Chapter 5 - Ashby

One minute, the world felt small and tattered, its edges fraying and falling away into darkness, forcing Ashby to shrink in order to keep his footing and avoid dropping into the abyss. The next, he could breathe, expand and see beyond the unraveling border.

Desperately, he clawed his way out, rising toward sound and light. And then . . .

He’d heard them, heard her, his mother: a creature more treacherous than he could have imagined. She had said she was a . . . Ripper!

Even in his dazed state, Ashby tried to deny it. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t! She was supposed to carry the mark of Regent. Nothing else. The Ripper caste was supposed to be a myth. Ashby only remembered it from his childhood lessons because, at the time, the concept of such a caste had appalled him. Like a monster from a fairy tale.

“You’re . . . you’re a Ripper?” Ashby asked again, his voice cracking at the end.

Danata whirled at the sound of his accusing question. “Ashby!” She rushed to his side and clutched him in a tight embrace. He didn’t, couldn’t resist her and simply sat there, arms limp at his sides, eyes drifting to Veridan.

“How do you feel?” Danata asked, finally pulling away. Her face looked twisted with worry and something else, something Ashby had never seen in her features. What? He couldn’t tell.

“I . . .” he started in a gravelly voice, then his thoughts scurried away as a dizzy spell came over him. He blinked, trying to remember what he’d been about to say, what his mother had asked, why he was here. “I don’t know.” Ashby recoiled toward the headboard, away from his mother. “What happened? Where . . . ?” He searched his mind. There was an important question he needed to ask, but—

Then it hit him. “Where is Sam?!” he exclaimed. At the mention of the name, her beautiful face flashed before him and his chest clenched in pain. “Where is she?!” he demanded, his breathing so agitated that his ribcage felt ready to burst open.

“You have been through a lot, son. Please relax. I will explain.”

Ashby’s panic morphed to terror before Danata finished her sentence. “Sam!” he said in short gasps. “I . . . I can’t . . . I can’t—”

“Shhh, don’t worry. When you’ve recovered, I will explain everything.”

Explain? Explain what? What happened?

What? What? What?!

His thoughts raced and tripped and picked themselves up again, and . . . and . . .

“You did something!” he said, eyes wide, the memory of his last conscious moments coming back to him. The word Ripper flashing in his mind like a sign spelling, “NO RETURN” in huge, neon letters. “You did something to us!”

“Calm down, Ashby. Please.” She put a hand out in a pacifying gesture.

Veridan cocked an eyebrow and looked at Danata as if he’d never seen her before, and perhaps he hadn’t—not this reasonable, motherly woman. That woman did not exist. Ashby had never met her either.

“Don’t touch me. Keep away from me.” He angrily slapped at her hand and shrank back, horror mounting, mounting, mounting inside of him. “Sam! Sam, where are you?” His hoarse voice rang inside the room with the timbre of anguish-ridden pain.

He scrambled out of bed on the other side. The red satin sheet tangled around his legs, and he fell to his knees. He tried to stand, but fell again.

“Stop, you will hurt yourself,” Danata commanded.

Ashby clenched his teeth and aimed all his strength to his trembling legs. They shook violently, but he managed to stand. Staggering, he headed for the door, his only garment a pair of loose underpants.

“Sam! Sam!” He cried his Companion’s name, howling against the aimlessness, the brokenness he felt inside.

He stumbled into Veridan, who regarded him as if he was a bug scrambling in the dirt. Ashby pushed away, spinning, disoriented.

“Calm down,” Danata yelled.

Ashby caught sight of his mother’s red face, the face that must be so familiar to anyone who knew her. Anger, the uncontrollable kind, the destroy-everyone-around-you kind. The crimson scowl was the first sign of the onslaught to follow. Ashby didn’t care, not when the fraying blackness he thought he’d left behind was creeping right back into place.

Terror fueled him forward when his legs could not. He aimed for the door once more.

“Do something, Veridan,” Danata ordered as Ashby reached the door knob.

“Family counseling is not my area of expertise,” the Sorcerer put in.

“Do something, now!”

Veridan heaved a sigh of resignation. “Very well.”

There was a crackle, then a ball of red light enveloped Ashby’s hand. The lock fell into place with a definite click.

“SAM!” Ashby clawed at the door. He turned, pressed his back against the cold wood to stop from collapsing. “Let me out!”

Danata yelled at Veridan, “I meant for you to subdue him.”

