Page 9 of Memory of Ashes

Her torn clothes were covered in blood and dirt. This town and its buildings were so clean. No wonder they had regarded her with such suspicion.

The door swung open.

An entourage of robed men swept into the room. Amelia rose quickly and pressed herself against the wall like a cornered animal, the cold stone against her back.

They spoke the same language as the others, with its musical sounds and long syllables. It pricked at her memory. She could almost recognise certain words.

She’d never heard a language spoken quite like this, even in her studies. It flowed softly from their tongues.

One of them ventured closer to her. He had long, pale hair, almost white.

“How did you get here?” he asked in her language.

She jolted. It sounded brutish in comparison.

“I’m not sure,” Amelia stuttered. “I was on the mountain.” She paused, piecing the events together. “I don’t even know how I got here.” They wouldn’t believe her, anyway.

“You were at the sacred peak? What were you doing there?” His eyes narrowed, making her hesitate.

“I’m an archaeologist. I was exploring, looking for something. What is this place?”

“What were you looking for?” the man asked, ignoring her questions. He towered over her. His blue velvet robe swept the floor as he moved. Pointed ears protruded through pale blond hair falling to his chest. His eyes were an eerie, vivid purple that pinned her to the spot.

She tensed as he moved closer, unsure of what he’d do. There was no escape.

“I think I found it,” she whispered, more to herself than to them. “Are you them?” She instantly regretted the question. They’d think she was mad.

She’d been looking for evidence of an ancient civilisation. Had she found it? What she hadn’t expected was their resemblance to beings that only existed in stories and myths. Those weren’t real.

She imagined telling Emin and the guild about it. They wouldn’t believe her. She didn’t believe it.

Her father would have.

He turned to leave.

“Wait!” she yelled.

He ignored her, speaking to the others in their language, and left, his entourage following closely behind.

Chapter 3

The pale-haired man’s scrutiny made her feel exposed. His features were unnervingly perfect, and his skin shone with an unnatural translucency.

They had taken her to a larger room in the building and seated her at a large, round wooden table. Two of the men who’d captured her stood behind her chair, their hands close to their sheathed weapons.

There were eight of them, all similar in appearance, with delicately furled ears that peeked through long hair. They wore robes, although most were woollen, not velvet. The pale-haired man’s splendour signalled that he was in charge.

“Am I a prisoner?”

The men spoke to each other in their own language. She could almost understand what they were saying.

“Our land has never been breached, not by one of you. Until we find out how, you’ll be treated as a guarded guest,” the man told her.

“One of you,” she repeated under her breath. They knew her language too. They obviously knew about humans; why didn’t she know about them?

“Send for the Sage.”

One of the robed men remained with her as the others left. He left shortly afterwards and returned with a silver jug of water.