Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) Page 5

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I wasn’t before, but now I am. Gray’s fine and all, but he’s always so… dutiful.”

  “Looks like you just answered your own question. Who’s strapping down the animals? Who’s making sure all the night watches get covered?” She shrugged again. “I’m just saying.”

  Hand frozen on the cormac’s strap, Darius’ mouth worked but no words came out. “I…” he stumbled, and then cursed, tugging the already fully tightened strap and grumbling to himself. She heard some interspersed words as she finished cleaning up the camp. “Dicing… Gray… cormacs… women.”

  “Let’s get a move on,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of Gray traveling alone, even if it’s to scout ahead.”

  Darius grumbled, but made no objection as they mounted their steeds and started forward, leaving their camp behind. Before they left, they always made sure to brush down their camp with a large frond to ensure no one could tell anyone had been there. As for their footprints, they’d figured occasional winds would cover their tracks. She wasn’t sure what they had to be afraid of, but there seemed to be no sense in taking any chances. She couldn’t imagine Farhaven having bandits or thieves, but at the very least, it put her mind at ease.

  As they rode, she took in the landscape. The desert was dappled with bright green bushes that moved, swishing without so much as a hint of a breeze. She looked to the rogue who wore a pensive face as he stared at the desert ahead. “Darius?”

  He looked over at her, swaying in his saddle. “Yes?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  His eyes scrunched, looking thoughtful. “I don’t like the silence of the past few days.”

  “Gray said as much. He thinks there is something watching us,” she revealed.

  “I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right,” Darius said with a shiver. His hand idly reached for the dagger in the folds of his new clothes. She was so accustomed to the rogue’s secondhand rags that the fitted dark coat, polished boots, and deep black pants he now wore seemed odd. He wore an earth-green cloak of Elvin fabric and design, a long pointed hood with vines embroidered on its edge, which Karil had also gifted them. And while he often complained about the color—“the very worst of colors” as Darius put it, “no color that resembles vomit should be respected”—he still seemed to wear the cloak with pride. More than once she had seen him admiring the meticulous Elvin needlework—the flowing vines and silver-stitched leaves so graceful and vibrant that they almost appeared alive.

  Now, as he scratched his patchy stubble with his eyes fixed ahead, she realized she had grown comfortable around Darius—almost more so than Gray. There was less mystery around the rogue, but still she knew he had his secrets, as did she. For instance, why else was he here? The rogue seemed pulled by something more. Maybe they both were, she admitted. But who had Darius left behind in Lakewood? Sometimes she wanted to ask, but she saw the pain in his eyes when she brought up Lakewood. For both of them, it was still too raw a wound to discuss.

  “This land…” he continued, “it’s strange. I’ve never felt so at peace and yet so on edge all at the same dicing time. It’s like an inn full of music and cards that I’m sure to win, but beneath the table everyone is brandishing their daggers.”

  She nodded in agreement. “We’ll just be careful.”

  He agreed, and they continued until Ayva saw something on the horizon. A stand of bright green glimmered. It looked like a forest.

  “Do you see that?”

  He nodded. “It’s real.” Sometimes there had been false images. Mirages, she had read.

  “Do you think Gray is in there?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, but don’t stray too far from me.” With that, he spurred his cormac—Mirkal, he had begun to call it. When she questioned earlier why or what it meant, he had shrugged, saying it simply “felt right”.

  She nodded and veered her cormac closer. It listened with the slightest of commands. In fact, she didn’t even remember pulling her reins—it was almost as if the beast had felt her intention and reacted.

  They neared quickly.

  That was good. Sometimes things could seem a mile away and take days to reach, and other times a place may seem impossibly far and take mere minutes. The desert was strange that way. She wondered if such was the case with all of Farhaven.

  They stopped at the edge of the stand of trees. Inside, light illuminated the glade, streaming down like pillars of brilliant gold. The trees were thick, as if she had ventured into the heart of an ancient forest. Otherwise, there was no Gray, nor sign of life.

  Darius grumbled to himself, “Fool! What is he doing? Getting himself lost without us?”

