Fire Walker

by Trudie Skies

Talin stepped to her side. “My daughter is injured and tired. She’s going to the Temple of Gai, immediately. I’ll handle the Council.”

  Salasar rubbed his jaw. “Go on then, man. As for the rest of you, my guards will keep you under watch until my investigation is complete. No one leaves this temple without my authority. Do you hear me?”

  Mina nodded in acquiescence.

  Salasar marched to the temple doors. “Kara. With me.”

  “Let me fetch my cloak. If you’d help me, High Priestess?” Kasara grabbed Mina’s hand and dragged her into the archway before she could protest. She stopped when they were alone. “Make me your sorran.”

  Mina gaped at her. “What?”

  Kasara pulled a small knife from her belt that looked more decorative than sharp. “I overheard Cyrus say that the Prince plans to force a sorran bond on you. They can’t do that if you already have a sorran, and I—” She sucked in a breath. “My father cannot order me around if I am sorran to another.”

  Prince Ravel had threatened to make her sorran to him or one of his lackeys, and with her Fire Walkers gone, her protection as high priestess might be forfeit. She’d be bound to him in the same way Emir was bound to his slave master. The thought made her sick.

  “Are you serious? We’re heading for war, my lady. There’s no avoiding it now.”

  “Which is why you need me for a sorran. I can fight.”

  She could. Mina had witnessed Kasara’s skills for herself.

  “And besides,” added Kasara. “With me at your side, my father would be far more reluctant to send you or your followers to the front lines.” Kasara offered the knife’s handle. “Housemen believe we are silly women who know nothing of war, but they don’t live the reality that women face. I’ve met enough widows in the temple to know it’s our fight as well as theirs, and I won’t stand by and watch war make more widows. Don’t make me beg. I will.”

  “Are you prepared to face your father’s wrath?”

  Kasara laughed. A subtle, restrained laugh, as though her true wild nature hid behind the pomposity that came with a noble upbringing. “Are you? I’ve been defying him since the day I was born.”

  Mina couldn’t believe she was doing this—Salasar would be livid when he found out, and she’d be risking Kasara’s life.

  Unlike Alistar, Kasara was Sandarian—the bond would work. Prince Ravel wouldn’t be able to claim her as his sorran. And, having a female sorran made sense. She wouldn’t need to hide herself or her bleed.

  “Every true warrior has his own sorran,” said Mina. She sliced the knife across her palm.

  “Or her own.” Kasara took Mina’s hand and pressed her lips to the cut.

  Mina couldn’t feel anything happening, but Kasara’s cheeks reddened and she began flexing her own hand as if it stung her. Then her left leg buckled—the same leg as Mina’s wound. She felt Mina’s injuries. The bond had worked.

  “Oh, I should have warned you how badly my leg hurts right now.”

  “I can take it.” Kasara winced. She drew her sword and kneeled into the sand, balancing the blade across her knees. “By the honor of House Sarabond and in the presence of Lune, I pledge my blood and blade to you and your House as your sorran.”

  Mina pulled her up. “And I swear to you, my lady, that I will never ask you to act in a way that would dishonor you or your House.” Nor would she ever utter a command Kasara herself wouldn’t make. Not after witnessing Emir’s suffering.

  “Call me Kara, Lady Tamina.”

  “Then call me Mina.”

  She smiled. “What’s my first duty?”

  Mina wiped her bleeding hand. “We lie to our betters.”

  The call came quicker than Mina had anticipated. She’d barely changed out of her damp clothes when Kasara came to collect her.

  “Zavar Xanbond is outside the temple doors, demanding to speak with you.”

  Gods damn it, what did that fool want? She was supposed to be headed to the Temple of Gai. Needed to. Mina hobbled down the corridor with Kasara in tow.

  Zavar stood in the sanctum with his arms crossed and his foot tapping. “Finally. Prince Ravel requests your presence in the Keep. I am to escort you for your own protection. And he wishes for me to personally offer my services as your new master.”

