Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Wolf

  He felt Ayva huddle nearer, her warmth giving him comfort.

  “Well, what now?” he asked. “Got any bright ideas?”

  Bright ideas? You’re a genius, Darius.

  “Why thank you,” he answered, speaking to the darkness. “My intellect is often undervalued and, frankly, deserves a bit more respect.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ayva asked. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Sure you did, you said—” Darius froze, realizing she was right. She hadn’t spoken. He tensed, and her hand felt it. “It can’t be…”

  “Darius? What is it?” Ayva asked, sounding nervous.

  “I… think I just heard your thoughts.”

  In the dim, red light, he thought he saw her raise a brow. “Darius, that’s impossible…”

  “I swear I heard something,” he said. “Watch, try it again.”

  “Fine,” she said. And there was a gap of silence. The darkness seemed to hum, and he thought he heard another scratch as if from another Darkwalker, but he knew it was just his imagination. His fear. At last, Ayva spoke, “Well? Did you hear any of that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Darius?”

  He realized she couldn’t see him. Clearing his throat, he replied, “No, I couldn’t.” Odd… I could have sworn…

  “Perhaps the darkness is simply getting to you,” she said.

  “Maybe,” he answered uncertainly.

  “C’mon, we can figure it out later,” Ayva said, gripping his arm reassuringly. “For now, we better find a way out of this pit or we’ll be another one of these bones when Darkeye returns. If only we had more light…” Just then, a tiny spark bloomed in the darkness, like a pinpoint of gold in an otherwise black sky. It grew, slowly, illuminating Ayva’s delicate features and dappled freckles. Darius saw her grin of triumph, and then her face went slack.

  “Ayva? What is it?” he asked.

  Ayva lifted her arm, pointing at something across the pit. Darius turned and his jaw dropped.

  Upon the wall, in flowing, huge letters, words glowed. A script carved into a huge bloodstone set into the wall. Where Ayva’s golden light touched, the letters burned brightly as if yellow flames were contained within the deep red stone. “What is this?” Darius breathed.

  The script was foreign and strange to Darius, but the longer he looked, the more it began to make sense to him. He squinted, mouthing it out, but Ayva was quicker, and she read:

  “THE RIDDLE OF FIRE

  The three will become four:

  Four for the warrior of fire

  Whose strength is fueled by ire.

  But all will fall upon the sands,

  If nature does not find the balance.

  For only the fated bonder of Light

  Can slay the undying Dark.”

  “What does it mean?” he asked, scratching his itchy stubble.

  “I… I’m not sure,” she said, hands playing over the runes. “But it’s prophecy for sure, and it’s definitely ancient.”

  “Faye said this place was created before Farbs was even here,” he said. “Not that we can exactly trust that traitor.”

  “Something tells me this time she’s not far off.”

  Darius whistled through his teeth. “If that’s true, then these words have been around since like… the beginning of time.” He realized Ayva had grown silent. She stood a breath away from the wall, the orb pulsing within her hand. Her eyes were transfixed upon the words. It was a brilliant sight, he admitted. He felt his heart race inside his chest, as if those burning letters were calling to him. But something about the prophecy seemed to pull at her even stronger.

  “C’mon, Ayva,” he voiced, breaking her trance. “We gotta get out of here.”

  “Your power?” she asked.

  He nodded and closed his eyes, reaching into his mind, but the Leaf was nowhere to be seen. “I… I don’t think I can conjure it unless in need,” he admitted, embarrassed.

  “Well, did you try concentrating?” Ayva said.

  He grit his teeth in annoyance. “What did you think I was doing? Closing my eyes to take a nap? I tried concentrating. Besides, something tells me even if I could there’s no vines or roots anywhere near to aid us this time.”

  “Then we’re trapped…”

  “Not yet,” he replied in a growl. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fun if it was easy.” Strapping his sword to his back once more, he leapt, trying to grab onto the gleaming red bloodstones. His fingers slipped free, absent of purchase. The rocks were too small and smooth for a handhold. Stubbornly, he leapt again.

