Chapter 51
We don’t have a fiend match for Ash yet,” Ciona says, her eyes troubled. “Where is it?”
“Beddig Burg.”
Obviously sensing something happening by all the tense faces, Conrad walks over. “What’s wrong?”
“Ash Plague just hit in my territory,” Varrik answers grimly, before stuffing the paper in his pocket.
“How long ago?”
“Hours already. It took my guard a while to get out and head to the closest leyline. By the sounds of it, it’s strong. They won’t have much time before the whole burg is buried.”
Conrad has lost his usual jovial expression. “What do you need me to do?”
“Go back to Penbroge. We might need your healing magic when we get back.”
Conrad nods and goes to speak with someone from his group, and Varrik looks to Ciona. “Find Lace, tell her what’s happening.”
She quickly turns and heads for the door of the tavern, and then Varrik launches into motion. “Let’s go.”
Frid, Garren, Varrik, and I go back down to the cellar, into the room where wine barrels wall off the empty section of the floor. Varrik grips my hand, and with a nauseating fall, we’re right back at the grounds of his castle.
A guard jolts at our arrival, and Varrik instantly lists off orders to him. “Run inside. Get me my cloak and go to the kitchens and gather waterskins. Bring them to the stables as quickly as you can.”
The guard nods and races ahead, feet kicking up clumps of dirt and grass.
“We’ll need horses,” Varrik says as soon as Garren and Frid arrive behind us.
“What’s the closest vein?” Garren asks.
“Seventh set of pillars will bring us the closest to Beddig, but it’ll still be several miles away from there.”
I have to practically run to keep up with his striding steps as we head for the stables across the grounds, right at the side of the castle. We stop there and he calls to the stable hands to bring out the horses. The two boys run in to do his bidding, while Varrik hails another guard.
“We have a Plagued territory at Beddig Burg,” he tells the man.
“I want you to put together a retrieval team to meet us. I don’t know how many we’ll be able to get out, but hitch up carts to some horses—the narrow ones that will fit through the pillars.
Bring provisions and face coverings. It’s Ash, so make sure everyone is prepared for low visibility.
Go through the seventh pillars when you’ve gathered it all.
The horses unfamiliar with traveling through the leyline may be spooked, so you’ll have to ease them in. ”
“Yes, Govern.” The man hurries away from the stables, hollering at the other guards.
“Estinya, go inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Varrik tells me.
I shake my head. “No, I want to come.”
He jerks his eyes to me in surprise, before that expression turns to a scowl. “Absolutely not.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Frid beats me to it. “She’s your Latch, Varrik. She should come with you. It’ll help strengthen your magic.”
“She can do that from a distance.”
“Yes, but being closer helps. You know this. The latch won’t like you being far apart anyway, not with it so newly formed. It’s going to be seeking her out to help sustain itself.”
My wide eyes flick to him with gratitude. “See? That settles it.”
“That does not settle it,” Varrik retorts. “It’s dangerous.”
“But isn’t this what Latches are supposed to do? What I’m supposed to do?” I counter. “You need to go beat back a Plague, so let me help you do that.”
The tic in his jaw pulses. I know he wants to argue, but he lets out a loaded sigh. “Fine. You will do as I say, is that clear? We are walking into a fresh Plague. It’s incredibly dangerous.”
I nod vehemently. “I understand.”
Within minutes, the stable hands bring out three horses, and Varrik lifts me onto the back of his.
I bunch up the skirt of my dress, thankful that there’s enough fabric to cover most of my thighs.
Two guards return, one of them bringing Varrik his cloak, while the other straps waterskins to each of our saddles.
Frid and Garren mount their own horses, and then Varrik climbs up behind me.
He leads the way back toward the pillars, where we enter a different part of the leyline.
The horses toss their heads nervously, but we go straight over the leaf-scattered marble. With a roiling of my stomach, I’m tossed out of the castle grounds and into somewhere new and littered with trees.
Varrik has to soothe his horse as it tries to rear up, his hand stroking against its neck as he speaks softly to calm it. I look around, noticing a noxious scent in the air.
“What is that?” I ask, waving a hand in front of my nose.
“It’s from the Ash,” Garren tells me as he stops beside us. He pulls out a small wad of cloth and shoves the fabric into his nose.
Frid ties a kerchief around his face to keep out the stench. When he sees me looking, he cocks a brow. “You might want to use your veillet.”
With a nod, I unhook the rings from my horns, and Varrik helps me to fold the fabric and tie it around the back of my head to cover the lower part of my face.
Varrik ties an extra piece of cloth around my mouth and nose too, just for extra protection, before doing the same to himself.
Then with a tap of his heel, we begin cutting through the forest.
