Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (7 page)

Her thoughts went back to Gray. That moment… Despite the storm of uncertainty that welled inside her, and all the confusion of what they faced ahead, she had felt so secure in that one moment.

She caught Darius looking at her curiously over his shoulder.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away, pretending to busy herself with shaking out her bedroll.
Dice!
she thought, stealing the rogue’s curse,
I’m a little girl again… Wasn’t it just yesterday I was hanging from a dragon’s talons?
She must have looked like a boy pining over his first sword, or a patron falling for the wiles of Willow’s enchanting voice and harp.

Thoughts of her father’s inn almost drew her back to a dark place, but she veered away, thinking back to the Ronin and the final battle at Death’s Gate
. Wasn’t it less than a year ago that I didn’t even think Farhaven existed, let alone the Ronin?
No. That was never true. Ayva had always believed in something more, and only when Gray showed up did those dreams become a reality.

Gray…

She shook her head, coming full circle
. I miss Mura, Karil, and even that stone-faced Rydel, but I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else in the world, or with anyone else for that matter.

“Dice, who took my pipe?”

She looked over and saw the rogue mumbling and cursing, peering into his bag. “No one took your pipe, Darius. Maybe you just misplaced it.”

“Someone took it. I’m not pointing fingers, but it was right here, plain as day, and now it’s gone…”

“Don’t you have three others?” she asked.

Darius paused his frantic rummaging and looked up. “Well, sure, but that one was my favorite. I’d worn it in just right. A good pipe is like a good pair of boots, and—
bah
, you wouldn’t understand.”

Ayva shook her head, amused.
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
She looked down. Her hand gripped a silver scabbard, which she had hidden beneath her makeshift pillow. She admired the beautiful, intricate weapon. As long as her forearm, the lacy scabbard had scrawled silver patterns too complex to decipher. It dazzled as if encrusted with diamonds. She unsheathed the blade. Its steel shone like a full moon on a dark night, even in the morning sun. A gift, like the cormacs, from the Elvin queen.

Tucking the blade into her belt, she rose and approached the rogue. Looking around, Gray was nowhere to be seen. His pack and bedroll had already been seen to. “Where’s Gray?”

Darius shrugged. “He said he’d ride ahead and scout—something about being restless.” He looked up, pulling tight the last strap on his cormac. “Between you and me, he was acting a little strange. More so than normal.”

“Oh, really?”

Darius lifted a brow. “What’s got you smiling? You look like someone just asked you to the Harvest Festival.”

Ayva hadn’t realized she was smiling. She resumed a smooth face. “Nothing, I just think you two are funny.”

“Why’s that?” He grabbed her bag and moved to her cormac, strapping down the pack.

“Well, lately, he’s acting more like you, and you, more like him,” she said with a casual shrug. As she said the words, she realized that added another confusing layer to what had happened last night.

Darius had already rubbed the animals down. Their silken coats, now free of dust, glistened in the desert sun. Her steed was chewing on the strange cud Karil had given them, the animal’s long, graceful neck dipping like a willow tree’s branch, silent as always. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? How so?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Well, I wasn’t before, but
now
I am. Gray’s fine and all, but he’s always so… dutiful.”

“Looks like you just answered your own question. Who’s strapping down the animals? Who’s making sure all the night watches get covered?” She shrugged again. “I’m just saying.”

Hand frozen on the cormac’s strap, Darius’ mouth worked but no words came out. “I…” he stumbled, and then cursed, tugging the already fully tightened strap and grumbling to himself. She heard some interspersed words as she finished cleaning up the camp.
“Dicing… Gray… cormacs… women.”

“Let’s get a move on,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of Gray traveling alone, even if it’s to scout ahead.”

Darius grumbled, but made no objection as they mounted their steeds and started forward, leaving their camp behind. Before they left, they always made sure to brush down their camp with a large frond to ensure no one could tell anyone had been there. As for their footprints, they’d figured occasional winds would cover their tracks. She wasn’t sure what they had to be afraid of, but there seemed to be no sense in taking any chances. She couldn’t imagine Farhaven having bandits or thieves, but at the very least, it put her mind at ease.

As they rode, she took in the landscape. The desert was dappled with bright green bushes that moved, swishing without so much as a hint of a breeze. She looked to the rogue who wore a pensive face as he stared at the desert ahead. “Darius?”

He looked over at her, swaying in his saddle. “Yes?”

“What are you thinking?”

His eyes scrunched, looking thoughtful. “I don’t like the silence of the past few days.”

“Gray said as much. He thinks there is something watching us,” she revealed.

“I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right,” Darius said with a shiver. His hand idly reached for the dagger in the folds of his new clothes. She was so accustomed to the rogue’s secondhand rags that the fitted dark coat, polished boots, and deep black pants he now wore seemed odd. He wore an earth-green cloak of Elvin fabric and design, a long pointed hood with vines embroidered on its edge,
which Karil had also gifted them. And while he often complained about the color—“the very worst of colors” as Darius put it, “no color that resembles vomit should be respected”—he still seemed to wear the cloak with pride. More than once she had seen him admiring the meticulous Elvin needlework—the flowing vines and silver-stitched leaves so graceful and vibrant that they almost appeared alive.

Now, as he scratched his patchy stubble with his eyes fixed ahead, she realized she had grown comfortable around Darius—almost more so than Gray. There was less mystery around the rogue, but still she knew he had his secrets, as did she. For instance, why else was he here? The rogue seemed pulled by something more. Maybe they both were, she admitted. But who had Darius left behind in Lakewood? Sometimes she wanted to ask, but she saw the pain in his eyes when she brought up Lakewood. For both of them, it was still too raw a wound to discuss.

