The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  “Perhaps. If I need assistance, I can find it within the palace.” Mar said. “I’m sure quite a bit has changed since last I was here.”

  “When were you here last?” Reginald asked.

  Stroking his chin, Mar replied, “Oh, must be nine or ten years ago now.”

  Reginald nodded. “I’d say just about everything’s changed since then.”

  A smile crept over Mar’s face. “That’s exactly how I remember Genievon—ever-changing. I’d hoped that it had stayed the same. Now, might I inquire of you: where are you two soldiers returning from?”

  After sharing a glance with Lorinal, who shrugged, Reginald replied, “We’re returning from a mission.”

  Amused by their mistrust, Mar remarked, “Well, it sounds like quite the journey. It is strange to see soldiers returning at such an hour, though.”

  Smiling at his partner, Reginald said, “Lorinal insisted that we return at once. She has business to attend to within the capital.”

  Mar turned to her. “May I ask why you’re in such a hurry?”

  Lorinal’s back straightened, her lips twisting into a deep frown. “I heard a rumor. Something intriguing happened recently.”

  “Oh? Do you refer to the attempted robbery of the king’s palace and the Liberation Day Massacre?”

  She nodded.

  “But Axl Evander has been apprehended, and most of his group killed; there’s no reason to come looking for Arcane Veil now.”

  “It’s not Arcane Veil I’m here for,” she replied, her eyes focused on Genievon. The Kingswall appeared in the darkness.

  “Looks like our journey was short,” Mar remarked.

  Before long, the Nothron Gate’s silhouette emerged, taking form amidst the shadows. Darkened color receded into black, lining the edges of the torches lighting the parapet above. Mar stepped forward. There was no one at the guardpost.

  “Hey,” Mar called out, but no one heard him. Louder, he shouted, “Hey!”

  Gaze narrowing in suspicion, Lorinal said, “Doesn’t seem like they’re expecting anyone.” Her hand fell toward the dagger at her hip.

  Mar’s eyes flashed as they met hers. “I’m sure someone is here.”

  Then, louder still, Mar shouted, “Hey!”

  A guard peeked over the Kingswall and was visibly startled.

  “Someone from the north at this hour! Three people! What’s all your business, then? And be quick with it!”

  “I’ve come at the request of one of the king’s advisers,” the man replied. “And my companions are returning from a mission sanctioned by the King’s Militia.”

  “Oh, really? And I’ve just been promoted to master knight! I’ll only ask one more time—what’s your business?”

  Lorinal shot a glance to Reginald, who twirled his spear. Her hand was now resting on her dagger’s sheath, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. Mar saw her fingers twitch out of the corner of his eye and sighed.

  He removed his hood, revealing an unshaven countenance with gray stubble and stern, green eyes. His mid-length raven hair was peppered with gray, and he looked to be in his forties.

  “I’ve been summoned on the business of the King’s Council,” the man replied. “The Lord of Northstead has returned to Genievon.”

  The guard blushed crimson. “The Lord of—oh no. Forgive me, milord. Myrddin did say to expect you at a strange hour. Please forgive me, milord.”

  “No need,” Mar replied. He breathed a sigh of relief as Lorinal and Reginald lowered their weapons.

  Within a few moments, the Nothron Gate rumbled and groaned; then, it slowly raised before the trio, who stepped through. A second guard stood on the other side. Mar turned to him and pointed to a row of portals near the empty marketplace.

  “Tell me, friend: is the closest portal to the palace still just down that-a-way?”

  The guard nodded vigorously. “There’s a new one closer, but it’s the same way, milord. Welcome back to Genievon.”

  Lord Mercer said his thanks and then turned to Lorinal and Reginald. “It was lovely traveling with you, sir and lady.”

  Reginald nodded. “And you, my lord.”

  Lorinal sighed deeply and said, “Sorry for the trouble. Have to be cautious in these crazy times, right?”

  Mar smiled. “That we do. I wish you the best of luck. I hope that whatever business you’re attending to is fruitful.”

