City of Wind (Steel and Fire Book 4)

by Jordan Rivet

  A whooping sound came from nearby. They had drifted into the path of the young boys racing from the beach to the large rock. The swimmers churned through the water on either side of them, splashing and shouting. Dara and Siv broke off the kiss to wipe the water out of their eyes. Dara eased away from him a little and kicked steadily, imitating the racers’ movements. She still held Siv’s shoulders, but she thought she was starting to understand how this swimming thing worked. He moved slowly, letting her guide their progress as they swam together.

  “Not bad,” Siv said. “You’re a fast learner.”

  “Let’s hope I can learn something useful from Wyla in the next few months.”

  “You won’t be here for months if I can help it,” Siv said. Dara appreciated his conviction, but he couldn’t possibly break the Watermight bond Wyla had placed on her arm to seal their bargain. She’d have to convince him to return to Vertigon without her.

  The young swimmers reached the rock and lay on their backs or perched on the irregular outcroppings. The glitter of the afternoon sun on the water made it look as if the rock were rising out of a pool of molten silver.

  “Ho there,” one of the boys called as Dara and Siv swam nearer. “Did you hear the news from Trure?”

  “What news?” Siv called.

  “Everyone’s talking about it,” another boy said. “Them Soolens captured Rallion City.”

  Siv’s face went ashen. Fortunately, Dara was getting the hang of swimming, because she almost had to hold him up now. She squeezed his shoulders, bringing his attention back to their position. He met her eyes, mouth tense. When they had left Rallion City, his mother and sister had been staying in the royal palace with his grandfather, the king.

  They swam over to the rock where the group of boys gathered.

  “When did this happen?” Siv asked as he climbed up to join them.

  “A few days ago, I reckon,” said the first boy. He wore a scrap of cloth tied around his forehead, the orange hue identifying him as an errand boy for the Waterworker who owned the manor house by the beach. “That’s what the merchants are saying, anyway.”

  “Have you heard anything about the King of Trure or his family?” Siv asked.

  “Nope. Could be dead for all I know.”

  Dara shivered as a breeze blew across the gulf, chilling her damp clothes. Siv didn’t seem to notice.

  “Was there anything else?” he said, voice so soft, it was almost lost on the wind.

  “My father says the Soolens will come here next,” said the largest of the boys.

  “That’s stupid,” said the boy in orange. “The Waterworkers would drown ’em all.”

  The larger boy leapt to his feet, fists raised. “You calling my father stupid, Tel?”

  “Nah.” Tel didn’t even blink. “Why would they want this big pile of mud anyway?”

  “My father says the Soolens do all kinds of crazy things.” The larger boy lowered his fists. “They eat rocks and raw fish there, you know.”

  “I don’t know about eating rocks, but they took over Trure.” Tel straightened his orange bandana and cast an appraising eye over Siv. Shirtless, he was paler than the olive-skinned Pendarkans. He could easily pass for Truren. “Don’t they have a great-big army, with tons of horses and stuff?”

  “Trure has the finest cavalry on the continent,” Siv said. “No Soolen army should be able to defeat them.”

  “That’s what my father said!” shouted the larger boy.

  Siv looked back at Dara. She held his gaze steadily. She didn’t know as much about armies as he did, but she didn’t understand how the great Rallion City had fallen either.

  “It could be a rumor,” she said. “Let’s see if there’s any truth to it before you worry too much.”

  Siv thanked their informants and climbed back toward the waterline, taking Dara’s hand before slipping back into the water. The boys began to argue over whether or not you could die from eating raw fish as Dara and Siv swam toward the shore. She held onto his arm to help keep her head above water. He barely seemed to notice her weight as he tugged her along. He was far too quiet.

  When they reached shallow-enough water for Dara to stand, she released his arm and grabbed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

  “I’m sure Selivia and your mother are okay,” she said. “Even if Rallion City has been captured, Commander Brach wouldn’t hurt the royal family.”

  “He’d better not,” Siv said darkly.

  A shadow fell over them as they trudged through the shallows to where they’d left their weapons and shoes. Clouds began to creep into the afternoon sky. The weather changed so quickly here. It could be raining by suppertime.

