Fireborn Champion (18 page)

“Kalila!” Iron’s senses returned, and he raced toward her. She beat against the wall, splitting cracks in the stone. She beat and she beat and she beat. Blood coated her fist where the structure fought her strength, but the woman was a titan unleashed, and not even Iron could stop her.

She reared back with a roar, her fist smashing one last time against the wall. The barrier shattered like brittle glass, and the stone collapsed. Iron sucked in his breath and shielded his arms, ready for the blast of water that would pour into the room.
 

The Sapphire Sea did not rage against him. Instead, dust drifted by in a thick cloud before slowly settling on the floor. Kalila stood before the broken wall, heaving, fist dripping blood.
 

Iron blinked and waved the dust from his eyes. Another room opened up behind the wall, and in it, a tunnel leading upward. Anything that went higher was better than blindly diving deeper into the sea. He doubted any white fish would conveniently come around to deliver them from a wet grave this time around.

Kalila cradled her injured hand. With the other, she pointed to the exposed tunnel. “Ayska.”

For a heartbeat, he stood dumbfounded. He’d never heard the woman speak.

“
Ayska!
” she roared.
 

His eyes widened, and he bolted into the room. “I’m going, I’m going.”

With Kalila at his heels, they crossed the dark room and began their climb up the curling tunnel. Beyond it, he feared what he would find—or who waited for him.

Daylight erupted from a portal of cool air roaring through the bloody twilight sky. Iron glanced behind him. Kalila ran in his shadow, the point of light before them split into glittering shards in her deep eyes.

Iron slowed near the exit, huffing and panting from the long climb. He had no idea how long they’d ascended Spineshell’s deep halls. Each second was an eternity of fear and dreaded anticipation of the destruction waiting on the surface.
 

Waves sighed as they lapped in perfect rhythm against the island—or what remained of it. He turned to Kalila and reached for her wrist. The woman yanked her hand away like barbs dripping poison covered his.

“Right. No touching.” Iron sidled up to the tunnel’s exit. With a deep breath, he pressed himself against the wall. Black smoke scarred the sky and choked the first few stars daring to glimpse the violence beneath them.
 

Iron leaned into the open. Wind flapped against his sweaty brow and kissed his dry lips with a stinging whip of salt. His nose threaded out another scent from the salty wind, an acrid, burning stench of wood and plant that cried out in the tongues of crackling flames. Iron’s pounding heart lurched into his throat.
Gods, no
.
I’m too late.

Some champion he turned out to be. After only a few days, he’d already started failing those he swore to save. The gods should’ve picked someone else. They should’ve picked someone braver, someone smarter.
 

Iron’s heart twisted. Tears oiled his vision with their shameful moisture.
 

A hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed. He twisted back, seeing Kalila’s cut and bloodied knuckles resting on him. The spark in her traveled through the tunnel in her eyes, and for an instant, it connected with him. “Loyal one,” she murmured, squeezing his shoulder and looking to the island.

The spark faded like a shooting star swallowed by the night. Kalila’s hand fell.

“You’re right. We’ve got to be brave like Ayska.” Iron wiped his eyes and crept outside, taking in the full view of the smoldering ruins once called Spineshell.

He and Kalila stood on the shattered platform of a lower balcony. The base of the once mighty tower stood a broken husk of its former self like the shattered base of a king’s chalice. Piles of shimmering blue collected around the ruin and breathed smoke into the sky.

Iron motioned for his companion. She edged toward him with her lips trembling, unharmed hand clutching the wrist of the wounded one.

They made their way over the collapsed tower. All around them, the great mound that formed Spineshell’s base burned from cannon fire that blasted craters into the once smooth stones. Other towers also lay in ruins while some held together just barely. Only the farthest structures remained unscathed. For how long, he couldn’t say.

Just around this tower, he’d find the
Scarlet Widowmaker
anchored in deep waters off the shore—Six willing. Ayska had faith. So should he.

He neared the seaward side of the ruin, and for the second time in those few short minutes in the open, Iron took a deep breath. There’d been no sign or sound of Caspran’s birds. Maybe the serpent priest had abandoned the sunken city once he destroyed it?