  “It’s useless, Darius…” Ayva said. “Save your energy. We might need it.”

  Darius ground his teeth and continued until he was sweating and his arms and legs grew limp, and he knew his fingers were bleeding. I just need to jump higher… maybe some bloodstones are thicker up there… He grit his teeth and leapt off a bone, but it snapped beneath his weight. He tripped, cutting his hand on sharp bloodstone and falling hard onto the damp earth.

  “Darius…”

  “What am I supposed to do, Ayva?” he breathed. “Just wait until Darkeye comes back to finish us off? I—” he panted, throwing the splintered bone into the darkness, hearing it clatter “—I can’t, Ayva. We’ve come so far… now we’re just supposed to rot in this damned pit?”

  Ayva grabbed his arm and pulled him next to her, silently.

  Darius didn’t resist. Holding back his tears of frustration, he moved to her side. His heart still hammered in anger and exertion, and Ayva rested her head on his shoulder. Feeling Ayva’s warmth, the seconds seemed to pass like hours. But slowly his anger abated as he stared into the darkness. The pain of trying and exerting faded. His exhaustion caught up with him, and his worries melted as sleep took Darius at last.

  Dreams sifted in and out, restless and almost forgotten.

  He dreamt of Sophi’s inn, its long bannister always smooth to the touch save for the scrawled ‘D’ and ‘A’ where he’d tried to carve his name before his beloved caretaker and godmother caught him. He dreamt of Lakewood’s placid lake, trolling fishing boats skimming the glassy water… of sweet apple pies and burnt fingers and more scolding. Of Sophi cramming him into his Sunday best, forced to mingle with townsfolk in the center green. The faces were all a blur, as if lost in time. Why can’t I see them? his mind wondered as he itched, wanting to be back in his comfortable black rags and dark green cloak… What dark green cloak? He didn’t wear a cloak, and he hated green.

  Memories started to blur and bleed together.

  Of the long trek to the Shining City and the stinging wind and snow while playing Cyn against the hermit Mura… He felt the darkness of those days again settling like a suffocating blanket… Running and never knowing what terror was around the corner or biting at his heels… Next he saw the Elvin camp behind Death’s Gates, but instead of Karil inside her tent he saw Sophi. She turned, wearing that knowing smile. Could it be? She’d survived the chaos of Lakewood? He ran to her, heart pounding. But just as he reached her, she faded and became the face of the Ronin, Maris, with his flame-like white hair and his mischievous eyes, watching him without word.

  When Darius awoke it was still dark as pitch. Confusion took hold, expecting to see his tiny cot and the once-familiar furnishings of Sophi’s inn. But then he remembered where he was… His head fell back with a sigh. He wanted to sleep again, to escape the darkness, and retreat back to a simpler time, but he knew that time was long past. He let Lakewood’s tranquil memories fade, as if he was saying goodbye to a close friend and took in his surroundings once more.

  Ayva was still asleep with her head nestled into his now numb arm. He freed his tingling limb to gently rest her head against the pit’s dirt wall. In the bloodstone’s light, her freckled skin seemed paler, her features more gaunt, but he knew it was just his imagination.

  Darius turned his attention to the pit.

  Right, now to escape… he thought, scratching his
stubble. Think like Gray, he’d have some foolproof plan involving magic and bravery and… He growled. Dicing, Gray. Where are you and your white-knight antics when I need you most? But beneath his cursing and frustration, he missed the fool hero. He hoped by now Gray was safe with his grandfather. He sighed, brushing the dirt off his hands and rising.

  Bone-weary, Darius approached the wall. He gripped the bloodstone but his fingers slipped free once more. Sucking in a thin breath of pain he felt his palms—dried blood, from my failed previous attempts. With a sigh, he tried to think. Reaching into his pocket Darius felt something prickly and metallic. He pulled it out and in the dull red light saw the glimmer of gold—the shard of the Elvin King’s crown, the gift from Karil. That’s not much use here. In his other pocket he felt a piece of string. Well, that’s helpful, he thought sarcastically. Lastly, in his cloak’s pocket, he found a dried piece of cheese he’d stolen from one of the many inns and wrapped in wax paper. He was hungry but not starving yet and knew he’d need to save it.

