by Matthew Wolf
“I’m not evil,” she said firmly.
“I know that, Ayva. I just…” He looked away then back at her. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“And why didn’t you?” she questioned, tears now gone.
“Because you’ve changed,” he said, speaking the words before thinking. A silence hung in the air as she looked at him, trying to gauge his tone. He wasn’t sure how he meant it… It wasn’t bad, was it? But that innocence. As he looked at her, he saw it fading like frost before the sun.
“I haven’t changed,” she said. “You have.” But even as she said the words, she stood straighter and spoke clearer. Still, she touched his shoulder compassionately, letting him know she had not meant the words callously. The way she did that reminded him of someone.
Gray searched for words. “We need her, Ayva. Don’t you see?”
“No, Gray. You need her.”
He hesitated, for once his words falling short.
“I see it in your eyes. I know you, Gray, and I know why you think you need Faye.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her darkness. You think it’s like yours. You think if you can save yourself then you can save her just as easily. But you can’t. Your heart, though once shrouded in shadows, is pure and full of light. It was only a veil of darkness. I’ve seen Faye’s heart, and it is not pure.” She shivered. “I don’t know what happened to her, some evil training, but she is tainted and loyal to no one! She will betray us when she gets the chance.”
“I can’t believe that…” Gray said, shaking his head, and looking to Darius who sat back, watching the exchange with hard eyes. “You both saved me when I didn’t believe in myself. You gave me hope. Faye needs that as well.”
“No, she doesn’t!” Ayva shouted. “Why do you persist in trying to change things that you cannot change?”
Gray swallowed, unable to answer. “It doesn’t matter.” Every word she said cut through him like a knife carving to his very core. He couldn’t deny it. But it wasn’t the whole truth.
“That’s not it… is it?” she asked, as if reading his mind. Ayva pressed closer. He nearly backed away. Something in the way she moved—fluid, strong, and purposeful. Her hand lingered on his arm as she looked deep into his eyes. “You still think you have a darkness inside you, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what I have inside me,” he answered. “I am still Kail’s progeny, Ayva, no matter what you say.”
Nearby, he saw Darius shuffle uncomfortably. Does he still fear me for that?
Ayva smiled, touching his chest as she looked up at him. How could he ever think she was merely soft? Surely she was soft, but those eyes—they held a coldness too. Her father’s death, her mother’s… How much has she sacrificed to be at my side? She spoke, “Your darkness is gone, Gray. You’re no longer bound by Morrowil’s evil. Saving her does nothing for you. And…” she hesitated, “I think you believe Faye’s redemption is also a way to absolve yourself of Vera’s death.”
“I…” he faltered. “I can’t abandon her, especially not when she’s injured. It doesn’t feel right. Besides, she’s promised peace.”
“And that assuages your fears? Blood and flesh, Gray, the ones we need to fear always say that.”
Gray hesitated, looking at the unconscious Faye. She looked peaceful.
Ayva spoke firmly. “Look at me, Gray.”
He did, and he realized whose eyes they were. Omni’s. It sent a shiver through him.
“You realize that you made the decision to have her with us. Come to think of it, you’ve made just about every decision since we’ve arrived in Farhaven.” She pointed to all three of them. “But we’re a team, Gray. We’re all in this together. Sure we follow you because we believe in you, but when you make decisions like that, you put our lives in danger as well. And then you don’t even consult us? It’s just plain wrong.”
She was right. He had made a decision without them, putting himself above them, and it wasn’t right. He had to fix that, even if it meant doing something else that went against what he believed. “You’re right.”
Ayva’s hand fell from his arm in shock. “I am?”
Again he nodded. “I should have asked you first. We’ll put it to a vote,” he said. “If Darius decides she should go, then that is what we’ll do. Otherwise, she stays.”
Darius leapt to his feet, raising his hands before him defensively, and shaking his head. “Oh no, you two aren’t going to blame this on me.”
“What do you mean?” Ayva asked.
