Fire Heart (The Titans: Book One) (21 page)

“Well, I could always stay the night,” Will said with a laugh and a wink.

Clare laughed too, but it was forced.
I like him
, she realized.
A lot. I've only known him for two weeks—no, not even that!
She furrowed her brow.

“Are you well?” Will asked.

“Yes, sorry.” She forced another laugh. “Just this damned heat, you know?”

“Right. Well, anyway, good night.”

“...Good night.”

He was gone a moment later, the door closing with a quiet click behind him. Clare fell back onto the bed with a groan. What in the name of the Void was going on? From the first moment she'd laid eyes on Will, even in his battered and bleeding state, she had felt something for him. Had she just been out of contact with humanity for too long? Perhaps her hunt for vengeance had made her crave interaction with other people without her realizing it. But...there was that sensation that she got whenever she saw him...like she had seen him before. Like she had known him all her life.

“What do you think, boy?” she called, laying her arm across her eyes. Grim whined in answer, and she heard heavy footfalls as he got to his feet and padded over to her. He snuffled in her ear, and she turned to look at him. “Am I just lonely?” Grim woofed and cocked his head. “Well, what, then? I've only known him for...five days, really, since he was unconscious for most of it. It doesn't
feel
that way, though.” Grim stared blankly at her. “So...what? Do you think this is real?” He licked her face and wagged his tale, and she laughed and roughed up the fur around his head.

She lay on her back for some time, staring at the ceiling and idly scratching Grim behind the ears. The light from the setting sun became gradually darker, until the room was so dim that she could barely see. Will's smiling face danced before her, and no matter which way she turned she couldn't get him out of her mind. She thought back to their short journey together, reminiscing with a faint smile on her lips.

“I'm glad I met you.”

“I'm going with Clare.”

Her heart jumped in her chest.
What is this?
When she finally fell asleep, it was to the memory of Will's hands reaching out to catch her as he fell.
His hands are gentle,
she thought.
So rough, but so gentle.

~

Clare awoke to the sound of Grim pawing at the door. She got silently to her feet and crept over to him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What is it?” she whispered, stifling a yawn. He whined and pawed the door again, scraping his nails noisily across the wood. Clare shushed him and listened intently; she had learned never to take Grim's antics lightly, as they had saved her life on more than one occasion.
After a moment she heard low voices conversing down in the tavern, and her curiosity was piqued.

Moving as silently as she could, she eased the door open and crept out with Grim at her heels. He moved like a ghost, making barely a sound as he slunk through the darkness.

“...you need to rouse the guards,” a woman's voice was saying. She had a thick desert accent, and her voice sounded like the wind on a summer day—light and warm, but confident and strong at the same time. “The yaru will be here soon, I am sure of it. We killed twelve only this evening, and they were headed toward the city.”

At the mention of the yaru, Clare became instantly awake.
They're coming here? Oh spirits above, the Pradians...

“I see.” That was Castor's voice. “Do you know how many there are?”

“I do not. It could be fifty, or it could be several hundred. I am thinking it is closer to the latter, though, which is why you must prepare for an assault, yes?”

By that point Clare had reached the bottom of the stairs, and she could see the speakers clearly. She crouched behind the railing in an attempt to make herself smaller while Grim crept away into the shadows, awaiting her command.

Castor stood across a table from three desert nomads, so very out of place in their strange Eastlander garb. There was a woman, and two men who stood behind her with their arms folded menacingly. All three wore armor and weapons, and carried themselves in a way that left no doubt about their ability to handle themselves. The woman was obviously the one in charge, evidenced in part by her beautiful bronze and steel armor. It was decorated with a menagerie of whorls and swirls that evoked thoughts of the wind.

Castor rubbed his eyes with one hand. “This is bad,” he murmured. “I've only got five hundred of my men, and another four hundred city guards that we're still training.”

“That is all?” the woman asked, a thoughtful look on her face. She seemed untroubled by the shortage.

“Yes.”

“Why so few?”

“Because we killed the rest of the guards while completing the job
you
gave us!” Castor exploded, throwing his hands in the air. The two bodyguards reached none-too-subtly for their swords.

“Was that absolutely necessary?” the woman asked.

“There were a thousand of them,” Castor said, “and only five hundred of us. And tell your men to quit acting tough, or I'll run them through.” Clare noticed that, though still in his nightclothes, he had taken the time to strap his side-sword on before meeting the woman.

The two men did not relax, but the woman held up a hand. “Please, I do not wish to fight.”

Castor harrumphed. “How do three people go about killing a dozen yaru, anyway?” He eyed them as though seeing them for the first time. “You look like you can handle yourselves, but still. Do you have a larger force? More troops that can help us?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she sighed. “But we are sufficient.”

Castor burst out laughing. “Three people is 'sufficient'.” He threw his hands up in mock supplication. “Thank the bloody Old God! Help has arrived!”

“The Old God,” the woman said in a dead voice, and oddly, the room seemed to darken—lantern flames guttered as though in a strong wind, and the fire pit at the center of the tavern shrank back from some unseen force. “How amusing. You humans have forgotten the old ways. Perhaps it is time you started to believe once more.”

“Believe? Believe in what—”

A bolt of electricity lashed out from the woman's body, burning a black, smoldering line across the wall to her left. Castor stumbled back, nearly tripping over a chair. Clare stifled a gasp.

“The yaru are on the move,” the woman continued. “This has not happened for five hundred years—not since the Great Fall. Right now we are your only hope for salvation. I would not mock us so
lightly, were I you.”

Castor gaped. “Wait, what are you...?”

