Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (60 page)

Again, his attention turned to the lush backyard.

The dry heat already sucked all moisture from his mouth, yet the glade reminded him vaguely of the Nodes.
Perhaps magic sustains this place?
He sat down on a low stonewall that encircled the glade, needing to think about what was coming.

His hand touched the book in his lap, and he felt strength radiate across his palm. Curious, Gray looked down and saw the book was
glowing
as if alive. Cautiously, he peeled back the thick cover and the warm yellow glow washed across his skin.

“What in the…” he breathed.

Suddenly the words upon the page, once strange and unreadable, were now shifted before his eyes, their lines making sense bit by bit until… He understood it. All of it. And he read.

189 D.L.

Upon these pages are the events succeeding what many have deemed the Final Age—an age that has been shattered by The Betrayal, that of the stolen blade. The ill-famed deed that caused the end of the Everlasting Peace and ushered in our age, nearly leaving the world a ruined heath, an age known by one name only now.

The Lieon.

In the following pages are the accounts of the great war of the Lieon, and of the shattered peace between the nine Great Kingdoms, but mostly here are the stories of the righteous that fought against an unfathomable darkness.

In these pages held by magic, herein lies the true tales of the Ronin…

Yet as the words formed, mouthed upon Gray’s lips, the golden glowing letters upon the page took shape, forming a picture that filled his mind, stealing his sight.

He saw a world beautiful and resplendent. Brief flashes of nine grand cities. Scarlet and silver flower petals rained from the air upon cities filled with wealth and prosperity—men, women, and children joyously filling the streets. The Great Kingdom of Water, its grand falls feeding a tiered city of splendor. Moon, a buried gem of a city with thousands of arched tunnels and waterways cast in ever-present sea foam light. Leaf, the Elvin sanctuary full of life and green light, a city suspended in the towering trees. Stone, its walls thicker than buildings and hidden away in a towering field of boulders. Metal, a heaping mass of steel with walls backed against the Mountains of Soot and forges that burn endlessly, the Deep Mines burrowing to the core of the world. Flesh, a sprawling city swarming with life, man, woman, and beast worked to the bone. Wind, a magnificent bastion of spiraling towers, walkways and parapets situated on the windy, impossibly high cliffs of Ren Nar that overlooked the world.
Then he saw a glimpse of a familiar city.
Farbs
. The Great Kingdom of Fire. The desert city was twice the size—and each building was not clay, but gilded in gold and greenery. Trees littered all the land, each flowing with pure silver veins. He saw creatures, thousands of them, things he couldn’t put a name to, living in the lands, in the bountiful forests, in the rushing rivers that glimmered translucent blue.
The Final Age.

Flash.

He saw a city of light. The Great Kingdom of Sun. Suddenly he was inside, and he saw a magnificent sword mounted upon a wall in the center of a grand hall. It was guarded by rows upon rows of ironclad warriors, their faces grim as death. Gray saw hidden traps as well, hundreds of them—poison-tipped arrows and countless wards of magic. But his gaze was only for the blade of light. The sword glowed golden—like a sun had been set within the folds of its brilliant metal. It was slender, tip curved, blade straight, and handle arched. Gray marveled at it. It was more a graceful work of art than a blade, but he could sense it was equally deadly. He felt a stab of pain. Suddenly, it was gone.
Stolen,
he knew. The kingdom was in an uproar, the world on edge, looking for the one to blame. War was coming…
The Betrayal.

Flash.

Next he saw war and bloodshed, corpses stacked upon corpses, so much that he shut his eyes, waiting for it all to stop, but still it came. At last, it ended.
The Lieon.

Flash.

Then finally, an image came to him.

Nine figures standing upon a rolling green hill.

Cloaks wavering in the winds, each showed the varying symbols of the Great Kingdoms. Gray saw Kail, his red eyes flashing. Each looked the very definition of a legend. Their swords were unsheathed, the color of the blades mimicking their powers, blazing in the morning light as they stood before an army of darkness.

And—

“Mind if I join you?”

The images shattered, and Gray returned back to the world. He turned and saw Zane and snapped the book shut, severing the connection completely. In the dusky light, the fiery man held a bowl filled with a variety of odd-looking fruits. He held the bowl out, and Gray took a few berries, hiding his uncertainty at the weird green dots upon the vivid red skin.

“Gladly,” he said, glad for Zane’s presence and a distraction from his thoughts.

Zane plopped down at Gray’s side and looked ahead, copper eyes squinting at the purple and red striated clouds, as if seeing it all for the first time. “How was your conversation?”

“Good, and yet…”

Zane looked over, curious. Gray didn’t know how to explain it. He looked up at the window above, knowing Meira and Ezrah and the others were discussing dark plans about Sithel and the Citadel, and preparing for war.

Ezrah. His grandfather.

“I have family finally. I’m not sure how to even react.”

“Happy?” Zane asked. “That’d be a start.”

Gray laughed. “You’re right. There’s still so much I want to know. The man knew who I once was…” As he said the words, he paused.
Wasn’t it just recently that I didn’t care about that? Who I am now is what matters.

But who am I now?
he wondered. Was such a thing so simple?

The book felt warm beneath his palm still.

A Ronin.

Excitement and fear swirled inside him. It was a name that many dreaded, but to Gray, for as long as he could remember,
Ronin
was a name of burning intrigue. And now he was one of them, and not just one, but Kail’s progeny—the strongest Ronin. A shiver traced his spine at the thought of such power and responsibility. He lifted his hand, but the nexus flickered in his mind—its flaw glaring. He set it aside.

