Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Wolf

  He tried to hide a toothy smile of his own.

  “You are learning,” she said. “I’ve never seen that form. Where did you…?”

  “Another life,” he replied.

  “Impressive,” she said, but she didn’t look impressed with her red ringlets curling around her smug face. She sounded as impressed as if the sun had decided to rise in the morning. “But you must not always rely on your forms.”

  Gray nodded. “I’ve heard as much before, but it’s hard.” Mura had told him that… Thoughts of the hermit made his heart clench, but he stuffed them down. Knowing Mura was safer with Karil than with him was a comfort, a small one, but a comfort nonetheless.

  “Then whoever told you was wise. Forms are but a tool. They will work sometimes, but other times you must simply give into instinct. Besides, all things have flaws…” she said and gestured with her eyes downwards. Something tapped his thigh. Between his legs, he saw Faye’s blade.

  He swallowed. “But I still won. My attack is more deadly,” he insisted.

  “Interesting opinion,” she remarked, “I doubt all men would see it the same. But who was quicker?” she asked and Gray realized he hadn’t seen her blade at all. “Ask yourself, if I was, would yours even hit? And is it a risk you’d be willing to take again?”

  Gray growled, pressing back. He leapt at her, flowing from form to form, faster and faster, more and more aggressive. Vixen’s Revenge. He blocked upwards, and then struck down. She parried easily.

  Faye held his parry and barked, “You are stronger than this. Show me!”

  She thrust his sword away and chopped from both sides. The Breeze Flows East. He ducked, rolling to the side. When he looked up, she was there. So fast! He dipped his head again, but her dagger clipped his ear. He snarled, shoving down the pain, and launched into a series of attacks, blade crashing down upon her, using all his strength. Steel met steel, ringing into the open desert, but she seemed unaffected. He continued to hammer down, and she flowed backward, blade meeting his at every angle.

  She leapt back and aimed her sword at him. “Your weakness is not in your muscles, Gray,” she stated. “This is your next lesson: you were limited by Daerval, but you are limited no longer. You must give in to your powers and to the magic of Farhaven. We are all made of the elements around us. Give into those elements. Let them give you strength.”

  Gray hesitated but didn’t argue. He took a deep breath, letting the magic in the air flow into him, giving him life and power. His limbs felt lighter than before, his steps almost buoyant. Exhilarated by the sensation, he charged again. This time his blows were different. They became heavier, stronger. Faye grunted as he hammered down. Elation and triumph filled him. Through the blur of weapons, he saw her wisp of a smile and felt her satisfaction. And then…

  Faye twisted, redirecting Morrowil. She cut to his neck and thrust to his belly. Gray couldn’t block both and he moved to leap back, when her foot smashed down upon his. Her blades raced and she froze, a breath away.

  She had won.

  Gray’s world returned. He dropped to one knee—exhausted. How long had they been fighting? He realized he was sweating profusely. It soaked his clothes and matted his long hair to his face, and he tasted salt upon his lips. Faye, on the other hand, wasn’t even breathing hard. How could that be? She was just too strong.

  Calmly, she nodded and sheathed both weapons. “Enough training for today,” she announced. “You’ve learned much.”

  Frustration rose inside Gray as he eyed her back. “No,” he cursed quietly and she stopped without turning. Nearby, Ayva and Darius watched. They had witnessed the whole thing he knew, and he felt weak, all over again, weak like he had been when he didn’t understand his power and the darkness inside of him. Weak like when he’d been chased and nearly killed without knowing why, when his home and life with Mura had simply been shattered in an instant, leaving him alone and frightened. He tried to silence his insecurities, but his teeth ground in rising frustration. He hadn’t realized how much his confidence relied on him being the one who was strong and in control. What was he now? “I’ve learned only that you’re too fast. If a Devari has half the skill you have, I won’t have a chance. Sure I got you once, but how often can I rely on remembering ancient moves?”

  Faye twisted. Her light brown eyes glinted dangerously. “You think I am fast? I am nothing. I am stronger than you certainly, and many others, and perhaps I can even take an average Devari, but there are plenty of others much faster and stronger than I.”

