Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (63 page)

“Dice…” Ayva whispered, neck craning to take it all in.

Dice, indeed,
he thought.

“I never thought to see something like this in such a dark hole,” Ayva said, eyeing the floor. “These are words, aren’t they?”

Faye nodded. “Of an ancient language said to exist during the time of the Ronin.”

Each scrawled letter was thick enough for a stream to run through.
If they are words,
Darius thought,
they must’ve been written by a giant’s chisel, for they are enormous.
“What exactly is this place?” he asked.

“No one knows exactly,” Faye replied. “Both the chamber and the pit have stood since the origin of Farbs, perhaps even before, built during the first age. I often wonder at the purpose of this place for the people of old, but whatever it was, it is now lost. Darkeye has twisted it—just like all things he touches. Come.
The prison is at the far end of the chamber.”

Swiftly, they moved across the grand, white floor, passing by the pit. Darius slowed. The others continued on swiftly, but he felt strangely
pulled
.
What is this feeling?
Cursing his curiosity, he edged closer. The scraping sound came from within, and it grew louder with every step. His heart rapped against his ribcage as he stared into the black abyss while red bloodstones glittered in the depths.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly leapt out of his skin, and then he saw Ayva’s face, blue eyes pinched with worry. “We can’t stop, Darius, we have to save Hannah.”

“Come,” Faye ordered, “we must not linger here.”

Darius heard the words, feeling their urgency, but he felt inexplicably drawn to the pit, like a gambler’s hand to dice.
Why is this here and what is this feeling?
Ayva hesitated too, drawing closer, and she reached out.

Faye snatched Ayva’s wrist, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t. There is a reason this is called the Pit of Despair. Darkeye uses this hellish hole for any who disobey him.”

From within the pit, something shifted in the darkness. It rasped.

Breathing
.

“
What…
what’s down there?” he asked fearfully.

Faye’s grip tightened on her sword. “Remember the Darkwalkers?”

“You mean those black creatures back in the desert?” Ayva asked.

“
Those
demonic spawn?!” Darius cursed. “They nearly killed us!”

The scratching and rasping continued, the red lights shadowing as the creature roiled in the darkness, moving as if restless… as if hungry. “And they would have succeeded too if it weren’t for Gray. Now come,” Faye insisted, “This place is not safe. We must not stay here long.”

They continued onward.

Darius followed, forcefully pulling himself away from the pit.

Why would Darkeye keep such a beast?
And he
remembered his father’s words, ‘
Evil begets evil, lad. Never trust.’
He shook his head. No, his father had been wrong before. Perhaps the creature was simply misunderstood. Being kept down there endlessly… A dark life indeed. All beasts need to feed, don’t they? He scoffed.
Wishful thinking, Darius,
he thought with a shiver. He remembered those dark, flailing limbs from back then. That thing
was
evil.
Then why did I feel drawn towards that pit?

“Darkwalkers, what are they exactly?” Ayva asked as they walked beneath the grand domed chamber, heading towards the far wall.

“An odd time to ask questions, girl,” Faye said, but she answered regardless. “Darkwalkers are creatures of terrible magic. They kill by sapping the spark from anything they touch. Nothing can cut through their black skin save for
phoxes
, beings of light created to balance the Darkwalkers.”

“Phoxes? You mean those things we saw before?” Ayva asked. “Those white creatures in the cages?”

Faye nodded.

Darius shivered, remembering the main cavern with its swarm of thieves and cages full of outlandish beasts—gryphons and the like. “Wait, I don’t get it,” he said. “If Darkeye has so many phoxes, why not simply use them to kill all Darkwalkers and then be rid of the whole lot of ’em?”

“Impossible,” Faye said. “As Primordial Beings, neither can be controlled so easily.
As I told you before, phoxes follow a Matriarch. She is their queen. Only the one who can bond the Matriarch can control the phoxes. A
destined
one,” she scoffed, “or so the stories say. Otherwise, phoxes are nearly as dangerous and unpredictable.”

Ayva shook her head. “Why would the world spawn such evil?”

Faye sniffed. “This world is full of magical creatures, some dark, and some light. Is it your place to judge what is good and what is evil?” Ayva opened her mouth, just as Faye cut her off, announcing,
“We’re here.”

* * *

The prison was not much more than a black stone hollow at the far edge of the huge vaulted chamber—the open space made Darius’ stomach queasy, knowing they could both see who was coming and be seen with equal ease. Rusty metal bars were embedded into the cavity and inside the jail cell he saw only darkness.

“This is it?” Darius questioned fearfully. “I don’t see her.”

“Hannah?” Ayva called.

Shadows twisted, and a small voice sounded. “Who’s there?”

Ayva strode forward. Dappled light shone down upon them from a gap in the chamber’s ceiling high above, making her appear divine. Something about the image of Ayva in the light felt familiar to Darius. “Hannah? Is that you? You can come out now. It’s all right.”

“Who are you? What in the blighted hell do you want with me?” the small voice called from the darkness.

Darius sighed. “That’s Zane’s sister all right.”

Ayva cuffed his arm, and he grumbled, then the voice spoke. “Did you say… Zane?” The girl stepped into the half-light but not huddled and afraid like Darius was expecting. Though caged, she stood straight and fierce like lightning placed inside a bottle.
She had flaxen hair and a soft round face, but there was a fire in her.
“My brother… Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Darius said. Then grumbled inwardly.
I don’t think he can die. That angry fool took on a whole inn full of thieves.

Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.

