Rift Walker (Ember & Ash Book 1) Page 10

  When the heretic didn’t answer, Ash slammed his back into the wagon. “Where did they take her?”

  “I’ve nothing to say to you,” The heretic spat at Ash and tilted his head back, laughing like a madman.

  Ash wiped a sleeve over his cheek. “We’ll see about that.” He pressed his hand against the man’s chest. A black, shadowy mist swirled under Ash’s hand.

  Magic.

  Magic? Since when had Ash had any magic?

  Before he fell into the rift, he was just another nobody like me. Neither of us had grown up with magic. Old Jim insisted we learn to use a sword for exactly that reason.

  All the blood drained from the heretic’s face, leaving his skin bone white. The whites of his eyes turned red and bulged. He gasped for air, but could find none.

  “Where is your camp?” Ash demanded. He removed his hand from the man’s chest so the heretic could answer.

  The heretic blinked, letting bloody tears fall. “You…” He lifted a trembling hand and touched Ash’s face. “You have seen the Black City! I can smell its taint on your skin. Do you hear the whispers of the gods? They call to us. We are brothers, you and I.”

  Ash drew a dagger from his hip and slit the man’s throat before he could say anything more. He stepped back, releasing his hold on the heretic.

  The heretic dropped limply to his knees, grasping at the blood flowing from his neck. He looked at Ash, his expression a mix of awe and terror, before falling over dead.

  “What a waste,” Ash remarked, cleaning his blade on his cloak.

  “Why’d you kill him then?” Dex moved around to stand between Ash and the dead heretic. “He might’ve been more useful alive. Could’ve traded him back to his people for the necromancer.”

  Ash’s head snapped to the side, sizing up Dex. “Had many dealings with these heretics, have you?”

  Dex swallowed. “Well, no, but—”

  “Then let me explain the difference between a heretic and a normal bandit. They eat the magicite. They cut their bodies and plant it in their blood to take root on purpose, knowing it will turn them into raving, violent madmen. And they do it all because they believe the rifts are portals to the realm of their gods, and doing so will allow them to speak to those gods.” Ash leaned in, almost nose to nose with Dex. “They’re rabid madmen with magic powers. There’s no negotiating with a heretic, Dex. None.”

  Dex lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just thought—”

  “Then don’t think. I didn’t hire you for this hunt to think.”

  Dex clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “You know, if I were a lesser man, I’d think of that as a challenge.” He clenched his fists, his enchanted gloves still on. For a moment, the surrounding air seemed to buzz and crackle with magic. Then Dex leaned back and shrugged lazily. “Of course, I know better. You don’t seem the sort who’d go around fighting with his own hired men. That’d get you a pretty awful reputation, you know? The sort that’d make this your only hunt. Ever.”

  “I have no intention of wasting my time with you.” Ash slid his blade back into the sheathe on his hip. “I have other uses for your skills. I’m told you’re a skilled tracker and competent at remaining out of sight. That makes you ideal for retrieving both Zia and the wagon.”

  “We could just follow the tracks to their camp,” Ike suggested. “Ambush them. Take them all out so they’ll never prey on anyone else in this forest ever again.”

  Ash shook his head. “I doubt the battle would go in our favor. We’re a large force, and they’d likely hear us coming. They’ll execute Zia if they hear us coming.”

  “I’m going with Dex,” I said. “You need at least two people to pull this off.”

  Ash gestured to my injured arm. “You’re not going anywhere until that’s seen to.”

  “Dex, get enough provisions together for three for two days. Just in case. Be ready to go when I return.”

  Ash frowned, but didn’t object. He put his arm around me and nearly dragged me up the line to the first wagon.

  I shrugged his arm off. “There’s no need to make a big fuss over all this. I’m fine.”

  “It could be infected. Those creatures, they’re all exposed to the magicite. Even something as simple as a bite could spread their infection. If that happened… If you got infected I…” He ground his teeth. “I’d never forgive myself, Ember.”

