by AB Bradley
“Always sand.” Iron wiped the back of his hand over his brow.
“Your words hurt them.”
Iron didn’t reply except to clench his jaw.
“Do you not see how? You curse the Six. You curse the ones who care. Why does your tongue lash so bitter? Why are you so quick to leave them?”
“You don’t know my story. You don’t know—couldn’t know why I did what I did.” His gaze darted to Fang, its weight resting on his thigh. “Fighting the Serpent Sun is useless. Even if we win, we lose. The gods are gone, and their blessings are empty.”
“They fought for us. They sacrificed themselves for their children in the Godfall. Do you not know the story?”
“I know a little about it. King Sol attacked the temples and killed all the priests and priestesses. He destroyed the holiest places of the Six, and the Six fell because of it.”
Batbayar snorted and pressed the small of his back against the greyhorn’s hump. “What simple way to describe the darkest day of the Third Sun. You make it sound like the Mother fell and scraped her knee. You are elchgharat.”
“You keep calling me that. I don’t know what it means, Kerran.”
“You don’t want to know the meaning. You are elchgharat. Not ready to be arphanarat. Not yet. Maybe I teach you how to be more than what you are. I have not decided yet.”
“I don’t even want you to—”
“Godfall.” Batbayar crossed his arms, lips puckered. “Was dark day indeed, but gods began their fall long before that night. Magic faded from my fingers a full season before.” His chin dipped as memories whirled around him. “I still remember my last spell. Little girl broke her toe. I fixed it. Then, I could not fix her brother’s leg. The infection took his life soon after. If I fixed leg first, they both would have lived. I still think about that poor boy.”
“It must have been difficult feeling helpless, knowing you couldn’t save him no matter how hard you tried.” This was something Iron definitely related to, remembering the faces of those Caspran slaughtered as he watched, unable to help thanks to a Sinner’s Oath and a useless weapon.
“I stayed with him until the end, and then I sent his soul into the Child’s arms. I travel to Sollan to see the temple and pray for power, but I came too late. I saw the fire split the sky. I heard the screams as a man who called himself Good King murdered men, women, and children. It was not just gods who fell that night. Many innocents followed them to their graves.”
“Sol hates the Six,” Iron murmured. “But he has good reason to.”
“He hates more than Six gods. He hates mankind too. All of us.” Batbayar pursed his wide lips. “But no, the Six were falling long before that night. Godfall did not crush them. That is a lie the king tells. He destroyed temples for other reasons.”
The words tickled Iron’s curiosity. He focused his attention on the man. “Then why do they call it the Godfall?”
“Because lies fall like Skaard snows from the lips of this High King. On that night, he sought not to kill the Six. He sought something else. He sought something that was but should not have been. He sought a weapon that could destroy him.”
“Sounds like he found it. He won that night.”
A grin inched up Batbayar’s round jaw. He glanced at Iron from the corner of his eye. “Foolish elchgharat. He did not win the night. This weapon is not his. He seeks it still.”
Fang swung from Iron’s thigh and wobbled side to side. He grabbed the scabbard and readjusted its position on his leg. Fang might have been the weapon, but it made no sense why Sol would destroy temples in Sollan for an object buried halfway across the world in the middle of a sea. He was still missing something in this story.
“You must fight this High King, Iron. There is a darker fall coming than the one that silenced the Six.”
He looked up to find Batbayar drinking him in with a steady glare. Such kindness swirled within those deep eyes.
“But I tried to fight Caspran, Batbayar. He killed my friends and toyed with me. If I can’t fight one of the Serpent Sun’s priests, how in all the damned dead gods am I supposed to fight Sol?”
Batbayar spit, his eyes narrowing as his thick finger pointed at Iron. “First: Try not speaking shelasthran when you speak of the Six.” The man straightened. “Second: You are young and stupid. My people have this saying: The hen won’t roast itself on the spit. You must work for your meal. I see you fight. You know good stances. You will learn the Shining Step. It is best way to fight. Better than the rest.”