  “What is a Devari anyway?” Darius asked, sitting by the pond and playing with a handful of sand.

  “Warriors who wield the ki,” Faye answered.

  “Well that’s helpful,” Darius said sarcastically, “but mind explaining it to someone who isn’t from this land?”

  “What’s the ki?” Ayva asked politely, making Gray raise a brow.

  “It is empathy at a whole new level. The ki is the ability to understand someone’s feelings so deeply that the line between two bodies blurs.” Darius made a yakking sound but Faye ignored him. “The ki was said to once exist in all humans but was lost over the ages. No one knows how or why, but it is speculated that we broke from it when we made kingdoms and sought division over unity, greed over love.” She scoffed. “Not that I believe that load of horsedung, but the fact remains that only Devari wield the ki now. And some of them can wield it stronger than others.”

  “Some?” Gray asked.

  She looked north, as if seeing the Citadel in the distance. Gray had a flashing image of a black keep. It was Kirin’s memory. “I’ve heard of one in particular. Before I left Farbs there were whispers of a new Devari.”

  “The Devari have leaders?” he asked. “I thought they were simply guardians of the Citadel and protectors of Reavers.”

  “It is rare,” she admitted, “Devari are brothers. There are no real ranks among them, save for their leader. The last one died years ago. I remember it clear as day.”

  Something inside Gray stung and Kirin wailed. Then, just as suddenly, the voice turned silent as if disappearing into a dark abyss. What was that about? he wondered.

  Faye continued, “But there hasn’t been a Devari strong enough to take the position. Until this man.”

  Gray hesitated. “Strong enough? Is there some sort of test?”

  “You could say that. It’s a trial of strength, willpower, and skill that breaks many a man who attempts it,” she said. “To become their leader you must be able to defeat twenty Devari in battle.” Twenty? Gray gawked and Faye continued, “Devari have been around for thousands of years, since the very Citadel was founded, but it is a feat only few have ever achieved.”

  “You mean this man…”

  “He would make me look like a fumbling child,” she replied.

  Gray shivered. Were there others who could rival the Ronin? How could he possibly defeat someone like that? No, there was no one stronger than Kail, or so the stories said. But Gray knew he was no Kail. Not yet, at least. The man had lived a thousand lives of men… He had a long way to go. Thinking of Kail made him think of that look the legend had worn before Gray had transported into the center of Death’s Gate, when he had accepted his ultimate fate: to slay the Ronin. He still remembered the legend’s face, a look in his eyes as if he held a secret. As if his death wasn’t truly the end. Gray glanced over his shoulder at Ayva and Darius.

  “Be satisfied with your progress today,” Faye said firmly, drawing him back to the moment. “You may not be a Devari yet, but you learn quickly. Before we are done, I will make you into one, or, if I can, something better…”

  Gray nodded, excited and a little afraid. Something better? he wondered. Faye walked past Ayva and Darius. She said something quietly to Ayva, and Gray thought he heard a word on the breeze. Diaon? What could that mean?

  A Duel for Honor

  THEY MOVED THROUGH THE BRIGHT DAY, making progress. So far, it was a peaceful day, promising a respite from the
chaos of the past few days. Faye felt alone with only the dogged sun above burning like a golden flame, and her web of troubled thoughts.

  Well, if not for that stubborn girl…

  Again, she answered Ayva’s questions until her throat grew dry from talking or until Ayva failed to answer a question correctly. Silence was her punishment for now, and for the girl, it was clearly the greatest of punishments as she sat sullenly in her saddle. They moved past a bumpy patch of sand when, suddenly, there was a cry. Faye twisted, looking behind.

  She tensed.

  Gray knelt on the ground, spear points a hair from his head as a full circle of tan-clothed men stood around him, yelling angrily. Sand still sluiced, falling from their slender frames. The fool rogue lay unmoving in the sand. His cormac made a bemoaned sound somewhere between a neigh and whimper, nuzzling its rider, while Gray’s Elvin beast watched the exchange placidly. A man taller than the rest stood closest. At his side, two tan-clothed men held small bows aimed directly at her. Their skin was caramel in color, and they had dark eyes and black curly hair.

