Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Wolf

  He got a small chuckle out of Ayva and felt a shred of hope, but then her sigh followed, long and tired. “I’d settle for anything at this point… ”

  Suddenly, Darius remembered the cheese in his pocket.

  Excitedly he grabbed it.

  He broke the piece in two, and felt the two sizes. One was clearly bigger. His stomach growled again, eating away at itself like a ravenous creature. It was painful. He’d never felt so much pain from hunger, and a large part of him had trouble not wolfing down the whole meager slice of food.

  Ayva’s stomach growled again.

  He handed her the bigger of the two slices.

  “Where did you get this?” she said in amazement.

  “I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Ayva wasted no time, putting out her light and eating the cheese hungrily. He followed suit. Suddenly Ayva launched into a fit of coughs, doubling over in pain.

  Darius dropped the cheese, grabbing her. “Ayva!” He didn’t know what to do. At last the coughing ceased. “What is happening to you?”

  “I… I think it’s the darkness.”

  “The darkness?”

  She nodded in the dim red light. “I can feel it pressing in around me, like fingers around my heart… I…” she coughed into her palm, it sounded frail and rattled. As she lifted her fingers to the bloodstone’s light, Darius saw blood. Ayva’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m afraid, Darius. I can’t stay here much longer…”

  He heard her words but for once in his life he didn’t have an answer.

  She was speaking again, but his mind was elsewhere.

  There was a clatter as a rock skittered into the pit. In his delirious state Darius wasn’t sure if it was real or a dream or if he’d already passed into another realm. A scuffle sounded above, feet against dirt, and his rattled mind finally put the pieces together.

  Darkeye had returned.

  * * *

  Lucky grabbed Dared and closed his eyes, holding him to the unlit torch.

  Please work, he thought again. Nothing. Dared was silent, just like his name. But Lucky knew he was there somewhere. Maybe he was just sleeping? The statue did make funny noises sometimes like snoring. He squeezed his eyes harder. Work!

  Vfoof!

  The torch roared to life, flames burning and banishing the darkness. He smiled in success, and pocketed the magical statue that he’d begun to call Dared. He thought the statue enjoyed having a name, and it seemed the right name too—Dared, the Ronin of moon, was always quiet but deadly like a shadow… or so the stories said. Naming the little figure of a man who gripped a too-big sword was the least he could do. After all, the statue had saved his life almost a dozen times already. Again, he thanked Zane, though still he felt guilty for thieving it. I’ll give it back soon, I promise, he thought again, but a part of him didn’t want to let Dared go.

  Lucky squinted into the scary darkness, but saw nothing. He was sure he had heard someone! Hadn’t he? Dared promised they were down here! Just then, there was a scraping sound. Yes, someone was down there. But what if they were bad, like the others of Darkeye’s foul clan? His heart thumped inside his chest. Again, his legs itched to flee. He could take Dared and hide, find a small nook to call home and live in peace.

  But Dared pulsed, urging him forward.

  He took a big breath and leaned forward, “Anyone alive down there?”

  A light from within bloomed to life, brightening the pit, revealing a young man, and girl, and a pile of bones. “Yes,” the young woman said. “Who are you?”

  “Lucky,” he said with a smile.

  “What are you doing down here, Lucky? It isn’t safe,” she said worriedly.

  She sounds nice, Lucky thought, smiling.

  But could he trust them?

  Inside his pocket, the statue grew warm, as if speaking to him again. Yes. Trust these two, it resonated, not in words but in feelings. Lucky sighed again. Well, the statue had led him this far. Fine, but you better know what you’re talking about, Dared.

  The young woman was speaking again. “I don’t know how you got here, but you have to leave! There are bad men down here, and if they find you, they’ll kill you.”

  And Lucky smirked. “I know, and that’s why I’m here to save you.”

  “You… what?”

  Lucky wasted no time. He hopped to his feet and moved to grab the rope Dared had told him to bring, when he heard a voice in the distance. He stumbled towards it fearfully, only to see a familiar face in the darkness of a cell. Sandy brown hair, sun darkened skin and sharp, hard eyes. Just like Shade’s. It couldn’t be. Hannah. He rushed to the prison. “Hannah! Are you all right? Dared was right, you are here!”