  The city spread before them, a mix of houses on stilts, meandering canals, and rocky islands. Orange flags whipped in the wind, decorating many of the houses near the beach. The flags switched to burgundy around where a narrow jetty jutted out into the gulf. Pendark was still a mystery to Dara. She had three months to get to know it, but with the news from Siv’s grandfather’s kingdom, she couldn’t justify asking him to stay.

  “Siv, you should go—”

  “No,” Siv said. “I’m not leaving you. I can’t go back empty handed anyway. I need to gather men and resources if I’m going to be of any use to anyone.” He looked to the north as he put his sword belt on over damp trousers. “My grandfather must have sent them to safety long before the Soolens arrived.”

  Despite his words, the set of Siv’s jaw and his uncharacteristic frown showed that he wasn’t as certain as he sounded. He must feel conflicted about delaying his departure—even if he was doing it for her sake.

  “We’d better find out more details,” Dara said. “Maybe you can—”

  She stopped as an icy sensation crept through her sword arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it had nothing to do with the cold water drenching her shirt. There was no mistaking the unnatural chill. Watermight.

  “What’s wrong?” Siv asked.

  “It’s Wyla,” Dara said. She squeezed her sword arm, trying to get it to warm up. She was afraid to move it too much lest her bones crack.

  “She’s doing something to you?” Siv’s knife appeared in his hand—little use against this threat.

  “My arm just went all cold. Wait, it’s fading now.” She flexed her muscles gently, but the chill didn’t subside entirely.

  “Is that some sort of signal?”

  “Must be. I’d better go back to the manor just in case.”

  “Let me come with you,” Siv said. “I’d like to give that woman a signal.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Dara said quickly. “I don’t want her to get her claws in you.” She shook her arm. “There. The feeling is gone. She probably just wanted to remind me of our bargain.”

  “I don’t like this,” Siv said.

  “Me neither, but it’ll be okay.” Dara hurriedly gathered up the rest of her things. “I’ll be glad to get started, actually. I don’t like waiting and wondering.”

  “Just be careful.” Siv rested his hands on her sword arm for a moment, his touch as light as if her arm were made of spun sugar. “And let me know if you want me to storm the manor. I reckon the pen fighters would help.”

  “Don’t do anything foolish.” The cold sensation began to return, pulsing this time. “I’d better get back. See what you can find out about Rallion City.”

  The sooner she started working with Wyla, the better. The Watermight Artist studied magical substances. She could teach Dara something about the Fire that would be more useful for retaking their lost mountain than men and coin. The Soolens were a threat, but it was Dara’s father—and his power—that stood in their way. Despite everything he had done, she still wanted to find a way to stop him without killing him. Wyla could hold the key.

  2.

  The Lantern Maker

  QUEEN Soraline Amintelle hurtled down the spiral staircase. She hiked her skirt up to her knees to keep from tripping, flying down the steps as quickly a
s she could. Her ankle turned beneath her when she reached the ground floor of the castle. She ignored the twinge of pain and hurried toward the entrance hall.

  Her guards ran beside her, their boots thudding in time. Captain Thrashe was on her right, a hand on his saber and a scowl on his scarred, one-eyed face. Kelad Korran kept pace to her left, as relaxed as if he were out for a jog. Both of them were ready to fight, but it was Sora who would do battle today. She’d seen the conflict brewing from the window. She had to stop it before things got out of hand.

  She flung the doors open, not waiting for the guards to do it for her. Weak spring sunshine filled the courtyard. The cold bit into her instantly. She’d left her cloak back in the library. No time to delay.

  She hurried toward a group of five people in the barren courtyard. Rafe Ruminor, Lantern Maker and Chief Regent of Vertigon, stood tall at the center, unmoving. His very presence radiated tension like heat from a Fire Gate.

  Madame Pandan, a Metalworker from Square Peak, radiated actual heat. Her body quivered and blazed as she faced down the Lantern Maker. A grim Worker called Jara the Gilder stood by her side. He’d once been an ally of the Ruminors, but he too appeared to be holding Fire. Sora had learned to identify the signs, even though she couldn’t sense or touch the magic substance herself.

