Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Wolf

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “Then what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

  Perhaps, Faye thought, but remained silent. Though she could not see the man’s face, she felt him smile beneath that white-cloth shroud. Dalic bowed his head, slightly. He accepted.

  A dozen paces away, Gray risked death to croak, “Faye… No…”

  She ignored him, stepping forward.

  Dalic moved back, preparing. The man rolled his lithe shoulders, moving from side to side, warming up in the sun’s light. At last, he pulled down his white shroud. He grinned—showing a hard, angular face full of excitement. He was handsome, but raw like an uncut stone. Then his gaze focused, like the sun’s light through a thick looking glass, ready for battle. An Algasi handed him his spear, and Faye saw that it held two black bands. She had never heard of such a thing.

  This man was not her equal in the slightest.

  Today, after years of avoiding it, she would die.

  Unintended Consequences

  DARIUS’ SKULL THROBBED.

  Dust filled his nostrils. Suddenly, he heard the ring of steel upon steel and the scuffle of feet. Someone was fighting. There was a cry—muted and feminine. What the…? He moved to sit up, but froze. A strange instinct warned him against it. Slowly, barely, he cracked open his eyelids. Light flooded his vision.

  He saw a boot in the corner of his gaze, and the glimpse of a spear hovering before his face. Captive. He cursed inwardly. Where are you, Gray and Ayva? Surely they must be held captive too, but Darius couldn’t risk moving or his captors would notice. He took in the scene beyond.

  Nearby, upon the dry desert, Faye faced a mountain of a man. He was not wide—not unless a blade could be considered wide—save for his broad shoulders, which would have brushed a door’s frame. Hunched, he looked like a large cat ready to pounce. In one hand he held a spear with a thick, steel head and two black bands upon the wooden haft. Dust colored fabric like his own previous rags draped the man’s huge frame. Casually, he rose to his full, impressive height and spoke a strange, jumbled mess of words. Darius wondered if the knock to his head was making his hearing fuzzy.

  Faye was breathing hard, looking ragged and on the verge of defeat. Through the haze of his lashes, he saw blood. It dripped, staining the desert ground at her feet. The man, on the other hand, wasn’t breathing hard at all. All exhaustion seemed to flee as Faye cried out, launching at the man. She was a whirlwind of steel and anger, fluid like water, but then unpredictable like a pike amid the reeds. How had Gray stood up to such a woman? Her sword and dagger flashed, cutting and swiping, and between the gaps of each attack, she launched kicks, elbows and even knees. But that man…. Darius couldn’t believe it. He moved as if sloughing through water. Nothing she threw hit, as if he were smoke. No, he realized, he was just quick. Too quick. Worse, his rock-like face never changed. It was as if he were merely dancing, as if he were reading her moves before they happened. Dice! Darius had never seen anything like it. And he realized, suddenly, that the man was not attacking. Not once even. He simply backpedaled along the desert as Faye cried out in a rage of fury, exhausting herself.

  Screaming at the top of her lungs, Faye cut at his neck wildly. Suddenly, the man stopped dodging. He halted, and Darius felt Faye’s surprise. His opening, Darius knew and choked. He had just been waiting, calmly biding his time. The man slipped an attack that would have taken his head by a hairsbreadth and stabbed. The spear lunged for her head, impossibly fast. She ducked. But the man was still moving. He thrust again and again, three, four, five times and more, faster than Darius’ eye could follow. Faye dipped, dodged, and weaved, evading one after another, her breath coming harder and harder. She was keeping pace! Dice, she can do it! he thought, watching in amazement. Suddenly, the man twisted. His long leg sliced, raising a fan of dirt. Faye, her eyes focused on the jabbing spear, didn’t see it coming. He swept her feet, and she hit the dirt like a sack of bricks, air pressed from her lungs. Darius swallowed, blinking. When he opened his eyes, the man stood over her. The spear’s head hovered above Faye’s heart, inches away. Still, the man wasn’t breathing hard, and looked as if he hadn’t broken a sweat.

  Faye lowered her eyes, defeated. Her hand touched something at her side, but he knew it was a death sentence. The man’s muscles tensed.

