Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Wolf

  Darius, the fool, came leading the three cormacs, the longhaired steeds with dazzling white coats.

  “You all worry too much. I’m well enough,” he answered at last, but he sucked in a tight breath, touching his ribs.

  Faye snorted. “Foolish man.”

  Ayva looked at her in agreement, but then shook her head, as if uncomfortable with that.

  “We’ve a long way to go, and no time to waste,” Gray said.

  The four stood in a strange, awkward silence.

  “Well? Are you going to tell them?” Faye said.

  “Tell us what?” Ayva asked.

  “Faye is coming with us,” Gray announced.

  Ayva’s jaw dropped. She strode forward to Gray, her body quaking in anger and exchanged a string of heated words. Faye watched impassively. At last, Ayva ignored her, looking to Darius. “And you’re all right with this? The woman who tried to take your head back to the Citadel on a platter riding along with us?”

  Darius shrugged, abashed. “I tried to talk him out of it at first, like you, but really, Ayva, he has a point. The woman has already told me seven different ways I nearly died on our journey up until now. We know nothing of Farhaven, and we’re still a week away from Farbs. Listen, I don’t like her any more than you do,” he looked to Faye, “No offense, but I don’t.”

  Faye shrugged.

  Darius continued, “I hate to say it, but we need her.” The fool, aside from the girl, was the farthest from warming to her. He was street-wise, she sensed. Faye smiled calmly, amused by the whole interaction.

  “She’s coming,” Gray said firmly. “We need her.”

  Ayva’s eyes burned with a quiet fury.

  Something flashed between those two—a mere flicker, but Faye knew people, or at least knew how to watch for signs. Something between them was breaking, or had just broken.

  Darius rubbed the back of his head nervously. “C’mon, Ayva. It makes sense and you know it.”

  “You’re pathetic,” she snapped. “Both of you, and when she turns on us, you’ll see. Oh sure, she plays a decent game at acting the savior, but she is dark to the core.” With that, she grabbed her smaller cormac, leapt into its saddle, and started off.

  Faye made her face smooth, saying nothing.

  “I really hope we made the right decision,” Darius grumbled, taking to his steed.

  Faye held Gray’s eyes. He glowered at her, dark and brooding. Handsome indeed, she thought. She knew he was judging her, trying to see into her. She felt something prick upon her skin, hairs rising. Ki? She eyed him, curious. Perhaps there’s more to this Devari stunt than I figured. Casually, she rebuffed his attempt, erecting a shield of emotions just as her master—and father—had taught her, a useful trick she’d learned growing up within Farbs, surrounded by Reavers and Devari.

  Frustration seeped into Gray’s features. He sheathed his curious blade in its kingly scabbard of gold and silver and mounted the cormac, riding up to her side. “Don’t disappoint me or I will kill you myself.”

  Her smile deepened, slightly. “Yes, master.”

  Si’tu’ah, The Way of the Sword

  FAYE FOUND HERSELF RIDING BESIDE AYVA and watching the woods. Butterflies, dragonflies, and songbirds moved about them, fluttering from tree to tree. The soft, lilting song of the Node plied her, but she ignored it, thoughts turning to Farbs and her mission.

  She would get the beast, and she would return with it in hand. Then he would listen to her, and give her what she wanted. Iris was waiting for her, she told herself. At the next Node I will find the leader of the phoxes and take her back, unharmed. ‘A hunter never loses its prey’—echoed her old master’s voice.

  “Teach me.”

  Faye twisted, looking shocked. Her surprise put a smile on the girl’s face. “Teach you?”

  “Did I stutter?” Ayva asked. Faye growled. “That is, unless you think you are a poor teacher and know less than you think you do.”

  “I am a poor teacher. Teach yourself.”

  “Ah, but you just said I will die if I attempt such a thing.”

  Faye had trouble not biting her own tongue. Fool, she thought, speaking to herself, maneuvering through a last stand of Silveroots. Her horse, Yarish—in the sand tongue it meant long strider—stepped lightly down the grassy hill. She said nothing.

  “Let’s start simple, shall we? I ask questions, you answer them. That’s all.”

  “I shall think on it.” Faye rode in contemplative silence.

