pdf - From the Ashes.PDF (10 page)

At the cusp of the crater, Cilia watched as a current of dry ash churned and broke in waves against the hard rock ledge. The depths of dry dust seethed and twisted, giving the substance its name, the Living Ash. It was where old ones came to die and where life was celebrated anew, but Harailt didn’t know that.

She glimpsed Fiach, who eyed the mixture longingly. His weigh shifted as though he were tempted to dip his toe, as though the ash were water where he longed to swim. She sent him a gentle reminder.
Not yet.

He shook his head to clear it. The small band of Morag surrounded them. All wore eager expressions, ready to press them over the ledge and into the pit. Cilia and Fiach did their best to appear impassive as Harailt leveled a gold tipped spear to her heart and snarled at Fiach.

“Jump.” Harailt commanded him into the rippling sea of dust.

Fiach sent her the mental equivalent of a wink before he sprang high, leapt into the swirling mixture, and disintegrated. His body was now indistinguishable from all the other contents whirling in the earthen pool.

Harailt watched the ash consume Fiach’s flesh and absorb his body. Harailt’s eyes twinkled, lit with a fevered glow. He turned his attention to Cilia and pressed the blade a little deeper. “How does it feel to know you are the last Phoenix?”

“It feels fitting that what you started so long ago will be finished here. Now.” She stepped backwards off the lip of clay and joined her mate.

She burst into millions of tiny particles, each no larger than a grain of sand. It was like being tossed into a surging tide of smoldering energy. Other particles bounced into her in greeting. A few, no doubt belonging to Fiach, rubbed a little closer than was polite.

Now that she was a part of the flowing ebb, what had been dull gray ash seemed to expand its lungs as fire roared over the top of the surface licking up the walls of hard clay to where Harailt stood.

Cilia moved her consciousness to the edge closest to him. Close enough to hear him cry out, “It cannot be. They are all dead.”

She used that moment of disbelief to concentrate her energy. She did as she was born to do. She called forth her people, who had lain in slumber awaiting the return of their
Neir
. Snaps and pops filled the air as plumes of flame in every color filled the sky. She waited until the earthen bowl was empty except for those of a particularly friendly collection of particles that nestled closer to her own.

She focused her energy. Power sizzled along her skin as her body reformed and became whole. All around stood beings in every shape and size, every shade and shimmer imagined. Some were all flame. Some held the more human bodies that she and Fiach inhabited, but all were whole and fresh from their rebirth. The hot smell of crisp cinnamon filled the air.

Cilia dusted the fine gray powder from her nude limbs. Fiach stepped to her side and took her hand. The low hum of his power vibrated up her arm as he clothed them both.

For once, he had shied away from his favored flowing dresses and given her matching leather pants and a tight black t-shirt. She looked at Fiach, who tried to smother his amusement. They could have been twins. She personally thought he looked much better in the ensemble, but if nothing else, the clothes were practical.

The league of eager demons turned in the face of the flight of Phoenix and scurried towards the edge of Lielos. If they could be stopped before reaching the borders into Faerie, they would be helpless except for the crude weapons they carried. Their demon magic could not aid them now.

Cilia spread her arms wide. Her head fell back, lips parted, as a piercing battle cry was ripped from her throat. The gathering of Phoenix, the peaceful light bringers, leapt for the sky and became living flame. The blur of colors and rush of heat swept over Cilia as she lowered her arms, and the sky ignited with Phoenix descending upon the fleeing army.

Guttural growls and bass rumbles resounded as the demons were overtaken. Their black sticky blood seeped into the parched soil and pooled in the cracks. The air was filled with the high-pitched cries of the Phoenix and the searing heat of their fires consuming the horde and cremating the fallen bodies.

Harailt stood on the fringe of the battle, too engrossed by the dance of multihued flames to notice his army falling around him. His eyes shone with longing and something Cilia thought might be akin to lust. He turned to address Cilia and Fiach where they stood. “This will never be over.”

“This is already over.”

