The Fire King (30 page)

The man, Robert, was up front behind the wheel used as the car’s steering mechanism. Beside him sat his youthful companion, with her eyes like a cobra’s, her personality just as lethal. He had never seen such an odd pair.

Soria rested close, on her side, facing him, his right hand in her left. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and occasionally her mouth touched the same spot. The comfort he took from her presence ignited a heat inside him that he had never felt or considered. Such a simple thing—having her lie beside him in this strange dark wagon, in this even stranger world—and yet, being near her was like resting in the presence of a great and wondrous mystery, the kind that had no answer but existed solely as a delight of magic, proof that the wondrous did indeed happen.

He could not say any of that, though. Not simply because they were in the company of others, and not because he was shy around her, for he was not. Saying certain words cheapened them. Feelings were not words. Actions were not words. Words were fleeting. It was the look in the eye that lingered, or a touch, or moments such as this that he would always remember: in pain, fearful … but oddly content.

“They are alive,” he whispered to Soria, as he watched lights pass in a blur beyond the glass of the wagon, lights that reminded him of lives. “Not many, and they are scattered. But they are alive. The chimera exist.”

“How do you know?” she asked softly, her voicing of his language little more than a purr. “What I saw … I did not know you could do that.”

“Blood calls,” Karr said quietly, his scar aching. “Not many were capable of that magic, but my mother had certain gifts that she passed on to me. I used it, sometimes, to find lost children.” He hesitated. “Maybe I should not have taken the risk. In hindsight, I cannot believe that I did. But it was worth it, just to know.”

“Are any close?”

“I think so, yes. But I have only a vague sense of where they might be. There was a cluster to the northwest, and one very far from here, in the heart of the land south of the Nile.”

Soria tensed. “Really.”

“You know something?”

“No,” she said, and then hesitated again. “A little over a year ago, right around the time I was hurt, a place was found where shape-shifters had been imprisoned. Taken by humans for experiments in breeding. The people I work for managed to free them, but there were pregnancies involving many human women. Given the nature of the experiments, I suppose it’s possible that some chimeras were made. On purpose. Just to see what would happen.”

“Humans hurting shape-shifters?” Karr exhaled slowly. “Controlling them? Using them in such ways? I cannot imagine.”

“They hide for a reason,” Soria answered, her hand tightening around his. “You will have to do the same, or else live where there are no humans.”

“Do such places exist?”

“They are rare.” Soria smiled against his shoulder. “You might have to compromise.”

Will
you
be there?
Karr wanted to ask, shutting his eyes against the lights and passing buildings, trying not to listen to the roar that the wagon made around him. Dizzying sights and sounds. This was a world Soria had been born to, and took for granted. She had a life here. He had nothing but himself.

So, nothing has changed. All you ever had was yourself. You can still be useful. Perhaps you are no longer a warlord, but you know things that no one else does. You know of a world and life that has been dead for thousands of years. That is worth something.

The wagon made a sharp turn and then slowed. Soria struggled to sit up.
“Where are we?”

“I had a contact set up a safe house for us,”
Robert said, turning in the seat to look at them.
“My people can be trusted.”

“Your people,”
she said dryly.
“I thought you were a mercenary.”

“I am.”
Robert smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.
“And I am very good at what I do.”

Soria gave him a sour look. Karr glanced at the girl seated up front, and found her staring back with eyes so flat that he seriously considered killing her just to be on the safe side. Instead, he held himself still as she slid gracefully from the wagon, taking with her a large black bag into which she had slid her sticklike weapon. Robert opened the side door and offered a pale, sinewy hand.

Karr took it. He did not want the man’s help, but his pride had limits and his legs felt as though they were still being sawed with wire. Gritting his teeth, squeezing Soria’s hand, he hobbled from the wagon toward a door that the girl held open some short distance away. The city was quiet in this district, though Karr heard the distant buzz of voices and strange music. The buildings reminded him of what he had seen in Erenhot: windows covered in bars, smooth pale stone, simple nameless lights. These were functional in ways that should have dazzled him but that did not. There was no loveliness in the stone here, nothing that begged the eternal, as had the temples in the Nile kingdoms or near the dark seas of the Hittites. Even the nomads had kept about them a warm, living lushness.

