by Trudie Skies
A half-naked Duslander was chained to the ground. Dahn. She kneeled beside him and began work on his chains. “You caused them trouble I see.”
Dahn snapped his eyes to her. “Priestess. They poisoned us; we couldn’t fight back—”
“Didn’t I tell you not to accept food or drink?”
“Another Fire Walker offered us water. A Duslander. I thought he’d be safe.”
She finished burning through Dahn’s chains and helped him up. “Go outside and find weapons. Quietly.”
From the other cells, she set free Bahri, Qareem, Amin, and Marek. By the time they were reunited, Dahn and Garr had recovered a collection of Hartnord knives and hammers and armed themselves. She took a short knife, but mourned Hawk. The Hartnords had taken her precious sword, which meant it might be on board somewhere.
There are more Fire Walkers at the other end of the ship, Emir’s Shadow blew into her ear. Save them.
Footsteps hammered the wooden planks above them, along with muffled shouts.
She turned to her guard and pulled the bottle of Rahn’s Breath from her sahn. “There are more of us back that way. Drink this—it’ll restore your blood fire, and go find them. Dahn, Garr, and I will stay here and fight off the Hartnords.”
Qareem took the bottle. “Will you be safe, Priestess?”
Dahn rolled his shoulders. “Question is, will these stone-faced bastards be safe?”
“What’s our plan?” Amin asked. He had an arm wrapped around his husband.
“We’re taking over this ship,” she said. “Bahri, you were a fisherman. Can you steer it?”
“Well, ah, this is a lot bigger than my old boat.” Bahri scratched the back of his head. “But between the seven of us, we’ll manage.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “Good. Get going.”
“Lune’s luck,” Bahri said, and rushed ahead with the others.
She signaled for Dahn and Garr to take position underneath a wooden stairway that led to the upper level of the hold. They had to wait but moments before Hartnord feet trampled down the steps—and were met with a gust of wind. They shouted in alarm as their feet were whipped out from under them.
“Now!” she yelled.
Dahn and Garr sprang forward. The Hartnords had no time to regain their footing before Garr stabbed one in the neck and Dahn made quick work of the rest with his warhammer. He was a monster made of muscle that reminded her of the late Barahn Khalbond, and he took great joy in bludgeoning his unfortunate prey.
Five Hartnords down. But there were many more waiting.
Mina took point and stepped over the bodies to the upper level. Here, round glass windows allowed Rahnlight in. They couldn’t have traveled far from Solus yet. A tug in her blood tried to pull her back to the Hartnord bodies, but she couldn’t worry about Shadows now. She’d send them to the afterlife once it was safe.
Emir whispered directions, words that only she could hear. Garr and Dahn followed her without question. They passed wooden tables nailed to the floor. Dirty mugs and paper cards lay abandoned across the tables. Someone had left in a hurry.
They’re waiting in ambush, Emir said. I’ll blow away their weapons.
It felt perverse to rely on Emir’s otherworldly power to fight the enemy—like something an Ash Maker would do. But she couldn’t afford not to exploit this advantage. Prince Wulfhart and Hiram had used them both.
She’d make them regret it.
As they approached the steps to the deck of the ship, Emir’s Shadow ruptured through the hold’s roof and deck floor, scattering wood and splinters. Mina charged up the steps while the Hartnords above were scattered and bewildered.
As Emir had warned, a group of Hartnords had been lying in wait, but now their weapons had been ripped from their hands and were swirling in the air. Dahn, ever eager for blood, pushed past her and smashed the nearest Hartnord with his hammer.
Garr stared at her. “How are you doing this?”
“I’m not.” She raised her dagger. Guilt surged within her—these men were now unarmed, and most were sprawled on the ground. But this was battle, not a duel.
A Hartnord swung a fist at her.
Mina plunged her dagger into his neck.
Garr followed her lead, and soon six more Hartnords were dead.
The surviving Hartnord sailors fled as a fully armored giant approached. He held a Sandarian scimitar in his gauntleted hand—Hawk.