  I turned away. Whether the heretic’s wargs were infected didn’t matter. I already had the same poison in my blood. It wasn’t like I was going to get infected again. “Just let me bandage it myself, Ash. I promise, it’s really not a big deal. I’ve had much worse.”

  “Nonsense,” was all he said.

  We reached the front wagon, which held most of the medical supplies. Foggy was still there, leaning against the side of it, enjoying the contents of his flask. The glow that had engulfed him earlier had faded, leaving him looking a little more tired than usual. His massive hammer hung on his back. The thing was nearly as large as he was.

  Foggy saw us coming and raised his flask in a toast. “Good to see you’re not dead.”

  I glanced around, realizing that we had a few injured sitting around. A few workers had dragged a pair of bodies into the clearing.

  “I’m amazed we didn’t lose more. They surprised us,” I said.

  “Something they’ll only get away with once,” Foggy assured me and took a drink.

  Ash opened the back of the wagon and pulled down a set of wooden stairs. He offered me a hand to climb them, but I declined. I was perfectly capable of getting up three little steps all by myself.

  The inside of the wagon was dark and had a slightly musty smell. They had organized boxes and bags in nets attached to the walls and ceilings. There wasn’t much room to stand, so I had to slide onto the bench on one side.

  While Ash searched the netting for the right supplies to bandage my arm, I started peeling off layers. I’d never been one to wear big, bulky plates of armor, and I couldn’t afford good Kevlar, so I just put on layers of thick cloth and leather. I winced, shrugging off the aged leather jacket, but the next layer in was worse. Some of the blood had dried, holding the woven fabric in place. Tearing the fabric off opened another part of the wound that had previously closed, sending several drops of blood to the floor.

  Ash turned around with his kit and sat on the bench across from me. “Quit moving it. You’ll just make it worse.”

  “You can’t very well patch me up if I’m still wearing all these layers.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing younger me didn’t know all it took was a warg bite to get you to take off all your clothes.”

  My face flushed, and I fumbled with one of the ties. “You keep saying things like that, Zia’s going to hate me even more. She seems to think she’s more your type.”

  “I don’t have a type,” Ash said with a sigh. “And if I did, Zia wouldn’t be it.”

  “Really? Why not? She’s powerful, beautiful…” I carefully rolled the sleeve up on my undershirt, inhaling a hiss of pain at the sight of the bite. The skin was broken, bruised, and bloody. I’d had worse, but that was definitely going to leave a scar.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Zia is a co-worker, nothing more.” He opened a small vial of clear liquid and took my arm gently by the wrist.

  “Then why is she hell bent on keeping me away from you?” I flinched and grimaced as he poured the liquid over the wound.

  “Come on now,” Ash chided. “It’s only water.”

  “Well, it hurts!”

  “I saw you fighting off dozens of heretics and you’re going to complain about a little water?” He set the water aside and used a white towel to wipe the wound clean. “As for Zia, she views herself as my protector. Don’t ask me why. I have no idea what I might’ve done to inspire such loyalty, and she’s not very forthcoming with her explanations. Zia’s a puzzle. You’re better off not trying to understand her.”

  I bit my lip and
turned away as he finished cleaning the wound.

  “This doesn’t look good, Ember. Might need stitches.”

  I swallowed and looked back at the arm. “Nah. Throw some butterfly tape on it, wrap it up real good, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? It could get infected.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Give me some credit. I know how to care for an open wound. Besides, it’s not my sword arm.”

  “All right. It’s your arm.” He shook his head, doubtful, and pulled down more supplies.

  I watched him work, carefully applying the butterfly tape with gentle fingers, a far cry from how he had treated the heretic earlier. He almost didn’t seem like the same man.

  “What was that magic you used earlier, Ash?” I asked quietly.

  He hesitated halfway through opening a package. “I… It’s complicated to explain.”

  “It happened while you were in the rift?”

