steel and fire 03 - dance of steel

by rivet, jordan

  Dara wondered if Vine had confirmed the legitimacy of such a tactic in the dueling regulations, but she didn’t have a chance to ask before Meza returned. She glided over to their nook and set a tray on the table before them. Steam rose from three teacups arranged around a plate of flatbread with honey and delicate slices of sweetmeat. Dara reached for the food first. She was very hungry after her night in the palace dungeons.

  “Thank you for giving us a place to hide,” Dara said, dropping a piece of sweetmeat on the floor for Rumy. “I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

  Meza smiled vaguely over her teacup. “You only need hide if you run,” she said.

  Vine sighed. “You are so wise.”

  “Right.” Dara cleared her throat. “Well, we shouldn’t stay long.”

  “Take a moment to relax and breathe, Dara,” Vine said. “Your distress is preventing you from thinking clearly. The city guard has been searching all night, and they haven’t turned up a single clue about our friend’s whereabouts. We must approach the problem with more grace.”

  “What if he’s been taken out of the city?” Dara said, panic seizing her despite their serene surroundings.

  “Then it is all the more important that we don’t run about like you have been so far.” Vine patted Dara on the arm and turned to her friend or energy coach or whatever Meza was.

  “Meza, we are most grateful for the gift of your hospitality,” Vine said. “I must also ask you for the gift of help. We need to find a missing friend.”

  “You know what you must do,” Meza said.

  “Yes, but I fear I’ve been less tranquil than I ought to be of late,” Vine said. She glanced at Dara with a look that could almost be interpreted as accusatory. “I hoped you might guide me in the meditations.”

  Meza smiled gently. “Of course. You always bring the gift of joy when you visit us, Vine. I feel blessed to sit with you and guide where I am permitted.”

  Dara was still confused. “Uh, what meditations? How will sitting and thinking help us find him?”

  “Sitting and thinking are more powerful than you may yet understand,” Meza said. She set her teacup back on the platter and adjusted her rose-embroidered headscarf. The ends seemed to flutter of their own accord. “What is the one thing that touches you and me and your lost friend at the same moment?”

  “I assume we’re talking about air?”

  “Not just air,” Meza said. “We are touching Air. Its presence fills the plains of Trure and reaches its warm embrace across the hills and all the way to the distant waves.”

  Dara shivered, feeling the hair stand up on her neck again. Meza’s eerie voice and pale gown did little to dispel the ghostly sensation. Vine watched her raptly. Rumy had fallen asleep on the painted tile floor. Apparently this strange, ethereal woman didn’t disturb him.

  “The Air speaks to us if we listen,” Meza said, “and gives us the gift of help if we ask.”

  “You’re saying you can reach out with the Air and find out where Si—our friend is?”

  “I am saying we can ask,” Meza said.

  Dara didn’t really understand all this stuff about asking—as if the Air were a conscious being. She was used to the magic of the Fire, but it was a tangible substance. Yes, she could control it with her mind, but it was still a physical thing that flowed through the mountain. It had an identifiable source—the Well beneath King’s Peak—and concrete limits. Air was just . . . air. Her father had never paid much heed to the Truren Air Sensors. Dara had thought they all lived out on the Far Plains anyway. She was surprised to find them right here within running distance of the palace. But if there was a chance to find Siv, she wasn’t going to argue.

  “How long will it take?” she asked.

  “We cannot hurry the Air,” Meza said. “The men and women you saw out in the courtyard have been coaxing the Air to move the pool since sunup. You happened to arrive at the moment when it granted their request, but you must give patience if you wish to receive help in return.”

  “How much patience?” Dara said.

  Vine chuckled. “Don’t worry, Dara. I want to help our friend too.” She poured herself another cup of tea. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long night. Worry is clouding your judgment and driving you to haste. Take some time to calm yourself. I will find out where he is.”

  Dara wished they could hurry up and get started if it took that much time to get the Air to cooperate. They could coax the Air if they thought it would help, but they needed answers soon. She didn’t want to contemplate the possibility that it might already be too late.

