The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  “M-my king!” Gaheris stuttered in protest. “What of the girl’s family?”

  The king slammed his fist on his throne. “They’re all dead! They knew their fates going into Greerwood alone. What does it matter? I gave you an order!”

  “What should I say if her friends come looking for her? Her division?”

  Symon’s face darkened. “She expired from her wounds. Perhaps they were worse than they appeared from the stands. I didn’t think you even liked this girl, Gaheris.”

  The king’s gaze pierced Gaheris. After a tense moment of silence, the king said, “If our actions are ever discovered—no. Just see to it that never happens. For your sake, especially—if people hear about this, I’ll have your skin peeled off in inches. They can’t do anything to me—but you? I’ll throw you to them. And they’ll punish you for my crimes, too.”

  Gaheris swallowed. “Yes, my king. The people will never know. I will take measures to see to that.”

  “That bastard almost did us a favor by taking the spellbook. At least we can put the blame on his shoulders. Can you fix the laws from memory?”

  Gaheris gulped. “I-I’m afraid not. I was only able to alter them when I had the spellbook, my king.”

  “DAMN HIM!” Symon’s fist pounded his throne’s armrest. “I want him found, Gaheris. No matter what the cost, I want him found. He has to pay for this—or we will. Is that clear?”

  Gaheris nodded weakly.

  “Good. Now, leave me.” Symon’s face looked pained with anger. Gaheris took his leave, disturbed. Keia had been right—how the hell had she known? Something was off about her that day...

  Second thoughts, perhaps? She had something to do with this. She had to have. How else could she have known? A criminal like her…

  Gaheris set out immediately to find the girl.

  Chapter 29

  The Exile

  Day 7 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  A small island’s pristine calm was interrupted by a portal. The waves rolled over white sands, stretching toward a loose forest some thirty feet off with each attempt. The trees were so tall that they had to lean, and their pointed leaves were colored a vibrant green. A gentle breeze carried the sea’s salty air across the entire island, weaving its way through the Nothron Isles.

  Myrddin and Axl emerged from the portal, stepping through while deep in conversation.

  The wizard said, “The company that we will find here will be most unpleasant. Keep a hand near your wand in case things go south.”

  Axl’s eyes rolled. “You mean, further south than they usually do?”

  “Yes, precisely. Come now—it’s a bit of a walk from here. I want us to be loose.”

  Axl frowned. For all of Myrddin’s campaigning, not a single ally had been won. He expected no different here. At least the old man was more talkative of late; Axl preferred being in the loop.

  “So,” Axl began, “who the hell is this guy, anyway?”

  The wizard stroked his beard. “He’s—well, there’s no other way to describe it. He’s among the worst of the worst, if I’m being honest.”

  “Is he worse than the Nertha runners, or the religious freaks—or even me?”

  The wizard shifted. “The man we’re going to meet is very dangerous indeed—and for several reasons. You may recognize the name: Deric Halcion.”

  Axl’s mouth curled into a crooked smile. “Oh, I know the name—formerly Lord Deric of oh-so-great House Halcion, right? The masters of Opanira?”

  “You happen to have made your way south to Opanira in your travels, haven’t you?”

  Axl’s smile faded. He met Arden Prost in Opanira, and many of his arcanists came from that province.

  Now they’re all dead—and for no good reason. Because of me—my selfishness.

  His heart heavy, he said, “I did. I went there to gather soldiers. And then I used them like pawns. I—I knew they would die, the stone—it told me.”

  “That stone has strange properties, indeed. I believe that you may have been influenced—but yes, your choices were still your own. You—like myself—have much to atone for, and not much time. Do not dwell on what cannot be changed. Only the future matters now,” Myrddin said.

  Axl nodded and changed the subject. “I heard that Deric attacked his own brother. Locke had to banish him after that, but I’ve always wondered why he did it. Is there something wrong with him?”

