Fireborn Champion (37 page)

Iron turned to the statue and lifted his gaze. He couldn’t quite see the face from this angle, but he didn’t want to anyway. “Those three days in Rosvoi when I disappeared…I, ah, I did find a shrine. There was a space for each of the Six, and then, there was a seventh. This statue was in the seventh shrine. I had another vision in Spineshell—”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Ayska asked in a tone that could slice granite.

“They’ve only brought pain, so I kept them to myself.” He turned to her and flinched at her cold stare. “This seventh god was cast out of the heavens before the First Sun rose. They split him in two and made the titans from him. Whatever made the Serpent something to fear survived and took root in the titans. Their war ended the First Sun, but it also ended them. So the gods took what was left and made the alp.”

“Gods, and it happened again,” Sander said, approaching the statue like it might lurch at him and chomp his legs off. “You cannot kill a god; you can only forget one. Someone will always remember.”

“And they did.” Iron crossed his arms and looked to the figure, taking a few steps back until he saw the face. “The circle is broken.”

“It makes so much sense.”

“And now you know why they’ve asked for forgiveness—my forgiveness—in my visions. This is their shame, the first sin ever committed. They murdered their brother, and for it we all suffer a cycle of creation and destruction.”
 

“The circle is still broken,” Batbayar announced. “We need a Mother’s priest to seal it. This alignment carved on dark pillar comes soon. I worry unless Sigrid hides another priest in these stones, we will not find the one we need.”

“Three weeks,” Sigrid said. “The exact alignment occurs then. You are correct that time is short. The count draws to a close.”

“Then we must leave,” he said.

“We can’t. The sandstorm makes crossing the desert impossible. It would bury us in it if we left.”

“Then we have failed.”

“No.” Sander reached out and caressed the Serpent’s pedestal, slightly shaking his head. “Have faith, Batbayar. We wait out the storm. The gods have delivered us to all but one champion of the Six. I know we will have all that we need by the alignment. They’ll give us the tools. Whether or not we seal the circle is up to us.”

Ayska’s feet crunched as she marched to Iron. She grabbed his wrist and forced his eyes to hers. “You should have told me this.”

“And what would you have done? You were right, Ayska, we’re cursed. The gods have made us monsters.” He swung his arm in an arc toward his statue. “For me, literally. Now you see why I tried to take my life in Athe. Maybe with me dead, the cycle could end.”

“It never ends.” She trembled with the anger barely contained in her voice. “It will never end until we kill him and all his priests. And then—”

“The Six?” Nephele asked. The woman arched a brow. “Then will you take your bitter war to the other gods and cast them from Urum?”

Ayska inhaled. She nodded and twirled to Nephele. “Yes, and then I will take my
bitter war
to the Six. They are the cause of this. Only when they’re wiped from the world will the devastation end. The Suns of the Six are over. It’s time we keep our own Sun shining, and the only way to do that is without the stain of those fools on it.”

Batbayar snorted, swiping the air. “Silly girl, you cannot wipe the gods from the world.”

“I will find a way!”

Iron reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. “No, Iron. I will find a way to destroy the Six. They don’t deserve this world anymore. It’s our turn.”

Nephele thrust a chin toward Iron. “Their brother stands beside you, honey. As long as Iron lives, so will they. Don’t you realize that? He is bound to them and they to him.”

A cold hand gripped Iron’s heart as Nephele’s words disarmed Ayska’s tongue. The Lover’s priestess smirked and strolled toward Ayska. “Oh yes, haven’t thought of that, have we? If what we’ve learned is true—and I very much doubt it’s false, considering the giant statue of Iron standing behind the real one—then your lovely here is at least partly one of those gods you despise. You can rage against Sol and the Serpent Sun all you want. You can behead the High King, bury every alp, wipe all memory of the Six from every corner of the world, but in the end, this young man who quite clearly loves you will have to die, or everything you do will be for naught.”

“There—there is another way,” she muttered.

