by AB Bradley
Iron watched with only half a mind present as the crew threw their celebration. Everyone had gathered beneath a swath of glittering stars with its thin crescent of a lopsided moon a catlike grin just above the horizon. It looked as if the moon knew Iron’s secret and mocked him for the burden he carried. It probably knew where Asgeron’s shrine waited as well. Hells, it had probably watched the titan make it.
Ayska held the celebration on one of the lower, largest balconies ringing the tower’s base. Blossoming plants grew in bountiful bushels over the blue stone. How they sprouted from hewn rock, Iron had no idea, but he appreciated the sweet aroma the lavender and lily blossoms added to the fresh breeze.
Whether through pure charisma or saltwater gin or a mix of both, Vigal somehow coaxed a dance from Fiolle. Apparently, they’d been more than dance partners and friends for awhile, a not-so-secret secret Sander had been thrilled to discover.
The two sailors stepped and twirled in a rhythmic dance Iron had never seen this dance before that night. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any dances in his lifetime, save catching his master twirling on the snow once or twice when he thought Iron had fallen asleep. Dancing reminded Iron of dueling, but with two winners in the end. He liked that idea.
While Vigal and Fiolle danced, Round Gil and Thip played some sort of drinking game with a cup and dice. Depending on the roll, either the player took a shot or ordered the partner to take one. Considering the weight difference between the men, he expected Thip to crumple into a snoring pile several rounds ago. But the way Gil swayed as he threw his dice told him Thip might have had a little more skill with the game than he let Gil know.
Sander danced with a few of the others. They had their arms linked together and spun around like a windmill with Sander at its center. Iron couldn’t help but smile. How long had it been since he’d seen his master so happy? Of course, the man’s sloppy grin and bleary eyes might all have been a ploy. He probably watched Iron like a glory hawk even as he slurped his gin and guzzled his ale.
Next Iron’s gaze wandered to Kalila. She moved like a gentle giant through the blossoms. Not a word slipped from her lips, but then again, words never did. She bent low and caressed the soft flowers, her wide nose swelling as she took in their scent with a smile. Some part of her respected that garden, she never picked a single petal, much less a bloom, no matter how alluring.
“They can be free here,” Ayska said, drawing alongside him. “It’s the one place on Urum untouched by the High King and his cult.”
Iron bit his lip. “Everything always circles back to him.”
“It does and it will until he’s stopped, Six willing.”
“I’m sure they are.” Iron took his sword from the scabbard, holding the grip in one hand and flat of the blade in the other. It glowed brighter than the mischievous moon. Its radiance betrayed the power within it.
“What do you see?” he asked her.
She shrugged, leaning to the weapon. “Your sword.”
“My sword…” He laughed and sheathed Fang. The gods wanted him to be a hero, they just didn’t want anyone to know it. Sander bound his magic with the Sinner’s Oath while the Mother hid his sword beneath an illusion of paltry steel.
“What’s so funny? You’ve been acting strange since your accident at the pool.” She nudged his shoulder playfully. “That seawater get in your brain?”
“More than I’d like, I think.”
Ayska gripped a braid, idly inspecting it. She released it after a quiet moment and took his wrist. “Come with me.” She swiveled to the door leading inside the tower.
“You want to practice Loyal Stance? Now? I’m not really in the mood.”
“No, there’ll be plenty of time to practice. I want to show you something else.”
She led him inside and up the gently sloping walkway. Evenly spaced windows illuminated the interior with moonlight, washing over her bare arms and accentuating the scars running up them.
By the time they reached their destination, Iron’s legs burned from the climb. Ayska strolled onto another balcony much smaller than the first but much, much higher. The tower peaked behind him. The Sapphire Sea glittered below. The stars, they shone in their own flashy glory around the grinning crescent.
She walked to the balcony’s lip and leaned on its solid rail. He’d nearly hated this woman once, but it struck him as a silly thought now. Then, he saw her scars and the fear they wrought. Now, he saw the woman she’d become despite them.