  Kasara was right—they’d been waiting to spring this on her. “You’re already the Prince’s sorran. You can’t take a sorran when you serve as one. The Code of Hon—”

  “States that a royal sorran may retain their own. Surely you must know that. Come now, Lady Arlbond—Priestess. We both know you won’t survive this war without me.” His sneer turned into a smarmy grin.

  She ground her teeth. “I beat your master in the tournament. I don’t need your help. Besides, I have a sorran—”

  “Your Bosan doesn’t count.”

  Mina raised her palm to show off the still-bleeding cut. To drive the point home, she balled her hand into a fist and dug her nails painfully into the cut.

  Kasara yelped and shook her own hand.

  “You?” Zavar spluttered.

  Mina mouthed Kasara an apology.

  “I will keep the High Priestess safe,” Kasara said with more restraint that Mina would have shown.

  Zavar forced a smile and inclined his head in some parody of politeness. “Lady Sarabond. War is no place for someone of your delicate—”

  Kasara drew her sword and slashed it at Zavar, stopping an inch from his neck. “I am more than capable, Lord Zavar.”

  Zavar chuckled with nervous laughter, his eyes fixed on the sword. “Women don’t serve as sorrans—”

  “The Code of Honor says nothing about female sorrans one way or the other,” Mina said. “Go and thank your prince for his concern for my welfare. It is most kind and noble of him. But as you can see, I already have a Sandarian sorran to guard me.”

  “Fine, it doesn’t matter. The Prince still demands your presence. You’ll come with me now, or would you prefer he march on the temple?”

  Mina sighed. “Stay here, Kara. There’s much to do, and I won’t have both of us wasting our time with petty meetings.”

  Once again, she marched with Zavar on the summons of his master. She hid the limp in her leg as best she could as she climbed the steep hill to the Keep and tried to mentally prepare herself to face the onslaught of questions. But when Zavar opened the door to the Council chamber, only Prince Ravel stood inside, not a full Council meeting as she’d expected.

  Zavar closed the door after her, leaving her alone with the Prince of Poison.

  Prince Ravel sat on the edge of the table with the casual grace of a young Houseman—not a royal heir. His amber eyes looked thoughtful. “Sit.”

  She remained standing. “My Prince, there was a—”

  “Lord Salasar has informed me of what has transpired. He states devastating losses. What confuses me is how?”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the Council?”

  “There’s no need.”

  She tucked her hands behind her back. “Where’s my father?” She couldn’t feel Talin’s essence nearby, though nothing out of the ordinary had passed through the bond.

  “Lord Talin is waiting on my father in the palace. He spends rather a lot of time there, and not enough with the Council he is supposed to lead. As such, the decisions of the Council must fall on my shoulders. As heir, this is a burden I welcome.”

  Talin was giving not only too much time to the King but also too much blood. With each hour spent, he weakened himself and strengthened Prince Ravel’s grip on the Council. Her anxiety passed through the bond and Talin’s essence warmed in response—the scent of rain on sand.

  “Priestess? I’m awaiting your explanation.”

  “Lord Salasar gave you a report—”

  “I want to hear it from your own mouth.”

  Mina took a steadying breath. “The Fire Walkers were poisoned—”

  “By
Rahn’s Breath.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You of all people know its devastating effects. I warned you the Hartnords were poisoning my Fire Walkers to use them against our people. They used the negotiations as a diversion to invade the Temple of Rahn right under our noses. If you and the Council had listened, we could have stopped them and saved hundreds of lives!”

  “There are tunnels leading outside, are there not? The Fire Walkers could have escaped.”

  How did he know about the tunnels? “Once, yes. Leila blocked them when she was high priestess.”

  “Historically, these tunnels connected the temples to one another.”

  She fought to keep her expression neutral. The Prince was a great student of history. He must have read about the tunnels in one of his books. How else would he know? “Historically, my Prince. The fact remains that the Hartnords chose to attack us, steal my Fire Walkers, take Jonan—”

  “Yes, truly devastating.” He stroked his chin. “How many of your Fire Walkers remain? Lord Sarabond reports a handful at best. A pity.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” She lowered her hands to her side and they curled into fists. “Hundreds of Fire Walkers died, and that’s all you have to say?”

