knowing there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t the first time the sights had woke me up, or even kept me from sleeping, for that matter.

“Maybe next time, then,” I muttered as I made my way to the long, battered dresser, ripples of dull aches and throbs running over my body.

You could just sleep now,
Ilyan whispered, despite knowing the answer to that.
You aren’t due to run a raid for the next few days.

I knew he had a point. Running through the city, facing waves of Edmund’s men, was definitely not what I needed right now. I knew what I needed, however.

“I want to see you.” It was only half a lie. I could already feel my heart beat faster, a tense knot of eager anticipation forming in my belly at the possibility of seeing him.

I want to see you, too.
His voice was deep and throaty as it came back to me in heavily accented English.

Far too quickly, I melted into teenage-romance goo, a wide smile spreading across my face as I giggled. The sound was far too loud and embarrassing for my own good.

Hmmm. Sounds like you want to see me more than a little bit.

Moving over to an old, antique mirror and the odd, fuzzy object that Ilyan was still trying to convince me was a brush, I tried to wipe the smile off my face, but it was no good.

“It’s mostly those arms I want to see,” I teased, trying to hide the smile with a smirk, knowing full well he was looking at me through my eyes, right through the dirty mirror.

Oh, is that all?
Ilyan’s voice filled my mind as I pulled the long, black tangles of my hair into a messy bun, wrapping the délka vedení královsk around the ponytail holder a few times before letting it trail down to the floor.

My hair was a mess no matter what I tried to do with it, but I really didn’t care. I was sure Ilyan would remedy the situation the moment he saw me.

I will, but you better hurry. This rooftop is awfully lonely.

Is it now?

He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. I could hear it in his voice, feel the longing in his heart. It set me on fire, a heavy wave of desire running through me.

I fidgeted as I pulled on my red shoes, the smile growing into a wave of white teeth as the knot in my gut got stronger.

Getting a moment alone with him was impossible most of the time; I wasn’t going to miss this. Ilyan would win over sleep every time.

It could be more than a moment, but you need to get here.

Smiling like a twelve-year-old with a puppy at his comment, I tore from the room, sipping from a mug of freshly pulled Black Water.

“Mmmmm,” I sighed as the heat from the deep magic moved through me, soothing away every ache and pain that had gripped me. Everything felt light for a moment, and for one second, I was worried another sight would come, but it was only me and the warm water and the sound of my shoes against the old, marble hallways.

Sometimes, I wonder about you and that stuff. Addicted some?

“You are not the first to say that.” I laughed, taking another long sip before refilling the mug.
I’m always willing to share, you know.

This time, he laughed, the deep, rippling sound shivering through me enjoyably before his voice went silent, his magic withdrawing as Risha arrived on the rooftop with several others. His focus changed as a million images flashed in my mind and sent my heart rate stuttering beyond recognition.

You were attacked?
I knew as well as anyone, if you stepped one foot outside the cathedral Ilyan and I had shrouded, you were going to be attacked. Given that, I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, it scared me. My temporarily calm heart had already accelerated into a panicked pace.

Yes, mi lasko, but we are all fine. Jsi moje láska, můj život, já budu s vámi brzy.
He pulled my focus right from the frightening reality to sweet nothings that seeped through me in a whisper of deep love, rippling in warmth and contentment.

I smiled to myself as his focused shifted again to Risha, his muscles tensing in fear. I could see the elegant woman in my mind, looking so much like Ovailia it was unnerving. I had learned very quickly that Skȓíteks definitely shared some features.

At least she was nice. I didn’t think Ilyan would have made her his second if she wasn’t.

Did everyone make it through alive? We need to get them back before another wave comes, by way of the large department store to the old warehouse near the wall and back.

The quick Czech as he spoke to Risha was like bees in my ears, so I tuned them out, looking at the high, stained glass windows that covered either side of the hallway. The images of ancient piety were framed by the span of buttresses that crisscrossed over the ceiling in a beautiful basket weave. The way the stone seemed to move, the light shimmering over everything like liquid gold, was magic. Magic the way I always imagined it as a child.

Taking another drink, I turned into a small alcove where there were two doors on either side of me, both heavy oak set with large metal nuts and grating, making it look like the entrance to a dungeon. If I didn’t know better, I would say that was where I was, and I was sure certain people would agree with me.

And by certain people, I meant Wyn.

Of course, she might not feel that way if she ever left the room.

The door creaked with a harassing groan as I opened it to a dark room. Dust motes danced through the ribbon of light that trailed behind me, the cluttered, derelict room seeming alive, although the depressing space sucked against me oppressively.

I had come to this room daily for the past few months, not only to check on the girl in question and her sleeping beauty, but my brother, as well.

Even though we hadn’t been able to tell exactly what the Vilỳ bite had done to Dramin’s body, he wasn’t the image of perfect health anymore, either. He looked like an old man, something that, given his age, would be accepted, except he hadn’t looked old months before.

I was worried about him, a worry that had done nothing more than increase as he had decided to open up about my heritage in ways that Sain had deemed illegal before. You didn’t do stuff like that. You didn’t break unbreakable rules and talk about your history unless you were reaching the end. That was how it was for my grandmother, anyway.

Dramin lay, feigning sleep, on the other side of the room. His small, twin bed was pushed into the corner, surrounded by bookcases and dusty, leather-bound books with large, earthen mugs of Black Water tucked between them like a child who was trying to hide candy bars. It looked much like his room at the Abbey had, much as I imagined his little alcove in the cave had. Full of food for mind and body, all of it intermingled in an ordered mess.

Like a mad scientist, one who wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to sleep judging by the wink he gave me before he rolled over to give us privacy, not that you could get any in a room the size of a closet.

I would feel bad, but he wasn’t who I had come in there for, anyway.

It was for Wyn.

She lay over the foot of Thom’s bed, her arms wrapped around him as though she was afraid he would slip away sometime in the night.

My heart clenched from seeing her there, the parallels to how I was when Ilyan had been rendered unconscious too much for me. It was the same heartbreak, the same fear, the same heart-wrenching plea for life. It was the same love that held her there.

Even if she didn’t see it yet, I did.

It was part of why I came there as often as I did, checking in on her, on him, part of me desperately wishing I would walk in and find them sitting and laughing as I was sure they had done so many centuries before.

Nothing.

I knew the chances of that happening were becoming less and less every day, and so did everyone else, even if no one wanted to admit it yet.

The ever increasing boils, the inability to wake, the way his body was collapsing in on itself, it was all part of the přetížení dávka—the magical overdose. And, according to Ilyan, it was something with no known cure, cause, or trigger.

Despite all of my ability, everything I had tried had bounced around inside of him like a ping-pong ball.

Besides the boils, besides the disheveled woman who had flung herself over him, Thom looked the same. He had the same dreads, the same smug smile plastered to his face as though he had told one of his little jokes and closed his eyes to enjoy it.

You would think he was sleeping; except, his side of the room looked nothing like him. While Dramin’s was a glimpse into the soul of the ancient man, Thom’s mirrored what had been slowly infecting us all for the last few months.

Tables were littered with a wild assortment of flora and fauna, poultices, and salves that sent a violent aroma into the air. Even a few battered mortal pill bottles lay among them all, a saline bag someone had tried to figure out how to use thrown into the corner. It was a hospital room of the worst sort, one formed in desperation and panic.

Anything to keep him alive.

My heart pulsed painfully at the thought, something I ignored as I pulled the doors shut behind me, locking myself into the room with a loud click that echoed with a rumble.