Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (15 page)

Ayva said, “You may think me weak, but I can handle more than you think.”

Faye eyed the girl sidelong. She had a pretty face. Light freckles speckled her cheeks, and fine, short-cropped, brown hair swayed slightly as she maneuvered her cormac—elegant steeds of the elves.
How?
she wondered. The elves would never give away a cormac. Then she shook her head. It made no difference to her. She saw strength in Ayva. The girl’s light blue eyes were not hardened like hers, but they held a surprising note of perseverance. Knowing a person’s limits was a talent of Faye’s. She had to know, so she could break them.

“We have one week until we reach Farbs,” she announced. “I have promised to train Gray in
si’tu’ah
, or the Way of the Sword. That comes first. With my remaining time, I will teach you the wisdom of this world.” She allowed herself a smile. “It’s hard to say which is more vital to not dying. Together, you will be a formidable couple.”

Though she meant the words without sexual implication, the girl’s face grew a red as dark as Sevian wine.
Oh really? Interesting,
she thought. Faye herself despised sex, but all knowledge was useful—simply a tool like coin to be saved, and then used when the moment was right.

“Let’s begin now,” Ayva said.

Faye lifted a brow, imploringly.

“…Sunha,” Ayva added, reluctantly.

She sighed. “Ask.”

Ayva nodded. “What other dangers are there in these lands?”

Faye’s eyes nearly rolled at that question. So many answers… “I will answer this, Diaon, but from now on be more specific. Use the knowledge of the books you read, and I will dispel fact from fiction.”

“Yes, Sunha,” she said, almost servile.

Yes, she will learn, slowly, but she will learn,
Faye thought,
and began listing the multitude of dangers in the Reliahs Desert, answering questions
from how a Tumai plant could heal one’s burns, to the history of dragons—dating back to their blood feud with the race of elves—to which Great Kingdoms had been lost or destroyed during the Lieon. All knew that wind, water, stone, moon, and metal had fallen during the great war, though now water was rebuilt upon the sea, moon was still standing but run by thieves, and stone was said to exist secluded somewhere in the east. The questions veered this way and that in topic, but mostly focused on the many perils of the land.

After traveling awhile, Faye was exhausted. Blood and dust, did the girl’s questions never end? She had gotten better about narrowing her questions, allowing Faye to answer in the simple, concise manner of a Sunha. Moreover, she was surprised by the girl’s previous knowledge. Only a little surprised, but still surprised. Granted, it was riddled with inaccuracies like weevils in two-month-old bread. What was more amusing was that the falsities were often less grand than the actual truth of Farhaven. She would have stopped long ago, but the girl’s ravenous hunger for knowledge, and the way she soaked it in like a Suntha Sponge, was fascinating. Her light blue eyes grew with every word. She seemed to retain all the information as well—a harsh grilling had ensured that.
The girl was born on the wrong side of the Gates, surely.

Ayva opened her mouth.

“Enough,” Faye said at last. “That shall do for now, Diaon.”

Ayva looked disappointed, but luckily for her she nodded. “Yes, Sunha…” and then, “Thank you.”

Faye hid her surprise, eyeing the girl as she swayed in the cormac’s saddle. Ayva wore her typical pleated gray riding skirts. Her answer was docile, but nothing about her features looked soft. In only a few days, the girl had grown harder and wiser. Faye would have to be careful of her, but she found herself nodding in approval. Then, immediately, Faye grimaced inwardly.
She’s still just a foolish girl,
she thought forcefully.

An oasis sat ahead. It was little more than a pool of water and several trees—a mockery of even the smallest Node, she thought. The two young men had already dismounted.
Gray knelt beside Darius at the water’s edge, chatting.

She approached.

“Do you think it’s still watching us?” Darius was asking.

Gray shrugged. “I’m not sure… I haven’t felt it since Faye arrived. Perhaps…”

Darius cleared his throat loudly, indicating her approach.
Watching us?
The thought made her think of her prey. She couldn’t forget that was her main goal, but for now, she had other snakes to skin. Gray quieted. Calmly, he washed his face with the warm water and looked up.

“Your turn,” Faye told him, nodding to the magnificent sword at his side. She wished she could touch it but remembered the horrifying agony it had given her last time. She didn’t make the same mistake twice, especially not one as painful as that.

“You look exhausted,” he said, eyeing her. “We can wait if…”

She chuckled, but it held no mirth. “Underestimating your opponent is a bad place to start when learning
si’tu’ah
,
apprentice
.” Faye emphasized the last word and looked to Gray’s sword again that rested in the sand. “Pick that up.” There was a clear threat in her voice. Darius rocked back, and she knew Ayva must have been sending her daggers.

“Or?” Gray questioned.

“You still do not trust me, do you? What do you expect me to say? That I will cut you down where you kneel?” She laughed and this time she
was
amused. “No, Gray, I don’t need to threaten you with violence. Farbs and the Citadel will do that for me. I am no easy foe, but I am nothing compared to a hundred Devari, and a keep full of deadly Reavers, and to top it off, several Arbiters—more legend and myth than actual living beings. If you wish to live, you must learn. If not, then die. It makes no difference to me.”

With that, she walked away without waiting.

Gray’s eyes narrowed, and then he grabbed Morrowil and rose. “So be it.”

* * *

Flipping back her scarlet hair, Faye circled Gray, appraising him. He stood silently, waiting. “You are too aggressive. Too wild. You need control. Devari are masters of their bodies and their environments, in perfect harmony with everything, including their enemies. Like a horse, you chomp at the bit, but you must accept it. Without having balance, you will die.”