“I don’t like not being in the know on something, but this is different… No matter what I decide, I’m wronging one of you. No, sorry, I don’t want any part of this. Keep Faye, lose Faye, I don’t care, but don’t make me decide or I’ll just dicing choose to kick both of you out, and then we’ll see—”
“—Darius,” Gray said, interrupting the rogue’s rant. “You have to choose. No one will blame you either way.”
“You say that now,” Darius grumbled.
“Please,” Ayva said.
The rogue looked between the two, judging their hard eyes. At last, he sighed. “Fine, but this isn’t fair.” He eyed Faye who lay on the ground, unconscious. Darius scrubbed his chin, cursing to himself. Ayva’s body tensed. “We go on without her,” he said at last into the silence. Ayva breathed a heavy sigh of relief and embraced the rogue.
Gray felt a dark, emptiness inside him as soon as the words left Darius’ mouth.
Darius pulled away. “But!”
“But what…” Ayva asked, obviously trying to contain her enthusiasm.
“We stay with her until she is no longer at death’s door, leave her supplies enough that we are sure she is safe and, lastly, never ever put me in this position again.”
Ayva nodded. “Deal.”
Gray moved away. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ayva.
“Gray…” she said, searching his eyes. “I’m sorry… But this is for the best.”
He kept his face emotionless and gave a nod. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had lost something. It wasn’t just his stubbornness, was it? No, Faye somehow had become more than just an outsider, and she had done nothing wrong. Not yet at least. Leaving her like this… It felt wrong. “If you say so.”
“Gray, don’t be like that,” Ayva said. “She is splintering us. I’m simply removing that splinter.”
“Well, you convinced me,” Darius said, lounging back down on his bedroll. “As long as we find a way to keep our hides intact and make it to Farbs without Faye. She seemed to know every danger these lands hold, and I hope I’m wrong but I’ve a gut feeling that desert ahead has a few surprises for us.”
Ayva kept her hand on Gray’s arm. “That’s the thing, Darius, I’ve prepared for this. I’ve learned more in the past day or so than in all my time in Daerval. I know what lies ahead, at least enough to get us to Farbs. I promise.”
Darius bolted up suddenly and moved to his cormac. “I’ll be back. I forgot my… waterskin… back at that old stump.” With that, he left.
What is he up to? Gray wondered. He knelt beside Faye, putting a hand to her tan skin. It was scorching hot. Grabbing a wet cloth, he patted her forehead. Nearby, he saw a flat piece of bark. On it, a sliver of steel lay covered in blood.
With a sigh, Gray rose, and Ayva touched his arm.
“Gray,” she whispered.
He looked down into her eyes, gaze distant. “Yes?”
“Please, don’t…” she said, pained. “I’ve seen that look of yours before. I don’t like it.”
Gray smiled. “You were right, Ayva. You don’t have to worry.” With that, he grabbed Morrowil. “I’ll take first shift.” And he left her there, looking to get away from that gaze and away from Faye. He needed time to think, to be alone.
You’re always alone, Kirin whispered.
Gray felt a cold fury rise. The voice had helped him this night. He admitted there was no way he could ha
ve done what he had for Faye without Kirin’s aid, but now it mocked him. He silenced it, closing his mind. Gray felt something break, like a door shattering and then laughter.
Kirin’s.
You can’t get rid of me that easily. The closer we get to Farbs, the stronger I become. Besides, you owe me. Don’t forget that.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said calmly, finding a rock to sit on and setting Morrowil on his lap, watching the darkness that no longer watched him. Nevertheless, he wished he had his power. Without it, he did not feel whole. It wasn’t right that he had grown so accustomed to it, even reliant on it, and so quickly. At least I have Morrowil, he thought, feeling the smooth, white handle. He had a flashing memory of Death’s Gate again. He recalled how the hilt had shattered as he had thrust the blade into the altar and stopped the Kage and the rising darkness, simultaneously. He eyed the snow-white handle that seemed to swirl as if made of slow-moving wind. Despite its silken feel, its grip was firm, almost tacky as if his hand and the hilt were one. While the original hilt had shattered, the elves had crafted a new one. Now it felt even more right than before. What is broken can be remade, he thought. Reborn.
