Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (18 page)

* * *

The sun was a ripe blood red, hanging just above the horizon in the west when they at last stopped to make camp at a large Node just before the rolling, endless dunes.

Gray wanted to put as much distance as possible between him and the Algasi. Faye had said that many of them could run for miles on end without tiring. That had put him and the others on edge.

Nearing the Node, he slowed.

This sanctuary was not like the others, more dirt and sand, and less greenery. The majority of trees were smooth poles with huge green fronds. They drooped as if drowsy, glad for dusk and a respite from the relentless sun. Gray could understand that sentiment. At the center was another large pond, but it looked shallow. He doubted at its deepest it would reach his waist. There were no animals, save for the buzz of some nearby beetles. Yet bits of gold—magic, he knew—hung in the air above the water, which reflected the full moon above.

He dismounted and patted his cormac, thanking the beast for working so hard. Even the cormacs, seemingly tireless beasts, had begun to slack. Their fine-coats had worked up a slight lather.
Let the Algasi chase us here,
he thought, then rescinded his words immediately.
Spirits send they don’t.
He knew they couldn’t face those warriors again. Not without an army at their back.

Faye swung smoothly from Darius’ mount and strode to the nearby pool.

“Faye,” Gray said. She said nothing, washing her hands at the water. “I’m sorry.”

“
’Just as the bright sun sets and darkness falls, so too must all things fade with the sands of time,’”
she whispered, and he realized she was quoting something.

A silence settled over the four, Ayva and Darius looking to him.

“Yarish was a good steed, but it’s fine,” she said, her back turned. “As long as you keep your promise.” Her voice was calm and indifferent. But as she knelt at the water’s edge, dipping her hands in and washing the dirt of travel from her tan face, he sensed her hurt. Not the ki, but
si’tu’ah
. It was evident.

“What does that mean?” Ayva asked, “What promise?”

Gray shook his head. “Nothing.”

Darius made a loud, exaggerated cough. “Sorry to interrupt, but does anyone want to tell me what in the seven hells of remwar happened back there? What were those things exactly?” He leapt from his cormac and tied it to a nearby tree.

“Algasi,” Ayva said. “Sand warriors. Stories say they are a nomadic tribe that roams the lands near the Rehlias Desert. According to many tales, they were once citizens of the great kingdom of Vaster. After the war, it was said they banished themselves for the guilt was too great.”

“What guilt?” Gray asked.

“The guilt that they started the war. It was Omni’s sword that was stolen. The sun blade was never recovered and many believe it was the catalyst for the Lieon. The Algasi felt the blame for the countless victims of the great war.”

“That must be when Omni and the Ronin took the blame for the war,” Gray said in realization.

Ayva bobbed her head. “Precisely, for they were the only ones who could hold the blade.”

Gray shook his head, amazed. “How do you know all this?”

She smiled, looking pleased. “I was always fascinated by the Algasi, and Faye filled me in on the rest.

Faye said nothing.

Gray looked at her, pondering. The woman had tried to sacrifice herself for them… Hadn’t she? Or was that just another ploy? Gray had figured Faye was the type to always have an out. She was a survivor. Then what was that back there? Had she truly attempted to give her life for them?

“No offense,” Darius said, raising his hands, “but I didn’t ask for a history lesson, Ayva. I just want to know what happened. The last thing I remember was riding along, laughing, and then, whack! Lights out! Where in the world
did they come from?”

Ayva grumbled. “Just because you say no offense, doesn’t mean it’s
not
offensive, Darius. Idiot.”

Darius, taking off his cormac’s saddle and brushing the creature down, merely shrugged. He seemed to pay a lot of attention and care to the beast. But Gray could understand, for they weren’t like normal creatures. Sometimes, he almost felt as if they understood him when he talked.

“They were hiding in the sand,” Gray explained.

“
In
the sand?” the rogue exclaimed, “That figures. This whole land is a dicing deathtrap. But how is it that I’m always the one who gets knocked out? Remember Lakewood? Same dicing thing!”

Gray hid a smirk. It was true. “But this time was different. What you did, Darius—” he shook his head, remembering the army of roots that, like a hundred fingers of earth, had sprouted from the land “—it was truly magnificent. You saved us.”

Darius looked embarrassed. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I did a little, sure, but it wasn’t me that saved us. It was her.” He nodded to Faye.

Suddenly, Faye rose, let out a small groan and staggered, falling.

Gray darted, grabbing her as she collapsed. She was limp in his arms. He cursed, furious at himself—how could he have forgotten? She had pushed him out of the way and taken the spear that was meant to take his life. He lifted a hand. It was drenched in blood.
Without thinking, he pulled back her layered leather and mail armor. He saw the wound. It was on her shoulder, but cloth covered it. He set her to the ground and pulled her shirt down, exposing her shoulder and her chest.

“What are you doing?” Ayva exclaimed, aghast.

He spoke heatedly. “I need to clean and bind her wound, and quick. Her clothing is in the way. If I don’t, she will surely die.” He looked up. Ayva’s face was pained, conflicted. “We can’t let her die, Ayva. She sacrificed herself for us. This is partly your fault, and mine as well. It’s all our fault.”

Ayva looked ready to retort when Faye coughed. “Water…” she moaned.

Surprisingly, Darius was at her side, a skin of water in his hand, putting it to her dry lips.

Cursing, Ayva grabbed her dagger and leapt upon her cormac’s back. “I’ll look for some Silveroot then. Don’t let her die before I get back,” she said,
as if an order,
and then dug her heels into the animal’s flanks, heading deeper into the Node.