“No.” Nephele stopped before Ayska and stared at the woman down the bridge of her nose. “You know there is no other way. Gods cannot die, they can only be forgotten. He is their living memory. Like a farmer, he will spread the seed of the Six throughout the devastation you cause, and one day, those seeds will blossom and drink the Sun you raise. Once they do, the wheel of this war will spin again.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Iron said. “I promised myself I would do this without the Six. I’ll stop the Serpent Sun and then—”

A flash of silver whipped from Ayska’s side. Her curved blade pressed against his throat. She glowered at him with eyes stained by rage and tears. “Nephele is right. If I want to end this, everything connected to the Six has to die. That means you have to die too.”

Iron swallowed, the blade rubbing against his sweaty skin. He clenched his jaw and pressed his throat against the blade. “Fine. Kill me. It’s what I wanted in Athe. Just finish the job if that’s what you want. It would be easier that way, wouldn’t it? No one would be close to you. No one could hurt you anymore.”

“I’ll do it,” she hissed. “I hate them, Iron. I want them gone.”

“Then do it.”

“I swear I will!”

“
Do it!
” His voice thundered through the cavern before tumbling into oblivion.
 

Her arm tensed. A teardrop slid down her cheek and splattered on her collar.
 

Behind her, a silhouette peeled from the darkness. Kalila wandered into the firelight. She rubbed her lumpy knuckles, her thick brows slinking together in a frown. In a few steps, she reached Iron and her sister. Ayska’s eyes flicked to Kalila and back to him. “Not now.”

Kalila reached up and gently grasped her sister’s wrist. Ayska fought her grip, flashing the wall of her teeth. “I said not
now
.”

Kalila’s knuckles whitened as her hold tightened. Slow and smooth, she lowered Ayska’s curved sword from Iron’s neck without ever letting go. Iron exhaled through his lips and brought a hand to his chest.
 

Ayska writhed in her sister’s grip. “Let me do this! Stop it, Kalila!
Stop!
”

“No,” Kalila said. With her other hand, she tapped her chest. “F…Fo…For…Me, Ayska.”

The curved sword clattered to the rocks. In all their time together, Kalila never spoke a word aside from her sister’s name, and then it only came when Ayska’s life hung in the balance.
 

Kalila cupped Ayska’s trembling hands and kissed them. Her sister shuddered. And then, she sobbed. Tears held back from her days in chains, tears held back during her hard life at sea, tears held back after her friends’ murders, and tears held back when she closed her heart to Iron all came spilling from deep within her. All the pain and anguish locked in the vault of her heart blasted from the steel box and flooded from her eyes.
 

Ayska sprinted from the circle of bones, her furious steps softening as she put distance between her and the others. Kalila blinked at Iron. The spark that rose within her eyes faded with her sister’s footfalls. She smiled and wandered from the group, melting into the shadow of an enormous skull.
 

Iron fell back against the statue’s pedestal. He pressed his palms against its cool, rough edge and stared at his feet.

“She’s broken,” Nephele said. The woman placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to really love you, Iron. I’m sorry.”

He rubbed his throat where the blade once pressed. “I thought she was going to do it.”

“I didn’t think she’d go that far, but she did. Thank the Six for her sister.”

“I don’t think the Six had anything to do with it.”

“They have everything to do with it. Everything.” Nephele retreated to Sander and slipped her hand in his. Iron watched his master rub the woman’s knuckles. Something about the gesture knifed his heart, and he turned his gaze from them.

“Bah, she will be fine,” Batbayar said. “First she must deal with grief. Wounds leave scars, but they heal.” The man sighed as he hooked his thumbs around the explosives resting on his broad chest. “We have a few weeks before this alignment. You have much work to do before then.”

Iron blinked, prying himself from the statue. “Work?”

“Yes,
arphanarat
, work. You remember this?”

“I don’t know what work you could mean. There’s nothing to do here.”

“There is plenty to do and learn.” Batbayar marched over to Sigrid and gave a melodramatic bow. “Priestess of Counter, you must teach him the Curious Count.”

She huffed at the suggestion, shuffling back and smoothing her robe. “The Count? This is our secret art. It’s very inappropriate to teach the stance to someone not ordained to the Counter.”

“Ah,” Batbayar glanced at Iron and winked. “So the truth must be you forget how, eh? Long nights in the dark dancing around titan’s graves might do this. I understand.”

“Excuse me?” Sigrid’s cheeks flushed. “I remember the steps just as well as the day I mastered them. You think my mind has dulled in this solitude? Quite the contrary. I have sharpened both my mind and memory. Not a moment goes by that I do not recall what I see or hear.”

