The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gaheris snapped. ‘What did the note say?’

  ‘I have no idea. She says she can’t read.’

  Damn foreigners. I learned the common language.

  Gaheris said, ‘Then that is exactly what you must find out. Keep monitoring Jisaazu. Check in with me every day.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Ervane responded. The reach ended.

  Gaheris didn’t trust Jisaazu, and now he had a reason—she was hiding something. This note should have been surrendered as evidence, not kept as a token. Keia’s words mattered. Whether she was going to save her brother and sister or join up with Myrddin, she had to be silenced.

  Gaheris’s thoughts turned to Myrddin. A manhunt across every province in the kingdom was underway, but there was still no sign of the wizard. The longer Myrddin remained at large, the greater the chance of Gaheris’s head rolling. He was taking far too many risks. Truth be told, he didn’t even know what he was up against.

  —

  Less than a week into their travels, Jisaazu’s agitation with Ervane reluctantly gave way to tolerance. For the most part, he ceased to question her.

  Ervane quickly learned that no joke entertained her. Instead, he told stories and legends from history. She divulged lessons learned from ancient orders of monks, stories of famous swordsmen, and tales of her escape from the Black Heart’s armies.

  One morning, before they set off, Jisaazu spotted a group of people in the distance.

  Pointing, she asked, “Did the king send anyone else after Keia?”

  Ervane approached and stared at the approaching men. “Keep an eye out. Could be common thieves or bandits. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re just traders, but it’s best to stay on guard.”

  Jisaazu counted ten men as they drew closer. Each had scraggly hair and stained skin, and he wore cheap leather armor. It was clear that they had no intention of trading. Their eyes fell on Jisaazu, but she was undeterred. Within a matter of minutes, they were only thirty feet away.

  “You there, girl!” shouted a man missing his eye. “You want to come with us?”

  “We’ll treat you nice!” another exclaimed to laughter in the group.

  “Stay back,” Ervane said.

  “You stay back!” Jisaazu pushed Ervane aside and drew her sword. “I’ll kill them all myself.”

  The bandits chatted amongst themselves. The first one loudly asked, “Are they kingdom?”

  “I think they are!”

  “Death to the kingdom! Death to Symon!”

  They shouted and drew their weapons—blunt axes, spears, hammers, and a few rusty swords. Jisaazu drew the Jaaza Greatsword while Ervane readied his swords. The ten charged.

  Ervane said, “We should coordinate.”

  “No.”

  Jisaazu leaped with the Jaaza Greatsword raised and struck a bandit. Her blade sliced through his leather armor and him with it, cleaving straight through his spine. He fell while the others looked on in horror. Two dropped their weapons and ran.

  Ervane launched a bolt of pure light from one of his blades, too fast for the human eye to track. Instantly, it burned a hole in one bandit’s chest.

  Jisaazu’s blade clashed against a war ax; this man had more success deflecting her attacks but was unpolished.

  A spear thrust flew at her face.

  She ducked and grabbed the haft as it passed, and with one motion, she swept the ax-wielder’s legs and snapped the spear on her shoulder. Then, she slashed at the fallen foe’s throat, silencing him. The spearman discarded his broken weapon and fled to his trembling comrades.

  Ervane lodged an ice shard into a bandit’s guts, leaving only three more enemies for Jisaazu. They rushed her but were unable to land a hit; she was far too nimble. Keeping her sword in front of her, she parried, blocked, or dodged every incoming attack.

  Jisaazu saw an opening. With a mighty growl, she swung and knocked their weapons away, stunning her undisciplined foes. Then she swung in a full horizontal circle, beheading the three of them in one stroke.

  Only a single bandit was still alive—barely. A shard of ice was lodged in his stomach. Ervane knelt by his side. They had to extract as much information as possible.

  “What were you doing so far south?” he demanded.

  The bandit whimpered. “I was just, following orders, uh, sir,” he choked out between pained, exasperated wheezes. His lung seemed to be punctured. Ervane leaned in to hear the labored words.

