by Matthew Wolf
Ayva eyed the nearby shadows with renewed fear, peeking around every corner as if it were moments from revealing a new attacker. With that, they wound their way deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast.
A Path to Salvation
DUST FILLED GRAY’S MOUTH AS HE followed Victasys. The sun blazed high in the sky, beating down on their backs as they strode with deadly purpose. They drew closer to the Citadel, the black spires rising.
Ezrah.
Gray set his jaw.
Every second they delayed, the man was that much closer to death. He pushed faster. The streets grew more crowded, but the manner of people changed. The common folk of Farbs thinned, the bright dress changing to dark red and black.
Victasys’ long legs took him quickly through the throngs. He hid his scarred face deep within his hood, but Gray saw that hood shift, taking in everything. He wondered if Devari could use the ki to sense danger. It made sense. A threat was just a result of emotions, wasn’t it? If the man sensed a thief’s blood rising, or the anger of a slighted patron, then perhaps Victasys could even sense the attack before it came. The thought set off a realization in Gray. That’s how he had avoided injury, walking through Maris’ Luck as if made of smoke.
But something bugged Gray much deeper than Victasys’ special powers. And he spoke suddenly, his curiosity burning a hole in his gut. “Do you really not know me?”
Victasys didn’t miss a step. “I do not.”
Gray shook his head. “But if I lived here, how is that possible?”
The man responded without turning, “All Devari live within the Citadel, save for a rare few. Some of them reside in one of the other nine Great Kingdoms, serving as emissaries of the Patriarch and the Citadel. Until a year ago, I lived within the Great Kingdom of Sun as a councilor to the steward of Vaster, Lord Nolan. When I heard of threats of war close to our borders, and unrest in the heart of my home, I requested to be sent back to Farbs. As a result, much of my life has been spent beyond the walls of the Citadel.” Gray narrowed his eyes. If Victasys was disappointed with being separated from his home for so many years, the man hid it well. He almost wondered if the Devari actually had emotions.
Zane was still staring ahead, but Gray knew he was listening too.
Both men were more attentive than rabbits listening for a hawk.
Motri…
It was the name of his hawk. Well, a hawk, as it wasn’t really his. But Motri had saved his life by alerting the elves to come to their aid at Death’s Gate—of course only after he had inserted the blade into the stone and stopped the Kage, taking a dark blade in the gut in return. Without the hawk and the high elf healer, however, Gray doubted he would still be there. He wondered where Motri was, hoping the strange, intelligent bird was still alive.
Returning to the moment, Gray gave them details about the room where Ezrah was being held as they moved. Victasys spoke, “That most closely matches the Vaults, a dangerous place.”
“Are you certain?” he questioned.
“The Star of Magha is the eight pointed star you described. It’s the Citadel’s emblem. It stands for the eight elements of the land—Water, Stone, Metal, Flesh, Sun, Moon, Leaf, and, of course, Fire. It is the power all Reavers and Neophytes can wield to greater or lesser degrees.”
“What about Wind?” he asked.
Zane and Victasys looked at him uncertainly. “Wind is the banished element,” the Devari said, eyes narrowing. “No one in the world can wield Wind, and it is forbidden to speak of it, just as it is forbidden to speak of the nine forbidden ones.”
Gray noticed Victasys’ voice wasn’t afraid or resentful, but cautious. He decided to risk his luck and test the man. “You mean the Ronin,” he said. “And you don’t believe the stories, do you?”
Victasys snorted. “Long ago I discovered the truth. The Ronin were not evil.”
Were not… Gray thought. Is he right? Are they gone for good?
“What does any of this have to do with the Star of Magha?” Zane questioned gruffly. “How does this help save Gray’s grandfather?”
“The Star of Magha is as old as the Citadel itself. It is inlaid into the ancient stone of the keep in only three places, each of particular significance. One is placed in the Oval Hall, a place where Neophytes are tested and rise to the rank of Reaver… if they pass the grueling Seven Trials.”
“The other two?”
