91. Rorax
The next day turned out to be normal, when Rorax wished it would have been anything but. Rorax went through the motions: early morning training, her session in the library, and now Contestar training. But her mind was spinning.
They had finally found the Pits. The Frost Dragons were currently flying to the House of Death in aid. Lyondrea was trying to unleash what was on Pit Island.
The knowledge that she was here, eating sweets and wasting time, and not in Lyondrea suddenly seemed to punch her in the gut. She could already be out formulating and executing a plan to destroy the Pit. Instead, she was here.
Rorax stood against one of the walls of the courtyard, watching as Lamonte and a tutor from House of Fire help Enna perfect her whips of fire, when movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Cannon had gone completely stiff, the tendons straining in his neck as he rocked back on his heels.
When his muscles relaxed, he jerked his head at Ayres, who was standing across the courtyard from them.
Stay here and focus on what Lamonte is saying. This will eventually pertain to you.
She nodded absently and watched as Ayres and Cannon disappeared through the doors that led to the guard’s side of the bailey.
Rorax waited for a moment, looking around to see if anyone else was watching. When she didn’t see anyone’s eyes on her, Rorax turned and followed them. She didn’t see them immediately, so she crossed the courtyard to the stables, cracking the door open just enough so she could listen to their conversation.
“You can’t go alone,” Ayres growled. “I don’t care if there are ten or ten thousand. Conrad will be arriving at the Castle tomorrow and I have to be here. I won’t risk you going alone, so wait for Piers and Kaiya to get back.”
There wasn’t an audible response, and Rorax rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn’t eavesdrop on a conversation through the Language of Hands.
She padded inside and leaned against a stall silently. Neither one of them noticed her. Ayres and Cannon were in a standoff, almost toe to toe as Cannon signed up at him with flying fingers . . . could be too late. It’s a small one, only a group of maybe five. I’ll be fine.
Rorax took a few steps forward, sensing a golden opportunity to get away, to get out of the castle, and away from her thoughts and to finally be useful. “I’ll go.”
Ayres jerked his head over to look at her, and Cannon followed his gaze.
The darker male frowned at her. What did you say?
“I said I’ll go.” Rorax moved her fingers, talking at the same time. “Jia should stay here until the Frost Dragons arrive. Her brother is in the unit, so she needs to stay.”
Ayres’s jaw flexed as he stood there, looking back and forth between them before settling his dark eyes on Rorax. “I’ll approve it only if there are less than twenty men there, Rorax. Twenty. If it’s like last time, where there are more men than expected, you are to come home. I want your word on this, both of you.”
Rorax opened her mouth to argue, but Ayres set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. She shot a glance at Cannon, who signed. I give you my word.
She gritted her teeth for a minute, but finally nodded. “I promise.”
Ayres’s jaw went tight for a moment, and his eyes narrowed on her face right before he accepted her oath. “Be safe.”
Rorax watched as Cannon carefully wrapped one of Sumavari”s books in a linen cloth. This book was thinner than the one she and Ayres recovered a few months before, but the way Cannon’s face had paled when he looked inside to read which monster the book was for, told Rorax it was just as deadly.
There had been exactly fifteen men, just as Cannon predicted, holed up in an abandoned house protecting the book. The soldiers had kidnapped and sacrificed the farmer who had lived there in hopes that they could use his blood to start the summoning process. Thankfully they’d been unsuccessful. Rorax and Cannon had buried the poor farmer in the ground outside of the house, before getting on their horses and starting the six-day journey back to the castle.
On their first night, after they set up their campsite and started a fire, Cannon took the time to rewrap the book more carefully. The sight of the familiar blood red book, the golden trim flashing in the firelight like it was winking at her, sent a shiver down her spine. The contents of that book could kill thousands.
Cannon placed the wrapped book in a small leather backpack, then tucked it into his sleeping pack. He looked more comfortable in these woods than Rorax had ever seen him. He was glowing almost, and relaxed. They were still in the mountain range on the border of Fire and Death, south of the City of Stars but north of Povelinn. He must have grown up somewhere nearby, or just spent a great deal of time in these mountains; he was completely at ease.