  “There are many foul aspects to the leader of the Bloodsteel Brothers, though he isn’t insane, if that’s what you mean. No, he’s in his right mind—it’s just that his right mind isn’t—right. Does that make sense?”

  Shaking his head, Axl said, “Not really, no—not even a little bit. Why did he attack his brother, though?”

  Myrddin’s eyes grew distant as he thought of how to condense his story. He began, “Deric is—hateful. A trait inherited, no doubt, from his father, Rybard.”

  “He attacked his brother because he’s hateful?”

  The wizard’s eyes drifted toward the horizon as he searched for the right words. “No, not quite—see, his hatred is learned. Rybard taught Deric to intensely mistrust anyone outside Opanira; they dislike foreigners, to put it mildly. And when his brother decided to marry someone from Vertan—an outsider—instead of one of the women from the old clans…”

  Axl frowned. “Ah.”

  “Yes. That led to Deric’s attack. Locke fended him off with Ash, their family’s ancestral blade, and the man who put his homeland above all else was banished, forbidden to ever return.”

  “This guy sounds like a real winner,” Axl said.

  A deep sigh escaped Myrddin’s lips. “As I said, the worst of the worst. I think it unlikely that he allies with the Order. I’m hoping his time away from Opanira has softened his spirit a bit. Perhaps now that he’s seen more of the world, he’ll be more open to what we have to say.”

  “What did you say the name of his band of mercs was, again?”

  “Yes, the Bloodsteel Brothers. Just as I believe it unlikely that he allies with the Order, I find it unlikely that he’s changed. But that’s what we must determine for ourselves; the Order must leave no stone unturned.”

  They came over the crest of a small hill, and the entire island opened up before them. In the center was an enormous building, easily large enough to house a small army. The walls were made of stone, and there were no windows. Armored men fought each other in fenced areas around the exterior, and a massive red cloth banner hung over the main entrance. The banner depicted a two-headed drake with the necks intertwined, with a blade and several ingots of different colored metals in the background.

  Myrddin turned and said, “Expect no courtesy, and keep an eye on me. If we need to make a quick getaway, I’ll cast a portal.”

  They came to the front entrance that was guarded by two armored men sharing a laugh. The iron they wore was gritty and stained, and blades hung at their waist. Myrddin hailed their visitors.

  The first to notice them drew his sword and shouted, “Who goes there?”

  The other followed suit. Myrddin calmly raised his empty hands as he and Axl kept their approach steady.

  “We seek an audience with your leader,” the wizard replied.

  The first guard chuckled and sheathed his blade. “All right, then. Hope you’ve got a good one for us. Been too long since they’ve taken me along.”

  The guard rapped sharply on the door, and a loud hiss came as it opened. The guard turned back and said, “Lord Deric’s enjoying the spoils of our last mission right now. He’ll be in the back. Keep an eye out; the boys are rowdy when they’ve been home for too long.”

  Axl nodded and followed Myrddin. The building was darkened, lit only by flashing strobes emitted by spellstones. The main room was filled with tables, and at each were mercenaries drinking, fighting, or laughing. Th
e noise quieted significantly upon the arrival of their guests.

  Myrddin frowned as they shouldered their way through the crowd. Seemingly every merc in the room had their eyes trained on the wizard and the outlaw. None made a move.

  There must be thousands of people in here. Let’s hope this doesn’t go sideways, Axl thought.

  The wizard whispered, “As I said—Deric is mistrustful of outsiders. So, too, are his followers.”

  In the very back, at a large leather booth before a lowered table, sat their quarry. He was broad of shoulder and had his legs casually stretched out, his eyes locked on Myrddin and Axl. He wore only a loose cotton shirt, brown slacks, leather shoes, and an ornamental necklace with a metal miniature of the twin-headed drake. His short, miscut hair was brown, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Under one of his eyes, he had tattooed a single black line. On the table before him was an assortment of exotic drugs.

  A thick Magnus accent drowned out the room as Deric said, “Oi! Myrddin the Wizard, as I live and breathe!”