“Can we trust her?” Darius asked. Again Faye moaned, head lolling to one side.
She’s unconscious,
Kirin whispered to him.
She’s lost too much blood…

Don’t tell me that. Help me or stay quiet.

“Gray?” Darius asked.

He looked up. He must have said it out loud again. Ripping bits of red and gray cloth from Faye’s clothes, Gray dipped them in the nearby water and quickly cleared away the wound. Much of it had crusted, clogged with dirt and sand. He brushed it aside as carefully as possible, but as he did more blood spouted like a fountain.

At his side, Darius gagged, averting his gaze.

Something isn’t right about this…
Kirin voiced.
She should be worse. Not even a Devari would stay upright with a wound like that. She’s lost a lot of blood, but less than she should have.

What do you mean? Speak quickly!

I think something is still stuck in her, slowing the flow of blood. A piece of the spear perhaps…

And?

It may be the only thing that has saved her thus far, but if it gets into her bloodstream…

What?
he pressed.

She’ll die.

Tell me what to do,
he ordered.

Kirin hesitated.

Now,
Gray insisted, growling inwardly. He didn’t know what he could do if Kirin refused. There was no threat he could give to the voice, aside from trying to shut it out or banishing it once and for all when he got to Farbs. But at last, his old self spoke.

You will owe me.

Gray nodded without hesitation, accepting that bargain. As he did, a shiver traced his spine. Somehow it felt more binding than the blood pact with Faye. And then Kirin began to instruct him in a calm, authoritative tone, and he set about cleaning, sanitizing, finding a tool to extract the shard of spear… Distantly, he heard himself order Darius to make a fire. He was amazed at how much his Devari side knew. He almost felt as if he could touch that pool of knowledge, as if he didn’t need Kirin. He tried to pull it out himself, to break down that barrier, but it was like trying to grip the reins of another’s horse. Too far to reach. For now, he knew, the key to that door was held by Kirin.

It still may not be enough,
Kirin voiced, as Gray worked feverishly.

It has to be…

“Gray,” Darius interrupted, “can we trust Ayva to find the Silveroot?”

“Go with her,” Gray said absently, if only to have him out of his way. He needed to concentrate. He looked to Faye’s shoulder. With a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, he lifted a makeshift pair of pincers—really just two metal sticks that Mistress Hitomi had given them back at the Shining City, which he’d kept as a memento until now.

Heat them first,
Kirin ordered.

Gray didn’t question the voice. It knew more than he did. He stuck the metal sticks into the fire, fingers growing hot.

Darius rose. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked nervously, still keeping his gaze away from Faye’s exposed chest.

“I don’t, but Kirin does.”

“Kirin?” Darius asked.

Gray shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Go help Ayva. Silveroot might be the only thing that can help her now.”

Darius bobbed his shaggy head, leapt swiftly upon his cormac, and took off into the Node, leaving Gray with a silent Faye. Watching the glowing orange metal cool, he looked to the wound.
Are you with me?
he asked inwardly and Kirin concurred. The wound swelled with blood, and Gray began, rooting for the spear’s sliver using Kirin’s voice as a guide. It was chilly out, but sweat broke out on his face in concentration. He continued and felt the land darken around him, the orange fire illuminating his work. Kirin had intended the fire for two purposes, he realized. His heart pounded in his chest as he lifted flaps of flesh, searching, all the while struggling to keep his hands from shaking.

Too much blood,
Kirin said with a note of fear.
I’ve never seen this much…
Gray had never heard emotion in Kirin’s voice. Usually, it was just forward and confident. It terrified him to hear that fear.

Will she live?

But Kirin had no answer.

Secrets

“
A
YVA?”
D
ARIUS CALLED, BUT THERE WAS
no answer.

This Node wasn’t large, so where the dice could she have run off to?

Darius maneuvered his cormac around several large trees with smooth bark and large fronds upon their crest, looking like a jester’s green hat only missing its bells—
dola
trees, Ayva had informed him. Truthfully, the cormac didn’t need much guiding. Wherever he looked, the beast went, almost sensing it before
he
did. He patted Mirkal fondly.

“Good boy,” he said. “Good cormac.”

Suddenly, Darius choked as something lodged in his throat. He went into a fit of coughs, hammering his chest, and at last a tiny golden bug jettisoned out of his mouth. It flew and landed on a dola tree. He watched, dumfounded as the golden beetle melded with the bark, disappearing entirely.

What the…?
Darius shivered. He ignored it, pretending it hadn’t happened. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Too much. He looked at his palm.
My power…
Summoning those roots felt like moving a mountain with my bare hands.
But he had done it. He dipped into his mind, and there the Leaf floated serenely. Waiting.

“Go away,” he whispered, shutting his mind. As the Leaf winked away, he felt a strange sense of loss, as if he were shunning a part of himself, or cutting a finger from his hand.

No,
he thought adamantly as he scoured the trees for some trace of Ayva.
Aside from the cormacs, this land can keep its blasted magic.
Give him a bit of gambling, a pretty barmaid, and perhaps a little bit of adventure. Scratch that, no more adventure. Back in Lakewood, he had pined for the thrill of sword battles and honor duels.
What a fool I was,
he thought. Now he realized adventure was just another word for deathtrap.

His cormac found its way, stepping past rust-colored bushes and a last stand of dola trees. A haunting song hung in the air. It was almost inaudible, but he could hear it. Again, he shivered… It was as if the Node was alive and singing.