by AB Bradley
“I have an inkling he will make an appearance when the celestial alignment occurs. Something happens then—but what, I cannot say.”
Iron crossed his arms and cursed his heart for blinding him to the truth. No wonder Ayska turned from him. She probably felt something—no, he knew she felt something—but her guilt wouldn’t allow her heart’s desires. “I haven’t been making any progress. This whole damn journey has been one massive trap, and it’s about to spring. I’m afraid the High King’s already won.”
Sigrid sighed and considered Iron with her keen, sharp eyes. She brushed her thumb lightly over her robe’s collar and flashed an awkward, forced smile. “We have always faced long odds against Sol. When we lost our magic, we became little more than well-spoken cushions for sharpened swords. More than gods fell that night, Iron, and the serpents have worked tirelessly to turn the people against us ever since. The Six have fallen and their faithful are broken.”
More than enough people had suffered because of him. To think Ayska played him, played her own crew for a few coins. She told him she was a pirate. He just didn’t want to see that she was one until now. “I have to talk to her.”
“Be careful. We have examined what data we have, but you have no solid proof. I would suggest keeping your accusations private until you have that evidence.”
“There’s no time left, Sigrid. The constellations are almost in position.”
Ayska, how could you do this? Iron bowed his head and scowled at the dirt. He loved her. He had loved her. Now when he thought of her, he only saw the bloodied corpses of her crew slipping into the sea.
“You must still find the Burning Mother’s disciple. If anything, take comfort in the fact that Caspran won’t kill us until you do.”
“I have a feeling the disciple’s not as far away as you think,” he said.
“Perhaps. Do not give up yet. Do not let your anger and paranoia consume you. There is still hope left in the world. We may as of yet defeat the High King. Have faith.”
“Funny words coming from someone who trusts in data so much.”
“People are funny little contradictions that way. I do not claim to make sense, and I do not wish to. The day we lose our mystery is the day life loses its wonder.” She sighed and clasped her hands behind her. “If only we had our magic. Then, perhaps we could stand against the serpents. We are hopeless without it.”
“Yes. We are.” Iron turned to Sigrid and bowed. “Can we pause practice for the day?”
“We can do more than pause. You no longer need instruction on the Curious Count. I do not know how, but you have done in days what it takes most others years of intense training.”
“Thank you, Sigrid.” Iron turned to the shore and jogged toward the camp. He hadn’t spoken with Ayska since she pressed her blade against his throat. Days passed since then, and Iron needed the truth before the sandstorm settled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rift
Iron found Ayska on a flat rock jutting over the placid water. She huddled over Kalila, carefully cutting the woman’s matted hair. Over their long and arduous trip across Urum, Kalila’s hair had grown long and tangled and cried out for a good trim. Clumps of black fell like ash around the women and piled on the ledge.
Iron’s approach didn’t go unnoticed. The last of Kalila’s hair wafted to the ground. Her dull eyes fixed on him but didn’t reveal a hint of recognition. As he always did, he smiled, pausing where the ledge melted into the rocky shoreline.
The long walk there left him to his angry thoughts, each step he took cementing Ayska’s betrayal. His blood boiled even as he wiped his clammy palms against his chest and committed to his course.
Ayska glanced at him from the corner of her eye while she softly hummed. Iron swallowed and strolled toward them. “Your hair looks much better,” he told Kalila.
She blinked and looked away, eyes focused on the lake’s calm waters. Ayska’s gentle hum died, and she stood. She wiped Kalila’s errant hairs clinging to her skin and fixed a hard gaze on him. “My sister’s not stupid. She knows there’s something wrong between us and doesn’t like it.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Kalila slid from her spot and wandered from the rock. The woman held her hands against her chest and headed into the dark, making her way for the titan bones piled nearby. Iron and Ayska watched silently as Kalila vanished into the pale maze.
“Do you ever wonder how they died?” Ayska asked.
“They died in the war, like all the other titans.”