He sensed a frustration inside him. Kirin was waiting for an answer.
Stars flickered above like frost bugs caught in a spider’s black webbing. He replied, “I will repay my debt, and then I will cast you from me once and for all.”
Kirin was silent, and then his voice came again, loud and near, as if a hot whisper in his very ear. Ah, but soon you will meet me. Perhaps you will realize I am not something to fear, but to embrace.
“We will see,” Gray said and began his watch.
The Citadel
CRESTING THE GIANT DUNE, GRAY PULLED his cormac to a halt.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Beyond the low, rolling mounds lay a vast city that sprawled for miles. He felt his mouth part in awe. Even from this distance, he could tell those walls were huge, perhaps even taller than the Shining City. Before the outer wall was a sea of green, blue, and red dots—tents and haphazard buildings, a ramshackle smaller city. Smaller, Gray scoffed. A dozen Lakewoods could fit within it with room to spare.
The kingdom took his breath away. “Farbs,” he whispered.
Aside from colorful tents, the Kingdom of Fire blended with the endless desert. It reminded him of a flesh-colored awning, save for one building. A black structure rose above all others. The keep of the Citadel was like a patch of darkness the bright, desert sun had forgotten to banish.
He looked to Ayva at his side. Her eyes watered, taking it all in.
Darius whistled through his teeth. On his back he bore his strange new find. A green sword? Gray wondered. It seemed too coincidental. Not to mention, it reminded him of another man’s sword. Maris’ blade, called Masamune, had looked similar, if less ornate. The rogue had said few words about the blade otherwise, but had glared them each down as if expecting Gray to pry the leaf-shaped blade from his hands. It was almost too much to take in. All he knew for certain was that blade belonged to Darius, just as Morrowil belonged to him. Eyeing Farbs, Darius spoke in wonderment, “Look at that… I never imagined…”
“I had,” Ayva said, shaking her head slowly. “I dreamed nearly every day, trying to picture, to see the Great Kingdoms in my mind—Eldas, Vaster, Seria, Narim, Lander, Covai, Yronia, and of course Morrow and Farbs. And now it’s real,” she whispered. “Finally.”
Darius snorted, resuming his look of indifference, but he kept glancing at Farbs in fear and awe. “Now that we’ve seen it, we can go home, right?”
“This is just the beginning, Darius,” Gray said, and prodded his cormac forward.
“Why do I feel like when you say that it’s just another way of saying, ‘Hey Darius, more daggers will be pressed to your neck’? Speaking of which, why is it always my neck? Maybe next time you can risk your neck and—”
Ayva let out a sudden, joyful cry, racing past them, galloping dangerously fast down the steep dune and raising billowing clouds of dust and sand. Any other animal would have broken its neck and hers, but the cormac took the decline easily.
Gray smiled, and Darius laughed at his side.
“Seems ditching Faye was a good idea after all,” Darius said.
Swaying in his saddle, Gray swallowed. He eyed his hand upon the reins, seeing the mostly healed cut from Faye’s dagger, and a memory took him.
Gray heard a rustle. His heart shot into his throat, and he twisted to see Faye’s eyes crack open. She took in her surroundings. It was the same oasis, but they had set up camp a little more, with a lean-to tent to shelter their supplies, a bigger glowing fire, and a makeshift picket for their cormacs. Nearby, pots and pans hung from a nearby dola tree.
She sat up, squinting. “Gray…?”
He smiled. “Welcome back.”
Faye groaned, falling back. She pushed back her scarlet hair, gazing up at the stars, wide-eyed. “I’m alive,” she said, sounding… disappointed? No, that must have been his imagination.
“Barely,” he answered.
“Where… are the others?”
“Ayva is collecting food, and Darius is looking for more kindling.”
“And you? You’re just sitting here looking miserable while waiting to see if I die or not?”