“I don’t need to learn another step. We don’t have time.”
He laughed and slapped his belly, a painful reminder of Round Gil. “We have much time. We are weeks from Ker. You will fight like master soon enough. You will do this for those who died on the Godfall and all those who died by Sol the days after. Fight for them if you will not fight for the Six.”
Stupid priests and their ways with words. Only a few days had passed since Iron met the man, and already Batbayar knew how to herd Iron closer to the Six even as he tried to push the gods away.
“For those who died, then,” Iron said.
“We begin tomorrow.” Batbayar kicked his greyhorn, and the beast sauntered toward the front of their line.
The moon hung high against a sky bleeding violet. The first stars poked through the cloudless blanket and glimmered in the twilight. Iron led his greyhorn to an emerald pool lapping at a rocky shore. Tall, soft grasses tickled his elbows as crickets chirped a rhythmic beat safely hidden from his eyes.
Thirsty from its travels, the greyhorn buried its snout in the cool water and began slurping its nightly drink. Iron filled his own flagon and leaned against a palm, staring at the moon.
“I caught a few hares,” Sander said. “Ayska’s going to cook them. Nephele and Batbayar are setting up camp.”
Iron glanced over to see his master parting the grasses like a wraith as the man strode to the pool. Sander took up residence next Iron and leaned against the trunk.
“That’s good,” Iron said, trying in vain to soothe his nerves. “Thanks.”
More words passed between them now than they had since their escape from Athe. Sander’s sigh joined the wind as it rustled through the grass. “Batbayar tells me he wants to teach you the Shining Step. He tells me he watched you fight in Athe and that you’ve already mastered the Gentle Dance. You’re getting stronger. I’m not sure how you can learn these stances so quickly and master them so well, but you are.”
Iron crossed his arms and tapped an elbow. “Master, do you know what happened at the Godfall?”
The air tightened with tension like a throat constricting. For a long while, Sander remained quiet. Then, he spoke. “I have nothing I can tell you about the Godfall that Batbayar didn’t already say.”
“You could sell that tapestry of words at a market, you weave it so finely. Why do you keep lying to me?”
“Despite what you might think, Iron, some things are beyond even what I can tell.”
“Would you lie to me?”
“If I had to. I’m a Sinner’s man. I would lie to save a life.”
“So this secret saves my life?” Iron pulled away from the trunk and turned to Sander. The man chewed on a stalk and stared intently at the moon.
“Maybe it saves more than just your life.” Sander looked him in the eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Why in all the gods-damned hells are you so fucking angry, boy? Those things you said back in Athe, what you tried to do, they were so far out of line, they sat on the horizon. You’ve got a lot of nerve trying to abandon us like that after all we’ve been through together.”
“Kind of like the gods abandoned us, don’t you think?”
“Sinner save me, get over it, Iron! What’s done is done. They fell. We might be screwed, but we might not be! Are you going to sit there and act like you’re five again, pounding away at the snow because you had to eat root stew instead of elk?”
“What do you expect? You hid me
from the world, and when we finally returned to it, all I get is lie after lie, secret after secret—or worse yet, knowledge that makes me hate the ones I used to worship.”
“You don’t hate them.” Sander swallowed, leaning closer. “What did you really learn at that shrine on Rosvoi? You told Ayska we had hope. You said there might be a way. Well, now that we’re speaking of lies, tell me why you lied to her then? You said we need to cross the Simmering Sands and make for Ker. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more. Look who’s come to us! A man of the Shining Child. Don’t you think that’s a little more than convenient?
“We only need to find the Coin Counter and the Burning Mother to complete the number, to complete the circle! I’m not stupid and I’m not addle-brained. You told me your vision of the doe. A circle’s broken and we’re doing a helluva job gathering the pieces back together, now aren’t we?”
“That was only part of my vision. The other half asked for forgiveness, remember? What sin is so great that a god requires their creation’s pardon?”
“You tell me. What did the shrine reveal?”