  “Who gave you these orders?”

  “General—Renshaw—and Nialarix, and—the Other. The Other—he sent us.”

  “The Other? What Other?”

  The man coughed up blood. It was no use pushing him.

  “I don’t—know,” the bandit said, “but you’re both—fucked. Some of ours got away. Once they get back to the general, he’ll—urgh—” he gasped in pain but carried on, “he’ll send everyone. These plains—they’ll be swarming…”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “The house—the house—unseen...” The bandit thus spoke his last words. Ervane buried one of his blades in the man’s heart. He turned to face Jisaazu.

  “We must follow the ones that ran. We don’t want them telling their leader what happened here.”

  Jisaazu shook her head. “No. We have a mission. Chasing bandits and interfering with their delusions of grandeur isn’t part of it.”

  “What if they were telling the truth? There’d be an enemy army already in the kingdom—small and undisciplined, but an army nonetheless.”

  “Can’t you just let them know with magic?” Jisaazu crossed her arms. “Even if it is true—why should we get involved now? I’m good with a sword, but I can’t take an army alone.”

  She groaned. God, I sound like Sir Kaine.

  Ervane’s mouth curled into a half-frown. “Very well. Yes, we’ll stay on the mission, then.”

  Jisaazu stared at the horizon. “Keia’s probably not traveling on foot. Is there any way you can get us moving faster by waving a wand?”

  “I can’t travel as fast as Keia with her portals, but I have a method better than walking. We’ll reach Greerwood before those bandits reach their general.”

  He pointed his sword at the ground as it glowed. With a simple motion, he tore a chunk of earth out and kept it hovering. Ervane stepped on.

  Patting the floating ground, he said, “Hop on!”

  Jisaazu’s eyes shifted nervously. She didn’t trust magic, and she trusted flying even less.

  Ervane rolled his eyes and said, “If you want to walk, we can walk. It’ll take at least a month to reach Greerwood. By then, we’ll have a bandit army standing in the way of our mission.”

  Jisaazu slowly climbed onto the rock—despite her reservations, Ervane was right. She gripped the edges as Ervane gently floated northward. The further they ascended, the more Jisaazu whimpered.

  “Do not like. Do not like. Do not like,” she chanted, rocking back and forth with her eyes closed.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

  “Shut up!” Jisaazu shouted, turning bright red. She hated appearing weak. Instead of tormenting her, Ervane mercifully floated the rock closer to the ground. They traveled in silence for several minutes.

  Suddenly, Ervane broke it. “Spiders.”

  “What?” Jisaazu asked.

  “That’s my biggest fear.” Ervane turned to her. “I discovered yours; so, it’s only fair you know mine.”

  Jisaazu’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “Why spiders?”

  Spiders were harmless—falls from great heights were not.

  “They’re just—disgusting,” Ervane said. “I can’t even think when I see one. A full-blown paladin in the King’s Militia, afraid of something I can step on. Can you imagine?”

  Unsure of how
to respond, she remained silent.

  Why the hell is he telling me all this?

  “I used to have dreams about this giant spider when I was younger—I’d be in my parents’ old home, out near Westfallen. All kinds of nooks and crannies to hide in, big plot of land, all that. Well, the damn thing would always find me. I’d always see myself in its eyes as those horrible legs dragged me out of whatever crevice I’d sealed myself away in. Then, just before closing its jaws on my head, I’d—I’d always wake up.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Everybody’s afraid of something,” Ervane responded. “Life has a funny way of bringing the very thing we thought we could never confront right to our doorstep. At that moment, we all have to step up.”

  Jisaazu shuddered; bandits, beasts, and mages could be felled with the Jaaza Greatsword, but heights couldn’t be defeated with swordplay. Training wouldn’t help. With a sword in her hands, she had control. But one slip from this height…

  “Did you ever face your fear of spiders?”

