Dawn of Ash (48 page)

“It should have stopped you this time,” Ilyan snapped, the level of his anger making even me feel like I needed to find a way to bow out. Judging by the look on Ryland’s face, I wasn’t the only one.

“What? And let you lot go off and get killed without me? No, thank you,” she fumed, her arms crossing over her chest in such a way that I didn’t see her as anything other than a punk, seventeen-year-old kid. “I have done worse and gotten away with less—”

“I still decide your punishments!”

“You are not my father!”

Their yelling swelled in volume as Ryland and I stepped away, tiptoeing through the thankfully still motionless bodies as we tried to move as far away from them as possible.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Ryland’s voice was tense, the stress clearly still gripping him tightly, not that I blamed him.

“You mean Wyn and Ilyan fighting?” I tried to ask the question as lightly as possible, knowing it wasn’t what he was talking about. I didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, either, and I hadn’t even had to fight the dumb things.

“No,” he said with a laugh, the sound still strangled by tension. “The whole zombie apocalypse thing Sain cooked up. I mean, how … how…?” He didn’t seem to be able to get out much more than that, not that I blamed him. His eyes had gone right to where mine had—to the graveyard Sain had not only created, but resurrected.

I took a step toward it, my heart beating painfully as the same question strummed through me. My magic pulled at me in what I hoped would be answers.

“Keep the magic alive, and you can use it. You can mold it into whatever you want…” Step by step, I moved, the whispers of their dying magic flying up to me as I noticed what I was positive Sain had not wanted us to see. “These aren’t Skȓíteks.”

“I’m sorry?” Ryland asked, obviously not following.

“These are Chosen Children. They weren’t Edmund’s best men; they were just men with weaker magic that he could use…” My words froze in my throat as I stepped up to the pile, the gaunt eyes of dozens staring at me, their mouths agape in death, the sounds of cries echoing from somewhere deep inside of them.

“Do you hear that?” My voice was strangled in fear, praying I was hallucinating. The eyes of the lifeless man before me stared, his mouth open in such a way that, for a moment, I was sure the sound was coming from him.

“Hear what?”

The sobs increased, the word “help” now intermingled in the panic, the single word a sobbing plea that cut through me. I could tell this was different. This was not some corpse come to kill us, not with the way it cried, not with the way it sobbed for help.

“That.” Looking to Ryland in alarm, I pushed my magic into Ilyan, part of me knowing I needed to take control, while another part not emotionally capable to make such decisions.

Ilyan,
I said, and the sound of fighting behind us stopped.
We need you.

He was with us in a second, his heart beating loudly within me.

“Be careful,” Ilyan finally said, his voice shaking as he took a step toward the mound, his motions and words making everyone’s fears clear.

After what Sain had done, after everything he had revealed, we had no way of knowing what was underneath there.

Without another word, we all moved, our motions slow as we sifted through something that I tried in vain to convince myself was nothing more than a pile of rocks. It didn’t work. My stomach threatened to turn itself out as we moved the bodies away, the heavy, limp masses sagging under our weight, our hands slipping on blood-covered skin. Everything smelled like blood and sweat, a vile combination that amplified as we moved the bodies, the sounds of the sobs increasing as we did so.

Wyn and I grabbed a hold of a young man, moving him aside as the blonde head of a little girl came into view, her cries ricocheting loudly around the street as the frightened child emerged. Her motions were frantic as she wiggled from the death she had been trapped in, her body covered in blood, her own blood seeping from cuts littered over her body, everything red except for her eyes, the panicked orbs desperate as she reached for freedom.

With a scream of fear and relief, she broke free, wrapping herself around the first living thing she could find.

Ilyan looked out of place as the tiny child clung to him.

“Please,” the little girl sobbed, her voice strangled as she tried to talk through her tears. “Don’t make me go back. Please. He’ll hurt me. All they do is hurt me,” she cried into Ilyan as she clung to him, her hands leaving bloodied prints all over his shirt.

His face twisted with the same question I could feel strumming through me.
Do you think she is safe?
he asked, his voice tenser than I thought it would be given the situation.

She’s a child.
It was the logical answer, but one I knew didn’t really qualify in this situation.

Not with Edmund.

He had used children before. He had hurt them, abused them.

Destroyed them.

I knew that this was no different, but with the way she cried, with the way she sobbed and panicked, I knew as well as he did that we didn’t have another choice.

Everyone knew it.

Wyn moved toward the little girl slowly, looking from Ilyan to me as if for permission before kneeling before her, her motions slow as she reached for the child. The girl jerked away in obvious fear of a slap.

“You’re okay,” Wyn soothed, her voice soft and kind. My heart opened as I saw a side of my best friend I hadn’t seen before. “We aren’t going to hurt you; I promise. We’re the good guys.”

The little girl said nothing; she looked at Wyn, her lips quivering as the tears threatened to break free again.

“My name is Wyn, and this is Ilyan and Joclyn and Ryland. What’s your name?” Wyn kept her voice calm, mellow, her motions slow.

I looked from her to Ilyan who didn’t seem at all confused by this change. Ryland, however, looked at her like she had grown a third head.

“Míra,” the girl finally answered, her voice little more than a broken sob.