  “Lucky?” she voiced, baffled. “How in the…”

  “Um, it’s a long story,” he said, scratching his head. “I promise I’ll tell you it all later. For now, I’m sure Shade is really worried about you, and I don’t want him mad at me for getting us caught.”

  “Zane?” she questioned, gripping the jail’s bars suddenly.

  “Yep! Now stand back, okay? I’m gonna free you, but I don’t want Dared to hurt you.”

  Hannah scoffed, sounding like her brother. “Dared, the Ronin? And how exactly are you going to free me? Don’t get me wrong, this is the bravest thing anyone’s ever done for me, but that lock is bigger than your head.”

  And Lucky simply grinned. Fishing Dared out, he held him against the lock. Pressing his eyes shut, he growled, Work! The fat little man with his sword began to glow red and another tiny burst of flame flew forth, exploding the lock.

  Hannah threw open the door, rushed forward, and scooped him up. “Lucky, I’ve no idea what you just did, but I could kiss you!” His cheeks bloomed red and he squawked in protest, and thankfully, she set him down. “C’mon, let’s save the others!”

  They rushed back to the edge of the pit.

  The girl’s light shone still, beating back the darkness.

  “Need a little help?” Hannah called.

  “Thank Lokei…” the young man breathed.

  “Hurry!” the girl called. “We don’t know how much time we have until Darkeye returns!”

  Finding the nearby rope, they tossed it down and hauled them up.

  They stood at the edge of the pit.

  Lucky eyed the two and shivered. They had the look of heroes. The young woman was kind and pretty—with brown hair, bright blue eyes and freckles, but her eyes held a faint golden sheen. Her fist opened and another orb of light burst forth. It reminded him of the scary blue stone, but he knew she was good. The young man at her side didn’t seem as nice. He scratched his wild brown hair, looking confused. But sizing him up, he could tell he was strong, and… his jaw dropped. That sword! The young man held a sword that made Lucky’s hands sweat—a green blade that looked made for a king!

  Hannah let out a breath of relief. “Thank the spirits you’re alive! I was so afraid.”

  “Alive, sure,” Darius scoffed. “Yet for how long? We’re out of the pit, but how exactly are we getting out of here? If we leave the way we came, we’re surely doomed. We got through that mess barely with Faye’s help and, save for Adorry’s death, I think that whole thing was a lie—a grand, staged rehearsal to bring us into Darkeye’s clutches.” And he sneered in anger.

  Hannah turned to Lucky, kneeling. “Wait a second, how exactly did you get in here, Lucky?”

  “Oh right, that’s the best part!” he said, and pointed straight above them to the sound of trickling water that echoed through the grand caverns. Just then the sound of footsteps sounded faintly in the distance. In his palm, Dared grew warm again. “There’s no time to explain, this way!”

  * * *

  Lucky reached the surface first, clambering out of the drainage pipe to stand in the cold shade of a back alley. On his heels, Darius and the others scrambled out of the hole, eyeing the sun as if seeing it for the first time as they absorbed their new surroundings.

  “Sun
light,” Ayva said, breathing in the warm desert air while wiping damp sand from the knees of her tan breeches. “How long were we down there?”

  “Too long,” Darius replied.

  “I’d say two days in full,” said Ayva. “Aside from those hours in that cursed pit, Faye seemed to be stalling us, but for what reason, I know not… The others must be worried sick.”

  Nearby, there was a pipe leaking rainwater runoff and Lucky cleaned himself beneath the dirty water, shaking like a dog.

  “I can’t believe we did it!” Hannah exclaimed. “I was so afraid when I heard Darkeye throw you into the pit, Ayva. But you were so brave. In all my life, I’ve never heard anyone speak like that. You stood up to Darkeye and spat in his face! And then…” She shivered as if remembering something terrible. “When I heard you fall, I feared the very worst. I thought you’d been killed.”

  Ayva’s eyes looked haunted too, but she shook her head and eyed Darius. “And I would have been if it wasn’t for Darius.”

  Darius smirked. “Why, you’re welcome.”

  “I didn’t thank you,” she said. He grumbled, opening his mouth to retort when she hugged him deeply. “But that was truly brave.”

