Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (44 page)

“Like I said, I was trained here, but I’ve never lived long in the Citadel.”

“Then where are the Vaults at least?” Gray questioned.

“They are below us,” Victasys said, “but I do not know the way.”

Gray’s grip tightened on Morrowil. “Then what do we do?”

“We’ve only one option. We search,” Victasys replied.

“Aimlessly wandering? This place is far too large,” Gray said.

“Agreed—we’ve no time for that,” Zane growled.

Gray opened his mouth when a sudden image appeared. He tried to speak but images flashed in his mind, almost painfully.
Hallways… Rooms… Turns…
Everything sparked as he was seared with memories. His eyes snapped wide with a sharp breath. He realized the other two were looking at him. Ignoring their looks, he started forward. “The Vaults are this way. Follow me,” he ordered. And he didn’t have to look behind, or use his ki to feel their looks of incredulity and uncertainty.

Victasys silently joined him, matching his strides.

Zane fell in at his side as well. “And I thought we were the mad ones.”

Gray wanted to laugh but he merely nodded. “Me too. And if my previous self is correct, the path ahead is a treacherous one. In the end, perhaps we’re all mad. I just hope we’re not too late…”

Don’t die, Ezrah
, he prayed.
We’re coming for you.

A Rising War

T
HE TIDE OF WAR WAS RISING.
Karil felt it in her bones.

Outside the tent’s window, the camps churned with commotion, an array of sounds and sights—the clang of swords on swords, the twang of bows, and ring of blacksmiths’ hammers.

They were in the green fields of Belegrun, just outside the Forest of Aenor. It was several days’ ride from Eldas, the location chosen purposively, like a mother keeping watch on its child—
if
the child was a Great Kingdom, taken and being held hostage by an evil known as Dryan.

She took a deep breath, looking back.

Four elves stood at attention. Each of them was a high-ranking member of the Lando, elf warriors—the small, brilliant pieces of her father’s crown shining upon their elfin chainmail. Their pointed ears stuck out through their long, silken hair. She felt a special affection for the Lando, and an undeniable debt, for they had saved her life, whisking her out of Eldas when her father was assassinated. They had believed in her when few had.

Looking at them, she still felt strange being a half-elf in charge of an Elvin army, but she did not allow herself to question it for long. Questioning led to uncertainty and uncertainty led to failure. And she could not fail. Not when the lives of her people were at stake.

“What would you have us do?” asked Tunmai, the highest-ranking of the Lando.

“Send out more messengers,” Karil commanded at last. “All the Great Kingdoms must know. Eldas will not be taken without a fight.”

“The same message?” the elf asked.

“No,” she answered. “This time tell them Eldas is under siege. Mention nothing of Dryan or his rebels.”

“And if they still
do not respond as you hope?” Rydel asked from behind her.

“Then we press on,” she pronounced with the true strength of a queen—her father would have been proud. “We will siege Eldas with or without their aid and free our people, taking back what is rightfully ours.”

“At your command, my queen,” Tunmai said.

The other elves clasped fists to their hearts, moving out of the enormous command tent.

The tent was tall, with a peaked canvas roof. A dozen tables were scattered about, holding maps, markers, scrolls, and other signs of an impending war, and her bed sat at the far side, still made. Sisala had made it two days ago. Karil had not slept since. She was beginning to feel fatigued to her bones, but there was too much to be done and seen to. She would sleep soon, she promised her tired limbs as she rubbed her brow, but not yet.

Beside her throne sat a cup of tea that had gone cold and a stack of letters, most of which she’d already read. It was a dismal litany of bad news: raids on the Frizzian Coast by strange red-sailed mercenaries, upheaval in Menelas and Ester—rumors that the two mining cities were at one another’s throats over the discovery of a strange new metal, not to mention that bandits were moving in droves around Sevia, attacking merchant caravans upon the Aster Plains, and the Algasi were moving north, towards Vaster.

That last bit was troublesome enough on its own—for few knew the history of the Algasi and the city of Vaster, Great Kingdom of Sun. Few but the elves. It was almost enough to set her stomach churning as if she’d eaten a bad
dumai
root. But she hadn’t. In fact, she’d barely eaten anything at all. If Sisala found out—and somehow she always seemed to—the short, stern-faced elf would chide her with a firm tongue. At that thought, she expected the straight-backed servant to barge into the tent and force one of her noxious remedies down Karil’s throat, as if thinking of her would be enough to summon her, like the children’s stories of her youth.

At her side, Rydel made a sound, displeased.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t like the way you dealt with those emissaries from Covai earlier.”

Covai was one of the Great Kingdoms. They had been pinning much on their allegiance with all the Great Kingdoms to win the war. But none of the responses had been what she’d hoped for so far.

She touched the armrest, feeling the smoothness of the rare purple heartwood beneath her palms. Her whole throne was made of it. Surprisingly the Lando had been able to bring it here, all the way from the Relnas Forest, the only place where heartwood resided. Well,
aside
from the forbidden forest of Drymaus—home to the magical Dryads, beings made of wood, leaf, and moss, as well as the dragons—but not since the Lieon had any dared to cross those treacherous borders.

The heartwood reminded Karil of her childhood, of her father, of Eldas and the spire. Of her home. She replied softly, “Sometimes
liking
is a luxury a queen cannot afford. Long ago, I learned to act out of necessity.”

“I am aware of necessity,” Rydel replied. “They wanted to give their aid. We could use them.”

“Did they?” she asked. “More accurately, it seems they wanted to know if I was worth supporting. They never promised to send recruits to aid our war, nor did they even question Dryan’s rule as legitimate or false.”

Rydel’s jaw tightened, but he remained quiet.