“I used to curse them,” Ayska said.
Iron stood beside her as a breeze whipped around them, warm and inviting. “The Six?”
She nodded as she searched the sky. “They had my hatred. After the Godfall, magic vanished, the priests who protected us disappeared, murdered or too afraid to fight. Only the High King and the Serpent Sun remained. His priests slaughtered as they went. They purged Eloia first. Then, they came for those who lived around them. Kalila and I…we lost everything. Everyone. She spoke once.” Ayska’s lip trembled. “Had I been a more loyal sister, she might not be suffering as I know she is now, but my father was a hard man, and when they fell, he broke. I fled. Kalila stayed. She paid the price for his insanity while my childish anger at the gods nearly lost me the only one I had left.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. You’d never run—”
“No, I would Iron because I did. All I can do now is be the sister I should have been, the loyal one who stays by her side instead of fleeing when the serpents come.” Ayska grabbed his hand and pointed. “Look, there she is.”
Iron followed the line his finger drew. “I only see a bunch of stars.”
“That’s the Mother’s constellation. They say it’s her, watching us, mourning our loss of innocence and hoping we find our love again. There’s a constellation for each of the Six up there. They say soon those constellations will align, but I don’t know exactly when.”
Ayska shifted Iron’s hand across the sky. “That’s the Loyal Father, ever watching, waiting for the day when we’re worthy to hear his song again. They say his song is what ignites the Suns when they first rise. It’s him I cursed. It’s him I wished death upon those many dark nights.”
The words actually took Iron back. This was a woman who loved the Loyal Father, who fought using his stances, and if the crew was correct, kept a shrine to him in her room.
“It’s easy to curse them, Iron.” She sighed and dropped his hand, turning to him. “But I was the one who needed cursing. I was the disloyal one. I was the sinner, not the saint. When I realized that, I returned to him and devoted my life to being his daughter. He fights for those without a voice, and so do I. And because I have faith in him, he brought me a ship and gave me a crew. I have a real, true family, and because I love the father, he keeps them safe. I know it. In my heart, I just know it.”
He brushed a hand through her braids. His fingers caressed her jaw. She didn’t stop him. That sent his heart fluttering. “You are the most loyal person I know, Ayska. You gave Sander and I your word you’d give us safe passage, and even facing down Brother Caspran, you kept us safe. Your crew loves you because you love them. You’d give your life for them. I can see that. And Kalila, her world is everything to you.”
Her lip quivered again. “Thank you. I just wish…I wish I could rewrite the past. The deeper scars you can’t see, and they’ll never fade.”
Instinct took command of Iron’s heart. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft as lily blossoms, warm as the sea’s breath, and passionate as a true believer. His arm wrapped around her, bringing her closer, and for the eternity that passes within a first kiss, the world and its problems faded beneath the glittering sky.
“Iron!” Sander’s voice shattered their moment, and the burden of a broken world came crashing down once again.
Ayska pulled away. She straightened her vest and smiled, heading for the tower. “We’ll pick up practice with Loyal Stance again tomorrow.” Her tone was a st
eel door slamming shut over her heart. “You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready.”
Sander whipped into view as she twisted beside him and disappeared into the hall. The man arched a curious brow as his bleary gaze followed her inside. “What was all that about?”
“Don’t you worry, master. I wasn’t making friends.” Sander never said anything about someone becoming more than that, and for the first time in his journey, he realized he very much wanted more than that. “You looked like you were having fun down there. Figures it was all just a show to keep me from having any.”
His master waved dismissively and spun on his heel toward the tower. “Get back downstairs and enjoy yourself. We might not have many more of these calm nights left to us.”
Iron shot a parting glance at the Mother’s constellation. Your shrine, I’ll find it. Your shame, I’ll learn it. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll forgive it. Are you a god, or are you an avalanche?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Beasts of the Sea
Whatever Iron and Ayska shared on the balcony that night did not repeat in the following days no matter how hard he tried to crack her steely shell. Instead, they practiced Loyal Stance from sunrise to sunset in the narrow passage weaving up the tower like a snake around a throat. In the morning, they started at the tower’s base. By sunset, they reached its peak.