  For an instant, her eyes were aglow with pain. Then her lips curled into a half-smile as she said, “Same to you, Lord of Northstead.”

  With that, they went their separate ways. Mar went to the portal and stepped through it. The city was just as grimy and hopeless as he remembered—just as he loved. Before long, he reached the palace’s walls. A handful of stray beggars loitered nearby, rolling handmade dice on the ground, each using telekinesis to produce a desired number.

  Bigger than it used to be. Less pretty, too, he mused. I like it.

  A guard atop the Inner Wall shouted, “Who goes there?”

  A second voice spoke up. “He’s with me.”

  The space next to Mar contorted, twisting into a circular void. It darkened in color toward the center of the spell, where a single strand of light streamed through. The portal emanated a chilly aura.

  Mar smiled. I was wondering when the old bastard would let me in.

  He stepped through and was greeted by an elderly man wearing blue robes and bifocals; the man’s beard was wild and untrimmed, and his hair was long and white.

  “Myrddin, you old bastard.” Mar smiled. “Where the hell were you at the Kingswall? Could have used the vouch then!”

  “I believed that the Lord of Northstead himself would have no trouble getting in.” Myrddin nodded. “I’m glad to see you in good health.”

  The wizard extended a hand, and Mar gave it a vigorous shake. “And you. Now then, shall we go inside? It’s quite chilly these days, isn’t it? I thought you bastards were controlling the seasons from here.”

  Myrddin’s lips formed an amused smile. “Oh, we are. We’ve decided on a cold season.”

  He cast another portal to his personal chambers. Mar followed him and sat in a desk chair next to the wizard’s bed.

  Mar gestured toward the bed. “Didn’t know you had a need for that.”

  Myrddin sat cross-legged on the floor. “No need, per se, though it does feel nice to just close my eyes and exist every now and then. But no, I’ve been much too busy for sleep, I’m afraid.”

  Leaning back, Mar asked, “Is that why you summoned me to Genievon? To help you keep up?”

  Myrddin frowned. “No. I’m afraid that’s not the reason at all. We shall come to that later. How was your journey?”

  “It was fine. No bandits this time, though I’ve seen increased activity. I’ve no doubt Northstead will be overrun when I return,” Mar replied.

  The wizard winced. “Forgive me. I know you hate leaving your home.”

  Mar waved his concerns away. “Northstead is conquered every time I take a piss. I’m curious to see what sort of setup they’ll have with this much time.”

  “Have the bandits been that courageous lately?”

  Mar shuddered; he’d seen combat, but never anything like the battle between these bandits. “Courageous? No. Like starving beasts. I try to keep them away, but they keep coming. There’s little shelter on the plains aside from old Ithratan ruins, and there isn’t much food. And whoever’s sending them—it’s almost like they want them to be desperate.”

  Myrddin removed his bifocals to massage his eyes. “This is distressing news. The north is waking.”

  Mar shook his head. “The north is not waking, wizard; it never slept. I hear whispers of names thought lost to history, and I see their shadowy designs from the forest daily. And these bandits—they’re after the same thing as the shadows.”r />
  There was concern in Myrddin’s eyes as he continued, “On that note, there are grave tidings from within Genievon as well.”

  A chuckle escaped Mar’s lips. “I heard some nobody robbed your vault in broad daylight. Say what you will—that’s bold.”

  The wizard scowled and said, “He did not act alone. I’ve spoken to Axl Evander, accursed fool that he is—and that’s a charitable interpretation. He was guided by a stone: one that he claimed was capable of divulging events from the future—one that he claimed was never wrong.”

  Mar paled. “Let us hope it is some cheap trick.”

  Myrddin shook his head. “I fear not. For a thousand years, they planned against us. Now, the enemy is in their endgame. And that is not all: I believe shadow telepathy was used against our citizens.”

  “Impossible. The Eternal Laws would prevent outsiders from casting such spells. Even were they outside the borders casting in, their attempts would fail.”

