The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

I just have to make it through Gladios; that’s all.

  Chapter 24

  The Trident

  Day 6 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  The first day of Gladios had arrived. The Jaaza Greatsword was comforting in Jisaazu’s hands as she practiced her stances to loosen up before the match. She considered the tourney a sideshow at first, but the excitement of the civilians had won her over—even if she was terrified of fighting in front of a crowd.

  I’ve fought to survive. I’ve fought to kill—but never to entertain drunks. Guess there’s a first time for that, too.

  After some consideration, Jisaazu decided not to use her warp armor. This was supposed to be a test of her skill; so, she wore a leather tunic and a pair of slacks. She was excited about her opponent—Gilfried, one of Keia’s friends. There was no reason she should lose to him or anyone here. They hadn’t been through what she had.

  After completing her stances, she jumped around a bit and then sheathed her blade. She left early to avoid taking a portal. The Gladios Arena was within sight from the barracks if one turned away from the palace. She quickened her pace, hating to give up a free win by being late.

  Jisaazu pushed through the crowd and finally came to the entrance to Gladios Arena. The plaza was packed with drunken fans. They all fell silent, heads turning toward her. She froze, the attention of so many staring eyes making her skin prickle.

  “She’s—that’s one of the fighters!” One of them shouted.

  “Jisaza! I put lots of money on you, eh? Hope you don’t let me down!”

  “You idiot—it’s Jisaji!”

  One of the civilians, an elderly woman, approached and spoke calmly. “You’re in the Warrior’s Tourney?”

  Jisaazu nodded. By now, her face was bright red.

  The woman pointed. “Off that way, then. You’ll come to a portal beneath a statue of a man with a sword. Don’t enter the portals beneath statues with staffs or wands. You want the sword.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “That blade—is it the Jaaza Greatsword?”

  Jisaazu nodded.

  The woman chuckled. “I put quite a bit on you. Can’t have you being late. Now, go and make this old woman some more gambling money!”

  Shaking her head, Jisaazu walked in the pointed direction and came across the statue of a knight in full armor with a blade pointed toward the sky. Beneath was a portal. She sighed in resignation and trudged through.

  After the uncomfortable chill of stepping through, Jisaazu arrived in the Hall of Warriors. Sandstone walls were lined with torches that illuminated several paintings of famous moments from tourneys past. Chairs and tables were scattered throughout the room, as were spellstones for water and food. Two of the king’s banners, depicting a burning sword surrounded by a crown, hung from the ceiling and framed the entrance to the arena itself. The grandeur of it all made her feel out of place.

  Just then, Gilfried stepped through the portal. She and Gilfried had both opted out of armor in favor of simple leather clothes. He smiled upon meeting her eyes; this threw her off, and she eyed him suspiciously.

  Their eyes locked—Jisaazu’s burning with desire and Gilfried’s full of quiet confidence. The blades of Gilfried’s trident each had a spellstone embedded within them. Did he really rely on magic in combat?

  Her eyes narrowed as Gilfried approached and extended a hand.

  She stepped back, unsure of how to deal with this. “I know who you are.”

  “I’m glad to be fighting a worthy opponent. This will be a great test for both of us.”

  Did he just compliment me before our fight? Oh, he’s definitely trying to get in my head.

  “Good luck,” she said before walking away. Gilfried shrugged and twirled his trident.

  They waited for what seemed an eternity before an attendant bid them to enter the arena through a dimly lit hallway. On the other side, the sky opened up into a colossal structure. Tiers packed with screaming people rose to the very heavens.

  Jisaazu paused, mouth gaping. How many people’s voices were contributing to that deafening harmony?

  Ten thousand? More. Thirty? she thought. She admired the marble and stone stadium; rows of grandiose seats extended hundreds of feet into the sky with special sections reserved for the King’s Militia, merchants, and the foreign lords and ladies. On the ground, a raised stone platform was surrounded by a field of grass.

  The crowd erupted in such a deafening roar that Jisaazu could only hear a faint ringing as Sir Kaine took the center of the stage. Upon joining him, their names were announced. Jisaazu unsheathed the mighty Jaaza Greatsword, while Gilfried prepared his trident. The blades of his weapon glowed a faint gray.