“I am not convinced.”

Her feet slid into an odd position as she cocked her elbow at a sharp angle, two fingers pointed at the ceiling. “Shall we test the careless force of the Shining Step against the infallible logic of the Curious Count? I will have you on your back in less than three moves.”

“Ho, ho!” Batbayar slapped his belly before taking another deep bow. “I bend to your logic, priestess, but prove to us you know the steps by teaching this boy and not showing a fat Kerran how easy he falls onto his back.”

Sigrid muscled past Batbayar and glared at Iron. “I am a Counter’s convert. We do not forget what we learn. Ever.”

Iron raised his palms in surrender. “I, ah, I didn’t think you did?”

“I will certainly not take this slight from some happy-go-lucky Child’s priest. I was—am—a master of the stance, and I’ll prove it to that buffoon if it’s the last thing I do. Rest and eat.” She glanced in the direction Ayska ran. “You have quite a bit to think about, and it’s better to begin training in a neutral state of mind. The Coin Counter is not an emotional god. He is steady. He is even-handed. You must be in a similar disposition when we begin.”

“What’s the point? Without the Mother’s priest, whatever should happen when the alignment comes won’t happen. It’s useless.”

“It’s not useless,” Sander interjected. “Learn the steps. If anything, it will keep you from going insane while we’re trapped in this oversized coffin.”

“But—”

“No. No argument, Iron. Learn this and…” He tightened his jaw and nodded. “…I will hold your Oath fulfilled.”

One. Iron danced right.

Two. Iron vaulted left.

Three. Iron punched, his fist whistling through empty air.

“Not good enough,” Sigrid said, her breath washing over his ear. Iron flew to the side, but Sigrid slipped her foot beneath his, and he slammed onto his back. The rocks coating the cavern floor bit into his spine. He winced, struggling with the blindfold masking his vision.
 

Sigrid straddled him, two fingers pointed between his eyes. “You have yet to understand the rhythm of the Count. You are impatient, eager, excitable. These things will fail you when the time comes to use this stance.”

Iron planted his elbows in the rocks and slid from beneath her. “I don’t understand. I’m counting perfectly.” He launched to his feet and turned his back. “
Fuck!
This is frustrating.”

He stomped to the water’s edge and stared at its glassy surface. In the distance, the flickering light of their camp illuminated the cavern’s far wall and dark mouth leading to the raging sands beyond. Days came and went buried beneath the howling storm. Only Sigrid really knew when day gave way to night. Iron tried keeping to a schedule, but without the sun that was some task.
 

“The storm will calm soon enough,” she said, standing beside him. Stones gathered around her toes like beetles. She kicked one up and snatched it at its zenith, then skipped it across the lake. “Most sandstorms are not like this, but once every few years when just the right conditions prevail, a beast like this one comes. It will flatten the desert once it leaves, and the Simmering Sands will look more like a table than an ocean. It’s a fascinating phenomenon.”

It certainly sounded interesting to Iron. “What causes it?”

She grinned, excited someone might share her scholarly enthusiasm for invisible forces of nature. “Oh, Iron it is fascinating. In the midst of summer, the sun heats the sands to such a degree, the very air makes the sky unstable. Wild winds that flow high sink to the desert and quite literally heave the desert into the sky.”

“Not unlike the thundersnows. The peaks rise so high they block the high winds. The wind collects in a storm behind the mountain until the pressure becomes so great it slams the storm over the Everfrosts.”

“I would love to see a thundersnow. Perhaps once we leave this place, you can show me? I’ve always wanted to perform some experimentation, determine the longevity of such mystifying tempests. I’ve often wondered if they ever really go away, or if they circulate behind the mountains, only ever so often cresting them and giving us a glimpse of their fury.”

“Poetic.” Iron smirked and rubbed his chin. “You know, you might be right. Thunder’s common behind the mountains, even if you can’t see the storm.”

“Interesting. I shall have to draw up an official hypothesis and plan the experiment.” Her brow furrowed in a pained wrinkle. “Before the Godfall, we would propose our investigation to the High Priests. I suppose I’m just going through motions now, aren’t I? If there are no High Priests left, then it is logical to conclude I need no permission.”