Ember in the Ashes continued. Saba Tahir

Saba Tahir

Torch in the night

How did they manage to find us so quickly?

Angry shouts and the clang of metal flew after us and echoed through the catacombs. Looking at the eerie grins of skulls lined in rows along the walls, I seemed to hear the voices of the dead.

“Faster,” they seemed to whisper. “If you don’t want to share our fate.”

“Faster, Laia,” urged Elias, who was running ahead. His armor gleamed in the dim light of the catacombs. “If we hurry, we’ll be able to get away from them.” I know a tunnel that will lead us to the city. If we manage to get there, we will be safe.

There was a creaking sound from behind, Elias quickly looked over my shoulder, and his hand, shining with a bronze tan, immediately reached for the sword hanging behind his back. There was so much danger lurking in such a simple movement. This reminded me that he was not just my guide. He is Elias Viturius, heir to one of the most noble families. A former mask, that is, one of the best soldiers of the Empire. And he is my ally, the only one who can rescue my brother Darin from the infamous Swordsmen prison.

Just one step and Elias was next to me. One more step - and he is already ahead. His movements were filled with amazing grace, despite his height and powerful muscles. We looked back at the tunnel we had just passed through. His pulse beat like a drum in his ears. There was no trace left of the passion that had gripped me after the destruction of Blackleaf Academy and the rescue of Elias. The Empire was after us. If we get caught, we're dead.

Sweat soaked through his shirt, but despite the suffocating heat of the catacombs, a chill ran through his skin and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. I thought I heard the growl of an unknown, but dangerous and hungry creature.

“Run,” my instinct screamed. “Get out of here quickly.”

“Elias,” I whispered, but he pressed his finger to my lips.

Then he took out one of his six chest knives. I pulled a dagger from my belt and strained my ears, trying to make out something besides the chirping of tarantulas and my own breathing. The disturbing feeling that we were being watched disappeared. But now we could smell the smells of tar and fire, which were a hundred times worse. Voices were heard, getting closer every minute.

Soldiers of the Empire.

Elias touched my shoulder and pointed to his legs, then to mine. Follow my footsteps. Then he turned around and quickly walked away. Carefully, almost without breathing, I followed him. We reached a fork and turned right. Elias slid into a deep, shoulder-high hole in the wall: there was nothing there but a huge stone coffin.

“Climb inside,” he whispered, “until the very end.”

I ducked into the crypt and immediately heard the creaking of a tarantula, a local inhabitant. I began to tremble, and the hilt of the sword hanging behind my back loudly clattered on the stones. I tried to pull myself together. Don’t make a fuss, Laya, no matter who’s crawling here, these are minor things.

Elias dived after me, with his height he had to bend over to his death. In the cramped crypt our hands touched. Elias's breathing became ragged, but when I looked at him, he was looking towards the tunnel. Even in the dim light, the gray eyes and hard lines of his face, to which I had not yet gotten used to, struck me to the core. Just an hour ago, when we were running away from Blackleaf, destroyed by my efforts, his features were hidden by a silver mask.

Bowing his head, he listened intently to the approaching footsteps of the soldiers. They walked quickly, their voices echoing in the stone corridors of the catacombs, reminiscent of the cries of birds of prey.

-...Perhaps he went south. If he has even a shred of sense left...

“If he had even a grain of reason left,” responded the second soldier, “he would have passed the Fourth Test and become Emperor, and we would not have to swear allegiance to this plebeian.”

The soldiers turned into our tunnel, one of them illuminated the neighboring crypt with a lantern.

- Crap! – he jumped back, looking inside.

Next was our crypt. Everything inside me clenched, the hand grasping the dagger trembled. Elias unsheathed another dagger. His shoulders relaxed and he held the knives freely, but then I saw his brows furrow and his jaw clenched, and my heart sank. Catching Elias's gaze, I saw for a moment his torment. He didn't want to kill these people.

However, if they find us, they will raise the alarm, the guards will come running to their call, and soon the Empire’s soldiers will fill the entire tunnel. I squeezed Elias' hand reassuringly. He pulled up his hood and covered his face with a black scarf.

Walking heavily, the soldier came closer. I could already smell him - the smell of sweat, steel and dirt. Elias tightened his grip on the knife's handle. He stood up all over, like a wild cat about to jump. I touched the bracelet, my mother’s gift. Tracing the familiar pattern with my fingers, I calmed down.

The flashlight beam stroked the edge of the crypt, the soldier lifted it... Suddenly, a dull thud was heard at the far end of the tunnel. The soldiers turned around and, baring their blades, ran towards the noise to find out what had happened. A few seconds later the light from the lanterns faded. The sound of footsteps gradually died down.