  Behind him, there was a rustle.

  “You awake?” Ayva called.

  “No,” he said. “I think I’m stuck in a nightmare.”

  “I think we’re in the same nightmare then,” Ayva replied. “Mind pinching me?”

  He gave a soft chuckle, but then he felt his anger rise. “Only too gladly. Maybe then I’ll realize only in a dream would we follow a raving mad woman—a woman who tried to kill me, sell me, then ultimately shackled us as prisoners and betrayed us.”

  “Don’t…” Ayva seethed.

  He turned and in the dim red light he saw she was gripping one of the bones, the brittle bone cracking from her anger. And he realized for Ayva that subject was still too sore.

  Darius nodded to himself. The betrayal pained him too, sharp and sickening like bile on his tongue. He sat in the dirt cross-legged, facing Ayva. “Perhaps when the dream shatters then this silly notion of being a Ronin will shatter with it…”

  “Do you…” Ayva began. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” he answered truthfully.

  Ayva shivered and he neared, sitting at her side once more.

  “Do you fear it?” Ayva voiced into the darkness.

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

  She gave a breath, as if in relief. He was glad to share the burden as well. “I’m afraid of it, but as with most things I can’t help but be curious,” she whispered. “Why me? Why us? And why now?”

  Why us? The answer rung inside Darius’ head. “Ayva, do you remember when we followed Gray to Tir Re’ Dol?” Or where it once stood, his mind amended. They had traveled through the Shining City’s secret tunnels to the capital city of Tir Re’ Dol to find Gray… only to discover their friend amid a ruined heap of stone and sorrow, a testament to the Kage’s true evil.

  In the dim light, she nodded, confused. “Yes, why?”

  “Well, your question—why us? Did you ever wonder why we followed him back then?”

  “That’s obvious. Because he was our friend.”

  “Is it that simple?”

  “What else?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t it seem strange that we knew Gray for all of one day and the next thing we know were at each other’s sides, riding with legends away from everything we’ve ever known?”

  “We had no choice,” she said, irritated. “Lakewood was set on fire… our home was burning before our very eyes, Darius.”

  “And yet… why us? You asked it. Why us instead of any other villager? Timing? Coincidence? Why two youths nearly Gray’s age?”

  In the murky red, Ayva’s eyes narrowed, catching his implication. “What are you saying?”

  “Isn’t it just a tad too coincidental? Why did we all feel so close? You know me, or at least knew of me, I haven’t had a friend since…” he hesitated, swallowing his words. “I never had a lot of friends, and yet, with us it was different, the opposite.”

  “A crisis can do that… people stick together and—”

  Darius shook his head “No, not like this, Ayva. Be honest with yourself. Do you really remember that trip to Tir Re’ Dol?” She hesitated, looking into herself. “Because I don’t. I barely remember asking Mistress Hitomi where Gray went. Why would she tell us?”

  “I don’t know,” Ayva said.

  “It was the way you asked her. There was power in your voice, a strange conviction I’ve never heard before except from one other person…” He didn’t need to say who. “And that’s not the half of it. The Sodden Tunnels, do you remember traversing those to get to Gray? Again, I don’t,” he said with emphasis. “So you might want to ask yourself, did we truly travel to Tir Re’ Dol to save Gray of our own will? Or were we pulled?”

  There was a long silence and he wondered if what he said was just nonsense, partly wishing he could take it back, when Ayva whispered, “You’re right. I’m not sure how I didn’t see it until now, but you’re right.” She breathed a sigh as if a weight from her shoulders was sloughed free. “I knew something felt odd about that night and it’s been nagging me ever since, but until you voiced it…”

  “It’s a tad frightening, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

  “A bit. But then what’s pulling us?”

  “Fate,” he answered. The single word bounded off the walls, reminding them and emphasizing the words that were emblazoned on the walls, but now were dark and silent, watching them. To soften the moment, Darius added, “And perhaps dumb luck in my case.”