  “Naturally, this loss will hinder our attack against the Hartnords—”

  “They are not your weapons! They are people!”

  Prince Ravel slid off the table. “They are the reason we are at war, Lady Arlbond, or have you forgotten already?”

  “You continue to blame an entire group of people for the actions of one man—”

  “Where Fire Walkers are concerned, the actions of one man can have reaching consequences. It was one man, one Rhaesbond, who almost destroyed my bloodline. It was one man, one delusional Fire Walker, who murdered a Hartnord king and destroyed any chance of peace between our nations. I believe in our laws, Priestess, because without them, all it would take is one man to destroy us.”

  She stepped an inch from his nose and eyed the crescent scar marring his cheek. “Are you so scared, my Prince?”

  “For my people? Yes. It was they who scarred my brother for life—”

  “And yet he is man enough to forgive them and move on.”

  “Man enough? He’s no more a man than you, Lady Arlbond. He’s nothing more than a little boy who pines for his Dusland whore and feels the need to win her affection by joining the town guard in order to prove he is man enough for her.”

  The Prince’s words were like a slap across her face. She took a step back.

  He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, the same way he’d held her the first time they met in Khalbad—the night he’d murdered her uncle.

  “Let go of me.”

  He tugged her close enough for their breath to mingle. “You overreach yourself, Tamina. Do you honestly believe my brother has the fortitude to rule this kingdom? Or that its people would accept you as queen—a woman who, until recently, was a man?”

  She tried to pull from his grip but it only tightened. “I won the tournament. And I’m the daughter of Lord Talin, a man whom everyone knows and adores.”

  “Ah, Lord Talin, a father who chose to dress up his daughter as a man, enter her into the Academy as a man, and parade her in the tournament as a man. Is it because you look in the mirror and see a man? Or by dressing as one, you hope to become one?”

  “You seem fixated on sex, my Prince.”

  “I’m fixated on truth, Lady Arlbond. You and your House do nothing but lie. How many lies have spilled from those lips of yours? Should we count?”

  “What of your own lies, my Prince? You poisoned your own people! Your own father!”

  “I’ve always been honest about the dangers of the Fire Walkers and how far I’m willing to go to protect the people of Sandair from their kind. I admit to everything I’ve done. I serve the law and our Code of Honor. Do women even understand what that means?” He shook his head. “Duty comes first to any true warrior, Malik.”

  “Who would you poison next for your father’s crown? Your brother? Sister?”

  His nails dug into her skin. “My brother is a fool and a threat to no one. And my sister… I will destroy any Fire Walker who steps near her.”

  Gods, he didn’t know his sister possessed blood fire. Mina would have to carry that secret to her death. Heat built in her hand and the Prince released her before she could burn him.

  The Prince skipped back and chuckled as though this was all some new game. “The Council and Lord Sarabond have voted on our only course of action. We’ve invited the Hartnords into our city twice now, and twice they have betrayed us. Nor can we ignore the murder of my father’s Left Arm. We must press forward and begin our attack on Hartnor immediately. What few Fire Walkers you have left will march for the Ruby Coast come dawn.”

  “Dawn? That’s not enough time—”

  “They will join with a battalion leaving the north gate. Each will be accompanied by a guard to ensure their protection and to prevent further attacks against them. I have ordered Zavar to assess each of your Fire Walkers and decide which to leave behind for Solus’s defense.”

  He was going to identify every Fire Walker under her command and ensure none of them went missing. “There’s hardly enough Fire Walkers left. We need them here, to protect Solus—”

  “We need our most dangerous weapons on the front lines.”

  This wasn’t about winning a war. It was about punishing them.

  “Furthermore.” The Prince grabbed a scroll from the table and passed it to her. “As I’ve said before, I believe it’s only fitting that our High Priestess should lead the Fire Walkers into battle. Especially during these dark times. Lord Salasar will receive my orders separately and position you and your Fire Walkers accordingly. I do hate to waste a talented Fire Walker such as yourself, but think of the message it will send to our enemies—and the morale it will deliver to our soldiers. Our great High Priestess riding into battle—”

  “But not you, my Prince? Are you not brave enough to lead your own men?”

