steel and fire 03 - dance of steel

by rivet, jordan

  “It’s dark out there,” Tech said.

  “Take a damn light.”

  “Charn has the Everlight on watch,” Tech said.

  “Did it occur to you that Charn’s the one making the noise?” Resha said.

  “That you, Charn?” Tech called, his voice sounding a little thin.

  “Maybe it ate him already,” Siv said. “Cullmorans have really big teeth. I have a scar from one on my arm. Want to see it, Tech?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’d never lie to you,” Siv lied.

  “Where’s the scar?”

  Tech shifted a little closer to Siv on his right-hand side. Could he risk making a move when Tech came within reach? He still didn’t know where Charn was.

  The rustling sound came again. Tech stopped moving. Silence surrounded them for a half a heartbeat. Then there was an almighty shout, and footsteps crashed out of the brush.

  “Look out!”

  “To your weapons!”

  “Argh!”

  Commotion erupted around them, all the sounds garbled. Siv wasted no time. He rolled onto his back and aimed a kick at where he thought Tech’s knees were. His feet collided with something solid. The general chaos masked Tech’s pained exclamation. Siv quickly flipped over and rolled the other way to where he estimated Chala had been. Though he didn’t time it perfectly, he managed to barrel into the man’s legs and send him crashing to the ground.

  Steel clashed, and the sounds of a fight rioted around Siv. There had to be half a dozen men around the campfire now, their curses and shouts filling the air.

  Siv scrambled for a grip on Chala, who was trying to stand up and flee. He couldn’t do much with his hands and feet tied, but he could at least make it harder for the man to escape. He rolled on top of him and brought his knees up, digging them into the man’s stomach. Chala grunted and cursed, finally managing to force Siv off of him.

  “She stabbed me!” Tech hollered through the din. “I need help!”

  She? Dara was here! He knew it! Siv got in one more good kick before Chala scrambled out of his reach. The sound of something metal hitting the ground accompanied his grunt. That was what Siv had been waiting for. He gave up trying to hold onto Chala and felt around for the knife the man had dropped. Chala was a drinker and gambler, not a fighter, but Siv knew he’d had a knife in his hand. Dirt, rocks, and leaves met his fingers. It had to be here somewhere.

  The fight raged around the campfire, the clang of steel and voices filling the air. It sounded as if his captors were putting up a good fight. Damned if Siv was going to let Dara save him again without his help!

  His fingers closed on cold steel. He had the knife! He stretched around and sawed through the bonds on his ankles. Someone stumbled nearer to him, and he tossed out a rapid kick as he went to work on his wrists. The sack still covered his head.

  “Here she comes again!” someone yelled.

  Damn it! Dara was going to get all the bad guys before Siv even had a chance to fight. Maneuvering the knife with his hands tied proved difficult, especially when he couldn’t see. He nicked his wrist as he finally managed to cut through the rope. With a triumphant yell he ripped the sack off his head and leapt to his feet.

  Cloaked figures darted around a clearing in a dense wood. Burning brands spread across the ground where someone had kicked the campfire. Steel flashed in the firelight. Tech was on his knees, perhaps unable to stand, savagely waving a short sword at a muscular, broadsword-wielding opponent. An athletic female figure was engaged in a vicious duel with Resha on the opposite side of the scattered fire. Siv barely had time to take in all the details before Charn leapt out of the darkness and rushed at him, short sword raised.

  Siv ducked and drove his shoulder into Charn’s stomach. The man flipped right over him, managing to get an arm around his neck as he fell. Siv landed on top of him and rolled, trying to avoid Charn’s blade. His limbs were shaky from being tied up for so long. He lost his grip on his knife, and it dropped to the ground, lost in the darkness.

  They grappled in the dirt, both trying to gain control of Charn’s short sword. Siv threw punches whenever he could, ignoring the twinge of pain in his wrists. Pins and needles shot through his limbs.

