Page 67 of Memory of Ashes

Casyl

He had hoped to keep the girl’s powers a secret, but now the king knew. He’d see her not only as a map but also as a weapon.

He gave the order for her skill to be tested and trained to see if it could be controlled. The ability to nullify an enemy’s most powerful attack would provide a decisive advantage. Voiders existed only in myths. They were perhaps one of the few things those with abilities truly feared. Losing his power would be like losing a part of himself.

Perhaps her human nature had something to do with it.

If she were going to be taught how to control her ability, it would be prudent to train her how to use her body too. She’d never match a fae in strength, but she could make herself less vulnerable.

He was thinking of her as if she were part of his army instead of a prisoner. She was, whether she liked it or not.

Their contact was limited. Sometimes, he watched from afar as the training took place. She had improved. She was a fast learner and could now defend herself from Ruven’s advancing attacks. He followed her movements, his attention catching on the line of her jaw as it tensed with concentration. Heat bloomed beneath his armour.

Since her arrival, he’d been sent on missions to cross the border and search for where she’d entered the world. Between Eleandor’s account of where she’d been found and the king’s description of her memories, Casyl had some idea where to look, but the journey was long and dangerous.

He went alone to avoid suspicion. A solitary rider crossing the border would attract less attention than a small warband. He skirted the forest where he could, but he couldn’t avoid it completely.

She’d emerged somewhere near the base of the sacred mountain, hidden by the forest. It was not somewhere he’d ventured. No one had. The creatures kept everyone away.

Even with powers, the forest was an intimidating place. Not only were there huge Feltooths, but there were also strange humanoids such as the Leshies, whose sinewy limbs ended in razor-sharp claws and whose elongated heads bore antlers.

They were only found near the mountain, and that was enough to keep the fae away.

Entering the forest, he crept through the maze of trees until the bottom of the mountain became visible. He’d never been this far in. The hum of power vibrating from the mountain pricked at his skin as he followed it, searching for the small caves and crevices that could have been her entrance, but he found none.

Stalking back through the forest, he could not shake the feeling of being watched. His skin tingled at the shriek in the distance that echoed off the mountain.

It was time to go. He was relieved when he finally saw the opening in the trees.

Travelling back through the wild grasslands, he skirted the border until the terrain forced him onto the dirt path leading to the High City, weaving into the forest to avoid people when necessary. With their refusal to return the human prisoner, war was guaranteed. He needed to gather intel on their army.

Under the guise of a peddler, he followed the roads into enemy territory as they snaked through mountains until they brought him to the crest of a hill looking down upon the city.

With his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hat pulled low, he concealed the protruding antlers that would instantly betray his disguise.

The fae of the High City hadn’t been cursed.

Where Casyl’s kingdom was harsh and lifeless, the High City flourished, surrounded by greenery, secured by the safety of the surrounding mountains. Another reason to resent them. No matter what he did, he’d still be the son of the god-cursed king.

The city had been built inside an ancient crater, its walls carved directly from the mountain.

The holy priests said it was blessed as the bowl of the gods. They had spent centuries carving the rock and building upon it.

He descended the hill towards the city with his wares of carved wooden spoons packed on his mount. If ever searched, they’d raise no suspicion. It was a guise he’d taken on many times over the years. His contacts in the city could provide him with shelter.

He needed to find out what they were planning.

He dismounted and led his horse through the streets. It was afternoon, and the streets were busy with markets and people going about their lives. Women walked around freely here. It was such a stark contrast to life at the fort.

As he passed the fountains and gardens, the royal towers rose in the middle of the city, almost reaching the clouds.

Two guards walked out of a shop in front of him. He kept his head down and passed them.

His contact ran a spice shop near the Royal Quarter. Casyl perused the jars of aromatic spices until the shop cleared of customers. His contact quickly ushered him to the back of the building and up the stairs to a room where a tiny window gave a view out onto the entrance of the Royal Towers.

“Gandor,” Casyl greeted him.

It grew dark as he stayed watching until the early hours. Gandor brought him food and wine.