  Vine and Meza took their time finishing their lunch, chatting amicably about prior Air retreats while Dara restrained herself from leaping up and searching the streets again. When they were finally done, Meza insisted that Dara wait in a guest room at the back of the house while she and Vine worked.

  “You have an anxious energy,” Meza said. “I must ask you to give us the gift of space and not disrupt our meditations.”

  Dara bit back the urge to ask her for the gift of speed. She may not understand this power, but right now it was their only hope of finding Siv before he was beyond help. She didn’t want to get in their way. Rumy apparently didn’t have a distracting energy, because he was allowed to continue snoozing in the nook while Dara was directed to her room.

  She used the washbasin and a pitcher of steaming-hot water in the austere guest room to freshen up and changed into the clothes Vine had brought for her (blue Castle Guard jacket, gray trousers, and black blouse). She tucked the necklace Siv had bought for her underneath her blouse for safekeeping, the metal-wrapped stone warm against her skin.

  Now that she was clean and fed, fatigue hit her like a sword thrust to the chest. She stretched out on the bed, resolving to close her eyes for a few minutes and gather her strength. She needed to be ready to move the second Vine came up with a location.

  The manor house was quiet. Calm. No sound came from the city outside the walls. A gentle breeze whispered around her bed. That was odd. Dara didn’t think the guest room had any windows. She drifted to sleep.

  Dara sat bolt upright, reaching for her sword. A single candle burned on the table beside her bed. The room was empty. She had been so sure she sensed a presence a moment ago. She shook her head to clear it. It had been a dream. A dream where her mother stood over her while she slept, twirling a ball of Fire between her hands.

  Dara got up and went to the washbasin. The last of the water in the pitcher was ice cold. How long had she slept? She felt remarkably well rested.

  She put on her boots, buckled on her sword belt, and crept out of the guest room. The hall was quiet, except for that strange whispering breeze. She walked toward the front of the house, feeling uneasy. Shadows cloaked the walls. It must be the middle of the night. Had she truly slept through the entire afternoon?

  She stopped at the sight of two familiar figures. Vine and Meza sat on cushions on the painted tile floor, each facing one of the wide, darkened windows at the front of the house. Their eyes were open, but they didn’t acknowledge Dara as she approached them from the side.

  Both women were breathing deeply, sitting utterly still. They wore the same clothes as when Dara had last seen them what must have been hours ago. She waited beside them for a few minutes, wanting to ask how it was going, but they didn’t turn toward her.

  She scanned the rest of the shadowy room and noticed the tray on the table had been replaced with a plate of fresh fruit and flatbread. When the two women still didn’t move, Dara went over and helped herself. She felt impatient as she waited for them to complete their work. Rumy had moved from the floor to one of the couches. Somehow Dara didn’t think Meza would mind. He opened one eye when she sat beside him, then went right back to sleep.

  After her breakfast, Dara stretched on the tile floor, watching for any signs that Vine and Meza were almost finished. Still nothing. It must be so frustrating to sit still like that for so long. The first hint
s of dawn had begun to peek through the windows.

  She did footwork to pass the time, advancing, retreating, breathing. She lost herself in the rhythm, quieting her mind, focusing on her steps. She thought of the many hours she had spent training with Siv. She wanted to go back to when nothing mattered but staying in shape and winning duels. She breathed steadily, thinking of Siv, praying he was all right, hoping they’d find him soon.

  The breeze moved around her again, reassuring rather than eerie this time.

  Suddenly Vine rose to her feet.

  “I’ve found him!” she said. “Come, Dara. He’s been taken out of the city. The time for patience has ended. We must follow at once before he is beyond our reach!”

  16.

  The Soolens

  SIV wished he could see where he was being taken. Riding in a wagon with his eyes covered was even less fun than it sounded. For a while he tried to guess his position based on the noises around him, but all he heard was the creak of the wagon, the sigh of the breeze, and the clop-clop of the horses.