“I thought you wanted him awake,” Veridan said, his words infused with sarcasm.

“Awake, yes. But this . . .” She extended a hand demonstratively.

“Fine.” Veridan approached Ashby, a hand on his amulet.

“No, leave me alone,” Ashby yelled.

Why? Why had this happened to him?

A quick spell left the Sorcerer’s lips. Mid-blink, Ashby’s body went rigid. He tried to scream, but his mouth was sealed shut. A damask chair skidded from a corner of the room and worked itself under him.

Veridan took a few steps back. “He’s all ears.”

“Thank you,” Danata said, though there was no gratitude in her tone.

She came closer and stood in front of Ashby. “If you want an explanation now, you shall have it, but you have to calm down.” Danata waited, eyebrows raised.

Ashby fought against the heaviness in his limbs, but all he could move were his eyes. They darted around desperately, partly looking for an escape, partly looking for Sam, as if she could be found in the dim corners of the room.

It took a moment of struggle for Ashby to realize resistance was futile. When he did, he squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths. His chest rose up and down, slowing with each new intake of air. When his mind cleared, he opened his eyes once more, trying to look rational, even as panic made itself comfortable right beside him.

“Good,” Danata said. “I’m glad to see there’s strength in you. You will need it.” She fidgeted with the large, emerald ring on the middle finger of her left hand. “I will go straight to the point. The reason why you cannot sense the girl anymore is because I severed your vinculum.”

Ashby felt as if he could crumple to the floor, but Veridan’s spell kept him upright in the chair. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled onto his face. So it was true. She was a Ripper.

No no no!

His mother wasn’t only a monster. She was the most despicable creature on earth. She had done this to him. She had created the black hole in his chest, the vast nothingness that threatened to fold him into himself over and over, until there was nothing but a speck of dust left behind.

All is lost. Death would be better than this.

Danata went on. “You are not connected to her anymore. You don’t need her and may do as you please, without hindrance from anyone.”

Did the vicious harpy actually think this would please him? She was a psychopath, an empty husk incapable of feeling. Ashby’s gaze fell to the floor, the idea of ending his misery becoming more and more real.

“That girl wasn’t worth your while, Ashby. This is a good thing,” she said patiently, as if she were explaining the benefits of brushing his teeth every night, and not the fact that she’d torn apart the life Fate had designed for him.

He stared at the elaborate pattern of the rug, remembering how it had felt to love Sam, the exuberance in his heart, the passion in his veins when he kissed her, the promise that the future held. Now, there was nothing, only a hole brimming with broken dreams.

All was lost: his innocence, his love, his hope.

“What I did was harsh, I know, but I did it for your own good. You were too blind to see what was right in front of you.” Danata was saying. “That girl might have been your Companion, but that didn’t make her love you. Where is she now? Did you find her by your side when you awoke? Did she watch over you these past two months, hoping you would recover?”

Ashby’s attention snapped back to the moment. He squinted and stared at Danata, silently demanding to be allowed to speak.

“Remove the silencing spell, Veridan,” she ordered.

The Sorcerer waved a hand in a wide arc and murmured a few words. Ashby’s mouth tingled and fell open. He swallowed and licked his lips, throat aching.

“Better?” Danata asked. “Good. We’re making progress. Now, ask me whatever you want. I promise I’ll be truthful.”

Did she honestly think he would believe her promises after what she had done to him? Could she not imagine the pyre of hatred igniting inside of him? Could she not see the conflagration in the place his heart would have been had she not gashed it out?

“How long have I been unconscious?” Ashby asked, voice breaking with the desire to scream.

“Two months. In my experience, the subject is able to withstand the . . . separation much better than you did, but I suppose your link to the girl was rather strong.”

The subject.

The girl.

Somewhat strong.

Danata’s words echoed in Ashby’s mind, repeating, repeating, repeating, until a deeper meaning became clear.

She had done this to others.

“You did this to Uncle Bernard!” The conversation he’d overheard when he first woke up came rushing back to Ashby.

“He’s not important right now, son. What matters is that, apart from your short display of hysterics, you seem to be in control of your faculties. Hopefully, enough to realize who is on your side here. Obviously, not the girl.” Danata looked around the room as a way of pointing out Sam’s absence.

The thought of Uncle Bernard lingered for a moment, then vanished. This knowledge was more than he could handle. His own life was in shambles. There was nothing he could do for anyone else.

