Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (55 page)

She felt something grab her ankle, frail yet strong.

But it was a fleck beneath the monstrous pain.

Darkness encroached upon her vision, and she reached out with the last tendril of her power, something she hadn’t known had been there. Eyeing the ceiling, she pulled with all her might.

Stone thundered and fell, crashing down upon them.

Sithel roared in anger. Something gripped Meira’s arm and she was being pulled away, shards of stone exploding around her and dust clouding her vision. When, at last, the thundering stopped and the clouds of dust settled, Meira saw her act had created a barricade of stone, one she hoped Sithel had been caught in, but knew better.
Such evil does not die so easily.
She looked upon her savior.

He was a young man with gray-green eyes and brown hair, which was tousled as if he had been running nonstop. In his other hand was a brilliant and mesmerizing sword that glowed white. He wore the tattered cloak of the Devari with crossed swords, but somehow he did not seem like a Devari.

Just behind him were two men—one clearly a Devari in look and stature, with a hideously scarred face, and the other a shorter, stouter man with fiery copper-colored eyes, nearly the same age as her unexpected guardian.

“What is this?” Dagon moaned, rubbing his head and gaining his feet.

“This young man… he saved me,” she said, disbelieving.

Dagon opened his mouth then cut short.

As the ringing in Meira’s ears ended, she heard the thunder of armor and of footfalls.

The young man pulled her to her feet. “It is time to run,” he declared. She watched in awe as he threaded
something
with his other hand. Her mouth parted as the air distorted, as if from heat, but it was not the element of fire.

And she knew.

Wind…

It sifted beneath the Arbiter, and the man rose, as if held by invisible hands. The air suddenly solidified, and Ezrah lay upon a golden glowing stretcher.

Several other Reavers had gained their footing and gasped, wide-eyed.

“Abomination…” Hutosh breathed.

“So much for not being able to use your power,” the fiery Devari said.

“That was the last of what I have,” her guardian declared, slumping as if exhausted. “Can you take him?” His two friends nodded, both Devari grabbed the stretcher and ran. “Can you run?” the mysterious young man questioned, grabbing her arm.

What are you?
She thought, but
her mouth worked soundlessly. Meira eyed the hand upon her arm as if it were a claw.
Wind…
The footsteps grew louder. Shaking herself out of a daze, Meira suppressed her fear and nodded then, together, they ran. Moving through the halls, they slowed as more fires and shouts of men sounded ahead.

“They’re everywhere,” Hutosh said, hand upon his bleeding forehead. “Where in the seven hells do we go?”

“This way,” she ordered, turning down another series of dark halls when they hit a sudden wall of stone. A dead end. “This… this is not supposed to be here,” she voiced, panicked. Confusion and despair rose as her hands groped the solid wall.

“It’s a trap,” said Chloe, voice shaking with rising dread.

“Calm down,” Finn instructed sharply, “Your fear does us no good here. Simply look for a door or a latch—there must be something.” Despite his steady voice, his hands groped the walls frantically. Others, Chloe included, joined him.

A hand grabbed Meira, pulling her aside, and she found herself looking into the scarred Devari’s face. His blue eyes shone in the dim light as he spoke, “I’m assuming you had a plan to get the Arbiter out of here. What exactly was it?”

“I have a cart waiting for us,” she explained, “But we need to get to the Eastern Courtyards.”

“And which way are they?”

“Straight above us.”

Just then, fires appeared from behind, bobbing in the darkness—hundreds of them. It must have been an army.

“Do we stand and fight?” Reaver Dimitri asked.

“There’s too many,” she declared. “We must run.”

“Yet there is no way out,” Reaver Tugard said softly. “We’re trapped.”

“There is always a way out,” Meira replied fervently and strode forth, joining Finn in his search. Her legs wobbled beneath her as she put a hand to the nearby wall, feeling the stone beyond. The footsteps and bobbing lights were getting closer by the second. She could almost hear their breathing and feel their heat upon her neck. Steel rang, and the Reavers pulled at their powers, but it was a dismal sight—the orb had weakened them greatly.

