Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (14 page)

The girl hesitated. Good, at least she had
that
much sense.

Faye shook her head, sitting down heavily and busying herself with oiling and sharpening her dagger. The scrape of stone against steel filled the glade, but she felt a pair of eyes on her.

Beyond their grassy camp, night had settled around the Node. Here, in this place, even darkness was filled with light and magic. Blue frost bugs hovered above the white pond, which now glittered, lit by the full moon. Beneath the water, silver and orange fish darted—big ones. The air held bits of magic in it too, little blue and white specks. They fell upon the nearby moss, and the moss glowed as if warmed by the touch of the spark.

The Node filled Faye with a restful sensation as usual, and the moment was peaceful and serene.

She hated it.

Nearby, a fire crackled, sparks of red and black spitting into the air. It was cooler in this Node, but the fire was not for warmth. A black, sinewy arm burned in its center. Darkwalkers would burn given time. She covered her mouth from the strange stench, like rotting corpses mixed with something sour.

The girl continued to eye her like a slighted serving girl. At last Faye sighed and spoke without looking up. “Things don’t spoil the same in Farhaven. Some things stay good for months or longer, others only moments. But spoiling doesn’t equate to sickness like in the weak lands of Daerval. Did you see the black tops of those roots?”

Ayva nodded, slowly.

“That means death.”

“But it was so subtle… How?”

Faye felt her jaw tighten. She stabbed her dagger into a mossy patch. “Because! You are a swaddled babe in a new world and, as such, you are completely out of your element. This is a world of subtleties.” Again, the simple words were like a blow to the girl’s gut.

But this time she took an even breath and extracted another leather pouch. She upended it onto the mossy ground. “And these? Bulba Flowers?” They were purple and brown flowers, alternating, their petals finger-thick.

Faye smiled. “Try one.”

Ayva eyed her like a deadly Uni Asp. “Are they…”

“Poisonous? Not at all.”

The girl’s eyes never left her. She grabbed one, put it to her lips, and bit. Immediately, she gagged, spitting the parts onto the forest floor of the Node. “
Ugh!
I’ve never tasted anything so horrid! It’s like rancid meat… How can that be? You poisoned me!” She scrambled for the nearby water skin, gargling and spitting in disgust.

“No. They just taste awful. One has to be on the verge of death to eat a Bulba Flower. They are fairly nutritious however.”

Ayva scrubbed her tongue with her fingers, eyes still watering.

“Stop embellishing,” Faye said, but she knew the girl wasn’t overreacting. It
was
that foul.

“Why do they taste that bad?” Ayva asked.

“Their bitter, foul taste is a defense mechanism against predators like you.”

“You could have warned me,” she said.

Faye rose angrily. “I’m growing tired of your ignorance. For my sake, and for your own, just don’t touch anything anymore, ever. I promised Gray I would get you all to Farbs in one piece, and at the rate you’re going, I won’t succeed.” Ayva held her gaze, blue eyes burning with hatred. At last, she lowered her head.
Good,
Faye thought, feeling a tad pleased with herself. The girl had a surprising backbone. One she didn’t deserve if she couldn’t take the truth.

Gray approached.

With a strong jaw, nose, and piercing green eyes, he was handsome, she admitted to herself again. Despite the slow aging of Farhaven, she guessed he was her age, or a year or two younger, but he appeared more youthful. She liked that. Not to mention, she had seen the way he looked at her. Not like most men, but still—beauty was beauty. Fortunately for him, she had no
real
interest in such things. To her, it was like admiring a painting, or, better yet, the craftsmanship of a fine sword. Yet… She hesitated. There was a darkness in his eyes that he tried to hide.

He took in the tension of the glade, but ignored it and spoke, “You two ready to leave? Ayva?”

Ayva rose. “You’re well enough to ride already?”

“Gray,” Faye said. He turned to her. Yes, there was a hollowness to his gaze, but he had the practice of a Devari, hiding all emotions, just like her father had taught her.

Darius, the fool, came leading the three cormacs, the longhaired steeds with dazzling white coats.

“You all worry too much. I’m well enough,” he answered at last, but he sucked in a tight breath, touching his ribs.

Faye snorted. “Foolish man.”

Ayva looked at her in agreement, but then shook her head, as if uncomfortable with that.

“We’ve a long way to go, and no time to waste,” Gray said.

The four stood in a strange, awkward silence.

“Well? Are you going to tell them?” Faye said.

“Tell us what?” Ayva asked.

“Faye is coming with us,” Gray announced.

Ayva’s jaw dropped. She strode forward to Gray, her body quaking in anger and exchanged a string of heated words. Faye watched impassively. At last, Ayva ignored her, looking to Darius. “And you’re all right with this? The woman who tried to take your head back to the Citadel on a platter riding along with us?”

Darius shrugged, abashed. “I tried to talk him out of it at first, like you, but really, Ayva, he has a point. The woman has already told me seven different ways I nearly died on our journey up until now. We know nothing of Farhaven, and we’re still a week away from Farbs. Listen, I don’t like her any more than you do,” he looked to Faye, “No offense, but I don’t.”

Faye shrugged.

Darius continued, “I hate to say it, but we need her.” The fool, aside from the girl, was the farthest from warming to her. He was street-wise, she sensed. Faye smiled calmly, amused by the whole interaction.

“She’s coming,” Gray said firmly. “We need her.”

Ayva’s eyes burned with a quiet fury.

Something flashed between those two—a mere flicker, but Faye knew people, or at least knew how to watch for signs. Something between them was breaking, or had just broken.

Darius rubbed the back of his head nervously. “C’mon, Ayva. It makes sense and you know it.”