“Another is located in the Patriarch’s grand chambers. The last star is said to be within the Vaults.”
“Then where are the vaults?”
“Below the Citadel.”
“Where exactly?”
“I do not know,” Victasys admitted.
“Then what?” Zane asked, interrupting. “We just saunter up and ask someone where they are torturing the second most powerful man in Farhaven?”
“I doubt that will work,” Victasys replied matter-of-factly.
Gray laughed, but it died in his throat.
The two men weren’t joking. In fact, Victasys looked to be considering Zane’s question seriously. What have I gotten myself into? They were mad. He hoped at least Ayva and Darius were faring better with Faye. The woman was fearsome, but at least she wasn’t crazy. Then again, after hearing about her past and knowing at least some of who she had been, could he ever look at her the same? Gray shook his head—now was not the time for such thoughts.
Victasys looked over his shoulder. The sun lit his hood. His scarred face shone a glistening white as he took in Morrowil. “By the way, that sword you hold, I’ve never seen its like. Where did you get it?”
“Its owner no longer needed it,” he replied honestly, if perhaps too quickly.
It was an evasion, but the words were true. Kail no longer needed it, for the Ronin were no more. Weren’t they? he wondered again. The book in Gray’s bag written in another language and the scrap of Kail’s cloak made him hesitate.
Luckily, Victasys looked convinced. “Still, you hold a blade of kings in your hand like a simple training sword. Even if you two aren’t Devari, I will at least teach you to hold your swords like one.”
Zane opened his mouth to object, but Victasys spoke in a low, commanding tone, guiding them firmly through everything from postures, to hand positions, and a hundred other things, some minute, others drastic. Gray’s mind boggled at the amount of information. The man was a fount of knowledge.
Who could have known a fist touching the blade’s hand guard—or sobri—was a hidden way to unsheathe one’s sword? With a simple squeeze a swordsman could loosen his blade from the scabbard for a smoother draw. But if a skilled swordsman saw the move, it meant “draw or die.” How in the seven hells of remwar could one even detect such a subtle thing? Or that a thumb upon the guard meant an outward threat, but was less dangerous because it could just be a swordsman’s warning. Overwhelmed, Gray avoided touching Morrowil as a whole, afraid of the implications. But he listened raptly, soaking in every morsel of information like rain upon the dry desert.
As Victasys finished instructing the two on how to speak like a Devari, a file of Farbian soldiers clanked past Gray in shiny plate, a woman in scarlet robes at their head. She had two black bands upon her cuff. She moved confidently, emanating power. Something inside him jolted, Kirin shifting restlessly. Gray waited, but his former self grew silent once more.
“A Reaver,” Zane said at his side. “You’ve never seen one before?”
“I can’t remember,” he admitted.
“Your past life?” the fiery man asked.
He nodded.
“A strange thing to lose your memories,” Zane replied. “I can’t imagine forgetting all I’ve ever known. I’ve often wished selfishly I could forget my past, my dark deeds. To forget sounds like a blessing.”
Gray watched two men arguing over a piece of a fruit, and replied, “Do you think so? Would you willingly forget about Hannah?”
Zane looked thoughtful. “No, you’re right, I suppose.”
�
��Light always comes with a price of darkness,” Gray uttered. Those words… were they his own? Kirin muttered inside his mind, just a distant laugh. Gray gave an even breath. “No, it is more a curse, and one that I intend to undo,” he said, speaking to both Zane and Kirin.
Zane chuckled. “You speak in riddles. You truly are like your grandfather.”
Gray laughed, warmed by that thought. “If only I knew him.”
“Be glad at least you discovered him,” the man said. “Some could only wish to be so lucky.”
It was true. He had family, at last. Gray had never cared for such things. Granted, in the dark of night, he would sometimes wonder who his parents were, and imagine their faces, but he never missed them. He supposed it was hard to miss what you never had. But now he knew he had a grandfather. Gray had seen him. He was real. And he wasn’t willing to lose him now.