“No, not that. I mean, how they died here. What killed them?”
“Oh. Honestly, not really.”
“Their faith killed them. Look at those bodies, how they’re all piled up around that shrine of…of you. They huddled around it. I imagine they were praying when whatever took their lives did they deed.”
Don’t let her distract you. You know who she really is now. Just find a way to make her admit it so this can all be over.
“I know I hurt you,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was doing, Iron. Forgive me.”
He flinched at her words. “You’re forgiven.”
“So easily?”
“What else could I have expected? I’ve been hiding the truth from you all this time even as I told you I love you. You hate the Serpent and the Six. Isn’t that right?”
Her brows formed a wrinkled wedge. “Yes…”
Iron headed to the shore and paused on the loose rocks. “Walk with me.”
Stones clacked, rubbing together beneath their footsteps. Iron stared at the shadows swallowing the cavern’s ceiling. Not even Sigrid knew its height. Maybe the entire mountain was little more than a worn shell.
“How’s your training going?” she asked.
“Sigrid says I’ve mastered the Curious Count.”
Ayska’s eyes widened. “Even more quickly than you learned the Shining Step? You really are something.”
He smirked. Enough of the pleasantries. They only made their conversation more torturous. “Sigrid thinks the sandstorm will end soon. The alignment happens in a few days. I’ve got a feeling Caspran will be standing outside when it does, probably with the Mother’s priest as a hostage. I’m convinced he needs all of them gathered. That’s why we’ve survived this long. Isn’t it?”
Tension swamped the air, carried on his question. Iron slowed. Ayska stiffened. Her hand went to a braid swinging over her chest. “I don’t know, does he need us all?”
“He’s always on our trail. On Spineshell, he kept you and me and Sander alive and killed everyone else. He let us leave Athe. Don’t try and convince me otherwise because I know Batbayar’s explosive wouldn’t have killed that demon. Each time we stray or slow from our path, he shows up to prod us on like we’re a fucking greyhorn herd and he’s the shepherd. It’s like he knows just when to show up so he can keep us on schedule for the alignment. Don’t you think that’s just a little odd?”
A slip of her white teeth appeared as she bit her lower lip. Either she rummaged for a lie, or the realization of betrayal had dawned on her.
Giving her the benefit of the doubt? You already know it’s her. He wished that stupid voice would just shut the hells up.
“Someone we know serves the Serpent Sun.” Her eyes searched the ground. “I’d never thought it could be true. Who would betray us? It makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if you think about it.”
So she did think about it, and they walked in silence. Iron angled to the cavern wall and ran his hand along it, feeling the smooth stone kiss his fingertips. The granite rippled like the surface of the lake beside it. Maybe caves like this existed in other unexplored places, brimming with bones and shrines and forgotten histories. Places like this must exist. He suspected they waited in Ker, and behind the Everfrosts, or in the wilds beyond the eastern kingdoms of Blail and Hine. Maybe whole new continents wait beyond the Churning Ocean for the ship that could withstand its violent waters.
Ay
ska pulled one of Batbayar’s exploding gourds from her vest. She tossed it, caught it, and stared at the object with a deep frown.
Iron’s heart nearly stopped. He snatched the gourd and stepped away. “Why do you have this? If this exploded in here, it would bury all of us.”
“I happened to ask Batbayar for it. If Caspran does show up again, it might be the only way to slow him down. Give it back.” She wagged her hand at him, palm open. “He’ll give you one too if you ask. We all should have at least one just in case.”
Or she’s planning on using it on the others while Caspran captures me for the king, he thought.
No, it wasn’t possible Ayska could be so evil. Still…
He tossed the gourd to her and plastered on a smile. After she caught it, he kept his hand resting on Fang’s grip. “At least you’re prepared if he does.”
“I like to prepare for any situation. You know that.”
“I do.”
