Flames of Ashmore

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rowan

Spencer was still waiting for me when I climbed down the tree. Tucking the book beneath my arm, I jumped down the last few feet from the lowest branch, earning a disapproving look from Spence. Ignoring him, I brushed the dirt from my trousers. My hair was a mess, the wispy strands slipping from their braid.

“What were you doing up there with a fae?” Spencer asked, following me down the lane to the house. He looked like an ordinary human, even though he was fae. Tall, lanky, black hair. Twitchy brown eyes that always looked a little nervous. He’d been my mother’s best friend since she was my age, and other than her, the only family I had.

That didn’t make him any less annoying.

“Trying to get a glimpse of the Travelers going through Harlow Springs.”

“Yes, but what were you doing with the fae? And one of the Sidhe, no less.”

“Talking.”
Spencer’s teeth ground in frustration. “About?” Moving quick as only a phouka could, he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Crossing his arms, he waited.

I heaved a sigh. At this rate, I would never get a look at my father’s book. “We were talking about the Choosing. He said he could get me a ride.”

Spencer paled. “The Choosing? Why would you want to go to the Choosing?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe because I’ve never been before? Because my mother has hardly let me go to Harlow Springs, let alone anywhere else. Or maybe because it’s my year? I’m seventeen, Spence. Island Law says I have to go.”

“But if you’re Chosen at Lughnasadh, you won’t survive the Trials. Rowan, you can’t even produce a goddess flame.”

I hadn’t forgotten. Every race on the island could produce the energy dubbed the goddess flame. It was the gift the Goddess gave the Tuatha de Danann, her chosen people. After the great wars, she gifted other races as well, and their descendants still carried the gifts to this day. Some people could produce more than a flame if the Goddess blessed them with other gifts. Even the fae had powers of their own, usually of an elemental nature. But not me. I couldn’t produce so much as a flicker.

“No one survives the Choosing.” I stomped up the lane, kicking rocks out of my path. “If they did, the prophecy would be fulfilled, and we’d be done with the whole thing. But it wasn’t like I’d be Chosen anyway. As you said, I can’t even produce a goddess flame.”

Spencer’s long legs allowed him to keep pace with me. He did a double take when he saw the book. “Ro,” he said, drawing my nickname out slowly. “What is that?”

“I’m not sure.” Excited, I held it out so he could see. “The Sidhe gave it to me. He said it belonged to my father.” Opening the book, I turned to a random page in the middle with intricate border designs around what was clearly a spell. “I think it’s a book of high magic.”

Spencer gasped. “You know high magic is illegal! In Eladan, it’s even punishable by death.”

His reaction wasn’t uncalled for. High magic had been outlawed after the last Great War between the clans when the Milesian sorcerer Viron used magic to make the traitor Gabriel immortal. There were so many versions of it in on my shelves, I knew the dangers like the back of my hand. According to legend, after Gabriel was defeated, the Temple decreed all magic, even low magic, outlawed. Only after they had marched on the Crown for using magic against the Axis—and lost—had the two powers of the Island, Temple and Crown, been able to come to a compromise. The day-to-day use of the goddess flame was condoned, but high magic like the spells in my father’s book, were forbidden.

Still, I was curious.

“What would happen if you got caught?” Spencer grabbed my arm, making me listen. “They would throw you in a cell. Your mother would kill me.”

I smirked. Of course, Spencer was more worried about Mama’s wrath than me getting arrested. Deirdre Harper had that effect on people. But I’d had a lifetime of my mother’s temper, and I was pretty good at finding ways around her rules.

We rounded the bend by the little stream, Spencer still prattling on about being cautious, and my house came into view. It wasn’t much; a couple of rooms joined together in a quaint little bungalow, but it was home. I could still make out the two windows on either side of the door even though dusk was upon us. The latticed wood design over the glass tied into the window boxes I built with my mother when I was ten. Each spring we filled them with flowers, bringing color to our dreary corner of the world. The front door was painted a vibrant blue and looked inviting under the rounded eaves of the roofline even though Spencer was our only visitor. But my favorite part of the house was around back, where the porch wrapped around the side of the house and formed a deck overlooking the stream that bordered our property. I spent a decent part of my time there, my nose buried in a book, yearning for an adventure to take me out into the world.

