Chapter 18 Rising from the Ashes
RISING FROM THE ASHES
His pain receded like a dark tide, leaving Venrick gasping on unfamiliar shores of consciousness.
His eyes snapped open to a low wooden ceiling, the grain of the timber swimming in his vision before solidifying.
Every heartbeat pushed the corruption further back, black lines retreating down his forearms as he watched.
“He’s awake,” Yarla’s voice, laced with relief.
Venrick turned his head, wincing at the lingering ache in his muscles. The elven woman bent over him. Her silver-white hair fell forward as she examined his eyes. Beyond her, Hardin paced near a shuttered window, pausing only to peer through the cracks at the street below.
“Did Edgar—” Venrick’s voice rasped, his throat raw.
“The boy delivered the page, remember?” Hardin asked.
Venrick hadn’t been sure if what happened after the Keep was all a dream or not, but now he knew it was all a reality.
“He already left with his family. But we’ve got bigger problems,” Hardin said.
As if on cue, heavy boots thudded on the street outside, followed by the unmistakable clatter of armored knights.
Orders to shift into formation sounded in the street, followed by doors slamming.
A gust of wind ripped at the clay shingles and boarded-up shutters as a dragon landed hard so close to the inn that the ground shook.
“Paragons,” Yarla whispered. “They’re systematically searching every building.”
Venrick pushed himself up on his elbows, fighting a wave of dizziness.
I should still be under the effects of the corruption, Venrick thought, remembering how long Yarla had been affected by the rimeshade.
He checked himself, seeing the black lines had withdrawn from his face and chest, but still marked his arms like fading bruises.
“How long was I out?” he asked, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Only a few hours,” Hardin replied, moving to help him stand.
“A few hours?” Venrick’s eyes widened.
“That’s incredibly fast,” Yarla said. “I wasn’t sure if you would make it since you’re not fully elven. I’ve seen this corruption kill humans within minutes.”
“But that wasn’t a rimeshade that attacked me. This spell was from the Entity,” Venrick said.
“Which is all the more unusual,” Yarla said.
“The Entity’s spell should be more potent.
” She shrugged. “I didn’t have much left in my Yogos by the time Cheyanne had to leave, so I wasn’t able to devote much healing energy to you.
But now, it’s retreating as if it’s being pushed out rather than simply fading the way it did with me. ”
Venrick tested his weight on shaky legs. “Does anyone know what happened to Lark?”
Hardin’s expression darkened. “She was captured but not killed. White Eye conveyed as much to Quinthara. He hasn’t attacked, which is a good sign, I think.
Lark’s bond with him is muted but they’re still able to sense one another.
If that ends, White Eye will attack the Keep regardless of his own safety. ”
They all turned suddenly as the door burst open. Cheyanne rushed in, her eyes wild with urgency.
“Knights are two buildings away,” she said, tossing a bundle of clothes at Venrick. “You need to move. Now.”
“What about the ritual pages?” Venrick asked, pulling a rough woolen shirt over his head.
“Secured.” Hardin patted his chest where the metal sheets were hidden. “But there’s a piece missing.”
“We need to go back for Lark,” Venrick insisted, fighting to clear his head. “I can’t leave her there with that, thing.”
Cheyanne’s expression hardened. “You’ll be no use to her dead. The Keep’s forces are specifically asking about all of us, but it’s you, Venrick, that the King wants.”
“They know that you’re in charge of the rebellion?” he asked.
“They’ve connected the dots faster than I anticipated. They’ll be barricading the city soon. They’ll figure out this inn is connected to me and Ezra.”
A loud crash from somewhere down the street punctuated her words. Shouts followed, along with a woman’s scream.
“They’re not being subtle,” Yarla murmured, gathering her small pack of supplies.
Cheyanne moved to the window beside Hardin, peeking through the shutters.
“We split up. Different routes, different exits. You three join Quinthara in the ravine northeast of the city. Head for the Everburning Forest with the ritual information. Make sure it gets to Ezra. I’ll stay with a contingent to continue our work here. ”
“They’ll arrest you,” Venrick protested, gripping the bedpost to steady himself.
“They’ll try,” Cheyanne replied with a grim smile. “But I’ve spent decades hiding in plain sight in this city. The propaganda is already spreading, and with what you’ve confirmed about the King and this Entity, the people deserve to know what’s coming.”
The door opened again, and a familiar, feminine face appeared. Sasja, her hood drawn up and blue eyes wide with concern.