He plopped down on his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the small fire from Rorax and signed, I’ll take the first watch.
She nodded. They sat for a long moment before Cannon snapped his fingers, getting her attention. How long have you been a Heilstorm?
Rorax considered Cannon. Her instincts and habits were to deflect and evade all personal questions, but she caught sight of the nearly black ten-pointed star right below his left ear. A dark scar, raised slightly off his skin, was the only thing left of the mark carved crudely onto the dark flesh on the column of his neck.
Her fault, her mistake, her sin.
Rorax sucked in a steadying breath and steeled her spine. I’m one hundred and sixty-six years old. I was recruited officially when I was sixteen; it’s all I’ve ever known.
Cannon blinked in surprise. 166? You’re just a child.
Rorax rolled her eyes. She’d sent more souls to the afterlife than most people would in six lifetimes and had seen enough to make her feel old enough to be one of the Elder Elites.
Who recruited you?
Rorax cracked her neck hesitantly before answering him. The Wolf.
His face paled, and Rorax scrambled for another topic.
How long have you been working for Ayres? Rorax asked her mentor.
It’s been a long time . . . around 400 years? I’ve been in his army for nearly 600 . . . and part of the prince’s personal guard with him for only 60. We’re cousins, but he is practically a brother to me.
Rorax blinked, thinking of Piers”s golden eyes. I didn’t know you were cousins. Did he recruit you because of your magick? I’ve been told that you hold a lot.
Cannon nodded. My magick is the reason I’ve also been well trained. The House of Death can’t risk having anyone walking around who can’t control their powers. Some Gifted hold enough magick to pluck people’s lives away like they would pick a ripe strawberry. So, the training regimen in House Death is strict. It isn’t nearly as intense as a Heilstorm’s, but it’s rigorous.
Rorax watched the flames for a bit before steeling her spine again and turning back to Cannon. There was one question that had been burning in the back of her mind since she’d seen the star on Cannon’s neck. Who did that to you? Who gave you the star on your neck?
If they were still alive, she would kill them. Or deliver them to Cannon.
Cannon studied her for a long moment, the fire reflecting off his black eyes almost looked internal. He said nothing, just continued to stare at her, the question hanging heavy between them.
Just when Rorax thought he wasn’t going to answer, his hands started moving. Yansley.Your top Commander during the Siege. It was right after you broke through the wall. I was one of the only men stationed on the wall that night in Surmalinn. I killed half a dozen of his men with a single thought, so he branded me forever to remind me of my ‘folly’.
Rorax held his gaze, even though his stare felt like it was melting her insides in a boiling pot of shame and anger.
I love my life as it is, but he took . . . so much from me. If he wasn’t already in the underworld, I wouldn’t rest until I put him there.Bitterness swept across his features, and a tendon strained his jaw.
A shiver wracked through her shoulders. Yansley. The coarsest, most blood thirsty male she had ever met.
Rosalie told all of us how Yansley died. I am thankful to you, for protecting our Queen, he signed.
I’m sorry I could not have waited for you to kill him yourself.
He shrugged his shoulders. I put my hatred past me long ago.
Have you been blessed by the Goddess of Alloy? she asked next, not wanting to talk about Yansley anymore.
Some of the bitterness in Cannon”s eyes softened, and he looked amused. You might be one of the most unapologetically nosey people I have ever met.
Rorax smirked but didn’t bother denying anything.
Cannon sighed through his nose and nodded. I went with a handful of the newly deaf soldiers to the Life Temple, and then Alloy. The Life goddess could not heal the wound due to the black salt, but the Alloy Goddess gave me and a few others the gift to be able to feel vibrations in the Alloy around us; it helps us mostly in combat, to feel who’s around us.
Rorax grinned. That’s amazing. Watching you in the Tournament of Houses was incredible.
He nodded, but the smile wasn’t completely full-fledged. It helps. Because of it I’m never taken off guard.
