Crown of Ash (Blood Skies, Book 4) (2 page)

ONE

BLACKSAND

Year 2
5
A.B. (After the Black)

She dreamed of silk sheets and soft pillows, golden sunlight and ochre clouds.  She dreamed of a warm woman in her bed, and birdsong outside the window.  She dreamed of sandstone pillars and the smells of cinnamon and hyacinth.

But when Danica Black woke, she found none of those things.  She was still in the dirty sheets in
a
hotel
in Blacksand,
where she
star
ed
through gritty yellow air filled with blood flies and dust.
  Everything was moist and damp and tasted
like the inside of an engine. 

Danica stared up from a bed in a small concrete room.  Gashes and graffiti littered the walls.  Greasy drops of water seeped out of cracks in the faded stone and pooled on
a
floor covered in rags and discarded clothing. 
Danica’s gear was on a small table near the door, all except for her guns and knives, which were secure in their harnesses on the metal headboard of the bed, just beneath the small window.

Mystic chants and the groan of industrial machines sounded outside.  The smell of fish and fuel and roasting meat wafted through the windows. 

Danica groaned.  Four black guavas was at least three too many, but once she and Kane got
going
it was sometimes difficult for them to stop.  Pain flared behind her eyes, so deep it was like someone had driven needles
there
.  Her back and neck were sore and stiff
.  S
he rose and stretched
, and h
er muscles popped and realigned.

Her spirit hovered over her like a burning sheet.  She felt his angst at having been cooped up with her for so long. 
They’d been in Blacksand for
roughly
three weeks, and
they
rarely
got
out in the open.  She called him down and let him swim through her fingers like warm oil.  He phased through her body like a wave of heat
and
evaporated the alcohol
from
her system.  She
held him in check
– if he did his work too quickly she’d end up vomiting all over the place, and one of the fringe benefits of being a mage was that she could drink as much as she wanted without having to go through all of th
at
. 

Danica pulled on her tank-top and loose black pants and fastened on her combat boots.  While there was little need to wander around their temporary hideout in full body armor, she’d have been remiss if she didn’t keep a firearm and a bla
de handy
.  F
or all intents and purposes they were
in hostile territory. 

Blacksand was a criminal port-city located near the southern edge of the continent, several hundred miles outside of Southern Claw territory.  While the criminal controlled
town wasn’
t considered an enemy of the Southern Claw, the general state of lawlessness and prolific illegal activ
ity kept everyone on their toes
,
especially
since
some
one
had been a
sking questions about the team –
and
specifically about Danica – for
the past several days. 

Someone hunted them, and they had no one to fall back on for assistance
except for each other and
their
“
host
”
, a local crime lord named Klos Vago. 
And
Vago’s
help
came at a price.

The team had rented the entire
top
floor of an extremely run-down
hotel
called
The Fire Goddess,
located
near the center of the city.  The walls were grooved metal stained with rust and soot,
and
the entire structure
appeared to
ha
ve
been
built
from the rem
ai
ns of a crashed
airship
. 
F
lickering
beams
of grungy light
cut through circular fans in the ceiling
.  Danica heard the groan of aircraft and dirigibles and the roaring engines of gas-powered sea vessels
as they
pull
ed
into port.  A glaze
of sweat
covered everyone and everything in Blacksand, and pollut
ion hung as thick as oil in the stifling
heat. 

Danica pulle
d open the door to her quarters
and stepped into the
hall
.

“Morning,” Ronan said quietly
.  The swordsman was lean and tall, dressed all in black, with metal-studded boots and fingerless gloves.  One hand gripped a throwing dagger, while the other held an MP5
A5
.  His short and spiky hair
was dark and
looked like it had never been properly groomed
.  H
is once-good looks had been
permanent
ly marred when he’d leapt into a blade storm to pull Cross to safety.  Most of Ronan’s cuts had largely healed, but he still
wore several messy
bandages,
and most of the time
he wore a
black
shemagh
to
conceal his face. 

“Morning,” Danica said.

“I’m
kidding.  It’s noon.”

“Whatever.”

One of the
other doors in the hall
opened
.
Maur wande
red out
; he
fidget
ed
with something in his small hands.  The
diminutive
and
pale-faced Gol wore red fatigues
.  He’d
left his cloak in his room
, and
his bald grey pate
was
basked with sweat.