  He smiled. “No. Never have.”

  They fell into a quiet lull for another hour or so.

  Again, Ervane broke the silence. “I just can’t stop wondering why they were so far south. Bandits usually stay north of Greerwood. I always thought they didn’t have the resources to traverse the Winter Forest. It seems I’m wrong, eh?”

  “It makes sense,” Jisaazu pointed out. “They had orders—and they were looking for someone.”

  “They didn’t have gear for winter or climbing. That means no going through Greerwood or crossing the Koaion Mountains.”

  “Perhaps they abandoned it—or someone took them over the forest in one of your floating ships,” she said.

  “Or they were helped. Typically, they’d cross Koaion, look for easy raiding targets near Westfallen, and break for home. This is different. This is—an invasion.”

  “Nothing’s typical about times like these,” Jisaazu said. Greerwood loomed in the distance. The Jaaza Greatsword pulsed in anticipation.

  Chapter 35

  The Scorpion’s Tail

  Day 11 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  Scipion strained to make out the squabbling voices during the nightly war council. They’d set up camp after another day’s march brought them closer to Bottleneck Pass. Following such a long day, Scipion had trouble keeping everyone in the room straight.

  Everyone was crowded around an old, ink-pressed map made of ripped parchment. Wooden figures of different shapes and sizes represented units of their army, civilians, and their enemy.

  Scipion stared at Anton Day, or at least, the figurine meant to represent him on the map—a black knight in foul armor atop a bucking horse.

  Soon, I will face him. Either he or I will die.

  Zel Daved pointed to a town north of the river, near the Madros River’s southern channel. “Old Maidia. Anton may plan to regroup there and wait for Julius.”

  “I doubt it,” Douglas said with a shake of his head. “They have a city watch that isn’t too friendly to New Dawn. Balthazar Ndeba, their governor, lost a son to them. Besides, Anton made it clear when he captured us that his priority is getting to Grythos with his harvest.”

  Echo said, “He hasn’t targeted any of the larger villages. He’s only been attacking those small enough to be overwhelmed easily. My scouts’ last report of his whereabouts indicates that we are farther south than him.”

  “If we are farther south, we could meet him before the River Leiesna,” Matalo said. “We could save those few that are currently south of us.”

  “One more day’s march with my mages, and we’d be exactly where we wanted to be,” Mathieu interjected. “Why should we abandon that strategy now? A fair warning was sent to those villages. Most evacuated.”

  Scipion wondered what Anton wanted him to do and resolved to do the opposite. He snapped to attention upon hearing his name.

  “What do you think, Scipion?” Zel Ilear asked. The others stared expectantly.

  “We must stay the course,” Scipion said. “Echo, did he attack these settlements?” He pointed to a cluster of small villages just north of their position.

  Echo replied, “No, my scouts reported that those were not attacked, small though they might be.”

  Scipion nodded. “I think he understands that he can’t bait us out; so, he’s not going to waste any time. He’s going to try to beat us to Bottleneck Pass. If he does, we’ve failed.”

  “With regards to the battle, what do you think we should do?” Zel Yano asked. “I think we should find a hill and let them try to climb it. They’ll have better numbers.”

  Scipion thought for a moment. The entire room fell silent, and everyone leaned in to better hear their commander. All eyes were trained on Scipion. This was the entire reason for their arduous march, after all.

  “We have superior cavalry to mitigate theirs. Zel Ilear, you’ll charge his cavalry and drive them from the field so we can press our advantage. Expect trickery—stay between our flanks and their horses. Douglas, you’re from this area. Can you describe the terrain at Bottleneck Pass?”

  “River Leiesna is lined with light forest on the northern side,” Douglas dutifully answered, “and the Grythan Highlands to the south. The pass itself lies between Leiesna and the southern channel of the Madros River, on Alnatria’s Rolling Plains; so, it’s mostly flatlands—no hills, I’m afraid.”