Iron’s quick learning surprised even Sander. When once he could hardly remain upright, now Iron nearly equaled Ayska’s skill. He suspected his kiss made her uncomfortable and the unease had bled into her confidence as a duelist and a teacher. That shamed him more than anything. Iron needed the strong Ayska, the wisecracking, smarmy Ayska who’d gotten under his skin so much in Ormhild. That Ayska didn’t have any faults. Now, she was like the Six. Something admired, but imperfect.
Why then did he still want to be near her sunrise to long after sunset? Nothing made sense.
Maybe his new weapon gave him some kind of power and skill the others couldn’t comprehend. While everyone saw the simple steel blade, Iron knew the truth. This gently arced sword that glowed day or night, light as a feather and sharper than any steel, it must grant him some kind of godly boon. If he’d received this gift in Skaard, he would have accepted it eagerly. Knowing the truth, knowing that the gods he loved used others to fight their wars and in doing so left the world in ashes twisted his stomach into a greasy knot.
Iron brandished a sword coated in muck that only he could see. He hated it, but for some reason, he just couldn’t let Fang go.
Ayska withdrew, and they spilled into the small balcony circling the topmost tower level. The sun set directly behind her. The disc tore the horizon into bands of orange and red. It painted clouds with fire and gave her a brilliant aura that sparkled over her braids and turned the beads of sweat on her brow into diamonds.
“I didn’t land a hit today,” she said with a smile. “You’re a scarily fast learner.”
Sander reclined on the tower wall, peeling a fruit he’d found growing on a lower balcony. Orange, he’d called it, after its color. He gave Iron a taste. It was good, sweet. The man often waited for them at the tallest floor, a habit Iron noted with more than a little irritation.
His master nodded and wiped a line of juice slipping down his chin. “He’s okay when he listens. Maybe if I’d had a pair like you—”
“Sander, shut up,” Iron hissed.
“What? I was talking about her swords.”
He scowled at his master as he sheathed Fang. Sweat soaked his shirt and plastered his hair against his brow. He wiped the moisture from his face and breathed in the wind as it came whistling from the west. “I’m starving.”
Ayska made her way to the tower. “I’m sure Thip has some grub ready for us. I could use a bite myself.”
Sander tossed his orange peel and pushed from the wall. “Shall we? I hope it’s not that fig concoction he made the other day. They turned bitter when—”
A trumpet blast rocked Spineshell, cutting Sander’s words short. Ayska’s face paled, her hands moving to her swords while Iron and Sander traded worried glances.
“What is it?” Iron asked.
Ayska bolted into the tower. “Alarm! Ships sighted at sea. Gods be dammed, we’re all the way up in this stupid tower!”
Iron and Sander sprinted to the balcony rail. Maybe it was just a merchant vessel that wandered into Spineshell’s treacherous waters. Maybe everything would be fine. He leaned over and stared into the setting sun. Nothing appeared on the horizon. “Maybe they’re coming from the east?”
A shrill cry filled the sky as a flock of birds tore like demons toward the clouds, coming from below. They encased the tower in a veil of shifting black and white. Iron knew those birds, and he remembered who commanded them.
Sander cursed and grabbed Iron’s shoulder, spinning him toward the tower. “The bastards snuck up on us somehow. Get inside! To the ship!”
They raced toward the tower. Iron already had his hand on his sword. “He’s here, Sander! How could he come here without being seen?”
Birds screeched and screamed and pierced the evening. Iron dove inside and sprinted down the corridor.
“I know,” Sander called. “I don’t know how he found us, but he did.”
“What do we do?”
“Survive first. Plan later. Let your instincts guide you. Sinner, save us, this is going to be a close one!”
It’s not up to the Sinner, Iron thought darkly. It’s up to us.