It was cold inside the building they entered, but quiet. The air smelled clean. Not much to see except a table and chairs. Robert led them into another room where there was a large bed pushed against the wall beneath a startling painting of a naked woman. Karr stared for a moment, tore his gaze away, and eased himself onto the bed. He was accustomed to sleeping on the ground, but the padding was soft and felt good on his aching body. He tried not to sigh, and closed his eyes.

“Interesting,”
he heard Soria say.
“You decorate this yourself?”

“I leave that to experts,”
Robert replied.
“Make yourself comfortable, if possible. Ku-Ku will be nearby.”

“Leaving already?”

“Research. We need to learn who in town might have an ancient sword collection. There can’t be many.”

Soria was silent a moment. Karr cracked open one eye and saw her giving the man a pensive look.
“Where did Roland find you?”

Robert smiled.
“Maybe I found him.”

He turned and left the room. Karr muttered, “You are surrounded by strange people.”

Soria shot him a wry look, and shut the door before coming back to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s just me now. If you want to scream from the pain, I promise not to tell.”

Karr could not help but smile, though that hurt as well. “Come. Rest beside me. Perhaps I will scream very quietly in your ear.”

“Exactly what a girl wants to hear.” Soria curled on the bed, angling her body away from his so that her legs would not accidentally brush against him. Her distance—when she was so close—was as frustrating as the pain. He wanted to feel her body pressed tight against him.

He settled for holding her small hand, savoring the press of her head against his shoulder and the rare sense of place and time he felt in her presence: not displaced, not lost in another world but anchored here and now, because he knew her. Because, miracle upon miracle, he trusted her. This woman—his enemy, his friend, his mystery.

“When I died,” he said quietly, after a long silence, “this is not what I expected.”

Soria exhaled sharply. “What was it like?”

Karr closed his eyes. “A long nightmare. Darkness and dreams. Memories that never ceased. I was always battling, always in blood, with brief moments of peace that never lasted. But I always believed we become in death what we were in life, so I suppose I should have expected nothing less than what I received.”

“That is horrible,” Soria replied. “Are you sure you were dead?”

“Maybe I am not alive even now. Perhaps this is part of the vast dream, and I have simply moved from one state of sleep to another. It would make more sense than all the wonders and tragedy I have seen since opening my eyes.”

“I do not feel like a dream,” Soria murmured.

“You do to me,” he replied gently—and, feeling bold, kissed the top of her head.

She scooted closer and brushed her mouth against his.

Her touch was exquisitely tender. No one had ever been so careful with him.

“You touch me as though you are afraid I will break.”

“Maybe I am,” she whispered, her eyes like dark honey. “You are not invincible.”

“Simply hard to kill.”

She smiled, but it was strained. “Just once. I would rather not tempt fate again.”

“Really.” Karr swallowed hard, his heart aching. “Would you grieve for me?”

Soria looked away, but not before he caught a glint in her eyes that was bright and pained. Tears?

The sight stole his breath, his voice. He let his hands play at words: dragging her close, ignoring the pain that caused, caring only that he could touch her face, brush his thumb over her soft lips. Her face was hot and flushed, and he breathed, “Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly, and it was almost too much to see the expression in her eyes, her weariness and grief, the pain of loss.

“I think you might miss me,” he whispered. “But I am not gone yet.”

“Why would you stay? After all this is done, why—?” Soria stopped herself, jaw clenched tight. She looked ashamed, maybe even disgusted, and stared down at her empty sleeve. At first he thought she might believe he cared about her disfigurement, but memories passed through him, insight trickling into instinct, and he grasped at a possible truth, one that grew stronger the longer he studied her face.

“You had no one after you lost your arm,” he said carefully. “No one but family. But there was more than that, I think. Someone abandoned you.”

“He had his reasons,” she said. “Reasons that were important to him, though that did not make it right.”

