Ash Fallen Page 10

  “You really want to know?” he challenged. His tone held a warning that she might get more than she bargained for.

  “I think I’ve earned the right to know.”

  “Your people are at odds with Castle Druin, so I assume you’ve heard of their leader, Zebadiah.”

  “Lord Zebadiah?”

  “A lord by his own making,” Ash said, eyes burning with anger. “He keeps a Receptor in his employ – a woman by the name of Siranya. She can weed out anyone with a special power simply by being in the same room with them. Zebadiah wants full control and is threatened by anyone who might be more powerful than him. He’s attacking smaller cities, reviving the purity crusades; only he’s collecting variants instead of killing them.”

  “But what about the Coopetition Treaty?”

  “That bogus peace treaty between the townships? Lord Zebadiah only signed that thing to buy himself more time. While everyone is busy patting themselves on the back for finally negotiating peace, Lord Zebadiah is building his arsenal. And his army.”

  “But why hasn’t anyone tried to stop him? There hasn’t been any news of these attacks.”

  “He doesn’t leave any witnesses.” Ash paused, allowing Rosalie to feel the weight of his words, then continued. “He invades villages, wipes out everyone without a power, and takes the variants as his prisoners. He justifies his kills by claiming it’s punishment for housing society’s un-pure.”

  The color drained from Rosalie’s face. “How do you know this isn’t just a terrible rumor? Who could be capable of something so horrible?”

  “I’ve seen first-hand what Lord Zebadiah is capable of.” He drew in a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly. “He killed my mother to try and get to me.”

  Ash’s confession was more than her heart could bear. She took a seat on the bed, eyes wide with shock. “Ash, I’m so sorry.”

  “It happened a long time ago,” he said. But Rosalie could tell it was a wound that hadn’t healed; would probably never heal.

  “What does he want with the variants?”

  “To use them to make his army stronger, if they’ll join him. But our information suggests that, if they refuse…” He stopped short of completing his thought.

  “What? What happens if they refuse?”

  Ash considered sugar-coating it, but he also wanted her to understand. “Our intel suggests those who refuse to join him are kept in cages in a lab. He studies them, takes involuntary blood and tissue samples, even goes so far as to…” He took a breath.

  “To what?” she asked impatiently.

  “To experiment on them like animals,” he blurted out indelicately. “He’s trying to create a being with ultimate powers.”

  Rosalie’s stomach churned at the thought of entire villages being slaughtered and people like her being treated as lab rats.

  “That’s why we go into the villages first. Our hope is that if the village doesn’t harbor any variants, that Zebadiah and his army will leave the people alone.”

  Rosalie felt terrible for the loss Ash had endured. But she was also a firm believer that being wronged didn’t justify wrong behavior.

  “Admit it, you also want to use those powers for your benefit.”

  “For the benefit of everyone,” Ash corrected. “Our mission is to destroy Zebadiah and all his followers. Our army is undersized. We need all the help we can get.”

  Rosalie felt rocked as she tried to take it all in.

  Ash continued. “Our plan isn’t to kill anyone. In fact, my men call themselves the Liberation Alliance. We’re trying to protect as many as we can, but we’re also trying to win a war here.”

  “You should be open about your plans.” What she didn’t tell him, was she wanted him to be more open with her. It stung to realize how little he confided in her.

  He was silent as he contemplated her last statement. “We have a Discerner in our group,” he finally said. “He’s able to both see and analyze several versions of the future. His visions indicate mostly negative consequences if we reveal too much of our plan too early. There are misunderstandings. Information leaks.”

  “You should have told me,” she clarified. Her throat felt tight and her voice shook with emotion.

  “I was trying to protect you from the truth.”

  “What truth? That instead of being your prisoner, I would have been someone else’s?” It was below the belt, and she knew it. But she was angry for being kept in the dark.

  “And how does knowing all of this help now? Does it make it more palatable to be with the likes of me?”

  Waves of guilt and sadness hit her at once. She felt shame for the words she’d spoken in anger, but that didn’t negate his actions or lack of openness. Uncertain how to respond, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat in stony silence.

  Ash sighed deeply. He knelt beside the bed and took her hands in his. “Roe, there are specific reasons I couldn’t tell you.”

  His words wounded her and she wondered if she’d misjudged their relationship. She leaned in closer, choosing her words carefully and trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Ash, what are you still not telling me?”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her. It wouldn’t bear fruit – only fear and resentment. He couldn’t let her know about all the times Marx shared his visions of Rosalie’s death; and that despite his visions, Ash had taken her from Mabel Village anyway. There was no good way to tell her that, no matter how he tried to change things, or how hard he tried to protect her, the Discerner repeatedly witnessed her demise.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Who are we going to meet again?” Rosalie was doing her best to keep up with Ash’s long strides. She smiled to herself. Although she knew there were still things he hadn’t shared, and was confused where they were headed, she was grateful he was including her in more of his plans.

  “Jrynton. A recent recruit but I knew him a bit when we were younger. He’s a Gifter.”

  “Ooh,” she said, awestruck. “I’ve heard of those. They have no other power except to amplify the gifts of others around them. Such a selfless power. I’ve heard it said Gifters have the purest souls.”