  Magic—just like I thought. All the better—if Gilfried relied on magic, he would be swiftly defeated. The Jaaza Greatsword offered protection against many spells.

  Blue-robed mages near the stage produced wands and whispered. Suddenly, Jisaazu’s blade and Gilfried’s trident were engulfed in a thin energy field, dulling the edges.

  Magic’s good for a few things. Don’t want to kill anyone, after all.

  “We went over the rules at the ceremony; I expect you both to know them,” Sir Kaine addressed the two. “Follow them, and fight hard. Now, bow to the king before we start.”

  Jisaazu and Gilfried turned to an especially decadent booth filled with notable people; King Symon sat in the center, and all around him were the lords and ladies of the provinces, their Honor Guards, and the King’s Council. The king raised a glass of wine and nodded. Jisaazu muttered under her breath as she halfheartedly bowed and turned to face her opponent.

  Sir Kaine’s voice echoed throughout the arena, “Let the twenty-third match of the Warrior’s Tournament now commence!”

  Jisaazu hardly heard Kaine’s sentence, for the roar of the audience drowned him out. The master knight leaped from the stage. The fight was on.

  Gilfried’s trident spun in his fingers, the orbs in his weapon’s blades filling the air around them with a vibrating hum. Jisaazu advanced, planning to end the fight quickly. Her sword pulled toward Gilfried’s twirling weapon, as if it wanted to leave her hands. Undeterred, she slashed sideways at Gilfried’s head. He caught the blade between his trident’s teeth and rotated their weapons, trapping the Jaaza Greatsword against the ground. Their blades locked, he surged forward, pushing her a few steps back. Her blade clung to his, but with a growling effort, she yanked it free.

  Jisaazu grimaced. The hell kind of magic is that?

  She tightened her grip and leaped. He controlled her blade’s movement with rotations of his trident as he blocked every strike. Her blade kept trying to follow his, preventing her from stringing together any coherent assault. Her strokes were jagged, unbalanced as she fought his magic’s influence. Even still, she drove him back.

  He was close to the edge of the stage—she had already won. Jisaazu raised her blade to strike vertically, but Gilfried tapped his trident on the ground behind her. She was yanked backward by her own weapon and fell onto her rear.

  Furious, Jisaazu scrambled to her feet and swung at Gilfried, but he caught the Jaaza Greatsword in his weapon’s teeth. He extended their weapons as far over the edge as possible, trying to pry her off the stage. She desperately clung to her trapped sword while trying to keep her footing. Jisaazu stumbled and fought to regain her balance as both feet slowly slid over the edge—first, just the toes, then halfway—

  Sensing an opportunity, Gilfried disengaged and swiped at her back to knock her off, but she blocked and sidestepped, pulling her blade free immediately. After running back to the center of the stage, Jisaazu wiped the sweat from her eyes. Her opponent looked fresh.

  Gilfried no longer appeared interested in learning her fighting style. He threw his trident, which was attached to his bracer by a long chain. Jisaazu blocked, but their weapo
ns locked together. Gilfried jumped at least ten feet and yanked on the chain. Jisaazu stumbled forward and pulled with all her strength against the trident’s influence. She freed her sword and dodged just before Gilfried grabbed his trident in midair and struck the ground with a resounding crack.

  Jisaazu’s eyes widened. Good thing she’d dodged that.

  The crowd was cheering madly for the underdog as she regained her balance.

  Gilfried continued his offensive. He threw his blade, locking them together again; then, he leaped forward and yanked on the chain, pulling Jisaazu toward him. He caught the trident as it disengaged. She barely managed to raise the Jaaza Greatsword in time to block him.

  He rotated their locked blades, hoping to pry the sword from her hands, but she held on no matter which way that twisted their tangled weapons. Jisaazu roared in fury and detached her blade with enough power to swing at him.

  He jumped back and threw his trident. She leaped and intercepted it in midair, but it attached to her blade—Gilfried yanked the chain and forced her to the ground. Jisaazu struggled to her feet and disengaged. He repeatedly threw the trident, punishing her with his superior range while she looked for an opening.