Not right at all. To be hurt in such a violent way, and then be abandoned, heartbroken … it was more than most would be able to bear. Anger rose through him, but there was nothing he could do except transform his emotions into furious tenderness. The past was never entirely dead, but it did not have to poison the present, or future. He was beginning to see that now.

“So you left and cared for yourself alone.” His hand tightened against her face, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And you are used to that. You think it makes you strong. And it does. But there is no shame in saying that is not enough. That you … need.”

Soria shook her head, still not looking at him, and gave a halfhearted chuckle. “And who, or what, have you ever needed? You—warlord, prince. Going to battle, living your epic life.”

“I needed no one,” he said truthfully. “And I lived as I believed. I needed no one, because no one suited me—and I was not cheap with my heart, even if my body wanted to be otherwise at times. Princesses, you remember. Many princesses, tossed at my feet.”

That made her laugh fully, which was what he had intended. Karr smiled, running his hands down her braids, loosening the cords that bound them. Her hair, thick and heavy, unfurled in his hands. “And then I woke from death. I found myself in the presence of my enemy—my lovely, brave enemy—who I found suits me, curiously and unexpectedly.”

Warmth replaced the shadows in her eyes. “How do I suit you? My skill with words? I think that might be the only reason you like me.
If
you like me.”

“I like you,” Karr breathed. “And I am not ashamed to say I need you. Not simply for your words or your knowledge, but because …”

He stopped, searching his mind and memory, thinking of all his years on the move, serving those he loved, fighting endlessly to protect and feed them, searching for alliances that would strengthen, always strengthen, those generations yet to come. He had not been alone, but he had stood alone. It had seemed necessary.

With anyone else, he would have still felt alone. Here, in this city, on a battlefield, with other chimera, in a wagon crammed with bodies—he would have been alone in his heart. But not anymore.

“I need you,” he finished simply, unable to find better, stronger words. He picked up her hand and placed it over his chest. “You are here, inside me. Part of me. And I need you.”

Soria stared at their joined hands and then met his gaze with a heat that he felt down to his bones. And then the way she looked at him shifted again, with uneasiness and pain.

“My arm,” she said hesitantly. “Do you want to know?”

“Yes,” he said, afraid of what he saw in her eyes.

“It was someone I knew.” Soria smiled, but there was no humor; just a grim, almost gruesome incredulousness as though she still could not believe what had happened. “I did not know it, though. He had changed, aged. An uncle I never much saw. But he and I had a history from when I was little. Not a good one.”

Karr tensed and she shook her head. “Nothing ever happened back then. But he tried and I told, and I never saw him again. I forgot him. But he did not forget me. I think he wanted to punish me for how my father and the rest of the family threw him away.”

Soria closed her eyes. “He knew my schedule. I was going home and saw an old man at the side of the road who needed help. So I stopped. He … drugged me. Put me in the trunk of his car. Took me to his home, locked me in the basement. He told me who he was, and when he did … I knew. I knew that was it. I was not the first girl he had done this to, either. He had pictures. A system. He liked them to fight him. It turned him on.” She drew in a ragged breath, trembling. “So I woke up with my right arm in chains, all the way up near my shoulder, and lower, at my wrist. A knife at my side. He said that I had a choice. Fight him in the morning or kill myself.”

Karr shook with rage. “Soria.”

“It was not a big knife,” she whispered. “I knew he would rig the fight. My good old uncle.”

“Soria,” he said again, but her face twisted in a grimace, and she tucked her chin down against her chest, huddling closer.

“I did not want to die. I did not want him to—” She stopped, then, for a long moment. “The cuff on my upper arm was too tight to move down past my elbow. That is why I lost so much. I had a shoelace I managed to tie around … you know, up high. To help with the blood. But the pain …”

Her voice was suddenly too hoarse to go on. Karr dragged her deep into his arms, horrified for her, wishing he could be in her memories to ease her pain—to move through time and stop it all before it had happened. Magic had brought him back to life. There had to be magic for time, as well.