The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  The veteran grumbled.

  “Do you know why you failed?”

  Half-heartedly, the man said, “Sir—yes, sir.”

  Oliver said, “No matter how powerful our enemies are, we have only the soldiers on our right and left. That is all we ever have, and rarely do we have the luxury of choosing them. It does not matter how strong any foe is; never underestimate the power of people standing together, united in mind and spirit for a common cause. And do not take for granted those who want to be here. One day, they may just save your life.”

  Keia thought about this. Together.

  He sighed. “You are all dismissed for the day. Go and enjoy your evening.”

  Everyone except Keia immediately made for the exit portal. She twirled her hair.

  Oliver smiled wearily. “I know by now that means you feel uncomfortable or have something to ask; which is it?”

  Avoiding meeting his eyes, she admitted, “I just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything from Aliya.”

  Oliver’s mouth twitched, pulling downward. “Nothing new since last time, I am afraid. Has she not reached you?”

  Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Keia said, “No, not yet.”

  In a loud, deep voice, Oliver said, “I will tell her to reach you next time she gets in touch with me. I am sure their mission is very touch and go.”

  Feigning half a smile, she replied, “Oh, no doubt. You about to go to dinner?”

  Oliver grinned coyly. “Yes. I have plans with Majee tonight; we are going to one of the best restaurants in Genievon.”

  All too happy to keep the subject changed, Keia teased, “Gotta find ways to keep her interested, what with how boring you are.”

  Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Boring? I am far from boring.”

  “What’s the most interesting thing about you, then?”

  He smiled and cast a portal. “Have a good night, Keia.”

  “Oh, Captain?”

  “Yes?”

  She clasped her hands behind her back, shifting her weight. “Something—weird happened during drills today.”

  He turned to face her. “Oh?”

  Keia gulped. Should I tell him?

  Images of Lorinal’s hateful stare flashed through her mind.

  She already hates me. Imagine how mad she’d get if Captain Alrick talked to her—if she found out that I told him…

  “Keia?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, sorry. Um, I cast a ward! Finally managed to get it. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it held out against a spell.”

  Oliver smiled. “You are coming along.”

  With that, he left. Keia sighed.

  I’ll bet Devin left with Raya.

  Myrddin approached with a smile. “Now that everyone is gone, we can begin tonight’s lesson. I wanted to do something different tonight.”

  “So you’re not going to cast spells at me?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not going to make me cast spells until I puke?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I guess it will be different.”

  Myrddin chuckled. “Yes, it will be. Please sit with me.”

  The wizard sat. Keia shrugged and plopped down next to him.

  He began, “I have tried to be the best teacher I can be. It’s been difficult; I won’t lie. Watching you struggle has not been fun for me, Keia. I can’t even imagine how you must feel.”

  Keia frowned. “I’m tired all the time, but the material is interesting.”

  “Do you remember what I told you the first time we spoke?”

  “You said a lot of things—almost all of which sounded like the ravings of a crazy old man.”

  A breathy laugh escaped the wizard’s lips. “That’s fair. I spoke to you about your emotional alignment—how I believed yours to be out of sync.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember—you basically called me a mess to my face.”

  “Did I upset you?”

  Keia’s brow wrinkled. “I was a mess at the time—so, no; it was refreshing.”

  “Good. Do you know why the emotions of a mage are so important?”

  “Controlling your emotions comes in handy during a fight.”

  “Yes, that much is true, but there is more to it. Our thoughts can connect us to Gaea if our bond with it is strong enough. But the nature of that bond—it is not the mind which tethers us to the spirit of the universe, but our feelings.”

  Keia’s eyebrow raised. “Feelings. Really?”

  “Yes. All of this is theoretical, I should say—never trust someone who claims to understand what magic is, where it comes from, and why we can use it, but it is the theory which makes the most sense to me.”

  This lecture was off to a confusing start. Keia asked, “Why my feelings, though? What about my mind—my, well, spirit? Aren’t they important, too?”

  “Of course they are. Your mind is a thing of its own—the spirit, another; both are important. But what you feel is also very real. To discard your feelings is to deny yourself what makes you acutely human.”

  Keia’s thoughts turned to Axl. I really felt like he believed in me—same for Aleister. I felt sure that Carter would come back.

  “I’ve trusted my feelings before, and they’ve been wrong.”

  The wizard nodded. “As have I. I’ve also made mistakes with my mind and my spirit; humans err on every level.”

  Keia frowned. “What are you saying? Enough with the vague nonsense—get to the point.”

  Myrddin crossed his arms. “Very well. I’ve spoken to you several times about the profound nature of your connection to Gaea; that connection was rooted in the deepest, most unfathomable depths of your emotions.”

  “So I have to feel what I did back then?”

  “No; it’s not that simple.” The wizard placed a Skystone shard in Keia’s palm. “Close your eyes.”

  Keia did so and took a few deep breaths. There was no blue light.

  “Delve within. When you think you’ve gone as far as you can, push further. Search yourself. Why are you here? Why have you continued to struggle for so long?”

