Fire Walker

by Trudie Skies

  The man chuckled. “Oh, you take that celibacy vow seriously?”

  “Who is he? Do you know him?” Mina asked.

  “His eyes give him away.”

  At that, the amber-eyed man stopped laughing and real concern flickered over his face.

  “He’s an Ash Maker,” Jonan said.

  An Ash Maker? That couldn’t be possible. They were a Dusland tribe, brutal men who killed for sport. Even Housemen knew to fear them. “But he’s Solander?”

  “Not all Ash Makers are Duslander. Why are you here?”

  “Are we talking spiritually or—”

  Jonan pressed his blade into the man’s chest and snarled.

  “I’m one of you, aren’t I?” the Ash Maker spluttered. “The guards were throwing anyone with fire magic in here—”

  “Where are you from?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  With a subtle twist of the wrist, Jonan’s sword turned so the sharp edge pressed against the man’s shirt and dug into the cloth.

  “I was just passing through! You think I wanted to be trapped in here with the rest of you lot? Not like I have a choice, do I?”

  “You’re an Ash Maker? You?” she said.

  He turned his grin to her. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Priestess.”

  She gave her best look of disgust. If he were an Ash Maker, he should have recognized her own silver eyes marking her as a Lunei—the tribe his people hunted down and murdered years ago. It was the Ash Makers who had forced the few remaining Lunei to scatter to the wind and hide. This one’s teeth were crooked, as was his nose and some of his fingers—a scrapper. The mark of a street rat. Which meant he was likely trouble. “Do you have a name, Ash Maker?”

  “That’s a personal question.”

  “Answer it.”

  “So you can mark my grave?”

  Grave? This stranger truly was an Ash Maker. Dustan’s tales spoke of their odd perversion for leaving their dead to rot rather than burning them. It was an affront to Lune, he’d said, though she hadn’t realized just how perverse it was until she’d embraced her Lunei blood and began to deal with the Shadows herself.

  “We burn our dead in civilized society. As you’re about to find out.”

  “Ouch. She bites. Careful, Priestess, I bite back.” He winked.

  Jonan sighed. “He’s a fool. Do you want me to gut him? No one will miss him.”

  “Whoa now. My ma would.”

  Mina examined her nails. “You’re right, he’s a fool. I wasn’t going to start my reign as High Priestess by scrubbing blood from the walls, but Rahn may appreciate the sacrifice.”

  “I wouldn’t want to dirty your walls, Priestess. Drag me to your palace up the hill and gut me there. They seem like the sort to appreciate it.”

  Definitely a fool. But Ash Maker or not, he was a Fire Walker and that made him her responsibility. “Let him go. I’m sure Samira will keep an eye on him. And if he should try anything inappropriate, I’ll personally paint these walls red. Understood?”

  Jonan lowered his blade. The Ash Maker straightened his tunic. “Garr.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name, Priestess.” He held out his hand. “I’m Garr.”

  She looked at his hand and snorted. “You’re no prince.” She turned heel and headed for the temple doors, resisting the urge to glance back.

  “You’re not changing?” Samira called.

  “I’m already late for this gods-damn meeting. But we’ll do it your way. Later.” She shoved the temple doors open.

  Jonan followed her outside into the harsh Rahnlight. “Be careful with that one. Ash Makers are trouble.”

  “You don’t need to tell me.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “They destroyed the Lunei. I’m aware of who they are and what they are capable of. How do you know so much about them?”

  “They’re my ancestors. House Rhaesbond. And the Bright Solara.”

  “Wait, House Rhaesbond and the Bright Solara are descended from the Ash Makers?”

  “Long, long ago. All Sandarians are descended from one of the old tribes.”

  “So you’re related to the Bright Solara?”

  “Me? No. But House Rhaesbond came from the same tribe in the early days of Sandair, and our women often married into the Bright Solara. Including many ancient queens.”

  Which meant Prince Ravel likely inherited Rhaesbond blood. No wonder he was so fascinated, and repulsed, by House Rhaesbond’s history. His veins carried Ash Maker blood as well. Like Jonan’s.

