From The Ashes (17 page)

Out in the courtyard, someone cried out, "Torians!"

She winced.
 
Above them, someone was overturning chairs, ransacking the cabinets and dropping dishes and utensils to the ground.

Shao-Bao let out a gasp.

She covered his mouth.
 
Held up a finger.

The crashing of furniture and items being kicked aside onto the floor grew closer.
 
Louder.

Then, the worst thing that could have
happened,
did.

The door hinges above them squealed.
 
Where was Bai Juang?

The door to the hidden room flung open.

Myanwu and her son screamed, their eyes squeezed shut.

"Where is it?"
 
Bai Juang said, his eyes round with panic."

"What?

"Where is my
sword!
"

CHAPTER SIX

“Come out."
 
Affecting all the courage she could, Ahndien grasped the hilt of her father's sword tighter still.
 
"Show yourself...and...
and
I won't hurt you."

The rustling in the bush stopped.
 
Curiosity overtook caution and Ahndien stepped forward, ready to strike, though Father's sword felt a bit too heavy to swing with any effect.
 
When she reached the place from which the rustling sounds came, she took a deep breath, held it, and with her foot, pushed away some of the branches.

"Please," she whispered.
 
"Answer me."
 
Father had warned her not to wander off to the top of the hill.
 
There are vicious mountain lions that devour little children, he had always said.
 
Her heart beat like the festival drums of the New Year, yet fear had not seized her.
 
Not entirely.

She pulled the branches aside. "Aha!"

Just then, a small man, slightly hunched in the back and wearing the white garb of a monk, turned around and gasped.
 
"Ai!"
 
He lifted his walking stick as if to strike.
 
But when he saw Ahndien's face, he lowered it. "What do you mean, startling an old man like that?
 
Why, I might have..." he coughed, sputtered,
pounded
his chest.
 
"I might have
mistook
you for... for a bandit!"

"I'm sorry," she said and rushed to his side.
 
"You didn't answer."

"Eh?"

"You didn't answer me when—"

"Eh?" he turned his head.
 
"Speak into this ear, my child.
 
The hearing's not what it once was."

"Never mind."
 
She helped the old man out into the clearing where she had set her things down.
 
"Have you eaten yet?"

"My food is knowledge, wisdom...and truth!"
 
From behind the white beard that stretched down to his chest, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
 
The monk bore a striking resemblance to Ah-Yeh, her grandfather who lived with her family until he passed away last winter.
 

Ahndien thought his bones would surely creak as he sat on the tree trunk and rested both hands on his cane.
 
"Was that you, playing the song of the Fenghuang?"

"Feng...what?"
 
This had always been her secret, not so much the music, but her way with the birds.
 
"I don't know what you are talking about."

 
"Of course you don't." His round belly rolled like grass jelly when he laughed.
  
"And yet, you do."

She should have felt apprehensive speaking to a stranger, alone on the mountain like this, but for some reason she did not.
 
He was too frail to be any sort of threat.
 
Perhaps it was the way he spoke, the way he laughed.
 
Just like Ah-Yeh.

"My name is Lao-Ying."
 
He leaned forward on his cane.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir," she replied.
 
"I am—"

"Ahndien, daughter of Xing Bai Juang," he said.
 
His hazel-green eyes sparkled.
 
They seemed unusually sharp for a man of his age.
 
"I have waited long to meet you."

"But how do you know me?"

Before he could answer, a strange sound rang out into the mountains from below—the sound of horns, rapid and urgent.
 
Lao-Ying arose and bounded to the edge of the hill.
 
With a hand he shielded his eyes.
 
"And so it begins."

"What is it?"

"Something that should not have happened for another ten years."

Ahndien came to his side and looked down at her village.
 
Her heart sank at the sight of the trebuchets, large monstrosities on wheels, pushed by soldiers in red vested chainmail and armor.
 
Flying high with the army's advance, a flag with the image of a crimson, winged creature stood tall on a pole.

"What are they doing?"

Lao-Ying took her elbow and tried to lead her away.
 
"Come along, child.
 
Come."

"Wait."
 
Just then, the three trebuchets stopped a good distance from the village walls.
 
She looked harder at the flag, the soldiers and realized.
 
"Are those...?"

Lao-Ying lowered his gaze and shut his eyes.
 
"Soldiers of Valdshire Tor."

"Western Demons!"

The Torian soldiers lit the cauldrons in the center of the slings and flames burst upwards.
 
In swift succession the trebuchet's massive arms swung forward, hurling the flaming projectiles at the village.

"No!" Ahndien tried to run.
 
But something restrained her with alarming force.
 
She looked down at her arm. Lao-Ying had taken hold of it.

In a low and regretful voice, he said, "It is too late."

A thunderous explosion erupted from the center of the village.
 
Cries of terror arose with plumes of fire and billowing black smoke.
 
Like a swarm of red fire ants, Torian soldiers with swords, crossbows and all manner of weaponry charged into the village.