No, Gray knew his potential, but he was not there. Aside from feeling broken, he feared Kail’s legacy. To go insane, to become the dark traitor. He had seen the man. In the end, Kail’s motives had been true and good, yet how much did he really know of Kail? All the Ronin had feared him. But what had they feared? How many had known the truth? In the end, Kail had saved the world, but Gray had seen the man’s red eyes. They had been filled with power
and
darkness. He knew Morrowil was part of the cause, spawning some of Kail’s evil. The blade had nearly conquered Gray as well before he realized that the sword merely manifested the darkness inside him. He could not fall victim to Kail’s same dark fears and desires lest Morrowil take control and feed upon it, just as it fed upon his light. But was there more? What had Kail done? Gray’s hand gripped the book tighter, fingers curling around its thick, worn spine realizing that perhaps the answers were closer than he ever imagined. In the end, he was the most powerful Ronin, or at least had that potential inside him. But was that a grand gift or a terrible curse? Or
both?

In the rare stories that told of Kail’s heroism, painting him in an uncommon, favored light, they had blamed his darkness upon the death of those he loved. How much had been laid upon the legend? And worse yet, how much would be burdened upon him? Could he stand the weight of what was to come? He took a deep breath, stopping his trailing questions.

“We can only follow the path before us, until another is revealed.”

It was Reaver Ethelwin’s words from earlier.

Mura would say much the same.
“Find answers first, think about the questions later.”
Gray focused his thoughts, knowing what he had to do.
He needed to know what being a Ronin meant, and the book would tell him.

“Well, you’re still alive,” Zane declared, pulling Gray from his reflections. The fiery man popped a plump berry into his mouth. Then he laughed. “So it seems Arbiters aren’t the feared legends the stories say they are. Truth be told, I’m almost a little disappointed.” He laughed again with a shake of his head as Gray grabbed another berry. “After all I heard, they almost sounded like the dreaded Ronin.”

Gray choked on the berry.

“You all right?” Zane asked, slapping him on the back.

He coughed, clearing his throat. Nearby, two one-stripe male Reavers passed by, talking in hushed tones, moving through the enclosed yard with several servants trailing them. It reminded Gray. “Did you see the Reaver on the stairs?”

Zane grabbed his rusted dagger and began shaving a gnarled root, the black shavings falling to the grass, revealing bright pink pulp.
Is everything in Farhaven so strange looking?
Gray wondered. “The one that looked like the walking dead? I saw him,” Zane said offhandedly. “He doesn’t talk. Reaver Dimitri. Another told me he lost his brother saving Ezrah.”

Gray looked ahead as the boughs swished from a breeze. “We paid a steep price to save Ezrah.”

“Great things are not done without sacrifice,” Zane said.

“Wise words,” he replied, lifting a brow.

“Not mine,” the man said. “Another I once considered as close as blood. Father.”

Gray nodded, and vowed to remember the sacrifices. Again, his throat clenched thinking of Victasys.

Zane spoke. “I can understand his pain. If I ever lost Hannah…” Rage wormed its way into his voice. He stabbed his dagger into a fuzzy, bulbous piece of fruit.

Hannah.
That made Gray think of Ayva and Darius. How long had it been? They were all right, weren’t they? Faye would see them safe. But they should have saved Hannah by now, shouldn’t they? He saw Zane’s concerned features, the angst growing on his tanned face. He gripped the man’s tense arm. Zane looked to him, and Gray had trouble not flinching.

“Hannah is alive,” Gray said firmly.

The man’s expression didn’t shift. “How do you know?”

“Because I believe in them,” he said with equal fervor, “Darius and Ayva will not fail.”

Slowly, Zane’s gruff visage broke, and he nodded.

Gray breathed a hidden sigh. He was glad to see the man finally relax, if only a little. “We will just have to wait until they show up. But it won’t be long,” he added. “Meira has sent out others to search for them, and she positioned sentries nearby Faye’s house. There’s nothing to be done for it now but trust them and wait. They will return.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But waiting? I’ve never been known as the patient type.”

Gray suddenly rose and turned to Zane who was biting into a fruit, juice spilling around his mouth. The man looked up as Gray unsheathed Morrowil and pointed it at him.

“What’s this?” Zane asked, unfazed.

Gray smirked. “Care for a duel?”

“What’s a duel?”

“You know,
a duel
. It’s like practice fighting.”

Zane scratched his head. “What’s the pointing of fighting if it’s not for life or death?”

“My mind finds reprieve from troubled thoughts when I’m working the forms. A reprieve I think we both could use.” Zane’s mouth twisted, listening attentively. “Not to mention, it seems inevitable that a war is coming. If so, there are men like Jian that we will have to fight. I think it’s time we practice our skills so we are not dwarfed in power.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zane snapped.

“Do not deny the truth. You saw Jian’s strength as well as me.”

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,”
the fiery man retorted sharply.

Gray lifted a brow. “Then you think you can take him?”

Zane looked uncertain. “Perhaps training is not entirely unwise.”

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll teach you everything I know,” Gray said excitedly, “and you teach me all you know. Let’s train to be ready for whatever comes.” He stuck out his hand, and Zane looked at it hesitantly. “Then again, you can just mope about and grow fat until the others show up. It’s your choice.”

After a long moment, Zane gruffly wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Tossing the bowl of fruit on the ground, he rose, showing his intimidating stature. He was not exactly tall, but he was far more muscled than Gray. He rolled his heavy shoulders in a stretch and his thin lips curved, a fire in his eyes. “Everything you know? Sounds fun. That should take a good few minutes. But I suppose training is better than doing nothing, and I could use a small stretch, which is what this sounds like.”