City of Wind (Steel and Fire Book 4)

by Jordan Rivet

  “Just a minute.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his cheek against hers. “Let’s just enjoy the peace and quiet. I’ve missed you.”

  Dara leaned back against his chest, breathing him in along with the salt wind off the gulf.

  “I missed you too.”

  “Has Wyla been making you fight?” he asked. “I’ve been worried.”

  “I’m learning Watermight combat from Siln,” she said. “I still have a way to go before I’ll be really dangerous.”

  “Have you tried using Fire against any of the Waterworkers?”

  “No. As soon as I ran out, I’d be vulnerable. I’m no match for them with the Watermight yet. It would be like a beginning duelist throwing a rock at a champion swordsman and then trying to duel them immediately after making them mad.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’m making progress, though. I should be able to hold my own after a few more months of practice.”

  “I don’t think we can wait a few months,” Siv said.

  “Wyla won’t change her mind,” Dara said. She held tight to Siv’s arms around her, wishing they could have gone a little longer without discussing Wyla. “Especially with everything going on in the city.”

  “I have a better plan,” Siv said. “Khrillin can help break your bond.”

  “The Waterlord?” Dara stiffened. “You told him about me?”

  “He reckons Wyla’s bargains are tough to unravel, but he’s willing to give it a go with enough research.”

  “At what cost?”

  “I saved his hide, didn’t I? And we’re working together.”

  “So I hear.” Dara pulled away and turned to face him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re a known ally of the Waterlord. Wyla already knows you’re connected to him, and I’m connected to you. She’s going to be angry when she finds out you told him about our bargain.”

  “You’ll be free by then.”

  “Wyla won’t be defeated that easily,” Dara said. “You might have just gotten me killed. Why didn’t you talk to me before going to Khrillin?”

  “I’m not even allowed to see you.” Siv kicked a boot through the broken glass on the floor. Then he caught her hand in his. “I told you I would find a way to get you away from Wyla.”

  “I didn’t think you’d share my secrets with one of her biggest enemies.”

  “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Get the cullmoran to eat the povvercat.”

  Dara pulled her hand out of Siv’s grasp. “How do you know Khrillin is the cullmoran?”

  “He’s the only Waterworker I’ve got,” Siv said. “I’m not saying I trust him completely, but if he’s going to fund my attack force, I reckon it’s not too much to ask him to free my lover first.”

  “You don’t understand. Wyla does things no other Waterworker can do. She’s an experimenter. An inventor.”

  “He mentioned something about that.”

  “And Wyla has been experimenting with me and my abilities in a way that no other magical practitioner has, as far as I know.”

  “So what?”

  “So I’m unique.” Dara paced across the tower. “What I can do is unique—at least for the moment. And it’s supposed to be secret. If the Waterlord finds out I’m a Fireworker who can wield Watermight too—which he will as soon as we step foot in Vertigon—I could become more valuable to him than even you are. You shouldn’t have told him a single thing about me.”

  Siv threw up his arms. “What choice did I have? Wyla has you fighting her little war. She won’t let you go. I can’t wield magic against her, but I had to try something.”

  Dara stomped back and forth across the small space, considering the best way to handle this. How much did the Waterlord guess already? If word got out that he knew about her bond, Wyla would assume Dara had conspired with him. It would be worse if he tried to break the link on her arm—and failed. She didn’t know enough about the Waterlord or his abilities to trust him to try. If the attempt didn’t kill her, Wyla would.

  Besides, she was unique. Through what seemed to be a fluke of circumstance, she was learning to do something no magic wielder in living memory had done. Dara wanted to learn more from Wyla. She still hadn’t managed to wield the two powers together, but she was determined to reach that elusive goal. She could rise above every Fireworker and Waterworker on the continent, more powerful than all of them. She couldn’t just walk away.

  “You have to tell Khrillin to leave me alone.”

  “She’ll never let you go, Dara,” Siv said. “Don’t you see?”

  “And what if I don’t want to go back to Vertigon?” Dara snapped. She turned to face Siv, standing in the center of the tower beneath the conjured Fire Lantern. “That’s your fight. I told you a long time ago that I didn’t want to kill my own parents.”

  Siv stared at her as if she’d slapped him.

  “It’s not just my fight.”

  “It’s your kingdom.”

  “It’s not about the crown anymore,” Siv said. “I have to tell you my news. Your father led a force of Fireworkers off the mountain. They’re attacking the Soolen and Truren armies—with Fire Weapons.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Fire Weapons. Dara had seen enough fights between Waterworkers to imagine what that would be like. Fire clinging like water, melting everything it touched. Hot metal spinning out of control. Men roasting in their boots. Cities burning to ash. She remembered what Siln had said about the full potential of the Fire, the danger and destruction it could unleash. In her father’s hands, the Fire could raze the world.

  She looked up at Siv. “I can’t stop an army of Fireworkers.”

  He took a step toward her. “But you might be able to stop their leader.”

  “He’s my father.”

  “Exactly.” Another step. “You can’t wash your hands of your parents, Dara. It’ll eat away at you for the rest of your life. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Dara shook her head. “My skills—”

  “You’re better than them,” Siv said. “I know you are. You can do it.”

