Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Aodan’s hands balled into fists. “No, we’re not friends! How can ya even ask? What makes ya think I could ever forgive something like this? I can’t pretend everything’s goin’ to be all right! Nothing will ever be all right again.”

  The bodyguard stormed into the deeper recesses of the suite, and Gudrin released Diddy’s hand to give chase. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. He didn’t know how to feel. Victory because someone had finally voiced what he’d wanted to for so long? Shame for not saying it himself? Or sorrow? His father never would have wanted them to be fighting so viciously among themselves.

  Dahlia approached Marc with open arms. He didn’t fight the embrace, collapsing against her shoulder.

  More irrational anger stole over Diddy. His mother and Marc looked wrong together. He couldn’t stomach the thought of it.

  “He’s in pain, Marc,” Dahlia murmured. Diddy could only just make out her words. “Don’t think he’s truly so angry with you.”

  Marc shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I’m trying, but I just can’t. Koal should be here. He could make everything right.”

  “Koal has always depended on your help. You have a job to do while he’s gone.”

  “What if I can’t do it? What if I make things worse?”

  “I have faith in you. I know you can do this. Koal trusts you. Rishi trusted you, too. What happened could have been blamed on anyone.”

  Diddy knew her words were the truth, even if he didn’t want to hear it. Deep in his heart, in the place he was desperately trying to ignore until the pain lessened, he knew Marc wasn’t really at fault. The dean had been framed. He’d been a victim, the same as Rishi. It just seemed easier to be angry than to face the truth.

  Marc wiped a palm across his damp cheeks, looking haggard and defeated. “What else would you have me do?”

  Diddy slipped a hand into his pocket. The key inside felt unnaturally heavy, a burden no one should have to bear. Bailey had managed to sneak it to the royal suite earlier that day. Aodan refused to even touch it, claiming he didn’t want the steward’s stench to rub off on him.

  With his arm outstretched, Diddy crossed the room. “Bailey left this for you.”

  Tears ran dry and were forgotten the instant the key switched hands. Marc turned the object over in his fingers, examining it narrowly. “Is this—?”

  “Neetra’s. Yes.” Diddy risked a quick glance at Kirk and Otho. He still wasn’t sure whether or not he could trust them, but perhaps this would be an opportunity for them to prove their loyalty. “While my uncle is in council, perhaps you can have your underlings comb through his things. If he’s hiding something, there’s a good chance you’ll find it there.”

  Otho made a sour face and crossed his arms over his chest. “Neetra’s quarters will be well guarded. A key won’t do us any good if we can’t even get to the door to use it. How do you propose we get around his sentries?”

  An artful smile crept upon Diddy’s face. “I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Eight

  The tree must have fallen recently. Small leaves clung to its spindly branches, still alive but beginning to curl, showing the first telltale signs of withering.

  Liza Nemesio slid from her saddle and approached the dying tree. Burls jutted out along the downed shaft like bubbles made from wood, but even so, the gnarled trunk would still make for a better seat than the ground. She let Lilly’s reins loose. The mare had been trained not to wander, and Liza rarely worried about the horse spooking anymore. In her advancing age, there wasn’t a whole lot that could startle the old girl.

  Pulling a ration of dried meat and crackers from within her bag, Liza flopped down and began to eat. Lilly nibbled at the leaves nearby, silver tail swishing back and forth behind her as she, too, enjoyed a reprieve from traveling.

  The troop had stopped for a quick rest to water the horses and scarf down their midday meals. They were on schedule so that, by evening, they’d be housed and fed in Ashvale. Liza couldn’t deny she was excited at the prospect. Maybe she’d even get a real bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept on anything besides a mat.

  Ah, in Ostlea we had cots. Still not the same as a bed, though, and horribly drafty.

  Liza ripped a morsel of meat free from the larger chunk and popped it into her mouth.

  Either way, I don’t think sleep would have come any easier. Not with our fingers and toes turning into icicles. The cold was more dangerous than anything coming down from Nales.