“They’re nearly at the front door,” Sasja whispered urgently. “Six Vermillion Knights and a Paragon wearing brismil plate armor.”
Cheyanne immediately sprang into action. “Yarla, take the roof exit with Venrick. Hardin, the cellar passage. Sasja, show them the way, then find the rest of us at our fallback safehouse.”
“Got it,” Sasja said with a nod.
Venrick found his sword belt beside the bed and buckled it on, noticing that someone had replaced the depleted Yogo in its pommel with a fresh one. When he lifted the weapon, it felt unnaturally heavy in his weakened state.
Hardin gripped his shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, his eyes burning with determination. “But first, we need to survive.”
Boots thundered on the stairs below, and somewhere in the building, a muffled voice demanded entry in the name of the King.
“Go,” Cheyanne urged, drawing a short elven blade from beneath her robes. “I’ll delay them.”
Sasja was already opening a hidden panel behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow passage. Hardin slipped through without hesitation, pausing only to nod once to Venrick.
“The roof’s this way,” Yarla said, taking Venrick’s arm and guiding him toward a ladder in the corner that led to a hatch above.
His muscles protested as he climbed, but the urgency of their situation pushed him onward. Behind them, he heard Cheyanne barking orders to her people, preparing to face the King’s forces.
The roof hatch opened to the pre-dawn darkness of Astral City. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the distant sounds of alarm bells and shouting. The festival decorations still hung from buildings, fluttering like forgotten dreams in the morning breeze.
“This way,” Yarla directed, helping Venrick across the slanted roof to a narrow plank bridging the gap to the next building. “We need to put distance between us and the inn before daylight.”
Venrick’s gaze drifted to the towering silhouette of the Vermillion Keep, its red stone darkened to black against the lightening eastern sky. Lark was being held somewhere within those walls.
“She instructed White Eye to stay hidden,” Yarla said, following his gaze. “She must have had a reason.”
“I shouldn’t have left her,” Venrick muttered, the familiar weight of failure settling on his shoulders.
“You did what she asked,” Yarla replied firmly. “And you secured part of the ritual. The fight isn’t over, Venrick.”
A shout from below spurred them forward. They crossed the makeshift bridge, moving from rooftop to rooftop as the city began to stir around them. Venrick’s strength returned gradually with each step, the corruption continuing its steady retreat from his system.
After several blocks, they descended via a rain gutter to an alley behind a tannery. The stench of chemicals masked their scent from any tracking hounds the Knights might employ. They moved cautiously through the awakening city, keeping to shadows and side streets.
A checkpoint loomed ahead at the east gate. Knights were checking everyone leaving the city. Venrick pulled his hood lower, concealing the fading corruption marks that still traced his jawline.
“Papers,” a guard demanded as they approached.
Yarla stepped forward smoothly, her elven features composed into a mask of haughty indifference. “My servant and I are returning to Gambria after the festival,” she stated, producing documents that Venrick recognized as Cheyanne’s forgeries.
The guard scrutinized the papers while another peered at Venrick suspiciously. “Remove your hood,” he ordered.
Venrick hesitated, knowing full well that if his ears didn’t give him away, the corruption marks, though fading, would immediately identify him. Before he could comply, a commotion erupted at the opposite side of the gate.
“Stop peddling that blasphemy against the King!” someone shouted. “Where did you get this false propaganda? Arrest them!”
The guards turned instinctively toward the disturbance. In that moment, Yarla grabbed Venrick’s arm and pulled him through the checkpoint, melting into the crowd of merchants and travelers beyond.
“That was too close,” Venrick muttered as they hurried along the east road, putting distance between themselves and the city walls.
“Cheyanne’s rebels,” Yarla explained, her lips curving in a slight smile. “The distraction was planned.”
They followed the road only until they were out of sight of the walls, then veered north into the rugged terrain leading away from the foothills of the Astral Mountains.
They found the ravine carved out by a seasonal creek bed and followed it in search of Hardin.
Venrick’s heart pounded when he saw a dragon lurking around a corner.
He mis-stepped, hesitating at the sight of the dragon’s midnight scales as they blended almost perfectly with the morning shadows.
It took him more than a few frantic seconds to recognize Quinthara.
Hardin called out to Venrick from a nearby boulder. Relief rushed over both as they spotted one another. “I was about to send Quin to look for you,” Hardin said on Venrick’s approach.