  Jisaazu charged after dodging a trident throw and swung with all her strength, but Gilfried retrieved his weapon and blocked just in time. He pushed her back and smiled confidently—this was clearly going better than he thought.

  He advanced with a barrage of stabs and slashes, trying to draw her off balance. Jisaazu blocked the oncoming blows until he caught her blade in his trident again and rotated, twisting her right hand from the grip. With a flick of his wrist, Gilfried disengaged and struck her right arm. Without the mages’ dulling spell, she may have lost the limb.

  The crowd roared feverously. Jisaazu’s entire shoulder went numb. She scrambled to dodge a vertical strike and moved backward to buy time. Jisaazu kept her distance. Gilfried threw his trident to bait her into attacking, but she knocked it aside every time. She was sweating heavily; he smelled blood in the water as she desperately defended herself.

  Finally, Jisaazu was out of options. The blade’s weight was straining her left hand. She was running out of time—it took too much energy to disengage her blade from his. Suddenly, an idea came to her.

  Her eyes blinked into focus. She readied herself and ran at Gilfried. For a moment, he was surprised, and then a cocky smile overtook his face; this was exactly what he wanted—Jisaazu knew that. She anticipated the trident throw and sidestepped it; she then charged Gilfried at top speed. He retrieved his weapon just in time to block Jisaazu’s full-frontal assault, a desperate series of savage strikes with one arm.

  She had to knock him off the edge to win this fight. Gilfried tried disrupting her onslaught, but she kept her balance. Jisaazu drove him backward until her opportunity came. Gilfried jumped back against the edge and threw his trident.

  Jisaazu sidestepped without blocking and charged him a second time. Gilfried pulled on the chain.

  Now!

  Jisaazu threw the Jaaza Greatsword, and the trident arced in midair to follow. With her opponent disarmed, Jisaazu jumped into the air and kicked him in the chest. He flew some ten feet from the arena stage and landed on his back. Jisaazu landed on the arena’s edge. The crowd, silent for a confused moment, broke out into a deafening roar.

  Gilfried smiled as he dusted himself off. Jisaazu felt the sensation in her arm return as he approached. She panicked, not knowing what to say. He extended his hand. Jisaazu stared at it for a moment and shook it. Both of their hands were drenched in sweat.

  “I told you it would be a worthy fight,” Gilfried said. “I specialize in fighting swordsmen thanks to my magnet enchantment, but you’re something else. Thank you for the opportunity to test myself.”

  “No, thank you,” Jisaazu said. “You were a worthy test yourself.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Gilfried told her. “Now, go on and win this whole tournament so that I look better for losing—or at least put up a fight against Sir Kaine. I’m going to go lick my wounds. Tell Keia that I said hello.” He turned to leave.

  Jisaazu shouted after him, “You fought admirably!”

  Gilfried smiled at the compliment as he left.

  Sir Kaine took the stage and announced, “We have a winner! Jisaazu of the Jaaza Greatsword. Give a round of applause to her fierce competitor, Gilfried Calwenn, the Trident!”

  The master knight smiled at Jisaazu and said so that only she heard, “He’s got pluck, that one—but not as much as you. Hell of a move, there—glad you figured it out.”

  Despite the compliment, Jisaazu felt ashamed. She had underestimated him, and she had almost lost the fight because of it. She had failed to see the warrior within.

  Exhausted, she trudged through the empty streets to 167 Sacrifice Road. After a short bath, she crawled into bed wondering what could be learned from the brutal affair. One thing was certain—Gilfried had won Jisaazu’s respect.

  —

  After the day’s matches were completed, Keia told her friends that she needed rest and went to Genevieve’s Garden. She needed to clear her mind before her own match the next day.

  She wished Gilfried had won but wasn’t unhappy; Jisaazu was gracious after a hard-fought victory. Keia was glad Jisaazu and Gilfried found mutual respect. She knew Gilfried didn’t mind losing to someone as strong as Jisaazu, but his defeat still ate at his competitive spirit. He had given it his all against a true warrior.

