by AB Bradley
“Sometimes, we don’t have time to collect the evidence. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn’t. Wronger still she was for running away once the storm faded.”
“None of us have been models of virtue.”
Silence settled over them, and for a few long minutes, only greyhorn snorts and hoof stomps broke the quiet. Iron bit his lip and turned to his master. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You’ve done so much for me for so long, and I’ve repaid you with anger and bitterness. You raised me better than that.”
Sander blinked at the blazing sun already inching toward dusk and smacked his lips. “It’s not totally surprising. I’ve kept your birth, your family, a secret from you. It’s hard to know that the man who raised you also knows the truth but won’t tell you.”
“But you said lie to save a life.”
“Yes, I lie to save a life. Know that your master will do whatever it takes to save his apprentice.”
Iron took a deep breath. “And your apprentice will do whatever it takes to make his master proud. I love you…Father.”
Sander’s jaw flexed. He smiled, blinked and nodded at Iron. “And I love you too.” He sucked in a breath and wiped his face. “Damned sands always getting in my eyes.”
“Uh-huh. Sands indeed. I didn’t know my master had such a delicate heart! You soft old elk.”
“Elk? Hah! I think you’ll see I’ve still got a little of the snow leopard’s claws left.” Sander patted the greyhorn’s neck. “We’ll do this Iron. Somehow, we will.”
“Sealing the circle in a few hours seems like long shot. We’ve got no clue where the Mother’s priest could be.”
“Have faith. We’ll find this priest and put the fear of the Six into Sol.”
That was Sander, stuck to his faith like a tongue on frozen steel. Even if Iron failed, and even if they all died, at least he could die knowing he found the courage to tell the man his true feelings.
What little glimmer of hope that sparked within his heart faded when Kalila began weeping. Iron urged his greyhorn next to hers. The beast halted as she pointed to the horizon. Iron squinted and peered into the distance. Above the flat, blurred skyline, a dark cloud squirmed like an angry snake. Caspran’s flock awaited. So would Ayska. So would the alp, and, if Iron was right, the Mother’s champion.
“Come on, Kalila.” Iron kicked his greyhorn, and it lurched into a gallop. “Ayska, we’re coming!”
The greyhorn screeched, skidding to a halt in a flurry of hot sand. A setting sun bloodied the dome of blue. Screeches carried on the cooling wind slid their harsh cries beneath Iron’s skin. He grasped for the mount’s fur, but the bucking greyhorn kicked him to the sands before he could secure his hold.
Iron hit the desert with an oomph. One hoof slammed into the ground inches from his head. He rolled to the side as the other hoof smashed where he’d lain a moment before. The greyhorn cried and spun around, tearing away from the flock. Not even greyhorns could stand those maddened creatures wheeling in an enormous circle in the sky.
And what a circle they were. The ring they formed could easily crown an Everfrost peak and then some. Iron leapt to his feet, coughing sand, and raced for them. Behind him, the others jumped from their mounts and followed. Amidst the wild birdcalls, Sander screamed his name.
Unlike his other encounters with the birds, the flock didn’t come for him. They waited, wheeling in their wild ring, waiting for Iron. He pounded up a small dune—the only kind remaining after the sandstorm’s destruction—and skidded to a halt. He ripped Fang from the sheath, and its calming light washed across his arm.
A gale rocketed through his hair. In the distance, two figures waited on sands flattened by a mysterious wind billowing from the form clad in white. The other figure’s braids fluttered like flags around her shoulders. Terror, raw and wild, ignited Iron’s blood. He launched from the dune, heedless of anything but those two splotches against the grains.
“Ayska!” Iron’s throat burned from his roar. “Ayska!”
Like a curtain falling, the swifts descended on the desert. They formed a fluttering, flapping cyclone from the sand to the sky, racing in an ever-turning wheel around Iron, Ayska, and Caspran. The birds’ shrill cries muted Sander’s voice, but Iron hardly noticed.
He squeezed Fang’s grip. Caspran raised a palm and shook his head. Iron knew what that sign meant. He halted, kicking a wave of sand before him, breaths coming out in hot huffs and sweat dripping from the hair plastered to his brow.