  Here in the south, a nasty bout of sunstroke stood just as likely a chance of killing a person as a Shirite brigand. Liza’s troop had faced both already. They’d spent an entire wheelturn in Winterdell, the northernmost township on Arden’s eastern border, in the shadows beneath the Pinnacles, where the summer heat scorched the ground and the winters were cold enough to freeze limbs solid. They’d lost two men to the elements, and another two when the Shirites had attacked Winterdell’s ramparts. Liza hadn’t told her brothers about it, though none of them ever asked either. She was glad for it. She didn’t want them worrying about her. She worried enough for the entire family.

  Liza wished above all else that her brothers remained out of harm’s reach, but it was a futile dream. The boys were growing up. Even now, Gib waited with the rest of the army in Perth, protected for the moment, but only a dozen leagues from Shiraz. Tayver and Calisto were in Silver, yet both were young men in their own right. Once, it’d been her responsibility to shelter them from the many evils of the world. Now she could only watch as they made their own way. The feeling was bittersweet.

  Appetite suddenly gone, Liza stowed away the rest of her meal and set her rucksack aside. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back, pressing her palms against the downed tree for balance. Coarse, rigid bark stung her calloused fingers, as though the tree, doomed as it was, continued to fight for its life. Liza found herself staring down at it with remorseful eyes.

  The ancient ironwood had likely seen better days, days of amity and prosperity, before bloodshed ravaged the countryside. Steadfast in its vigil over the land, it had surely watched villages rise and crumble and people live and die. It saw the shattering of peace—the beginning of the war. Now, with its severed trunk lying flat against the earth and roots torn from the soil, it likely wouldn’t see the end.

  Liza’s stomach twisted into knots.

  With any luck, our fate won’t be the same. Hopefully we will see the end of this war.

  Brisk footsteps caught her attention, pulling her back to the present. Liza lifted her face and smiled at the newcomer: a young, reedy girl with expressive hazel eyes and hair that was sheared close to her skull. She was one of the scouts, not a member of the longstanding troop. Liza didn’t know her name, and even though they’d been traveling together since the previous afternoon, they hadn’t spoken before now.

  “You’re Gib’s sister, aren’t you?” the girl asked.

  Liza began to rise, but the girl motioned for her to remain seated, so Liza extended one hand for a shake instead. “That’s right. I’m Liza Nemesio.”

  “Well met. I’m Gara Leal. My sister’s fiancé, Nage Nessuno, is Gib’s friend from Academy.”

  “Oh, right.” Liza scooted farther down the log, allowing room for Gara to sit. “Please, have a seat if you’d like.”

  A smile spread across Gara’s round face as she plopped down. “You and Gib look so much alike that I just knew you had to be the sister he talks about all the time.”

  Liza chuckled. “My three brothers and I all look alike. The same damn unruly curls cursed the whole lot of us. A gift from our mother.”

  “My sister and I both take after our father. When I cut my hair short, Da jokingly said looking at me was like staring into a mirror—” Gara paused as her bottom lip quivered. She quickly turned her face away. “Sorry. He was killed this past winter. It’s still hard to speak of him.”

  A terrible ache seized Liza’s heart. She knew all too well what the young girl mu
st have been going through. “My deepest condolences to you and yours. My own father died unexpectedly several wheelturns ago, so I understand.”

  “I know. Gib told me.” Gara raised her face. Her tiny hands continued to tremble in her lap, but for the most part, she seemed to have recomposed herself. “He and I talk sometimes, when we’ve stopped for the evening. I could be in the worst mood, yet he somehow always manages to make me feel better. Now I know why his friends speak so highly of him. He’s been a lot of help these past two moonturns.”

  “That’s Gib. Always helping. He’s possibly the most selfless person I know.”

  “His is such an inspiring story. To come from where he did, to beat the odds and find himself in Seneschal Koal’s good favor. You must be very proud of him.”

  “I am. I can’t ever say it enough.”

