Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (36 page)

“Think he’s going to alert someone?” Darius asked.

Faye spoke, “Doesn’t matter. This place is no longer safe. If Ezrah knew to send the Devari here, then it’s safe to assume that whoever captured him could know of it as well. Not to mention, no one stays long in Shadow’s Corner and lives.” Faye plucked daggers from nearby corpses, sheathing them in her leather belt as she moved towards the door, opening it. Outside, despite the dark alley, dawning light peered down. “Well, are you coming?” she called impatiently.

Gray sheathed Morrowil, Victasys and Zane following suit.

Ayva shook her head, baffled. “Are you all crazy?”

Darius shrugged, giving his best look of innocence. “C’mon, Ayva. We can’t stay here any longer, and I don’t particularly want to,” he said, looking around at the chaos. Nearby, the big man Darius had hit upon the head groaned, trying to rise. When Darius looked back, the others were already out the door. Grabbing Ayva’s arm and ignoring her protests, Darius rose. He tossed a few coppers upon the bar’s counter, nodding to the old innkeeper who trembled, looking confused and afraid behind the bar. “Thanks,” he called.

As he moved to the door, the big brute saw Darius. The man snatched his broken sword and growled, rising. He swung. Darius barely sidestepped. He brought up his dagger and hit the man square in the head with his pommel, knocking him back out. Ayva looked at him, impressed and shocked. “Still want to stay?” he asked.

She growled in reply.

Darius grinned, and with Ayva at his side, he left Maris’ Luck, moving into the waiting dawn, following Faye and the others.

A Joint Decision

F
AYE HAD LED THEM TO A
small room that felt far more cramped after the large inn.
But at least with far less dead bodies
, Gray admitted darkly. It was quite a ways from the Shadow’s Corner in a surprisingly nice district of Farbs, with clean streets, and tall, grand buildings. Citizens of this district wore silks or other finery, and a good bit of jewelry too. As they’d approached, he’d glimpsed the dark spires of a keep rising over the buildings.

The Citadel.

They were close, he knew, and Gray felt its pull, even now, through the thick walls around them. He could still hear Ezrah’s bloody cries like a faint echo in his mind. Somehow, even in waking, the dream seemed to persist. His jaw clenched. Time was running out.

Taking in the room, he didn’t know what to expect—it was Faye after all.

The walls were clay and thick, likely to obscure prying ears. The only window was small, covered with iron bars, and set on a back wall. On the left side of the room was a cluttered table, and beyond that a small bed. On the opposite wall was a row of hooks holding an arsenal of weapons: wooden clubs—some with metal studs or thick nails—flanged maces, swords of all shapes and sizes, even a few polearms on a rack, and finally, several chains, each attached to a heavy iron ball with wicked, curved spikes like metal thorns.
A Senduku,
Kirin said,
a type of Farbian flail.
Gray nodded then shook his head, shutting the voice out. Kirin had been silent since leaving Shadow’s Corner, and he rather preferred it that way for now.

All in all, Faye’s place was more like a quaint prison combined with a cozy armory than an actual home.

Darius grabbed something round, smooth, and white from the table. Gray realized it was a skull. The rogue’s hand froze in realization, and he let the skull clatter to the floor. Ayva stood near the weapon-rack by the door. Her hand fingered a pair of iron manacles with a thick chain.

Faye quickly stalked to the window, glancing out.

“This is where you live?” Gray whispered.

Nearby, Darius brushed dust off a chair and plopped down, kicking his heels up onto the slender table that held stacks of books, writing paper, and other strange instruments.

Faye casually knocked his feet off. “I once called it home, but no longer.”

Gray realized the truth of her words. Dust hung over everything—a thin coat that testified to her absence. Then he realized the oddity he’d felt: books lay open, blankets on the nearby bed were still tousled, and even food, or what had
once
been food, sat on a plate, molded and emitting a foul stink.

He neared the plate. “Seems you left in a hurry.”