Dammit, just tell her. Are you such a coward, you’d put the others in danger? Do you have to wait until you watch Caspran kill these friends, too? You have proof enough. Out with it!
“Ayska, why’d you come talk to me at the tavern in Ormhild?”
Her stride dwindled to a standstill, and they both turned to one another. “I already told you. I picked up on your awful Rabwian. From there it was just…fate.”
“You and I both know it wasn’t just fate.”
Her jaw flexed, and she cocked her head. “Iron what are you—” Her eyes hardened. Then, they burned. “Are you suggesting I’m the one who’s betrayed us? Our encounter was chance. I was the first gods damned champion of your stupid broken circle to be found! And…and my friends. You seriously think I had them killed?”
“No, don’t start that. Don’t use them.”
“Use them?” Her fist flashed into his vision and slammed against his jaw.
Iron spun into the wall with a grunt. It was cool and moist against his cheek—a welcome opposite against his burning chin. Ayska’s hands gripped his shoulders and jerked him from the wall. Her eyes glimmered like polished glass. “Screw you, Iron. After everything we’ve been through, you think I’m the one who’s let it happen? You think I really had Vigal and the others murdered?”
She had him in a steel grip, and he was merely Iron. She’d always been made of stronger stuff than him, but that didn’t stop Iron’s anger from grabbing hold of his tongue. “He’s been on us since the beginning, Ayska, and you’ve been here since it. You’re the only one. The only one!”
“I wasn’t the only one. The others were taken from me. Taken from me because of you. I stood by you, and here you are accusing me of betrayal when you’re the one who’s been keeping secrets.” Her tears came freely now, drawing polished lines down her cheeks. “Telling you I loved you was the was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Telling you we couldn’t love each other killed what little good was left in me. But I did it to keep you safe. I did it to keep you safe, you bastard!”
“You have to see how this looks. And then you pull out that—that—explosive! Everything that has happened points to you betraying us, Ayska. It does.” He tightened his jaw, his nostrils swelling and heart sealing. “You know it does.”
She released him and backed away, shaking her head only slightly. “You’re right, it does.” She whipped her arms wide and shrugged. “So what’re you going to do about it? Why don’t you just kill me, Iron. Take your awful little sword and stick it through my chest. If I’m such a danger to you, then do it.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists. A long silence persisted between them. “I can’t kill you,” he said. “I won’t. The circle is broken.”
“And only blood and fire seals it,” she snapped, quoting the Father’s Lament. “You can have your blood if you want to take it. I thought by turning you away, I’d save you. Instead, I’ve turned you into me. We’ll never stop Sol together, will we? Never.”
“Just admit it, Ayska. Admit what you’ve done.”
“I’ve been such a fool. That’s the only thing I’ve got to admit to you.”
No more words passed from her lips. Her feet echoed through the cavern as she sprinted away.
Every sign, every fact, every observation pointed to her. Ayska had betrayed them. She wanted them dead and him captured. Iron stared at his palms. Long lines and rough callouses formed a map of the life he’d led trying to mend a broken circle of gods he despised.
Why did he hate the gods? They made a mistake, those young days of creation when they feared their brother and cast him out, using his power as a seed that blossomed into the first titans. In a way, they tried to heal him by creating something from him. Instead, they made a monster—no, two monsters—and sparked a war that spun in cycles like a wagon wheel upturned in a storm.
At the moment, Iron realized he’d done the same. Trying to make something better, he made everything worse, and the wheel spun ever faster.
Days passed in bitter monotony until at last, the storm settled. It didn’t end abruptly or announce its death to them. No, it ended with a whisper and a whoosh, stirring Iron from his slumber with little more than a low sigh. He blinked sleep from his eyes. A small fire smoldered nearby. Sigrid stood at the tunnel leading outside, staring into the darkness. Kalila stood beside her and rubbed her knuckles while she mumbled something only she could understand.
He rolled out of bed and tiptoed to them. When Sigrid noticed his arrival, she nodded. “The storm’s ended and the day has come. Fortuitous. Or disastrous. I cannot say which.”