“Cease your attack!” the giant bellowed.
“Give me back my gods-damn sword and I’ll consider it.”
The silver giant charged.
Mina skipped to one side and let him slice the air with Hawk. He swung at her with frustrated chops that didn’t make use of her sword’s reach; clearly he’d never trained with a Sandarian curved blade. She danced and weaved past each slice without making any counters of her own. His thick silver armor slowed him down.
Her inner embers surged with her heartbeat, then she hurled blasts of fire at his armor. She wasn’t skilled enough at fighting with fire to melt it through, but soon the man was clawing at his scalding hot armor to wrench it off his body. He dropped Hawk to use both hands to save himself from cooking alive.
Mina took up her sword.
Shouts came from behind her. She turned to see her Fire Walker guard racing onto the deck with more of her people behind them. They threw flame at every Hartnord they saw, soldier and sailor alike.
The Hartnords didn’t stand a chance.
Fire tore through their clothes, skin, and bone. They screamed inhuman sounds and writhed as they disintegrated into glowing ash.
Some dove from the ship into the turbulent water. Others flung themselves to their knees and begged for mercy.
Flame took them all.
Only the silver giant, half-stripped of his armor, remained. He’d tossed aside his helmet, revealing a gray-haired man flushed with sweat. “The Keepers see what demons you are!”
Her Fire Walkers surrounded him, each glowing with the power of every child’s nightmare.
She raised her hand. “Stop.”
They paused and turned to her. Even Emir’s winds calmed. She was the High Priestess. Her word was their law.
“Kill him,” Dahn urged. “Burn him like the monsters he thinks we are.”
She stared into the Hartnord’s defiant face, then her gaze moved among her Fire Walkers. All were hungry for revenge. Hadn’t they earned it? She could taste the ashes of the Hartnord men in the air. It made her want to scream and vomit.
Her gaze settled on Garr. His eyes were wide, and she read one word there. Enough.
Talin wouldn’t kill an unarmed prisoner.
“We need him alive. Prince Wulfhart still has Jonan and more on the other ship. We need information on where they’re going and how to rescue our people.”
“You’re not taking me.” The giant pulled a knife from his belt and lunged.
Fire burst from her palm and she swung it at the Hartnord by instinct.
Red and orange flame engulfed his outstretched arm, his chest, his face. His shrieks made her blood cold. Her fire snapped out, and she lowered her shaking hand.
His charred body fell to the smoldering wooden deck. His skin peeled away into flakes on the sea breeze, and his remaining armor fused into his blistered, pulpy flesh.
Mina recoiled. She’d done that in a single heartbeat.
Dahn slapped her on the back. “Good work!”
Her Fire Walker guards gathered around the body. Bahri absorbed the flames still licking the deck before they could spread and do real damage. Amin and Marek embraced each other as Qareem laughed with joy. She watched them, too numb for words.
How could they burn through flesh and carry on like it was nothing?
How could they take pleasure in it?
She stared at her tainted hands. They’d burned a man alive.
Her own life’s blood had stolen another’s.
A breeze blew against her neck. You have a problem, Emir said. The Shadows below deck are growing restless.
Gods, the bodies! “But they’re Hartnord ghosts,” she muttered. “They can’t form wraiths, can they?”
I cannot say. In the presence of Lunei blood and an Ash Maker’s Shadow, who knows what strength they may gather? You and I have a dangerous power over the dead.
She grabbed Hawk and ran for the hatch leading below.
Garr jogged beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“The bodies, I have to burn—”
A deafening crash sounded below deck and the ship lurched to one side.
Bahri ran to the ship’s railing. “There’s a breach! We’re going down! Get to the lifeboats!”
The Fire Walkers scrambled to obey his orders, but Mina ran down the stairs into the hold. The lurching ship made it hard to stay upright; mugs, bowls, and other debris skittered across the floor from side to side. She climbed over fallen chairs and scrambled for the lower deck.
Water lapped the stairs.
It’s too late for me, Emir said. Let me go.