  Darius reached inside. The Leaf floated in his mind, lines golden and glowing. Fearfully, he gripped it. Immediately, he was opened to his surroundings even with his eyes closed. There were few trees out here, but he felt dead roots deep beneath the earth as if this place had once been full of life. Unsure of what he was doing, he reached for them. So far… But still he pulled, anger and pressure building in his mind.

  He opened his eyes.

  The man’s spear descended.

  He cried out, feeling root and earth breaking beneath him. Almost there! A boot stomped hard onto his back, pushing him to the ground. Suddenly, the pressure was gone as cries erupted. Darius felt the air break. Without wasting a second thought, he rolled to one side. A spear’s tip dug a chunk of earth out where he had just been. He looked up. A one-armed man with brown skin and black hair even wilder than his own stood over him, attacking, spear flying again towards his face. But Darius was ready. He kicked, hitting the man square in the chest with both feet. The man took the blow, flying back. Rolling to his feet, Darius saw the chaos before him.

  Ayva was running, sprinting for safety. Nearby, Gray knelt, surrounded by four different spears. Yet the men watched fearfully as turmoil exploded around them. Roots burst from the ground, hundreds of them. They grabbed some men, holding them in the air and lashing at others.

  Closer still, Faye knelt, frozen. The tall man before her growled, but a thick, gnarled root held his spear, halting the killing blow. Confused, but only for a second, the man dropped his spear and looked around, watching the disorder. Sweat knit across Darius’ brow as he propelled the chaos, pushing the roots to grab and flay. Suddenly, the power was too much to hold and his concentration broke and the roots collapsed, lifeless once more. Darius sagged, exhausted.

  The tall man bellowed, drawing all eyes. Darius saw that he gripped Faye’s throat, holding her above the ground. “No more tricks! You’ve broken the duel and have lost all honor. Now you all must die.” He nodded to the four men surrounding Gray. “Kill them all.”

  Ayva shouted, “No!”

  “Ayva, save Faye!” Darius ordered.

  He saw her expression twist, but she nodded.

  The four men around Gray raised their spears.

  Darius concentrated. With the last bit of his failing power, he focused on a huge, ancient root deep beneath the sand. Slowly, it rumbled. Its presence and his became one. Darius’ eyes snapped open and he thrust his hand up, driving the root like a spike through the earth and into the center of Gray and his captors. Earth sprayed like water into the air, buying Gray a split second. He dove, rolling and reaching for his sword. But one of the warriors, unperturbed by the exploding ground, was quicker.

  “Faye, shield your eyes! Now!” It was Ayva’s voice.

  A light burst in the corner of his vision, blindingly bright. Darius was forced to shelter his gaze as well. When he opened his eyes, he saw the leader. The man groaned, stumbling and clutching his eyes as if temporarily blinded.

  Faye rose, standing over the man who reached for Morrowil, “Go ahead.” The man grabbed Gray’s blade then screamed, falling to his knees. Faye nodded, as if satisfied, then kicked Morrowil towards Gray. Another warrior leapt at Gray from behind with a black-banded spear.

  “Gray!” Darius cried out.

  But Gray was too slow. He twisted and the spear flashed. Suddenly, Faye pushed him, taking his place as the black-banded spear found its mark, piercing her shoulder. She cried out but then kicked the man in the groin with all her might. The warrior merely flinched. It was all the time Darius needed. He lifted his hand, directing the ancient tuber. His body quaked, every muscle straining as h
e lifted the colossal root. It rose into the air and then fell, landing upon the warrior and pinning him to the ground.

  Looking around, Darius saw the leader. Face dark as death, the Algasi leader snatched his two-banded spear and stalked forward. Well, I guess his vision is back, Darius realized. Glancing around, he swallowed. The other warriors had dealt with the remaining roots and now made a slow death-stalk towards Darius, weapons in hand.

  Ayva, Gray and Faye fell in at his side, backing up slowly.

  “Well, that seemed to be going well.”

  “You fool, you shouldn’t have interrupted our duel. Now you’ve gotten us all killed.”

  Darius shook his head, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? I saved you! You were about to die!”

  “Better me than all of us,” she replied with a shrug.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Gray stated, interrupting. “Got anything left in that bag of tricks of yours, Darius?”