  Lima Ruminor and Master Corren flanked the Lantern Maker. Corren the Firespinner was a stocky man in a fine embroidered coat. He didn’t seem about to burst with Fire, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to Wield to defend Rafe. Lima’s face could have been carved from stone. She wore a permanent scowl these days, which spoiled her otherwise handsome features. Sora wouldn’t be surprised if Lima attacked Madame Pandan and Master Jara with her fists.

  An assortment of Castle Guards stood back from the Workers, none willing to get too close. Oat and Yuri, two of her loyal men, were among them. It wasn’t the first time they’d witnessed a confrontation between Fireworkers. They would be powerless if this kettle reached a boiling point.

  Sora skidded to a stop at the edge of the group, a stitch catching in her side. “What’s going on here?” she demanded. She didn’t step between the Workers. She made a point of appearing unafraid of the Fire, but she wasn’t stupid.

  “Jara and Madame Pandan were just leaving,” Lima said.

  “You cannot make us,” Madame Pandan hissed. Her hair was in disarray, and even her thick, expressive eyebrows looked wild. Sora hadn’t seen her since she escaped the huge surge of power at the Well the night of Sora’s eighteenth birthday. Madame Pandan had been the only Square Worker to survive the disaster. It looked as if she wasn’t coping well.

  “I will do what I must,” the Lantern Maker said softly.

  “Go ahead and threaten us,” Madame Pandan said. “Do violence like a Pendarkan animal.”

  “You are the only one advocating violence here,” Master Corren said. “What do you want?”

  Madame Pandan looked at Sora, and it was all she could do to keep from signaling for her to be quiet. Madame Pandan couldn’t give away their alliance. The Ruminors still didn’t know Sora had conspired against them with the Square Peak Workers. Sora had to get her out of here before she ruined everything.

  Madame Pandan turned back to the Lantern Maker. “We want you gone,” she said. “We will bring our Fire against you. You can’t contain it anymore. The Fire runs loose on the mountain. You cannot stop us.”

  She nodded at Jara, and their eyes blazed golden. The heat billowing off them intensified. They meant to attack the Lantern Maker right here in the castle courtyard! The spring snowdrifts melted away from them in an ever-widening ring.

  Sora struggled with indecision. She could let them try, let them eliminate the threat of the Lantern Maker once and for all. But if they lost, he would obliterate them—and take half the occupants of the courtyard with them.

  “Friends,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “Will you kindly join me for a cup of tea in the library? I’d like you to hear your complaints.”

  Master Corren glanced at her, and even Lima was momentarily distracted. The Lantern Maker kept his eyes on the two Workers. They still shivered and shimmered like burning brands. Were they going to do it?

  “Master Jara? Madame Pandan?” Sora said. “Won’t you come inside?”

  “We won’t stand for it anymore,” Madame Pandan said. “Daz was right. He is too dangerous. He has unleashed the Well. The Spring itself has been disturbed.” She met Sora’s eyes for an instant. “We didn’t know he’d go this far.”

  The second Madame Pandan’s attention left him, the Lantern Maker struck. A blast of Fire erupted between Rafe and the two Workers. Heat rushed outward, and a toe-curling scream split the air.

  Sora stumbled back, unable to withstand the burning, blinding onslaught. A hand on her shoulder steadied her. Kel. She blinked rapidly, trying to see through the white-hot blaze.

  At first she thought Rafe had shot something at his opponents, like a bolt of Fireworked lightning. But the Lantern Maker wasn’t shooting Fire at the two Workers. He was sucking it from them, somehow drawing a violent flood of power from their bodies.

  The two Workers linked hands. Sweat poured down their faces. Madame Pandan screamed louder. Her hands were bone-white, one gripping Jara’s hand, the other clenched in her skirt. They fought the Lantern Maker for their Fire, and it stretched like a cloth of gold between them.

  Sora didn’t dare speak. The Castle Guards retreated to the walls, except for Kel and Captain Thrashe at her back. Their steel would be of no use here. Even Lima looked afraid.