  A kaleidoscope of images suddenly flashed through Keia’s mind: an old memory of casting her first portal—so old that it was impossible to remember at what age it had occurred. Confused, she observed her younger self, caught off guard by the experience of watching and remembering at the same time.

  Another memory popped up: Aleister training Keia in his backyard. She almost smiled before remembering how much she hated him for abandoning her.

  Finally, a third memory appeared before her: that of her battle against the figure in Myrddin’s vault. She felt his power once more. Exhaustion overtook her, and her loneliness, fear, and despair all mixed into one; she was certain she would die there, on the floor of some metal vault careening toward the edge of the world.

  Her eyes slowly opened, a new understanding dawning on her. “My magic,” she said softly.

  In a quiet voice, Myrddin replied, “Search deeper. Why?”

  Keia’s eyes closed tighter as more images flashed before her. She saw her mother and father standing before her, dressed in ceremonial armor, their faces proud. Beside them was Carter, lying dead in the snow. Next to his corpse was a young boy who looked like a much younger Keia, eyes filled with anger, fear—and sorrow.

  She winced, waiting for the images to make sense.

  Another image appeared—that of Devin sleeping in her medic bay. And Aliya trekking through Greerwood.

  Wait…

  Keia’s eyes opened. “For them.”

  “Huh?”

  Keia frowned. “I’ve been trying to get my magic back for years. I always knew I had to get it back, no matter what. I wanted it so badly, but all I saw when I closed my eyes and wondered why were my family
and friends.”

  Myrddin nodded. “That’s very interesting.”

  Keia closed her eyes again. “I wish I could protect them.” She waited for Myrddin to speak, but he didn’t. She continued, “I’ve always wished everyone could be happy and safe—that no one would have to go through the things I did, or worse. But I was never strong enough to make that happen. Imagine that—me, thinking I can protect anyone. Thinking I can end all the suffering on Alea.”

  “Suffering, however unpleasant, is ultimately a fact of life. We cannot control every person so rigidly that everyone would be safe from humanity. Even the most powerful spellcasters of all time couldn’t prevent every horrible event.”

  “It still doesn’t mean that those suffering deserve it.”

  The wizard nodded. His lip contorted into a sharp frown. “Yes, of course, but back to the matter at hand—your emotions. I have a theory about how you might be able to recover your magic.”

  Before Myrddin could open his mouth to continue, Keia interrupted. “How?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s not a very—pleasant method.”

  “Just tell me.”

  After a few seconds, he said, “You must find and confront your deepest and truest emotions.”

  Keia’s head tilted. “That sounds easy enough.”

  The wizard nodded. “It sounds that way, yes. However, it can often change a person. You’ll have to confront hard truths: the parts of yourself that you hate the most—the parts of your past you wanted to forget.”

  Keia’s eyes fell to the ground.

  It couldn’t be harder than watching all my friends and family die because I’m useless.

  Myrddin stated, “You never knew your parents.”

  She turned away. “I don’t remember anything about them—no.”

  “I don’t remember anything about my parents, either, if it makes you feel better. Nine hundred plus years will do that to one’s mind. Either way—that is neither here nor there. We are here to address the issues plaguing your mind.”

  Keia’s eyes locked in on one blade of grass. Harsh truths…

  She sighed. “When Aleister left—it hurt. It hurt because I know I’m the real reason—because he couldn’t help me get my magic back. Once he realized I was hopeless, he fucked off—Aion knows where. Maybe that’s why I really ran away—because I knew I’d never be able to help anyone; I’d just given up.”

  Myrddin listened intently.

  “And now—I’m afraid.” Keia sighed. “Carter’s been missing for so long, and now Aliya’s gone to look for him—what if I never see either of them again? What if they’re alone and scared out there in that cursed forest? With—”

  “I can’t answer what-ifs. Aliya can handle herself—”

  “Even so, I’ve been seeing nothing but Carter in my meditations; he’s always dead or dying. I can’t help but be afraid.”

  “Because you don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. “Of course I don’t! They’re the only family I have left; I don’t want them to die.”

  Myrddin frowned. “What do you feel right now?”

  Keia searched inwards. “Pressure.”

  “What kind?”

  Her shoulders shrank inward. “Like the walls are caving in—like I’m alone, and bad things are coming, but I won’t be able to stop them.”

  Her eyes opened. The wizard was staring at her.

  In a soft voice, he said, “Listen to your feelings, no matter what tidings they bring. Be aware of them—accept them. By accepting them, you rob them of any power they may now have over you. By being in tune with one’s essential harmony—not at war with oneself—you will reach an awakening where you are in control. Your feelings are how the universe speaks to you.”

  Keia pondered this for a moment. “You think I’m still unbalanced.”

  “You are being pulled every which way—your magic, your family, your fears. You are still unsure of yourself. I know it will be difficult to find your balance amid your troubles. Meditation will help, of course, as it always will. But you have a lot of searching within yourself to do.”

  Keia nodded.

  Myrddin clapped his hands. “Now, I think that’s enough lecturing for tonight. What do you say we do the normal thing where I cast spells at you and make you cast spells until you throw up?”