  Charn performed another sneaky flip move and ended up on Siv’s back with his arms wrapped around his head. He tightened his hold, beginning to cut off his air supply. Siv rolled, trying to squash Charn beneath him. He couldn’t quite get a grip on him. The man was as slippery as a panviper.

  A sudden heat near Siv’s arm warned him they were too close to the remnants of the campfire. He rolled the other way, managing to loosen Charn’s headlock at last. Siv scrambled around, getting on top of his opponent before Charn could get him in another clinch. Siv reared back and landed a few good punches. Charn seemed momentarily stunned, and Siv laid into him, hammering his face with both fists.

  An instant later Siv was flying through the air. He hit the ground with a painful thud. Charn had thrown him, catching him off balance while he wailed away at his face. Sneaky bastard. Before Siv could figure out which way was up, Charn leapt on top of him again. This time he had his short sword.

  Siv grabbed desperately for the cross guard as Charn drove the blade toward his throat. The sword was shorter than Siv’s arms, but the tip hovered dangerously close to his neck. It took all Siv’s strength to hold Charn back. Then the man uttered a guttural snarl and threw his weight on top of the blade.

  Siv twisted to the side at the last instant, allowing the blade to slice straight past his neck and into the ground beneath him. The sudden shift threw Charn off balance, and all his weight came down atop the hilt, bringing his head so close that Siv could have kissed him.

  Instead, Siv snaked his arms around Charn’s neck and pulled one of the knives from the harness on his back. He sliced it across Charn’s jugular before the man had time to pull back.

  Charn’s eyes widened as his blood spurted out over Siv’s chest. Then he collapsed on top of him, his last breath leaving his body along with his blood.

  The world was utterly quiet for a moment, and all Siv could hear was the beat of his own heart. He was alive! What a pleasant surprise that was.

  He shoved Charn’s body off of him and got shakily to his feet.

  “See, I’m not totally incapable of taking care of myself, Dara,” he said, striking a relaxed pose and turning toward his favorite swordswoman.

  But the woman cleaning Resha’s blood off her blade wasn’t his Dara after all. Dara was nowhere to be seen in the clearing. Instead, four complete strangers turned toward Siv, standing over the bodies of his erstwhile captors. Every single one had a weapon in hand.

  19.

  Storm Clouds

  DARA wondered what Vine would do if she left her behind. It was tempting. Vine had been leading them over the Truren plains for days, weaving back and forth across the windswept land whenever she felt the Air urging her to turn. It was taking twice the time it should to travel this distance. Their meandering path had led them across miles upon miles of farmland, followed by miles upon miles of wilderness.

  They were back to farmland again. Occasionally they’d encounter farmers or other riders and ask for information, but no one had seen a man matching Siv’s description. The strangers were all curious about the two women traveling alone with nothing but two horses and a cur-dragon for company. Rumy tried to fly away whenever they met other travelers, but sometimes there was nowhere to hide. The plains offered little cover.

  Dara probably could have traveled through Trure without drawing too much notice, but Vine sat her horse like a lady, and her elaborately embroidered clothes drew all the attention Dara had been hoping to avoid. Vine also had an unfortunate habit of stopping to chat amiably with everyone they encountered, sometimes for half an hour at a time. Dara grew increasingly nervous that whoever had kidnapped Siv would hear about the two women asking questions. And her father still may have sent men out to find her. She could be
in as much danger as Siv was.

  Maybe Dara should set out alone after all. She’d have no idea which way to go, but she was beginning to think Vine didn’t know either.

  “The Air is not a slave to any woman’s wishes,” Vine had said when Dara asked whether she thought this strategy was working on the third day outside of Rallion City.

  “I thought you could ask things of it,” Dara grumbled.

  “I have asked. I have been bringing my supplications to the Air each morning when I wake, and it is helping to guide our steps for the day.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “I first learned to commune with the Air many years ago,” Vine said.

  Dara sighed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “You met Meza. You saw what the Sensors did with the water. Surely you don’t doubt it still.”