“Something like that,” he answered. It wasn’t too far from the truth. He had grown more distant lately, watching Faye and waiting to see a change. He hadn’t realized how attached to her he had become. Now, seeing her awake, he felt it was the first time he could smile in days.
Faye groaned. “Will you stop grinning like a fool? It’s giving me a headache.”
He stopped grinning, but laughed. “It’s a pleasure to see you too.”
“Something is chafing like cured leather undergarments,” she grumbled and pushed back her blanket to see his handiwork, eyeing the now bandaged shoulder. It was bloody. You’ll have to change it soon, Kirin whispered. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“Impressed?”
“Not really,” she said. “I could have done better while unconscious, but…” She hesitated. “I suppose it’s not that bad. Thank you.” Her hard eyes softened, if only for a moment.
Gray looked away, feeling his heart race. He chastised himself. It reminded him too much of Vera’s effect, though Faye didn’t seem to be doing it intentionally. At last, he shrugged. “It wasn’t my doing, really. But I’m just glad you’re not dead.”
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said.
He almost laughed, but it died in his throat. She wasn’t kidding, was she?
“I’m joking, Gray. Mostly.”
He cleared his throat, nodding.
Faye sighed and moved to rise.
Gray was quicker though. He pushed her shoulder down, gently but firm. “You’re not going anywhere. You need to rest, Faye, just as I did. Unless you plan on limping to Farbs?”
“Familiar words,” she said with a smirk, and then sighed again. “Watching over me like this, I’ve a sinking feeling this is going to go to your head.”
He hid a smile. “Probably.”
“I’ll be well tomorrow. Then I’ll make you pay for it in training.”
“Training?”
Faye sniffed. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your lessons just because I was about to die. Si’tu’ah awaits, apprentice. And you are getting better, but you are still not a Devari. And don’t forget, even with my help, you will always have to avoid some, like the Leader of the Devari, or you will not survive a day in the Kingdom of Fire.”
Gray choked, and averted his gaze. “I won’t forget.” He rose. “You should rest now, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Without another word, he moved into the darkness and away.
Something touched his arm, the vision broke, and he found himself staring into Ayva’s compassionate blue eyes. He realized she had pulled back, letting Darius ride on ahead. “You look troubled,” she said, emotions churning b
ehind her eyes. What is she thinking? he wondered.
Without thinking, Gray delved into her thoughts using his ki, and nearly gasped. Such light… But beneath that gleaming beacon, he felt worry and a strange desire. It was a yearning to mend, as if she gazed upon a broken pot. Mend what though?
You, you fool, Kirin answered.
Gray squinted, hesitating. He wanted to mend what was between them too, but he wondered how much Ayva thought their fissure was his error, as if he were the broken one and not their joint failing. He felt suddenly slighted by Ayva’s gaze.
A fool’s distinction, Kirin said. Gray was growing tired of the voice calling him a fool.
“I’m not a broken pot,” he said calmly.
He retreated from her mind. Though ki was not an intrusion exactly, more like a higher understanding of another’s feelings, he still felt guilty, as if he had pilfered her thoughts.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied at last. Despite the darkness and guilt he felt, somehow he did believe those words. This path, it felt more right with each passing day. Now seeing Farbs, his task solidified. A new purpose filled him, one that he’d been waiting for… waiting since the day he had to flee Farbs and Farhaven and cross Death’s Gate into Daerval.
That was the day his life had started.
After traveling for a while, the sun sank below the sand’s horizon, and they slowed on a small plateau that looked out over the city. Gray halted. “We’re still hours away. We’ll camp here tonight, outside the Gates,” he announced. He looked at the two of them, remembering the promise he’d made. We’re a team. “If that’s all right?” he added.
Ayva smiled. “Much better. We’ll teach you yet.”
Darius was already dismounting. “Fine by me.” After their makeshift camp was set up, Darius plopped down nearby, humming a simple tune to himself as he began to whittle:
“Oh, simple path,
You hold no sway—
Oh, darkness too,
You’ll find no hold.
Oh, cloud and mist,
I push on through.