Clare started as she felt a hand settle lightly on her shoulder, and she twisted around to see Will kneeling behind her. “What's going on?” he whispered. “I heard the most tremendous noise and—”

He stopped, staring straight ahead at the desert woman. His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Serah?” he called, loudly enough for her to hear, and both Castor and the bodyguards froze.

The woman jerked as though shot with an arrow and spun around, her eyes wide. “You,” she whispered.

“Me,” Will said with a grin, though his eyes betrayed a hint of reservation.

“I knew you were alive,” Serah breathed, and she dashed across the room without warning to seize Will in an embrace, nearly knocking Clare to the floor along the way. Will, for his part, looked completely bemused, and gently patted Serah on the back as though she might bite.

“What happened to you?” the desert woman asked, stepping away from him and eyeing his scars. Clare noticed abruptly that he was shirtless, and couldn't help but stare at the muscles rippling along his bare torso. She mentally shook herself.

“Well,” said Will, “I was attacked by yaru, they beat me nearly to death, and Clare here saved me.” He indicated Clare with his hand, and Serah turned toward her. “It's a very exciting story. I'll tell you the whole thing sometime. Perhaps you can tell it to children around a fire at the celebration for the next city we liberate.”

A look of disquiet passed across Serah's face. She stared at Clare as though seeing something vaguely horrifying, but said nothing. Clare lowered her gaze, suddenly uncomfortable.

“How in the
Void
did you do that?” Castor suddenly exploded, and everyone looked at him. He pointed at the black line on the wall, which continued to sizzle and sputter fitfully. “What in the name of all things holy...how did you
do
that?!”

Serah held up her hand then, and silence settled upon the room. She drew Will forward, and—strangely—the two bodyguards knelt and bowed their heads as though to a lord. Will looked just as confused as Clare felt, and he shot her a questioning glance. She shook her head and shrugged.

“I am a Titan,” Serah said
. T
he words were a shocking declaration
, and Clare gaped
. “Mankind is in grave peril once again. We have come out of hiding, finally, after five hundred years, because of you.” She directed those last words at Will, who arched an eyebrow and leaned away from her.

“Me?”

“Yes. You, Willyem, are the reincarnation of the Dragon King.” Serah's voice had taken on an almost mystical tone. “One half of the soul of Koutoum, the Titan of fire. I wanted to wait to tell you until we were safe, but unfortunately I have been spurred prematurely into action.”

The reaction was predictable: stunned silence from Will, Clare, and Castor, and then Will burst out laughing. “I was right!” he cried, slapping his unhurt thigh. He jabbed a finger at Serah's face. “I
knew
it! I
knew
you were a madwoman!”

“Will, don't make her angry,” Castor said, his eyes wide. “See that burn mark on the wall? She did that.”

“It's true,” said Clare, and she suddenly got the distinct feeling that Serah was, in fact, telling the truth—or what she believe to be the truth, at any rate. “Lightning just shot out of her like...like...I don't even know. What are you?” she directed the last bit at the desert woman.

“I am Serah, the embodiment of the goddess Sorr, and until my death the Lady of the Sky.” She looked at Will. “And your sister, at least in spirit.”

Will raised both of his eyebrows, and then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Have all of you been drinking?” he grumbled. “You know what? I'm going back to bed.”

“Wait,” said Serah, and she seized his wrist as he turned away. She was apparently very strong, for Will jerked to a halt obviously not of his own accord. “Do not believe me, then. But there is something you must know—this city will come under attack by what I am sure are the same yaru you fought earlier.
I am not certain when they will come, but I can promise you that it will be soon. We need to flee immediately.”

Will jerked his wrist out of her grasp, his face dark. “Flee?” he said quietly. His soft voice belied the anger in his eyes, and Clare found herself suddenly frightened. “Did you just say flee?” He looked over at Castor. “We need to get the men ready
now
,” he said, and then turned back to Serah. “You're telling me that great horde of yaru is going to attack the city—full of innocent people—and you want me to
flee?
”

“Your survival is paramount—”

“I don't give a damn,” h
e
snarled
,
and the sudden surge of anger made Clare flinch
. “We're talking about innocent lives here, and the Ravens are the reason they're defenseless. Don't think for a
n
instant
I'll abandon them to die.” He turned away, stalking back up the stairs. “And don't think I'll leave my men to fight without me. I've lost too many of them to have you drag me away when they need me most. And I'm not your Dragon King!” Then he was gone.

Clare stared at the empty spot left in his absence, unsure what to say. Serah simply looked at the ground, an unreadable expression on her face, and tapped her fingers lightly on the hilt of her sheathed sword.

“Clare,” Castor said behind her, breaking the awkward silence, and she turned to him. “Will you fight with us?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Excellent. I'll go send word to rouse the men.” And a moment later he, too, was gone.

Clare looked at Serah then, meeting the woman's dark eyes with her own. “You know,” Clare began softly, “on our way back here, we stopped at the village where his men were killed. He found a wood flute. I think it belonged to one of his men. I've never seen a man so broken as Will after he found that flute.” She looked down at her hands for a moment. “I don't think he'll ever again let one of his charges die.”

“That is what frightens me,” Serah whispered. “Should he be killed, all will be lost.”

Clare stared at her. “You really believe he's the...a Titan, don't you?”

“I know he is. Months ago, I felt a surge of power so great that it could only have been the Dragon King. I have felt that same power many times in my life; there is no mistaking it.” She walked a short distance away and slowly traced her fingers along the wood grains of one of the tables. “I will do anything to ensure his safety. I owe a great debt that remains to be paid.” Her hair fell down around her face, and she flipped it back, glancing at Clare. “Can I count on you to protect him?”