He sighed, a muscle straining in his jaw again. Ayres won’t let me fight in any wars though or go to the front lines with my men. During the War of the Slaves, I was stationed in Surmalinn. Ordered to wait and watch as my friends and my men went to war. My ability gets muddled when I’m surrounded by too many bodies; it gets difficult to differentiate.
He picked up a twig in between his fingers and snapped it, aggravated. Rorax found a new subject. Congratulations on your tournament win. It was impressive.
He cracked a thin smile that relieved the tension building between her shoulder blades. Kaiya was angry with me for weeks after that.
That made Rorax smile, too, and she leaned back in her sleeping bag. I’m sorry. For what happened at Surmalinn. If I could change everything, I would.
Cannon stared at her for a long, tense moment before nodding at her. Thank you.
Povelinn is close by, right?
Yes. It’s about fifteen miles south of us.
Can we stop by there tomorrow?
Cannon was quiet for a long, tense moment, his dark eyes analyzing her face. There is nothing there except for smoldering ruins, Rorax. It’s nothing more than a grave. That city will not give you the absolution you seek.
I still want to go, Rorax signed back.
Rorax . . .Cannon reached out and snapped another twig in between his fingers. Ayres did not agree to this.
I need to see, she signed to him. I need to see what happened there. I’ll deal with Ayres.
Cannon sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. I’ll show you where the ruins are. But I won’t go into the city.
Cannon hadn’t lied or exaggerated.
About anything.
There was nothing left of Povelinn but ashes and burned out, crumbling structures.
Rorax walked around the ruins, stepping carefully down the cobblestone path that used to serve as the main road in and out of Povelinn, taking everything in.
Marras must have cursed the very ground here. Nothing lived.
After forest fires, the ash of the trees and plants added nutrients to the soil, making it easier for new growth. Here, it was like the ashes chained and strangled every new semblance of life, constricting everything to remain in the same state of decay. In every direction she looked, there was nothing but black soot and the jagged ruins of buildings.
As she toured what was left of the city, the black dust she kicked up with her steps smelled to her like fear and betrayal. The Wolf and the House of Ice had left nothing standing. Nothing but rubble, desolation, and complete destruction.
Rorax stopped walking when she made it to the city center. She’d already had to stop and vomit three times on her way, but as she stepped into the square and eyed the ruins of the temple that once stood there, the bile in her stomach threatened to rise again.
A cool breeze kissed Rorax’s cheeks and ruffled her hair as she crossed the empty square and stepped carefully into the temple ruins. The sides and the back wall of the temple had both collapsed in the fire, but the statue of Marras still stood; the white marble was streaked and stained with soot and what looked like blood.
Marras’s hood was drawn low over her face, her arms extended in welcome, as if she waited to embrace all who looked upon her form.
Rorax had never prayed to Marras before, and though it was dangerous to pray to the gods without knowing how they preferred their devotions, Rorax fell to her knees at the feet of the statue.
She looked up into Marras’s beautifully haunting marble face for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, and her guilt, her shame, her grief came to a peak, boiling under her skin so turbulently there was nothing she could do but cry.
Her sobs shook her so violently she had to lean forward to support herself on her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I should have stopped her, this . . . this never should have happened.”
Rorax stayed there, crying at Marras’s feet, remembering all the signs and clues, but she was too slow to understand until it had been too late. Rorax’s blind faith in the Wolf had allowed Rorax to be built into a monster. She was going to sacrifice everything to make it right, but her choices and decisions were something she feared she would never be able to atone for, and she would always see the blood that covered her skin. She stayed there, kneeling before Marras until the sun moved to the center of the sky, until she had no more tears to give.
She thanked K??n, and Ukuros, and any other god she could think of for giving her the handful of people she had who loved her back in Koppar. They’d brought her back from the darkness. Her soul would have been even more frayed, broken, and blood soaked than it already was without them.
“Forgive me.” Rorax looked up into that soot streaked, beautiful face once more. “Help me to protect them now.”
There was no answer and no movement beyond the soft breeze that danced through her hair, so she pushed herself up off the ground and slowly walked back to Cannon.