  His confidence made her heart creak painfully. He truly believed it. He couldn’t know how inadequate her Wielding abilities were. She still had so much to learn.

  “I can do something unique,” Dara said gently, “but it’s not the same as being better than them. The Fireworkers of Vertigon have years of experience. The only thing that makes me special is the Watermight, and I can’t use that unless the fighting comes a lot farther south.”

  “Right. That.” Siv frowned and scratched at his short beard. He seemed to be struggling with something. Was there more to the information? Had he planned to tell her something else tonight?

  He rolled his shoulders as if adjusting something heavy. “Please, will you at least come with me to see Khrillin? We don’t have much time.”

  Conflicting emotions pulled at her like a mighty current. She wanted to stop her parents. Their ambitions could destroy Vertigon—and the Lands Below. Did her father really wish to be a conqueror? In a flash, she pictured him striding tall across the plains of Trure as armies burned around him. She forced away the image with a shudder. She wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, wishing she and Siv had waited longer before speaking. She’d have been happy if they didn’t talk at all. “You have to leave the city without me.”

  “You can’t stay forever.” Siv closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed her hands. “Fight her, Dara. Figure out a way to use Wyla’s magic against her, or bash her over the head. I don’t care. Just don’t give up.”

  His gaze bore into her with the intensity of a whirlpool. Dara avoided it.

  “We should go,” she said. “We can’t be seen together.”

  “I’m not letting you change the subject,” Siv said, his hands tightening on hers. “Please let the Waterlor
d break the bond so we can go back where we belong. Together.”

  “It won’t work,” Dara said.

  “You can’t accept that,” Siv said. “Vertigon needs us. It’s our home. You’re a Fireworker. You may be able to use this Watermight stuff, but don’t get caught up in their fight. You should be on the mountain, blazing like the sun. Not sitting here letting some slimy Pendarkan witch tell you what to do.”

  “Siv . . .”

  “They need our help.”

  Dara’s throat constricted. Siv couldn’t stay here while his family and his kingdom were in peril. She wanted to go with him. She had promised to defend him until her last breath. But she wasn’t strong enough yet.

  And she wanted the power. She wanted to Wield as no magic user had before. She wanted to show every magician, Worker, Wielder, practitioner, Sensor, and Artist on the continent that she could defeat them all.

  The Fire above her flickered, as if it could sense her agitation. It made the tower glow like the inside of a lantern. Siv pulled her closer, as if he could sense the conflict within her. Or maybe he couldn’t wait to hold her any longer.

  “Please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “I need you.”

  Dara’s heart felt as if it were being stretched out, pulled in two different directions. It was excruciating. The only thing holding her together was Siv’s body pressed against hers. She didn’t want to spend their precious moments together arguing. She didn’t want to say another word about Khrillin, or her father, or the war. Apparently, Siv didn’t either, because he bent his face to hers and kissed her at last.

  The kiss was earnest, intense. It had been far too long.

  He wrapped his arms around her, held her tighter. The kiss deepened, intensified.

  “Siv,” she breathed against his lips.

  He seemed incapable of speech. His hands found her waist, and he tugged her shirt loose from her trousers. He ran his fingers over the skin of her stomach, her back. Dara burned like a lantern. She wanted this so much.

  Hardly knowing what she was doing, she drew the Fire back toward her. It sang through her veins, passionate, burning, as Siv’s touch set her skin alight. Dara arched her back, pressing against him, her mouth still captured by his. He spread burning shivers along her body with his fingertips.

  The Fire in her blood sang in time with the heat. She had forgotten how much she loved this, loved the Fire. She needed the heat and the intensity and the power. And she needed him.

  As Dara glowed like a torch in Siv’s arms, she detected a flicker of something at the edge of her senses. Something with the same intensity, the same power, but freezing rather than burning.

  Then a massive wave of Watermight hit the lighthouse with the force of a thousand terrerack bulls.

  28.

  The Power

  WATERMIGHT thundered over the tower, pouring through the windows and cascading around them. It moved like a living thing, like a torrent of vipers threatening to swallow them whole.

  Dara glowed with Fire and heat and need. There was no time to release the Fire before battling the Watermight trying to drown them. Still holding onto Siv, she opened her mouth and pulled down huge gulps of Watermight, gasping as the ice met the flame.

  Excruciating pain swept through her. Her bones screamed with the intensity of the power. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Siv held her in his arms, his head buried in her neck to protect his eyes from the rush of silver-white magic. She thought he shouted her name, but she couldn’t hear anything for the screaming of her own body.

  She was going to be overwhelmed. The Fire and Watermight would meet, combust, destroy her and Siv and everything within a hundred miles. She felt the powers swirling in her body, dancing around each other like knife fighters. She couldn’t take it much longer.

  “Fight it,” Siv hissed in her ear. “Fight it, Dara. You can do it.”

  She couldn’t do it. No one could. The powers couldn’t work together. This was folly. Wyla was wrong. She couldn’t.

  “Fight. Dara. You can beat this.”

  So Dara fought.