  Liza smiled sadly, wishing her parents were here to see them now. The boys had been too young to remember their mother, but Liza remembered. She remembered her mother’s sweet voice as she comforted Liza during a storm, or the time when she’d scraped an elbow falling from a fencepost and her mother had cradled Liza while she cried. Without a doubt, Holda’s gentle heart and forgiving soul had been passed onto the children. Liza could see it in the boys and even in herself. Their blind bravery and stubborn streak, though, came from their father. A part of Jakeob Nemesio would always survive so long as the family kept fighting for what they believed in.

  What might their parents say, now that the children were grown? Surely they’d be proud of Gib graduating from Academy. They’d likely praise Tayver’s talent for sewing and be happy to see how well Calisto could read.

  Liza frowned. Would they be proud of her? She’d done all she could to provide for the family. She’d raised the boys as best as she knew how. She’d tried to teach them the lessons of their parents: that hard work and determination would always be rewarded and love was greater than any amount of gold. She’d given her brothers the best chance she could.

  Her heart panged. She would have given anything in that moment just to know if she’d made her parents proud.

  Gara hopped to her feet. “Well, I better go. Rocelin and I are going to scout ahead. We’ll make sure there’s a hot meal waiting for you in Ashvale when you arrive.”

  “How much farther do you think we have?”

  “Not far at all, according to the map. You should be passing over the bridge at Kaleth’s Crossing within a mark. Ashvale’s a league away once you’re across the Nishika.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  Gara gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Liza Nemesio.”

  The scout began to leave, but as she passed, Liza’s sisterly instinct got the best of her. Her hand shot out to grab Gara’s forearm. “Hey, stay careful out there. Be on the lookout for trouble.”

  Brushing a hand over the sheath fastened at her waist, Gara nodded stiffly. “I will.”

  Liza waited until Gara’s slight form disappeared beyond the rest of the soldiers before taking hold of Lilly’s reins. “Come on, old girl. Let’s get you a drink before we have to leave.”

  She led the mare toward the riverbank. Lilly followed at her side like an obedient puppy, ears flicking forward as the soft trickle of running water reached them. A moment later, she tossed her head like a rowdy yearling and trotted the last few steps to the river’s edge. Liza chuckled, watching Lilly all but bury her face in the clear water.

  Liza stroked the horse’s silver neck as she drank, reflecting on all they had been through together. Lilly had been a good and loyal steed over the years. Together, they’d traveled to all corners of Arden. But Lilly was getting old. She deserved to spend her remaining years grazing happily in a pasture, not risking life and limb on the battlefield. Liza wished she could keep Lilly by her side forever, but it just wasn’t fair to the horse.

  When we return to Silver, I’ll find you a wonderful home, Liza promised.

  She gave the mare’s shoulder a pat and then said aloud, “We’ll get through this last mission and then you can rest. Daya knows you deserve it, old girl.”

  Lilly raised her head, as though she might be considering Liza’s words, but then her nostrils flared and her round eyes shot toward the far side of the river. Liza instinctively reached for her sword, still tethered to Lilly’s saddle.

  With eyes narrowed against the blinding afternoon sun, she searched for what might have caught Lilly's attention but could see nothing. Just an endless sea of dirt and dried grass. Her hand slipped from the gilded hilt.

  Odd. What could have startled her?

  “Ay-up, Liza!” a chipper voice called from over her shoulder.

  Liza pivoted. “Daya, Brim! Don't sneak up on me like that!”

  Her good friend and fellow soldier, Brimsley, trotted closer, grinning like a fiend. He waved a wineskin at her. “Thirsty?”

  “A little early in the day to be drinking hard liquor, don’t you think?”

  Brim arched one bushy eyebrow. “Do you take me for a fool? The captain would have my head if he caught me gettin’ drunk on duty. It’s water, I swear.”

  Liza took the leather canteen, though she sniffed its contents before taking a drink. Brim was known to be a bit of a prankster. Liza had no intention of falling for one of his wiles now.