My mood swings back and forth between nervousness and curiosity. I’ve never seen this Plague before, and I’m wondering how the three of them can combat it, since none of their magic has anything to do with Ash.
But I can’t ask, because as soon as we’re out of the thick trees, Varrik picks up the pace until all three horses are galloping full out.
All I can do is shove my streaming hair into the back of my dress and hold on to the horn of the saddle.
Varrik’s thick thighs bracket mine, his back propping me up against the speed while his arm stays secured around me, ensuring I don’t fall.
As we ride, the miasmic scent grows and thickens. Even with the fabric wrapped around my face, the smell turns my stomach enough that I have to hold back a gag.
Varrik stops us just as the air takes on a tinge of gray, and Garren pulls out a spyglass, his bulky body ramrod straight as he looks ahead.
“I see it,” Garren says, before handing it over.
Varrik extends the spyglass, notching his eye in to look through.
“It’s even more severe than I expected.” His face is tight with worry as he pulls the tool away and hands it back to Garren.
“We leave the horses—I don’t want to risk them.
They’ll wander back toward the leyline. Take all the water. We’ll need it.”
The three men dismount, and then Varrik looks up at me. “I want you to stay with the horses.”
I knew he was going to say that.
“I’m already here, Varrik. Let me come with you the rest of the way.” I pull my leg up and over and then slide myself down the side of his horse. I land with a stumble, but he catches me by the arms.
He growls. “Estinya. You said you were going to listen.”
I lay a gentle hand on his arm. “I promise to listen if you let me come with you. So let me. Please,” I say imploringly. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I just want to help. I want to see what being a Latch actually means.”
My conviction bleeds through my tone, and Varrik curses beneath his breath. It’s foul enough to make my ears burn, but I don’t back down. “I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
He shoots me a dark look, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he yanks up two of the waterskins and winds their straps around my waist.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I know this isn’t what he wants, but it means a lot to me that he’s willing to concede.
Varrik knots the straps and gives me one more harsh glare, though I try not to let it bother me since I know it stems from worry.
The men tie their own waterskins to their belts, and when we’re all ready, they urge their mounts back in the direction we came. Varrik murmurs something to his horse, and it snorts before clopping forward.
“Let’s go,” Varrik clips, though he doesn’t look at me.
He stalks ahead, and I let out a tight breath, but Frid nods at me encouragingly. “It’s fine,” he murmurs.
I follow behind.
As we walk, I don’t offer a single noise of complaint, even though the thickening air makes it harder and harder to breathe and the scent grows so stifling that my lungs feel saturated with it.
Varrik leads the way with indomitable motion, the colored strips of his cloak trailing behind him. Beneath our feet, the ground shifts from brown to gray.
And then Ash begins to fall from the sky.
Thick, smoky flurries blow down like a blizzard without the freeze. It coats my hair, covers my skin, and somehow finds its way into my mouth. It doesn’t taste like normal ash. It has a putrid edge that makes my instincts scream at me to flee.
The layer of Ash is thin upon the ground at first, erased by our footfalls. Then, inch by inch, it thickens. Within minutes, it’s already ankle deep. Then it grows higher. And higher.
The skirt of my dress becomes nothing but a hindrance, making me trip.
“Here.”
I startle when Varrik appears in front of me and leans down.
“No, I’m fine, really . . .”
Ignoring me, he grips my skirt and hauls it up high enough that I blanch. “Varrik—”
With deft movements, he tucks several inches of the fabric beneath the waterskin straps belted around my waist, making the hem of my skirt much higher. Then he ties the fabric in a knot at my hip to further secure it.
“There,” he says as he stands. “Better?”
Most of my bare legs are revealed, which makes me blush, but I don’t deny that I’ll be able to maneuver the Ash much better now. “Yes, thank you.”
He watches me, making my stomach tighten. Then with a nod, he turns and starts walking again with his cloak dragging behind him, the strips of color hidden beneath the dusting.
We all continue to trudge through the Ash, my bare shins now catching the brunt of it. It smolders slightly. Not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to make me sweat. To make me uncomfortable.
Then the wind starts up.
It whirls the Ash around, assaulting our bodies, our senses, our air. It becomes so strong that I have to close my eyes against the onslaught and keep my lips pinched tight.
Finally, we reach the burg, and I squint ahead, seeing hills of rock bookending either side of it. The gate is closed tight, set between a bricked wall. From the looks of it through the wrought iron bars, Ash is piled up high enough that it’s buried the buildings more than halfway.
We stop just outside of the gate, and Varrik says something to Frid that I don’t hear over the wind. His face is covered, only his eyes startlingly clear. He holds up a hand to me, wordlessly asking me to stay, and I nod.
They turn to go closer, and I huddle in place, wincing at the sound of the wind. But then I realize that it’s not the wind wailing at all.
It’s people.