  “Right? I thought that was your job,” she said then patted her cormac—she would have to come up with a name for the beautiful animal, but nothing yet had felt right. “Well, no use waiting out here,” she said before the rogue could retort, and she spurred the creature forward.

  “Argh, wait up!” Darius cried, racing to catch up.

  They entered, and cool air met them. Ayva took a deep breath and felt a heavier magic in the air. She saw more motes of gold floating before her eyes. This place… it is truly magical… As they wove through the majestic trees, she saw signs of life. Flowers dappled the bright, moss-covered ground—red, blue, green, white, purple, and a hundred other colors Ayva didn’t even know existed. Nearby, butterflies the size of her head flitted from branch to flower. Their wings were silver and gold. She found her breath taken by the beauty of it all. Even Darius whistled through his teeth at the sight. They wove through a last batch of willow-like trees, and Ayva gasped at the sight before her. At her side, Darius cursed.

  Beyond them was a large clearing. In the center, there was a body of water, large enough to be bigger than a pond but smaller than a lake, and around it, life flourished. There were mushrooms the size of stools with speckled tops, and ferns that dipped their branches into the cool water. The ground was grass in most places, and in others, moss that was green, blue, and even blood red. Huge, shelled creatures moved slowly amid the cerulean water, several of them awkwardly scooting upon the grassy ground, like reptilian children learning to walk. At the other end of the lake, Ayva saw a flock of green-feathered birds standing on two long legs, bathing. They looked up at their entrance but then paid the humans no mind. Above the water, dozens of butterflies danced among the hanging specks of gold.

  “Dicing dice,” Darius cursed. “What is this place?”

  Ayva shook her head, at a loss for words. Quickly, she dismounted and approached the water. Darius joined her. The warm sun blanketed her, and she felt alive, as if feeding off its vitality. Smaller butterflies flitted around her, and she heard an enchanting hum in the air like music. She reached down to touch one of the shelled reptiles and felt a hand upon her shoulder. She nearly leapt out of her skin. Turning, she saw Gray’s familiar face wearing an impish smile.

  “Gray!” Immediately she rose and hugged him. At first he didn’t respond, but then he returned the gesture, and she felt his strong arms. She pushed away. “You nearly scared me half to death! What did you think you were doing, leaving us like that then jumping out of nowhere? Where have you been?”

  Standing there, Gray looked different. Powerful, she thought. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore his usual threadbare gray cloak with its crossed swords, but now he wore new clothes, another gift of Karil’s—dark pants and a shirt with a fitted gray vest, cinched by a leather belt with a white-metal buckle. Upon his arms were leather bracers with silver accents. Stubble from the days of travel now began to grow evenly along his cheeks, and dark brown hair dangled about his shoulders. He held her gaze, just like the night before, making her swallow. “To be honest,” Gray said, “I saw you both a bit ago, but I wanted to see your reaction to this place. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  Ayva was silent, raptured in the moment. The sun grew toasty upon her cheek, and she held up a hand,
watching as the butterflies danced around it like a pole in the center green of the Harvest Festival, wanting nothing more than to let the moment continue forever.

  “Amazing, indeed,” Darius breathed, “but what is it?”

  “It’s a sanctuary,” Gray said.

  Drawn back by her curiosity, Ayva questioned, “From what? And how do you know that?” He seemed to know more and more of late, but where was he getting his answers? Did he have some book he’d not shared?

  “I’m not sure,” he answered. “But whatever the reason, it explains why we haven’t seen much of the inhabitants of Farhaven until now.”

  “And as for how you knew?” Darius asked.

  “I’m a Devari.”

  Ayva raised a curious brow. “And that means?”

  “I thought you had heard Karil or Maris explain it,” he said, but she shook her head. “Well, Devari live in Farbs. I guess they, and I, have this power called the ki. I’m not very good with it yet, but it allows me to sense other beings, humans or animals, to feel how they feel.”

  “Like empathy?” she asked.

  “That and more. I literally am those creatures for a time, inhabiting their bodies with my mind.”