Iron took a deep breath.
The words almost spilled out. They gathered behind his lips like a raging thundersnow. He wanted so badly to say them. Instead, he straightened and shook his head.
Sander had his secrets. Iron could keep his because despite it all, he cared for his master.
“You’ve figured out as much as I have, Sander. We cross the desert and collect the priests. They’re the key to stopping the High King.”
Sander’s nostrils swelled with his smirk. He rolled his eyes and plucked the grass from his lips. “I’ve taught you too well it seems.”
“What do you expect? I lie to save a life.”
Iron’s master shook his head and strolled back the way he came. The man entered the tall grasses and paused, glancing behind him. “You think I’ve got a bitter heart because I raised you in the wild. You’re right that I never wanted to raise a little boy. I never wanted to sail to the edge of the world and hide in a mountain’s shadow for years, always knowing that while Sol killed my brothers and sisters, I hid in the safety of quiet snow.
“No, I did not wake up that morning hoping for this life. I did spend every morning after, thanking the Six for bringing you to me. I wouldn’t trade a single day of the life I had for the one that might have been. You may call me master and I call you boy, but in my heart, you’ve always been my son.”
Sander swept into the grass and vanished beyond a grove of palms. Iron twisted to the trunk and clutched it. He knocked his head against the rough bark and cursed his cowardice.
“And you have always been my father.” If only Iron could have told Sander that.
Sighing, he pushed away from the trunk. His eye caught a figure cresting the hill. Ayska’s braids fell over a shoulder and glimmered in the starlight. Her eyes were two jewels set against the smooth mask of her face. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Heartfelt
“Why did you do that in Athe?” Ayska asked. “You told me you had a plan. That wasn’t a damn plan, Iron. That was suicide.” She crossed her arms beneath a sky washed by moon and stars. Concern glittered in those deep brown pools of her eyes., clouded by a thin veil of anger in her tone.
“I thought it was the only way to save you. Caspran wants me, not any of you. Delay him a little by threatening my own life and maybe you all would’ve gotten out of Athe safely.”
“Like I fucking care about that.” She stomped through the grass and planted a finger on his chest, her hot breaths flaring her nostrils. “I don’t even buy that. I’m—I’m so mad that you’d just give up like that! After all we…” She clenched her jaw. “After all I’ve sacrificed, you’d just take your life and abandon us to the serpents. Did my crew not mean anything to you? You’d rather fall on your sword and be a coward than fight for those of us you’d leave behind!”
Iron recoiled at her words. They speared his heart and twisted it into a bloody knot despite the anger heating his blood. “I didn’t give up. I was trying to save you. The High King wants me. I’m the key to ending this war. If I took myself out of the equation, then maybe there’d be no war.”
“Oh, you are just so preciously logical aren’t you, Iron?” She twisted around, whipping his chest with her braids. “Urum just spins on an Iron-shaped axis, doesn’t it? I stayed with you because you promised to fight the bastards who took my friends and loved ones from me. We were supposed to get revenge, Iron. You weren’t supposed to leave me like some Six-blessed coward.”
“I’m not blessed by the Six, believe me. But the war—”
Ayska whirled around and slapped his cheek, leaving a throbbing echo. “This war will never end until every alp is dead and the king’s head is rotting on the pike I’m holding. This war started years before you left Skaard and did just fine bleeding those of us in it without you. You think anything will change if you leave? Idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot and I’m not a coward.” His fists shook. He wanted to tell her. I’m the Serpent. Gods be damned, I’m the Serpent! Maybe she’d kill him then, and he’d get his wish. But once Ayska’s temper cooled, her crime would undo her. Iron knew it. Besides, if he told her the Six cast out the seventh god and that action set this whole mess in motion, her anger would destroy the tattered ribbon of humanity tethering her soul.
“There are things you don’t understand,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do. The thought of him hurting you made me desperate. I’m…” His hands went to her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave you ever again.”
