Good luck, at last!
Ironfist slipped out soon after they passed his hidden room, then slipped out through the gate, locking it behind him.
Thank Orholam. He’d been starting to worry about time.
He walked at a low crouch until he was well out of sight on this cold, drizzly night. The Blackguards might chat with their reinforcements for several minutes, or they might come immediately. He wasn’t going to risk anything. Not tonight.
Only steps away from the boathouse where his objective lay, a voice called out from a shadow, freezing him.
“I never thought you could do this. Not you.”
Cruxer!
Cruxer couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old now, but there was no trace of a boy in his voice or his eyes. His sword was already drawn, tunic dripping with rain. He’d been lying in wait.
“How did you—” Ironfist began. But it was the wrong question. If only he had the Guiles’ golden tongues.
“I went to your rooms to speak with you. Some of your men are still loyal to the Chromeria,” Cruxer said. “They told me you asked one of them to test your old keys on these gates. So I know something’s back here. Perhaps you’re to let in some invaders? Order assassins, maybe?”
“No,” Ironfist said, but he felt a chill down his back at the mention of the Order.
“You’re in the Order,” Cruxer said.
“I . . . was.” Ironfist didn’t consider himself the most emotionally attuned man, but the orange seed crystal against his skin magnified his awareness of currents of feeling—and Cruxer felt as jagged as shattered hellstone, all dark glittery points ready to slice.
“All those years you were commander. They were all a lie.”
“No.”
“You infiltrated the Blackguard for the Order of the Broken Eye,” Cruxer said.
“I thought I could hold them together,” Ironfist said. “That they didn’t need to be opposed. That the old wounds could be healed . . .”
“So you’re a weasel as well as a traitor,” Cruxer said.
And suddenly Ironfist saw that this young man was as hard and unforgiving and as foolish as he himself had been at that age. And as dangerous.
“Cruxer, stop. You’re already in my zone.”
The kill zone was the area inside of which an armed opponent could complete a lethal assault before you could defend yourself. It could be a surprisingly large area, especially for a tall, quick man with a long reach and good training, like Cruxer.
Ironfist wasn’t going to just let him stroll inside the zone, but making a move toward his own ataghan would start them down a path to misery. When blades sing, words fall silent.
“Son, I can tell you everything, but you need to give me time to explain.”
“Time?” Cruxer asked. “How much time does it take for the orange bane to corrupt a man?”
Ironfist was stricken. Shit. He knew about the orange? The seed crystal was barely covered by his tunic’s neckline. If Cruxer saw it, what would he do?
“This isn’t you doing this, is it?” Cruxer said. “The orange bane has changed you, hasn’t it?”
“It has affected me,” Ironfist admitted. “ But—”
“Did it give you the idea to make yourself king?”
“Well . . . maybe. I’m not sure, but—”
“And to demand blood for blood?”
“I—that’s not what you think.”
“Treason and murder aren’t what I think?”
“I’m not going to go through with it! Son, you know me!”
“I know you? Which you? I looked up to you. You were everything to me. Everything I dreamed of becoming. You were the standard I fell short of. And it was all a lie. You’re here opening the gates for the Order,” Cruxer said.
“No, no! This is my vengeance on the Order. They’re the ones who killed my sister.”
“Your sister was insane. A loose cannon in storm-tossed seas. She was trying to kill you. You want me to believe—How about your brother’s death? You don’t blame that on the Guiles?”
Ironfist hesitated. “No. Not—”
“Liar.”
“Fine! I’m furious! But for the greater good, I can let it go,” Ironfist said.
“Like you let your integrity go?”
Ironfist’s chest expanded as he drew in air sharply, his teeth baring.
“Were you serving the greater good when you joined the Order?” Cruxer asked, his voice raw.
“I thought so,” Ironfist admitted. “Things were different then. The Order was just a tiny regional power halfway across the world from here. And they were the only ones who could save my sister. I thought I could keep my vows to them and to the Blackguard—I was all the way over here!”
“Our Blackguard vows include renouncing all other vows. And reporting them.”
“I was a kid! I made a mistake. You’re telling me you’re perfect, Cruxer? You’ve never made any mistakes? I seem to remember different.”
“You’re right,” Cruxer said, his face haggard. “I loved Lucia, and I got her killed. But I decided not to compromise my integrity ever again, and that’s the difference between us.”
Cruxer wasn’t taking his eyes off him. The young man was totally keyed up. And if Ironfist remembered his speed correctly, Cruxer was well within killing distance. Any wrong move Ironfist made was going to end badly. “Son, you have to believe me. I’m here to do the right thing.”
“Through treason and murder?”
“I know it looks bad. It’s a stratagem.”
“That the orange revealed to you,” Cruxer said.
Ironfist felt pierced through. He’d lied to Cruxer already, and the young man had seen through it. If he was caught in one more lie, this would be over. “Yes,” he said softly. “It’s for the greater—”
“Say ‘the greater good’ one more fucking time!”
“Easy, easy. Cruxer, please . . .”
“We’re soldiers! We’re guardians! That’s who we are. We obey! The greater good isn’t for men like you and me to decide!”
“Son, sometimes you still don’t know your ass from your elbow. A man never gets to put his conscience in someone else’s care. Every one of us has to decide what the greater good is.”
Cruxer’s face hardened, and Ironfist knew he’d made a mistake. Cruxer said, “You come upstairs with me now. You cancel the execution and I’ll let them decide what to do with you.”
“I can’t do that. We have to play this my way.”
“Oh, we do?” Cruxer said, stepping forward.
“Yes! Dammit, Cruxer, stay back!”
If Cruxer attacked, he’d lunge with that sword, but Ironfist wasn’t exactly unarmed. People saw the heavy chain on his arm and thought of it as costuming, or a slow offensive weapon if he unslung it. But as it was, tight from wrist to elbow to shoulder, it could also make a bit of a shield.
Ironfist said, “I’m here for Gavin Guile. My contacts told me he’s here. Locked up in a special cell beneath the Chromeria. There’s a hidden entrance out here. I can save him. I’m the only man on earth who can save Gavin Guile.”