Fireborn Champion (17 page)

He brushed a hand through her braids. His fingers caressed her jaw. She didn’t stop him. That sent his heart fluttering. “You are the most loyal person I know, Ayska. You gave Sander and I your word you’d give us safe passage, and even facing down Brother Caspran, you kept us safe. Your crew loves you because you love them. You’d give your life for them. I can see that. And Kalila, her world is everything to you.”

Her lip quivered again. “Thank you. I just wish…I wish I could rewrite the past. The deeper scars you can’t see, and they’ll never fade.”

Instinct took command of Iron’s heart. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft as lily blossoms, warm as the sea’s breath, and passionate as a true believer. His arm wrapped around her, bringing her closer, and for the eternity that passes within a first kiss, the world and its problems faded beneath the glittering sky.
 

“Iron!” Sander’s voice shattered their moment, and the burden of a broken world came crashing down once again.

Ayska pulled away. She straightened her vest and smiled, heading for the tower. “We’ll pick up practice with Loyal Stance again tomorrow.” Her tone was a steel door slamming shut over her heart. “You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready.”

Sander whipped into view as she twisted beside him and disappeared into the hall. The man arched a curious brow as his bleary gaze followed her inside. “What was all that about?”

“Don’t you worry, master. I wasn’t making friends.” Sander never said anything about someone becoming more than that, and for the first time in his journey, he realized he very much wanted more than that. “You looked like you were having fun down there. Figures it was all just a show to keep me from having any.”

His master waved dismissively and spun on his heel toward the tower. “Get back downstairs and enjoy yourself. We might not have many more of these calm nights left to us.”

Iron shot a parting glance at the Mother’s constellation. Y
our shrine, I’ll find it. Your shame, I’ll learn it. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll forgive it. Are you a god, or are you an avalanche?

Whatever Iron and Ayska shared on the balcony that night did not repeat in the following days no matter how hard he tried to crack her steely shell. Instead, they practiced Loyal Stance from sunrise to sunset in the narrow passage weaving up the tower like a snake around a throat. In the morning, they started at the tower’s base. By sunset, they reached its peak.

Iron’s quick learning surprised even Sander. When once he could hardly remain upright, now Iron nearly equaled Ayska’s skill. He suspected his kiss made her uncomfortable and the unease had bled into her confidence as a duelist and a teacher. That shamed him more than anything. Iron needed the strong Ayska, the wisecracking, smarmy Ayska who’d gotten under his skin so much in Ormhild. That Ayska didn’t have any faults. Now, she was like the Six. Something admired, but imperfect.
 

Why then did he still want to be near her sunrise to long after sunset? Nothing made sense.

Maybe his new weapon gave him some kind of power and skill the others couldn’t comprehend. While everyone saw the simple steel blade, Iron knew the truth. This gently arced sword that glowed day or night, light as a feather and sharper than any steel, it must grant him some kind of godly boon. If he’d received this gift in Skaard, he would have accepted it eagerly. Knowing the truth, knowing that the gods he loved used others to fight their wars and in doing so left the world in ashes twisted his stomach into a greasy knot.
 

Iron brandished a sword coated in muck that only he could see. He hated it, but for some reason, he just couldn’t let Fang go.

Ayska withdrew, and they spilled into the small balcony circling the topmost tower level. The sun set directly behind her. The disc tore the horizon into bands of orange and red. It painted clouds with fire and gave her a brilliant aura that sparkled over her braids and turned the beads of sweat on her brow into diamonds.

“I didn’t land a hit today,” she said with a smile. “You’re a scarily fast learner.”

Sander reclined on the tower wall, peeling a fruit he’d found growing on a lower balcony. Orange, he’d called it, after its color. He gave Iron a taste. It was good, sweet. The man often waited for them at the tallest floor, a habit Iron noted with more than a little irritation.

His master nodded and wiped a line of juice slipping down his chin. “He’s okay when he listens. Maybe if I’d had a pair like you—”

“Sander, shut up,” Iron hissed.
 

“What? I was talking about her
swords
.”

He scowled at his master as he sheathed Fang. Sweat soaked his shirt and plastered his hair against his brow. He wiped the moisture from his face and breathed in the wind as it came whistling from the west. “I’m starving.”

