The Knife's Edge (19 page)

He ushered Darius to silence and motioned to the rooftops.

“Looks like we’ve found you at last,” said a voice in the dark.

Before he could react a second voice sounded from the rooftop to their left.

“What are you doing, Maris? We were told to inform the others at once when we found him.”

Gray followed the voices, his eyes straining in the dark, when the first voice replied, “Ah, you never let me have any fun, Baro. Besides…”

“We’re already here,” said a dark whisper and a man stepped out from the shadows. He was slender with fitted gray breeches, and a long matching vest. Diamond-shaped vambraces were etched with the symbol of a sun. His heavy white cloak brushed the ground. In the moon’s dim light, he saw that the man wore a white cloth mask that obscured all but his cold blue eyes. One thing was certain. This man was far more powerful than the Nameless. “Where did he go?” The man asked.

In the corner of his vision, Gray saw Darius’ grip tighten on the dagger behind his back. Gray caught the rogue’s eye and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t,” said another voice in the dark. A fourth voice? How many are out there? Darius let out a sudden yelp as his dagger clattered to the wet ground. The rogue rubbed his hand as if burned, as he searched the darkness.

Gray stepped forth. “What do you want? Who are you looking for?”

“Das de rah hand da,” said the voice in the dark.

“We will not torture the innocent, Seth,” the masked figure said. “I will only ask this once. The man who saved you from the Nameless, what did he say? And do you know who he is?”

“Kail,” he answered. “And he said nothing.”

“Gray, what are you talking about?” Darius asked. “You saw Kail?” In a flash of red, a shadow appeared, and Darius crumbled to the wet stone. A man stood over him with a condescending look, his sword held in his loose grip.

Gray fell to his friend’s side. “What did you do that for?” With a cold sneer, the man turned. He wore a cloak with an insignia of a red flame. “Answer me!” Gray yelled, ready to lash out.

“Was that really needed, Seth?” said the voice upon the rooftops—the one that first spoke. “I’ve seen a cerabul drop from less.”

Seth shrugged. “He knew nothing. He was only going to cause more trouble.”

Gray’s fists clenched and a breeze swirled around him. He counted the voices again. Two on the rooftops, two on the ground. Four. He knew he couldn’t take that many, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Move aside, Seth,” said the white masked man. Though the words were barely a whisper, authority rang in his tone. Gray paused. Reluctantly, Seth stepped out of the way. The man knelt beside Gray, removing his fingerless gloves. “May I? I will not harm him.”

“How am I to trust you?” Anger seethed inside him.

“Unfortunately, you have little choice,” the man replied. “Please.” Gray moved back slightly. The man closed his eyes and put a hand to the back of Darius’ head. “Your friend will survive. He is merely unconscious,” he said and rose to his feet, replacing his frayed gloves smoothly. “Let’s try this again. What did Kail want from you?”

Gray shook his head, kneeling in the cold, wine-soaked street. “I told you the truth before,” he said and rose to his feet, “For the life of me, I don’t know what he wants. He is both savior and demon. At one moment he seems to want me dead and in the next he saves me. And truthfully, from where I’m standing? You seem more of a threat than Kail.”

Omni’s gaze bore into him. “You know more. Speak the whole truth, or I will listen to my friend in the shadows. I do not wish to harm innocents, but much is at stake.”

Gray cursed inwardly. Somehow the man could read him like a book. He remembered what Vera had said about Kail and the sword. “He seems to be after the sword, and yet…when he touched it last, it caused him pain,” Gray replied.

The man’s ice-blue eyes widened. “So Kail does not have the sword?”

He was curious at the man’s surprise. “No.”

The masked man turned, speaking to the shadows. “You all can come out now.”

Shadows moved upon the rooftops, and figures dropped, landing silently in the street. Each rose to their full height. Lit by the moon, he took them in from left to right. The first had a shock of white hair, and wore an amused expression. Dual blades protruded above his shoulders. To his right, stood a man with a barrel chest roughly the size of a horse. Next to him, a man squatted on the balls of his feet, watching Gray with apathy, and beside him, stood another, who was covered head to toe in dark gray and tucked away in the shadows, lit partially by the moon’s light. Standing behind the others were two men, one shorter with a curly beard and carrying a sword and shield. The other was taller with a hooked nose and a lantern jaw.

