Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (24 page)

She beamed and asked, “What was your dream?”

“My dream?” he repeated, looking around. The camp had been packed up and even Mirkal waited, prancing his hooves, excited to move. A lie ran through his head.
A serving girl had just given me a big portion of mutton and…
He stopped his mind. “It was nothing.”

“No?”

Gray tossed him something and Darius caught it. “What’s all this?”

“Your clothes,” Gray answered.

Darius held up a shirt that was a green so bright it hurt his eyes. “Where did you get this?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Gray answered.

“So you decided to become a seamstress?” he questioned.

Ayva was practically bouncing on her toes, pawing at her newfound clothes. “If so, then it’s safe to say he’s one talented spinster. They’re perfect… ” A dreamy light entered her eyes, that faraway look she got sometimes, which Darius was growing oddly fond of as she whispered, more to herself, “It’s just like I always imagined.”

She
did
look great in it, and…
No.
Darius shook his head. Something wasn’t right. “You stole these, didn’t you?” he asked Gray sharply.

Gray nodded
.
“For once, you’re right.”

Darius scrubbed his chin, looking to Ayva. “And you’re all right with this?”

Ayva blushed. “Well, I’m not exactly
happy
about it. But what’s done is done, and it was necessary.”

He grimaced.
Necessary…
Darius hesitated. Though Gray looked eager and almost impatient, there were dark circles around his eyes. “What has gotten into you? You look exhausted. And this was risky. What if you had gotten caught? You’ve become an increasing fool lately and…” he silenced himself, realizing there was heat in his voice. Why was he angry? He was thinking too much. This act was exactly something he would have done at one time not long ago. He turned away.

He felt a hand upon his arm and saw Gray’s smile. “You’re right, Darius. It was foolish and reckless, and I should have consulted you two first. Of course, I fear we will have to do more of these acts if we are to succeed in Farbs, but this was necessary.”

“What happened?” Darius questioned, seeing through his words.

Ayva raised a brow. “What do you mean? Gray has simply found a way in.”

He shook his head. “No, Darius is right. Something has happened, and I have to tell you about it. Both of you. Please sit,” he said, motioning to the ground.

“I’m fine standing,” Darius said.

Ayva raised a brow at him but quietly sat. “What happened?”

Gray took an even breath and spoke, “Last night, I had a dream. But it was more than just a dream. It was a vision,” he said and pulled from his pocket what appeared to be dust as if ground from stone. “This was a shattered pendant I’d carried until yesterday. When I awoke, it was simply dust. Before it was turned to dust, it held magic, and through it I received a message.”

“What kind of message?” Ayva asked.

“A man spoke to me. As he spoke, my past spoke as well.”

Unexpectedly, Ayva tensed.
Fear?
What is she afraid of?
Darius wondered. “You remember your past?” Ayva asked with trepidation.

Gray shook his head. “No, not yet. But I remember this man.”

“Who is he?” Darius questioned.

“His name is Ezrah. He’s my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather?” Ayva repeated, “That’s… I can’t believe it! I’m so happy for you, Gray!”

Gray smiled, but then a dark look came over his features like a shadow. “I wish that were all… Ezrah is being held captive. I saw an image of a room and eight wielders of the spark torturing him for information as we speak.”

Horrified, Ayva put a hand over her mouth.

Silence settled and Darius strode forward and gripped his arm. “I’m sorry for questioning you. I should have known you would only take such risks out of dire need.”

“You were right to question,” Gray said. “I would have done the same. But I know now what I have to do.”

“And I’m with you.”

“Right,” Ayva agreed, “But what’s our plan? How do we get him back?”

“That’s the thing… I figured out our entry into Farbs after stealing these from a clothesline at the border of the outer city last night, but I still don’t know where Ezrah is located.”

“What did the room look like?” Darius asked. Gray described it in detail and he nodded. “That’s enough information for me. Let’s get a move on.” Quickly, he changed into the green clothes.
Why does it have to be green?
he thought with a grimace.
Why not black or even a drab white?
He hated green. Well, his cloak was different, but at least that was fine, dark green wool and not this silly bright stuff. Darius moved to his cormac, grabbing his sword.

Ayva raised a hand. “Just wait a moment, Darius!”

“What?” he asked, leaping upon Mirkal.

“What are you thinking?” Gray asked hesitantly.

Upon his steed, Darius smirked. “Get us inside the gates, Gray, and I will find out where your grandfather is held. I can’t promise we’ll get to him in time, but if this city looks anything like I anticipate, it’ll be full of thieves’ dens and shady inns—a ripe fruit for the picking when it comes to information,” he said, spinning upon Mirkal, feeding off the beast’s excited energy, or perhaps it was feeding off of him. “Well, are you ready?”

Both Ayva and Gray looked dumbfounded.

“Trust me,” he said, holding Gray’s gaze.

Gray nodded at last, taking to his mount.

Ayva grumbled something and then threw up her hands. “Well, no use arguing,” she said and leapt upon her cormac smoothly. “Lead the way, fearless leader,” she said sarcastically.

Darius made an overly elegant bow and looked ahead.

To Farbs.

* * *

After several hours of riding, they neared the city. Though Farbs had looked huge and near, Darius had realized it was deceptive. It was further away than he’d imagined, and, as a result, far larger.

They approached, entering the outer city and, despite the warm air, a chill entered Darius, as if diving into a frozen lake. Behind him, Ayva and Gray rode, watching their surroundings.
What has gotten into me?
he thought,
I’m parading around like some sort of fool hero. That’s supposed to be Gray’s job.

As soon as they passed the first few blue and green tents he realized their mistake. Men and women stared at them, eyeing their Elvin steeds as if gazing upon royalty.