  Ayva laughed. “You know, you’re far smarter than you ever let anyone know.”

  Part of him blushed, glad for the darkness hearing how sincere her voice was, but he couldn’t resist, “And a lot cuter?”

  “Don’t push it,” she grumbled, but then smiled. “But I’m glad you’re still your normal self. Now,” she said, throwing the bone at the wall and hearing it clatter hollowly. “Have any infinite wisdom on how to get out of here?”

  Darius eyed his hands, feeling their sting. “Running low,” he answered. “What do you have in your pockets?”

  Ayva rifled around and came up with her translucent dagger. “I almost forgot I had this. I guess it’s not much help. How about you?”

  He shook his head. “Not much.”

  They talked out ideas, from trying to use their blades as stepping stones, to creating a makeshift ladder out of the bones, piling them as high as possible, and more… In the end, their efforts netted Darius only a few more scratches and a lot more frustration.

  “It’s no use,” Ayva said at last, sitting in an exasperated heap.

  He couldn’t agree more. Rage and frustration and exhaustion welled together but he forced himself to take a breath and replied, “It’s no use wearing ourselves out any longer. Get some more sleep, perhaps then we can approach it with a fresh mind and a few less bruises.”

  As he turned around, he saw Ayva was already asleep. He smiled to himself and knelt at her side, unpinning his cloak and draping it over her body. As he did, she whispered softly, talking in her sleep.

  “Papa…”

  In the light of the bloodstones he watched a tear roll down her round cheek. He felt her pain, debated waking her, but instead moved to wipe the tear away. Before he could, Ayva’s body rolled towards him and she snuggled into the crook of his arm. Darius sat frozen. “Uh…” he whispered. She nestled deeper, making a soft sound.

  With a breath he smiled and gripped her tighter, then let exhaustion take him, falling back into the darkness of the pit and the abyss of sleep. Hours passed, Darius passing in and out of sleep. Day and night all became one long blur in the darkness. It could have been one day or one week, Darius had no clue, when he awoke for what he thought was the second time. Or was it the third?

  Ayva was playing with her power, gently tossing a sputtering orb of light from one hand back to the other.

  “You’re getting good at that,” he remarked, still tired. It was impossible to get real sleep without
ever seeing light.

  The ball sputtered and died as Ayva startled in surprise. “I…” she began and then shrugged. “It’s nothing really.”

  Confusion marked Ayva’s features as Darius gently unfurled her palm. Slowly, the orb of light grew once more, lighting their features. “That’s not nothing.”

  She smiled as well, but the ball flickered. “I can only hold it for so long. I can feel it slowly draining me. But it’s worth it—worth fighting this awful darkness even for a second, for a glimmer of light…”

  Darius felt the panic in her words. Looking closer in the light, he realized he wasn’t wrong about before. Ayva did look gaunter, paler, as if she was slowly being drained of life. “Ayva…”

  “I know,” she said and groaned. “I must look awful.”

  “What is happening?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “Maybe I’m sick; you should probably stay away from me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shuffling nearer. “Besides, what could you have caught? I’ve been at your side all this time. I think it’s just the darkness, playing with our minds. It’s easy to feel out of sorts in this wretched perpetual night.”

  She nodded. “Maybe.”

  His stomach grumbled again. “Dice, I’m starving.”

  Ayva laughed, stomach growling in unison. “Me too…” she whispered, and her voiced turned from forlorn to hopeful. “You know what sounds good? I could really go for one of Mistress Hitomi’s hrofi dishes right now… Maybe some buttered bread still warm from the oven…”

  “Or some of that duck in that strange brown sauce simmered in herbs…?”

  “How about those roasted vegetables?”

  “Exactly!” Darius exclaimed. “Carrots glazed in brown sugar, roasted yams…”

  Ayva laughed softly. “You do have a good memory.”

  Darius tapped his noggin and made a hollow sound with his mouth. “Like a steel trap.”