“You’re pathetic,” she snapped. “Both of you, and when she turns on us, you’ll see. Oh sure, she plays a decent game at acting the savior, but she is dark to the core.” With that, she grabbed her smaller cormac, leapt into its saddle, and started off.

Faye made her face smooth, saying nothing.

“I really hope we made the right decision,” Darius grumbled, taking to his steed.

Faye held Gray’s eyes. He glowered at her, dark and brooding.
Handsome indeed,
she thought. She knew he was judging her, trying to see into her. She felt something prick upon her skin, hairs rising.
Ki?
She eyed him, curious.
Perhaps there’s more to this Devari stunt than I figured.
Casually, she rebuffed his attempt, erecting a shield of emotions just as her master—and father—had taught her, a useful trick she’d learned growing up within Farbs, surrounded by Reavers and Devari.

Frustration seeped into Gray’s features. He sheathed his curious blade in its kingly scabbard of gold and silver and mounted the cormac, riding up to her side. “Don’t disappoint me or I will kill you myself.”

Her smile deepened, slightly. “Yes, master.”

Si’tu’ah, The Way of the Sword

F
AYE FOUND HERSELF RIDING BESIDE
A
YVA
and watching the woods. Butterflies, dragonflies, and songbirds moved about them, fluttering from tree to tree. The soft, lilting song of the Node plied her, but she ignored it, thoughts turning to Farbs and her mission.

She would get the beast, and she would return with it in hand. Then he would listen to her, and give her what she wanted. Iris was waiting for her, she told herself.
At the next Node I will find the leader of the phoxes and take her back, unharmed.
‘
A hunter never loses its prey’
—echoed her old master’s voice.

“Teach me.”

Faye twisted, looking shocked. Her surprise put a smile on the girl’s face. “Teach you?”

“Did I stutter?” Ayva asked. Faye growled. “That is, unless you think you are a poor teacher and know less than you think you do.”

“I am a poor teacher. Teach yourself.”

“Ah, but you just said I will die if I attempt such a thing.”

Faye had trouble not biting her own tongue.
Fool
, she thought, speaking to herself, maneuvering through a last stand of Silveroots. Her horse, Yarish—in the sand tongue it meant
long strider
—stepped lightly down the grassy hill. She said nothing.

“Let’s start simple, shall we? I ask questions, you answer them. That’s all.”

“I shall think on it.” Faye rode in contemplative silence.

As they left the safety of the Node and entered the Reliahs Desert, a fear slipped beneath her skin. Tan dunes sat in the far distance. Nearby, it was simply sand and grass. She warily eyed the east and west, looking for signs of the Darkwalkers. Nothing. But she knew there were other dangers out here besides Darkwalkers. The Reliahs Desert was infamously perilous. Bandits and predators abounded, not to mention the sudden shifts in the land called tremors. The temperature alone could change faster than a pickpocket’s hand. In one lungful you could inhale stifling heat, and in the next exhale a frosty breath.

She thought about Ayva’s proposal. Reluctantly, she admitted she was right… Faye couldn’t let her die. She never broke a promise. Especially not a blood pact—Farhaven would extract the price from her. And slapping the girl’s wrist every time she turned around was not only impractical, but also tiring. Not to mention that teaching allowed Faye a chance to show at least a glimmer of the knowledge she’d acquired under
his
tutelage.

“Surely, the ever-wise Faye wouldn’t want to break a promise and endanger—”

“—Fine,” she said, cutting her off.
Backbone indeed,
she thought. “You will be my apprentice. But if we do this, we do it the right way. The Farhaven way,” she said and felt a toothy grin crease her face. “You will call me
Sunha
, and I will call you
Diaon
. One means ‘the learned’, and the other means ‘knows nothing’. I assume you know which is which.” Ayva bit her lip. It was a habit Faye had noticed when the girl was truly frustrated. “This is a common tradition in Farhaven from master to apprentice. See? Your first lesson. But know this: I will not be easy on you.”

“I understand,” Ayva said.

“No, you do not,” Faye said. “When I was a Diaon, I would rarely answer wrongly. But when and if I did,
my
master would whip me, beating me fiercely until once-healed scabs oozed, or until I coughed blood from my mouth. ‘To know the pain inside is to know true failure,’ he would say.” She unbound her armguard and pulled back her sleeve to expose a thick white scar that ran wrist to elbow. “He preferred to keep the wounds temporary. I was of more use… unblemished. But this one was his reminder.”

Ayva looked horrified, but she kept it hidden well.

Faye’s vision flashed back to her past.

He stood over her, but her vision swam, dark spots floating before her eyes. The room spun.
I’m losing too much blood,
she knew. No, he was wiser than her. He would know her limits. Dimly, she heard his words. He was asking her something.

Respond!

“Where is pain, Diaon?”

“Everywhere, Sunha,” she whispered, sputtering blood.

Wrong. She felt it before the words left her mouth. It had sounded like the right answer… Why? Why was she such a fool? His hand lifted, obscuring the sunlight behind him from the single high barred window. The room was a small square with only weapons of death, a bucket of cold water, a small cot, and books. Her room.

His hand lowered, falling to his side. She hid a sigh of relief, for that would surely get her beaten. He answered in a dark voice, like crackling thunder, “At one time, I might have agreed, but I have evolved beyond such notions. Pain is a tool, and it is only in your mind, Diaon. Make the mind strong, the will unbreakable, and your knowledge deep, and you will not suffer the only true pain—the pain of defeat.”

The vision shattered.

She found herself in her saddle, riding quietly, listening to the soft clop of her horse’s hooves. Patches of green grass and dry desert stretched ahead. Behind them, she felt Gray and Darius’ presence. They were laughing.
Friends,
she thought, remembering the fool rogue’s words. The girl’s gaze was hot on her, but she ignored it and spoke. “I will not be so hard, but I will not be soft either.”