“Relax, Spencer.” Taking the steps to the front porch, I opened the door, and the delicious scent of Mama’s meat pies drifted out to greet me. She may have gone to Ada for the week, refusing to let me leave the farm, but she’d left food to fill my stomach, and for that, I was grateful.

Stepping inside, I peered around the door to where Spencer still stood on the porch. “I’m not going to do magic,” I assured him, fingers crossed behind my back. “You can report back to Mama that I was a good little girl, ate my dinner, and went right to sleep. Okay? Goodnight.” Grinning, I shut the door in his face with a snap before he could voice the protests already tumbling off his lips.

When I was sure he was gone, I got myself a meat pie from the kitchen, lit the gas lantern in the living room, and settled myself on the deep burgundy sofa. I pulled out my father’s book. As carefully as I could, I opened it up and laid it out on my lap. The binding creaked and the smell of old paper wafted around the room, making me sneeze. Running my fingers over the pages, I felt the raised print of the original ink on homemade paper. As I turned the pages, I couldn’t help but wonder if my father had once sat in his room, doing the same thing. Maybe it had been passed down from generation to generation. I wished more than anything I had the answers. Knowing nothing about my father except what he’d left behind was its own kind of torture.

Pushing the thought aside, I turned another page. There were a lot of lists, mostly about plants and their medicinal properties, but they all had the same beautiful illustrations. Flowers and herbs twined around the edges of the paper, the brush strokes fine and intricate. It was nearly midnight when I stopped reading, excitement coursing through my veins. I’d eagerly taken in every word, even if it was crazy. Now, here was an incantation I thought I might be able to do. “Behind the Veil,” I whispered, running a finger over the title. It was written in heavy, dark blue ink by a flourishing hand. Reality seemed to ripple when the words rubbed against my skin. My necklace began to hum at my neck. Scribbling the instructions on a scrap of paper, I grabbed a sweater and rushed out the back door.

The night was muggy, the light rain from that afternoon clashing with hot summer temperatures. Somewhere in the lawn, crickets were delivering a moonlight sonata and the air was filled with their chirping music. I stared at the paper in front of me, fear and anticipation mingling with adrenaline. Breathing evenly, I closed my eyes and whispered into the dark.

“Taobh thiar den veil.”

Nothing happened. Disappointed, I read the words again. The spell was written in the Old Tongue, so there was a good chance I wasn’t saying it right. But I’d heard my mother speak it enough to pick up on the pronunciation. Wracking my brain, I tried again. I could feel the energy welling within me, the same energy I worked so hard to hold onto but could never grasp. Still, nothing happened.

Without thinking, I reached for my pendant and jerked my hand back with a hiss. Blood welled on my finger. I’d cut myself on the fitting holding the stone in place. Shaking my finger to dispel the pain, I showered the earth with drops of blood.

“Concentrate,” I whispered, chastising myself. Taking another deep breath, I poured everything I had into one single thought. I said the words again. “Taobh thiar den veil.”

This time, the air went cold, and an icy blanket settled around me. A strange ripple appeared in the air. It looked like a door. Trusting my instincts, I thrust my hand forward until the tips of my fingers brushed against the ripple. Electricity thrilled up my arm, standing the little hairs on end. Tentatively, I curled my hand back.

I’d done it. I’d done magic. From the little I knew of spells, it was a fancy one, too. It looked like a portal, though I had absolutely no idea how I’d created it or where it would lead. I shook my head, dispelling my misgivings.

Only one way to find out.

Stepping forward, I reached my hand out again, this time letting it make contact. Energy pulsed through the rip in the air. The closer I got, the brighter it became. Steeling myself against whatever magic I had awakened, I walked through the rip in the night.

Instantly, the freezing air swirled around me, pressing against arms, pushing me this way and that, until it surrounded me like an icy film against my skin. If I’d been capable, I would have screamed. The air was suffocating, stealing my voice. The pressure arched against me, invading like thousands of tiny knives slicing me all at once. Then, just as suddenly, the pain was gone. What felt like hours of agony was really less than a second, and I stood in the middle of a frozen field.

I had no idea where I was. Shivering, I looked around. I was standing at the edge of a perfectly round clearing, a meadow surrounded by a forest of trees. The leaves were so dark against the bright white of the bark that the trees looked luminescent. Tiny flowers in the grass glowed like little neon stars, their leaves various shades of purple, teal, and fuchsia. Everything in the meadow was coated with frost. Luckily, with such a clear night, the light from the full moon allowed me to see.