  “That sounds… terrifying,” Darius said with a shiver.

  He shook his head. “It’s not really. In fact, it’s amazing to truly connect and understand another creature. I can feel these animals. They are afraid, but here they feel safe… Like a beast in a self-made cage. A cage they feel is closing in around them.”

  Darius snorted, “Thank you, but no thank you. I prefer staying in my own skin.”

  Ayva smacked his arm. “That sounds amazing,” she said. “A true gift.” To understand another living being fully was a thing she tried to do but knew no one could truly accomplish until one could feel what others felt.

  At that moment, a bloody cry split the air. Ayva jumped, grabbing Gray’s arm. Darius leapt as well, reaching for his blade in his black-green coat, twisting and turning as the cry continued, echoing through the woods. Across the lake, creatures bolted into the dense foliage while birds took to the air and the shelled beasts skittered into the water’s depths.

  “What in the light was that?” Darius asked.

  They looked at one another, and Ayva knew that each was thinking the same thing.

  It sounded like the cry of a child.

  Ayva realized her fingers still gripped Gray’s arm. She let go. He offered her a smile of reassurance, but she knew him well enough by now to see uncertainty behind his piercing gray-green eyes. He looked ahead sternly. “We need to investigate.”

  “Oh, of course, go on ahead! Meanwhile, I’ll just make sure this lake doesn’t go anywhere.” Darius hunkered down, sitting cross-legged.

  “We, Darius,” Gray said. “We cannot afford to move alone.” He looked to Ayva.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Together.”

  Darius grumbled, but as always, she tuned him out and moved to her cormac.

  They mounted and moved into the woods together. They passed tall trees, their roots sprouting from the ground. Between the folds of their bark, she saw flowing silver, moving as if alive. Silveroots, she knew—a rare type of Farhaven tree whose sap was pure silver. The cry sounded again, louder this time. So close, she thought. Suddenly Darius’ cormac—Mirkal—took off into a full gallop as if sprinting after the sound.

  “Darius!” Gray said, reaching for the reins, but he was too slow.

  “Help!” The rogue cried out in surprise, but then he was gone.

  Ayva spurred her cormac hard, and Gray did the same. They raced through thick trees, ducking beneath low-hanging branches until they heard another sharp scream. Darius. They parted the last stand of trees. Ayva pulled hard on her reins to slow the animal’s gallop, but before she could, the cormac stopped dead still, nearly catapulting her over its head. When she settled, she took in the scene.

  Darius hung upside down in the air, suspended from a bough high above by a thick rope that was wrapped around his ankle. Before him was a woman with fiery red hair spilling over her shoulders. Horror and anger warped Darius’ face, and Ayva realized the woman held a dagger to his throat.

  “You fool!” the woman seethed. “You let her get away!”

  “Let who get away?” Darius stuttered, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

  Her dagger pressed closer.

  Gray quickly dismounted, striding toward the woman. Ayva saw he held Morrowil—its tip aimed at the woman’s nape, ready to cut. “If your blade moves another hair, you will find your head and body no longer joined. Now, let him go,” he ordered. Ayva shivered. For all the world Gray pretended to not be Kail, sometimes… he sounded… No, she thought, refusing to think of the mad legend as Gray.

  The woman, hearing the threat in Gray’s voice, slowly backed away from Darius.

  Quickly, Ayva threw her leg over the saddle and fell to Darius’ side. She eyed the ropes on his ankle. Ayva had seen some knots in her time, but nothing like this. It would make Ole’ Rubis, Lakewood’s weaver, flounder in red-faced confusion.

  “Get me out of this cursed thing—all the blood is rushing to my head.” Darius pulled himself up to untie his bonds.

  “I wouldn’t…” the woman whispered.

  Darius paused. “Why?”

  Ayva ignored her and moved to help him.

  “If you untie him, you will die.”

  “Is that a threat, stranger?” Gray asked stepping forward and pressing Morrowil to the woman’s slender throat.