  “I will be on the battlefield, rest assured. Perhaps I’ll even wave to you from some hilltop or another, where it is the place of commanders to sit in their comfortable pavilions to survey the field and arrange their troops. Such is the role of a prince.” He cocked his head. “You seem displeased. We have the same enemies. Surely you wish to lead your Fire Walkers and save Lord Jonan? Are you no longer the fearless warrior you pretended to be as a man?”

  She wanted nothing more than to save Jonan and make Prince Wulfhart suffer, but not at the expense of her Fire Walkers. Her first duty was to protect them—it’s what Jonan would want. “Why the coast? Why aren’t you sending us to the Cold Path?”

  “Because Wulfhart will strike there first to test our defenses—”

  “And Jonan? You’ve going to leave a Houseman in the hands of Hartnords?” How could they save Jonan if she was being pulled in the opposite direction?

  “There’s more than one life at stake in this war, Lady Arlbond.”

  Of course the Council didn’t consider a Rhaesbond life worth the rescue attempt. Any other Houseman, and they’d be burning their way north already.

  “Don’t fret,” the Prince said. “You and your Fire Walkers will be put to task. Leave military strategy to those with an Academy education.”

  She scrunched the scroll in her fist. “Is that all, my Prince?”

  “Oh, I forgot. You received a letter from Rajesh Enaibond a few days ago. I took the liberty of opening and destroying it for you.”

  “You read my letters?”

  “Spies are everywhere. All correspondence must be checked.”

  It couldn’t have included anything incriminating; otherwise, she’d have been marched to the Council sooner. Raj was smarter than that, though not smart enough to send his letter to the temple instead of the Keep. At least now she knew she couldn’t rely on a courier to contact him or Alistar. />
  “What did the letter say?”

  “Nothing.” The Prince rolled his eyes. “Pure drivel. He misses you greatly and he’s seen oh-so-many flowers and the temple’s food is terrible. I don’t know how you tolerate those Gaislander friends of yours.” He waved his hand at her. “You’re dismissed.”

  Mina stomped from the chamber and felt the Prince’s eyes follow her every step.

  “Enjoy the coast, Lady Arlbond,” Prince Ravel called. “It’s most lovely this time of year.”

  51

  THE MARCH NORTH

  Guards remained stationed outside the temple doors. Zavar stood inside the sanctum, watching her acolytes and eavesdropping on their every whisper. As soon as he saw her, he waved her over, his expression grim.

  “As per our Prince’s orders, I have counted and spoken to each of the Fire Walkers who survived the attack. I’m sad to say, our numbers are very little.” He actually sounded remorseful, or he knew how to fake sincerity better than his cousin. “I’ve compiled a list of those who should remain and those who will be expected to march. Guards will arrive before dawn, and I’ll personally assign one to each man for their protection.”

  He passed over a scroll and she quickly scanned the names of those to march with her to the coast—her five acolytes, Garr, and Kamran, but no mention of Samira or some of the other Fire Walkers who’d not managed to escape. “Kamran’s a child—”

  “He’s old enough.”

  She scowled. “His mother has just burned to death and you want to march him to his own?”

  “Those are your orders.” Zavar strode for the temple doors, accompanied by two guards. Three more remained inside the temple on watch.

  Gods curse all princes and Housemen.

  “Sword Dancer.” Garr leaned from the kitchen door and beckoned her to join him.

  Kamran sat beside the kitchen hearth and was feeding Fez some leftover crumbs. Her guts twisted at the thought of sending him to war. He was just a boy—a boy who should have been leaving Solus with his mother. But now they were all trapped.

  The march to the Ruby Coast would take a week at least, and during that time, there’d be enough soldiers and commotion to lose track of one scrawny boy. Perhaps Iman could follow them secretly for a few days, then run off with Kamran in the night. It was the only plan she had.