His sword flashed in a silver arc as he ripped it from its scabbard and bounded from the broken tower’s shadow. He lurched around the corner and skidded to halt. “Oh gods, what’s going on?”

The
Scarlet Widowmaker’s
crew stood at the shell’s lip just where it ended at the sea. Waves coursed onto the surface, soaking the crew’s feet like tongues tasting a meal. The sailors stood soldier straight, hands bound behind them, feet bound by barbed wires, mouths bound by rope. The lines all connected them to one another. Should one fall, all would. Should one drown, all would follow. Behind them, their ship belched charcoal smoke cast by roiling flames. Near the horizon, the High King’s galleys watched the once majestic ruins slowly collapse into the sea.

Kalila fell to her knees and sobbed. Iron rushed toward the crew.

Vigal’s sharp blue eyes widened as he shook his head and screamed through his gag. Round Gil did the same, his muffled words incomprehensible. Thip stood still as fresh ice while Fiolle’s chin dipped, tears rolling down her cheeks.
 

“Ah, there you are.” Caspran’s familiar voice hissed in a tone blended with delight and bitter rage.

Iron spun toward the alp’s voice. Caspran stood to the side, hooded head cocked like a curious wolf. His open hand revealed a shard of steel spinning just above it.
 

“Brother Caspran Bilshabel.” Iron’s blade quivered.

Caspran opened his other hand, and the razor floated to it. A light chuckle emanated from his hood’s shadows. “And you must be Iron.”

“How do you know—“

“Your name? I know much about you, Fireborn, more than you know about yourself. You and I share a past. Because of you, I had someone dear taken from me. My king wants you alive, but I think this world we are building would be better served without the curse of your life staining it.” He smirked and circled Iron. “Strange. I always imagined more melodrama when I slaughtered the Third Sun’s champion. Have the Six faded from Urum with such a measly whimper that they would send a child to face an alp? It’s not so surprising, I suppose. They are cowards, even though you’ll never hear the Burning Whore’s scripture teach you that.”

Iron lifted his chin and pointed Fang at Caspran’s chest. “Let my friends go. This fight’s between us. They’re innocent.”

“Innocent?” Caspran’s laugh pierced the sky and sent a shiver down Iron’s spine. “No men are innocent. You are weak, faithless creatures. You bend knees to dead gods who’ve stripped you of the one weapon you had that could stand against the alp. Innocent? No, you are not innocent, Iron. None of you are. I’ve tested the faith of many men. In the end, they all fail. I’ve found even the highest priest casts away his faith when his blood soaks the soil. You are too soft to hold real faith.”

“Let them go. I won’t say it again.” Iron gathered all the courage he could muster despite the sweat soaking his clothes and heartbeat thundering in his ears. He cast his eyes about for Sander. The man was nowhere to be found. So much for releasing him from the Sinner’s Oath. “I’m not interested in hearing a lecture from a half-wit from a dead Sun. Your age is over, Caspran. Your Sun will never rise again. The circle is broken, but I’ll fix it, and then I’ll come for your king.”

“Who says I want the Second Sun to rise again? You’re right, that time is over. The time of the Serpent Sun has come, and High King Sol will raise it with the same might that smashed the Six one, two, and three times now. But enough of this. Show me your power. Show me what the Fireborn can do. You must have something other than that pauper’s blade at your disposal.”

Iron’s gaze flicked down to weapon before darting back to his enemy. So Caspran couldn’t see it either.
I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but
…

He clenched his teeth and sprinted at the alp. He swung Fang behind his shoulder and feigned a lunge at Caspran’s neck, feet slipping into Shade Stride. For his part, the alp continued staring at Iron through the black mouth of his hood.

You wanted a champion. Give me the power to kill Caspran and I’ll be one
. At the last moment, Iron dove onto his knees and slid on the slick shell, slashing the blade at his enemy’s legs.
 

Caspran twisted to the side, the Fang of Asgeron slicing nothing more than his clothes. The alp’s free hand swiped in a hard line on Iron. Bone crunched. Iron screamed. Caspran snorted and smashed his backhand against Iron’s jaw.

Iron’s vision flashed, and a burning pain washed across his face. His head slammed into the ground as the casual strike slid him across to the water’s edge.

He grabbed Fang just as the blade rolled into the deep. Somehow, he came to his knees despite his world of pain and mouth filling with blood.
 