“I’m not letting you get stuck on the ocean floor for eternity!”
It’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s what I deserve.
The water frothed as Shadows tried to reach her. The ship lurched again, and she fell forward.
Garr grabbed her arm and dragged her back. “Don’t drown for the dead!”
“What are you doing here?” she shouted. “Get to the life—”
A funnel of water burst through the wood under Mina’s feet. She screamed as the ship tilted sharply and threw her into the churning depths.
The ocean began to spin around her—a whirlpool that sucked her down, down and away from air and light. She held her breath and tried to grab at the walls or floor of the ship, but the waters were dark in the windowless lower hold and she couldn’t see a thing. Her fingers met with nothing as she thrashed about. The more she struggled, the farther she sank.
Her lungs began to burn. No, no, no, she wasn’t going to drown!
The whirlpool lessened and then dissolved as the Hartnord bodies sank, pulling their Shadows and Emir’s with them. Rahnlight shimmered above through the waves—she too had been pulled free of the ship. She kicked upward, frantically, hopelessly. She didn’t know how to coordinate her limbs. Hawk was still strapped to her belt and dragged her down into the dark.
She screamed and water rushed down her throat.
Something grabbed her tunic and hauled her up. She crashed out of the waves and gasped for air, spluttering the water that had filled her lungs.
Garr wrapped his arms under hers and hoisted her head above water. “Hold onto me and don’t panic!”
She floundered in the water, kicking him with her flailing legs. “I can’t swim, I can’t—”
“Stop fighting me!”
She wrapped her arms around his torso and trembled against his chest. “Don’t let me go. Gods, don’t let me go.”
“Never, Sword Dancer.”
Behind her back, Garr clung to a floating piece of wood. They were surrounded by bobbing planks, tables, and crates. Twenty yards away, the prow of the ship was thrust up into the air and the stern was completely submerged. Lifeboats floated among the debris, and she offered a silent prayer to Lune that all of her Fire Walkers were aboard.
In the distance, Prince Wulfhart’s ship rode the waves. It hadn’t circled around to investigate or try to rescue any survivors. It sailed on for Hartnor, abandoning his men to their fate.
They’d never reach Jonan.
She leaned into Garr’s damp chest and choked back tears. “They’ve got him. He’s my brother by bond, my family, and they’ve got him.”
Garr squeezed her tight. “We’ll get him back. I swear to you, Tamina, we’ll get him back.”
She read the truth in his amber eyes and knew he meant it.
“Hoy hoy, do you need a hand?” called Bahri. He steered his lifeboat into their floating plank.
Bahri lifted her up first. She climbed into the raft and collapsed onto a seat. Garr followed and slumped beside her. The taste of saltwater filled her mouth like Lune’s Tears. It made her tremble all over until Garr wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. His warmth pressed through his own wet clothes and, somehow, it settled the rolling nausea inside.
“Where to, Captain?” Bahri asked.
Prince Wulfhart’s ship disappeared over the horizon. There was nothing she could do for Jonan now, but she knew where the Prince was taking him.
The heart of Hartnor.
By all the gods, she swore she’d get him back.
For now, she turned the opposite direction. The city of Solus rose from the water in the far distance, a splotch of green and brown no bigger than her thumbnail. Talin’s essence reeled her in like a fishing rod.
“Solus. Take us home.”
50
LIES
Salasar’s soldiers marched Mina and her Fire Walker guard to the Temple of Rahn, with Salasar and Cyrus leading the way. She wasn’t sure if this was for their safety or arrest. Talin and Iman marched beside her, though neither dared speak in present company. They flooded the House bond with a cacophony of emotion—mostly relief for her escape and fear for Jonan’s life.
Still, the House bond felt empty. The righteous light of Jonan’s fire was missing—silenced by Lune’s Tears.
The inside of the temple was a blackened mess of ash and glass. Samira waited for them, with Kamran at her side—Fez in his arms—and a handful of male Fire Walkers.
“They’re gone,” she said. “We are all that remain.”