  This time, he hadn’t been joking. Cool, fresh water brought needed relief to her dry tongue and parched lips. With a sigh, she returned the container. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  Brim nodded as he raised the wineskin to his own mouth and took a long swig. “We’re gettin’ ready to head out soon. The scouts say the bridge ain’t too far from here.”

  Liza watched Lilly out of the corner of one eye. Whatever had held the mare enthralled moments before must have passed, for Lilly’s attention had already drifted. She now nibbled at the sparse reeds that grew in the shallow water, tail swishing back and forth as though nothing had even happened. A bit of the tension left Liza’s shoulders. It must have been nothing—a bird or insect or even a blade of grass blowing in the wind.

  “Captain Brishen’s requestin’ a word with you.” Brim waggled his brows, smiling slyly. “Maybe it’s something to do with a certain promotion someone’s been deservin’.”

  “Oh, stop. There are plenty of people who deserve it other than I.”

  “You need to stop being so modest, my friend. There ain’t anyone else in this troop who’s as dedicated. You deserve to be captain.”

  Liza shook her head. It was no secret Captain Brishen was planning his retirement, but true to Liza’s humble nature, she refused to think she had any chance of succeeding him. Despite being allowed into the military, she’d yet to hear of any women earning a promotion within the ranks. Especially a rank as lofty as captain.

  “You really think this country is ready for such a thing? A woman, wearing the red cape of the captain and giving orders to men?”

  Brim shrugged. “Ready or not, the moment’s upon us.” Liza shot him a skeptical glance, to which Brim only chuckled and added, “Just you wait an’ see. You’re destined for greatness, Liza Nemesio!”

  Liza’s mouth twitched upward, dangerously close to something that resembled a smile. Whether or not she was “destined” for a promotion, she appreciated Brimsley’s enthusiasm and his support.

  Liza found Captain Brishen near the outskirts of the encampment. He perched atop a saddlebag, using it as a cushion to rest upon as he ate his midday meal. Mage Yama, a former professor at Academy who’d been reassigned to travel with the troop around the same time as Liza, stood beside the captain. His long, snowy hair matched the hue of his mage robes perfectly. Likewise, Captain Brishen’s silver uniform seemed like it had been tailored to complement his greying beard and hair, though Liza knew the man was far too practical to be concerned with such a thing.

  The two men conversed in muted voices but quieted when Liza’s shadow fell across them. Liza inclined her head, hoping she wasn’t interrupting anything important
. “I don’t mean to impose, but you wanted to see me, sir?”

  For a pause, neither man said anything, but then Yama bowed hastily to the captain and excused himself. “I’ll give the order to move out, Captain.”

  In a whirl of white robes and flowing hair, he departed. Liza couldn’t be sure, but she thought the mage might have even winked at her as he passed by.

  Captain Brishen beckoned with one calloused hand for her to approach. “Liza Nemesio, I was hoping you and I might have a word.”

  She gained no insight from his impeccably neutral words. Captain Brishen had always been difficult to read. Even now, as his sharp eyes studied her, Liza had no inkling what he might be thinking. He would have made an excellent politician, had he not joined Arden’s military.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, shuffling closer. “Of course we can.”

  “Good. Very good. Tell me, how are you?”

  Liza blinked. That seemed an odd question. “Fair enough, sir, given that we’re at war. It’s different than being stationed in one place, but I think I’ve adjusted as well as can be expected. We all have.”

  “Aye, we have.” The captain chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve spent this much time in a saddle since the Northern War. And back then, in my youth, I didn’t have to worry so much about creaking bones and swollen feet. I suspect you were too young to remember much of the Northern War, aye?”

  “I wasn’t even born yet, sir. My parents wouldn’t get married for another two years after the war ended. They told me stories though, of course. My father lost his elder brother. He would have been about the age I am now when he died.”

  “I, too, had a brother fall during the war. Two years younger than I. He wasn’t even drafted like so many unlucky men. The brave fool volunteered.” Captain Brishen shook his head. “He didn’t even survive a full moonturn on the front.”