Ahndien broke free and ran down the path.
 
Even at her best speed, the village was at least half an hour away.

"Please,"
shouted
Lao-Ying, "You mustn't!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sharp sound
of curtain rings ripping across a rod, followed by a blinding light jarred Render from his sleep.
 

"Arise!"
 
boomed
a husky voice.

Render rubbed his eyes.
 
Had Bobbington fallen ill of the throat?
 
Had he dreamt the entire thing last night?
 
But when he saw Kaine waking up in the bed across the chamber, and Folen and Stewan as well, Render knew it was not a dream.

"Up now, you den of sloths.
 
All of you!"
 
A rather large and rotund man with flaxen hair stood at the door.
 
Dressed in a brown cloak, he very much resembled one of those Malkoran scholars, illustrations of which he'd seen in the moldering books of Bobbington's library.

Folen yawned and nudged Stewan who, lying next to
him,
was still asleep.
 
"Come on, sleepy head, wake up."

"Who are you?" Kaine said to the scholar.
 
"And where are we?"

"You will address me as Sir Edwyn," he said gazing down the side of his considerable nose.
 
"And you have three minutes to clean up and change into those."
 
He pointed to the neatly folded bundles at the foot of each of their beds and then gestured to the basins and pitchers at the end tables.
 
Sir Edwyn clapped his hands, making Render wince.
 
The sound of it resounded throughout the cavernous stone walls of their chamber, which, when compared to his room in Bobbington's cottage, seemed more like a cathedral.
 
"Quickly now.
 
When I return you had best be ready."

When he shut the door, a profound echo thundered through the chamber.
 
Render looked about.
 
Smooth stone walls decorated with intricate tapestries, shimmering curtains which must have been made of exotic Eastern fabric.
 
His bare feet stood cushioned upon a thick rug of violet and blue and gold.
 
But where were the shackles?
 

"Are you certain, Render?" Stewan said.

"Of what?"

"That we've been appo…appro-pee-ated?"

"Of course we have," Render removed his shirt and splashed water over his face from the gold rimmed basin on his bedside table.
 
The other boys followed his example.
 
Then to his brother: "Haven't we?"
 

"I'm not quite so certain now, truth
be
told." Kaine dabbed his face with a towel.
 
Then with a wicked grin, he said, “I wonder if they might be preparing us for a brutal execution."

The twins gasped.
 
Their eyes grew the size of plums.

"Stop it Kaine," said Render.
 
"Must you frighten them so?"

"I'm merely saying..."
 
Kaine shrugged.
 
"I mean, who's to say we're not going to have our heads lopped off and stuck on the points of spears and marched through Talen Wood as an example to other slave boys who try to run away."

"Do stop it," Folen said.
 
"Please!"

Render agreed.
"Enough, Kaine."

But on he went.
 
"Or perhaps we'll be thrown into an arena with hungry mountain lions, and be mauled for royal sport.
 
You know, like those Sojourner zealots, ages ago.
 
That's what happened to them, you know."
 
He pointed to his spotless white shirt.
 
Render knew too well where his brother meant to go with all this.
 
When he was the twins' age and they'd steal into the wood to share stolen food, Kaine would try to frighten him with drivel as this.
 
"The blood shows much better against this pure white shirt.
 
All the better for spectators at a distance who—"

"I said, enough!"
 
Render's shout came as a surprise to all, not the least of whom, himself.
 
But it wasn't clear if it had been irritation at his brother's teasing or the actual fear it instilled.

Kaine smirked. "Well, aren't you the pickled puss?"

Render pulled his belt tight.
 
For once in his life, he wore new, clean clothes that didn't reek of sweat.
 
He smiled at the twins. "Bother him," then went over to help Stewan with a clasp on the back of his vest.
  
Fine trappings indeed for slaves.
 
"We should just do as Sir Edwyn says."
 
He turned to help Folen tie up a lace on his shoe.

"Oh yes," Kaine said.
 
"He seems nice enough, don't you think?"
 

Render didn't bother to look up when neither of them answered.
  
When he stood up and turned around, however, there at the now open door stood Sir Edwyn, a scowl etched into his brow.
 
He clapped his hands twice and motioned for the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Folen said, clinging to Render's arm.
 
"We want to go back!"

"Your
life as you have
hitherto known it..." Edwyn heaved a dour gaze upon them all, "...is over."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sir Edwyn walked before Render
, Kaine and the twins and would have appeared harmless if not for the armed guards with longswords marching beside him.

Flecks of dust floated in the morning beams of sunlight which entered through the windows above.
 
The corridor stretched eternal and turned not even once before they finally arrived at a large wooden door.
 
There, two armor clad sentries stood with pikes crossed over the entrance.
 
Above the archway hung a sculpture.
 
A pair of winged creatures—difficult to discern without staring unduly—one of them black, the other red.
 
Both of their talons clutched an auric orb.
 
With bat-like wings and scales, Render decided they must be dragons.