  “I’m afraid that may not be the case anymore. I’m beginning to suspect that the Eternal Laws were tampered with.”

  “I see.” Mar stroked his chin. “This is the most distressing news of all. If they were tampered with, one of two things is true: either the enemy is in Genievon, or someone in Genievon is working with them.”

  Myrddin scoffed. “Or someone else is monumentally short-sighted and stupid. Which brings me to why I’ve summoned you here to begin with.”

  Mar’s eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

  He knows who did it.

  The wizard nodded and said, “There will be a position opening up on the King’s Council soon: The King’s Keeper of Secrets, to be precise. I should like it if you were back in Genievon to fill it. I know this will cause Northstead to fall into disrepair, and for that, I beg your forgiveness, but the Order needs you here.”

  Lord Mercer leaned back. “You wish me to enter the realm of politics? I thought we were friends.”

  “I only ask it for the sake of the Order,” Myrddin said. “Things are changing here—fast. Perhaps a little too fast for my schedule.”

  “Well, nothing’s ever gone according to plan for us, has it?” Mar asked. “This girl has a habit of throwing a wrench into things. Perhaps if she knew—”

  Myrddin shook his head. “If you wish to tell her, tell her. But I will not; I’ve seen what happens when it goes wrong.”

  “Are you having doubts about your selection?”

  “No, none—I’m decided. But I’m old enough to have been sure before. I’m not doubting her but myself, you see.”

  Mar smiled. “You always did love to overthink everything, my old friend. Don’t you have somewhere to be soon? The sun will rise in only a few hours.”

  Myrddin nodded and gazed into the distance. “I was sorry to hear about your sister,” he said softly.

  Mar’s eyes moved to the ground. I spent ten years in Northstead trying to avoid the world’s pity; now I guess it’s time to face it.

  Sighing, he said sorrowfully, “Yes. She was asleep when she went. I suppose that’s something, considering the nature of it.”

  “At least she didn’t suffer in the end.” Myrddin frowned. Elia Mercer had come down with Northern Fever as a child, after a nasty bite from a frost wolf. The illness clung to her for thirty years. Sometimes, she was perfectly normal; other times, she thrashed about in fits of pain and had to be restrained to keep from hurting herself or others.

  The Lord of Northstead shuddered. She suffered, all right. Thank the gods it’s over.

  The wizard’s words interrupted Mar’s melancholy. “When did this happen?” he inquired.

  “Three months after last I returned. I buried her next to Etrea, Mother and Father, and what was left of Val and Humboldt. And all my bloody ancestors—too many to name.” Mar chuckled. “We’ve lived there for so long that the grounds can barely hold all the bones.”

  “And here you are before me, last of House Mercer.”

  Mar rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now; that age of houses and noblemen is passing, though its shadow festers. And so, when I die, so, too, will my line: The House Mercer. For centuries, we were the Stalwarts of the North—reduced to old men waiting to die: a sign of the shifting tide. We may have been the first, but we will not be the last.”

  “It’s not too late to conceive an heir,” Myrddin said. “There are willing suitors for any lord.”

  Mar waved the wizard’s concerns aside. “I’ve come to terms with the end of it all. I think it’s really quite beautiful to become buried in history—remembered, if at all, by people who never knew you. Carried on, or perhaps forgotten—it is not for me to decide.”

  Myrddin shook his head. “Who will defend Northstead when you’re gone, then?”

  Mar’s tone was grave. “Oh, it’s far too late to save Northstead. The north is coming, Myrddin, and it is nothing but death and hatred. No number of sons or daughters I could’ve produced would have slowed it—I would’ve only fed the gluttonous shadow. Northstead will fall. It’ll be a miracle if all of Gaddeaux doesn’t.”

  “Time is short, then.”

  “Not for you, though, is it?”

  The wizard stood. “Especially for me, my old friend. Now, there is business I must attend to. I’m sure you have many people to visit to begin your stay. There will be time later to reminisce.”

