Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (76 page)

“When this is done, remind me to thank you properly,” he said mischievously.

Meira sighed, but he could see a hint of amusement in her beautiful, dark eyes. “How you can think of something like that at a time like this is beyond me. But…” she said and looked up into his gaze. “I do look forward to being in your arms.”

He smiled, holding her eyes.

Meira shook her head, as if clearing those thoughts, and looked around at the wounded Reavers and Devari. “This was just a taste, Finn.”

“But a taste of
what
is the real question. Let’s find out,” he declared, moving to meet the others. Meira nodded and they moved forward, towards Ezrah who stood on the top of the white, marble steps. The orange light from the dawn washed over the Arbiter, making Gray’s grandfather look like the legend he was. “For the record,” he added, “I only got in trouble because I was half as good as you at my studies. You and Morgan had the intellectual side covered, I figured we needed a rogue to round out our group.”

“Sounds familiar,” Meira said, looking over her shoulder.

And Finn knew where her gaze settled without looking.

How had Gray ended that fight? Even before seeing his power of wind, he’d known the boy was different.
Now?
He shivered. Gray was more than extraordinary but he did not envy the boy—for he knew that, with a destiny like that, great and terrible things were on the horizon. Finn looked over his shoulder and saw the crimson dawn.
For that matter
, he thought,
great and terrible things are on the horizon for us all.

* * *

Zane winced, squinting from the bright sun.

“Ah, welcome back,” Hannah announced.

“How am I alive?” he asked.

They sat in the yard, commotion rumbled around them, but he paid them no heed, finding Hannah’s soft brown eyes instead, which were watching him warmly. “I healed you again. I think I’m getting stronger. See? No spark fever,” she said, pointing to her face. “Course, some other Reavers tried to shove their noses into the matter, saying I’m just a puny
Untamed
.” She huffed, and then beamed smugly. “You should have seen their looks when I proved them wrong. It wasn’t that hard really.”

He sighed. “Really, Hannah, challenging Reavers?”

She punched his arm, hard. “Look who’s talking! This coming from someone who just tried to take on the leader of the Devari! Besides, I just saved your life, all right? Show me some respect!”

He grunted from the blow and growled, “I’m sorry, all right? It’s just you’re an Untamed and I… I worry about you, that’s all.”

Luckily, he didn’t need to expound anymore as she nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry too. I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” he grumbled and rubbed his sore arm. “You’re getting stronger, you know? That didn’t used to hurt so much.” She smirked, looking glad. “But I suppose that answers whether or not I’m still dreaming.” Though, as Zane looked around, he questioned his last statement. The courtyard teemed with life—thousands filled the grassy grounds. He sat in a pocket amid the commotion. “What is this? Where did all these people come from?”

“The prisoners,” Hannah explained, looking equally staggered by the milling throng. It was an army. “Turns out Sithel had banished all those who had resisted him to the prisons.
Thousands
were down there. Neophytes, Reavers, Devari, and guards—practically the whole Citadel.”

Zane nodded. That explained the absence.

Hannah’s nails slowly clawed at her pant legs, and she shook her head in anger. “Zane, how can a man do such a thing? He caged little boys and girls in those dark cells.” She shivered, and he knew she was speaking from experience. He still felt a dark rage at what Darkeye had done to her, but he kept the rage in the back of his mind lest it consume him.

Darkeye will pay in blood,
he swore. He’d refrained from asking more about her experience, knowing any detail of it would only stoke his ire. Looking around, Zane realized the truth of her words, seeing the children huddled together by a group of Reavers, their small bodies barely filling their gray robes. His anger for Sithel spiked, but between all that, he glimpsed another group. Meira and Finn stood beside Ezrah alongside Reaver Ethelwin, Dagon, and other high and mighty threaders of the spark. Meanwhile, more Reavers tended to Devari who bore bruises and cuts, but nothing more. “Was there a fight?”

Hannah laughed. “You could say that.”

He growled, wishing he had been a part of it. “How did we survive?”

“Gray,” she answered. “He saved us.”

Zane grumbled, frustrated and angry, but glad Gray had shown his true strength. He knew the man was strong—he’d seen it, felt it. But part of him was truly relieved. “Then Jian is dead and Victasys’ is avenged. That is good. I only wish I had been the one to see his face—” Hannah winced, and he halted as she pointed.

A group of Devari parted, revealing Jian.

Wrath shook through Zane.

Hannah gripped his face, turning him to face her. “Zane…” she pleaded, holding his gaze. He tried to push her away, but she held on. “
Please
, don’t. I know that look in your eyes, but please, let it go. He’s on our side. Sithel, he’s the real enemy, remember?”

Grudgingly, Zane took an even breath, letting the pulsing fire inside him subside, somewhat. “So be it,” he admitted at last then rose, picking up his blade from the shriveled grass. He hadn’t realized, but he’d seared away a patch of earth from his presence alone. Luckily, Hannah hadn’t noticed—admitting his power to her was something he wasn’t ready for. “I think it’s time to find Gray. This is far from over.” He extended a hand. “You coming?”

She laughed, grabbing his hand. “And miss out on all the fun so far? Not likely.”

Zane nodded, pulling Hannah to her feet. “Of course, you know I only asked you because I knew you would come anyway.”

“Of course,” she agreed, and together they moved through the crowded yard in search of Gray.

* * *

Ayva walked up the wide, stone rampart, reaching the top of the bailey when she saw him.

Gray stood, looking out over the Citadel’s walls. She couldn’t see his face, but she
felt
his tension. It sat heavy in the air. Beyond the black stone crenulations lay Farbs—a sprawling city of colorful tents and tan buildings—and beyond that, the rolling Rehlias desert.

Darius found her side.