  “Uh huh,” Ash nodded, hiding a smirk as he knocked on the Gifter’s door.

  “Fike and fire,” a man shouted from the other side of the door. A string of curse words followed before a middle-aged, blonde man opened the door, towering above Rosalie and Ash. He stood about seven feet tall and glared down at the pair with his coal black eyes. “What in the name of Helstice do you want?”

  “Purest of souls?” Ash teased, looking at Rosalie. Then he turned to the man and said, “Good to see you, Jrynton.”

  “You look old,” Jrynton told him. Then his handsome face split into a wide grin. He pulled Ash in for a bear hug, slapping him hard on the back. “Come in. Come in.”

  “So, you’re a Mender and a Soother, huh?” he asked, addressing Rosalie.

  She smiled and cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  The man took her hand in his, pumping it vigorously. “It’s nice to meet you.” He raised an eyebrow and gave her a sideways look. “But not a Healer, eh?”

  “Afraid not.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Hmm, curious.”

  “Why?” Ash asked.

  Jrynton paused, as if he wanted to say something, but chose not to. “No reason. Let’s see what we can do with the powers you do have, eh?”

  Rosalie smiled. “I’m ready.”

  “First I want to see what you’ve got. Do we have someone we can experiment on?” He asked the question of Ash.

  “I can probably find someone.” Ash hesitated, his eyes darting towards the door, then back at Jrynton, who was staring intently at Rosalie.

  “Relax, I’ll behave myself,” Jrynton teased.

  Rosalie blushed, but not as deeply as Ash. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

  “Sure you weren’t.”

  “I’ll go find someone. Try to be the pure
soul Rosalie thought you were before she met you.”

  Rosalie rolled her eyes and Jrynton let out a hearty chuckle.

  When Ash returned, he brought two men with him. “Kyron has an injured collarbone. And Spencer here got his foot stepped on by one of the horses.”

  Rosalie looked from Kyron to Spencer, then to Ash. “Going easy on me, huh?” she winked.

  “Let’s begin,” Jrynton said.

  Rosalie stroked Kyron’s collarbone and began her mending and soothing routine. As she worked, Jrynton stood beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Concentrate,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  She closed her eyes and felt an unusual surge of power. Her fingertips tingled. It was a warming sensation.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged.

  She continued to caress the injury, humming softly to herself without realizing it. She could feel the warmth from her fingers transfer to Kyron’s skin, relieving his tension. The Gifter gave her shoulder another squeeze, and once again she felt a surge of power. She murmured a soothing chant as she swept her hand across Kyron’s collarbone one final time. When she felt his pain subside, she opened her eyes and took a step back.

  “That feels amazing,” Kyron said. He rotated his shoulder and pressed his fingertips into his collarbone. “I don’t feel any pain.”

  “You’ll want to take it easy for a bit,” Rosalie warned. “My powers make it feel better than it actually is. As a reminder, I’m not a Healer.”

  Kyron nodded.

  For reasons that escaped the others, Jrynton smirked. Then, recovering quickly, he turned to Spencer. “Let’s take a look at that foot next, shall we?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rosalie knew Jrynton was helping the variants of the Liberation Alliance hone their powers, but she was surprised when she saw him talking to Talon from across the courtyard. Talon’s face was drawn in concentration and he appeared to be focusing hard on whatever instruction Jrynton was providing. When Talon looked her way, she quickly averted her eyes and hurried in the opposite direction.

  “Has Talon decided to join you?” she asked Ash later that day.

  He flinched. It was the first time since Talon betrayed her that he’d heard Rosalie mention his name. It bothered him somehow. “We selected some of the stronger recruits to start training for combat. Only if they agreed, of course. But once we revealed our plans to take down Lord Zebadiah, most wanted to be a part of it. Talon volunteered. Stryker’s training him in combat. Jrynton’s training him to strengthen his powers.”

  The news took Rosalie by surprise. Not that Talon was asked to fight, but that he agreed. “I think I’d like to talk to him and try and mend things between us.”

  “Why? What do you see in that guy? He seems like such a weasel.”

  “He’s my friend,” she defended.

  “He betrayed you.” Ash’s eyes flashed in anger and his jaw tightened.

  “I owe him.” Subconsciously she touched her hand to her shoulder blade and traced her scar with her fingertips.

  Ash nodded, softening. He thought he finally understood. “I’ll arrange it.”

  Rosalie felt a surge of happiness at seeing her old friend again. She’d missed him more than she’d realized. “How have you been?”

  “As good as can be expected.” His response was guarded.

  She nodded and her throat tightened. It was the first time she could recall things being awkward between them. It made her heart hurt. “Look Talon, I’m really sorry. I understand why you did what you did.”

  “Stop,” he broke in. “There’s no excuse for what I did. You don’t know how much I hate myself for it.” His soft, brown eyes misted, making him look vulnerable.

  “Let’s both agree to forget it, how about that?”

  He grinned. “I’ve missed you, Roe. How have you been, really?”

  She took a breath. “Conflicted, to be honest. But good.”

