Dawn of Ash Read online

  To Kozi, near the river.

  My power flared inside of me at the sound of her voice, the strength of her command. The deep growl of the pure Drak magic swelled as I pulled it from the place I had hidden it within myself.

  The icy chill of the powerful magic swirled as it took control, flooding me, and then, with the tiniest pop, with the smallest amount of effort, I moved, my body stuttering right to where Ovailia had commanded: the Kozi—the long, historic street that extended straight from the Vltava River, the banks of which had overflowed weeks ago, leaving bright red water lapping against the historic buildings, eroding the cobbles and thousands of years of history.

  One place to another, without the faintest bit of effort.

  A stutter.

  A perfect stutter.

  As they were meant to be.

  Ilyan could perform a stutter because of the magic of his father, the weak strain of Drak magic the Chosen children possessed. It was why Edmund could stutter so flawlessly, and Ilyan was able to because the whispers of the same power ran through his own veins, the tiny magic amplified by the magnitude of his power. It was only the Drak who could truly stutter, who could truly manipulate time and space.

  Drak power Edmund had stolen, that Ilyan had seized.

  For centuries, I had let them believe it had something to do with the amount of power a body held.

  It was an easy lie to let grow, just like all the others.

  Like the ‘sight’ that had led Edmund to order the murder of all those bastard Chosen children who were like his siblings. One word to him about their danger and he had killed them all.

  I needed them gone, and Edmund had given that to me.

  It was needed. I couldn’t control their magic, after all. I couldn’t restrain the Drak power within the Chosen children as I had in my progeny, as I still struggled to do in Joclyn.

  Letting that much power roam free would risk the future I had planned. The magic was too powerful for them, anyway. They had not deserved it. No one, not even my precious Dramin, deserved it.

  At least I could control him.

  Consequently, they had to go.

  Joclyn would go, too. I had already groomed Edmund for that task centuries before. Although, at the time, I had assumed I would be able to control her, use her, a bit more than I had. No matter. She would be gone soon, thanks to a little information leaked to Edmund like a slow drip.

  They saw her as nothing more than a threat, not what she really was. Edmund would destroy her, and thanks to sight, I already knew how Ilyan’s life would end.

  They were the only two who could stop me, and they were half-dead already.

  Everything was coming together.

  I sped through the alley, moving dangerously close to the high wall of the dead end, as her voice came again. The false sugar she was so good at coating it with grew deeper. Near the wall, on Na Ostrohu.

  The blood-splattered stone wall was inches from me before my magic surged again, pulling me from one side of the city to another. This time, it was to a large street nestled beside the wall, the red-tinged light so deep you could barely see through it.

  Running beside the modern homes and buildings felt out of place, the light tinting everything a deep crimson. I should have enjoyed the imagery of a beautiful scarlet world, but something was wrong. Something felt different. Something was here.

  I froze in place, the constant movement Edmund believed was required in order to move me through his cage breaking with a snap.

  Why did you stop? You are running out of time. The rare panic in Ovailia’s voice surprised me, but I didn’t let it show. I looked toward the rooftop, toward the building where a faint popping noise of another stutter had resonated from.

  Ilyan.

  And I was sure, knowing them, Joclyn would be with him.

  I had never been able to track her magic.

  It was too pure, too close to my own. Besides, she was learning to master it faster than I could figure out how to block her, even though she had no idea that was what was happening. To her, it seemed like everything was broken, not that everything was starting to work properly.

  That was probably thanks to my own interference, but we didn’t need to let her in on that little tidbit.

  “Hello, daughter,” I whispered, a grin spreading over my face.

  I knew Ovailia would be mad. Even if I tried to alert her to what had happened, she wouldn’t be able to hear. It didn’t matter. It was only a matter of time before they saw me, before they saw the man in the cloak in person.

  It was sooner than I had planned for Joclyn’s nightmares to come true, but it would have to do. I had been preparing for this for far too long to let the perfect opportunity go to waste.

  It would appear I had another game to play.

  You need to keep moving.

  I fought the irritation at her oh-so-obvious statement, hating how right she was.

  Nový židovský hřbitov. The old Jewish cemetery. Perfect.

  He would follow me there, but I knew it well enough that he would never catch me. See me, yes, but not reach me. Besides, what was more haunting than an apparition amongst tombstones?

  Moving through the stutter, I kept my eyes wide, ready to begin running the second I reappeared in the old graveyard. The lines of past and present moved through the darkness I traveled in, the colors bright against my vision before they left me staring at the red world again.

  Darting through the old, broken tombstones, my heart thundered in eager anticipation, shoulders tense, everything in me trained on the silence, waiting for the faint pop of magic to signal the chase had begun.

  As I ducked behind a large mausoleum, the same pop boomed in my ears. Then there was a low grunt of pressure as someone fell to the ground.

  Wonderful.

  They were here.

  Now I needed them to see me, to see the cloak, to have Joclyn feel my magic. It was something that should be concerning since she was my daughter and should know the signal of my magic. But she didn’t know me.