  “That explains why you’re so lovable. Why don’t you have amber eyes?”

  Jonan smirked. “My ancestors did. But it’s not like there are many of us left to keep the bloodline pure. My great-grandmother was born with amber eyes. She’s the last Rhaesbond who ever will be.”

  “And you’re sure that fool isn’t a Rhaesbond cousin, however distantly? He could be related to those rogue Fire Walkers.”

  “No. They’re dead. All of them. But the Ash Makers could be involved in these alleged attacks. It might not be a coincidence that this Garr showed up in our temple. If so, things are about to get bloody.”

  20

  THE WAR COUNCIL

  By the time Mina arrived in the Council chamber, only one chair remained empty: between the High Priestess of Lune and Gai.

  “You’re late, High Priestess.” Prince Ravel sat at the red corner of the table beside Talin. “Well, it’s not because you changed attire.”

  Mina bowed. “Forgive me, my lords. I—”

  “Spare us your excuses, woman,” Farzad Fellbond said. His thick hand gripped a goblet. “Sit and take your place.”

  She fought the urge to grab her sword and remind Farzad Fellbond of his defeat in the last tournament. A sharp warning burned through the bond from Talin. She ducked her head and slid into her chair beside the High Priestess of Lune.

  Salasar’s wife took Mina’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t mind him,” she whispered. “It’s the only way he can make himself feel important. I’m Karina, and that’s Yasmin.” She nodded to the Gaislander High Priestess, who nodded back. “We priestesses have to stick together.”

  Mina forced a smile and turned her attention to the meeting. Her first official Council meeting.

  Talin resumed a discussion she’d apparently interrupted with her entrance—preparations for what each House would be doing to contribute to the war effort. Mina expected each House to take turns and discuss their positions like civilized adults. But this meeting was more like a rowdy bazaar.

  Housemen jeered and argued with one another, shouting until the loudest voices—most often Farzad Fellbond or Salasar, she noted—dominated the rest. Insults were wielded as weapons. The smaller Housemen were brow-beaten into accepting whatever concessions were demanded of them.

  She leaned her head close to Karina. “Is this normal?”

  Karina rubbed her swollen belly. “Sadly.”

  “Do we get a say in what’s going on?”

  “When we’re asked, which is rare. The King is good for including us, but your father… he looks tired.”

  Mina cast a glance to Talin, his head leaning against his left fist. Had he been sleeping these past few days? He was still the King’s sorran—Lune knew why—and the King’s weakness could have been affecting him. Prince Ravel conducted the meeting with vigor, content to let Talin watch from the sidelines. She nudged him through the bond, and his gaze met hers. He offered the briefest of smiles and sat up, returning to the meeting at hand.

  Discussion moved on as Talin agreed with the Guardian of Gai that he should return to Gaisland to mobilize their men there, which annoyed the Prince, to Mina’s satisfaction. She couldn’t keep up with the military tactics they spoke of, but from what she grasped, they planned to march the bulk of Sandair’s forces north, up the Cold Path, and to prepare for Hartnord ships landing on the Rub
y Coast.

  She was surprised by how quickly each House volunteered their resources. She’d lived under Houseman banners long enough to know they taxed their poor to feed their lavish lifestyles, but she’d never considered they’d offer their own gold so readily to help the war effort. Some were more generous than others. Many loved their Queen and wanted blood.

  Others, such as House Fellbond, negotiated their contributions in a way that would profit their Houses later—loaning gold and lending steel to the Bright Solara. House Nasbond offered their horses as an investment. The Gaisland Houses offered a percentage of crops for free.

  All were in agreement that they wanted this war over before the rains of Lune’s Shadow arrived and made fighting miserable. Their cold efficiency at organizing war was impressive, but then, they’d fought these battles before.

  Prince Ravel called them to order. “Our next item of business—the Fire Walkers.”

  Mina sat up.

