Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

I lift this last one out, the wrapping falls free and I realize I hold the separate parts of a richly made ensemble in my arms.
    The shin-length pleated skirt flows black with two wide rows of brightly colored ribbon sewn at the bottom, red and green. The cloth — Northland, perhaps — is soft in my hands, thick and warm. The matching forest-green vest is tailored to be form-fitting. Embroidered flowers and leaves cascade down the front and flow along the hem in an exquisite interplay of reds and yellows, a touch of black and white bringing the design into further relief. Beneath these , I find a simple white blouse with full sleeves. Put together, the dress would be stunning. It’s meant for high ceremony, weddings and the like, handed down from mother to daughter.
    Something falls free from the blouse as I hold it up and thuds to the floor. Laying the various parts of the dress gently over one of the remaining trunks, I stoop to retrieve the fallen pouch. Through its fabric I can feel the outlines of a book no bigger than my hand — and something else, wide and hard. Without giving myself time for second thoughts, I tug open the pouch. The book appears to be a diary of sorts. I close it quickly, then stare at its leather cover. These words weren’t written for me, and whatever the story of this dress, it isn’t mine to read, however much I want to know what it says.
    I make myself set the book down. Stormwind respected my few silences. I can do the same for her. Still, I slip my fingers back into the pouch and withdraw a large circular brooch that shines gold in the dim light of the loft. Many-petaled flowers follow its rim, each with a small ruby at the center. A far more ornate flower at the brooch’s heart holds a ruby nearly as large as my smallest fingernail. The dress may or may not be an heirloom, but this brooch certainly is.
    I carefully return the piece to its pouch along with the diary and wrap up the dress once more. I wonder if Stormwind ever wore these clothes herself. If I see her again — when I see her again — I’ll ask. After all, it’s not like I can put the trunk back together again. She’ll know what I’ve done. With a guilty grin, I pack the dress away with its pouch in one of the remaining trunks and carry the books down the ladder to the worktable.
    With the fire crackling cheerily in the hearth and the cottage brightened by glowstones, I can almost believe Stormwind is outside, taking a solitary walk, or perhaps gone to gaze into the lake. Almost.
    I lay the books out before me. Each concerns a different branch of magic: The Healer’s Compendium, Advanced Elemental Castings, Magical Wards and Defenses, The Transformation of Objects, and The Making and Breaking of Bonds.
    I’ve learned a great deal of healing magic and herbs from Stormwind. I suspect that her original training was as a healer-mage, though she’s never said as much. Perhaps it was long ago for her, a part of a life she left behind. At any rate, I don’t need more herb lore now.
    I flip open Advanced Elemental Castings and page through it. I’ve just finished Elemental Castings , its precursor . It took me nearly the whole year to work through the book, my progress agonizingly slow. Stormwind insisted that I perform each spell flawlessly before moving on to the next. Unfortunately, the blaze I welcomed into my core when I cast my sunbolt changed the balance of magical elements in my body. Fire comes naturally. Earth and air are a challenge, water even more so. Still, I made it through, completing the last of the spells this past week. No doubt Stormwind planned to bring out this book in the next few days.
    If I had a month, I would read Advanced Elemental Castings at once. I would take an additional hour daily for The Transformation of Objects and The Making and Breaking of Bonds. But I don’t know how much time I have, so I reach for Magical Wards and Defenses.
    I read into the night. The first two chapters cover