Elias exhaled heavily.

“Come on,” he called. – If a patrol is inspecting the area, there will be others. We need to find a way out.

As soon as we got out of the crypt, the walls of the tunnel began to tremble. Skulls fell to the floor, raising a cloud of centuries-old dust. I stumbled, Elias held me by the shoulder and pushed me against the wall. He snuggled next to me. The crypt remained intact, but ominous cracks crawled along the ceiling of the tunnel.

- What in the name of God was that?

- It looks like an earthquake. – Elias stepped forward and looked up. “But there are no earthquakes in Serra.”

Now we walked even faster. Every second I expected to hear the footsteps and voices of the guards, to see the lights of torches in the distance.

Elias suddenly stopped and I flew into his broad back. We found ourselves in a round burial hall with a low domed vault. Ahead, the tunnel forked in two. In one of the corridors, torches flickered in the distance, though too far away to discern anything. Crypts were hollowed out in the walls of the hall, each of which was guarded by a stone statue of a warrior dressed in armor. The skulls, crowned with helmets, looked at us with empty eye sockets. I shuddered and took a step towards Elias. But he did not look at the crypts, or the tunnels, or the torches in the distance. He did not take his eyes off the little girl standing in the middle of the hall. Dressed in rags, she pressed her hand to a bleeding wound on her side. I managed to notice the graceful features inherent in scribes, but when I tried to look into her eyes, the girl lowered her head, and strands of black hair fell onto her face. Poor thing. Tears left two tracks on dirty cheeks.

Ember in the Ashes - 1

At some point you realize that you cannot close this book without finishing it. Saba Tahir is a strong writer, but most importantly, she is a wonderful storyteller.

A mixture of The Hunger Games and Game of Thrones with a pinch of romance in the spirit of Romeo and Juliet.

“An Ember in the Ashes” is at the top of this year’s must-read list.

I was so engrossed in this book that I even missed my flight. Explosive, heartbreaking, epic debut. I hope the world is ready for Saba Tahir.

He deftly jumped over the window sill, silently stepping on his bare feet. Then a hot desert wind rushed in and rustled the curtains. His album fell to the floor, and with a quick movement he kicked it under the bed, like a snake.

Where have you been, Darin? In my mind, I mustered up the courage to ask him about it, and Darin responded by confiding in me. Where do you always disappear to? Why? After all, Pope and Nan need you so much. I need you.

Every night for almost two years I've been meaning to ask him about it. And every night I don't have the courage. Darin is the only one I have left. I don't want him to distance himself from me like he does from everyone else.

But today everything is different. I knew what was in his album. What does it mean.

You should sleep. - Darin’s whisper distracted me from my anxious thoughts. This almost cat-like instinct he got from his mother. He lit the lamp and I sat up in bed. It's no use pretending to be asleep.

The curfew had started long ago, the patrol had already passed three times. I was worried.

I know how to avoid getting caught by the soldiers, Laya. This is a matter of practice.

He rested his chin on my bed and smiled tenderly and mockingly, just like my mother. And he looked the way he usually does when I wake up from nightmares or when we run out of grain supplies. Everything will be fine, his eyes said. He took the book from my bed.

“Those who come at night,” he read the title. - It's creepy. What is it about?

I just started, about genies... - I stopped. Smart. Very clever. He loves hearing stories as much as I love telling them. - Forget. Where have you been? Pope saw at least a dozen patients this morning.

And I had to replace you, because he couldn’t have done it alone. And so Nan was forced to bottle the jam herself. But she didn’t have time. And now the merchant won’t pay us, and we will starve in the winter. And why, oh heavens, don't you care at all?

But I said all this mentally. The smile had already disappeared from Darin’s face.

“I’m not fit to be a healer,” he said. - And Pope knows about it.

I wanted to remain silent, but I remembered what Pope was like this morning, I remembered his shoulders, hunched as if under a heavy burden. And I thought about the album again.

Pope and Nan are depending on you. At least talk to them. More than one month has passed.

I thought he would say that I don’t understand. That she should leave him alone. But he just shook his head, lay down on his bunk of bed and closed his eyes, as if he didn’t want to bother himself with answers.

“I saw your drawings,” the words hastily left my lips.

Darin immediately jumped up, his face becoming inscrutable.

“I wasn’t spying,” I explained. - Just one leaf came off. I found it when I was changing the mats this morning.

Did you tell Nan or Pope? They saw?

No, but…

Laya, listen.

Ten circles of hell, I didn’t want to listen to anything! No excuses for him.

What you saw is dangerous,” Darin warned. - You shouldn't tell anyone about this.