  Ash nodded slowly and went back to work on my arm. “When I came back, I found I could do certain things, manipulate the world in a way I couldn’t before. It was why the Institute took me in at first. They wanted to study me, Ember. But I didn’t want to be a lab rat. Zia helped me get out.”

  He lifted his hand and stared at his palm. A deep black shadow enveloped his fingers, dancing on them like a dark flame. “I don’t remember what happened to me in there, but I know it’s changed me. It’s in my blood, the same way it’s in the heretics’ blood. Except it’s not making me sick or driving me insane.”

  For a moment, I considered telling him the truth, showing him the crystals growing in the scar on my stomach. Maybe he’d understand. The rift had changed us both.

  Then I remembered how brutally he’d executed the heretic outside. Ash hadn’t even treated him as human. One look at the truth, and he’d think I was one of them. I couldn’t tell him. Even he wouldn’t understand what was happening to me. I barely understood it myself.

  “I need this to be our secret, Ember,” Ash said as he finished bandaging my arm. “No one besides you and Zia knows what I’ve been through, and I’d like to keep it that way. Dex and Ike wouldn’t understand. To them, I’d be no different from one of those heretics. I’d be less than human. A monster, driven mad.”

  “Maybe not all heretics are so bad, Ash.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “Right, and I’m the queen of Atlanta. You saw them, Ember. They’re crazy. They attack anyone they come across, drag them back to their camp, and force feed them magicite until they become just as insane and deformed as they are. Why do you think they’re called heretics in the first place?”

  I shrugged. “Because they worship the rifts as gods.”

  “The rifts are deadly portals created by black magic seeping from another world into ours. They’re not gods.” Ash dumped the last of the water over his hands, cleaning my blood from them. He turned to cleaning up the mess, picking up open packages and discarding them in a drawstring bag he found in the corner. “I’m not like them, Ember.”

  I hesitated, looking up from examining his handiwork. “Why would you say that?”

  He shrugged without looking at me. “Just promise me… If you ever look at me and see no difference between the madmen who attacked us and me, that you’ll stop me. Don’t let me become like that. Ever.”

  “Sure, I guess. But that won’t happen.” I flexed my fist. The arm still hurt a little, but not as bad as it had before.

  Ash placed a hand gently on my bandaged arm. “Ember, without Zia, this hunt may be forfeit. We need her vampires to scout the dragon’s nest.” His voice was strained, his expression desperate. What he wasn’t saying was how much he needed her by his side.

  I couldn’t pretend to understand the strange bond between the two of them, but I would not let her suffer at the hands of madmen. “I’ll bring her back to you, Ash. I promise.”

  He nodded, relieved by the promise.

  I stepped out of the wagon to find Foggy, Kenny, and several others working to reenforce the doors to the vampire wagon. The whole thing rocked precariously back and forth.

  “How long will it hold?” I asked as I approached the wagon.

  Foggy grunted and spat a nail into his fist before hammering it into place. “As long as it has to. Don’t worry about things here, lass. You do yer part an’ leave us to do ours.”

  “There’s a steel cage on the inside,” Ash said. “This is just an extra precaution. I’m more concerned the creatures will tear themselves apart trying to get out, or that it’ll affect the morale here. The sooner you and Dex can bring Zia back, the better.”

  “We’d best get going then.” Dex walked up carrying two leather packs. He’d gathered a length of rope around his middle like a belt and stuffed his gloves into his pocket. “You ready? I tossed some extra gauze and tape in your pack.”

  “Where are the horses?”

  Dex shook his head. “No horses. You want to track, we go on foot. Might take a little longer, but we’re less likely to miss signs or spook any scouts they might have out. They took one of ours, so they probably expect us to mount a rescue. They’ll be looking for us. I intend to be invisible.” He slid on a pair of sunglasses.

  “I’m sure the sunglasses will help.” I winced as I slid the pack onto my back.

  “Laugh if you want, but I’d rather be over-prepared than under.”

  “Just a second.” Ike jogged up with a small leather pouch in his hands. He held it out to me.