  He slept a bit, figuring he’d need his strength if he had any chance of escaping. His grandfather was sure to send men after him, and he intended to assist in his own rescue. It was slightly embarrassing that he had been captured so easily.

  He gradually became aware of darkness descending, despite the sack over his head. That meant he’d been a prisoner for more than a full day. He was afraid they were going to travel through another night, but Chala called a halt at last. The sounds of men setting up camp replaced the clop of the horses. In short order, Siv was dragged from the wagon and deposited on the cold ground. Crackling sounded nearby, and the warmth of a campfire touched him a second later. It reminded him of Dara. And Rumy. He shouldn’t leave Rumy out.

  He hoped Dara wasn’t too worried about him. She was the type of person to blame herself when things went wrong. He was quite certain that this little kidnapping escapade was entirely his own fault. He should have known better than to go walking through the city alone. His two weeks confined to the palace had made him reckless. He was certainly paying the price for it now.

  He managed to pull himself into a sitting position without accidentally pitching into the campfire. He shifted around until only a handful of rocks dug into his backside.

  “Any chance I could get something to drink?” he called.

  His captors exchanged quiet words. They had been careful not to talk around him so far. Wherever they were taking him, they intended to keep it a secret.

  “Here.”

  Someone pulled up the sack on his head enough to uncover his mouth and knocked a canteen against his lips. Siv tipped back his head to drink, trying to get a good look at his surroundings under the edge of the sack while he had the chance.

  There wasn’t much to see, just a flickering fire with a few dark shapes lounging around it. He was pretty sure Charn was the one holding the water, blocking most of the view. He tugged the sack down over Siv’s eyes again as soon as he pulled the canteen away.

  “Thank you kindly,” Siv said. “Got any wine?”

  Charn snorted and didn’t answer. So he wasn’t the friendly type.

  Charn shuffled away from him. He returned a moment later and tapped Siv on the shoulder.

  “Food,” he said, pulling up the sack again. This time he made sure Siv couldn’t see anything at all.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to bind my hands in front so I can feed myself?” Siv said.

  “Shut up.” Charn pressed something against Siv’s face. He opened his mouth, and his captor stuck an enormous chunk of jerky between his teeth and yanked the sack back over his face. It was all Siv could do to chew without choking. At least that distracted from the slightly rancid taste of the meat. He missed the cooks in Vertigon very much indeed.

  “Chala,” Siv said after he managed to choke down the jerky. “You there?”

  “Don’t talk to him,” Charn said.

  “It’s all right. I’m here.”

  Chala’s voice came from Siv’s right. He turned toward it.

  “Got any wine, Chala? You may be kidnapping me, but we can at least be civilized about it.”

  “He’s your prisoner, not your friend,” Charn snapped.

  “Oh, what can it hurt?” Chala said.

  Siv recognized the blessed music of a cork being popped. Then another bottle was put to his lips. He tipped his head back for a long swig, and this time he managed to see a bit more from underneath the sack. There were two men apart from Chala and Charn around the campfire. One was big and burly, and the other had the lean, muscular look of a hardened criminal. Charn he recognized by his swift movements and sour expression before Chala repositioned the sack over his head.

  The heat from the wine rushed through Siv faster than usual. He must be more worn down and dehydrated than he realized. Could he take four men in this state? Chala was a soft man who preferred parlors and dining rooms to dueling halls. Siv didn’t rate him as a fighter. But Charn’s swift movements suggested he knew how to handle himself, and the other two looked just as dangerous from what Siv could tell.

  There was also still the problem of Siv’s bound wrists and ankles. And the fact that he had no weapon. Escape wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Do you plan to keep me tied up all the way to Soole, Chala?” Siv asked. “My arms will fall off if you don’t let me get the blood flowing.”

  “Who said anything about Soole?” Chala said.

  Siv frowned. Where else would a party of Soolen men be taking him if not Soole? He remembered a name he’d heard earlier that day. Or was it yesterday? He was beginning to lose track.