I began to wander. There were only a few openings between the trees that led to any sort of trail. One such place veered off to the left, beginning almost where I’d landed. I couldn’t tell where it led between the trees, but I made a mental note in case I needed it later. To my right was an iron gate that surrounded a garden of thorns. The gate completed the circle, but the garden itself covered about an acre of land before it blended in and faded back into the trees. Curious, I approached the fence. From up close, I could see it wasn’t just a garden of thorns. Those thorns had roses, their petals the color of deepest midnight, a black so rich and velvety it had a purple hue. At first glance, I would have said the plants were dead. How anything could thrive when it was so cold was beyond me, but something must have been alive at some point. Crouching down, I ran a finger over a soft rosebud protruding through the bars. It was very much alive. Not just alive—the plant felt ancient. Power flowed through the petals. My finger trailed to the tip of the flower. Electricity sparked the air and I yelped, cradling my hand against my chest. The stone in my necklace thrummed against my skin.

My welcome had been rescinded.

Whatever force was sleeping in that garden, it was awake now. I could feel the life flowing through the petals, feel the frost begin to melt beneath my feet. The hum from my necklace got louder, the stone heating so much it burned my chest.

Fear raced down my spine. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” I told the Goddess. The words were no louder than a whisper, but I could still hear the tremble. “Please, Lady. Please forgive me.” Scrambling to my feet, I hurried back to the trailhead and frantically searched for the portal. But it was nowhere to be found. With ruthless precision, I forced down the panic.

The presence was closer now, pressing in on me, closing my airways, even though I couldn’t see a thing. The Goddess didn’t want me there, that much was certain. But still, something felt off, almost sinister. And yet, I had no desire to stick around and find out what. If only I could get out of the damn clearing.

The spell. What was the spell? Gasping for air, I tried to find the words, the stone in my hand shaking uncontrollably. Nothing. The scream bubbled in my throat.

The blood.

Taking the necklace off, I turned it on its side and pried up the sharp fitting holding the stone in place. Gripping it in my hand, I dragged the metal over the side of my palm. Warm, thick red blood welled up on my skin. Before I could question it, I squeezed the blood onto the ground, letting it fall in bright red droplets to the earth. “Taobh thiar den veil,” I croaked, struggling to put power into the incantation. To my relief, the ripple appeared beside me. This time, I didn’t hesitate. Instead, I plunged into the frozen torment head-first, completely uncaring of how the travel would feel. I prayed I would get away in time, that if I didn’t end up at home, I would at least end up somewhere safe. Anything was better than what I’d left behind.

My hands hit grass. Never in my life had I been so grateful to be on solid ground. Pulling myself up, I climbed to my feet. Something rustled in the bushes to my right. I sighed. Of course, Spencer would be watching me. Well, fae or not, he better not tell a soul. If I ended up arrested, I would make sure he was in that iron cage with me. It would serve him right.

Inside, I stashed the book in my knapsack. My mother never looked in that ragged old bag, and Spencer wouldn’t dare. My secret would be safe for now, at least.

Sitting down on my bed, I pulled the plush red throw around my shoulders, seeking comfort I didn’t know how to get. Tugging the blanket tight, I began to shake. I should never have done that spell. Not only did I break the law, but I angered the Goddess. I invaded a space I was never meant to be in. If I hadn’t gotten out when I did, who knows what would have happened? The only thing I knew was I wasn’t welcome behind the Veil. Not only that, but something felt wrong. Whatever sinister presence was in those woods wasn’t supposed to be there, which didn’t bode well for the Realm of Ashmore.

Something was coming. I could feel it in my bones. The problem was I had no idea what.



The next morning came without incident. No soldiers banging down my door, no mob set upon the house to arrest me. I was safe. Only, I didn’t feel safe at all. The Goddess wasn’t done with me. Running a brush through my hair, I tied the sides back with a black ribbon, letting the rest fall down my back. I dressed in my favorite dark teal dress, the sleeves going all the way down my wrists.

Like always, my pendant sat snug at my throat. I studied it in the looking glass. It was an average piece of jade, smoothed to a shine, situated in a simple gold fitting. There was nothing special about it except the sentimental connection to my father, who had passed away before I was born. But the way it reacted to magic the glade last night said it was anything but ordinary.

The morning was crisp and cool, bird song mixing with the ripple of the stream. I took it in. Nothing calmed me down so much as breathing in the fresh air of the outdoors. Nothing really, except Scout.