  As they left the safety of the Node and entered the Reliahs Desert, a fear slipped beneath her skin. Tan dunes sat in the far distance. Nearby, it was simply sand and grass. She warily eyed the east and west, looking for signs of the Darkwalkers. Nothing. But she knew there were other dangers out here besides Darkwalkers. The Reliahs Desert was infamously perilous. Bandits and predators abounded, not to mention the sudden shifts in the land called tremors. The temperature alone could change faster than a pickpocket’s hand. In one lungful you could inhale stifling heat, and in the next exhale a frosty breath.

  She thought about Ayva’s proposal. Reluctantly, she admitted she was right… Faye couldn’t let her die. She never broke a promise. Especially not a blood pact—Farhaven would extract the price from her. And slapping the girl’s wrist every time she turned around was not only impractical, but also tiring. Not to mention that teaching allowed Faye a chance to show at least a glimmer of the knowledge she’d acquired under his tutelage.

  “Surely, the ever-wise Faye wouldn’t want to break a promise and endanger—”

  “—Fine,” she said, cutting her off. Backbone indeed, she thought. “You will be my apprentice. But if we do this, we do it the right way. The Farhaven way,” she said and felt a toothy grin crease her face. “You will call me Sunha, and I will call you Diaon. One means ‘the learned’, and the other means ‘knows nothing’. I assume you know which is which.” Ayva bit her lip. It was a habit Faye had noticed when the girl was truly frustrated. “This is a common tradition in Farhaven from master to apprentice. See? Your first lesson. But know this: I will not be easy on you.”

  “I understand,” Ayva said.

  “No, you do not,” Faye said. “When I was a Diaon, I would rarely answer wrongly. But when and if I did, my master would whip me, beating me fiercely until once-healed scabs oozed, or until I coughed blood from my mouth. ‘To know the pain inside is to know true failure,’ he would say.” She unbound her armguard and pulled back her sleeve to expose a thick white scar that ran wrist to elbow. “He preferred to keep the wounds temporary. I was of more use… unblemished. But this one was his reminder.”

  Ayva looked horrified, but she kept it hidden well.

  Faye’s vision flashed back to her past.

  He stood over her, but her vision swam, dark spots floating before her eyes. The room spun. I’m losing too much blood, she knew. No, he was wiser than her. He would know her limits. Dimly, she heard his words. He was asking her something.

  Respond!

  “Where is pain, Diaon?”

  “Everywhere, Sunha,” she whispered, sputtering blood.

  Wrong. She felt it before the words left her mouth. It had sounded like the right answer… Why? Why was she such a fool? His hand lifted, obscuring the sunlight behind him from the single high barred window. The room was a small square with only weapons of death, a bucket of cold water, a small cot, and books. Her room.

  His hand lowered, falling to his side. She hid a sigh of relief, for that would surely get her beaten. He answered in a dark voice, like crackling thunder, “At one time, I might have agreed, but I have evolved beyond such notions. Pain is a tool, and it is only in your mind, Diaon. Make the mind strong, the will unbreakable, and your knowledge deep, and you will not suffer the only true pain—the pain of defeat.”

  The vision shattered.

  She found herself in her saddle, riding quietly, listening to the soft clop of her horse’s hooves. Patches of green grass and dry desert stret
ched ahead. Behind them, she felt Gray and Darius’ presence. They were laughing. Friends, she thought, remembering the fool rogue’s words. The girl’s gaze was hot on her, but she ignored it and spoke. “I will not be so hard, but I will not be soft either.”

  Ayva said, “You may think me weak, but I can handle more than you think.”

  Faye eyed the girl sidelong. She had a pretty face. Light freckles speckled her cheeks, and fine, short-cropped, brown hair swayed slightly as she maneuvered her cormac—elegant steeds of the elves. How? she wondered. The elves would never give away a cormac. Then she shook her head. It made no difference to her. She saw strength in Ayva. The girl’s light blue eyes were not hardened like hers, but they held a surprising note of perseverance. Knowing a person’s limits was a talent of Faye’s. She had to know, so she could break them.

  “We have one week until we reach Farbs,” she announced. “I have promised to train Gray in si’tu’ah, or the Way of the Sword. That comes first. With my remaining time, I will teach you the wisdom of this world.” She allowed herself a smile. “It’s hard to say which is more vital to not dying. Together, you will be a formidable couple.”