Harailt turned a slow circle and blinked his eyes, seeming to notice his fallen army for the first time. His hand entered into his robe, but before the blade slipped free of its scabbard, Fiach had called forth his fire. Harailt smiled as flame roared down the length of Fiach’s arm and a sphere of heat pulsed from his hand. The fireball met its target, and Harailt dropped to his knees as he was consumed by the scorching blast that streamed steadily from Fiach’s palm.

Harailt’s face contorted as his flesh was eaten away and his bones were turned to ash.

Fiach’s arm dropped to his side, his face flushed from the exertion. Cilia came to his side and gripped his hand between hers. She lowered a kiss to the center knuckle. “You saved me.”

“I killed him.”

“Fiach…”

He laid his hot palm across her cheek. “I wanted to for so long. I never imagined he would give me such an easy excuse for doing it.” He looked down on the ashy remains.

“He will never cause our people to suffer again.”

Fiach dropped her hands and went to kneel at his counterfeit father’s ashes. He called a metal beaker to appear in his palm and worked to collect the ashes and put them in the container. Cilia dropped to the ground and helped to scoop the remains into the makeshift urn.

As Fiach twisted the lid shut, he answered the unasked question, the curiosity that he would treat the ash with anything resembling respect.

“The Lady deserves to know he’s not coming back for her.”

All around them fiery beings blazed onto the ground beside them. It was as it should be. The light bringers were freed.

Fiach bowed low to the Lady. She tipped her head regally and appraised his offering with interest.

“We would offer the remains of the demon lord Harailt to our Lady.” Fiach extended the urn towards her. She gripped the container uncertainly, as if she distrusted the contents.

“All these years, all this misery reduced to dust.” She passed the urn to a woman standing to her side. “My court owes you a debt of gratitude.”

Cilia interrupted. “We are more than even. You saved us before you had any reason to believe you could be saved yourself. Let us part on equal footing.”

“I accept, and I hope you will allow me to extend my hospitality again in the near future.”

Cilia worried her lip. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you grant permission for some of our people to settle in Faerie?”

The Lady’s face shined brilliantly. “I would like that. It has been a long time since we have had Phoenix here. I thank you for the gift of your trust.”

Cilia and Fiach bowed respectfully and turned to leave. Cayden blocked their path.

His eyes were red rimmed, and his frame was leaner than she remembered. The healthy glow of youth was gone. His eyes were hollowed and empty as they strived to focus over Cilia’s shoulder.

“Cayden, are you all right?”

His eyes blinked rapidly as he looked around; he seemed confused to find himself where he was. The lost look on his face was disconcerting. He cleared his throat and struggled to find his manners.

“My lord and lady.” He bowed. “Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten myself.”

Fiach’s harsh intake of breath drew Celia’s attention to him. “Fiach, do you know something about this?”

“He is the mate to a Phoenix.”

“But who? How is it possible?”

“Look at his aura.”

Instead of the lively green flow of energy that had ensconced him on their earlier meeting, a slow black pulse seeped from around him. The taint crawled over his skin, and the area around his heart was covered by a swirling void, as if the blackened mass fed from there.

Fiach paled. “His suit has been refused.”

Cayden flinched when he heard the words spoken. They must have been the final blows to his pride because his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the floor. None of the Phoenix dared to touch him. Instead, they waited on the Sidhe to rush to Cayden’s side. Rois shoved through the crowd and pushed until she was part of the inner circle. She dropped to the floor and angled his head onto her lap; she lovingly caressed his cheek then looked up at Cilia desperately.

“What can I do?” Rois pleaded.

The answer was simple. “Nothing.”

“He is my son, is there nothing you can do?”

Cilia deferred to Fiach. He shook his head and answered Rois.

“We could sever the tie to his mate. If we do that, neither will be whole again.”

Rois looked at him, clinging desperately to the small hope that he had handed her.

“Do it,” she commanded.

“Your son will not be the same as he was without her.”

“You said yourself she rejected him. He will die without your help.”

Cilia’s pathway hummed as she spoke with Fiach mind to mind.
She’s right. He’ll
die rather than live without her.

