Chapter Thirty-Six

Zeal?

Zeal!

The small man was muddy up to his thighs, but he'd apparently survived the storm unscathed. He tucked away a set of lockpicks, glanced behind himself, started at a sound, then moved to climb into the vault.

It's Zeal, the knight says with unabating enthusiasm. Storms, I don't think I've ever been this happy to see someone breaking and entering.

"Zeal!" Nomad said, causing the man to stop in place, squint—then let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Sunlit?" he asked. "You blessed man. You survived?"

"I did," Nomad said, stepping forward with the sack of sunhearts. "Looks like you and I had the same plan."

Zeal peered into the sack, then up at Nomad with a grin on his face. "I…I can't believe you." He put a muddy hand to his head. "And here I thought I was saving the city. You had it all in hand, even after we abandoned you."

"I doubt you had a choice."

"We didn't, but—" He froze, hearing voices outside. He nodded to the side. "Maybe we catch up later? We've got about an hour left to save Beacon—which is going to be tight, with a forty-five-minute flight back at best, depending on the wind."

Nomad nodded, jumping out into the mud. An argument was going on in the near distance, where several of the Cinder King's officials were growing increasingly agitated. Apparently one thought that twelve people had been left here as tribute to the sun, while the other thought there had only been eleven.

Nomad followed Zeal out to the right, into the darkness. "Did you actually steal one of their scout ships?" he whispered.

"No," Zeal said. "Didn't have the wherewithal for that. I grabbed the controls after Rebeke collapsed from heat exhaustion; I barely got us back to the shadow before we all burned up. Rest of the team is out—either unconscious or throwing up all over the cab. Once we get back, I'd hold my breath if I were you.

"I was the only one still hale, though Rebeke seemed to be recovering faster than the others. Still…well, I decided there was only one option. I had to grab the sunhearts myself. With fresh ones for power, we can maybe push the ship faster going back. It's a hope, at least.

"So I landed and watched for lights in the darkness. I followed them while running dark, then snuck out and prayed to Adonalsium that I'd be able to manage on my own." He shook his head, the movement made barely visible by the rolling lightning in the clouds. "And there you were. Already in the vault. I doubted you, Sunlit. I'm sorry."

"No, Zeal," he said. "I—"

Nomad. Someone's following us.

He stopped in place, turning. Two burning eyes pierced the darkness behind them, illuminating the smiling face of a man walking at an even pace.

"Run, Zeal," Nomad said.

The other man gasped, then obeyed. Nomad stayed in place, meeting those eyes.

"Guards!" the Cinder King shouted. "Charred! They are here! Come, stop them!"

The shout was accompanied by thunder. But the man didn't seem too alarmed, despite his shout. He stepped forward, toward Nomad, and spoke in a calmer voice.

"I knew you'd come," the man said. "Call it…faith. That the true killer could not be defeated so easily. You wouldn't fall with a whimper in a city trapped on the slopes. You're meant to die in battle, offworlder. In battle with me."

Nomad stepped forward, as if to face off with the Cinder King right there. And he really wished he could. He'd stuff those burning eyes into the muddy water until they went out.

Instead he tried to keep the man talking, figure out his fatal flaw—something Nomad could use against him. Charred rushed by on both sides, chasing poor Zeal. Nomad kept his attention on their lord.

"You like being strong," Nomad said. "You like having power over others."

"All life," the man said, "is about having power over others. Wealth? It's about making others do the work you don't want to do. Strength? It's the ability to push back harder than those who would push you. Religion?" His smile deepened. "Do men from your world really become gods?"

"You are fixated on me," Nomad said, stepping forward. "You need to know if you are stronger than I am. Why? You already killed an offworlder…" Nomad narrowed his eyes. "No, you lied, didn't you? You found that other offworlder as a corpse. And you've wondered ever since, were they stronger than you?"

"Of course I am the stronger one," the Cinder King said, putting his hands out to the sides. "I'm alive. I didn't lie; I found your kin—sick, not dead—but I'm stronger. After all, they're now ashes. I have the sunheart to prove it."

Sunheart.

Damnation. Nomad really was an idiot.

He got close enough to the Cinder King that the other man slid a sword from the sheath at his side, grinning at the prospect of a duel.

Then Nomad started running.

Right past the man, who cried out and gave chase—but Nomad was faster. He dashed through the mud and lightning, rain spraying against his face, wind whipping at the makeshift garment he'd tied at his waist. He sped straight for the Cinder King's ship, then leaped up to grab the cold metal lip of the deck. He pulled himself up and shoved into the cab of the ship, racing through it to the cabin filled with trophies.

"Face me!" the Cinder King shouted behind him. "I am giving you the honor of doing so!"

Ignoring him, Nomad smashed through the glass on the display case and seized the tiny sunheart on the shelf there. It was the size of a pebble and glowing very faintly.

When he'd first talked to the Cinder King in this room, he'd been shown the book carried by the person whose soul now lay in his hand. A person from Nomad's homeworld.

This soul…he shared a bond with it. Would that be enough? He whispered the words of the prayer in Alethi. "Bold soul past the threshold of death, take into you my heat, that I may bless those who still live. Please."

He felt a sudden cooling in his palm. Heat being pulled from within him.

It's working? Auxiliary asked. Storms, it's working.

Nomad turned as the Cinder King stumbled into the doorway. He thought of punching the man, and his body started to lock up. The sunheart might be working as he'd hoped, but he wasn't ready yet. So Nomad gave the king a grin, then leaped back into the pilot's cab and smashed out the front windshield—recently replaced from his last escape. Fortunately for him, they had done a poor job of it.

"Fine!" the Cinder King shouted at him. "A coward, then? If my Charred kill you, that will still prove what needs to be proven. You hear me, offworlder?"

Nomad vaulted off the deck, then went scrambling through the mud back the way he had come. Lightning in the darkness showed him a worrisome sight—the ship, Elegy's ship, still in the mud in the distance. Zeal hadn't taken off yet, and Charred—tens of them—were climbing all over the thing.

Like most of the ships he'd seen here, this one was shaped kind of like an old naval boat—with a cab at back and a wide deck at the front. Railings rimmed the entire thing, and the Charred were crawling up the sides, onto the deck, assaulting the bulbous structure at the back.

Nomad arrived and, with a powerful bound, hauled himself up onto the front deck. He glanced toward the cab and found that the blast shield was hanging off, melted and warped. Through the window beyond, he saw Zeal and Rebeke desperately holding the back door closed against a group of Charred on the other side.

On the deck with Nomad, a familiar Charred—the one with the streaks across his face, like a fire poker had been taken to his cheeks—turned away from where he'd cracked the windshield with his truncheon. He saw Nomad and smiled broadly. He stepped forward, perhaps anticipating another easy fight.

With a concerted effort, Nomad formed a fist around the small, offworld sunheart—feeling it leech away heat from him. It tore at the crust on his soul. The Torment gave him some boons, and he wouldn't want to be completely rid of it. But a little skimming off the top and…

The Charred rushed him.

And Nomad—crashing through the numbness that tried to stop him—slammed his fist into the creature's gut. The Charred let out an oof as Nomad tossed him back against the ship's windshield.

Almost as one, the Charred who had been climbing or trying to break in turned toward him, rainwater dripping from their pale skin, their stone hearts glowing.

Lightning splintered the sky as Nomad raised that glorious fist before himself. Wit would have appreciated the dramatic moment. Nomad just grinned.

"Storms, yes," he whispered. "Finally."