  Though she meant the words without sexual implication, the girl’s face grew a red as dark as Sevian wine. Oh really? Interesting, she thought. Faye herself despised sex, but all knowledge was useful—simply a tool like coin to be saved, and then used when the moment was right.

  “Let’s begin now,” Ayva said.

  Faye lifted a brow, imploringly.

  “…Sunha,” Ayva added, reluctantly.

  She sighed. “Ask.”

  Ayva nodded. “What other dangers are there in these lands?”

  Faye’s eyes nearly rolled at that question. So many answers… “I will answer this, Diaon, but from now on be more specific. Use the knowledge of the books you read, and I will dispel fact from fiction.”

  “Yes, Sunha,” she said, almost servile.

  Yes, she will learn, slowly, but she will learn, Faye thought, and began listing the multitude of dangers in the Reliahs Desert, answering questions from how a Tumai plant could heal one’s burns, to the history of dragons—dating back to their blood feud with the race of elves—to which Great Kingdoms had been lost or destroyed during the Lieon. All knew that wind, water, stone, moon, and metal had fallen during the great war, though now water was rebuilt upon the sea, moon was still standing but run by thieves, and stone was said to exist secluded somewhere in the east. The questions veered this way and that in topic, but mostly focused on the many perils of the land.

  After traveling awhile, Faye was exhausted. Blood and dust, did the girl’s questions never end? She had gotten better about narrowing her questions, allowing Faye to answer in the simple, concise manner of a Sunha. Moreover, she was surprised by the girl’s previous knowledge. Only a little surprised, but still surprised. Granted, it was riddled with inaccuracies like weevils in two-month-old bread. What was more amusing was that the falsities were often less grand than the actual truth of Farhaven. She would have stopped long ago, but the girl’s ravenous hunger for knowledge, and the way she soaked it in like a Suntha Sponge, was fascinating. Her light blue eyes grew with every word. She seemed to retain all the information as well—a harsh grilling had ensured that. The girl was born on the wrong side of the Gates, surely.

  Ayva opened her mouth.

  “Enough,” Faye said at last. “That shall do for now, Diaon.”

  Ayva looked disappointed, but luckily for her she nodded. “Yes, Sunha…” and then, “Thank you.”

  Faye hid her surprise, eyeing the girl as she swayed in the cormac’s saddle. Ayva wore her typical pleated gray riding skirts. Her answer was docile, but nothing about her features looked soft. In only a few days, the girl had grown harder and wiser. Faye would have to be careful of her, but she found herself nodding in approval. Then, immediately, Faye grimaced inwardly. She’s still just a foolish girl, she thought forcefully.

  An oasis sat ahead. It was little more than a pool of water and several trees—a mockery of even the smallest Node, she thought. The two young men had already dismounted. Gray knelt beside Darius at the water’s edge, chatting.

  She approached.

  “Do you think it’s still watching us?” Darius was asking.

  Gray shrugged. “I’m not sure… I haven’t felt it since Faye arrived. Perhaps…”

  Darius cleared his throat loudly, indicating her approach. Watching us? The thought made her think of her prey. She couldn’t forget that was her main goal, but for now, she had other snakes to skin. Gray quieted. Calmly, he washed his face with the warm water and looked up.

  “Your turn,” Faye told him, nodding to the magnificent sword at his side. She wished she could touch it but remembered the horrifying agony it had given her last time. She didn’t make the same mistake twice, especially not one as painful as that.

  “You look exhausted,” he said, eyeing her. “We can wait if…”

  She chuckled, but it held no mirth. “Underestimating your opponent is a bad place to start when learning si’tu’ah, apprentice.” Faye emphasized the last word and looked to Gray’s sword again that rested in the sand. “Pick that up.” There was a clear threat in her voice. Darius rocked back, and she knew Ayva must have been sending her daggers.

  “Or?” Gray questioned.

  “You still do not trust me, do you? What do you expect me to say? That I will cut you down where you kneel?” She laughed and this time she was amused. “No, Gray, I don’t need to threaten you with violence. Farbs and the Citadel will do that for me. I am no easy foe, but I am nothing compared to a hundred Devari, and a keep full of deadly Reavers, and to top it off, several Arbiters—more legend and myth than actual living beings. If you wish to live, you must learn. If not, then die. It makes no difference to me.”