  “They did something, all right,” Dara said. “They moved a bit of water. You’re trying to find a missing person. That’s a little different.”

  “It is all the same to the Air,” Vine said.

  She had resumed staring across the plains without seeing them, letting the breeze flow through her hair, and communing with the uncooperative Air. Dara had gone back to doing footwork across the dirt and trying not to make eye contact with her horse.

  When they weren’t riding, Dara kept up with her training. She had fully recovered after the Fire fight, and she was regaining her former fitness level. The clean slices of her blade and the pulse of her feet on the earth soothed her worries about what could be happening to Siv. They used Rumy’s dragon fire to build campfires in the chilly evenings, but she avoided touching the flickers of true Fire within it. She wasn’t ready to embrace that power again yet. She focused on the practical aspects of their travel as much as possible and on ensuring that she would never be made weak again.

  On the afternoon of their fifth day since leaving Rallion City, they stopped beside an old stone stable to eat lunch. The roof of the structure had caved in, and plants grew wild within it. After a lunch of flatbread and jerky, Vine perched atop the stone wall with her legs crossed to meditate. Rumy napped in the dirt beneath her, and Goldenflower and Storm grazed nearby on long leads.

  Dara felt uneasy, though she wasn’t sure why. She scanned the plains around them. The road they’d been following that day curved toward the south. She thought she saw buildings to the southeast, but it was hard to tell across the hazy expanse. The dark smudge of a grove of trees was visible to the northwest. She felt exposed in this wide, flat land. She missed the dramatic peaks of Vertigon. There was nothing like standing on a bridge over the Fissure and being able to see all the way to the Burnt Mountains.

  Storm clouds gathered in the north now, ominous and heavy. She shivered, though it wasn’t nearly as cold as Vertigon at this time of year. It must be almost midwinter. Tomorrow, Siv would have been gone for a full week. Her heart gave a painful stutter at the thought. She clutched the pendant in her fist and pushed away the anxiety. She had to focus on the task at hand.

  She turned in a slow circle, alert for signs of trouble. Vine claimed she’d be able to Sense danger through the Air, but Dara had the sneaking sensation they were being followed. The feeling had lasted for days now, but she hadn’t yet seen any evidence that her worries were founded. The open land didn’t seem like a place where someone could follow them easily. She shrugged off the feeling. Those storm clouds presented a different, more-immediate problem.

  Vine still perched atop the stable wall. She gave no sign of stirring from her meditation. Her hands rested on the knees of her embroidered trousers, and she breathed steadily, eyes closed, as the wind ruffled her hair.

  “Are you almost ready?” Dara asked when she couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Hmm? Oh, hello, Dara.” Vine blinked slowly at her.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No . . . not at the moment.”

  Something in her tone made Dara pause. “What do you mean?”

  “This is becoming rather challenging,” Vine said. “I do love a good challenge. Only . . .”

  “What?”

  Vine frowned and combed her fingers through her long hair. “Well, I’m finding it harder to grasp onto him than before,” she said.

  “What are you saying?”

  “The Air doesn’t want to cooperate.”

  “Are you . . .” Dara swallowed hard. “Are you sure he’s still alive?”

  “I do hope so, Dara. It would be a shame to come all this way if he wasn’t.”

  Abruptly, Dara had had enough. She gripped Vine by the arms and hauled her off the low stone wall. Rumy started up from his nap and scrambled a few feet away.

  “I need you to be more specific,” Dara said, making Vine look her in the eyes. “We can’t keep wandering around like this. Can you find him or not?”

  “Dara, you have so much tension in you sometimes,” Vine said. “Have you considered—”

  “Vine!”

  “Okay.” Vine sighed, slumping against the rock wall. “I’m . . . I’m not sure. I thought I could use the Air well enough to do this, but for the past few days I haven’t been sure whether I was following the trail or merely wanting to follow it.”

  Dara fought against a sudden constricting fear in her chest. She had to stay calm. “Explain.”