Ayska made her way to the tower. “I’m sure Thip has some grub ready for us. I could use a bite myself.”

Sander tossed his orange peel and pushed from the wall. “Shall we? I hope it’s not that fig concoction he made the other day. They turned bitter when—”

A trumpet blast rocked Spineshell, cutting Sander’s words short. Ayska’s face paled, her hands moving to her swords while Iron and Sander traded worried glances.
 

“What is it?” Iron asked.

Ayska bolted into the tower. “Alarm! Ships sighted at sea. Gods be dammed, we’re all the way up in this stupid tower!”

Iron and Sander sprinted to the balcony rail. Maybe it was just a merchant vessel that wandered into Spineshell’s treacherous waters. Maybe everything would be fine. He leaned over and stared into the setting sun. Nothing appeared on the horizon. “Maybe they’re coming from the east?”

A shrill cry filled the sky as a flock of birds tore like demons toward the clouds, coming from below. They encased the tower in a veil of shifting black and white. Iron knew those birds, and he remembered who commanded them.
 

Sander cursed and grabbed Iron’s shoulder, spinning him toward the tower. “The bastards snuck up on us somehow. Get inside! To the ship!”

They raced toward the tower. Iron already had his hand on his sword. “He’s here, Sander! How could he come here without being seen?”

Birds screeched and screamed and pierced the evening. Iron dove inside and sprinted down the corridor.

“I know,” Sander called. “I don’t know how he found us, but he did.”

“What do we do?”
 

“Survive first. Plan later. Let your instincts guide you. Sinner, save us, this is going to be a close one!”

It’s not up to the Sinner
, Iron thought darkly.
It’s up to us
.

Iron screamed Ayska’s name. Caspran had returned. He wouldn’t leave them unscathed. Visions of the crew flashed through Iron’s mind. Vigal’s toothy smile. Round Gil’s red cheeks and glittering eyes. Thip sniffing steaming trails of his stew. Fiolle’s stalwart exterior hiding an ocean of emotion within it. Kalila, giggling at a blossom she’d just sniffed. Ayska.
Ayska
.

Round and round Iron ran as he descended the tower’s seemingly endless floors. A shudder rocked the structure, and he tumbled, his knees smacking the floor. He winced as Sander plucked him to his feet. “They’re attacking the tower. They want to collapse the whole damnable thing on our heads!”

“We’ve got to find the others,” Iron roared as another shockwave slammed the building and smashed him against the wall. A terrifying shearing sound ripped through the hallway, and the tower swayed.

“Get out on the next balcony, Iron,” Sander called through the chaos.

“But the crew—”

“Isn’t stupid enough to be in the tower unless they’re already dead. We’ll be dead too if we don’t get out of this soon-to-be tomb, boy!”

Without another warning, Sander shoved Iron onto one of the large lower balconies. He stumbled and fell, tripping on some kind of spindly bush. Iron slammed his hands on the floor, twisting to curse at his master.

An explosion blasted against the seaward side of the tower. Black smoke rocketed in a ring against the blue stone, hurling chunks of the building in every direction. Long cracks forced their way across the smooth wall. The tower gave a final shudder like a dying man’s last breath. Its top half twisted, and it collapsed, the balcony plummeting with Sander and Iron on it.

Sander reached for Iron, and Iron reached for him. All anger vanished in his panic, and for a brief moment, he was a little boy again, and all he wanted were his master’s arms.

The balcony hit the sea. The stone blasted a wall of water and foam over the garden. Iron’s fingers graced Sander’s and almost took hold. Almost.

The explosive wave hit like a boulder and flung Iron into the sea. His fingers left his master’s, and he hit the waves.
 

Iron woke with a scream on his lips. All was black. Still. No, wait—his vision returned. There was a light, a faint light. It illuminated his world with a silver glow. He knew that glow. His sword? Yes, that cursed gift for the Fireborn of the Third Sun.

The light moved. Why did it move? His head hurt and his world drifted in a nauseating spin. Another cough racked his chest, and he hacked out the last of the seawater burning his lungs.
 