  “It was nothing,” he said, waving it off, but Lucky thought he saw his cheeks redden, “still, I wasn’t the one who got us out of the cursed pit.”

  Ayva nodded, turning to Lucky. “Right. Who is this brave young man?”

  “A Lost One, like me and Zane,” Hannah explained.

  “A Lost One and a hero,” Ayva countered.

  Lucky puffed out his chest, feeling pride to the pit of his stomach. He felt as if he was about to float from the ground any second. I can get use to this hero business. Better than the nasty streets, anyway.

  “Well, where to now?” said Hannah.

  Lucky cleared his throat, opening his mouth.

  “We need to find Gray,” said the roguish one, interrupting, looking over Lucky’s head into the busy desert streets beyond, gripping his leaf-blade tighter. “By now, they’ve surely saved Ezrah with Victasys’ help.”

  “But they could be anywhere,” said Ayva, pulling her brown hair behind her ear, biting her lip.

  “Then where do we start?”

  “Ahem!” Lucky coughed loudly, and they turned to him at last. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

  “What do you mean?” Hannah asked.

  He sighed, his hands balling into fists. “Dared knows where to go! He can find your friends.”

  “Dared?” Ayva questioned, raising a thin brow.

  Lucky smiled and whipped out the pudgy little statue of a man with a flourish. “Dared! He’s my best friend in the whole world.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Uh oh… he thought. Bad idea! “That’s Zane’s! Lucky… How on earth did you get it?” His eyes darted, looking for a way out. No, I can’t get away. I’ll have to lie. Lies flew into his head, but Dared spoke.

  The truth, Lucky, the statue ordered.

  He sighed again. “All right, I stole it, okay? But I swear I was going to give it back! When I heard Darkeye was keeping you prisoner, Hannah, I knew I had to be brave like Shade and save you… It was Dared that led me to you. Thanks to him, I learned about the water pipes that wormed deep into the Lair of the Beast, and into that strange cavern. But there’s no time for the whole story, I’ll explain the rest later, okay?”

  “Why later?” Darius asked.

  “Because Dared says we’re running out of time. We have to get to your friends. Shade needs us!” he said in a hurry and turned, heading down the dusty alley. He looked back.

  They all watched him, looking to one another, confused.

  “I swear I’m not lying! Well, this time at least.”

  “He did save us,” Darius said, shrugging.

  “Hm. And that statue is magic,” Hannah said.

  Ayva bent down and touched his shoulder. “Okay, Lucky. Lead the way.”

  “Right then!” He said proudly. “Follow me and keep up!” With that, he barreled down the dirt road, moving into Farbs—its familiar sights and smells, the others on his heels—listening to Dared’s orders as they twisted and turned, moving deeper into the Nobles’ District.

  At last, they reached an adobe house with vines crawling up the outside walls.

  There was a strange amount of activity outside, men and women coming and going on foot and on horses. A cart with a wiry-haired man in its driver’s seat sat outside. The foolish man was arguing with a scarlet robed Reaver of all things. Doesn’t the old man know that’s how you get turned into a newt or something worse? Just then a few Devari, disguised as merchants, broke from the busy street, entering the house’s big double gates. Lucky watched, taking in the courtyard beyond. The green grounds were abuzz—servants, Reavers, and Devari storming about, as if preparing. Tension hung in the air. And even Lucky knew that feeling… It was just like the night the Lost Ones’ home had been attacked.

  It felt like danger.

  It felt like war.

  In Lucky’s palm, his fingers grew sweaty, tightening nervously around the little man. Dared grew hot—as if in welcome. And he announced with a gulp, “We’re here…”

  Inside the Mind of Madness

  SITHEL SHUFFLED FORWARD, DRAGGING HIS BAD leg like a wooden stump. He hated that thing. He’d asked his dark master to fix it but had only received the sinister reply that it would serve as a reminder of his weakness.

  Weakness, Sithel cursed as he moved though the grand halls of the Citadel, ignoring the dozens of Devari and dark Reavers who moved at his side. It is a curse upon mankind borne by fear… the fear to do what is necessary, to sacrifice anything to become something more… I will not be weak anymore. The words sounded familiar to that day so long ago, and his vision was pulled away, ignoring the green courtyard and his lavish surroundings, lost in a world of dust, chaos, and brutality.