  Darius shook his head, eyeing their approaching death. “I wish.” It was true; his whole body felt as if he’d just run from the Lost Woods to Death’s Gate and back. He was drained. And even if he did have the energy, he had conjured those roots out of need. He had no idea what he’d just done. “Can you get us away, Gray? You know, use your power again?”

  “I…” Gray faltered. He closed his eyes as if searching, and then shook his head, looking afraid and defeated. “Not this time.”

  Ayva nervously gripped her dagger in her hand. “Then what do we do?”

  The men stalked closer still, their dark faces with hard eyes ready for the kill, like hawks corralling a field mouse into a corner for the final blow.

  Faye spoke. “We can’t fight this. It’s time to run.” She put two fingers into her mouth and whistled. Her horse suddenly whinnied, galloping towards them from the east. The cormacs, intuitive beasts, turned and followed Faye’s mare. The warriors twisted, but it was too late as the steeds galloped through their ranks. The leader pivoted, whole body twisting as he stabbed, his spear piercing its target. Faye’s horse cried out, falling, but the cormacs burst through. Faye shouted, but there was no time.

  Leaping up on his mount, Darius grabbed a distraught Faye and pulled her up behind him. She winced, grabbing her wounded shoulder. Then, kicking his heels into Mirkal’s flanks, Darius charged, bursting away from the sand-colored warriors and into the desert beyond.

  * * *

  The sun was a ripe blood red, hanging just above the horizon in the west when they at last stopped to make camp at a large Node just before the rolling, endless dunes.

  Gray wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and the Algasi. Faye had said that many of them could run for miles on end without tiring. That had put him and the others on edge.

  Nearing the Node, he slowed.

  This sanctuary was not like the others, more dirt and sand, and less greenery. The majority of trees were smooth poles with huge green fronds. They drooped as if drowsy, glad for dusk and a respite from the relentless sun. Gray could understand that sentiment. At the center was another large pond, but it looked shallow. He doubted at its deepest it would reach his waist. There were no animals, save for the buzz of some nearby beetles. Yet bits of gold—magic, he knew—hung in the air above the water, which reflected the full moon above.

  He dismounted and patted his cormac, thanking the beast for working so hard. Even the cormacs, seemingly tireless beasts, had begun to slack. Their fine-coats had worked up a slight lather. Let the Algasi chase us here, he thought, then rescinded his words immediately. Spirits send they don’t. He knew they couldn’t face those warriors again. Not without an army at their back.

  Faye swung smoothly from Darius’ mount and strode to the nearby pool.

  “Faye,” Gray said. She said nothing, washing her hands at the water. “I’m sorry.”

  “’Just as the bright sun sets and darkness falls, so too must all things fade with the sands of time,’” she whispered, and he realized she was quoting something.

  A silence settled over the four, Ayva and Darius looking to him.

  “Yarish was a good steed, but it’s fine,” she said, her back turned. “As long as you keep your promise.” Her voice was calm and indifferent. But as she knelt at the water’s edge, dipping her hands in and washing the dirt of travel from her tan face, he sensed her hurt. Not the ki, but si’tu’ah. It was evident.

  “What does that mean?” Ayva asked, “What promise?”

  Gray shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Darius made a loud, exaggerated cough. “Sorry to interrupt, but does anyone want to tell me what in the seven hells of remwar happened back there? What were those things exactly?” He leapt from his cormac and tied it to a nearby tree.

  “Algasi,” Ayva said. “Sand warriors. Stories say they are a nomadic tribe that roams the lands near the Rehlias Desert. According to many tales, they were once citizens of the great kingdom of Vaster. After the war, it was said they banished themselves for the guilt was too great.”

  “What guilt?” Gray asked.

  “The guilt that they started the war. It was Omni’s sword that was stolen. The sun blade was never recovered and many believe it was the catalyst for the Lieon. The Algasi felt the blame for the countless victims of the great war.”

  “That must be when Omni and the Ronin took the blame for the war,” Gray said in realization.

  Ayva bobbed her head. “Precisely, for they were the only ones who could hold the blade.”