One, two… Eight men, he counted and suddenly, it all clicked. Maris, the Trickster. Baro, the Bull. Hiron, the King-Slayer. Dared, the Shadow. Aundevoriä, the Protector. Aurelious, the Confessor. He rattled their names and titles off in his head from left to right as he backed away. Every one of them appeared just like the stories—living legends in the flesh, all minus Kail.

The Ronin.

“You’re all supposed to be dead,” he whispered.

They ignored him, turning to the cloth-masked man. Omni, Gray now knew, adding his title to the rest. The Deceiver.

“What does it mean, Omni?” Baro asked in his rumbling bass.

“It means our friend is far more than he appears,” Maris answered as he leaned against the wall, and cleaned his nails with a dagger. Upon his back was Masamune, the legendary blade. The stories said it had seen endless blood and couldn’t be shattered.

Another spoke, Hiron, the one on the balls of his feet. His trademark dual daggers sat at either hip. Gray knew their names well—Calad and Láidir. “Te dá theobh le gech scéal,” Hiron whispered, then spoke aloud, “Then this also means the Traitor is truly not the rightful bearer of the sword.”

“We cannot presume that yet,” another replied—Aundevoriä. He stood next to his taller brother, Aurelious. Aundevoriä’s famed sword, Durendil, sat on his back, its wire-wrapped handle protruding over his shoulder. The stories formed in Gray’s mind, and he found himself watching it all in mute disbelief, as if it were a dream.

“It is the only thing we can assume! He is no longer a Ronin. His betrayal made that clear,” Seth replied, striding forth.

Gray recognized him as the one from the shadows—the one that wanted him tortured. While most of the Ronin were tall, Seth was taller. Each wore colored vests of subtle hues, what he remembered the stories called a haori; Maris’ was forest green, Aundevoriä’s the color of slate, Dared’s black as night, Omni’s silver, Hiron’s white like snow, Baro’s a dark, steely gray, Aurelious’ was flesh-colored, and Seth’s haori was a fiery red. His vest matched the blood-red sword at his hip called Heartgard. Seth, the Firebrand, he recalled. The rest of each the Ronin’s attire was dark earth tones, blending with the shadows.

“The boy may be lying,” Hiron said.

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m not lying,” he replied. He looked to Darius, hearing the rogue’s labored breaths. “I told you what you wanted to know, as promised, now leave us be.”

Omni spoke, watching him, “He speaks the truth, but the extent of it is still a mystery. We can, for the moment, assume Kail is not in control of the sword. As a result, it seems he is no longer our leader.” A gamut of emotions flickered across the other Ronin’s faces, too varied and convoluted for Gray to decipher. “That he no longer binds us would explain why I have not felt his presence for over a year.”

Maris spoke, “That explains the emptiness I sense.”

“I’ve sensed it too. We all have. But what about the boy?” Baro asked, rolling his massive shoulders.

“Kill him,” said Seth, raising his sinuous blade—a red flame ran across Heartgard’s surface. “He is of no use.”

Fear shot through Gray. He stepped back, searching for a way out but the Ronin surrounded him from all sides. Squaring his shoulders, he stood his ground. He would fight with every morsel of his being if he had to, though he did not think it would be a long fight.

Maris unsheathed his dual blades from his back and the ring of steel filled the alley. “You were already advised against that path, Seth. Do not press your luck.”

“Keep quiet, Maris,” Seth snapped. “If I have to watch your back from the Kagehass and scout for the traitor, I might just choose to drop one of those responsibilities.”

“Careful, Seth, you’re sounding like him now,” Baro rumbled, stepping forward.

Omni spoke calmly, silencing the bickering legends, “The boy is useful. And we do not kill innocents, Seth. If I am forced to repeat myself, I will be very displeased.”

Seth’s lip curled in disdain, but he fell silent.

“Then what now, Omni?” Maris asked eagerly, sheathing his blades. His fingers flitted at his side—the man’s infamous habit.

