Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 56: The Beginning or the End

They flew down the steps.

Anna fumbled with the belt of her robe. She cast it aside, letting it flutter to the ground like some graceful white bird. No sense in giving the enemy something to grab hold of. Ryne jogged beside her. He gripped a sword in one hand and a candle in the other; the light flickered as they ran, catching at his bloodshot eyes.

Ryne took a left. "In the dream you had..." He vaulted over a stool. "Did Nyxos give you any indication whether our guests are friendly?"

Anna adjusted her knives. "Nope."

"Helpful," Ryne muttered.

"He was a bit busy," Anna said, patting down her hips. Damn. She'd forgotten two knives. "Petting his alpaca."

Ryne blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind," Anna said. "I'll fill you in later." She slowed as they approached the front entrance hall. "Parker?"

The young guard straightened. He stood in front of a steel portcullis, holding a spear in one hand. All but useless against a sunhound, Anna observed, but excellent in case of they needed to reach something on a top shelf. So that was good, at least.

"Yes?" Parker asked.

She set her chin. "Open the gates."

The young guard's eyes flicked to Ryne. "I really don't think—"

"You heard her," Ryne drawled. "The gates, Parker." His smile was a knife hidden beneath silk. "Please."

Parker opened the gates.

The portcullis groaned, blinking bleary eyes as it ground upwards. Anna took a step. A night breeze tickled her neck, whispering gently over the words burnt into her back. She gripped her knife, feeling the words dig in: Only In Darkness Can We See the Stars. She was made of words, a map of stories written into her skin.

And today was either the beginning or the end.

Ryne stood nearby, his face hard as granite. He raised his torch. The night was thick and still as pond water. Still, Anna could make out movement in the grey hills, like the rolling back of some great sea serpent.

She stiffened. "Ryne."

"What?"

"I can see them," Anna said, her lips numb.

Ryne's eyes bored through the darkness, as if he could make it part for him. "How many?"

Anna swallowed. "Hundreds."

"Hundreds?" Parker echoed. "Hundreds of people?" The young guard had gone a faint green colour, and he fumbled for the bell, cursing under his breath. "They're here. The others... We have to warn the others—"

Anna turned. "Wait!"

But it was too late; the brass bell echoed across the frozen gardens. Ryne extinguished his torch, raising his hands. Golden magic unravelled from his fists, melting like liquid coins, and Anna touched his wrist.

"Don't," she said. "Not yet."

Ryne cut his gaze sideways. "What?"

"Trust me," Anna said.

Ryne searched her face, as if he could dredge meaning from it like pulling water from a well. He lowered his hands.

A tense minute passed. Then another. Anna was vaguely aware of the castle waking, blazing to life like a birthday candle, but she refused to turn. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight. She was half-expecting to hear the whizz of an arrow, or the dull thunk of a knife meeting its target. She gripped the knife harder.