Dead flies dappled the crusted platter.

Faye looked to him calmly. “A clever deduction.”

“Running from something?” Ayva questioned. She still stood near the door, as if expecting to run at any moment. She clutched her arm, looking about the place with dubious eyes. Gray shivered as she and Faye exchanged looks that could boil water.

Faye merely smiled. “Please, sit,” she said to Victasys and Zane, motioning to two chairs beside the door, pointedly ignoring Ayva.

Victasys took a seat.

“I’d rather stand,” Zane said.

Ayva took his seat with a smile.

Faye shrugged.

“Ugh, that stinks,” Darius said, holding his nose. “Mind throwing that out?”

Faye grabbed the moldy plate and dumped it on the ground. “Better?”

Darius grumbled.

“Is there a point to this place?” the fiery man asked abruptly. “Why are we here?”

Silently, Faye grabbed a sword off the wall and tossed it to Zane. He caught it in one hand, casually. Faye smirked. “I thought this a fitting place to prepare for what’s to come. Besides, no one knows of it. As of this moment, it’s the safest place in all of Farhaven.”

Zane admired the blade, as did Gray. It was long and curved, and the steel shone brightly, lit by streamers from the window. It was no Morrowil, Gray thought, but it was still finer than any weapon he’d ever seen otherwise, well, aside from Darius’ blade now, and perhaps the Devari’s odd sword. “A fine weapon,” Zane admitted. “But I don’t need it, and coming here was a waste of time. I’ve no time for this.” He moved to the door.

Gray stepped forward. “You can’t save her by yourself, Zane,” he said, holding the man’s copper gaze. It was hard—like staring into the sun.

“I do owe your grandfather a debt I promised to repay… But Hannah… Who will go to save my sister? I
will
not abandon her,” he fumed, but then hesitated. “But if what you said before is true, none of us can enter The Lair of the Beast.”

Silence reigned. A fly buzzed and Darius swatted at it.

“I’ll go,” Faye proclaimed.

“Why would you help?” Ayva asked in disbelief.

“Because I can,” she said sharply, “
and
because I owe Gray my life. If he wishes for Zane to aid him, then I must do this.”

Gray remembered those dark fearsome beasts.
Darkwalkers.
The memory of their escape came back to him, and he could almost hear the rush of wind, just as he had when they had barely escaped. The broken nexus pulsed in his mind, as if mocking him, and he pushed it aside.

That incident seemed like ages ago now, but he knew it couldn’t have been more than a week past. Still, he felt like a different person compared to the Gray that had first entered Farhaven.

“You saved my life as well,” Gray admitted. “All our lives.”

Faye pulled up a chair, sat on it, and leaned back, propping her foot up on the table. Darius grimaced as if jealous. “If you call nearly dying to that cursed Algasi saving your life, then you have an interesting perspective. No, I failed and you saved me, even if you abandoned me after. Still, I always repay a debt.”

“As do I,” Zane said, eyeing the Devari.

“There is no debt to repay,” the man said, his tone almost scolding. “Like I said, I did not do it for you.”

Ayva stood up in frustration. “Why is no one addressing the main issue here? How exactly
are
you supposed to help, Faye? Unless you bear Darkeye’s Mark, you’ll die inside that dark pit just the same as any one of us.”

Faye dropped her foot from the table and sat up straight, pulling her shirt down and exposing her upper shoulder.

Gray tensed.

A white scar shone in the shape of an eye—Darkeye’s Mark. The eye was more ornate and a sword pierced its center, molded from scar tissue. It was striking in contrast to Faye’s tan skin, though obviously it had faded with time. How had he not seen that before? Then he realized it was on the other shoulder not the one where she had been wounded by the Algasi’s spear.

Zane growled, lifting his sword to Faye’s throat. “That’s the mark of a Darkeye officer… How did you come by that?”