  Keia was slated to face off against some boy from the Fourth Magician’s Division. Her opponent hardly bothered her. Something was off, and it wasn’t about the fight.

  Keia heard footsteps but ignored them. Most people were celebrating the day’s matches, but some preferred the tranquility of Genevieve’s Garden.

  “You must be Keia Atlos,” a deep, authoritative voice called out. “I was told that I might find you here.”

  She turned to see a man of medium height with short, blond hair and a well-trimmed beard. He had blue eyes and wore a simple cloth tunic. He stood straight, making him seem taller than he was, and had a rigid and unbending posture. At his lips was the hint of a smile but nothing more. Keia believed she’d seen him before but couldn’t place when.

  Her eyes scanned him for anything suspicious. “You were told correctly.”

  “May I sit?”

  Keia nodded but was unsure of what to make of him; he looked familiar and seemed lordly.

  “You look troubled, Lady Atlos.”

  “Forgive me, but I don’t know who you are.”

  He gave a quick half-smile. “Forgive me—of course you don’t! We’ve never met. I have looked forward to meeting you for quite some time. My name is Stern Keenig, Lord of Vordenheim.”

  Keia’s eyes widened. What the hell did the Lord of Vordenheim want with her?

  He frowned. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can leave.”

  “No, it’s just, I—I don’t understand,” she admitted. “Why could you possibly want to meet me, of all people?”

  “You don’t remember me? Well, I suppose it’s quite all right, it was quite a long time ago.”

  “What are you—” Suddenly, she remembered.

  His eyes were pained as he said, “You avenged my father’s death.”

  “Ulrich...”

  “Murdered my father. I wanted him to hang, but you saved me the rope. I am truly sorry, Lady Atlos. I can’t imagine going through that at such a young age.”

  Keia shifted her weight away. Her gaze fell to the grass at her feet. “I thought I was going to die.”

  Stern nodded and said, “Yet, here you are. The Other may have had his claws in Ulrich, but Aion has another purpose for you.”

  Keia gave a weak smile. Stern continued, “I’ve wanted to speak to you for years—since it happened, really. I want to thank you. I k
now it must have been very difficult, but you did the right thing.”

  She shook her head. “Two innocent people died.”

  Stroking his chin, Stern replied, “What is right is necessary at any cost. It was Aion’s will that they should die, cruel as it may seem. The cost of righteousness haunts those with good hearts; wickedness haunts not the hearts of evildoers. Such is the tragedy of heroism.”

  She grimaced. I’m no hero.

  “Truth be told,” she said, “I don’t even know what I did. One second, I was captured. The next—everyone was dead except for me, and I—I couldn’t use magic again for two years, and even now, it’s—it’s not like before. When I was younger.”

  “In your hour of greatest need, your power revealed itself,” Stern mused. “There is great strength in you, Keia—I pride myself on recognizing strength. Perhaps someday what was lost will return. Aion rewards those whose hearts are filled with love.” He paused. “Your love of magic is immutable, which is why you sit before me today, a magician like your father—despite what you lost.”

  She turned toward him, a fresh spark in her eyes. “You knew my father?”

  “I served by his side. A capable magician through and through. Always did his duty to his king and his country,” he said.

  Keia nodded as her gaze fell to the ground. What would her father have done? Turning away from her visitor, she stooped down to pluck a few blades of grass from beneath the bench. Opening her palm, she watched as they scattered on the breeze.

  Eyes shining with warmth, Stern leaned in and asked in a soothing voice, “If you’d like to talk about what’s plaguing you, Lady Atlos, I would gladly lend an ear.”

  “It’s exactly that,” she said, “my duties. One to my family, lost in Greerwood, and the other to my king. I can’t abandon the King’s Militia, but by staying, it feels like I’m abandoning the only family I have left.”

  “I don’t envy your choice.” Stern frowned. “Yet really, it is no choice at all. Some would tell you to follow your heart—but the hearts of humans are the instruments of the Other. No, there is nothing to be done except your duty to the king. Your oath must be held above all else.”