I know.

I don’t want to do this.

You’re the only one who can. This will grant him the chance to love another day.

Do you really believe that?

I believe no force on earth or in heaven could have kept me from you.

Cilia closed her eyes.
I hope he will forgive me for this.

Fiach squeezed her shoulder gently for support. He offered no words either way, because they both knew what she was about to do was wrong. It went against the order of things, but it was also the only way to keep Cayden alive.

Rois’s sobbing broke through their quiet communications. It was unseemly for a Sidhe to lose face in such a manner. Cilia extended her palm to rest over the cool fabric that covered Cayden’s heart. She used her power as
Neir
, and called the essence of Phoenix from his limp body. When the scalding heat rushed up her arm, she hissed in pain. Fiach rubbed the sting away and watched as Cayden’s eyes opened. The boy assessed the gathering of people and his place on the floor with confusion.

“This is most improper.” The words were delivered without inflection. His blank expression was the perfect reflection of his tone.

Rois hugged him to her and whispered liquid syllables of thanks in his ear. Cayden allowed himself to be coddled for a moment before breaking away to sit up. Once he was upright, he pushed off the floor to stand. Everyone watched him with interest. He shrugged his shoulders to straighten his shirt and slipped his hands into his pockets before walking off in the direction of his rooms.

“Cayden?” the question hung in the air between the mother and her son.

Cayden turned around to face Rois. The cool silver pools of his eyes were quiet and detached. “Yes, Mother?”

“Are you … that is … do you feel all right?”

He canted his head without changing his expression. “You really should work on controlling your emotions. I know raising a human child was taxing, but you can’t let that experience mar the rest of your existence.” With those parting words, he turned on his heel and left.

Rois slumped back on the ground. She wrung her hands and looked at the floor to hide her face. The Lady rose from her throne and came to Rois’s side.

“My son is gone,” she whispered.

The Lady rested a palm on her shoulder. “He is alive. The rest will work itself out.”

Rois shuddered and looked up to Fiach. “You warned me, but I did not believe it.”

She cast a glance at Cilia, but still spoke to Fiach. “You would have chosen death rather than be parted from her?”

Fiach paused. He might have tried to find a kinder way to soften the harshness of his truth, but he had lived a new life in a new body without his mate. He unknowingly had committed sins against her faith in him that left scars on his soul. “I would have, yes.”

Rois shook her head in silent agreement and rose from the floor. The Lady looped an arm through hers and guided Rois towards her private parlor, away from the shell of her offspring.

“We should leave them to mourn in peace,” he said.

Cilia agreed. They walked hand in hand through the great hall and to the edges of Faerie. The few Phoenix that they had brought over followed behind them solemnly. The weight of what had happened lay heavy on their hearts.

At the edge of Lielos, the Phoenix gathered. All but the youngest stood in pairs. As Cilia and Fiach approached, they bowed low.

A yellow plume of flame glided forward and bent a little lower than the rest. “My
Neir
and
Neiro
, much has changed in this world since we left it. What will we do?”

Cilia met the stares of all her worried subjects. “I have lived contentedly among the humans for a very long time. I plan to offer any who would come with me that same chance at happiness.” She gave a little laugh at some of their shocked expressions.

“Anyone who is more comfortable here or in Faerie may have leave to settle in these places as well. The purpose for your new lives will be yours to decide. After what you have all suffered, I only want your happiness.”

After a nervous pause, the Phoenix divided themselves into thirds, one-third for each plane. The couples wishing to stay in Lielos banded together and waited. Most were of the oldest families, too long away from home for comfort and too set in their ways to desire any new adventure. They would be fitting guardians for the Living Ash in Cilia and Fiach’s absence.

“Thank you friends for your faithful service. Enjoy your freedom.” The group dispersed, each seeking their ancestral homes to begin the long process of rebuilding.

A young woman, whose purple aura was coiled with the black swirls of misery, caught her attention. Enveloped by the crowd, she disappeared from sight, and Cilia turned her attention back to her remaining subjects.