  “High Priestess of Rahn.” Prince Ravel said the words with such scorn that it made her teeth grind. “This Council has three tasks for the temple. One, that you gather and organize your Fire Walkers in preparation for the march north. Two, that you lead the march personally and prepare them for battle. And three, that you publicly renounce the actions of your rogue acolyte and apologize.”

  “You expect me to apologize for something I didn’t do?”

  “I expect you to represent the Fire Walkers and apologize on their behalf. We must show the people that Fire Walkers are under our control. The law is still in effect. Any Fire Walker caught refusing submission should be put down. Are you prepared to uphold the law and execute deserters, High Priestess?”

  Mina squeezed her hands in her lap. She had no intention of executing anyone, but she’d worry about that later. “If it becomes necessary, my Prince.”

  “More Fire Walkers are being brought to the temple each day. I believe your men are overseeing this effort in Solus, Lord Salasar?”

  Salasar grunted in reply.

  “We cannot afford to spare the city guard for rounding up Fire Walkers whilst they prepare for the march north,” the Prince continued. “It’s a waste of our resources at this critical time. You have three days, Lord Salasar, to flush them out. After that, any Fire Walker caught outside the temple must be assumed to be a rogue in league with House Rhaesbond, or whoever it is that’s using their name.”

  Salasar hesitated, then jerked his head in agreement.

  “Can we expect the High Priestess’s support on this?” Farzad Fellbond said with a leering grin. “After all, your House has a soft spot for them.”

  She met Farzad’s leer with her own scowl. “The law is the law. If there are rogue Fire Walkers out there—and forgive me, my Prince, but I’ve yet to see evidence—as High Priestess I’d sooner handle it myself.” At least if she led her own investigation, she could determine the truth without violence and torture. Perhaps Gareth could help.

  The Prince raised an eyebrow. “You’re offering to hunt down these monsters personally?”

  “If it please you, my Prince. The Temple of Rahn is my responsibility.”

  The Prince smirked, and she couldn’t help but feel she’d walked into another one of his traps. “You heard our Priestess, Lord Salasar. She is willing to bow to your command on this matter. Make whatever arrangements you deem necessary. Whilst we’re on the subject of contributions, don’t waste too much time hunting, High Priestess. You’re still needed to prepare your Fire Walkers for battle. All Fire Walkers.”

  “Not all Fire Walkers are able to fight, my Prince—”

  “But all can contribute to the war effort in some way. I expect you to work with the temples of each House. Those inside Dusland temples, for example, should be brought north. They serve no use in the desert. I believe your House has an ample collection.”

  Her heart thumped. He wanted the people of Arlent on the front lines, ready for the slaughter. He wasn’t even disguising it.

  Talin raised his hand. “There may be some suitable men trained to fight, my Prince—”

  “All are expected to contribute, Lord Talin. We cannot be seen to show favoritism, can we?” The Prince’s gaze moved between Talin and Salasar. They’d both revealed their blood fire to the King at the Solend. “Fire Walkers who refuse the needs of their kingdom and the orders of their King are traitors. What use do they offer us?”

  Mina snorted. “Do you expect children and blind old men to fight your wars?”

  Prince Ravel met her hard stare. “If they’re Fire Walkers, yes. Children and blind old men can still tend the campfires and burn the dead. Even women have their uses.”

  She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You want women and children to march to the front lines? And to kill those who refuse?”

  Prince Ravel leaned back in his chair. “Don’t look so shocked, High Priestess. It was your Fire Walkers who attacked the Hartnord king—who started this war. And you are, by your own admission, responsible for them—”

  “You can’t send children to war!”

  “Any young Sandarian would be proud to serve their kingdom. I expected you to handle this matter with more grace. Are we agreed, Lord Talin?”

  There was no way Talin could allow this, especially not when Arlent—their people—would be dragged from their homes and marched to the border to die. Women and children, too. And she’d have no choice but to enforce it. She’d be expected to kill those who refused.

  Gods. No. She couldn’t.