  As they came to a stop some five feet from his table, Myrddin greeted him in return. “Deric Halcion.”

  “Tell me, wizard.” Deric smiled. “How does it feel to be on my side of the fence, now? The kingmaker and unmaker in exile.”

  Myrddin flinched. “How did you find that out all the way up here?”

  The exile spread his arms and smiled, “What can I say? News reaches far these days. Especially when you’re as famous as you. How’s life treating you on the other side, eh?”

  “It’s been difficult to leave the kingdom behind.”

  Deric nodded. “Of course. I miss my home too. The shores, the hills, the breeze—nowhere else like it in the world. But that’s all in the past now. Tell me, wizard, who’s the malcontent?”

  “This is Axl Evander, a—”

  Deric raised his hand to silence Myrddin. “I know who he is.” Addressing Axl directly, he continued, “You tried to rob the king—takes balls, you know. You’re a real killer. What are you doing here with this old failure?”

  Before Myrddin could intervene, Axl replied, “I’m here to make sure nothing happens.”

  A harsh chuckle erupted from Deric. “Is that so? Wizard’s got you on a leash, eh? You’re just a bodyguard? How the mighty fall. Aye, from one real killer to another—I could use someone like you. You used to be a leader, not some lap dog; be a leader again.”

  Axl did not respond; he wasn’t here to satiate his own ego.

  “So,” Deric lit an expensive-looking cigar with a glowing red stone. After a few puffs to fully ignite the tobacco, he continued, “Business—that’s what you came here for, right? Not for all this fucking small talk, I hope.”

  Myrddin took a step forward and said, “Yes. We have a business proposition for you.”

  “A job! What kind of fucking job could you have, eh? Where could you possibly want to take us?”

  The wizard replied, “Nowhere, for now. The job pays handsomely and requires you to be on standby for some time. How much time, I do not know. Perhaps the day will never come when your services are required—in which case, you will walk away a richer man.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Deric leaned forward. “You want to pay me now, and at some point in the future, maybe—you snap your fucking fingers, and I have to be there? Like your little fucking lap dog, eh? Like this one?”

  Myrddin pressed on. “I am willing to pay you now. I can turn your scrap metal into something more valuable, if you’d like.”

  Deric cringed. “I don’t know if you know this, wizard,” he began, “but these boys of mine, they’re rough. They like bringing home all sorts of prizes—going out there and fucking people up. They don’t like sitting here, waiting for orders from some old man. We are the Bloodsteel Brothers, not the take-your-fucking-time brothers. We need some meat to sink our teeth into. You could turn all the dirt on this island into gold, and unless you could make it bleed, cry, or beg, they wouldn’t give a rat’s shite. Right? You see what kind of crew this is?”

  “This job does involve quite a bit of fighting, really. There will be a war—”

  “Oh, will there be? And who are we fighting for?”

  “Lady Rhiannon,” Myrddin declared.

  Deric’s expression remained exactly the same for a second. Then he cocked his head back and laughed for a minute straight, holding his belly and slapping his knee as if the wizard had just invented comedy. All his mercs joined in, slowly at first, until a cacophony of vile laughter rang out all around the wizard and the smuggler.

  Deric, his expression now rabid and hateful, raised his hand. The laughter died out immediately. Silence overtook the hall’s stale air in an instant. Several mercs stood and began to creep toward their guests.

  “You really think we’re gonna take orders from some fucking girl?” Deric asked.

  “She’s exceptional—”

  “I don’t care what the fuck she is—she’s a girl. Girls aren’t leaders.”

  Axl’s hand edged toward his wand. His anger was back. He looked over his shoulder—twenty or so mercenaries were blocking their exit, hands on their blades. Axl turned his attention to Deric.

  One spell—one spell is all it would take. I’ll melt his fucking brain in an instant.