He was in a room. Not a large one, but circular with a domed ceiling that spiraled to a point like the inside of a seashell. The sea welled up from a hole in the floor and formed a pond in the center of the room. Gods, these alps could build a beautiful city but they really needed sturdier floors. A trail of moisture glimmered from the water to where he lay. Someone had dragged him from the sea and most likely saved his life.

“Sander?” He pressed the heel of his palm against his temple and tried to remember those last chaotic moments on the tower balcony.
 

Sander didn’t reply, so Iron tried again. “Where are you, Sander?”

His voice echoed on on the bare walls. Movement scraped against the floor, coming from behind. Fear lanced up his spine. He spun around, clumsily coming to his feet and ready to spring should it Caspran stand before him.
 

He recognized the figure, and thankfully she did not wear pale trappings. Kalila hunched in the corner. Cuts and bruises painted her arms and legs. She shivered, hands cupping her wide face as she sobbed in the shadows. Seawater plastered her hair against her temples and dripped down her arms, where it collected in fat drops at her elbows.

“Kalila, did you save me? Thank you.” He shuffled over to her and clasped her forearms. She recoiled like his touch was acid and sobbed harder, burying her face in her hands.
 

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” He tried clasping her again, but she wailed and scrambled back.
 

So no touching, then. Ayska knew how to deal with her sister. Iron wished she was here to help. If she was even alive.
 

Caspran found them, but how? Iron looked at the facts before them, and one conclusion stood above the rest.

A spy lived amongst the crew of the
Scarlet Widow
, and Iron would find them once he rejoined them. Gods, he would find that spy and he would make them pay if Caspran so much as scratched a single one of his friends.
 

But first, he had to get them out of this coffin. “Okay.” Iron took a deep breath and scooted closer. “How would Ayska do this? How does Ayska reach you?”

Iron thought back to all those days and nights they spent together. None of the crew ever touched Kalila. Even Ayska hardly touched her sister. Kalila always touched them first, and when they spoke to her, they used calm, direct words.

He opened his hands and upturned his palms. He exhaled and smiled.
 

“Kalila,” he said, his voice a soothing whisper. “We must go.”

Her frightened shivering calmed. He caught the glimmer of her eye peeking between her hands. His soothing smile widened. “Kalila, we must leave. Thank you for saving me. Now let me save you.”
 

Kalila’s face left her hands. Tears and seawater rolled in curving lines down her cheeks. Her hair was a tangled mess over her brow, but even then, he saw the brilliance in her eyes, set like gemstones deep within a mine shaft.

“Please,” he said, even more softly.

She reached for him. Her hands clasped his forearms, but despite the strength in that grip, her touch was soft as silk. Slowly, Iron clutched her forearms and together they stood.
 

Iron tugged her toward the pool. He had no idea how he’d get her in it, but at least they made progress. Kalila’s dark eyes flicked to the water and back to him. She shook her head and moaned, her lip trembling.

“Don’t worry. I will keep you safe, but we have to go.”

Kalila fought his gentle tug. Iron smiled to mask his frustration. “Kalila,” he cooed, “we must go.”

She pulled Iron to a stop, and his heart dropped. They stood so close to the pool, yet no matter how much he tried, she wouldn’t budge another step and neither would she release him.
 

Iron glanced to the side and thought. Ayska could get her sister to do things. Then again, they were sisters. Iron barely knew Kalila and hadn’t even spoken to the woman, if Kalila even understood speech. No, she must understand it, her eyes said as much. Iron looked into those eyes, those fiery orbs trapped in pools of brown, an intelligence barricaded by stubborn flesh.
 

“Ayska is in trouble,” Iron said.

Kalila’s eyes fixed on him. He saw the distant spark flare.
 

“Ayska needs us.”

Kalila’s grip tightened. That was the key.

“Ayska needs
you
, Kalila.”

Her lips parted in a little o he prayed was recognition. Just as quickly, the o disappeared into a flat and expressionless line. Iron slumped. Maybe another tactic would work…

The woman spun around and lurched toward the wall. Iron nearly slipped and crashed into the water. By the time he regained his balance, she reached the wall and balled her fist into a tight brick. A scream ripped through the room as her fist collided with the stone.