Omni looked away in thought, while the others watched, equally expectant, including Gray. “More answers and only more questions,” the Ronin whispered. Omni looked up at last. “We take the boy. Leave the other one—he serves no purpose and may only be hurt.”

“I’m not coming,” said Gray, standing beside Darius, “I’m staying with him.”

In a sudden flash, Omni disappeared. Gray flinched. In the same instant, he reappeared, an inch away from Gray’s face. Now, his eyes within his white mask were orbs of blue fire. “You will come, or your friend will die. Those are your choices.”

Gray returned the glare. “I thought you didn’t kill innocents,” he said, mustering his voice.

“Not unless I have to,” Omni answered.

At last, he looked away. “What am I to do?”

“You have been hiding one last thing.” Omni glanced to Gray’s hand. “Your hand has been itching to touch a sword ever since we arrived. I believe the sword you do not have, is the same one we seek. Take us to the sword, Gray.”

“Someone approaches,” Hiron said abruptly.

True enough, an echo sounded in the alley—footsteps on wet stone. Omni grabbed Gray and dragged him to the alley’s wet walls. Gray watched as the other Ronin disappeared before his eyes, shifting into the shadows.

* * *

Ayva opened the back door of the inn.

The cart sat in ruins, broken barrels littered the ground, and red wine ran through the cracks of the cobbled street. She growled beneath her breath. She should have known. Trouble always came in threes. Once the wise, twice the fool, thrice the blind, she quoted.

“I heard voices,” she called. “I know you’re out there!” Silence. Why are they not showing themselves? They didn’t seem like thieves. Surely it was just an accident. She spoke again, trying to hide her fear. “Gray? Are you out there?”

“Ayva?” A voice called, stepping forward and a face materialized from the shadows.

“Gray, thank the heavens!” she said with a breath of relief. “I knew someone was here. Why didn’t you respond? You scared me out of my right mind!” Then she paused and fixed him with a hard look. “What happened here?”

He grabbed her shoulders and she flinched. “Ayva, go back into the inn, right now!”

“Gray, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

“There’s no time to explain! Listen, go now, it’s not safe here!”

Anger rose inside her. “Where’s Darius? If this is some kind of sick ruse then you can just—” The clouds shifted, and she saw a body in the shadows. “Darius!” She ran to the rogue’s side, falling to her knees. “What happened? What’s wrong with him?” She touched the rogue’s head of unruly hair. It was wet. She gasped.

Gray pulled her to her feet. “Darius is fine, I promise! He’s only unconscious, but if you don’t leave soon…” He cut short as the nearby shadows moved again. Ayva tensed, as others stepped out of the darkness.

Eight men… She tried to form words, but nothing came out.

“It’s too late, Gray,” said a figure wearing a white shroud. “She stays.”

Distantly, Gray said something at her side, but Ayva didn’t hear as a man cloaked in black and red with a scarlet sword, flashed a demonic grin. A sudden dark light came to his eyes and his blade roared alive, hissing red flames.

“Ronin…” Ayva whispered in a cracked voice and fell into darkness.

* * *

With the Ronin at his side, Gray moved through the alleyways. The alley was dark and quiet, lit only by a wax-colored moon high above. The moon scuttled amid clouds, as if trying to hide. Gray understood that sentiment. He waited to run into a townsperson; waited for the shrieks of terror as a man or woman turned the corner to find the Ronin, nightmares of mankind, striding down the dark alley, but strangely they met no one. Instead, the alleys were empty. He judged they were closer to the outskirts of the town now, and some ways from the festivities of the center green. The quiet streets seemed unnatural. The figures that strode beside him with deadly grace didn’t seem to notice. He wondered if a person did appear if they wouldn’t simply kill them. Legendary slayers of men, he thought with disdain.

“You shouldn’t worry for your friends so much,” Omni said at his side, as if reading his thoughts.

Gray kept his voice low, but couldn’t keep the heat from it. “Why did he do that to Ayva?” he said, glancing to Maris. The man paid him no heed, moving like a wolf in the shadows.