The words sounded familiar. Control. He thought he had control. His grip tightened on the blade in his hand, feeling its smooth hilt. Control over Morrowil perhaps, but what she suggested was different. Now he needed control over his own body. And yet… He reached, feeling for the nexus, and felt his gut lurch. It sat, waiting, but just like last time, a part was missing as if a sickness was eating away at the swirling ball of air. He lifted his hand, summoning it. He waited to see eddies of wind swirl around his palm but there was nothing. It was like reaching for a handhold and falling upon his face. His power
was
there, he knew, but he just couldn’t touch it. How do I bridge that gap? He tried to imagine filling the gap in the nexus, as if patching a hole in a leaking boat, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he turned his attention back to Faye.

“You’re right,” he said simply.

Nearby, Darius lounged back on his elbows and Ayva sat cross-legged, watching. Somehow he was afraid to have them watch—why was that? He’d faced the Kage, Saeroks, Vergs and dragons with them at his side… Why was fighting Faye making his palms sweat?

“Of course I am,” she snorted from behind him, still circling. “You attack wildly, attempting to make up for the gaps in your training.”

“Then help me fill in those gaps,” he voiced, hoping it sounded like less of an order and more of a plea. Abruptly, he felt a slight break of wind from behind him and he twisted, lifting Morrowil in the nick of time as her blade crashed down upon him. Metal rung.

Faye squinted. “How do you sense my movement? Can you hear me?”

Gray shook his head. “It’s the wind.”

“I thought your power was gone?”

He felt his skin prick. “How did you…” Ayva and Darius watched, but she had said it so that only he had heard.

The pressure of her blade spiked and she leapt back, skidding along the sand. Her head rose. “This is your first lesson. You must sense the emotions of others, when fighting or merely talking, and then read what they are hiding and what they are intentionally exposing. Then, take both and use it against them. That is
si’tu’ah
. Your blade and mind must be one.”

“You are a fearsome opponent.”

Faye laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied and attacked.

Gray raised his sword, but the slice to his head was a feint. She took her blade across sideways towards his torso, spinning. Morrowil flashed, parrying. But her foot extended as she spun, hitting his feet, and he stumbled, falling onto his rear. Dust puffed into the air, and when it cleared, her sword sat before his eyes, wavering, ready to strike.

“I learned that from another, a tribe of warriors,” she explained. “
That
is
si’tu’ah
as well. Take what your opponents teach you and use it against them. Everything in fighting is a lesson, but you must have ears that listen, eyes that see, and a mind that adapts,” she said, tapping her temple. Her curved blade still hung before his eyes, its steel point reflecting the bright sun into his eyes.

Gray cleared his throat, eyeing the blade.

Faye grumbled and grudgingly dropped it, extending a gloved hand.

As she did, he grabbed it, put a foot underneath him for weight, and swept his other foot in a smooth arc. Faye, however, saw it coming and pulled away, but he gripped her hand tighter, tugging her in. As he swiped her legs from beneath her, she fell hard onto her rear. “Am I learning?” he asked, rising.

Faye looked up at him from upon the ground, and he thought she was hiding a smile, but he couldn’t tell. Suddenly, she rolled, grabbed a fistful of sand, and threw it at him, clouding the air. Gray coughed, and something flickered in his mind. A small gust cleared the sand from the air. In its place, was Faye, both blades raised. Something popped into Gray’s mind. It felt ancient, yet new.
Monk pushes the Darkness
—gripping Morrowil in one hand, he parried her sword to the side. But her dagger darted towards his throat. He slipped it, slightly, and used his forearm to smack her other arm aside. The weight of his strike made Faye stumble forward. Without slowing, he brought his hand up to his ear and chopped towards Faye’s throat. He stopped, pulling the blow in the last second. Her eyes were wide, staring into his.

He tried to hide a toothy smile of his own.

“You
are
learning,” she said. “I’ve never seen that form. Where did you…?”

“Another life,” he replied.

“Impressive,” she said, but she didn’t look impressed with her red ringlets curling around her smug face. She sounded as impressed as if the sun had decided to rise in the morning. “But you must not always rely on your forms.”

Gray nodded. “I’ve heard as much before, but it’s hard.” Mura had told him that… Thoughts of the hermit made his heart clench, but he stuffed them down. Knowing Mura was safer with Karil than with him was a comfort, a small one, but a comfort nonetheless.

“Then whoever told you was wise. Forms are but a tool. They will work sometimes, but other times you must simply give into instinct. Besides, all things have flaws…” she said and gestured with her eyes downwards. Something tapped his thigh. Between his legs, he saw Faye’s blade.

He swallowed. “But I still won. My attack is more deadly,” he insisted.

“Interesting opinion,” she remarked, “I doubt all men would see it the same. But who was quicker?” she asked and Gray realized he hadn’t seen her blade at all. “Ask yourself, if I was, would yours even hit? And is it a risk you’d be willing to take again?”

Gray growled, pressing back. He leapt at her, flowing from form to form, faster and faster, more and more aggressive.
Vixen’s Revenge.
He blocked upwards, and then struck down. She parried easily.

Faye held his parry and barked, “You are stronger than this. Show me!”

She thrust his sword away and chopped from both sides.
The Breeze Flows East.
He ducked, rolling to the side. When he looked up, she was there.
So fast!
He dipped his head again, but her dagger clipped his ear. He snarled, shoving down the pain, and launched into a series of attacks, blade crashing down upon her, using all his strength. Steel met steel, ringing into the open desert, but she seemed unaffected. He continued to hammer down, and she flowed backward, blade meeting his at every angle.

She leapt back and aimed her sword at him. “Your weakness is not in your muscles, Gray,” she stated. “This is your next lesson: you were limited by Daerval, but you are limited no longer. You must give in to your powers and to the magic of Farhaven. We are all made of the elements around us. Give into those elements. Let them give you strength.”