Gray stared ahead, his eyes hardening upon the huge, black stone keep in the distance that brushed the wispy clouds above. I’m coming, he thought again, clutching the pendant’s dust in his pocket.
“We will save him,” Zane said suddenly.
Gray felt strangely comforted by Zane and his presence. Those hooded eyes, a bright copper, though unusual, didn’t unnerve him. Even as they pressed through the streets, he saw others shy from Zane’s stare. But Gray saw the fire of truth and the passion of strength in his gaze. Who is this man? he wondered not for the first time, feeling an inexplicable connection towards Zane.
“It’s unsettling not remembering anything of your old life,” Gray admitted as they moved past a group of colorful stands. “I don’t really mind it most of the time because I still have memories. Memories with Ayva, and Darius, and others.” He remembered Mura too and his insides twisted, missing the man and his gruff smile. Even Karil, he missed dearly. Gray continued. “I am still me. I don’t seek who I once was anymore, but it’s still odd. I mean, you know more about my own grandfather than I do.”
Zane shrugged. “I suppose. But I know nothing of my parents. They died when Hannah and I were only infants. The only person I ever cared for aside from her was a man I called Father.”
“What was he like?” Gray asked.
The man’s wrathful face broke into a sad smile. “A kind man. And from the little I could tell, much like your grandfather. But he was just a man. Your grandfather is an Arbiter.”
What exactly is an Arbiter? Gray thought.
Victasys appeared at his side, gliding in like a shadow. “Arbiters are legends.”
Gray hesitated.
“The ki senses many things,” the Devari said, eyeing him shrewdly. “The more attuned one is, the more they can sense your feelings. Zane mentioned Arbiters, and your curiosity spiked.
“Arbiters are no mere mortals. A Reaver alone is something to be feared. They are powerful and you must avoid them. You can watch for the stripes at their cuffs to determine their strength,” Victasys whispered. He nodded to a one-stripe Reaver who passed with a gaggle of gray-robed children. “A Reaver of two stripes is vastly stronger than a one stripe. Remember that.”
“And Arbiters?” Gray questioned.
Victasys mulled the question over, a silence settling until Gray thought he wouldn’t answer. At last the Devari spoke with a storytelling air, “I’ve seen a three-stripe Reaver issue a stream of fire wider than a river to level a hillside with one sweep of his hand. But a three-stripe Reaver does not hold a candle to the weakest of Arbiters. Arbiters are gods of the spark. It is likely your grandfather has lived for a thousand years.”
Gray shivered. “How is that possible?”
“The spark is life, and life is the spark. The greater the spark, the greater the life force. I do not say this lightly or to scare you. You simply must know what you are getting into. If someone has your grandfather, then we can only assume they are equally powerful. Therefore, we would be more than wise to prevent a confrontation, for nothing short of an army of Reavers will be able to stop an Arbiter or its like.” He eyed them each seriously. “Understood?”
Both agreed, unable to do anything else beneath that gaze.
“Good. Now your last lesson,” Victasys said. “I will teach you to block the ki. Other Devari will attempt to sense you with it. If you do not have a barrier up, they will discover you are imposters, for all Devari can shield their emotions.”
“And if they do discover us?”
“The crime for intruding is death.”
“Great,” Gray said.
Zane’s heated expression didn’t waver.
Quickly, Victasys explained how to seal emotions away in a compartment within their mind. But as he instructed and Gray obeyed, he felt another strange presence. It reminded him of when he had talked to Darius. He reached to touch it. But before he could try to define the sensation, they took a corner, breaching a set of tall adobe buildings and entering a huge clearing.
Straight ahead sat a huge black keep.
The Citadel.
It sat like a block of hewn obsidian, draining the light from its surroundings despite the bright, dawning sun high above. Awestruck, Gray took it all in: hundreds of tall parapets, sharp crenulations with roving guards in shining plates, and a sea of battlements. The whole thing could have held a hundred Lakewoods within its walls.
“We’re here,” Victasys announced. “Just remember what I taught you.”
Zane grinned. “This is looking more like a deathtrap with every step.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” Gray griped.
