The Knife's Edge (35 page)

The captain looked at the crowd. Gray saw his hesitancy and he leaned towards Karil, speaking in a low breath, “I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears at this point,” she whispered.

“Reveal yourself.”

Without question, Karil pulled back her scarlet hood and the guards gave looks of shock.

Seizing the moment, Gray spoke, “It was told to me that your people, this city, once had an opportunity to aid those in need long ago. Instead, they hid, cowering behind their high walls and forsaking all bonds. Thousands of elves died that day. Do you seek to repeat history, Captain? Or do you wish to rectify a tragedy and redeem the honor of your people?”

Mashiro eyed him a long hard moment, but only when he looked to Karil did his face soften. At last, he turned to his men, “Give the command. Open the gates.”

His men clapped fists to heart. Shouts were relayed and massive chains rattled. The giant double doors slowly opened. Upon the door was a huge teardrop of white and Gray recognized the symbol.

It was the flame of the Kingdom of Ice. One of the nine elements that stood for each Great Kingdom. The same symbol Hiron’s cloak bore. Gray watched as the excited villagers were herded towards the massive gates.

“What just happened there?” Darius said, nearing. “That was crazy, I was sure we weren’t going to get in, but then from out of nowhere they started barking orders and jumping like milk-fed stable hands!”

“Watch your words, Darius. If they hear you and change their mind it’ll be more than me that will want to have your hide,” Ayva admonished, and then leaned in close. “What did just happen there? How’d you change their mind, Gray?”

Darius scowled.

Gray motioned them to quiet as Captain Mashiro approached wearing a grimace. “These men here will see to an inn for you six.” To the men he said, “See them to the Dipping Tsugi.”

“And the villagers?” Gray asked.

“The rest will be given provisions in the Common District, and shelter will be found or made. That is all I can do.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Mura said.

Mashiro squinted into the light of the sun near its zenith. “A man will come for you before sunset, if the king is willing to see you.”

“If?” Darius questioned.

“This is no light matter, lives depend on this, Captain,” Mura cautioned.

“And I will present your request with the fervor you have shown, but it is his Majesty’s decision whether or not to see you.” Mashiro turned to leave. “If that is all—”

“Wait,” Karil interrupted, “Let me come.” The captain’s eye narrowed. “Take me with you, to ensure the King understands the weight of this matter.”

“So be it,” he said at last.

“I am the queen’s personal guard. I go as well,” Rydel said. He sat ramrod straight on his horse, and seemed unlikely to back down.

“I will not take a whole procession unannounced to his majesty, King of the Shining City, last of the Great Kingdoms. You will stay.”

“He will not be coming,” Karil interrupted. She turned to Rydel and lowered her voice to a whisper though Gray overheard, “Pick your fights my friend. You know this is possibly more important than any of us. The king must be informed of the real threat—the Kage. I can protect myself. Please don’t worry. See to the others and secure us an inn. Keep them safe.”

Rydel never took his eyes off the captain. Finally, he gave a slight nod to Karil.

“We leave now,” the captain said. He spurred his horse, and with the guards in tow they made their way through the gates and towards the king, their hopes riding with them.

As Gray watched them leave, a small weight lifted from his shoulders. He had gotten them this far, and it had seemed impossibly hard. The next step was out of his hands. He felt suddenly exhausted. He swayed in the saddle and at the same time Fael’wyn danced to one side nearly toppling him.

“Whoa! Easy there!” Darius called. “Dice, are you all right? I don’t know about you, but I could use a cold brew and from the looks of it, you need a good night’s sleep.”

Gray laughed. “I’ll take you up on that, but if I do sleep, you think you can stay out of trouble on your own?”

Darius’ words were suddenly cut off by a long, continuous creak from the doors ushered all to silence as the city was unveiled.

Spellbound

G
RAY GAWKED AT THE SCENE BEFORE
him.

Houses lined a paved road of ivory brick, the smallest of which could fit ten or more of Mura’s simple cabins with room to spare. Each roof was a colorful mosaic of blue, green and yellow clay tiles with eaves elegantly curled like fingers, and tiled spines like vertebrae. Straight ahead was a channel of turquoise water that ran crossways to the street. A white bridge spanned it, leading deeper into the warrens of the Shining City. But first and foremost, Gray noticed the people.

Farm carts and wagons ran back and forth along the smooth road. A line of men came to and fro from a giant white and blue marbled building with thick columns and a series of stairs, the tallest and grandest of all the nearby structures. They jostled jute sacks over their broad shoulders, piling them onto a large boat that sat in the channel.

Darius whistled through his teeth.

The sharp ping of a blacksmith’s hammer rang in the distance, soft music filtered from the inns, and the sounds of trade flooded the air. Those closest to the gates stared fearfully or in awe at the ragged newcomers.

“Well, no use wasting time here, right?” Darius said with a breath of excitement.

Gray urged Fael’wyn forward and the others followed. Side alleys branched from the main road that led to green courtyards lined with trees bursting with pink flowers, stone benches, and viewing pools. Upon the canals, slender boats skimmed along the water, brimming with trade goods, sacks of flour, stone bricks or even squawking geese. The men or women who manned the boats carried slender wood poles to urge the vessels along. Here and there, the canals fed to quiet pools where other boats sat moored. The water reflected the white city around them.

“Light, this place is beautiful,” Darius said. “I wonder what the inn is going to be like. I’m so used to the hovels of Lakewood.” The rogue’s eyes were wide, as if he were already picturing the pints of frothing beer and smiling waitresses.