  Turning the pouch over, I realized it wasn’t a pouch at all but a holster for a gun. “I don’t really use guns,” I said and tried to give it back to him. Firearms were as deadly as they’d ever been in history, but less reliable for taking down monsters. I’d carried them in the past, but never felt comfortable with them.

  “It’s a flare gun,” Ike explained. “If anything goes wrong and the two of you get captured, fire it straight up. We’ll mobilize another search party to find you.”

  I couldn’t very well say no to that, so I looped the holster onto my belt, thanked Ike, and hurried off to join Dex.

  He shifted the weight of his pack and we started off from the main group.

  I cast a look behind me as we stepped into the thick foliage crushed by wagon wheels, but Ash and the others had already turned their attention back to the wagon. I hope they’re right about how sturdy that wagon is, I thought and ducked under a thick vine, leaving the convoy far behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So, you and Ash.” Dex pushed aside some vines that had nearly been chopped in half when the wagon passed through.

  The heretics had done little to cover their tracks. Either they weren’t concerned about us mounting a rescue mission, or they were counting on it. I was banking on the latter. The crystals in their blood might’ve poisoned their minds beyond all reason, but they weren’t stupid. Their ambush on our convoy was organized, well planned. They hadn’t just grabbed whatever they could carry and run off. To me, it seemed like they had chosen their target, but why Zia?

  “What about it?” I gave him the side eye.

  Dex shrugged. “Just wanted to know if that was a thing.”

  “What sort of thing would it be?”

  “You know,” he made a vague gesture with his hands. “A thing.”

  “You mean a romantic thing.” I stepped over a fallen log, moving parallel to the wagon tracks where foot traffic had stomped down leaves and bushes. “No. We grew up together. You’d hardly know it now, but Ash used to be a gentle soul. He was terrified of spiders. Why? You think you might have a chance?”

  “With you?” Dex shrugged again. “Always good to know what my options are.”

  “That’s interesting. Yesterday, I was a poacher your people were happy to turn away and today I’m a potential romance.”

  He lifted a fallen branch out of the way, searching the ground. The broken section of the bough still held some green, and it looked like someone had deliberately placed the branch to cover the w
agon tracks. “I told you I’ve got nothing against poachers. Truth is, the Marauders are a small guild. We can’t take every job. Even with Ike and his Iron Company snatching up most of the high-paying work, there’s more to be done in and around Atlanta than both our guilds can handle.”

  “Seems like the rest of your people disagree with you.”

  “You mean Kenny?” Dex offered a hand to help me climb over a log that had been dragged onto the path to slow our progress. “Kenny’s like a brother to me, but he’s got no idea how to run a guild.”

  I put my hands in his and let him balance me as I slid over the log. “And you do?”

  “I suppose time will tell, won’t it?” He let go of me and perched his hands on his hips, advancing slowly while frowning at the ground. “Seems they changed their minds and are making more of an effort to cover their tracks. Think they know we’re coming?”

  “I think they’re expecting some kind of response.”

  Dex nodded, and we moved further from the path, keeping the line of broken twigs and uprooted bushes just in sight. When we lost track of the wagon’s path, we had to stop and pick through the bushes, but we eventually found it.

  At dusk, we lost the tracks again and spread out. I was rooting through a thick berry bush with bright yellow buds when Dex whistled, giving the signal for us to regroup. I left the bush alone and navigated through a line of thick trees, almost stumbling into him on the other side. There were no signs of the wagon, but Dex squatted in front of a pair of stone statues. Time had worn the features from the statues’ faces, but there was no mistaking their humanoid shape. They stood like sentries, spears out.

  Beyond the statues stood an ancient-looking ruin of moss-covered stone. Vines curled around arches and through broken stained glass. The building itself seemed to have been uprooted and turned onto its side from the strange angle at which it sat. I couldn’t see past the broken wall, but the flicker of light and the chatter of voices told me there were people in there.