  Scipion nodded. “That’s perfect. Mathieu, you and the other mages will hide out in the forest and pelt them with spellfire as they charge. Zel Ilear, once you’ve cleared their cavalry, you’ll come back around to surround them. If we get there with enough time, we can set up a defensive formation to hold them in place until you arrive with the killing blow.”

  Zel Ilear nodded. “Understood.”

  Mathieu Tyronus added, “I like it. They’ll be in the open, exactly where we want them. My mages will not disappoint.”

  “I look forward to seeing them in action,” Scipion said. “Now, Echo, you told me something interesting with the last scouting report, did you not?”

  “About what?” Echo asked.

  “Their food supplies.”

  “Ah, yes. Most of their food supply, believe it or not, is from the ground,” Echo said excitedly. “They don’t have many spellstones to go around—nowhere near enough for more than a few days’ worth for an army their size.”

  Scipion smiled. “If we get between them and New Maidia, we can starve them out. There won’t be any fields nearby to raid, and they will be within our sight if they try to escape. They’ll have no choice but to come to us if we own the pass—especially if they try to beat us there and make a mad dash.”

  “It sounds like a good plan,” Matalo replied. “I think we could beat them straight up.”

  “I do, too,” Zel Daved added, “but there’s no point in throwing the lives of our soldiers away unless we absolutely have to. I like it.”

  “We’ll leave a small opening in our fortification to act as a funnel,” Scipion continued. “That should help mitigate their numbers. I’m sure their lighter infantry will make it to us faster, and they won’t fare well against trained Valkhars in full armor. We’ll have every archer stationed on the wings to keep them going in the funnel. If we have time, we could even dig a light moat to get their feet wet and slow their general pace.”

  Matalo smiled as Scipion explained his plan. That was exactly what Scipion would be famous for if he lived long enough: he always found a way to isolate his strengths and his opponent’s weaknesses and match them against each other. His friend looked tired and almost ragged from long hours discussing enemy positions with Echo, working with each of the commanders to best determine how their soldiers might be used, and poring over maps and books.

  “Do we have any questions?” Scipion asked. Nobody raised a hand or spoke.
“Excellent. I’ll be meeting with each of you as we move to Bottleneck Pass so that we can discuss your role in the coming battle with greater detail. Until then, let’s get the soldiers marching.”

  As they left the commander’s tent, whispers erupted between them. Douglas asked Zel Yano, “Do you think it will work?”

  The seasoned Valkhar replied, “Of course I do. One fully armored Valkhar is worth a hundred of their lot. They don’t stand a chance.”

  Douglas said, “It’s the smartest of New Dawn, Anton Day, against the smartest of the Oathsworn. I doubt Anton will have any surprises up his sleeve that we can’t handle.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Zel Yano said as he stepped outside the tent. Their voices trailed off. Matalo was the only one who stayed.

  After a hearty swig from his flask, Matalo asked, “I’m not going to lie; I was a bit skeptical at first—but I have to admit, you may have proved me wrong. It seems Anton cares more about his Nertha than killing commoners.”

  “That’s what I gambled on,” Scipion agreed. “He knows we are trying to block him off. It’s a race now. Everything depends on us beating him to that point.”

  “Establish King Logan’s supremacy in the region,” Matalo mused, “and then, people will flock to us. Hopefully, at least.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Scipion replied. “Though they will flock to us in even greater numbers when we defeat Yfrayne Black Heart.”

  “If we even can.”

  “I’m sure we will be able to. If these mages are half as powerful as Mathieu says, we may well not need any other soldiers,” Scipion joked. “Besides, once we regroup with King Logan, we will have a better sense of what he plans to do.”

  Shaking his head, Matalo said, “You’re thinking too far ahead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  In a quiet voice, his friend answered, “You’re already planning our reunion with the king. You need to slow down, Scipion. Don’t look past Anton Day. That’s how we got captured the first time, remember?”