  With that, she walked away without waiting.

  Gray’s eyes narrowed, and then he grabbed Morrowil and rose. “So be it.”

  * * *

  Flipping back her scarlet hair, Faye circled Gray, appraising him. He stood silently, waiting. “You are too aggressive. Too wild. You need control. Devari are masters of their bodies and their environments, in perfect harmony with everything, including their enemies. Like a horse, you chomp at the bit, but you must accept it. Without having balance, you will die.”

  The words sounded familiar. Control. He thought he had control. His grip tightened on the blade in his hand, feeling its smooth hilt. Control over Morrowil perhaps, but what she suggested was different. Now he needed control over his own body. And yet… He reached, feeling for the nexus, and felt his gut lurch. It sat, waiting, but just like last time, a part was missing as if a sickness was eating away at the swirling ball of air. He lifted his hand, summoning it. He waited to see eddies of wind swirl around his palm but there was nothing. It was like reaching for a handhold and falling upon his face. His power was there, he knew, but he just couldn’t touch it. How do I bridge that gap? He tried to imagine filling the gap in the nexus, as if patching a hole in a leaking boat, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he turned his attention back to Faye.

  “You’re right,” he said simply.

  Nearby, Darius lounged back on his elbows and Ayva sat cross-legged, watching. Somehow he was afraid to have them watch—why was that? He’d faced the Kage, Saeroks, Vergs and dragons with them at his side… Why was fighting Faye making his palms sweat?

  “Of course I am,” she snorted from behind him, still circling. “You attack wildly, attempting to make up for the gaps in your training.”

  “Then help me fill in those gaps,” he voiced, hoping it sounded like less of an order and more of a plea. Abruptly, he felt a slight break of wind from behind him and he twisted, lifting Morrowil in the nick of time as her blade crashed down upon him. Metal rung.

  Faye squinted. “How do you sense my movement? Can you hear me?”

  Gray shook his head. “It’s the wind.”

  “I thought your power
was gone?”

  He felt his skin prick. “How did you…” Ayva and Darius watched, but she had said it so that only he had heard.

  The pressure of her blade spiked and she leapt back, skidding along the sand. Her head rose. “This is your first lesson. You must sense the emotions of others, when fighting or merely talking, and then read what they are hiding and what they are intentionally exposing. Then, take both and use it against them. That is si’tu’ah. Your blade and mind must be one.”

  “You are a fearsome opponent.”

  Faye laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied and attacked.

  Gray raised his sword, but the slice to his head was a feint. She took her blade across sideways towards his torso, spinning. Morrowil flashed, parrying. But her foot extended as she spun, hitting his feet, and he stumbled, falling onto his rear. Dust puffed into the air, and when it cleared, her sword sat before his eyes, wavering, ready to strike.

  “I learned that from another, a tribe of warriors,” she explained. “That is si’tu’ah as well. Take what your opponents teach you and use it against them. Everything in fighting is a lesson, but you must have ears that listen, eyes that see, and a mind that adapts,” she said, tapping her temple. Her curved blade still hung before his eyes, its steel point reflecting the bright sun into his eyes.

  Gray cleared his throat, eyeing the blade.

  Faye grumbled and grudgingly dropped it, extending a gloved hand.

  As she did, he grabbed it, put a foot underneath him for weight, and swept his other foot in a smooth arc. Faye, however, saw it coming and pulled away, but he gripped her hand tighter, tugging her in. As he swiped her legs from beneath her, she fell hard onto her rear. “Am I learning?” he asked, rising.

  Faye looked up at him from upon the ground, and he thought she was hiding a smile, but he couldn’t tell. Suddenly, she rolled, grabbed a fistful of sand, and threw it at him, clouding the air. Gray coughed, and something flickered in his mind. A small gust cleared the sand from the air. In its place, was Faye, both blades raised. Something popped into Gray’s mind. It felt ancient, yet new. Monk pushes the Darkness—gripping Morrowil in one hand, he parried her sword to the side. But her dagger darted towards his throat. He slipped it, slightly, and used his forearm to smack her other arm aside. The weight of his strike made Faye stumble forward. Without slowing, he brought his hand up to his ear and chopped towards Faye’s throat. He stopped, pulling the blow in the last second. Her eyes were wide, staring into his.