She didn’t need to explain. They all knew what occurred today. “The alignment.”
“Indeed. The count doesn’t lie. This is the day the Six’s stars form a line across the sky.”
“The Burning Mother’s priest is out there. I know it. Whoever they are, we’ll find them today.”
Sigrid clasped her hands behind her, rocking on her heels. “Perhaps, but we have—” she cleared her throat and shot a glance at Kalila. “—We have another problem.”
Iron’s hopes diminished as a pit of dread opened in his stomach. “What is it now?”
“The Loyal Father’s disciple seems to have gone missing.”
“Ayska?” Iron’s heart fluttered as Kalila moaned. He twisted to the greyhorns mulling at the shoreline and counted the beasts. One was missing. “Shit. How long’s she been gone?”
“What’s wrong?” Sander asked. He hopped up from his bed and rolled his shoulders. Nephele and the others stirred with the sound of his voice.
“It is difficult to say. The storm ended while we slept so it could be minutes or hours. I fear the circumstances of her flight don’t bode well for us. You should not have confronted her without solid proof.”
“I was mad. I wasn’t thinking. Hells, I’ve been such an idiot—dumb as elk dung—and now everything might be falling apart.”
“What in the Sinner’s shadow are you talking about?” Sander asked. He rubbed his eyes and peered into the tunnel.
“Ayska has fled the mountain,” Sigrid said.
Sander groaned. “Well that’s not good. What could’ve made her storm off?”
Sigrid arched a brow at Iron. Sander’s eyes narrowed. “Iron, what did you do?”
Iron spun to the greyhorns. His mount watched him with a gaze that held little passion for much of anything besides grazing. “We’ve got to find her before the alignment.”
“The desert is a big place,” Sander said. “We can’t just split up and hope one of us finds her. We only stand a chance together.”
“I don’t think we need to split up.” Iron turned his attention to Kalila. “I think she’ll take us right to her.”
“Good thinking. That woman’s always got a read on her, that’s for sure.” Sander trotted toward the greyhorns, whistling sharply at Batbayar. “Wake up, you fat old Kerran. We’ve got a wayward priestess to find.
As Iron stared into the pinprick of daylight shining in the black, a chill crep
t up his spine. Today, the fate of Urum hung in the balance. No, it rested in his hands, and without Ayska beside him, the world didn’t have a chance.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Loyal One
The titan mountain slowly shrank against the horizon as Kalila led them into the Simmering Sands. The sandstorm laid once mighty dunes low, flattening an undulating sea of sand into a rippled sheet of loose cinnamon. Their greyhorns trotted behind Kalila’s, the beast making good time over the sands and happy to stretch its legs. The woman gripped the animal’s coat with whitened knuckles, leaning forward, eyes ever focused forward.
Iron trailed behind her. Why did these damned beasts travel so slowly? Horses could move much faster than the lumbering greyhorns, but even the lowest horse breeds demanded a princely sum and attracted the serpents’ eyes.
“She’ll be fine,” Sander said. “Ayska’s strong, probably stronger than the rest of us. We’ll find her and seal the circle before dawn. Trust the gods.”
Iron jumped at his master’s voice. The man angled his greyhorn beside Iron’s and flashed a warm smile. Wind had blown his grey-streaked hair in ragged tendrils from his brow. Dark circles ringed his eyes while deep lines etched the telltale signs of worry on his face.
“Thank you, master. I just—I’m anxious. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”
“I can’t blame you, really. If it was me, I’d have done the same. Who else but Ayska could have betrayed us to the High King?”
Iron’s heart lurched into his throat, and he clenched the greyhorn’s fur. “So you know I accused her of being a spy?”
“We all thought it. Nephele and I discussed the possibility several times. Too many coincidences peppered our journey. The alp are powerful, but they’re not almighty.”
“It was wrong of me to blame her without proof.”