“Hello, Míra. We are going to take you to our home now. We are going to help you. Will you let us do that?”

She nodded.

I appeared in Ovailia’s room without so much as a preliminary check. Thank goodness it was empty except for its owner. The girl in question sat in her chair, propped up on pillows as though someone was afraid she was made of glass.

However, I knew she was stronger than that.

“Sain!” At my appearance, she jerked, anger rumbling through the shock that was clear on her face. I guessed I was lucky she didn’t attack me. Anyone else and she would have. “What happened? What are you doing here? Did you finish the task my father sent you on? Did Míra succeed?”

“She’s alive,” I hissed, knowing full well Ovailia had no idea whom I was talking about. “They both are.” The words were loud as I hissed, the desperation that the last few minutes had trapped me in continuing to grow as I paced the room.

“Míra succeeded? So we are safe?” Even through her confusion, her magic pressed against me as mine did hers, the two powers mixing delightfully. I had been right from the start; she would make a wonderful addition.

“Why didn’t you kill her?”

“Kill Míra? What are you talking about, Sain?” Her magic withdrew as her jaw tightened. Her demeanor was stoic, even though I could see the fear in her eyes. It was the same as I had seen when she had faced her father. It was beautiful to see her look that way at me, to adhere to me to such a degree.

“Kill Wyn. I fed her to you on a platter. I
watched
you kill her in sight. I saw her die. Your boot moved through her skull. But her skull isn’t so much as bruised.”

“She’s alive?”

Her shock angered me more.

“Yes, she’s alive! I need her dead. They should both be dead by now.” With a growl that ripped through the room, I spun toward Ovailia, my eyes wide as I did my very best not to attack her right then, something I wasn’t sure was the right choice.

Her eyes widened as she straightened her jaw, the tension in her body making her look like she would fly off the couch and kill Wyn now if I gave the word.

It was tempting, but that wouldn’t help, not anymore. One move, one foolish move, and everything had changed. It was too late to repair the damage that was done. Now I needed to find a new hand to play.

I knew what that move need to be.

“Can you walk?” I growled at the blonde beauty before me, and her eyes narrowed in obvious irritation.

“Of course I can walk; I’m not a child. Edmund may think my magic is weak and broken, but he underestimates me all the time.” Her voice was snide, powerful, all fear of the temper I had unfurled on her gone.

I smiled, the need to destroy her decreasing with the confidence she held.

“Wonderful,” I cooed, moving right back to her. This time, she didn’t shy away. Her magic moved right to mine as she sensed the change. “Because I am going to need your help.”

“Anything.” He voice was light, her eyes dark.

Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned down to her, pressing my lips against hers as our magic flared in a powerful jolt. I felt her lips, felt her touch against my neck, the small pressure sending a feral growl rumbling from the back of my throat as I pulled away, my eyes wide.

She looked at me with a hunger I hadn’t seen before, her eyes bright, her loyalty clear.

I didn’t think I had ever enjoyed a kiss as much as I had in that moment. I guessed I would keep her around a bit longer than I had originally assumed.

“Good,” I replied, making her smile deepen. “Because we need to see your father.”

“My father?” The hunger in her eyes vanished in an instant, hatred taking its place as she pushed herself to standing, her motions still a little stiff.

“Yes,” I whispered, taking her hand as my magic flooded into her, moving right to her spine, soothing the still tender tissue in hopes of making it stronger, at least for the next few minutes. “I’m going to need you to take out his guard. Can you do that?”

She looked at me in query, but I offered her nothing else. I needed her loyalty without question right now, something that would be put to the test shortly.

She hesitated, her eyes boring into mine as the thoughts moved through her until, gradually, the smile returned. Her hand left mine as she moved to the tall wardrobe at the foot of her bed. She rifled through boxes before she reemerged with a small vile clutched tightly in her hands.

“I will make sure they are as useful to my father as Thom is to Ilyan now.” She shook the contents, the thick fluid moving brightly through the tiny space.

“Wonderful,” I said, my magic flaring in acceptance and calm.

She smiled at the pretense, even though she had no idea that what she had said was a perfect remedy for what was about to happen.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You are a smart girl, Ovi. This, I know you can figure out. Protect our lives, and everything else will fall into place.”

Saying nothing more, I moved toward the door, breathing deeply as I prepared for what I was about to do. My heart thundered in a mixture of excitement and nerves I had never felt before that moment. It was an oddly intoxicating sensation.

“Take me to him,” I whispered as I shifted into a cower, my body folding in on itself as I began to shake, pushing my magic back down inside my heart, knowing that, if Edmund felt even a whisper of what was coming, of what I really was, none of this would work.

Ovailia said nothing else as she flung the door open, her hand winding around my collar as she dragged me from the room. The guard who was stationed outside stood to attention, shock moving across his face at our sudden appearance.

Keeping my body hunched and broken, I turned my hand a fraction of an inch, letting a powerful attack move through the air and right into him. The stealthy spell sped up his spine, dislocating nerve endings and severing tendons. The man crumpled back into the chair as the magic struck his brain, the simple attack rendering him useless as it burned, his body already immobilized from the pain.