Page 26 of Memory of Ashes

“Do all of you have abilities?” Amelia asked, breathless, as they stopped to rest.

Ruven and Danae hesitated.

“Not anymore,” Ruven said. “We used to. Those with abilities climb high in the ranks or hide their power if that’s not the life they want. But it’s rare that any abilities manifest.”

“Why don’t I see any women around here?” she asked.

“You’re full of questions today. This is no place for a woman,” he replied seriously.

She frowned at him and gestured to herself and Danae.

He grinned. “That’s different. You are both… different.”

It was odd that there were so few. Back home, women didn’t have the same rights as men, but they still existed. Admittedly, the military was a male-dominated profession, but even the staff at the fortress she’d seen were mostly male.

“Where are they?” she asked.

“They’re in the High City,” Danae said, taking advantage of this distraction to fire a barrage of flames at Amelia. She could not prevent the attack, but she managed to extinguish the flames as Danae fought to keep them alight.

“Nice!” Ruven called.

She blocked Danae’s sword strike, but it was all she could do. Amelia was no match for her.

“You’re getting stronger,” Danae said.

She beamed at the praise, and then the feeling faded. She wasn’t strong enough. She was still relying on everyone else to keep her safe whilst she remained cooped up in this miserable fortress.

Her sword clattered against the stone floor as she threw it down. The smell of burning still lingered in the air. “I don’t understand why I need to learn how to do all of this,” she said, clenching her fists. “No one seems to answer any of my questions around here!”

“We don’t always have the answer,” Ruven said.

They both stood calmly, watching her. Her cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what my life is anymore. Am I a prisoner? Am I a weapon?” She sighed. “I just wish I knew what was happening. Nothing makes any sense!”

Danae walked towards her and put a hand on her shoulder.

The gesture caused her to flinch.

“I can’t speak for the king or Casyl, but you’re one of us. It may not mean much to you, but it means we need to keep you alive, and that’s what the training will do. Now pick up your sword.”

Defeated in more than one way, she retreated to her chamber. The corridor narrowed as the walls closed in on her. She shut the door to the turret and leaned back against the cold stone wall. She would not fall apart, not now, but she felt like an artefact, broken into pieces, trapped beneath centuries of dirt and mended with glue.

A faint light illuminated the winding staircase leading to Casyl’s chamber. Tentatively, she placed her foot on the first step and listened. No sound echoed down to her. She climbed the staircase, following it as it spiralled upwards until the door came into view. It had been left ajar.

She should go back to her room. She turned to leave, but curiosity drew her back to the door.

What did the room of this dangerous commander look like? She imagined the bare room, cold and harsh, like him, but when she stepped through the doorway, she stopped. This couldn’t be his room.

There were no soft furnishings, as she’d expected, but shelves filled with books and trinkets lined the walls.

She walked over to them, studying the small pieces of chiselled stone and the broken figurines.

Why did he have these? They weren’t decorative. One figure had been carefully repaired, and another looked ancient, worn smooth by time. Her fingers extended cautiously towards the relics, then curled into her palm. She shouldn’t touch them.

The door creaked behind her. She spun. It was just the breeze from the sea.

She glanced back to the shelf once her alarm had passed.

Who was Casyl?