Faye looked unperturbed by the blade, eyeing it as if it were a child’s stick. “Are you going to kill me with my own sword after I offered to save your sister?”

But Zane’s fury didn’t falter. His eyes were burning cauldrons.

Guiltily, Gray reached out, using the ki
.
As his senses touched Zane’s body, he nearly collapsed. He sucked in a sharp breath.
Sorrow.
The pain of it took his breath away, swirling inside him so heavy his knees threatened to buckle. It was an agony that made his eyes well with tears. He felt death everywhere and saw the bodies of those he cared for at his feet, while blood stained his hands. But washing over all of that was pure anger. He wanted to cry out until his lungs exploded, or to attack, shattering anything nearby and breaking it to a thousand pieces. It was too much to handle. He fled Zane’s body, returning to his own, and breathed heavily.

Ayva was watching him curiously, but he avoided her gaze and looked at Zane. The copper-eyed man stood straight, every part of him trembling with restrained fury. He saw him differently now, feeling if not knowing Zane’s anger. What had he lost? He was so different from Gray, and yet that anger was somehow so familiar… Gray shook his head, wishing to understand him more, but he feared entering Zane’s body again.
How can the man bear it, let alone keep his face so stoic?

Zane spoke in a grave tone, “Darkeye has killed my friends and family, rooted us out like rats at every turn, and now he’s destroyed my only home and all those I love. And you, you stand for every dark deed he’s ever done.”

“If you want to kill me, then do it. Light knows I deserve it,” Faye said calmly.

“This isn’t right,” Ayva voiced. “Don’t do it, Zane. Spirits know I don’t care for her much either, but this isn’t right.”

Zane ignored her. His face was a mask of fury. Gray feared what he’d do if he tried to interrupt. “Answer me,” Zane said. “As his minion, the blood of innocents stains your hands… How many have you killed?”

“Hundreds,” Faye said hollowly.

Zane growled, charging forward, pressing the sword tighter to Faye’s throat.

“Drop the sword, boy,” Victasys said. He was standing now, blazing sword unsheathed. Darius had jumped up from his seat, but Gray merely held his hand over Morrowil, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. He felt something in Ayva, a tension, as she held on to the edge of the table.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t cut you down right here,” Zane said, and Gray knew the threat was not idle. Not after what he’d felt.

“Hannah.”
Faye’s single word cut through the air like a dagger. The sword at her throat wavered but didn’t drop.
“If you want me to save your sister, I can do it. They trust me,” she explained. “As for my past, it is simply that. My past. It was a dark part of my life that I’ve tried harder than you can imagine to put behind me and atone for. I know I will have to answer for it one day, but if you want me to save Hannah, then I would recommend putting down that sword.”

At last, Zane dropped the sword. Victasys sheathed his blade as well, flames snuffing. Faye leaned back in her seat again, undisturbed by the fact that she had come so close to her death.

Ayva released a pent up breath.

Darius cursed and sat back down. “Well, at least that’s behind us. Now if we don’t have one person trying to slit another person’s throat for more than ten seconds, I think we’ll call that a victory.”

“Wait, why did you leave?” Ayva questioned. “Don’t tell me that you grew a conscience.”

Faye replied, “I grew a reason to live.”

Gray felt the words in the air. They felt truthful.

“And what’s that?” Ayva questioned dubiously.

Faye’s eyes darkened ominously. “I don’t have to tell you,” she answered, heat finally entering her voice.

“You do if you want us to believe you,” Ayva retorted.

“She’s right,” Gray said. “What reason do we have to believe that you’re not still one of them?”

She laughed. “Beside the fact that I’ve saved all your lives a dozen times over and just killed a good portion of Darkeye’s recruits in that inn alone? Not a single reason. Sadly, one cannot ever leave Darkeye’s clan. Once you join, you are in it for life. That is why I fled, and why you found me in the desert. While I’ll never serve Darkeye again, I can never truly be free of him.”

“It’s true,” Zane said.