  “Algasi,” she cursed.

  “What is going on?” Ayva whispered fearfully. “Where in the seven hells did they come from?”

  Faye cursed her own foolishness, seeing the disturbed pocket of sand nearby. They had been lying in wait until they had left the Node. Algasi warriors were legendary, and their patience was equally renowned. “Has siwth sun reggal sith tu vi ren nus,” she said smoothly.

  The tall man with broad shoulders eyed her uncertainly. All she could see were his white-gray eyes as his face was hidden behind a white cloth mask. He was the only big one of the tribe. Algasi were small, slender people, but they moved like sand serpents. She knew she could not reach her daggers or sword before they cut Gray down, if not all four of them. At last, he spoke, “Regar.” She had asked to be released for they were only “simple travelers”. No was his answer. She doubted he believed her.

  “Tell him we mean no harm,” Gray said. Immediately, the spears pressed tighter to his throat, stopping him from speaking. He swallowed, raising his hands higher in submission.

  “I tried that,” Faye answered flatly. There was only one move now. Ever so slowly, she drew back her dust-cloak. The leader of the Algasi watched. Still moving as if through quicksand, she pulled off her crossbow and threw it down. Then her daggers. Then her sword.

  “What are you doing?” Ayva whispered in a fierce undertone.

  She replied through her teeth, keeping her eyes forward. “Put down your little dagger, and perhaps they will let us go.”

  “And if they don’t let us go?”

  “Then they will capture us as prisoners and use us as target practice for their younger ones in training.” The girl hesitated, reading her eyes and seeing she was not joking.

  Ayva growled. “Does everything in this cursed land have to try to kill us? I refuse. We cannot be prisoners!”

  “You have no choice.”

  “That’s the difference between you and I,” Ayva said in a low but heated voice. “We always have a choice.” At the words, she felt the girl’s heat. Such anger, but how is that possible? Faye wondered. No, she must be imagining things—heat exhaustion surely. Ayva dismounted her cormac and approached their leader slowly with her hands raised.

  Gray tensed nearby but couldn’t move.

  “What are you doing?” Faye shouted. “Stop!” Ayva ignored her. Still, she kept her dagger hidden, but the Algasi were no fools. “Girl, move no further. They will slit you from ear to ear! Let me talk to them, I—”

  She felt sudden warmth burning her throat. The dryness of the desert? Her throat went numb, words falling short. At the same time, the Algasi leader held up his hand, stopping Ayva’s advance. “Do as I say, Faye. Translate this.”

  The burning abated and she spoke. “My name is Ayva. We mean no harm. Simply give us back our friends, and we will be on our way. Take what you will from us, but know that we have little but our lives.”

  Faye translated.

  The man didn’t smile, but a twitch creased his lips for a moment. “Dalic un savas. U suroth sel es, Ayva.” With a knuckle, he tapped his forehead and then his broad chest. It was an Algasi greeting, a rare privilege. Algasi found power in names and did not give them out freely, much like elves. He continued. “Du sa vi aruni al Algasi. Sun suh to morla. Murs u tal in ni sutin. Se suh tu swahala.”

  Faye translated. “Dalic is my name. I see your light, Ayva. But that is not the way of the Algasi. We must take something of worth. These are our lands and you have trespassed. There must be a price.”

  “Then take me,” Ayva said.

  Faye looked at the girl calmly.

  “Faye, do not translate that!” Gray said then choked as a spear jabbed him.

  “Don’t worry, Gray,” the girl said, and then looked at Faye, a fierce intelligence in her blue eyes. “I don’t plan on going, but it’s clear they value strength. Say it, and see his response.”

  Faye sighed but translated. The man listened, his white-gray eyes hard. At last he spoke and she echoed his words. “Full of fire and light indeed, as if Algasi blood flows through you. But what you say makes no sense. What stops us from taking all of you?” Faye snorted. “I told you. They know they have the upper hand. This is what I was trying to avoid.”