My review can be safely dubbed . I am that rare person who came to admit that he did not like the book “An Ember in the Ashes”. I don’t know, maybe I got some other text, maybe a draft version, maybe a cheap Chinese copy, but I don’t share everyone’s enthusiasm.

There are theories that I did not like the book for two reasons: either the book is not mine, or high expectations played a cruel joke on me. I would like to refute them right away. The book is just mine, since YA and dystopia are my favorite genre. Because, as my good friend said, “It’s not yours, so you’re pissed off” doesn’t work in this case. There were expectations, of course, but they were not the reason for the low rating, since I did not evaluate them, but still the book.

I won’t dwell on the plot; if not everyone, then most certainly know it. I want to explain why I didn't like the book.

Heroes. He is strong, brave, handsome, the best graduate of Blackcliff Academy. He doesn’t like his fate, he wants to desert (which is punishable by death) and become free. Even his mask did not blend into the skin like others, because he is not like all Masks. She is a beauty, a sufferer, ready to sacrifice her life to save her brother. If not everyone, then almost everyone wants it, because it smells like sugar and fruit. And the parents are not just anyone, but the coolest leaders of the Militia in the last 500 years. Mary and Marty Sue, come out, I burned you. The secondary characters are written much better, they are more interesting (the same Helen Aquila). It's a pity that the story isn't about her.

Language. Quite simple, sometimes even primitive. Ridiculous and funny descriptions and comparisons where they are not needed, a complete lack of conveying the emotions and experiences of the characters, which left them like cardboard. Internal dialogues are more likely to make you smile. The number of mistakes is amazing: sometimes we have fresh bruises that had already healed a week ago in the previous chapter, sometimes the sun sets at night... And this is far from the limit. And the more mistakes like this you find, the angrier you get, and then you openly laugh. Maybe this is a comedy, but I don’t understand?

Plot. It’s immediately obvious how much he captured me if I paid attention to all possible mistakes. It wasn't until the last 100 pages that things really got interesting. Yes, there were some mistakes in them, but at least they weren’t so obvious.

Love line. Erase and write again. All these geometric shapes are more annoying than exciting. Moreover, here the triangle turned out to be not enough, and the author went even further. The main characters are completely unsuited to each other, but the author stubbornly pushes them together at the first opportunity and every time they all burn with passion. In any incomprehensible situation, especially in the most dangerous one, even though everyone is stronger.

World. Remained unsolved. I did not understand the system of the Empire, nor the goals of the Militia, nor the intrigues of the Prophets. I think this can be improved in the next books, but here everything is very raw.

And I also didn’t understand this fetish with SMELLS. But okay, to each his own.

Until recently, I couldn’t find anything good in the book, and I kept wondering whether it was possible to rate the novel a - point. As a result, the last 100 pages and Aquila gave Coal 2/5, I couldn’t put more, no matter how they assured me that the book was not as bad as I thought.

Sabaa Tahir

COMBER IN ASH

Part I Raid

My older brother returned home in the darkest hour before dawn, when ghosts are already resting. He smelled of steel, coal and forge. The enemy.

Where have you been, Darin? In my mind, I mustered up the courage to ask him about it, and Darin responded by confiding in me. Where do you always disappear to? Why? After all, Pope and Nan need you so much. I need you.

But today everything is different. I knew what was in his album. What does it mean.

The curfew had started long ago, the patrol had already passed three times. I was worried.

I know how to avoid getting caught by the soldiers, Laya. This is a matter of practice.

He rested his chin on my bed and smiled tenderly and mockingly, just like my mother. And he looked the way he usually does when I wake up from nightmares or when we run out of grain supplies. Everything will be fine, his eyes said. He took the book from my bed.

“Those who come at night,” he read the title. - It's creepy. What is it about?

But I said all this mentally. The smile had already disappeared from Darin’s face.

“I’m not fit to be a healer,” he said. - And Pope knows about it.

I wanted to remain silent, but I remembered what Pope was like this morning, I remembered his shoulders, hunched as if under a heavy burden. And I thought about the album again.

Pope and Nan are depending on you. At least talk to them. More than one month has passed.

“I saw your drawings,” the words hastily left my lips.

Darin immediately jumped up, his face becoming inscrutable.

“I wasn’t spying,” I explained. - Just one leaf came off. I found it when I was changing the mats this morning.

Did you tell Nan or Pope? They saw?

No, but…

Laya, listen.

Ten circles of hell, I didn’t want to listen to anything! No excuses for him.

What you saw is dangerous,” Darin warned. - You shouldn't tell anyone about this. Never. Because it threatens not only me, but also others...

Are you working for the Empire, Darin? Do you serve the swordsmen?