  Even with my magic fully charged and broadcasting, she would never know it was me. Even as her father, she would have no idea. She had never felt the full magic of the Drak before.

  No one had. I was the only one who possessed it, after all.

  But soon, everyone would feel it. Everyone would know what Draks were fully capable of.

  Darting from behind the large, cement building, I ran between two smaller tombstones, attempting to give them the best possible shot of me, trying not to laugh as the gasp of fear and surprise hit my ears. I was grateful for the large headstone in front me, the massive thing perfectly placed to dodge the single stream of violent magic fired my way.

  Swearing loudly, I plastered myself to the back of the massive pillar, gasping for air as my heart raced. I hadn’t counted on that. They were closer, more aggressive than I had thought.

  I needed to be more careful.

  It was a shame, really, that I could not control her magic right then, that I was not able to trigger another broken sight within her mind. It would be enough to send her reeling. However, my magic was too focused on the task at hand. Besides, connecting to her now, letting her feel my magic from a different side could be dangerous.

  The soft crunch of dying grass bounced off the forest of stones, their steps slow as they approached me. The heavy pulse of my heart seemed comical against the snails they were.

  I didn’t dare move out from behind the monument, certain they would hear my heart race if they got much closer.

  Too bad I didn’t have a choice.

  Last one.

  It was all she needed to say. The last jumping point was always the same. It had to be in order to intersect with the underground pool of magic that gave me enough power to pull through the barrier.

  Sucking in a breath, I steeled myself against what was coming, knowing I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t throw up a shield if I wanted to have enough power to make it thro
ugh the barrier. I had one shot, so I had better make it good.

  Running out from behind the old headstone, I darted between a garden of ancient statues as stream after stream of debilitating attacks were sent my way. Then, disappearing with a snap, the stutter pulled me into the long, endless street of old town, the high buildings surrounding me on all sides.

  I had run down this street a million times before, run to the same intersection, burst through the barrier unscathed. For the first time, however, I was scared.

  They were close, and they had already shown they weren’t afraid to stop me. Here, there was no cover, no alley, nothing more than a straight runway until my next stutter when I would exit the tepid confines of the dome.

  The vulnerability of it made me a sitting duck.

  At a dead run, I moved, everything tense and fearful as I tried to focus. The dread increased tenfold at the sight of the long, blond mane of a man who landed right before me. It was all I could do not to scream.

  I could see his tall frame, the anger and hatred gleaming in his eyes, waiting to attack, his hair fanning around his powerful build. He looked right at me, but I knew he couldn’t see me, not with the hood shadowing my face, not with the darkness and shadow that surrounded us.

  The glow of power sped from his hand in a brilliant purple flame that would incapacitate me if it had time to make contact.

  I never even saw it leave his hand before the faint pop of the stutter surrounded me, sending me out of that space and into a field that had been a farm, but there, in the dead of winter, it was little more than endless rows of withered corn stalks. Twisted crumbs of lifeless flora swayed in the bitter winter wind that tugged at the cape that was now a necessity.

  My heaving breath flowed before me in millions of specs of white ice, the yellow sun and blue sky hovering above like crude shapes in a child’s drawing.

  The other side of the barrier.

  Try as others might, only I could move through it … Or rather, only I had the power needed to do it. However, I let Ovailia and Edmund think the move was made possible by their connection, by the control they had over me.

  Another simple lie, ripe with benefits.

  “Hello, Sain,” Her voice was the distorted silk it had always been, the sound of seduction and pleasure and gain. So fake, so forced. I had heard her true nature a few times before, and I would always prefer it to this. She seemed to think whatever she was putting into this façade was an asset; however, she was all acid and vice, everything about her coated with so much malice any lust she tried to conjure was cracked.

  It still affected me the same way, though, perhaps because I had been with her. Perhaps it was because we were both hiding a deep strain of malevolence no one else understood.

  A perfect match, which made the fact that my magic was trying to pull into hers more irritating.

  She moved toward me slowly, her gaze never leaving mine as her ridiculous heels crunched into the dead undergrowth in loud snaps. Her eyes were dark orbs of plum blue as she leaned closer, running her finger over my lips, and my heart tensed in confusion and irritation at the gentle touch.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.” Her finger didn’t leave my face, her magic continuing to wind around me like some poisonous snake that I could tell neither wanted me nor wanted to let me go.

  “Hello, Ovi.” I kept my voice low and fearful, back to the cowering role she knew. The façade was fueled by the bitter cold, the chill of the air a biting pressure against my lungs.

  I inhaled, savoring the sting of the icy wind as it moved over my skin, tugging at the cloak, at my hair, and taking any hope of warmth away from me.

  “Why did you stop?” she snarled, the calm of my greeting unheard as she moved ever closer, her hand wrapping around my neck in a violent warning.

  I shook underneath the touch, but not for the reason she would assume.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” I cowered, letting my voice warble as I fought against the strong waves of pride that rippled through me at her accusation.