  Sneering, Deric spat, “So, there you have it, eh? A big fat nope for you. Fuck off, wizard, and take your little lap dog with you.”

  Myrddin’s face expressed frustration. Deric was a lost cause, and they both knew it. He and Axl shared a glance. The wizard gave a nod, also aware of Deric’s mercenaries.

  “But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” Deric leaned forward, suddenly very interested. “What kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t make some sort of counter-offer, eh?”

  The mercs were closing in, slowly drawing their swords to avoid alerting their prey. Axl’s claustrophobia kicked in. He hated being surrounded.

  Deric continued, “You really fucked up, wizard—the king wants you bad. I mean, if someone were to bring him your head, he’d get whatever he wanted, right?”

  Axl drew his wand. There wasn’t any point in waiting. He turned as the mercenaries completed encircling them.

  Deric said, “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be me who gets it. The wizard,”—he tried to gesture subtly to his men—“is our ticket home, boys! GRAB HIM!”

  Axl was ready to fight to the death. He aimed a vicious fire spell at a cluster of three enemies, but it stayed on the tip of his wand. The mercs’ attack never came; their movements slowed to a crawl as a fierce glow emulated from Myrddin’s wand.

  Axl growled, then cut off his spell. The old man had it under control—there was no need to get crazy.

  Myrddin sighed and cast a portal beneath the two of them. They fell safely to where they had arrived on the island, hearing only Deric’s raspy, hate-filled scream, “No!” before the portal closed.

  After a few deep breaths, Axl said, “You need to rest? I could start a fire so that we could sit for a while.”

  Myrddin shook his head. “No, we’re on the Order’s time. We need to keep going.”

  Axl jokingly saluted and said, “Following you.”

  The wizard studied him for a moment before sighing.

  “What?”

  “I’m surprised that you didn’t cast that spell,” Myrddin said.

  “Did you want me to or something?”

  The wizard chuckled. “Let’s just say Deric isn’t an endearing person. I’d not have missed him. That being said, I’m glad that you controlled your anger.”

  Axl shrugged and stared off into the distance. “I wouldn’t make a habit of expecting it.”

  “No, I don’t intend to. Come on, then; there are other bastards to rile up.”

  Chapter 30

  Exodus

  Day 7 of the Season of Life,
1020 YAR

  Keia snapped awake in a medic bay, her chest heaving. She blinked at the ceiling, trying to clear away the images of death and smoke still clouding her mind. After a few moments, she realized where she was.

  What the fuck happened?

  She sat up as pain jolted through her head. Blurred memories returned with force as her temples pounded in agonizing rhythm. Upon turning, she saw several other beds in the room, most of which were covered with bloody blankets. One of the blankets, covering a smaller mass, lightly moved up and down.

  Keia rubbed her eyes. She was the only one awake. The kingdom was attacked; she was attacked.

  Keia nodded, took a deep breath, and took stock of the situation.

  Someone used those people to attack during my match. My opponent was clearly meant to kill me. It was just like—the vision. I only told one person about the vision.

  A chill ran up the back of her neck. “Gaheris.”

  She leaned back, resting against the pillow. There’s no way the king would let him do anything to me, right? I mean, Gaheris didn’t even tell him. So there’s no way…

  Keia yelped, disturbed from her reverie by shadows forming just outside the glass pane on the door. Voices came into focus.

  “By orders of Gaheris, the king’s adviser.”

  “I can’t let you through. She’s most likely asleep, and she needs it, too—poor thing’s in bad shape.”

  “The investigation requires that he speak to her.”

  “It could be detrimental to the patient’s health to—”

  “I have orders—by any means necessary. If you continue to stand in my way, you’ll disappear, too.”

  Keia’s heart sank into her stomach. That was all she needed to hear. Nope. Fuck that.

  Keia rolled out of her bed and used the frame to support herself as she stood. Every movement brought more pain, but after a few haphazard steps, she could walk unsupported. She grabbed Valiance from atop a small table next to the medic cot.