Faye moved forward, extracting a key from a series upon her belt and unlocked the heavy bolt. Ayva rushed inside. “Hannah, we’re friends of your brother—we’ve come to rescue you, but there is not much time… ”

Darius entered the prison when he felt the ground shudder beneath him.
What was that?
Unshackling his manacles, he knelt, touching the cold stone floor. Footsteps thundered, approaching. Fear gripped his heart. He touched Ayva’s arm. “We have to leave
now
. Hannah”— he turned to the young girl— “are you ready?”

She bobbed her head, snatching a tattered jacket from the ground.

Metal clanged.

They twisted to see Faye.

Instinctively, Darius lunged for the bars. Faye quickly twisted her key with a terrifying
click
. Confusion and anger flooded through him. He reached for her, but she nimbly leapt back. Standing on the outside of the hollow, Faye’s expression was unreadable—only the white of her eyes gleamed from within the shadows of her hood.

“Faye?” Ayva questioned. “What on earth are you doing?”

The two women joined him at his side.

“What’s going on?” Hannah asked. “Who is this woman?”

“Faye… unlock this door,” Darius said slowly, as he calmly gripped the bars.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, dear rogue,” Faye said.

Darius felt Ayva tense at his side.

He swallowed. “And why exactly not?”

“You see, I wasn’t always at your side. When I told you I had tried to abandon my past, that wasn’t the whole truth,” Faye said.

“No,” Ayva breathed.

“Open this door!” Darius shouted.

Faye ignored them. “It’s a funny thing, trust, isn’t it?” As she spoke, she unsheathed one of her many daggers, tossed it into the air and caught it by the blade repeatedly. “Life is a dance with fate. We think ourselves smarter or faster than her, but always… in the end…” She tossed the dagger high. It twirled. She caught it by the blade, but, due to the angle, the dagger’s edge cut into her palm. “She wins.” Faye’s expression didn’t shift as she eyed the blood upon her hand, as if resigned.

Darius twisted as the sound of clapping echoed through the chambers. A figure appeared, dozens of dark thieves at his back, and there was no doubt in Darius’ mind as to who it was. Wearing shreds of black cloth about his slender frame, and a black mask from which blond tufts of hair stuck out, the demon thief approached.

“Darkeye…” Darius cursed.

“Name recognition,” Darkeye said in a grating voice like a blade slowly unsheathed from a tight scabbard. “My, my. I feel important.” The thief leader stopped before the cage. “Well done, my dear. I am proud of you.” With the back of his fingers, he stroked Faye’s cheek compassionately.

Faye shirked his touch like poison, but replied in a low hiss, “I
live
to serve.”

“Yes, well, perhaps unwillingly for now. But the glory days of old will return, and you will realize that I have only your best interests at heart,” he declared. But Faye didn’t answer. Darkeye looked back to the cage, hand resting casually upon the blade at his hip. “These are the two you mentioned?”

“As promised,” Faye replied.

Darius’ blood boiled, but he tried to conceal his rage. He held his leaf-blade close, hiding it behind his back, preparing himself.

“Greetings,” said Darkeye in an infuriatingly calm voice, eyeing them in the shadows like a hungry beast. He waved to his thugs. “I’d like to see our guests of honor in the light of the cavern. Bring them out, and don’t forget to take the young man’s sword that he’s attempting to hide, and so poorly.”

The hulking thugs barreled in, grabbing Darius before he could swing his blade. They yanked his arm behind his back, and he cried out in pain as he was thrown to the ground, sword points aimed at his neck. When his blind fury died, he saw Ayva was nearby, and his blade sat a dozen paces away.

A thug moved to grab it. The huge man with a curly head of hair and barrel-like arms snatched the handle and immediately cried out in agony, falling to his knees. He continued to shudder, trying to let go of the leaf-shaped blade, his scarred muscles roiling like snakes moving beneath his skin. At last, he keeled over, silent.

Another of Darkeye’s men touched the man’s throat and backed away, shaking his head.
Dead,
Darius realized. The other minions looked to Darius with snarls of anger and confusion, and he felt hope rise inside of him. “What… what kind of trickery is this?” said a big thug, eyeing the dead thief and the quiet green blade.

“Go ahead,” Darius taunted, looking to Darkeye. “Take it.”

Calmly, Darkeye pulled off his mask. Darius fought to not look away. Darkeye’s face was that of an almost ordinary man, with blond hair and a white scar that ran across his nose, cheek and over his eye. But there was no mistaking the aberrant strain of darkness within him… a murderous hunger that shone in the man’s auburn eyes. “Leave the blade,” he instructed then looked back to Darius. “If you think that a blade of magic is something to fear, then you are in for quite the treat, boy. I shall give you your first lesson on true terror.”

Darius felt a smirk rise, but he bit off a retort as he saw Faye’s expression. For a moment he thought he saw her features shift, mouth twitching in fear. But then it was gone, and her expression was almost bored once again. “If I’m done here…” she began, moving away.

“Stay,” Darkeye ordered harshly. “I wish for you to watch this.”

Darkeye led the way, and Faye and his guards followed, escorting Darius and Ayva back to the center of the chamber where the pit sat, leaving Hannah behind in her prison.

Darkeye pulled a glimmering bloodstone from the chamber’s white floor and held it in his hand.
He stalked nearer to the dark pit as he spoke
,
“Bloodstone is truly fascinating. Did you know in every Devari’s blade a fragment of bloodstone is kept? It’s what gives their swords that brilliant blaze when they embrace their ki and allows their blades to slice through weaker steel and even magic.” With a sharp ring, the man unsheathed his blade. It blazed brilliantly in the light streaming from above. The blade looked familiar, and Darius realized it was just like Victasys. Just then, Darkeye twisted slightly and he stiffened.
His cloak…
It was made of bloodied, patchwork scraps of nearly a dozen crossed-swords sewn together, emblems of the Devari cloaks.