“Just expectant,” Zane replied and ribbed him with an elbow. “Besides, I’m curious what you can do with that sword of yours.”
Mad indeed, Gray thought as they approached the giant black gates. But he simply held his breath, and Victasys led the way. A steady stream of Farbian guards poured out of the giant open gates. Inside, he glimpsed green courtyards and a wide staircase. A small file of young boys and girls walked at his side, led by a young girl in drab gray robes—all entering the Citadel as well. They looked terrified. Neophytes, a part of him remembered something.
He clenched Vera’s hand tighter, gazing up at the impossibly tall, black walls.
“Are you afraid?” she asked.
He shook his head. “This is what we wanted, remember? Soon we’ll be Neophytes and we’ll never go hungry.” He could almost feel the gray robes on his body already, replacing his tattered rags, and he practically trembled in excitement. And fear too, he admitted.
She nodded, her tiny face trying to look confident. “You’re right. Just don’t leave me, all right?” Vera said nervously.
“I promise,” Kirin replied.
I promise…
The vision shattered.
Vera…
Gray realized he had crossed the distance of the courtyard, a span of time suddenly gone, and they were standing on the other side of the gate. To his right sat a gatehouse with iron spikes upon its roof. Directly in front of him were two Devari. They blocked his path. One of them was tall with black hair. He was even younger than Gray. An older Devari was standing a breath away, hand on his sword. His hair was plaited into a single silver braid. A komai tail, a voice whispered. Kirin. Crow’s feet at the older man’s eyes tightened.
Gray sensed the tenseness in the air. The man was waiting, he realized. The Devari must have asked a question. What was it? he thought frantically.
Victasys strode forward, but the older Devari raised a hand, holding him back. “I didn’t ask you, brother. I asked this one.”
“Come again,” Gray said. “I was distracted.”
The Devari’s face didn’t waver. “Do I know you?”
“I’m back,” he replied. He shook his head. What did I just say? Fear flashed through him.
Kirin, he cursed inwardly at the voice.
“Back?” said the younger Devari.
“From our mission,” Zane filled in smoothly.
“I know your face, but it’s changed…” the older Devari said, squinting, “Wh
o are you?” The threat in the man’s voice was undeniable.
Victasys remained silent, watching Gray. It was on his shoulders, and he remembered the man’s commanding words: ‘Match strength with strength, for no Devari values weakness.’ “A brother in arms,” he replied, voice hard. He touched his sword, putting his thumb to the sword’s guard—its sobri. A threat.
Though hidden in his hood, Gray felt the scarred Devari’s approval.
The gray-haired Devari hesitated visibly.
The younger Devari behind him spoke, “Relax, Sunji. There’s no need for this.”
“Listen to your friend,” Zane breathed in fury, falling in at Gray’s side.
“Enough of this. You’ve avoided my question for the last time. Lower your ki, now,” Sunji demanded, putting his fist around his hilt. Draw or die, Gray knew. He had to lower his ki now, but he knew if he did the man would shatter everything they had planned. The crime for intruding was death. They would never save Ezrah. It would be all over.
You better get me out of this, or I will… Gray threatened his former self.
You will what? Kirin challenged.
Sunji’s sword scraped, slightly.
“Brother—” Gray said, reaching out with a hand. “Stop this. Please. Feel free to test me.” He felt Victasys tense at his side, knowing the depth of what he just offered. What are we doing? Gray questioned. It was Kirin’s choice. Not his. They are going to discover us! If you get us killed…
Then it’ll be hard to seek vengeance on me, won’t it? Kirin retorted calmly.
Gray growled and felt Sunji reach out with his ki. Gray’s barrier dropped—the small compartment in his mind opening as he allowed the gray-haired Devari inside his conscience.
Sunji’s face contorted. Gray shook, feeling his hand sweat upon Morrowil’s hilt. Two Devari they could take, but how many would jump upon them once the battle started? It was hopeless. Zane’s blade cleared another inch in its scabbard. Victasys moved closer, readying himself.