“Welcome, Fireborn,” Caspran called. Silvery shards fluttered from his pale clothes. The razors took up residence in a slow circle behind him, a vicious halo for a demon priest.
“Let her go, Caspran. This is between you and me, not her.”
Caspran chuckled and casually rammed his fist into her stomach. Ayska collapsed in a choked gasp, her knees biting sand. The alp gripped her train of braids, yanking her chin high. “You came so close to your goal, didn’t you? You were never really going to make it though. The Serpent Sun has always been seven steps ahead of where you are, even though we appeared behind.”
“Ayska! Are you hurt?” Iron focused on her and ignored him. “Tell me you’re okay!”
“What are you doing here?” She trembled, pressing her palms onto the ground. “You should’ve stayed behind. I—I betrayed you, Iron. You were right. I betrayed you.”
Iron’s world lost its color. He stepped back as his grip on Fang loosened. “What? That’s impossible. I was wrong. I was…wrong.”
“Were you?” Caspran asked. He snapped, and a gold glimmer fluttered from Ayska’s vest. “You must have wondered how I always knew just where to find you and when.”
The serpent coin floated into his palm. Then, he flipped it to Iron’s feet. “A gift of mine to her as she smuggled you from Ormhild if you recall. Try as she might to cling to her divine morals, a human will always be a pitiful human. Gold is the only real thing you worship.”
The coin. It made so much sense now. Iron cursed his idiocy. Ayska never betrayed him. The coin had, and she carried it unknowingly. “How could I not have realized? Ayska, I’m so sorry. It was never your fault. I should have known!”
“Idiot bay gull, why did you follow me?” Tears mixed with sand and drew dark lines down her cheeks. “I tried to lead him away from you.”
“You should’ve known I’d never let you get far without me.”
“You’re both so touching.” The alp sighed and yanked her braids. Ayska cried out. Iron charged forward. Caspran raised his palm again, and Iron stopped.
“Good boy,” Caspran hissed.
“Why let us go through all this? Why not just take me and kill them then?”
“Because Sol wants the Six crushed. If I’d just killed one or two of them, new champions would rise up. Kill all of you now when the Six’s stars align and no new champions will come to your aid. They will be a memory and you will be alone.” Caspran cocked his head. “To fight is folly. Accept the Serpent. He is the new Six. You cannot battle destiny any more than a leaf can fight a hurricane.”
“I told you once to let her go. I won’t say it again.”
“And why should I follow orders from a roach like you?”
“Because I know you can’t kill me. Sol wants me alive.”
“What is so special about you that my High King would want you so? You are merely human. I tested your skills and found them laughably lacking. This slave of yours put up a better fight than you did.”
The alp threw back his hood, revealing a sharp jaw framing scarlet lips, skin purer than an Everfrost snow, and amber irises wreathing black beads. His long hair whirled like a wraith’s wildly around him, the silver shards that formed his deadly halo circling at ever-greater speeds.
Adrenaline-tinged terror raced through Iron’s blood. He resisted the urge to stumble back, swallowing instead.
“Talk to me, Fireborn! Tell me what makes you so special!” Caspran raised his hand, and the silver razors migrated to his wri
st where they spun like some kind of hungry creature’s maw, eager for flesh. Ayska’s flesh. Iron’s flesh. Caspran straightened and puffed his chest. The alp grinned and flashed sharpened fangs.
Iron knew that smile. He recognized those eyes. He’d seen these fangs in the fangs of the black wolf in the Everfrosts. He’d glared into those hateful amber eyes as they charged hungrily for him in a field of downy snow.
“Yes, Fireborn, it is me.” Caspran took a step forward and licked his lips. “It’s always been me. I’ve waited long for this day. I was there at your birth, you see. I saw your mother’s death. I watched her scream. I watched her plead for her life like the lowly whore she was.”
Caspran’s words were thorns tightening around his heart. A hint of truth colored them; but Iron also sniffed a lie. “This isn’t about my mother, alp. Like I said, this is about us. Come fight me if you think your faith is strong enough.” His knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip on Fang.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Never.”
“The Serpent needs you, Fireborn. Come with me and be treated as a royal guest in my master’s home. Do this, and I will spare the others. There is no need for them to die if I have you.”