Sam. Sam was what mattered. The person who was nothing but “the girl” to Danata, a nuisance, an obstacle to her schemes—whatever they might be.

Ashby’s connection to his Companion had been unique, strong enough that, with time, Sam would have learned to keep Greg in his proper place. In the end, they would have been happy.

But now . . . all was gone.

Another thought occurred to him, paralyzing him. If the link he had shared with his Sam had been strong enough to leave him unconscious, what, then, had happened to Sam? His heart tightened with dread, fearing the worse.

“Where is she?! What did you do to her?” he demanded. “Sent her to Modena House like you did your sister?” Ashby felt ill with disgust. She had also done this to her own sister.

Danata ignored the accusation. “I, for once, did nothing. The girl, on the other hand, made her disregard for you blatantly clear. She didn’t fall to the floor unconscious as you did. Clearly your bond to her was fiercer than hers to you.

“I swear to you she left Rothblade Castle unharmed. Portos helped Samantha and the Keeper escape. Then he, himself, disappeared. The girl didn’t even look back, as you lay on the floor with no one but me by your side, too stricken to notice her defection.”

“You lie,” Ashby said.

“Veridan and others can confirm what I’ve just said. You can ask anyone. I won’t stop you.” Danata lifted her chin, looking hurt and dignified at the same time.

“You lie,” Ashby repeated more loudly. “You did something to them!”

“All three of them? Really, Ashby? You think I would hurt Portos? He was the High Sorcerer, until he defected and joined the MORF faction. You know he is—well, was—beloved by everyone. Hurting him would have been a stupid political decision on my part. Think about it, son. Would I want to turn the council’s scrutiny my way? They would have my head if they thought I have hurt their dear Portos.”

Ashby shook his head repeatedly. “She wouldn’t leave me. And, if Portos helped her, it’s because you’re crazy, because you would do this to your own son, to your sister. I don’t believe you,” he yelled, heart pounding in his throat.

Danata tsked and gave a sympathetic chuckle. “My poor son, you don’t even know the half of it. Do you know what the girl’s mark is?”

From the look in Danata’s eye, Ashby knew that what she’d say next would finish the job. He clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. She was aware the significance of Sam’s mark was a mystery to him, but she meant to change that. Her cruelty was boundless.

“She is a Weaver, Ashby. A Weaver! Imagine that.” Danata began to pace, shaking her head as she went. “You do remember from your lessons what a Weaver is, don’t you?”

Ashby’s insides began to tremble.

A Weaver. No no no.

He did remember his lessons.

It can’t be.

Ashby felt his heart bleed. So this was the reason Danata’s look of satisfaction was so immense. This was the bit of knowledge her cruelty found so delectable.

“She is my antithesis, son. I’m a Ripper. She is a Weaver. She can undo any just act I see fit to perform.”

“‘Just’?! Spare me your hypocrisy.”

Danata continued undeterred. “She could have tried to help you, but she never even attempted it. Instead, she abandoned you, left you on the cold stone floor, broken and helpless, proving she doesn’t care for you. Not one iota.”

“No,” Ashby said in a feeble voice.

There had to be an explanation. Sam wouldn’t have abandoned him. She would have helped him, would have done something.

Then it came to him. “Wait, you are lying. She didn’t know what she was.” He felt vindicated, almost hopeful. “If she had known, she would have—”

“Oh, she knew,” Danata interrupted. “She knew,” she repeated with relish. “She had no trouble whatsoever using her power. She used it on Bernard. She healed him and now he is missing, too.”

More tears rolled down Ashby’s cheeks, unchecked. His chin fell to his chest while a chant of denial played on a loop inside his head.

It’s not true. It’s not true. It’s not true.

But he had overheard Danata and Veridan discussing this when they thought he was unconscious.

“Like I said, son, you can ask anyone you please. Everything I’ve told you is true. Now,” she approached the chair and knelt next to it, placing a hand on his knee. “I want you to rest and recover your strength. I have many affairs to attend, and now that my mind is at ease knowing my son and successor is well, I can do so. In my worry for you, I’ve left matters unattended longer than it was prudent. Now rest. The doctor will be in shortly to make you comfortable.” She stood and gestured to Veridan, and with that they left the room.

With a flick of the Sorcerer’s hand, the chair scooted out of the way, carrying Ashby along. He remained frozen on the spot even after Veridan’s immobilizing spell wore off. What reason was there to move or even breathe? His mother had gashed out his heart and now it was given back to him into a million fragments.

All was really lost.