  She turned away at my denial, her hair swinging over the pristine white of her fur coat like a flurry of snow. White against silver. It was beautiful.

  I would give her that; her beauty was still hard to resist.

  Something foreign swirled through me as I stood, lost in thought, while two of her guards appeared from the air around us, flanking me so close that, for a moment, I was truly afraid they were going to take me to Edmund. I didn’t need that, not yet.

  I wasn’t ready for that yet. I still needed Ryland’s blade. I still needed Thom.

  “You stopped moving. You almost severed the magic—”

  “I was being followed.”

  Her eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments before they widened in shock.

  “Ilyan.” It wasn’t a question, though it probably should have been. He wasn’t the only one who could stutter anymore, but she didn’t seem to care, even though I knew that she, too, possessed the ability. “And the girl?”

  I nodded, Ovailia’s shock leaching back into disgust as a loud hiss slipped past her lips.

  She turned away from me in anger, her hair fanning around her like a blizzard.

  “How did they find you? You told us that your sight is clean.” Her voice traveled on the bitter wind, moving through me.

  I shivered, letting the weak movement move through me like a wave. “You know how he found me. That girl can track magic better than most Vilỳs,” I snapped, regretting the outburst the moment Ovailia turned back to me, her eyes dark in warning.

  The guards increased their holds at her look, hands digging into my arms as they held me in place. I grimaced at the pain, at the pressure.

  None of them cared.

  “Did he see you?”

  “Not that I could tell.”

  Ovailia studied me for a moment, obviously skeptical, before she narrowed her eyes. Her hand drifted to the side as she dismissed the guards, the burly Trpaslíks fading back into nothing as they pulled their shields around them.

  “So you are still good for something, I take it.” Her voice was a poisonous reptile, the look in her eyes ready to attack.

  Before I could get a chance to answer, the look changed, her eyes drifting in and out of focus until they were a million miles away, the anger falling from her face to be replaced by a deep understanding that scared me.

  I knew that look. I knew that movement. It had happened to me enough over my life and even more in the last few days. She had received her instructions from Edmund.

  I couldn’t help the odd mix of eagerness and fear that took over my body. The idea of playing the game was hauntingly desirable.

  “What does he want of me?”

  Ovailia smiled at the depth of my knowledge, her hand lifting as she brushed the back of it against the bare skin of my jawbone, her fingers running through my beard in a touch so soft I couldn’t help the shiver that jerked through me.

  Our magic connected, the skin contact giving the power free range to move between us, to try to connect. It was something that, by the look in her eyes, she enjoyed.

  “What do you want of me?” I couldn’t help the question. I couldn’t help the low grumble of my voice, the twisting of my stomach making a powerful play.

  She smiled more, her eyes dancing as her magic continued to penetrate, and the chill of the wintry breeze became a distant memory as the warmth of her hand heated my insides like a hot water bottle.

  “I want the same thing my father wants.” The honey of her voice melted into me, despite knowing what was coming. “Information.”

  My magic attempted to curl back into me in disappointment, but I kept it there, inside of her, a strong force as magic and souls danced in a tango that could never be completed.

  “Haven’t I given you enough?”

  “There is always more.”

  This time, it was my turn to smile.

  She was right. There was always more, so
much more than even she could ever understand.

  I had been playing this game for centuries before she was even conceived. Her birth and our bonding had played perfectly into my web as everything else had.

  She leaned into me, her breath hot on my lips as the depth of her blue eyes attempted to swallow me whole, and my gut twisted at the whispers of the connection I was still fighting.

  “Give me more.” Her request was a whisper, a flutter of heat over my lips, a twist of pleasure against my heart. I was sure anyone else would have caved.

  I knew that was what she wanted.

  I wasn’t as weak-willed as she assumed me to be. She didn’t know me well enough to recognize the difference.

  She knew what I let her see, and what I let her see now was the reaction she had expected of the person she thought she knew: the buckle, the giving in, the whimpering plaything she could mold. But it wasn’t who I was, not really.

  “Anything.” The word was more a moan than an agreement as it leaked from me.

  She smiled, and thankfully, I was able to keep mine restrained this time.

  “We need to know more of Joclyn’s magic, specifically her sight: how it works, how it connects to Ilyan, or even if it does.” The honey slipped from her voice as Edmund’s instructions rattled through the air.

  The warmth that had settled in my stomach disappeared into vapor as the air became lead.

  Of course it had to be Joclyn’s power.

  It was no secret Joclyn was insanely powerful, and I knew from the beginning that Edmund would want her power for himself. I had hoped he would see more use for her dead—as I had intended—but that was obviously not the case.

  But this information, this tiny bit of knowledge, was mine. I needed it. The way their magic worked, the way their souls had connected was a key piece to how I was going to destroy Ilyan’s regality. It didn’t take much to know that, if Edmund knew how their magic connected, he would use it in the same way I intended. I couldn’t let that happen.