“No!” Ayska lurched forward, still on her knees. “Iron you can’t—”
Caspran grabbed her braids and hurled her back. “Quiet, slave, and learn your place.”
How easily Caspran hurt her. How easily he would murder her while Iron watched. He glanced over his shoulder. The swifts circled in such a thick wall of screams and sand he saw nothing beyond them.
“The sun is setting,” Casper reminded him. “Better make your decision fast or she’s the first to go. It will be painful for her as I bury a razor in her belly, listen to her cry and wail as the blade slowly slices her innards into mush.”
Iron slumped. He stared at Fang. Whatever secret power it contained, he would not wield it. “I accept.”
And this would be the end of things then. He clenched the wall of his teeth and strode forward.
Ayska struggled to her hands and knees and glared at Iron with fury in those deep pools of her eyes. “No, Iron. I won’t let you do this. You swore a Sinner’s Oath to me.”
No. The magic sparked by her words chilled him. He halted, jaw going slack. “Ayska, stop…”
“I won’t! He took them from me. He tore us apart. He’ll kill the rest of us once he has you. I can’t let that happen. He took everything from me, and I won’t stop until his life is taken from him. You swore a Sinner’s Oath of vengeance.”
Caspran clucked and grinned bemusedly at Iron. “A Sinner’s Oath? Unbreakable, if I recall. Faith is such a powerful thing, Fireborn. I suppose I have mistaken which of you truly is the slave.”
“Please, Ayska,” Iron said, raising a hand toward her. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“You swore a Sinner’s Oath to me.” Her arms quivered. Sweat stained her beautiful brow. “You swore this oath, and I do not hold it fulfilled! You will not go quietly to High King Sol. You will not!”
“As long as we both have tomorrow, there is a chance. I haven’t broken my word. I would never. I could never.” Tears polished his vision. “Please.”
Ayska’s tortured face calmed. “I love you, Iron. I would be broken without you by my side. Destroy the king. You promised me this. I won’t hold you to another oath…” She reached into her tunic. “…But if you ever truly loved me, you’ll keep my sister safe and do what I could not.”
Ayska ripped Batbayar’s explosive into the open. Her knuckles whitened as she crushed the gourd. Caspran’s gaze shifted to her. His eyes widened with recognition. “Whore, what do you think you’re doing?”
Like a lion on an unsuspecting elk, she sprang in a flurry of sand. Ayska plowed the gourd into Caspran’s screaming jaws. She spun him around, using her leg to trip the startled priest. Caspran flattened on the sand as she fell on top of him.
Iron screamed and charged forward.
“I love you, Iron,” she cried. “I won’t let me destroy you. Stop Sol. I know you can.”
The air erupted in flame and fire. An invisible wall smashed against Iron’s chest and flung him over the sand. He slammed against the ground and ate sand as his world twisted into chaos.
He blinked. The world spun. Iron coughed, but not even the screaming swifts could pierce the high-pitched whine assaulting his ears.
Smoke rose in trails from his clothes, and his skin burnt in patches on his cheeks and arms. Somehow, he still gripped his sword. Iron lay on his back, staring at the swirling sky watching from beyond the feathery ring. What happened? Where was he? The stars, the sky held so many of them. Countless stars. The Mother’s constellation. The Father’s beside it. And now, Ayska was among them.
He pressed his hand against his chest and winced. Memory returned. Ayska. No, no, no, no, no!
Iron rolled to his hands and knees. He straightened, but even that simple motion wracked him with pain. Two figures lay crumpled on the sand in a mixture of embers, smoke, and blood. The whine in his ears receded, and the swifts’ formation disintegrated as they raced away.
Sand singed his palms as he crawled over the smoldering desert. “Ayska,” he rasped. “Ayska!”
She’d died. She’d died for vengeance and shattered the circle forever. His love, his light, she’d taken her life for revenge, and now true vengeance would never be had. How could she be so selfish? How could you leave me all alone?
He reached their bodies and kicked Caspran’s out of the way. The alp absorbed most of the blast. Black and blistered flesh melted against his exposed jawbone. His femur jutted from his thigh. The priest’s blood coated Iron in all its slick red glory.