“Maur says it’
s far too hot in this building,” he said.  None of them knew why he always referred to himself in the third person, but he’d
been
do
ing
it for as long as any of them had ever known him. It had made the team’s
first
interview with the pilot-mechanic somewhat confusing, and during most of the conversation Kane had been convinced
Maur
was talking about someone else. 

“It’s like that everywhere in Blacksand,” Ronan said snidely.

“Then Maur thinks we should leave.”

“We’re working on it,” Danica said. 

Unfortunately, they were in something of a bind.  They had to try and purchase passage to get back home, but that wasn’t going to be easy with no money and with someone
actively
hunting them.  The identity of their stalkers had yet to be revealed, but from what they’d learned whoever it was had sold
iers stationed outside the city
,
as well as
plenty of
money
and influence
.  According to Vago,
every
cutthroat bounty hunter in Blacksand had their eyes out for
them
. 

And there
are
a
lot
of bounty hunters in Blacksand,
Danica thought. 
Like
…
half
the population.
I wish we hadn’t blown the rest of our cash paying two week’s rent on this dump
.  Of course, they’d had little choice after
a near-fatal run-in with a squad of
Vuul headhunters
.  That fight
was what
had first tipped them
off
to the fact that someone in Blacksand was actively hunting them down
. 
They
weren’t able to
afford passage
away from the city
, but they
’d
had enough
money
to
go into hiding
, at least for a short time
. 
And now we’re trapped.

Danica nodded towards the door
behind Ronan.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Same as ever,” Ronan said quietly. 

“Morning!” Kane said as
h
e
came out of
his room
.  He wore no
shirt
,
and his pants
were
partially undone.  His long blonde hair fell just past his shoulders.  Dozens of tattoos and scars covered his chiseled chest and washboard stomach. 

If I was straight, I would probably jump you
, Danica thought with a
quiet laugh
. 

“
Not morning. 
Lunch time,” Ronan said.

Kane threw up his hands
in mock despair
.

“Get dressed,” Danica told him.  “We have to meet with Vago.”

“What does Ugly the Hutt want?” Kane
yawned
.  He
pulled
on
a dirty grey shirt
as he walked across the
hall
.  “Is he finally going to help us?”

“That’s what he said when I spoke to him,” Danica said, and she didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in her voice.  Vago had dangled them around like worms on a hook for over a week. 
They’d already performed a handful of odd jobs for him, but t
hey
needed
him to
agree to
terms of how much
service they’d provide in exchange for passage north
, and they needed him to do it
before
their mysterious pursuers caught up with them.  “
Maybe
he can also tell us who’s looking for me.”

“Us,” Ronan said.  “You mean ‘us’.”

Black hesitated.
 
“Yeah,” she said.  “Us.”  She looked at the door.  “I’m going to
go
say hello.”

The door opened to a stark
concrete
room.  They’d chosen
it
because the small window was reinforced with an iron grille and
it
faced south, so very little sunlight came
into the room
…
although
none of them was sure why that mattered.  Direct sunlight was unlikely to stir the occupant of the chamber.  The bed was neat, nearly made, even though a man lay
on top of
it.

Eric Cross was twenty years
older than when he’d left the
team behind
to
go and
find out what
had
happen
ed
to him after he’d fallen in
to
a vat of necrotic fluid in the Bonespire near Thornn.
He’d never come back.  They’d pursued him halfway across the continent before
they’d caught up with him.  Even after
they’d found him
, his nightmare
had been far from
over. 

H
is once boyish face was
lined with
age and
fatigue. 
E
ven after they’d changed him
out of his soiled clothing
and trimmed up
his
dark and
scraggly beard
he
was still just
a haggard reflection of who and what he’d once been.
  He was tall and thin, and skin once pale had gone darker, almost leathery.

Danica quietly stepped up next to his bed.  He hadn’t woken since they’d rescued him.  They’d lost two of their team getting him back, and they had very few answers as to what had happened, or why he was still asleep.  They didn’t know how to help him.

But if we can ever actually get
you
back to Thornn, maybe we
can find out
,
Danica thought. 
God damn this place.

She ran a finger along Cross’ weather-beaten cheek.  He looked so strange with a beard.  She hated seeing him like that,
so
helpless
.  So
alone.