He said nothing. I thought I saw the answer in his eyes, and it made me feel sick. Did my brother betray his own people? Is my brother on the side of the Empire?

If he secretly stored grain, sold books or taught children to read, I would understand. I would be proud of him for being able to do things that I wouldn't have the courage to do. The Empire organizes raids, puts people in prison and even kills for such “crimes,” but teaching six-year-olds to read and write is not at all evil in the minds of my people, the scribes. However, what Darin did was bad. This is betrayal.

The Empire killed our parents,” I whispered. - Our sister.

I wanted to scream at him, but the words became a lump in my throat.

The Swordbearers conquered the lands of the scribes five hundred years ago, and since then they have done nothing but oppress our people and turn us into slaves. The Empire of Scribes was once famous for having the best universities and richest libraries in the world. Nowadays, many scribes would not be able to distinguish a school from an armory.

How could you side with the swordsmen? How, Darin?!

It's not what you think, Laia. I'll explain everything, but...

My brother suddenly stopped short, and when I asked about the promised explanation, he waved his hand, calling for silence. He turned to the window. Pope's snoring could be heard through the thin walls. You could hear Nan tossing and turning in her sleep, and pigeons cooing sadly outside the window. Familiar sounds. Home sounds. But Darin picked up on something else. His face turned pale, fear flashed in his eyes.

Laya,” he said. - Raid.

But if you work for the Empire... Why then would the soldiers raid us?

Then he walked out the door, leaving me alone. I could barely move. My bare feet suddenly became weak, my arms became numb. Hurry up, Laia!

The Empire usually carried out raids in broad daylight. The soldiers wanted everything to happen in front of the women and children of the scribes. So that neighbors can see how someone's fathers and brothers are being deprived of their freedom. But no matter how terrible the daytime raids seemed, the night ones were even worse. They were arranged when the Empire did not want to leave witnesses.

I thought, is this real? Maybe this is a nightmare? No, everything is really happening, Laia. So get moving!

I threw the album out of the window into the hedge. Not a very reliable hiding place, but I didn't have time to find another one. Nan limped into my room. Her hands, so confident when she stirred the jam in the vats or braided my hair, darted in despair, like mad birds. Hurry up!

She pulled me into the corridor. Darin and Pope stood at the back door. Grandfather's gray hair was disheveled and stuck out like a haystack, his clothes were wrinkled, but there was no sign of sleep on his wrinkled face. He said something quietly to Darin, and then handed him Nan's largest kitchen knife. I don’t know why - against the blades of swordsmen forged from Serrac steel, the knife was absolutely useless.

Leave with Darin through the backyard,” Nan’s gaze darted from window to window. - Until they surrounded the house.

No no no.

Nan,” I gasped, stumbling as she pushed me towards Pope.

Hide at the eastern end of the block... - the grandmother suddenly stopped, not taking her eyes off one of the windows. Through the worn curtains I caught the vague outline of a silver face. Everything inside me tightened.

“Mask,” Nan gasped. - They brought a mask. Run, Laya. Until they entered the house.

But what will happen to you? With Pope?

We'll stop them. - Pope gently pushed me towards the door. - Keep your secrets, my love. Listen to Darin. He will take care of you. Run.

My brother's shadow covered me. The door slammed behind us and he took my hand. Darin crouched, disappearing into the warm night, moving silently through the shifting sand of the backyard with a confidence that I, unfortunately, sorely lacked. And although I am already seventeen and old enough to cope with fear, I still grabbed his hand like a saving straw.

Darin said he doesn't work for them. Then who does he work for?

Somehow he managed to get close to Serra's forges and was able to sketch in detail how the Empire's most valuable asset is made: indestructible curved blades that can cut three people with one blow.

Five hundred years ago, the Scribe Empire fell to the swordsmen, primarily because our swords were too fragile against their superior steel. And during all this time we have not made any progress in blacksmithing. Sword-bearers keep their secret as carefully as a miser guards his gold. Anyone caught near the city's forge without good reason - be it a scribe or a swordsman - risks their life. If Darin wasn't working for the Empire, how did he get so close to Serra's forges? And how did the swordsmen know about his album?

There was a knock on the front door. The crash of boots and the clanking of steel were heard. I looked around in fear, expecting to see the silver armor and red cloaks of the Empire legionnaires, but the courtyard was empty. Despite the coolness of the night, sweat rolled down my neck. In the distance, I heard the beating of drums coming from Blackleaf, the military academy where future masks were trained. From these sounds my fear intensified and it was like a needle pierced my heart. The Empire does not send these silver-faced monsters on an ordinary roundup.

Saba Tahir

Ember in the ashes

Kashi, who proved that my spirit is stronger than fear