Deep burns covered half of Ayska’s face. Smoke rose from the acrid braids smoldering over her shoulder. The right eye would never open again. The other cracked apart, revealing the bleary light fading within it. “Iron, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” He cradled her and rocked as his teardrops splattered on her cheek. “Why did you do it? I would have stopped him without this, Ayska. Why did you have to sacrifice yourself?”
“I had to do something. I didn’t before…” She coughed, and blood spotted her lips. Her good hand caressed his temple down to his chin. “…Forgive me. I was never the one you wanted. I…I was selfish. You…you can fix things now, but you have to do what I couldn’t. You have to forgive.”
“The circle is broken now, Ayska.” He cupped her head and pressed his brow to hers. “How can I ever stop Sol without you?”
“You’re wrong, Iron. The circle…isn’t…broken.”
As life slipped from her so did her sense. She’d become delirious.
Her grip tightened on his chin. “Forgive. That is the key. Forgive. I was…I was never the one.” Her bleary eye shifted to the side. “Protect her where I could not. She is—”
Ayska’s hand fell to the sand. Her sigh washed across his mouth. He pressed his lips to hers and cried.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Spoken Words
Ayska’s corpse stared into a sky freshly studded with twinkling stars. They reflected in her empty good eye and polished the tear stains on her cheeks. The woman Iron loved was no more, a once vibrant soul now dispatched into the heavens by an act of desperate sacrifice.
Iron closed her eye and kissed her brow. I will remember you always, and I vow that the world will never forget you. We will meet again at the Mother’s table, Ayska.
His rough hands clasped her sweaty temple. The world had lost something precious that night. A fierce warrior. A consummate guardian. A hero for those who had none. A sister, a daughter, a lover—a light now extinguished. Iron prayed to the Mother to find Ayska’s soul, to bring her the peace that eluded her in life. Even if the gods had fallen, perhaps some part of them remained to keep good souls from falling into oblivion.
Caspran’s cough jolted Iron from his wet sorrow and transmuted it to boili
ng rage. Using Fang’s scabbard as a prop, he steadied his shaking legs and twisted to the creature on Urum he loathed with every drop of blood coursing through him. The alp rolled away like a tumbleweed in a strong wind. His pale straps coalesced around him like snakes slithering up a burnt and broken tree. Cloth enveloped the blistered flesh oozing bloody tongues onto the desert. As his trappings masked his body, that sloughing, simmering slop of skin and muscle faded into hale and healthy porcelain.
The alp wobbled to his feet, coughing drops of crimson onto the cinnamon grains crunching beneath his weight. Caspran’s right femur speared through his thigh with a jagged end. His left forearm shattered near the wrist, and his hand hung at a nauseating right angle. His head lolled to the side, the broken neck once supporting it showing ridges just beneath the skin. Those amber eyes gazed at Iron with a witch’s brew of humor and rage.
Iron heaved, staggering to his feet. He pointed Fang at the alp and clenched his teeth into a wall. “You bastard.” Iron stumbled forward. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Your little slave bitch couldn’t. What makes you think you and that pathetic piece of junk in your hand will do the deed?” Caspran grinned. Blood trickled from his lips, and his tongue promptly swiped it back into his mouth. “An oath to a dead god is as hollow as a Goshgonoi drum. You remember those, don’t you?” His words solicited another sharp laugh. “What power can your oath have when the Sinner no longer watches Urum? This is the Serpent’s land now, and his Sun rises. The Loyal Father’s champion is dead, and soon, your friends will join her.”
The bone in Caspran’s leg sunk into his fleshy thigh. His shattered forearm straightened with a few sickening crunches. The alp grabbed his lopsided head and straightened it with a crack before rolling his shoulders like he’d just finished a light morning run.
Iron hobbled back. A cold line of sweat snaked between his shoulder blades. “There must be a way to kill you. You’re not immortal. It’s not possible, dammit!”
“Nothing is impossible through the Serpent’s power or by his grace. His is the true faith, the worthy faith. You have failed, Fireborn. I’ve shattered the circle. There will be no others blessed by the Loyal Father or any other who remain. You can never return the Six to power now.” He offered a hand and wagged his fingers. “Come with me. Let go of your silly Sinner’s Oath. His magic has gone from Urum. It is only your misbegotten faith that binds you.”