Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (30 page)

Zane dove just in time. It roared over him. Heat touched his skin as it crashed and burned Hannah’s makeshift shelter. Two more came, right on its heel. He dove behind a pillar and it exploded, shaking the cavern. The next ricocheted off the wall. He raised his arms, sheltering himself as flames exploded near his face. Breathing hard, Zane felt his fire rising.

He heard Salamander cackle, sounding near the entrance. “Come and face me, rat! No more hiding! If you beg me, I might even tell you where Hannah is being held.” Three more balls of fire exploded against the column. The cavern shuddered repeatedly. Zane looked up through the flames. A crack had formed in the ceiling. Two more balls of fire rocked the room, and the crack grew, the room threatening to collapse.

“Enough!” Zane bellowed.

The onslaught of fire stopped.

He stepped out from behind the column. Casually, he picked at a burning ember on his coat and flicked it aside. He looked up to Salamander, anger reaching a peak. He felt as if he could make the man explode with his eyes alone. For a moment, the man flinched beneath his fiery stare.

“Give her back to me,” he ordered. “If you do, I might spare your life.”

Salamander laughed almost awkwardly, taken aback by his comment. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But you will die here.”

“Why did you attack me at the warehouse?”

Salamander grinned wickedly. “We had to get you away. It’s a shame those fools didn’t kill you there, but I doubted you would fall for that trap entirely. But they did their job, I suppose—keeping you away and all that. You see, every time we got close enough to wipe you out, you somehow sensed us and moved the Lost Ones to a new dirty hovel where you could peck at us like a disease, like a
little
conniving rat gnawing at scraps.” Salamander took a deep breath, easing out the anger in his voice, even smiling. “
So
, I thought to myself, how on earth do you stomp out a rat’s nest? And do you know the answer, little rat,
hmm?”

Zane said nothing, his fury rising.

“It’s quite simple really. You lead the rat to food. And when the vermin’s gone, you squash his nest and burn it all. Every. Last. Rat.” In Zane’s core, something burned. But Salamander continued, voice slick as oil, “But there’s one fatal flaw. How do we get that little rat to smell the cheese and take the bait? Well, that was even simpler.” Salamander’s gaunt face twisted, eyes glittering. “We needed to get a rat of our own…”

Zane put the pieces together and he felt the hairs on his neck rise. “Trev,” he breathed in fury.

“Darkeye minion to the bone that one,” said Salamander with a grin.

“Trev will find a traitor’s death at the end of my dagger, just like you.”

“Sadly not,” Salamander said darkly. “It is fitting that in the end I should be the one to bring back your corpse and claim the reward on your head.” The man’s hand lifted, and a molten ball of fire formed from thin air, growing like a blister. Zane retreated, feigning fear, circling the man, and moving back slowly. Salamander continued stalking forward.

Zane’s heart thumped, watching that fire. “Why me? What does Darkeye want?”

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t care to ask. Your head on a pike is enough for me.” Another step.

“Why would he take Hannah? Just to lure me?”

“Oh, surely you know. The girl is an Untamed.” Zane continued to back up. Salamander gave an oily sneer and added, “She will make a fine addition to our stock.”

Zane spoke confidently, simply. “I will kill you. You will live for now, but one day I will wipe that look from your face, and watch as you die, afraid and confused.”

“Silence!” Salamander bellowed, spittle flying. “You abandoned those you love, and now you will die!” The ball hovered, emanating heat, making sweat run down his ruddy features. He cried, throwing the fire. Zane dashed. He had positioned himself close to the bank of the river. It was paces away. The fire roared, gaining on him as he dove.

The fire streaked by him, igniting his clothes. At the same time, he pierced the water. The fire raged above him, a muted roar. It lit the river, and sent torrents of water into the air, rocking him like a boat in a storm. But he pushed forward, and the water carried him quickly downstream. Still, he swam harder. At last, after what felt like an hour later, he came up, gulping for air. Quickly, he stilled his breath, waiting to hear the splash of another, to see if Salamander had followed, but there was no sign. The man couldn’t swim, he figured—most of Farbs couldn’t. What need was there in a land full of sand? He almost wanted to breathe a sigh of success, but Salamander’s words sunk beneath his flesh, filling him with dread and more anger.

Hannah, a part of Darkeye’s clan.
The thought was somehow more terrifying than her death.

He pushed it aside, continuing on.

After a while, he debated leaving the river and returning to the tunnels, but the stream was taking him where he wanted to go. And through the murky water, he spotted torchlights bobbing in the dark tunnels. The forms of men were big and wide, moving in organized packs much larger than anything like the Lost Ones.

Darkeye’s brutes, he knew.

And so he stuck to the river, letting the warm waters take him deeper. He kept his head low, breathing through his nose as he skimmed the water’s surface. Occasionally, a lantern or torch passed too close and he dipped beneath the water, holding his breath and swimming until the currents carried him onward.

Zane hated being submerged in water.
Give me dry, desert heat over damp, humid weather any day.
Besides, being surrounded on all sides felt all too similar to being trapped and suffocating. He couldn’t stand to be restrained. But for now, he was glad for its shelter.

At last, he reached Sanctuary. He saw more fires, and the grand cavern ahead. Suddenly, he heard cries and moans, cutting through the air. He stiffened.

He was too late…

Voices rose above the gurgle of water.

“Should we hide?” the man asked. “Salamander tol’ us Zane maht be comin’ to save his lil’ los’ rats any moment now.”

“And? What’s yer stinkin’ point?”

The big man shifted uncomfortably and answered, “He’s no slouch, Vurpil, nah’ like these vermin.”