Magic could save him, if he could only use it. If the Six were more than avalanches, their champion could break this Sinner’s Oath to save another. A sinner lies to save a life. He could commit that sin to defeat Caspran.
Let me do it!

The Sinner’s power coursed through his blood. Iron brought it to his fingertips as he focused on the alp. Caspran stood exactly where he’d rotated, back facing Iron.

Iron raised his free hand. Caspran glanced over his shoulder and watched.
 

The magic swarmed at his fingertips. It wanted free. Iron begged it into the world. The air around him warmed.

And then, the cold chains of his oath lashed out and yanked the power back into his heart.
You’re not anything like you should be
, he told the gods.
You’re all fucking avalanches. I rode the thundersnow. You’re nothing.

“You poor thing,” Caspran said, clucking his tongue. “It appears as if the gods really have fled the world this time.”

Iron charged again. He vaulted at the alp, weapon pointed between Caspran’s shoulders. He screamed and drove Fang forward.
 

Caspran bent backwards in a way no human should—or could—ever twist. As Iron passed over the alp’s crooked body, the priest’s hand snapped out and latched on Iron’s ankle.
 

His world spun. Wind whistled in his ears. The ground grew farther while the broken tower grew closer. He slammed against the blue stone and spat blood. He hit the ground with a deep groan, and Fang clattered beside him. He blinked, confused. One eye no longer saw the world, and his nose spilled blood freely down his chin. Iron could have lain there forever. Gods knew that’s all he wanted, to collapse and let a long sleep take him from this pain.

Then he saw Vigal. Round Gil. Thip. Fiolle. Bound and gagged. Bound and gagged
by that demon. Bound and gagged because of Iron’s cursed calling.
 

No. I will not fail them. I will save you. I can save you!
His trembling hand found the sword. He struggled to his feet and turned to the alp.

Caspran stood an arm’s length from Iron, looking down. He laughed, kicking Iron against the wall. “You do have something godly in you, don’t you? I can see it.” Caspran’s amber eyes glittered within the hood. “Why do you stand, Fireborn? You are beaten. Beg for mercy.”

Iron swung his sword in a sloppy swipe. Caspran caught Iron’s wrist and snapped it. The sword fell with Iron’s shriek.

Caspran chuckled. “Humans. They break so easily. If you can’t defeat an alp, how do you suppose to defeat High King Sol and his glittering dragon? I’ll tell you a secret, Iron.” The alp leaned in so close Iron felt the priest’s breath wash across his ear. “Sol is more than human. You’ll never stop him, and you’ll never save the ones you love. None of the other Fireborn champions could, and they did not break like thin glass as you do.”

“There’s more to me…than…you think.” He coughed blood that splattered at his feet.

“Oh really? Now, how do I tease that power out of you?” Caspran turned to the crew. “They should do the trick.”

“
No!
” Iron’s gaze shot to his friends. A silvery razor whipped along the line of prisoners just beneath their chins. It left a trail of crimson in its wake.

Vigal fell first. His blue eyes held so much terror in them. Round Gil fell next, his great form collapsing onto the shell’s lip. Thip died third with a sad gurgle and a bloody throat. Last Fiolle fell. She did not cry, but looked upon the alp with rage.
 

Iron cried and thrashed in Caspran’s grasp. He screamed as Round Gil’s body tumbled into the Sapphire Sea. The line of fallen comrades bound to him disappeared one by one into the waves.

“They were slaves, Iron. Did you not see the brands? They deserved to die in chains. It was how they lived.”

Iron slumped against the tower wall.
No, no, no. They died. They showed me kindness, and they died for it
.
 

“I could save you, if you like.” An eager edge slipped in to Caspran’s voice. “Yes, you know our power. Come join our king and rule this world. He wants it. He wants
you
, Iron. Curse the Burning Mother. Cast off the Loyal Father. Forget the Slippery Sinner and the Coin Counter and Shining Child and Gentle Lover. They are gone. You are alone. It doesn’t have to be this way. Come.”

Caspran pressed a hand against Iron’s chest. With his other hand, he snapped, and Iron’s broken bones, cuts, bruises, and even blood vanished in a wash of warmth.