  Talin didn’t even look at her as he spoke. “It will be done, my Prince.”

  No.

  How could he say that? What had happened to her father?

  “Make your arrangements soon, Lord Talin. We have only ten weeks until Lune’s Shadow. We must be ready to march within five. That includes you too, High Priestess.”

  Five weeks. They’d be marching to their deaths in only five weeks.

  It wasn’t enough time!

  Mina sat in a daze as the rest of the Council meeting progressed. She didn’t even hear it come to an end or notice when the Housemen began to clear out.

  A hand touched her shoulder. Talin. “Come. We’ll talk.”

  “Why did you—”

  “Not here.”

  He dragged her up and she dutifully followed him out of the Council chamber and through the halls. It was frantic here as men carried crates full of weapons, food, and gods-knew what else. Talin led her out into the main Keep, but instead of turning to the palace and the gardens, he headed for the Keep’s gates and the city.

  “Don’t you need to return to the King?” she asked.

  “He’s sleeping.” Talin tapped his chest. “He sleeps much these days. Gareth is watching over him.”

  “Is this why he hasn’t released you as his sorran?”

  “He’s recovering, though slowly. You’ve read the Code of Honor. So long as I remain his Right Arm, I can lead the Council.”

  “Prince Ravel seems to be leading it.”

  “Oh yes, he’s trying. But I’m keeping him in check.”

  “You’re doing a great job.”

  Talin bristled, but said nothing. They stepped past the Keep wall, and he nodded a greeting to the guards. She’d never entered the city with him before, only Iman and Jonan. Talin rarely had the time, and what little time they had together was spent training.

  As they strode down the hill, she expected Talin to head toward the Temple of Rahn, but he veered behind it, alongside the canal leading to the docks.

  The blood bond warmed as they came across Iman standing in the shade and chewing on a kebob. “You took your time.”

  Above her, Jonan stuck his head out of a crevice in the stone—the same one she’d escaped from to confront Prince Ravel at the tournament. He jumped down and bent his knees on the landing.

  “What’s going on?” Mina asked.

  “A House meeting,” Iman said. “We’r
e missing Fez, but we’ll have to make do.”

  “Actually…” Jonan jerked his thumb at the crevice. Fez lingered by the stone hole and screeched. Then he scuttled back inside, deciding the height wasn’t worth it. “He followed me.”

  Mina glanced down the culvert. It was quiet, but still out in the public. “You want to have a meeting here?”

  “It’s safe enough,” Iman said. “Fewer ears than the Keep. Well?”

  Talin leaned against the wall. “We just came from a Council meeting. It should be of no surprise what’s happening. Fire Walkers will be called to war. All of them. And our Prince will target Arlent.”

  “And you agreed to it!” Mina snapped.

  “In a Council meeting in front of the other Houses? Of course I did. Or do you want to give them an excuse to sack our House now?”

  Any anger in her veins instantly cooled. “What are you planning?”

  “Iman, you’ll return to Arlent under the guise of mobilizing our people. But you will do no such thing. There are vast caverns underneath Arlent, large enough to hide the entire populace, and they’re kept stocked with a week’s supplies in case of another raid. That won’t be enough now. I want you to prepare to shelter everyone for an entire season, or longer if possible.”

  Iman tossed her kebob stick aside. “It’ll be done.”

  “I’ve also contacted the Sanstriders. They’ll be arriving at Arlent roughly the same time you are.”

  “Your tribe?” Mina asked.

  “Our tribe. They’ve been our eyes and ears in the Sandsea for many years now, and most wish to settle down in Arlent. They’ll fight to defend her should the worst happen.”

  “You trust them?”

  “With my life. Their djharn is my half-brother. Your uncle. He’s a good man and will keep his vows.”

  Her uncle? She’d forgotten she had a whole family on Talin’s side. She was half Lunei, but also half Sandstrider. She’d never met them. Maybe soon she’d get the chance. “And the other cities? What about the Fire Walkers there? The Prince is going to force them all to war.”