  “It’s an imprecise feeling, Dara. I know a bit about how the Fire works, so I understand you must be expecting more clarity, but the Air just isn’t the same. You have to trust the feelings and yourself. I’m afraid of messing up because I know this is important. It’s making me lose confidence, and the Air respects confidence.” Vine’s brown eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to let you down. That makes it even harder to get centered.”

  Dara sighed and released Vine’s shoulders. She understood what it was like to struggle to control a power. She’d had an especially hard time Working without using her hands. Zage Lorrid had been a patient teacher, but it took her a while to grow accustomed to the mysterious connection with the Fire that allowed her to Work with her mind alone. It had required a different kind of diligence than dueling—and the confidence of a long-suffering instructor.

  Vine was trying to help. Dara shouldn’t blame her for her difficulties, even though she was worried they were running out of time to find Siv.

  “I’m sorry for snapping,” she said at last. “I’ve never known you to lose confidence in yourself. You’re Vine Silltine! You can do it.”

  “Thank you, Dara.” Vine sniffed and blinked back her tears. “I didn’t want to say anything. I wasn’t sure you’d understand, but it feels good to get it off my chest.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I feel much better now. I truly have no idea where we’re going!” And she waltzed back to her horse.

  Dara gaped at her. Fortunately, there was no Fire in the land here—otherwise she’d be tempted to set Vine’s hair alight. Dara swallowed her irritation, told Rumy it was time to go, and scrambled back into her saddle. Storm snorted but didn’t dance around beneath her as much as usual. Maybe she was getting the hang of riding at last. From the sounds of things, she and Vine would be stuck wandering through the wilderness for the rest of their lives. She might as well get comfortable on horseback.

  Gloom threatened to pull her under as they resumed their journey. Vine didn’t know where they were going, and the Air wasn’t helping. The trail—if there had ever been one in the first place—had gone cold. Siv was in the wind, and Dara didn’t know what to do next. She wished Vine hadn’t shared her misgivings after all. At least when she’d been pretending to know where she was going, there had been hope. What were they going to do now?

  The storm clouds amassing in the north grew darker, denser. Lightning spiked in the distance, striking more frequently as darkness fell. A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying hints of rain. With it came the familiar sensation that someone was watching them. Dara didn’t fancy spending another night sleeping in the m
ud. She felt on edge, and Vine wasn’t likely to make any progress on her Air Senses if she was exhausted. They needed shelter and a warm bed for the night.

  They were approaching the boundaries of a sprawling farm. A house was visible in the dusk, lights glowing from half a dozen windows. Dara heeled her horse forward to catch up with Vine, whom she hadn’t spoken to since their conversation by the old stable.

  “Let’s see if we can stay at that farm for the night,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  Dara nodded. “Maybe these folks have seen someone passing by.” She was always reluctant to ask strangers for help, but they were getting desperate.

  Vine began to look hopeful. “They are right by the road.”

  “If nothing else, maybe they have a map.”

  “All right, then,” Vine said. She studied the farmhouse for a moment. “We’d better tell them you’re my bodyguard. Trurens never believe when a noble lady travels without attendants.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t mention your noble status,” Dara said. “It raises too many questions.”

  “Dara, people love to help ladies.” She patted Dara’s arm. All hints of her former uncertainty had vanished. “Leave the talking to me.”

  Vine spurred Goldenflower toward the farm, not waiting for a response. Dara waved at Rumy to hurry along and trotted after her.

  The farmhouse was a short, sprawling building off the main road. Constructed of humble materials, its single-story structure appeared to contain room for a lot of people. Dwellings in Vertigon were typically set into the mountainside, sometimes making use of natural caves. It was difficult to tell how large a Vertigonian house was from the outside. But here in Trure, land was available in abundance.

  A stable nestled beside the farmhouse, and a broad field spread out in back. The field looked brown and lifeless thanks to the winter chill, but warm light spilled out of the windows of the house. Dara felt a glimmer of hope as they approached. They should just make it indoors before the storm hit.