Making my way to the barn, I plucked the heavy apron from the peg just inside the door and tied it around my waist. Mama could always tell when I didn’t do my chores. If she came back and the barn was a mess, I was dead. Or confined to my room. In the back corner of the barn, bathed in sunlight coming through the high windows, my horse, Scout, stood with his head sticking out over the door. Scout was a shire horse, standing tall at eighteen hands. He was black as the darkest night, save the white stripe down his nose and the shaggy covering over each of his four hooves. His ears pricked forward when he saw me.

“Hello, big boy,” I crooned, running a hand down the side of his neck. “It’s always a good morning when I get to see you.” Grabbing the brush, I stepped inside the stall and began his morning grooming. I’d just finished when the sound of wheels on gravel filled the air. “Who could that be?” Placing the brush back on the shelf, I patted Scout’s flank and strode out to meet our visitors.

Two armed soldiers on horseback rode up to the house, brandishing the red and gold banners of the royal family, as well as the dark blue flag of Harlow Springs. Behind them, another soldier steered a two-horse carriage. On the back, it held an iron cell. My heart plummeted. It was no coincidence they arrived the morning after I’d done high magic. What had I been thinking?

Shielding my eyes against the glare from the sun, I forced down the panic and plastered on a smile. “Good morning, officers. What can I help you with today?”

“Are you alone?” one of the soldiers asked in lieu of greeting. His voice was as gruff as his face. He looked more battle-worn than any soldier I’d ever seen—not that I’d seen many. The years had not been kind to him.

I nodded. “My mother is away on delivery.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I felt.

“No other person but you at this residence?”

“We have a family friend that checks in on me when she’s away, but no. It’s just me, sir.”

“Are you aware that the use of high magic is illegal and punishable by imprisonment or death?”

Oh no.

“What’s your name, miss?” the other soldier asked. He was younger, his voice kinder, but there was a look in his eyes I didn’t trust; a feeling in my gut told me he could be cruel when he wanted. The older one was rough around the edges, but he had honor. It was him I wanted to deal with.

“My name is Rowan Harper. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I assure you, there was no high magic done on this farm.” At least, none I was willing to admit.

“We received reports that a Veil spell was conducted at this residence last night around midnight,” the older man told her. “As you’ve admitted you were the only one here, I’m afraid you’ll need to come with us.”

Both soldiers dismounted and approached me with hands on the hilts of their swords. On instinct, I dropped into a fighting stance. I may not be able to produce a goddess flame, but I’d been training to fight for years. There was no way I could take on three armed soldiers, but my mother made sure I’d never be helpless. If there was a chance I could get away, I had to try.

The two soldiers flanked me, coming at me from both sides. I knew there was no way out, but I had no intention of riding quietly to my death. They moved quickly, their armored hands shooting out and grasping both of my arms. I struggled against their grip, screaming through gritted teeth. I bucked against them all the way to the carriage, banging my head against their armor.

Just as they hauled me around the back of the cell, movement caught my eye beside the bushes where the road curved. Spencer peered at me from around the hedge, terror clear on his face. “Spencer!” I yelled, my voice coming out in a growl deep within my throat. If the guards thought I’d struggled before, it was nothing to how I pulled against them then. “Find my mother, Spence. Find Deirdre!” Though Spencer paled, he nodded. Then he disappeared into the trees, leaving me at the mercy of my captors.

One of the guards wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me from the ground. With the help of the other, he shoved me in the cell, closing the door with a loud click. I was still spitting curses when the younger guard pressed his face against the bars and leered at me. Just the look in his eyes made me swallow hard.

I’d heard rumors of a darkness spreading over the land, whispers of the Dark Axis, but I’d never seen it up close. The guard wanted to hurt me, would take pleasure in it. Whether it was him or the darkness, I couldn’t say, but his grin made my skin crawl.

The older guard called him away, and I let out the breath I was holding. Within moments, the carriage started moving, the wheels slowly crunching over the gravel road. As they made the loop to get going in the right direction, I gripped the bars in both hands and stared down the lane at the only home I’d ever known. It was going to be okay. Spencer would find Deirdre and Mama would get me out. I didn’t ruin my entire life with one stupid spell. I had to believe that. “I’ll see you again soon,” I promised, watching until the farm became nothing more than a small dot in the distance as they drove away.