  Ayva watched the ground and then twisted, as if suddenly remembering. “Challenge him to an Honor Duel.”

  Faye laughed. The sound made Dalic’s eyes narrow, and the other Algasi shifted uneasily on their feet, gripping their spears. She knew they were a breath away from spilling their blood upon the sand. She lowered her voice. “Are you mad? They will kill you before you can blink. Then they will kill all of us.”

  “Me?” Ayva lifted a thin brow. Faye hesitated, catching on. “You see, if I recall from what I read and what you told me, Algasi are the ones who will choose their opponent, and they always choose the strongest. If I’m correct, that means they’ll choose you.”

  Again Faye laughed, but she kept it under her breath. Cursing herself for teaching that fool girl, Faye couldn’t help but be impressed. At least I taught her well. “What makes you think I’ll agree to that?”

  “You don’t have to, but it’s our only option unless you have a better idea…?” Faye tried to think of one but admitted inwardly that she didn’t. Ayva continued, “An Honor Duel grants the victor freedom and one request.”

  “What makes you think I can win?”

  Ayva shrugged. “I didn’t say you could.”

  Nearby, she saw Gray watching tensely, obviously craving to speak, but surrounded by the fearsome sand people, he was forced into silence while the fool rogue remained unconscious.

  “You plan to kill me off so quickly?” Faye asked.

  “No, but if you are as strong as you claim you are, well, then perhaps you have a chance.” Ayva nodded to a nearby Algasi, a man like the others with black curly hair, brown skin, and a hooked nose. Oddly enough, the warrior had only one arm. A clever smile crossed Ayva’s face. “Besides, just because they choose the strongest of us, doesn’t mean you have to choose the strongest of them, correct? So surely you can beat a one-armed man.”

  The girl was trying to goad her. A juvenile attempt. She scoffed inwardly as it wasn’t working. Faye realized she was grinding her teeth. Well, maybe it was working a little. But the girl still had no idea what she was asking.

  Algasi were weapons, born and bred. They trained from sunup to sundown, beneath the burning desert sun, to be stronger and faster than an average man and to endure immeasurable pain. She counted eight Algasi when she noticed several had a black-band upon their wooden spears—the mark of an elite warrior, Mundasi. She shivered in memory. Faye had seen a Mundasi fight two Devari and nearly win. In the end, by reading the Algasi’s moves, only one Devari had died, and the other had barely lived. A normal Algasi was only slightly less threatening.

  “If I win,” Faye voiced, sounding more confident than she felt,
“who’s to say I won’t just choose my own freedom and leave you all in the dust?”

  Again, the girl looked impassive. It was growing infuriating. “If you let us die, you will be breaking your bond and your word. But the truth is there is no assurance. It is your call. If you win.”

  Faye dismounted and strode forward. Dalic and the other warriors had watched the whole conversation quietly. Somehow she felt as if he had understood every word. Very slowly, she reached for her long, curved dagger and then her sword. The Algasi watched her, raising their own weapons, but before they could move she crossed the blades over her heart, dipping her head.

  The formal challenge to an Honor Duel.

  Dalic spoke. “Whom do you choose?”

  “You speak the common tongue?” she asked in surprise.

  “It is common for Hutäs, or clan leaders in your tongue, to learn,” he said confidently, if haltingly.

  She snorted. Algasi. “Whom do you choose?” he repeated.

  Ayva nodded to the one-armed man. Everything in Faye agreed. Her survival instincts were strong. Her street-sense had even picked up on the slight limp in another man, noticing their weaknesses and debating which was the least of a threat, like searching for the runt in a litter, though every runt here was deadly. Every fiber of her being and of her tireless tutelage pointed to the one-armed warrior.

  She motioned to Dalic. “You,” she said.

  Ayva drew near, speaking in a harsh whisper for only her ears. “What are you doing? That man… He is clearly the most dangerous of them all.”