  Gray shook his head, amazed. “How do you know all this?”

  She smiled, looking pleased. “I was always fascinated by the Algasi, and Faye filled me in on the rest.

  Faye said nothing.

  Gray looked at her, pondering. The woman had tried to sacrifice herself for them… Hadn’t she? Or was that just another ploy? Gray had figured Faye was the type to always have an out. She was a survivor. Then what was that back there? Had she truly attempted to give her life for them?

  “No offense,” Darius said, raising his hands, “but I didn’t ask for a history lesson, Ayva. I just want to know what happened. The last thing I remember was riding along, laughing, and then, whack! Lights out! Where in the world did they come from?”

  Ayva grumbled. “Just because you say no offense, doesn’t mean it’s not offensive, Darius. Idiot.”

  Darius, taking off his cormac’s saddle and brushing the creature down, merely shrugged. He seemed to pay a lot of attention and care to the beast. But Gray could understand, for they weren’t like normal creatures. Sometimes, he almost felt as if they understood him when he talked.

  “They were hiding in the sand,” Gray explained.

  “In the sand?” the rogue exclaimed, “That figures. This whole land is a dicing deathtrap. But how is it that I’m always the one who gets knocked out? Remember Lakewood? Same dicing thing!”

  Gray hid a smirk. It was true. “But this time was different. What you did, Darius—” he shook his head, remembering the army of roots that, like a hundred fingers of earth, had sprouted from the land “—it was truly magnificent. You saved us.”

  Darius looked embarrassed. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I did a little, sure, but it wasn’t me that saved us. It was her.” He nodded to Faye.

  Suddenly, Faye rose, let out a small groan and staggered, falling.

  Gray darted, grabbing her as she collapsed. She was limp in his arms. He cursed, furious at himself—how could he have forgotten? She had pushed him out of the way and taken the spear that was meant to take his life. He lifted a hand. It was drenched in blood. Without thinking, he pulled back her layered leather and mail armor. He saw the wound. It was on her shoulder, but cloth covered it. He set her to the ground and pulled her shirt down, exposing her shoulder and her chest.

  “What are you doing?” Ayva exclaimed, aghast.

  He spoke heatedly. “I need to clean and bind her wound, and quick. Her clothing is in the way. If I don’t, she will surely die.” He looked up. Ayv
a’s face was pained, conflicted. “We can’t let her die, Ayva. She sacrificed herself for us. This is partly your fault, and mine as well. It’s all our fault.”

  Ayva looked ready to retort when Faye coughed. “Water…” she moaned.

  Surprisingly, Darius was at her side, a skin of water in his hand, putting it to her dry lips.

  Cursing, Ayva grabbed her dagger and leapt upon her cormac’s back. “I’ll look for some Silveroot then. Don’t let her die before I get back,” she said, as if an order, and then dug her heels into the animal’s flanks, heading deeper into the Node.

  “Can we trust her?” Darius asked. Again Faye moaned, head lolling to one side. She’s unconscious, Kirin whispered to him. She’s lost too much blood…

  Don’t tell me that. Help me or stay quiet.

  “Gray?” Darius asked.

  He looked up. He must have said it out loud again. Ripping bits of red and gray cloth from Faye’s clothes, Gray dipped them in the nearby water and quickly cleared away the wound. Much of it had crusted, clogged with dirt and sand. He brushed it aside as carefully as possible, but as he did more blood spouted like a fountain.

  At his side, Darius gagged, averting his gaze.

  Something isn’t right about this… Kirin voiced. She should be worse. Not even a Devari would stay upright with a wound like that. She’s lost a lot of blood, but less than she should have.

  What do you mean? Speak quickly!

  I think something is still stuck in her, slowing the flow of blood. A piece of the spear perhaps…

  And?

  It may be the only thing that has saved her thus far, but if it gets into her bloodstream…

  What? he pressed.

  She’ll die.

  Tell me what to do, he ordered.

  Kirin hesitated.

  Now, Gray insisted, growling inwardly. He didn’t know what he could do if Kirin refused. There was no threat he could give to the voice, aside from trying to shut it out or banishing it once and for all when he got to Farbs. But at last, his old self spoke.