  Keia half-grinned. “Now that you mention it, my wards could use a little work. And I’d prefer it to listening to you jabber on for hours.”

  —

  An ancient shadow surrounded Gaddeaux. For over a century, it probed every inch of the kingdom’s protection. The Eternal Laws were like a solid dome in the ocean, holding wrathful torrents at bay. Now the cracks were beginning to show.

  The day Gaheris struck down the Eternal Law against shadow telepathy, the shadow had seeped through the Kingswall, the palace, and throughout every home. Upon entry, the entity simply waited; it knew better than to gamble too much, too early. No, patience was the key; it only needed one person, and she had arrived.

  The shadow stumbled upon a sleeping young woman. How she tossed and turned—nightmares tormented her. The shadow entered the girl’s mind and embedded itself deep within her subconscious, scanning her mind.

  It saw her world through her eyes. In the dream, she was fifteen—the skies were darkened, the moon blacked out by a trail of smoke billowing into the night. Embers and ash had claimed her home—and the only family she had left. In a desperate haze, she dug through flaming debris and singed rubble, trying to uncover the bodies of her loved ones.

  The girl possessed a memory similar to her recurring nightmare; in it, she uncovered the bodies of her grandparents from the wreckage of their home. However, in the dream, she uncovered something else.

  A single arm popped out amid the piles of burnt wood and blackened brick. In a mad rush, the girl tripped over an unearthed piece of pipe. Crawling on her hands and knees, she reached the outstretched arm and yanked on it, freeing the body from the rubble.

  Upon beholding the corpse’s face, the girl jumped back, a scream trapped in the back of her throat. Her own eyes stared back at her, glassy and unfocused. Falling on her rear, the girl scooted back, panting.

  She was unable to peel her gaze away. The girl’s heart pounded in her ears as the body moved. First, the fingers twitched; then, it stood up. The corpse swayed, struggling to maintain its balance as it staggered toward the girl. Every muscle in her body was rigid as the cold hands grasped her leg.

  The girl thrashed about, kicking and punching at her corpse as it dragged her into the rubble. A terrified shriek clawed its way up her throat, her nails grinding into the dirt. The last things she saw were hazel eyes, a flashing light at the tip of a wand, and then total darkness.

  I can use this, the entity mused.

  Lorinal, the entity said. Her eyes opened instantly but were devoid of consciousness. She stood. Her posture was rigid, as if bound by some invisible force.

  Lorinal left the door open behind her as she wandered from her home. She stumbled down Sacrifice Road, her legs stiff and unbending. Eventually, she came to a house marked 167. The door was unlocked, as were most in the barracks; so she entered.

  The common room was dark, but she navigated it perfectly. Lorinal came to the door at the end of the hall and opened it. The entity heard through her ears as the room’s occupant gasped. Keia Atlos turned the spell-light by her bed on.

  “Lorinal?” Keia asked, fumbling for her wand. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  A voice came from Lorinal—but it was not her voice; it was that of a dead man very far away.

  Carter’s voice asked plaintively, “Why did you let me die, Keia?”

  Chapter 9

  Changing Fortunes

  Day 111 of the Season of Aion, 1020 YAR


  The sun rose over Madros Relia. Scipion woke before most of the others, then stood and stretched himself out for his morning walk, weighing everything on his mind. The young man walked to the nearby Green Creek, for which the settlement was named, and filled his deerskin pouch with water. He quenched his thirst before he filled it once more and returned to camp.

  I wonder where Matalo is, Scipion thought. His friend was usually asleep this early, dealing with headaches from too much wine the night before. He shrugged and walked toward the village; he wanted to ask Lady Anasia if they had a blacksmith who might have wares for sale.

  Scipion saw Matalo from quite a distance; he sat with Anasia and Zel Xaen outside the lady’s home. The woman laughed at one of Matalo’s jokes as Scipion approached.

  “Ho, Scipion,” Matalo said, a smile on his face. “What kept you sleeping for so long?”

  “Ho, Matalo. I don’t know how you did not sleep more, what with all the wine you drank.”

  Anasia turned to Scipion. “He speaks highly of you, Scorpion Knight. But still—New Dawn? People who go after them do not last long.”

  “We hope to last a bit longer,” Scipion replied. “We mean to track them down and ambush them. Without the element of surprise, we stand no chance.”

  “Not with your numbers,” Lady Anasia said sadly. “Only a miracle could rid these lands of their scourge with what you’ve got.”

  Scipion’s attention was grabbed by something in the distance. He could not identify their new guest but noticed his limp. Scipion pointed at him as Matalo and Zel Xaen rose.

  “Is he with you?” Zel Xaen asked, one hand ready on his sword.

  Matalo’s eyes were wide with confusion. “He wouldn’t be a scout—would he? Why is he alone?”

  Matalo, Scipion, Xaen, and Anasia closed in on the approaching man. Once they were near enough, Scipion recognized him to be Vonn, one of their scouts. The man’s leg was gravely mutilated, so much that Scipion wondered how he walked at all. The poor young man’s face was frozen in terror, and he wore a necklace of fingers. Several sets of eyes hung from his ears by metal pins.