She hated it as much as he did. Yet Karil was queen now, she could not afford to deny such truths. With her father, King Gias, dead, and then her mother’s proclamation of the final prophecy that took her life—the very prophecy that foretold the Ronin’s return—Karil was in charge. Of course, she wished more than anything that her father was still alive to rule with his wisdom and his strong hand, or her mother to guide her with her loving, quiet serenity, but it was not so.

Rydel moved, his grand hando cloak, denoting his high rank, flapped as he strode to the large window in the otherwise empty tent. He looked out as the camp moved with purpose.

“You are restless, my friend,” she said. Summoning roots from the nearby tree, Karil brought the cup made of Seria porcelain to her lips, sipping on minty water. It had long gone cold, but it helped to soothe her stomach. Some elves would be displeased using nature for such a mundane task, but for Karil, embracing her spark, her
ka
, and using the element of leaf was a treasured act. Moreover, touching the leaf made her feel connected to the glorious forests she had left. And she needed that bond now.

“Is it so obvious?” he said quietly without turning.

“It is,” she answered with a sad smile. “I’ve rarely seen you like this. It seems lately I am even more elf than you.”

He gave a hard breath, turning back. His clothes were black, but he’d taken to wearing upon his shoulders the dark green spaulders of the Lando in homage. His wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist that held two swords—each of which were like second appendages to the blademaster elf. Dark hair fell from his chiseled face and bright blue eyes held a quiet intensity. His Elvin ears were longer than most, and his eyes more angled. Even standing still, he seemed to be moving subtly, always ready to strike. Even the formidable Tunmai and all other Lando feared Rydel like a black susa snake. He was in the highest rank of all Elvin warriors, the last of a dying race that had guarded royalty. Karil knew of no one more powerful and more passionate. He was her mentor, her guardian, and a beloved friend. But his mood of late troubled her even more than the reports.

“Speak your mind, dear friend,” she told him.

Looking out the window at the teeming makeshift city, he answered softly, “Whatever I say, you already know.”

“Speak it anyway.”

He looked back, his eyes orbs of fury. So strange to see so much emotion in an elf. “This is not a war that can be won, Karil. Not as we stand now. We have barely one legion of elves. Dryan has ten legions, and he is gathering more. Elves are joining him by the hour, flocking from the eastern woods of Relnas, and even the fringes of the Drymaus Forest. They see his rule as inevitable.”

“Numbers are not everything,” Karil answered.

“It is not just numbers, my queen,” Rydel replied sternly. “And this truth you must see yourself. Aside from a rare few, most of our so-called warriors are no more than half-trained younglings—this is the first time many have wielded a blade, and we expect them to be our frontlines against Dryan’s armies? Against the
Terma
?”

The Terma’s allegiance with Dryan troubled her greatly. Terma were elite Elvin warriors—only one rank below Rydel, but there were hundreds of them under Dryan’s black fist. Somehow the dark elf had swayed her father’s once-loyal warriors, and now he commanded them like personal servants.

I will find out how,
she vowed.
And soon…

“You say they are untrained? Then train them,” she replied, undaunted. “My father always said, ‘Do not look to the fault in your weapon, but use its strength. If you pinpoint its only flaws, then that is all you will see.’”

“I remember that well,” Rydel said. She knew Rydel had been like a son to the great elf.

Thoughts of her father made her throat clench, but she swallowed. Her voice gained strength. “You are our greatest weapon, my dear friend. Teach them to fight.” She left unsaid that she was doing the same with him, by focusing on his strength. Rydel was
her
weapon.

He nodded. “I will do my best.”

Rydel’s tensed shoulders eased, but his strikingly handsome face, even for an elf, did not seem to relax too much. Karil rose, touching his arm.
“Is that all that worries you?”

“You know the rest as well. The Great Kingdoms. They will not fight for us.”

Outside, Karil watched a stream of elves and men. One man pushed a heavy cartful of armor and weapons, sweating under the load, and two more joined him, helping press the cart forward. She smiled to herself, finding it a fitting metaphor. “That is not wholly true, my friend. Out of the nine Kingdoms, two of which were lost to the great war, we have heard back from only a small handful. Covai is a blow, and one I wish we did not have to suffer. But they, aside from Menalas, are the farthest from us. They believe this war will not affect them.”

“Then they are fools,” Rydel said calmly.

She shook her head. “I wish it were so simple. I believe Dryan has used his powers of deception. The world does not know a Great Kingdom has fallen, that Eldas is overrun. Covai simply see it as an exchange of power. In this, we underestimated Dryan and his connections.”

“What are you saying?” Rydel asked.

She had not voiced this, not to Rydel, not to her high-elf councilors, nor her trusted healer, Jirah Dawnbringer, not to anyone. But Rydel was not just anyone. Karil gave another heavy sigh. “I believe Dryan is not working alone. I fear a greater power and evil is at work, one moving Dryan like a puppet upon a grand board of
yudai
.”

“Who?” he asked.

“I know not yet, but I will find out. But more importantly, we are not without our own plans. We are not as alone as you think we are, my friend.” He raised a dark eyebrow, but she merely smiled. “You shall see soon enough. Now come, let us quell your earlier fears.” Karil strode forward, convincing herself she was not tired.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she reached the tent’s flap.

“You said it would be better to let me see with my own eyes the chink in the armor of our forces,” she said, hiding a smile. “So? Show me.” Instead of giving the elf a chance to deny or argue, she pulled back the tent’s flap and entered the sunlit day, into a host of sights and smells.

Letting the sounds of training swarm around her, Karil moved forward. Rydel was suddenly at her side, appearing like a phantom. He said nothing, and together they moved through the camps.