  She remembered the Watermight giving her strength. She pulled it close to her body, her bones. She held onto it like a bridge in a storm, forcing it to keep her together while whoever was directing it tried to tear her apart. Then she reached for the Fire, for the sensations that were familiar yet still wild and all consuming. The Fire rioted in her veins, oozed out of her skin like sweat.

  Focus, Dara. Fight it.

  She focused on the two powers, twins and enemies, fighting within her, giving her strength. She would control them both. She would bend them to her will. She couldn’t lose now.

  Slowly, the Fire and Watermight stabilized in her body. They whirled together, a terrifying cacophony of power—but they didn’t combust. The pain lessened, though it didn’t dissipate entirely.

  Then she had it. For one perfect moment, she found a balance.

  She seized the riot of power with all her strength, rode it like a kite on the wind. A wave of force rose within her, building, building.

  Breaking.

  The stone walls of the tower shattered like glass as the power exploded from her. The concussion pushed against the Watermight torrent. The Fire, even in this small quantity, amplified her power. It forced back the attack and sent a wave traveling away from them in a perfect circle, Watermight bedecked with flickering tongues of Fire. A shrieking sounded around her, and Dara thought her eardrums would burst.

  She kept her eyes open despite the blinding pain. The wave of power reached the city, shattering windows and making houses tremble on their stilts. It swept through half a district before finally losing its power, dying out like a spring wind.

  An abrupt silence followed. Then chattering filled the air as birds took flight and streaked away from the source of the concussion, fleeing for the Bell Sea. Screams and shouts of anger and confusion rose from the city. Every face in Pendark was no doubt turning toward the terrible explosion of power.

  Dara and Siv stood at the center of the chaos. The concussion had burst the top of the tower like a bubble, but the lower part remained intact, if more rickety than before. Neither one moved. Dara feared the burst of power had killed him, the concussive wave turning his brain to mush in an instant. He wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving?

  The power was completely gone from her body. She still had strength left, but she was utterly terrified of what she would find if she moved.

  Then Siv lifted his head and looked at her, eyes wide.

  “Is it over?”

  “I don’t know,” Dara said.

  “That . . . that was you, right? The explosion part at the end?”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s what happens when you get Fire and Watermight to work together.”

  “Mother of a cullmoran.” Siv stepped back from her. Their light was gone, but so was the roof of the tower. Moonlight revealed the color draining from his face. “That was incredible.”

  “We need to go before they attack again.”

  “I doubt whoever sent that wave will be attacking anything anytime soon,” Siv said. “I’d be surprised if they’re still standing. I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

  “You’d better be ready to run,” Dara said. “We can’t be seen here.”

  “You’re always looking for new ways to get me to go running, aren’t you?” Siv turned for the hole in the floorboards. “Looks like the ladder couldn’t handle the pressure. Give me a second.”

  He swung his legs through the opening and dropped into the darkness. Dara approached the hole cautiously. She felt shaky, but not as much as she would have expected now that the pain was gone. She was mostly surprised and a little scared of what she had just done. If Wyla realized just how powerful the Fire and Watermight could be together, she would never let Dara walk away.

  “Ladder’s in pieces,” Siv called. “Go ahead and jump. I’ll catch you.”

  “It’s okay. I don�
��t want to kick you in the head.” She waited until he was clear before dropping to the ground. She landed hard, but Siv was there to steady her before she stumbled. He stared at her for a few heartbeats, a strange expression on his face. She thought it was wonder.

  She started to speak. He raised a hand to quiet her.

  “Shh. Someone’s coming.”

  The sound of rocks shifting on the jetty announced the approach. They drew their swords, ready to defend themselves. Dara tried to pull on trace Watermight. The wave had left nothing behind. She was surprised not to feel utterly drained. Using the two powers had been incredibly painful, but it hadn’t taken her energy in the same way that overloading on the Fire could. Interesting.

  They waited in front of the tower as the steps drew closer. Confused shouts rose in the distance. Lanterns bobbed at the end of the jetty, more people coming to investigate.

  A pair of young boys reached them first, one of them wearing a familiar orange bandana.

  “You see anything, Tel?” his companion said, voice shaking slightly.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you reckon happened?”

  “Must have been a Fire sorcerer,” said Tel, the boy in orange.

  “Fire sorcerer?”

  “Like they have in the north.”

  “You’re crazy,” his friend said. “It’s just one of them Waterworkers trying out a new trick.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Tel. “This was diff—”

  “Shh! Someone’s there!”

  “Where?”

  “By the old lighthouse.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Dara jumped as Siv nudged her arm. He put his sword in its sheath and stepped out of the shadows.

  “Ho there!” he called.

  The scrambling footsteps stilled.

  “Who’s there?” Tel called. “We got weapons.”

  “You won’t need them,” Siv said. “We’re just looking around. Wanted to see what that big explosion was all about.”

  “Oh.” The boy sounded relieved. “Us too.”

  The two ventured near enough that they could make out more details about them in the dark. They wore the tattered clothing of street urchins, and they carried muddy sticks in their hands like swords. Both had been among the swimmers they met at this beach a few months ago.