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  She paused.

  “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

  “I do,” she admitted without further hesitation.

  Talon nodded. He didn’t pass judgement. “Want to hear something strange?”

  “What?”

  “I love what I’m doing here – training for the Liberation Alliance. Once Stryker explained the cause to me, I knew I wanted to be a part of it.”

  “That’s great, Talon.” Her voice hitched. She was happy for him, but she felt sad. Worried. For all of them. She remembered her nightmare; remembered watching Talon die.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he told her. “We’re the good guys. We’ll prevail.”

  She nodded again and smiled. But inside, she wasn’t so sure. They still invaded villages; took people against their will. Did the end justify the means? For her the question remained: were they the good guys?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The ambush of the Liberation Alliance base camp came out of nowhere. No one could have predicted it, not even Marx. The attack took place before the dawn broke – which meant most of the men in the camp were unarmed; many still asleep. The invaders were dishonorable but inexperienced, seeking only to loot the camp and run away with its spoils. After the initial surprise, the trained Alliance overpowered the disorganized bandits, but not before injuries were suffered on both sides.

  The front office was converted into a makeshift infirmary. Rosalie offered her soothing and mending powers to the mild and moderately injured. She left the more serious cases to the trained medics. Those injuries were beyond her skills.

  She was tending to a man with superficial cuts on his hands and forearms when another man ran up to her, hollering and flailing his arms.

  “Slow down, take a breath,” Rosalie told him. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

  The man took a deep breath and spoke slowly – but his tone remained elevated. “Stryker asked for you right away.”

  Doing her best to keep up, Rosalie followed him as he sprinted towards the outer courtyard. She repeatedly murmured a short prayer to the gods that Ash was okay. When she rounded the corner to the stables, she was relieved, then horrified, to find it was Stryker’s brother, Dillinger, lying on the ground. When she got closer, she could see he was bleeding heavily from a gaping wound in his abdomen.

  Stryker was kneeling beside his brother, doing his best to stop the blood flow with the pressure of his hands. Ash and Jrynton were standing close by, looking helpless. When Rosalie approached, Stryker looked up at her and shot her a pleading look. His tone and expression seemed to say, while he never believed she belonged there, at this moment he was begging her to prove him wrong.

  “You’re a Healer,” he cried out in desperation. “Do something.”

  “I’m a Soother and a Mender,” Rosalie corrected him. “I can sooth the mind into thinking there isn’t any pain. I can also speed up the body’s natural mending process. But I can’t heal. If wounds are fatal, there’s nothing I can do but sooth the pain until the inevitable happens.”

  “So, you can’t save him?” Ash asked. He stepped towards her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  Filled with sadness and regret, she said, “I’m afraid not.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Stryker hissed, jumping to his feet and taking a step towards her. His eyes grew dark and his self-control wavered, his blood-soaked hands fisting at his sides.

  Ash stepped in between them. “She isn’t lying.”

  “And how would you know?” Stryker shrieked. His tone oozed with anger and fear. “She’s got you so twisted up inside, you don’t know if you’re coming or going.”

  Ash channeled his patience. It angered him that Stryker thought Rosalie made him weak. “I’ve seen her powers, Stryker. She’s not a Healer.”

  Jrynton interrupted, speaking calmly. “Rosalie, sweetheart, why don’t you give it a try?”

  “It’s not fair to put that sort of pressure on h
er,” Ash argued.

  “I’ll try,” Rosalie spoke up. When the three men stared back at her, she said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Roe, you don’t have to…” Ash began, but she ignored him.

  She sank to her knees next to Dillinger. Jrynton placed a firm hand on her shoulder, encouraging her. “I’ll help you,” he said.

  She looked up at him, nodded, then returned her attention to Dillinger. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. She wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned in, speaking softly into his ear. “Neme lasomin, talikent – amnabe.”

  Dillinger moaned in pain. “What kind of sorcery are you trying to pull?” Stryker barked.

  “Let her work,” Ash and Jrynton said in unison.

  Disregarding all of them, Rosalie concentrated on her patient. Her great-grandmother had been a Healer, and it was rumored the genetic anomaly could lay dormant for generations. But Rosalie had never tried to channel or hone the powers of a Healer. Far too many had been persecuted for such powers. When she was old enough, she’d learned her own great-grandmother had been burned as a witch – by some of the very townsfolk she’d healed. People were frightened of what they didn’t understand.

  She worried Ash might think differently of her if she wielded all she might be capable of. But she couldn’t think of that now. She could only think of saving the man who lay bleeding and dying in front of her.

  “Neme lasomin, talikent – amnabe,” she repeated. She pressed her hands over the wound and closed her eyes in deep concentration. She felt a slow burn. It started in her fingertips and spread to her hands. As she continued her caress, chanting all the while, the burning sensation intensified until she felt like her hands were on fire. The heat crept to her wrists and up her arms. The man beneath her groaned.

  “She’s killing him,” Stryker growled. He paced, wringing his hands.

  “She’s doing great,” Jrynton said.

  Ash remained silent, taking it all in. A silent war raged inside him. Should he stop her?