Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(106)

“Temra, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” We’re too far from the fight to hear anything, but that only gives my imagination free rein to go wild. Imagine all the different ways people could be dying right now.

“Just a little farther,” she says. “It must be.”

And then I see it.

A cart locked on the track. It’s empty, though caked in a black residue.

But behind it, pressed against each wall of the mine—a line of coal. I bend down to examine the line on the right, and that other smell grows stronger. A shiny residue atop the coal.

Oil.

Accelerant?

I remember that word written in Petrik’s notebook.

Temra and I stare at the two lines of coal. They’re thin, extending deeper into the mountain, as far as I can see by the meager torchlight.

“Do we keep going?” I ask.

“No, here’s fine.”

“Now do I get to know the plan?”

“Yes. First, you need to light it. Both sides.”

I press the torch against the first line of coal. The oil catches quickly, and the fire snakes down into the tunnel lightning fast, lighting up the path. I do the same with the other side.

I hold my breath, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for Petrik’s plan to become obvious to me.

At least it’s no longer freezing down here. Or so dark.

“Hello, girls.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Kymora has my shield hammer in her left hand, her broadsword in her right. She blocks the only exit out of the mine.

“Ziva, run,” Temra says. “I’ll hold her off. You carry out the plan.”

I still don’t know the plan! And she should know better than to think I would ever let her do that. “I’m not leaving you.”

“She wants you. You need to go.”

Kymora makes a face I can’t quite interpret. “Aren’t we past all this? Trying to flee. Trying to fight. Surely you know by now exactly how that will end.”

I do. Temra dead. Me caught.

“I’m not making weapons for you,” I say. “Just leave me alone!”

“You will make weapons if you wish me to spare the lives of all the prisoners my men have taken. The battle is over. I have won.”

I look to Temra.

“Your sister’s life is already forfeit,” Kymora says. “There’s no escaping that. It’s punishment for what you did to my sword. For all the actions you’ve taken since fleeing your city.”

I swallow. “Please—”

“No. You don’t get to ask for anything. My mind is decided. Come now, and your remaining friends need not die.”

“Petrik—” Temra starts.

“Is alive for now. Can’t say the same for that mercenary fellow, though. What was his name?”

“Kellyn.” I choke on my next breath. My limbs go limp. My mind blank.

But my heart—my heart breaks into a throbbing heap. Each beat sends an aching pain so exquisite through my body, I nearly collapse.

“That’s it,” Kymora says. “You have no one but me now, Ziva. Let me take care of you. Let me put your skills to use. Let’s build something great together.”

Live for yourself.

You give me hope.

Ziva, I love you.

I close my eyes, let Kellyn’s face fill the blackness behind them, let the memory of his voice fill my head.

I love you, I tell that image. And I will regret forever never saying it to his face.

I want to break down. To curl in on myself and weep for everything I’ve lost. But there is no time. Not when I still have a sister to protect. Not when the whole of Ghadra still depends on me. I still have things to fight for. I can’t quit yet.

The heat from the coal warms me from the outside in, and my eyelids fly open. On the wall, I can see a vein of iron winking in the firelight.

And all at once I realize what Petrik wants me to do.

He’s delusional! I want to scream. We are going to have words when I see him next.

I can’t magic an entire mountain!

My knuckles turn white. The left on the torch, the right on my hammer.

“Back up, Temra,” I say, keeping my eyes on the warlord as I take a step away, putting more space between me and the danger.

“You’re going to run again?” Kymora asks, advancing a step. “How many people are you going to let die for you? First your parents. Then your sister. Your friends. Now everyone who fought for your cause. Is there nothing you hold dear? Nothing you’re unwilling to sacrifice?”

I continue to retreat, Temra keeping behind me, unwilling to blink and risk missing a movement from Kymora.

“Does this mine even have an exit?” the warlord asks. “You can run, but I will catch you. You’re exhausted from the fight. I haven’t even raised my sword yet. I’m fresh. I will overwhelm you.”

“Ziva,” Temra says, a note of fear entering her voice.

Kymora keeps pace with us, stepping around the mine cart, stepping between the two lines of burning coal.

“I have sacrificed nothing,” I say, answering Kymora’s earlier taunt. “I have fought for what I believe in. I have loved. I have lost. I have lived. But you? You missed out. Your son is one of the best men I know. You should have stayed close to him, loved him, learned from him. Perhaps you would have turned out better. You should have cared for the people under your protection, instead of seeking to overthrow them. You should have been content with the power you had. You should have lived for the people around you, instead of intent on conquering them.”