Meira moved closer towards the charging army, hand running along the wall.

“Meira!” Finn called fearfully.

Abruptly, she felt an emptiness. A hollow.
Here.
She summoned the spark, and felt a bit of power had strangely returned to her, but it was still like working a shriveled, atrophied muscle. Finn was suddenly at her side, grabbing her arm and feeding her his power. She smiled and stone erupted, falling and revealing a hallway beyond.
At the same time, the air whistled, and something raced towards Meira. She threw up a stone fragment, just in time. Steel and wood splintered against it, and an arrow fell to her feet. More arrows streaked like hail as shouts rose. Nearby, Reavers erected pitiful shields of stone or steel, but it was not enough.

“Quickly! Into the hall!” Meira yelled to her fellowship as they leapt over the rubble and through the opening. The fires of the dark army were nearly upon them. Meira turned, but paused.

She saw Chloe lying upon the ground, eyes glazed, an arrow in her chest.

Weakness is death,
Sithel’s words played in her mind. Chloe’s one-striped robes seemed to mock Meira as they became soaked with spreading blood.

Distantly, she thought she heard Sithel’s maniacal laughter.

Hatred filling her, Meira whispered a silent prayer and ran.

Sacrifices

J
UST LIKE THAT, THE BLACK HALLS
ended.

Gray squinted into the blazing sun.

His eyes adjusted to the bright light, and he saw a grass field surrounded by tall black gates.
One of the dozen courtyards that surrounds the keep,
Kirin informed him.
Trees dappled the grounds, with meandering stone paths flanked by unlit lampposts, benches, and even a nearby small pond. It all seemed so strange and unreal after the hours of endless dark halls, like walking out of a nightmare and into a dream. Still, relief flooded through his tired body.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get out of there,” Zane breathed at his side.

“Don’t count your blessings yet,” Victasys replied. “We’re not quite out.”

“Wait, where’s Chloe?” a bearded Reaver asked suddenly.

The powerful woman responded. “Dead.” She sounded shaken.
Meira
, they had called her. “Come. The cart and Eastern Gate are this way.”

Gray took the wide, white marble stairs two at a time, then froze.

In the very center of the courtyard, a man knelt calmly, sitting upon his heels.

Had he been there before?

Gray felt Victasys tense at his side, as did the other Reavers.

As they descended the last stairs, the man’s eyes snapped open.

Immediately, Gray reached for Morrowil as the man took them in, fist tightening around the blade’s smooth handle. Not a hint of surprise registered on the sitting man’s face made entirely of hard angles, as if he had been a piece of steel hammered by a blacksmith, but then left jagged and forgotten. Gray swallowed. Even his cold blue eyes made Victasys’ seem warm.

“I guess I spoke too soon,” Zane said.

Slowly, the man rose and spoke, the deep voice echoing over the courtyard. “I am here for you, Victasys. There is no more running. It is time to face your punishment.”

Before the figure, a sword was stuck into the ground, pinpoints of light blazing off its shining steel. But he didn’t reach for it. His cloak danced in front of him from a gust of wind, showing two crossed swords, but slightly different. The swords were larger and a brighter white. It seemed all too familiar. And he realized why. It was just like Kail’s. The man bore the leader of the Devari’s cloak.

Jian,
Gray knew.

“And what crimes does the tainted Citadel accuse me of, brother?” Victasys replied.

“Do not call me that,” Jian snapped. “You’re not my brother, for you have broken the Code of the Devari. You’re now a Forgotten.” Gray saw Victasys stiffen, as if slapped.
Forgotten?
Gray questioned. Apparently it was a harsh accusation as the scarred man’s body began to shake with anger. He did not think anything could perturb Victasys so much. Jian continued, “Though I would hear it from your own mouth before I end your sacrilege. Tell me, are you not to blame for the death of a Reaver in the Market Square?”