She shuddered and turned to him. Tears swirled in her eyes, but her lashes batted them back. “Fate punishes those disloyal to their hearts. Disloyalty always ends in blood and misery. This is a truth I learned long ago, one that will destroy you if you don’t follow it. What you did in Athe—it changed things, Iron. It changed us. I have a different perspective now.”
Her words came from wisdom borne on memory, another hint into a dark and disturbed past. Iron pulled her to him until her head rested on his chest. He smelled the desert in her hair and the oils of her braids. He cupped her head with a hand and smiled at the stars. The Mother’s constellation glittered on the dark field, an ever-present reminder of the approaching alignment. “It seems like that first time I met you was just yesterday and not—what, months ago?”
Ayska laughed as her hand coiled around his waist. “I thought to myself, who is this peacock’s ass speaking Rabwian like a man who’s just taken a bath in saltwater gin?”
“My Rabwian’s not that bad!”
“No, it’s worse.”
He slowly swayed them back and forth like a reed caught in alternating breezes. “I’d never really met a woman before unless you count the old woman Sander knew who’d tried to get me arrested. Honestly, I didn’t like you very much.”
“I did call you a little bay gull. You were squawking at that table like you needed a fish.”
He grinned, even as other thoughts dripped like water from a leaky roof into the tranquil moment. She’d been sitting in the tavern when they entered, hadn’t she? Ayska had known about Caspran’s imminent arrival. She’d somehow convinced the murderous alp to let her ship sail to open waters. It made no sense, when afterwards Caspran just seemed to know exactly where Iron would be and when. But the alp could have taken him at Spineshell if he wanted. The alp also could’ve captured Iron in the Old City. Batbayar’s explosives were powerful, but alps could heal from any wound. No, they didn’t escape Athe. Caspran let them flee Athe.
Iron frowned at the stars. Nothing made sense unless he really wasn’t the only one Caspran wanted. His eyes widened as the realization blossomed in his thoughts.
The circle was broken, and one by one, Iron had begun to gather the Six’s champions. Of course. He’d been such a fool. Caspran wanted all of them, not just Iron. That’s why he kept Ayska and Sander alive on Spineshell instead o
f killing them. That’s why he continued prodding Iron along his journey, ensuring Iron knew the gods’ shame in an effort to convert him to the Serpent Sun. A puzzle once jumbled formed frightening clarity and only reinforced his suspicion that someone in their group betrayed them.
“You never told me why you’d come to Skaard.” His gaze drifted from the stars and settled on her face. “You told me you came to Ormhild to kill Elof for his crime of slaving. You told Caspran you came to port to hunt for a weapon wanted by the High King. Which of those stories were true, or were neither?”
A long silence passed between their breaths before she spoke again. “Both are true in a way. We came to Ormhild because I’d heard Elof made port there. On the way, we intercepted the message the swifts carried. Going there seemed like a win for everyone. I’d actually been there a few days, hunting rumors and ghosts, all the while trying to avoid that waste of flesh slaver.” She pulled away, her scars running from her wrists to her shoulders casting little shadows of tragedy on her skin. “The crew didn’t want to hunt for some weapon. They wanted to stick to our original mission, to avenge my crew and strike fear into the slave trade.”
“But you wanted the weapon, so you stayed.”
“I’d given up when I heard you and Sander blabbering in Rabwian. When I saw you, I just—something felt right about talking to you. You had to come aboard. I had to have you with me.”
It made so much sense. It was the perfect story that fit within the mold of everything Iron knew about her. He didn’t know if that put him at ease or blinded him to her motives, but here in this speck of green lost amongst a sea of sand, he stopped caring. He stopped suspecting. He just was.
“You came for a weapon,” he said. “Instead, you found me.”
“Instead, I found you.”
Iron pulled her close again. They stared at one another, and for a moment, the world turned to mist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. They tasted so sweet, and their touch electrified his skin. He could stay there in that eternal mist forever, and the Six and their war would never cross his mind again, just as long as he had Ayska.