“This land…” he continued, “it’s strange. I’ve never felt so at peace and yet so on edge all at the same dicing time. It’s like an inn full of music and cards that I’m sure to win, but beneath the table everyone is brandishing their daggers.”

She nodded in agreement. “We’ll just be careful.”

He agreed, and they continued until Ayva saw something on the horizon. A stand of bright green glimmered. It looked like a forest.

“Do you see that?”

He nodded. “It’s real.” Sometimes there had been false images.
Mirages,
she had read.

“Do you think Gray is in there?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, but don’t stray too far from me.” With that, he spurred his cormac—
Mirkal,
he had begun to call it. When she questioned earlier why or what it meant, he had shrugged, saying it simply “felt right”.

She nodded and veered her cormac closer. It listened with the slightest of commands. In fact, she didn’t even remember pulling her reins—it was almost as if the beast had
felt
her intention and reacted.

They neared quickly.

That was good. Sometimes things could seem a mile away and take days to reach, and other times a place may seem impossibly far and take mere minutes. The desert was strange that way. She wondered if such was the case with all of Farhaven.

They stopped at the edge of the stand of trees. Inside, light illuminated the glade, streaming down like pillars of brilliant gold. The trees were thick, as if she had ventured into the heart of an ancient forest. Otherwise, there was no Gray, nor sign of life.

Darius grumbled to himself, “Fool! What is he doing? Getting himself lost without us?”

“Right? I thought that was your job,” she said then patted her cormac—she would have to come up with a name for the beautiful animal, but nothing yet had felt right. “Well, no use waiting out here,” she said before the rogue could retort, and she spurred the creature forward.

“Argh, wait up!” Darius cried, racing to catch up.

They entered, and cool air met them. Ayva took a deep breath and felt a heavier magic in the air. She saw more motes of gold floating before her eyes.
This place… it is truly magical…
As they wove through the majestic trees, she saw signs of life. Flowers dappled the bright, moss-covered ground—red, blue, green, white, purple, and a hundred other colors Ayva didn’t even know existed. Nearby, butterflies the size of her head flitted from branch to flower. Their wings were silver and gold. She found her breath taken by the beauty of it all. Even Darius whistled through his teeth at the sight. They wove through a last batch of willow-like trees, and Ayva gasped at the sight before her. At her side, Darius cursed.

Beyond them was a large clearing. In the center, there was a body of water, large enough to be bigger than a pond but smaller than a lake, and around it, life flourished. There were mushrooms the size of stools with speckled tops, and ferns that dipped their branches into the cool water. The ground was grass in most places, and in others, moss that was green, blue, and even blood red. Huge, shelled creatures moved slowly amid the cerulean water, several of them awkwardly scooting upon the grassy ground, like reptilian children learning to walk. At the other end of the lake, Ayva saw a flock of green-feathered birds standing on two long legs, bathing. They looked up at their entrance but then paid the humans no mind. Above the water, dozens of butterflies danced among the hanging specks of gold.

“Dicing dice,” Darius cursed. “What is this place?”

Ayva shook her head, at a loss for words. Quickly, she dismounted and approached the water. Darius joined her. The warm sun blanketed her, and she felt alive, as if feeding off its vitality. Smaller butterflies flitted around her, and she heard an enchanting hum in the air like music. She reached down to touch one of the shelled reptiles and felt a hand upon her shoulder. She nearly leapt out of her skin. Turning, she saw Gray’s familiar face wearing an impish smile.

“Gray!” Immediately she rose and hugged him. At first he didn’t respond, but then he returned the gesture, and she felt his strong arms. She pushed away. “You nearly scared me half to death! What did you think you were doing, leaving us like that then jumping out of nowhere? Where have you been?”

Standing there, Gray looked different.
Powerful
, she thought. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore his usual threadbare gray cloak with its crossed swords, but now he wore new clothes, another gift of Karil’s—dark pants and a shirt with a fitted gray vest, cinched by a leather belt with a white-metal buckle. Upon his arms were leather bracers with silver accents. Stubble from the days of travel now began to grow evenly along his cheeks, and dark brown hair dangled about his shoulders. He held her gaze, just like the night before, making her swallow. “To be honest,” Gray said, “I saw you both a bit ago, but I wanted to see your reaction to this place. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Ayva was silent, raptured in the moment. The sun grew toasty upon her cheek, and she held up a hand, watching as the butterflies danced around it like a pole in the center green of the Harvest Festival, wanting nothing more than to let the moment continue forever.

“Amazing, indeed,” Darius breathed, “but
what
is it?”

“It’s a sanctuary,” Gray said.

Drawn back by her curiosity, Ayva questioned, “From what? And how do you know that?” He seemed to know more and more of late, but where was he getting his answers? Did he have some book he’d not shared?

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “But whatever the reason, it explains why we haven’t seen much of the inhabitants of Farhaven until now.”

“And as for how you knew?” Darius asked.

“I’m a Devari.”

Ayva raised a curious brow. “And that means?”

“I thought you had heard Karil or Maris explain it,” he said, but she shook her head. “Well, Devari live in Farbs. I guess they, and I, have this power called the ki. I’m not very good with it yet, but it allows me to sense other beings, humans or animals, to feel how they feel.”

“Like empathy?” she asked.

“That and more. I literally
am
those creatures for a time, inhabiting their bodies with my mind.”

“That sounds… terrifying,” Darius said with a shiver.

He shook his head. “It’s not really. In fact, it’s amazing to truly connect and understand another creature. I can feel these animals. They are afraid, but here they feel safe… Like a beast in a self-made cage. A cage they feel is closing in around them.”