Iron screamed Ayska’s name. Caspran had returned. He wouldn’t leave them unscathed. Visions of the crew flashed through Iron’s mind. Vigal’s toothy smile. Round Gil’s red cheeks and glittering eyes. Thip sniffing steaming trails of his stew. Fiolle’s stalwart exterior hiding an ocean of emotion within it. Kalila, giggling at a blossom she’d just sniffed. Ayska. Ayska.
Round and round Iron ran as he descended the tower’s seemingly endless floors. A shudder rocked the structure, and he tumbled, his knees smacking the floor. He winced as Sander plucked him to his feet. “They’re attacking the tower. They want to collapse the whole damnable thing on our heads!”
“We’ve got to find the others,” Iron roared as another shockwave slammed the building and smashed him against the wall. A terrifying shearing sound ripped through the hallway, and the tower swayed.
“Get out on the next balcony, Iron,” Sander called through the chaos.
“But the crew—”
“Isn’t stupid enough to be in the tower unless they’re already dead. We’ll be dead too if we don’t get out of this soon-to-be tomb, boy!”
Without another warning, Sander shoved Iron onto one of the large lower balconies. He stumbled and fell, tripping on some kind of spindly bush. Iron slammed his hands on the floor, twisting to curse at his master.
An explosion blasted against the seaward side of the tower. Black smoke rocketed in a ring against the blue stone, hurling chunks of the building in every direction. Long cracks forced their way across the smooth wall. The tower gave a final shudder like a dying man’s last breath. Its top half twisted, and it collapsed, the balcony plummeting with Sander and Iron on it.
Sander reached for Iron, and Iron reached for him. All anger vanished in his panic, and for a brief moment, he was a little boy again, and all he wanted were his master’s arms.
The balcony hit the sea. The stone blasted a wall of water and foam over the garden. Iron’s fingers graced Sander’s and almost took hold. Almost.
The explosive wave hit like a boulder and flung Iron into the sea. His fingers left his master’s, and he hit the waves.
Iron woke with a scream on his lips. All was black. Still. No, wait—his vision returned. There was a light, a faint light. It illuminated his world with a silver glow. He knew that glow. His sword? Yes, that cursed gift for the Fireborn of the Third Sun.
The light moved. Why did it move? His head hurt and his world drifted in a nauseating spin. Another cough racked his chest, and he hacked out th
e last of the seawater burning his lungs.
He was in a room. Not a large one, but circular with a domed ceiling that spiraled to a point like the inside of a seashell. The sea welled up from a hole in the floor and formed a pond in the center of the room. Gods, these alps could build a beautiful city but they really needed sturdier floors. A trail of moisture glimmered from the water to where he lay. Someone had dragged him from the sea and most likely saved his life.
“Sander?” He pressed the heel of his palm against his temple and tried to remember those last chaotic moments on the tower balcony.
Sander didn’t reply, so Iron tried again. “Where are you, Sander?”
His voice echoed on on the bare walls. Movement scraped against the floor, coming from behind. Fear lanced up his spine. He spun around, clumsily coming to his feet and ready to spring should it Caspran stand before him.
He recognized the figure, and thankfully she did not wear pale trappings. Kalila hunched in the corner. Cuts and bruises painted her arms and legs. She shivered, hands cupping her wide face as she sobbed in the shadows. Seawater plastered her hair against her temples and dripped down her arms, where it collected in fat drops at her elbows.
“Kalila, did you save me? Thank you.” He shuffled over to her and clasped her forearms. She recoiled like his touch was acid and sobbed harder, burying her face in her hands.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” He tried clasping her again, but she wailed and scrambled back.
So no touching, then. Ayska knew how to deal with her sister. Iron wished she was here to help. If she was even alive.
Caspran found them, but how? Iron looked at the facts before them, and one conclusion stood above the rest.
A spy lived amongst the crew of the Scarlet Widow, and Iron would find them once he rejoined them. Gods, he would find that spy and he would make them pay if Caspran so much as scratched a single one of his friends.