“Lakewood’s inns weren’t hovels,” Ayva replied.

“Have you seen where we are?” Darius scoffed. “This is what a city is supposed to look like!”

Ayva’s brows furrowed. “You’re a fool,” she said. “The Golden Horn had twice the heart and warmth of any place here I’d bet.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied.

“Take it back, Darius,” she said.

Gray kicked the rogue’s calf, hoping the fool would realize that he was touching a sore subject, and at last he threw up his hands, “All right fine! Sheesh, the Golden Horn was a step above the others, but they all were …” Darius saw Gray’s look and he coughed into a hand. He spoke again, softer, “Look, the Golden Horn was great, but all I’m saying, is by comparison, I’m pretty sure—the Golden Horn excluded—the rest of them will look more like Mistress Sophi’s outhouses than inns. Speaking of which, I think I’m ready to take you up on that drink you promised me, Gray.”

“Interesting, I don’t seem to remember a promise like that,” he replied.

Darius slapped his back, “You’ve had a lot on your mind. I forgive you.”

Gray laughed when an image flashed in a nearby alley. Twin swords. He pulled Fael’wyn short, gazing down a dark alley mashed between two marbles walls, but he saw only shadows.

A hand clasped Gray’s shoulder and he startled.

“Gray?” A soft voice asked. Ayva’s light blue eyes met his, creased with concern.

“I thought I saw something, but I guess I was wrong.”

Darius shrugged. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ayva asked.

“I suppose I’m just tired. My eyes were simply playing tricks on me.”

“All the more reason to get to the inn and get some rest.”

“And don’t forget that drink!” Darius said.

Gray hesitated. “You two go on ahead, I’ll be there soon.”

“Come on, Ayva, I’ve had enough cursed fresh air for the rest of my life.” Darius turned his horse towards the stone gates ahead, following the tail end of the villagers.

Ayva paused a moment longer, until Gray thought she wouldn’t go. At last, she turned, “Join us soon,” she insisted as she guided her mare after Darius.

Gray dismounted and ducked into the shadowed lane. No harm in being cautious. The alley was quiet after the bustle of the streets. He searched but saw nothing, when he suddenly saw a scrap of light blue cloth pinned to the wall. Ayva’s cloak, he knew, heart pounding, feeling it between his fingers.

“A symbol that you trust too easily,” a voice echoed in his head.

Gray knew that voice. “Where are you?” he called. Dark maniacal laughter replied, echoing off the walls. “Show yourself, Kail,” he shouted as the laughter grew.

Again the voice sounded inside his skull, “You endanger their lives. Why?”

“They stay of their own free will!”

“Free will or not, can you live with their blood upon your hands?”

“You’re wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I can protect them!”

“But can you protect them from yourself?”

“I would never! I would die before I caused them harm!”

“A fitting answer,” Kail laughed. “For only when you are gone will they be safe.”

“Enough!” he bellowed and unsheathed his blade with a sharp ring. A sudden pain lanced through his arm. He fell to his knees, holding his trembling hand. Gray watched in horror as dark tremors writhed beneath his flesh, crawling like black snakes.

“You see? It’s too late… The darkness has found you. Now it will not let you go.”

Gray threw the blade and it clattered against the wall. Still the dark tremors swelled, and his arm bulged as the black veins grew. Mad laughter filled the alley, ringing in his ears. Desperately, he pulled for the nexus, praying it would dull the pain. The nexus appeared, shrouded in black as if dipped in a pool of ink. He plowed through the darkness as if trudging through a mire of sludge. The black tremors wormed their way into his chest, but he pressed onward. Suddenly, he lost sight of the nexus altogether. Still he dug, searching amid the darkness. At last, he touched a tendril of light. He gripped it tightly, and his power filled him. In a burst of light, the nexus shattered the black mantle. He opened his eyes. The tendrils in his arm retreated, moving back into his skin and then disappeared altogether.

Cradling his limp arm, Gray caught his breath. Slowly, he unfurled his clenched fist. Gouges marred his flesh. Marks where his nails had bit deep into his skin. There, resting in his open palm, was the blue scrap of Ayva’s cloak, stained in blood…

Kail’s voice echoed off the marble walls. “You are alone.”

The Stonemason

T
HE
D
IPPING
T
SUGI,
G
RAY READ THE
swinging sign above his head.

His grip tightened on Morrowil’s hilt. The blue cloth was now tied to his sword’s handle, reminding him of the legend’s words, and of what he had to lose. Gray sheathed the blade with a shiver, taking his mind off thoughts of Kail as he took in his surroundings.

The Noble’s District, he recalled, remembering the street sign he had read as he passed through a large entryway. As he had climbed, rising through the tiered city, the roads had grown steadily less crowded. Now only a thin stream of people strolled along the pristine white roads. Most were robed in flowing gowns of layered silk with bright and jarring colors, others in oiled-leathers, while thick pelts draped their shoulders—wealthy merchants and rich traders, he assumed. There were no more hawkers or peddlers. Moreover, he studied the buildings. There were few shops here. Most appeared to be sprawling villas with verdant trees, arched terraces, and carved statutes. Inns dappled the wide street as well, their roofs reaching several stories high and gilded in silver or gold. They bore fanciful names like The Siren’s Song, and The Silver Harp. Gray couldn’t remember seeing anything this extravagant in all his life.