  “The business you’re attending to—it’s the girl, isn’t it?”

  Myrddin nodded.

  Mar gave a half-smile. “I’ll be looking to meet her shortly; she intrigues me.”

  “At least wait until you’ve secured your position on the council. You’d be wise not to be seen around other council members in the meantime; we don’t want to expose the Order’s business to the world.”

  After a hearty chuckle, Mar said, “Of course not. Well, then—I suppose I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “I may stop by every now and then. Will you be staying at her house? Did she leave it to you?”

  The smile quickly gave way to a frown. “Yes. During one of her last conscious moments, she told me to get out of Northstead while I could. Feel free to visit. You know I’m always open to company.”

  And ten years later, here I am—finally listening to you, sis. Some brother I am.

  “Northstead hospitality,” Myrddin chuckled. “Good luck to you.”

  “And to you.”

  With that, the wizard departed. Mar left Myrddin’s office and found a portal leading outside the palace. As the sun rose over Genievon, he strolled through the streets of a waking city. Morning light illuminated half the street before him, leaving the other half engulfed in shadow. The sky was a brilliant crimson.

  Home enough for now, Lord Mercer thought as he walked to his sister’s old house.

  Chapter 2

  Echoes

  Day 96 of the Season of Aion, 1020 YAR

  Keia stood on the crest of a hill that overlooked two ancient armies preparing for battle. One side was led by a woman in shining armor; the army behind her was heavily outnumbered but seemed determined to fight to the death.

  Leading the other side was a man wielding a blade of twisting shadows. He exuded a powerful aura, but his body was deformed—his humanity had been the price for his magic. His soldiers were glassy-eyed, unthinking, as if they were being controlled.

  Keia moved closer to get a better look as the armies began to collide on the wings. In the center, the two leaders engaged in a duel.

  It was unlike anything she’d ever dreamed of. Reality warped and shifted around the combatants. The woman’s spells flowed from a staff, while the man seemed to will darkness into existence with sheer hatred.

  I wonder if they even know what they’re doing.

  Their magic was beyond human comprehension. Time slowed and started as their spells crashed against each other’s defenses. Th
e man tried to push the offensive with his cackling blade, but she stayed out of range by warping away.

  She doesn’t even need portals—lucky her.

  A massive battle swirled around their duel; the woman’s soldiers were better equipped and fought with ferocity, but they were impossibly outnumbered. Her faithful formed a wall of shields, but the enemy’s endless mass crashed against them in bloodthirsty waves. Most spear tips and blades bounced off the tightly compacted shields, but some leaked through, bleeding the woman’s army dry—one thigh, one torso, and one shoulder at a time. Only the woman had the power to save them as they slowly gave ground to the hateful horde. Their fallen comrades were trampled.

  The woman appeared to be losing. Pure darkness erupted from the man’s hand as he approached. His spell crashed against her ward, pushing her backward little by little. He closed the distance, keeping her pinned down; then, he raised his sword to strike the killing blow.

  Just as he began his swing, a blinding light flashed from the woman’s staff. The light tore through the darkness and clashed with his sinister blade. Energy erupted as their weapons met; hers spun in midair, inches from her fingertips, as it projected a circular barrier lined with ancient writing. She calmly, even beautifully, whistled, hummed, and sang to keep the spell active. His blade madly sizzled and spit sparks of shadow as a massive wave of dark energy was repulsed by her incantation.

  Their spells ceased. The combatants stood ten feet from each other. The lady raised her staff, which glowed with blinding radiance, into the air to cast something, while the man, with shadowy fire trailing his body and his blade raised to strike, leaped forward—a familiar voice interrupted.

  ‘You may return, young Keia.’

  The world faded into itself as her vision ended.

  —

  Keia’s hazel eyes opened. The familiar glow of the veins of light-blue Skystone washed over her. The pleasant shine illuminated the endless tunnels to either side of her, like jets of azure streaking forever into the darkness. Myrddin sat a few feet from her with a grin on his face. It took her a few moments to adjust.