  “So Commander Brach isn’t in Soole? My spies suggest otherwise.”

  “Spies?” came a gruff voice from across the campfire. “What spies?”

  “Quiet, Tech,” snapped Charn.

  “Oh, Vertigon has spies all over the place,” Siv said. “I know a lot more about what’s going on than you realize. You boys are making a big mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “Shut up, Tech.”

  “It’s a mistake because you think Commander Brach is loyal to the crown. Ha!” Siv tried to lean nonchalantly—difficult with his wrists and ankles still bound. “What if I told you you’re betraying Soole and your own countrymen by trying to deliver me to Brach?”

  To his surprise, the men chuckled.

  “Obviously,” Tech muttered.

  “Siv, you’re smarter than this,” Chala said. “I’m disappointed.”

  Siv shifted uncomfortably, thinking fast. They were actually betraying their countrymen? On purpose? He tried to remember what he’d heard about Commander Brach but didn’t come up with much. Wasn’t Brach a wealthy house? Sora would have known. She always kept track of important figures in every country.

  So he’d been taken by a bunch of Soolens who weren’t loyal to Soole. But they planned to deliver him to a Commander Brach. Would he be with the force that had invaded Cindral Forest? That was much closer to Trure than Soole. Maybe his arms wouldn’t fall off after all.

  “So how much longer until we get to Cindral Forest?” Siv asked.

  “How did you—?”

  “Shut up, Tech.”

  Siv heard a smack from across the campfire. Point to Siv! Not that the prospect of being delivered to Cindral Forest was much better than Soole. He still had the hostile Soolen army to worry about. The only good news was that he might not have to ride in the wagon for quite as many weeks if they were truly heading for the mysterious forest.

  A low mumble indicated that the men were discussing something they didn’t want Siv to overhear. Even though Cindral Forest was closer than Soole, this trip was going to get boring fast if no one would talk to him.

  “If you’re not going to include me in your chat,” Siv called, “you could at least give me another sip of that wine.”

  Dara, Vine, and Rumy left the Sensors Manor before the sun rose. Unfortunately for Dara, they had decided to ride. Me
za gifted them a pair of horses: a palomino mare for Vine and a gray gelding with a black mane for Dara.

  “This is the lovely Goldenflower, and this is Storm,” Meza had said, introducing them like old friends. “May they aid you in your travels and give pleasant companionship on the road.”

  Storm wasn’t quite as large and strong as Old Fence, but Dara didn’t feel any more comfortable on horseback than she had before. They needed the speed, though. Siv had gotten a head start, and even with Vine’s assurances that he was still alive, Dara wanted to get to him as soon as possible. He didn’t even know Sora was alive!

  Vine spent a few minutes whispering in Goldenflower’s soft ear before bidding Meza a final farewell and leading the way into the city. The streets filled with a quiet rustle as people ambled to their jobs, bread rolls clutched in hands and sleep clinging to eyes. As ever, the soft whinny of horses permeated the air. The sunlight of the day before had dried the mud, and the city took on a shiny, new feeling as fingers of light spread from the rising sun.

  Dara felt surprisingly well rested after their stay with the Air Sensors. She brushed a hand over her Savven blade, that mysterious warmth giving her strength. She’d picked out the stitches on her Castle Guard coat to obscure the sigil. She wrapped Storm’s reins tightly around her hands and tried not to fall off as they bounced along the street. Siv’s pendant swung around her neck, tapping steadily against her chest like an extra heartbeat—not that she needed any reminders of her mission.

  They traveled south, skirting around the royal palace to reach the city boundaries. The silver expanse of Azure Lake appeared in flashes between the buildings. Vine followed an invisible trail in the Air, insisting it would lead her directly to Siv and his captors. She was certain he had already been taken beyond the outer borders of the city. Dara was skeptical, but they had no other clues. Besides, if they stayed in Rallion, the city guard would eventually spot her and throw her back into the palace dungeon. She’d already instructed Rumy to trail them by a hundred feet or so to avoid drawing unwanted eyes.