  For a moment, it appeared that Madame Pandan and Jara’s combined strength might keep the Lantern Maker from seizing their store of Fire. The Metalworker stopped screaming and bared her teeth in a vicious snarl. Then Rafe smiled. The heat swelled. More Fire rushed from the two Workers, straight to the Lantern Maker’s hands. His skin glowed. And still he drew in more power.

  As the Fire spewed from the Workers’ bodies, blood began to flow with it, as if Rafe was drawing away their very lives. Sora took a step toward them, hand outstretched. Madame Pandan crumpled to her knees. Jara’s grip was the only thing keeping her from collapsing entirely. Blood dripped from his nose, and he looked on the verge of fainting himself.

  “Enough!” Sora shouted. “Stop this!”

  The Lantern Maker glanced at her. If he had quivered with power before, now his body positively sang with it. He seemed to grow larger with the incredible quantity of energy roaring hot beneath his skin. Even Lima stepped away from him.

  Sora resisted the urge to run from those fiery eyes. “I’m sure we can resolve this like civilized people,” she said, voice faltering. “I don’t want Fire fights in my courtyard.”

  Rafe stared down at her. Could he even hear her? He was struggling. Had he tried to take in too much Fire at last? She held his gaze as he blazed like a sun. Madame Pandan whimpered. Jara sucked in raw, rasping breaths.

  “Master Ruminor,” Sora said, faking a calm she didn’t feel at all. “Can you hear me?”

  “Renna?”

  Sora blinked, not daring to look at Lima as Rafe said their long-deceased daughter’s name. “Master Ruminor, it’s me, Soraline. Please stop.”

  Rafe drew in a deep breath. At last, he lowered his hands.

  The two Workers collapsed. Sora nodded at Kel, and he hurried forward to check on them.

  “Master Ruminor?”

  Rafe flexed his hands as if trying to get the blood flowing again.

  When he finally spoke, his voice shook slightly, lacking its usual deep, rich quality. “Yes, Queen Soraline?”

  She swallowed. “I’d like to speak with you about the repair work in the library, if you please,” she said. “Then we must discuss the latest recruitment reports from General Pavorran.”

  “Reports. Of course, my queen.” Rafe turned and strode toward the castle, walking stiffly. Sora didn’t breathe until the doors fell shut behind him. She had been sure he was going to blast
her with the Fire. She had never seen the power overtake him like that. But there had been far more Fire flowing loose on the mountain since the accident at the Well. Rafe seemed to welcome the rampant outbursts, feed off them. He had almost looked pleased that Madame Pandan and Jara had come to challenge him.

  She turned back to the pair, but Kel was already standing up and shaking his head.

  “Are they dead?”

  “I’m sorry, my queen. I can’t rouse them.”

  Sora slumped. She had been too late after all. They had few allies left. Most of Madame Pandan’s friends had died alongside Daz Stoneburner at the Well. She’d managed to recruit Jara the Gilder—all for nothing.

  “Send for someone to carry them home.”

  “Yes, my queen.”

  She turned to Lima and Corren. Neither of them had followed Rafe into the castle. They seemed to be waiting for her instructions.

  “What was all this about?”

  “Madame Pandan is unbalanced,” Lima said. “We think she was one of the traitors behind the surge.”

  “She’s been punished enough,” Master Corren said. He watched the Castle Guards carry the two Workers away, looking slightly sick.

  “Madame Pandan isn’t the only one struggling with balance,” Sora said. “Master Ruminor nearly lost control.”

  Lima’s mouth tightened. “It’s good for him to have other tasks,” she said. “Reports. That was wise.”

  “Uh . . . thank you.” Sora thought she might crumple like Madame Pandan. Did Lima Ruminor just compliment her wisdom?

  “That could have been worse than it was, my queen,” Master Corren said. “You kept your head admirably.” He nudged Lima and nodded pointedly in Sora’s direction.

  Lima drew in a short breath, her shoulders stiffening. “We . . . I think you are containing the situation well. The aftermath of the recent surge was not as bad as it could have been thanks to you.”