  “Diaon,” the fat man barked, “Grab me the tongs.” Those words and the hissing steam of the bellows pulled Sithel out of his reverie, bringing him back to the dismal real world. He fell back into the sounds of toil all around him—strange beasts and men slogging through the ever-crowded streets beyond the small tent, sweating in the high sun. The smell of sweat, dirt, and blood was thick in the air.

  Again, the bellows hissed.

  This was the tenth apprenticeship he’d had in less than a year. As an orphan of Covai, he had no choice but to move on each time, accepting his allotted place. He could barely remember each horrible memory as they blurred together: the stench of dead animal from the tannery with those noxious dyes that stained his body for months, or the tailor who made his hands numb with tireless needlework, his words harsh and belittling for every mistake, but this, Sithel knew, was the worst.

  The fat man’s small blacksmith tent was cramped and messy, just like any one of the thousands of shops in the largest trading hub in all of Farhaven. A district of a much greater whole—it was the city of Covai, a Great Kingdom, and home to the element of Flesh, a brutal city of life and death, where one toiled and worked their fingers to the bone to get by; or one didn’t, and died. Sithel had known that for all of his dozen summers that he’d been alive, but he never wanted to believe it.

  He wanted to believe in something more.

  Beyond, through a gap in the tent, Sithel glimpsed the vision of the merchant’s terrace—a segment of Covai that was high above them, like gods watching down upon their creations. It was a place full of wealth and power, with buildings of gleaming gold, silver, and bronze, and terraced balconies, each a castle in its own right. Beyond that, in the greater distance, he saw the infamous Ren Nar Cliffs of the now-forgotten Morrow—the lost Great Kingdom of Wind, shattered during the war.

  Suddenly, something smacked him in the back of the head, pain exploding as his vision flashed as he fell to the ground. When his vision returned, he realized he was coughing dust through his mouth and felt something wet—his blood, trickling from hi
s nose. He looked up into the brutish, sweating face of his Sunha—his master. The man was furious, his eyes bulging and jowls jiggling with red-faced fury.

  “You!” his Sunha bellowed. “This is the last time you daydream before me! I’ve had enough of it!”

  Sithel looked up slowly, spitting blood. He wasn’t willing to give the man a name. He was just one of hundreds of cruel, pitiless men caught up in this pathetic race, clambering to survive. Sithel was more than that. He knew it, but others didn’t yet. He sneered inwardly, gripping the dirt, trying to assume a servile face. They would know, but not yet… Eyes to the ground, Sithel tried to murmur a false apology. “I’m sorry, Master,” he groveled, trying to rise to his knees.

  “My patience has reached its limit with you, Diaon,” the man sneered.

  “Forgive me, please. It won’t happen again, I swear—”

  “—Enough of your lies!” Sunha shouted, ramming his foot into the small of Sithel’s back, creating a shooting pain like he’d never felt before. He’d felt pain, surely, but nothing like this. He tried to catch a breath but couldn’t. His eyes watered, tears flowing down his face and mixing with the sweat and dirt. He waited for it to abate, but it wouldn’t, and he heard himself continue to cry. This only made his Sunha angrier. “You little, sniveling coward!” the man shouted, grabbing a red-hot prong from the nearby glowing furnace. Crowds beyond paid no mind, moving past the tent as if seeing nothing—a Sunha could do this to his Diaon. It was the law of the land. The law of Covai. His Sunha pressed the hot prong into his back.

  And Sithel screamed. Hot tears burst anew as he writhed in anguish. If only he could catch a breath… He was suffocating, his vision blurring, lights flashing. Distantly, the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. Let it end… his mind begged distantly.

  Let it all end….

  But a part of Sithel, as his body thrashed uncontrollably, dying quickly, was still gazing above, at the merchant’s terrace, towards power and wealth. His Sunha jabbed, over and over, until he felt his limbs stop moving and his breathing slow. At last, he realized the man had stopped, and he took a ragged breath. “I…” he tried to breathe. “Can’t take anymore.”