  Ayva took her in finally. Though a dark, dust-cloak hid her frame, it did nothing to detract from her looks. Fiery red hair framed a heart-shaped face. It fell in waves like a waterfall across her shoulders. Her eyes were light brown, soft on anyone else, but on her, they were russet daggers. She eyed all three of them like curious playthings. The woman was gorgeous, in a rough-hewn, hard way. If anything, it only made her all the more attractive, like a flower that bit back.

  “My name is Faye. And it is the simple truth. The rope is oiled with a poison, and anyone who touches it will die.” She said the words so plainly, as if speculating whether there would be rain or sunshine.

  “Then we can just cut it with a sword…” Gray looked to Ayva. She nodded, unsheathing her dagger. It blazed white, sucking in the clearing’s light.

  “Well, that’s not a bad idea on its own,” Faye mused, “but still he will die.”

  Ayva hesitated, hand wavering.

  “Spit it out,” Gray ordered. “Why?”

  The woman nodded to three different points, “In the bushes there, there and there, are fine poisonous darts aimed directly at your friend here. If anyone dares so much as breathe upon that rope, they will fire, triggered by a pulley system. It’s a fairly simple trap, but an effective one.”

  Ayva ground her teeth. “Enough. You created it, so you know how to disarm it. Tell us.”

  Faye raised a single brow, eyeing Morrowil’s point. “May I?”

  “Throw your blade on the ground first,” he ordered.

  “Well, unless you want me to cut rope with my teeth?”

  “Fine. But one wrong move…”

  “Right, right, and I’m dead. I got that.” Gray lowered Morrowil. Faye moved fluidly, cutting something within each of the bushes a dozen paces away that circled the clearing. “There, that should do it,” she said and stuffed her long, curved dagger into a sheath behind her back. She looked too well practiced at that, Ayva thought. All three stood, frozen. “Well, go ahead, and cut him down.”

  Ayva moved to cut the rope, but it was too high to reach, especially with her dagger. If she could jump and… She reached into her mind, leapt and… Something fizzled, and the rope snapped. Darius fell with a grunt, hitting the soft forest floor.

  Suddenly, Ayva saw Faye dash, blade withdrawn.

  Everyone moved at once. Gray raised a hand. Darius cried out, reaching for his blade. Ayva moved to jump before him, raising her dagge
r, but they were all too slow.

  The woman was quick. She sliced but then missed, only cutting the air, then froze, as if purposively. She knelt, putting her dagger upon the ground and raised her hands meekly, though it looked like steel pretending to be soft.

  Darius lay on his back, hands shielding his face. “Dice! What just happened?”

  Gray’s hands slowly fell to his side. He moved before Darius and picked up the two halves of something.

  A wooden dart.

  Faye smiled. “Seems I forgot one. My mistake.”

  Gray growled and dropped the halves to the ground. “I don’t know whether to thank you for saving his life or end you right here for nearly taking it,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I merely righted a wrong—take it as you will.”

  Ayva offered her hand to Darius, helping him up.

  “Thanks,” he said sincerely. He was changing, she realized. He rose, brushing his pants and cloak free of dirt and dried bits of leaves.

  Faye moved to rise and she grunted, a look of confusion crossing her face. Ayva saw that thick roots were twined around her leg, holding her in place. She would never have reached Darius, she realized. “What is this?” Faye asked. “Which of you did this?”

  Ayva felt a shiver and looked to Gray. “You can…”

  Gray shook his head. “It wasn’t me.” He looked to Darius.

  All three eyed the rogue. Darius’ face was deathly pale. “I…”

  “Enough!” Faye snapped, growling and drawing their attention back. She was bound in vines fully now, her arms and wrists trapped at her sides. “Release me this instant!”

  Gray moved forward, but Darius rose. “Wait,” he said. His eyes narrowed as if concentrating. On the roots? Or perhaps on something in his own head… He raised his hand and slowly, the roots unfurled, slinking off of Faye’s foot and disappearing back into the ground.

  Ayva’s throat went dry, taking a step back. “How did you…?”

  Darius shook his head, looking confused. He looked to his hands as if they were not his own. “I don’t know… I just felt it. Sitting there, waiting.”