Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three) Read Online Free

she invoked.
    There was a howl as the mannequin on the far right suddenly burst into flames, at first blue then a deep red. The heat was intense and Waylian had to shield his eyes from the conflagration as the mannequin took, but as quickly as they surged towards the sky, the flames died, leaving nothing but charred wood behind.
    A smile broke on Waylian’s lips. Perhaps they had a fighting chance after all. Perhaps they could beat the Khurtas if this was the power available to even an apprentice magister. But his optimism was immediately dashed as he heard the girl gurgling as though she were being throttled.
    Drennan rushed towards her as she collapsed to her knees, her hand letting go of the charcoal which dropped to the ground and rolled across the courtyard. She began to shake convulsively. Her eyes no longer white, but blank and staring at the sky, white froth gathering at the corners of her mouth.
    ‘Fetch the apothecary,’ Drennan barked, as he held the girl close. Waylian could only watch, surprised at the Archmaster’s compassion as he cradled the girl in his arms. It was a side of Drennan Folds he had not seen and Waylian suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Not so long ago, at Gelredida’s order, Waylian had helped kidnap Drennan’s son. It had seemed necessary then; Drennan would never have pledged himself to Gelredida’s cause otherwise, but now he saw something different in the Archmaster that made him regret what he’d done. Where Drennan had previously seemed a ball of pent-up fury now he was all kindness and concern. It was enough to make Waylian feel sympathy for him.
    ‘She clearly didn’t bond fully with her prosopopoeia. The resulting divagation from the Veil often leads to an abhorrent concomitant.’
    Waylian turned at the voice, seeing another apprentice standing beside him. The youth was reed-thin with lank, greasy hair swept back from a prominent forehead, and a pair of eyeglasses on his pointy nose.
    ‘Eh?’ Waylian replied.
    The apprentice regarded him curiously. ‘You are aware of the transmutations undergone during preternatural importunement, aren’t you?’
    Of course you’re bloody not, Grimmy.
    ‘Of course I am,’ Waylian replied.
    By now Drennan had taken it upon himself to lift the girl in his arms and rush towards the base of the tower to find the apothecary for himself.
    ‘I take it you’re here for instruction like the rest of us?’ asked the apprentice.
    ‘Er … no,’ said Waylian, glancing around for any sign of his mistress, but there was none. ‘I’m waiting for someone.’
    ‘Really? A little young to have mastered your Craft, aren’t you?’
    Waylian shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I’m just apprenticed to …’
Magistra Gelredida. The Red Witch. Who treats you like her handmaid. Who keeps you away from the rest of these apprentices who are learning to master their Art so they can be of use in the fight to come, while you run errands.
‘… a magister with particular needs.’
    ‘I see,’ said the apprentice, though Waylian had no idea how he could possibly
see
. ‘You’ll be apprenticed to Magistra Gelredida then.’
Or maybe he could
. ‘Which would make you Waylian Grimm.’
    ‘It would,’ Waylian replied, holding out his hand. ‘And you are?’
    ‘Aldrich Mundy,’ the apprentice replied, looking down at Waylian’s proffered hand as though it were a bloody knife. ‘And there’ll be no need for that. The hands carry a plenitude of bacteria. They’re best kept to oneself.’
    ‘Suit yourself,’ Waylian said, disliking his new acquaintance more with every passing moment.
    They stood for a while in awkward silence as Waylian thought desperately of something to say. For his part, Aldrich was quite content not to speak, seeming to enjoy the lack of conversation. Waylian opened his mouth to say something, not quite knowing what, when a familiar voice hailed him from across the courtyard.
    ‘Waylian, come along,’ said Magistra Gelredida, as