“They aren’t used to the cormacs,” Gray whispered. “Perhaps we can stable the animals once we get inside the gates.”

Darius gave a subtle nod. “Good idea. The less eyes on us, the better.” They were surrounded by life, hundreds of eyes making him itch in his clothes. A hawker shouted to them as they passed, selling shriveled roots on a long table. A group of men talked in a circle beneath the shade of a large, orange awning. In the next square, a statue poured water from its six mouths, and crowds gathered to fill buckets and urns to the brim. One woman, oddly enough, passed them while balancing a pitcher upon her head. People came and went, dressed in colorful clothes. Soon, Darius realized his silly green clothes were in fact the norm. Twice he saw a man with green robes even
brighter
than his. Women wore light vests like Ayva’s, but none quite so flashy and of such fine material. Well, if anyone could pretend to be a noble, it was her. Even Gray’s white vest with dark leather lacing and gray pants were common too, just less so than Darius’ attire.
Good, let me be the most normal one for once,
he thought.

Abruptly, a cluster of men with shaven heads walked before him as if blind. He pulled hard on his reins to avoid trampling them and almost cursed when Ayva touched his arm. “Sons of the Flesh,” she explained, sidling her beast closer. “They are from the city of Covai, the Great Kingdom of Flesh. Best not to upset them.”

Darius realized they all had the same brown and white robes that were dirty from travel. In their hands, they held coarse ropes that they wound and unwound around their fists as they muttered to themselves in a deep hum, walking through the crowds.

“What are they mumbling about? And what’s with the ropes?” he asked, watching as the crowds avoided them like the moldy onion in a once-tasty soup.

“It is a chant, a prayer to their god, and the ropes inflict pain,” she said.

“Why?” Gray asked.

“I’m not sure of all the reasons, but Faye said it is a gesture of piety. They believe life is pain and that one must embrace it. It helps remind them of their mortality. Oh, and they say it reminds them to resist the temptations of the flesh.” Darius scoffed at that.
Life is meant to be embraced, reveled in even, not resisted.
Ayva continued, “In every city, they roam, converting those who wish to join their path, simply called
The Way
. They are the largest spiritual sect in all of Covai, and perhaps all of Farhaven.”

“Are they dangerous?” Gray asked softly.

“Faye said only to avoid them. They are nothing to fear if you stay out of their way, but those who interfere find themselves in a whole heap of trouble.”

They pressed forward with Darius leading the way. All the while, he wished they could avoid the looks their steeds brought them, but at least the people of Farbs were more or less accustomed to such oddities. By their looks, cormacs were obviously rare, but not unheard of. Still, he pulled his green cloak around him and sunk deeper into his cowl.

Ayva and Gray pulled closer as a dozen or so guards neared upon tall steeds. They wore chainmail and plate, and Darius squinted from the reflecting sun. In their hands were long halberds or colorful pikes.
Colored weapons?
Darius scoffed and then remembered the green sword upon his back.
Well,
that’s
different,
he thought. The guards barely cast them a second glance as they rode by, their armor clanking as they headed into the desert.

Eventually the three of them approached the tall, tan-colored gates. The flow of people increased like tributaries joining a larger river. They found themselves in a main thoroughfare that was wide enough for ten carts to move side by side. On the edges, fewer tents and more buildings had been constructed, seeming more and more like a real city.

He felt strangely invigorated as they rode, as if he
hadn’t
slept upon the hard ground. No, he felt alive. It was magic he realized and shivered. It was like that sometimes. Though he’d never tell the others, a part of him was excited. He wanted to help Gray, and he couldn’t wait to see what would unfold once they entered Farbs.

The giant gates sat ahead, wide open. The crowds swelled, moving towards them, and Darius felt as if he were caught in a wind tunnel, being pulled in.

Most of the people traveled on foot, looking dirtied and worn—there were so many of them.
What has happened?
Darius wondered. It almost reminded him of Lakewood’s survivors. He sighed upon remembering that, glad to know the villagers were safe at long last.

“What’s going on?” Ayva asked. “These people… They look displaced. As if we just missed a war.”

Gray looked equally confused.

Darius touched the shoulder of a man who walked at Mirkal’s side. The man looked up, startled. “Greetings. The name is Darius. Where are you all coming from?” he asked bluntly. Well, he was one for subtlety
sometimes
.

The man’s round eyes looked at him nervously, as if confused why he was talking to him. Darius took in the man’s tattered blue clothes. They were wide around the collar, cuff, and sleeves. It was a fashion stranger than even his own green garments. Yet he noticed embroidery and a heavy gold stone around the man’s neck. And of course, the way his nose stuck in the air like he’d just wafted some bad cheese.
Nobility?
he wondered.

“I’m Jurad. I hail from Sevia,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been meaning to get a new shirt, and I just admired the cut of yours. Is it…”

“The finest cut of Sevia silk, from the Duvai provinces, of course,” Jurad huffed, and then smiled. “You’ve a fine eye for cloth.”

“Why thank you. I pride myself on it,” Darius lied. “I’ve always said, ‘even the lightest piece of Sevia silk is worth the fattest piece of gold’.” The words sounded sour and false on his tongue, but he spoke smoothly. He felt Ayva and Gray, the heat of their gaze on his back.

Jurad bobbed his head, looking pleased. “That heartens my soul.” Then his sun-tanned nose wrinkled in disgust. “Too many young men nowadays can’t tell a fine piece of brocade from a swatch of beggar’s woolens! Of course, I don’t have to tell
you
that Sevia silk is the finest silk in all of Farhaven, and Duvai is…” The man hesitated. “Wait a moment. Farbian garb, but light skin, and Elvin mounts… I’ve never seen humans quite like you. You three… are you… are you from Eldas?”