Citadel of Fire

*CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE*

A Joint Decision

Faye had led them to a small room that felt far more cramped after the large inn.  But at least with far less dead bodies, Gray admitted darkly.  It was quite a ways from the Shadow’s Corner in a surprisingly nice district of Farbs, with clean streets, and tall, grand buildings.  Citizens of this district wore silks or other finery, and a good bit of jewelry too.  As they’d approached, he’d glimpsed the dark spires of a keep rising over the buildings. 

The Citadel.

            They were close, he knew, and Gray felt its pull, even now, through the thick walls around them.  He could still hear Ezrah’s bloody cries like a faint echo in his mind.  Somehow, even in waking, the dream seemed to persist.  His jaw clenched.  Time was running out.

Taking in the room, he didn’t know what to expect—it was Faye after all.

The walls were clay and thick, likely to obscure prying ears.  The only window was small, covered with iron bars, and set on a back wall.  On the left side of the room was a cluttered table, and beyond that a small bed.  On the opposite wall was a row of hooks holding an arsenal of weapons: wooden clubs—some with metal studs or thick nails—flanged maces, swords of all shapes and sizes, even a few polearms on a rack, and finally, several chains, each attached to a heavy iron ball with wicked, curved spikes like metal thorns.  A Senduku, Kirin said, a type of Farbian flail.  Gray nodded then shook his head, shutting the voice out.  Kirin had been silent since leaving Shadow’s Corner, and he rather preferred it that way for now.

All in all, Faye’s place was more like a quaint prison combined with a cozy armory than an actual home.

Darius grabbed something round, smooth, and white from the table.  Gray realized it was a skull.  The rogue’s hand froze in realization, and he let the skull clatter to the floor.  Ayva stood near the weapon-rack by the door.  Her hand fingered a pair of iron manacles with a thick chain.

Faye quickly stalked to the window, glancing out. 

“This is where you live?” Gray whispered.

Nearby, Darius brushed dust off a chair and plopped down, kicking his heels up onto the slender table that held stacks of books, writing paper, and other strange instruments.

Faye casually knocked his feet off.  “I once called it home, but no longer.”

Gray realized the truth of her words.  Dust hung over everything—a thin coat that testified to her absence.  Then he realized the oddity he’d felt: books lay open, blankets on the nearby bed were still tousled, and even food, or what had once been food, sat on a plate, molded and emitting a foul stink.

He neared the plate.  “Seems you left in a hurry.”

Dead flies dappled the crusted platter.

Faye looked to him calmly.  “A clever deduction.”

“Running from something?” Ayva questioned.  She still stood near the door, as if expecting to run at any moment.  She clutched her arm, looking about the place with dubious eyes.  Gray shivered as she and Faye exchanged looks that could boil water.

Faye merely smiled.  “Please, sit,” she said to Victasys and Zane, motioning to two chairs beside the door, pointedly ignoring Ayva.

Victasys took a seat.