Vurpil laughed. “Oh yeah? What’s he gonna do? Take us both?”

“But them rumors—’aven’t you ’eard? They say he’s made of shado’ and fia’.”

“That don’t make no sense,” said the smaller one brazenly. “Which one is it, shadows or fire?”

Zane grabbed the bank’s ledge and walked out before them. “Both.”

The brutes froze, eyeing the dripping man before them as if they were dreaming.

He felt his anger form, hardening him, forging him. His blood was a torrent of fire. He reached for his dagger behind his back and… He stiffened.
It’s gone.
It must have fallen out when he dove into the river. Both men saw that look in the flickering torchlight. They grinned and attacked at once.

Vurpil, the smaller of the two, swiped with a spiked bludgeon, aiming at Zane’s head with a wild cry. Zane ducked beneath the man’s strike, rushing forward. Using his momentum and his funneled anger, he punched the smaller brute in the stomach. Hard. Vurpil doubled over as the air was knocked from his lungs and his cry was squelched. The man tried to rise, but Zane’s fists crashed into his hunched back, sending him to the ground. The other, bigger thug was charging with his sword upraised. Zane slipped the strike as it came down, narrowly missing his back, and then he kicked the bigger man in the chest with all his ferocity. The man flew through the air, splintering the nearby torches, and landing with a grunt. Zane approached. The big man moaned, rubbing his chest—likely several of his ribs were broken. He coughed, and sputtered, “Oi’ knew you were some kina’ blasted demon…”

Zane bent and grabbed the torch from the ground as the man continued to groan and blather.

“But Darkeye ain’t human either. Not even mortal.” He cackled and sputtered more blood. “You… Even you don’t stand a chance. Him an’ Salamander’ll wipe you and yer pathetic kin off the face of this damned earth…” Zane rose, approaching. The man’s eyes grew wide and wild. “
DO YOU ’EAR ME?!”

Zane didn’t break stride as he kicked the man in the face, knocking him out and moving on. He entered the camp and desolation hit him.

Fires like before lit the cavern, but these were not cooking fires. Tents, bedrolls, and all else burned as far he could see. The dead littered the ground—both Darkeye’s men and Lost Ones. Mostly Lost Ones.

He found himself moving, eyes filmed, as he took in corpses he had just seen living and breathing. Now they looked into another world. Zane had seen death, but this was different. He saw a little boy. His torch tumbled from his grip as he dropped to his knees.

Rygar…

The boy’s blond hair was tousled, his too-small clothes torn to tatters. In the boy’s crumpled fist something glinted. Gently unpeeling Rygar’s frozen fingers, Zane saw the fat silver coin he had given the boy. Nearby, he recognized another little body—Dasher. Fire and sickness boiled inside of Zane, and sadness threatened to overwhelm. He closed Rygar’s wide, lifeless eyes with one hand. With his other hand, he closed the boy’s fist around the coin. Whispering a prayer, he grabbed his torch and moved on. Smoke saturated the air, stinging his eyes and burning his nose. Beneath it all, he smelled the metallic stench of blood. He quickened his pace, making his way up the Healer’s Terrace where he found what he had been dreading… He shied his gaze, sucking in a thin breath. Slowly, he looked back, taking in the fallen man’s white robes with their dirty-brown hem.

Father was dead.

Zane opened his mouth to bellow his anger, but in the last moment swallowed it. Instead, he breathed a tumultuous breath, avoiding the vacant stare of the man who was the closest thing he’d ever had to a father. Arm trembling, he uttered another soft prayer and closed Father’s eyes. Quietly, Zane rose, moving to the water. A mantle of fury, deeper than he’d ever known, came over him as he dropped the torch with a hiss and submerged himself in shadows. Breathing in the darkness, Zane turned, eyes latching onto a destination far beyond. He knew what he had to do, where he had to go—to a corner of Farbs where the deepest shadows and all dark news resided.

He moved. Water still dripped from his clothes as he strode, feeling a strange power rumbling inside him. He moved up a smaller tunnel, having to crouch as he pushed forward. A part of his rage wanted, no
demanded
, that he take the main tunnels out. The path they expected of him. It beckoned him, begging him to lose himself, to kill without abandon. But his anger was his to control, and he would not let it consume him. He would not risk himself and die, only to let Hannah be lost to the hands of Darkeye and his men. He would see her to safety, no matter what, and vengeance would be served.

But there was only one place to find his answers, only one place that would know how to storm The Lair of the Beast and live. It was still a fool’s task, but he would not fail.

Maris’ Luck waited.

Then Darkeye would meet his torrid wrath.

A Bet of Blood

G
RAY SAT IN THE CORNER OF
Maris’ Luck.

Thoughts of the man returned like a dream.

They were close, huddled over a flickering fire as the white storm assailed them.

Kail was the cause of that storm.
More than that,
now
he knew why Kail had sent the storm—to ward off Vera and protect them as they reached the Shining City. But that wasn’t known back then, and the memory consumed him once more.

He watched Maris. The man sat quietly, and Gray took in his characteristic white hair spiked up like a flame, his timeless, moss green eyes and sharp features. Most intriguing to Gray, Maris had a perpetual quirk to his thin lips, as if always in on some dark joke that all the world was blind to knowing… Huddled against the cold, the Ronin cradled a steaming mug between his frayed, fingerless gloves and shivered. Even so, he found it odd that the man could be cold, could feel things like others. The stories had made it all a big, confusing pile of truth and fiction in his head. A Ronin. He was immortal, was he not? Maris caught him looking and, nervously, Gray turned. “You make a man unnerved with a look like that,” the Ronin murmured, his breath misting in the cold air.