Zane yelled abruptly, “You’re wrong! It was not his fault! Victasys killed that Reaver in self-defense and to protect me!” Calmly, Victasys gripped Zane’s arm, shaking his head. And the fiery man quieted, if reluctantly.

Victasys remained silent, and Gray felt the tension build.

“Speak,” Gray whispered. “Tell him it wasn’t your fault, but say something!”

“I cannot,” said the scarred Devari. “The man has already concluded my guilt. In the end, some men will simply not listen to reason.” He sounded resigned, and yet there was a note of fear. His blues eyes wavered.

“Your silence has attested to the truth. You have betrayed us,”
Jian said in a deathly cold tone. “Your hands are stained with blood, but I will see them cleansed.”

The tall, black haired Reaver, Dagon, spoke in a low, confident tone, “Together we can take him.”

Gray nodded, gripping Morrowil tighter.

“We attack as one,” Reaver Meira declared.

“No,” Victasys said softly, but it cut the air like a knife. “We cannot beat him. Not even together, not as we stand.” Handing Ezrah’s stretcher to a nearby Reaver, he looked to Gray. “Take him and go. All of you.”

Meira’s eyes tightened, but she nodded, striding forward. “Come, guardian,” she called.

Gray unsheathed Morrowil with a ring. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“This is my fight, Gray,” Victasys said, then nodded to Ezrah. “And you know yours. It is time we both follow our fates.”

“Damn the fates!” he shouted, rage welling inside him. Yet worst of all, he knew Victasys was right. He felt his rage turn to sorrow, looking at the man as if seeing him for the last time. “I cannot leave you…
We
will not leave you… You are one of us now.”

“Gray’s right. We fight together,” Zane said, his blade ringing.

“You don’t understand,” Victasys said. “You both are no match for Jian.”

“I’m not afraid of death,” Zane replied.

“You may not be, but Hannah? What will she do without her brother? And you, Gray? Do you not think Ayva and Darius will attempt to avenge you if you fall here?”

Zane cursed softly, his fiery gaze turning away.

But Gray didn’t turn away. “There must be another way,” he voiced.

Victasys grasped his shoulders firmly, and despite the darkness, Gray felt strangely lifted by the resolve in the man’s eyes,
smooth, scarred skin glistening in the sun’s light. “Listen now. You two have given me hope when I had none. That is enough for me. The darkness upon my heart has been banished. But you must go now, for your grandfather is the Citadel’s only hope. We still don’t know what secrets the Arbiter holds. If they take him, all is lost.”

Gray’s body roiled in frustration and sorrow. He wanted to deny Victasys, to shout and rail against him, but he knew there was nothing he could say that would change the truth.

“Leave!” Victasys yelled, stepping back. “Now!”

“You better win,” Zane growled.

The Devari’s scarred skin twisted as he gave a wicked smile at last before facing Jian. Both men exchanged glares that could have melted stone. “I will not go down easily.”

Zane tugged upon his arm. “
Gray…
C’mon…”

Reluctantly, Gray stepped away. Following the other Reavers, he skirted the center of the yard quickly. Heart lodged in his throat, he turned the corner, Zane at his side.

Beneath Gray’s feet, the courtyard rattled as steel rung.

But Victasys was gone.

With pain in his heart, Gray continued forward, not slowing.

* * *

Victasys’ grin grew.

At last, he would be able to determine if the myths around Jian were true—if the man was truly more powerful than any Devari in a thousand years, even stronger than their once-leader Ren. Perhaps in another age, when the Citadel was not broken, Jian would have made a great leader. Standing there, the sun’s light bathing his imposing figure, hard sinewy muscles tense with fury and insurmountable strength, he was clearly a man of legends.
I would have followed you unto the end, had you only listened to reason…
But he did not voice the sentiment. He was not a man of many words, but now, more than ever, words were useless. All had been said that needed to be said.