Suddenly Zane appeared from behind them, Hannah in tow. “What’s going on?” the fiery man asked, “What’s with him?”

She shook her head and approached.

Finn and Meira emerged from the adjacent rampart, a dozen paces away. They came with a trailing entourage—she even saw Faye and Ezrah among them, as well as a group of Devari and powerful Reavers in their scarlet robes. They neared, but she ignored them, intent on Gray’s back, his cloak wavering from a slight breeze. With each step, she felt her heart thump. As she neared, she saw that his arm shook. She touched it—his coiled muscles were tense as rock. He twisted slowly, and she repressed a gasp.

His eyes were white.

“Gray?” she breathed, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

The others were at her side.

“They’re coming…” he answered and pointed with Morrowil. “There.”

Ayva looked up and beyond, into the desert and—
what is that?
she wondered, seeing a thin black line on the horizon like a dark forest. And then she realized it was moving, like an undulating wave of gloom, and dread flowed through her. Distantly, she felt the others have similar reactions of terror.

“What is that?” Zane questioned.

“Death,” a voice announced.

Faye’s auburn eyes still glowed from within a bed of smoke. Her plated armor was bloodied from the fighting in the dungeons below the Citadel, but as her gaze held the dark moving mass, for the first time Ayva saw fear in the coldhearted woman. A wave of something washed over Ayva, and she turned to see Ezrah. He stood tall and imposing in his white robes, as if banishing or contrasting the darkness of Faye, the sun to her night. Reavers formed around him, powerful in their own right but looking like children at the Arbiter’s side. All save for Meira and Finn.

“Darkwalkers,” Darius cursed with a shiver, gripping his leaf-blade tighter.

“That and much more,” Faye answered.

“Sithel is out there then,” Meira stated, face gleaming with hatred. Finn held her shoulder. “If Sithel is out there, then so is the voidstone.”

“Don’t forget Darkeye,” Faye said, hand resting upon her crossbow.

“Why is Darkeye at Sithel’s side?” Ayva asked.

“The leader of the Underbelly sees this as a chance to seize an even greater hold of Farbs and the Citadel—whether at Sithel’s side, or in the wake of the chaos, like a scavenger bird picking at the flesh of the dead after it’s all said and done.”

Ayva felt the chill morning air heat, and she saw Zane had unsheathed his blade, the flames along its surface blazing. “Darkeye’s head is mine,” the man declared quietly.

A voice spoke from behind them, calm and powerful. “We must meet them.”

Jian
. Ayva had trouble judging the man.
Whose side is he really on?
Most of her felt hatred towards him for what he had put them through, not to mention for nearly killing Gray, but there was a side she knew he hid—the side that had proven good. He was a mystery. It didn’t help that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Man,
she thought with emphasis, distinguishing him from Darius and Gray who seemed like boys beside him. He was tall and brooding, with dark features, a sharp jaw and startling green eyes—rugged growth on his face only added to his rough nature.

“What did you say?” Faye questioned.

“We must march out as one and meet them upon the desert of Farbs,” Jian said again, calmly, as if he were ordering a fence to be built. “Our army against theirs.”

Faye cackled, drawing all eyes. “Our army? Have you seen
our army?”
she pressed, pointing to the ragged throng in the courtyard below. “Men, women, and
children
all starved half to death from the Citadel’s charming dungeons. I’d be surprised if they can fight to stay awake, let alone wage a war.”

“There are Devari and Reavers among us, many of them,” Jian answered. “By my estimates, we number nearly five-thousand strong—including my Sword-Forged, of which the enemy has none.”

“Devari,” Faye scoffed, but Ayva had seen the admiration she gave Jian who stood like a statue, the perfect warrior.

“…and we have an Arbiter,” Jian asserted.

Ezrah had said nothing until now. The man seemed immortal. The Arbiter gave a deep sigh. “It is a strange thing to admit, but I’m afraid you overestimate my powers, for now. As I stand, my power is far from what it used to be. I will only be of so much use in this fight. Moreover, I fear I am not the only Arbiter to partake in this fight.”

“Arbiter Fera?” Reaver Meira breathed.

“I do not know,” he answered. “There is a darker presence of magic overseeing all this. But I have not seen Arbiter Fera in some time while the Patriarch has been abroad seeking help within Vaster.”

“The Patriarch will save us,” said another Reaver—a tall woman with short-cropped. white hair. “He will be here! We are his children.” And she muttered beneath her breath, barely audible to Ayva’s ears,
“Blessed is his name, as we are sheltered and protected beneath his eternal light.” The Patriarch,
Ayva thought in awe
—
the most powerful Arbiter of all time.

“No,” Reaver Finn interjected, shaking his head. He kept one hand to the hilt of his blade. His hair was spiked in a dark fray from a bandage across his forehead—a strip of red cloth. Reaver Meira stood at his side. Finn continued, “For a week now, we’ve attempted to slip messengers past Sithel to alert the Patriarch, who has been abroad seeking unity with the other Great Kingdoms. Every messenger has been found and killed. I’m afraid Ezrah is right, we must rely on ourselves.”

Fear pounded as Ayva looked at the dark army advancing relentlessly forward.
“
And how exactly do you plan to kill a legion of Darkwalkers?” Faye asked. “For that is what is at their side.”

“Darkwalkers would never follow the rule of mankind,” another Reaver said. “The stories say—”

Faye sniffed contemptuously. “The stories are wrong. The two are lifeless nightmares, Darkwalkers and that pale worm. Darkeye informed me that Sithel, with his voidstone, can command the spark deprived beings. It’s clear he left the Citadel to gather his nightmare army and take this city. So
unless you, Devari Leader, have a way of killing a thousand Darkwalkers, we will be fodder for that horde. Perhaps you have a full tribe of phoxes with a Matriarch at its head?”