Mina understood her carefully chosen words. The Fire Walkers who had not been captured and carried away by Prince Wulfhart had escaped through the Temple of Lune and out the gates of Solus as planned. Salasar and the Council believed them dead.
How many? Mina wondered.
But this wasn’t the time to ask.
Salasar studied the state of the sanctum with wide-eyed amazement. “Rahn’s blood,” he exclaimed.
Mina turned her gaze away and sagged against a stone step. Her exhaustion wasn’t just for show. Her clothes were still damp and the lingering taste of Lune’s Tears, Rahn’s Breath, and the salt-water of the Lapis left her drained.
Marching footsteps sounded from the inner corridor and Lady Kasara appeared in the sanctum doorway.
Salasar’s nostrils flared. “What are you doing here?”
Kasara glared up at her father. “The temple was on fire. The Water Bearers’ duty is to help—”
“You are not a Water Bearer. You’ll return to the Keep immediately—”
“My lord.” Cyrus cleared his throat. “Lady Kasara is a witness to—”
“My daughter is no witness!” Salasar roared. He turned his glare on Talin. “Why is it that whenever something burns in Solus, your House is involved?”
Talin met Salasar’s glare with a warrior’s calm, but through the bond she felt his anger rise. “One of my House was attacked and taken. Don’t forget.”
“A gods-damn Rhaesbond. And the reason we’re in this cursed mess—”
“Don’t you insult Lord Jonan,” Samira snarled. “He sacrificed his blood to stop these fires. If not for him, none of us would be alive.”
Mina blinked. She’d never expected Samira of all people to leap to Jonan’s defense.
Salasar scowled. “And just who are you, wench?”
Mina pushed herself to her feet and approached Salasar. “She’s my acolyte and you’ll show her and my people respect. Haven’t we suffered enough?”
He huffed a laugh. “You expect me to believe this farce? A handful of survivors… out of hundreds?”
“They poisoned our water with Rahn’s Breath as I warned you. You ignored my warning.” She summoned all her hatred and disgust into her words. “This is your fault. All of it.”
> Cyrus sneered. “If my lord is to be blamed for anything, it’s for putting command of our kingdom’s greatest assets in your hands, Arlbond. It’s thanks to you these men are dead.”
Her Fire Walker guard edged closer to her in a protective circle and eyed Cyrus.
“If you speak horse dung about our Priestess, I’ll show you what we did to those Hartnords,” Dahn said with undisguised contempt.
“Is that a threat, dog?” Cyrus spat and put a hand on his sword hilt.
Salasar’s men drew their swords. Flame flickered in Dahn’s fist.
“Stand down!” Salasar raised his hand and his men sheathed their swords. “Fire Walkers, I command you to stand down.”
The Fire Walkers didn’t flinch.
She raised her own hand and her Fire Walkers retreated.
Salasar gave her a wry smile. “You’ve trained your Fire Walkers well, Arlbond. Or what’s left of them. If I have to question every one of you, so be it.”
“Save your questions for Lord Hiram. He’s behind—”
Everything.
But Mina held her tongue.
In that moment, it occurred to her what Hiram Myrbond’s guilt entailed—the sacking of his House and the execution of its members. Alistar included.
She couldn’t let Hiram get away with it.
But she couldn’t make herself say the words, either. She couldn’t sentence her dearest friend to death.
“I’ve already questioned Hiram. He’ll return to his House come dawn to speak with the Three-Pointed Star. We’re still awaiting Neu Bosa’s ships, and we need them now more than ever.”
The Three-Pointed Star was the enemy.
But she couldn’t say that, either.
Hiram Myrbond knew about the tunnels, about House Arlbond’s plan to smuggle away the Fire Walkers through the Temple of Lune. If his House fell, he’d take hers with him. All of their secrets were entangled now. The executioner’s axe would fall on them both alike.
“I wouldn’t rely on them.” She tried to mask the bitterness in her voice.
“Trust me, child, I don’t. You’ll meet with the Council and report.”
