The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  The Scorpion Knight nodded. “You’re right.”

  Matalo was slurring his words as he went on, “Oh, you’re the god of details, Scipion. That’s why I have to keep you grounded. But me? I see the big picture. I’ve got it all figured out. All we need is you—and a big fucking army. Then we could take on the entire world if we wanted.”

  Scipion lowered his voice, and sternly said, “I hope you don’t plan to be drunk during the battle.”

  Matalo smiled. “No, of course not. I plan on being drunk before the battle, but I think I’ll sober up quickly.”

  “Matalo, as your friend—”

  Matalo held up a hand and gave a resigned nod. “I know. I’ll wait ’til it’s over, and we have Anton’s head. Besides”—he turned his wine bag upside down—“I have none left for now. So it’ll have to be spoils of war.”

  “Thank you,” Scipion said. “I would hate to have to use my commander voice.”

  Matalo chortled and said, “Oh, your commander voice? Now that I’ve never heard before.”

  “You will when we meet New Dawn. Until then, I think it’s time to mount our horses. Bottleneck Pass awaits, but Anton Day surely does not.”

  Chapter 36

  The Forest of Death

  Day 11 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  This is not a place for the living, Keia thought. The Ithera Plains were conquered at last, but Greerwood Forest loomed before her. Lifeless trees towered into the gray skies, foretelling woes to come. The forest seemed to extend on forever, falling into the shadows in the distance—and she shrank before it.

  “Apprehensive, are we?” Mar asked.

  Myrddin’s words rang through her. You can’t have courage without fear.

  Keia was more terrified than ever, but she had to press forward. There was no turning back.

  “We can take a rest if you wish. Clear your head before we get into the shite.”

  She nodded. “I could use something to eat.”

  Mar produced a bit of roasted meat and bread and split it into two portions.

  Keia gratefully accepted hers. As she ate, her mind wandered. “You were really talkative a few nights ago. Since then, not so much. Why?”

  He smiled. “If you’d like me to talk more—”

  Bobbing her head back and forth, she weighed his words. “As long as it’s helpful, I don’t mind.”

  “What else would you like to know?”

  She thought for a minute before asking her question. “Do you know what we might be facing here?”

  Mar glanced toward the forest—as he spoke, fear overtook his eyes. “Aye. I know it better than most—except your brother, maybe. There are many threats in Greerwood.”

  “No,” Keia said. “That’s not what I mean. You said the enemy was—targeting me. Right?”

  “I said something of the sort, yes.”

  The corner of her mouth pulled downward. “Do you think whatever’s trying to do this is—in Greerwood?”

  Mar sat back. “It’s likely. Myrddin’s working theory is that the Church of Ashuram is behind all of it. From your parents, to Devin, to Gladios—all of it.”

  “People always told me that Remy Crusoe was part of the church,” she said.

  As his eyes wandered to the forest, Mar replied, “He is. The last to be seen, too. Before that was Victor the Mad Surgeon, not ninety or so years earlier. But they’ll both be back. The church has ways of extending the lives of its members.”

  One of Keia’s hands rose to twirl her hair, but she fought the urge. “Do you—do you think it’s him?”

  “Who? Victor the Mad Surgeon?”

  “No. Remy Crusoe.” A shudder ran up her spine as soon as the name left her tongue.

  Mar frowned. “That, I’m afraid, I cannot answer. Dark secrets are not mine to tell.”

  Keia groaned and said, “That’s a yes. So much for no vague answers.”

  Mar shrugged. “On some matters, I am sworn to silence. Whether or not we meet Remy Crusoe on this journey—we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  A moment of silence fell over them as Keia built up the courage to ask her next question. It wasn’t the asking that was hard, but the answer she expected.

  “Do you think they’re alive?” Keia asked. “Honestly.”

  Mar’s mouth twitched. “If either of them is alive, it’d be Lady Aliya. She’s tough to find, much less beat. Carter—I knew Carter. He stopped by Northstead often. He was a good man, to be sure. He often spoke of you, and the past few times, he always mentioned that he held out hope to see you one last time.”

  Keia frowned.

  Before continuing, Mar asked, “Did he?”

  She gave a nod, sorrow weighing on her voice. “He did.”

  Mar stared into the distance. “Every time he stopped on his way back, I told him to retire. He wasn’t getting any younger, and these woods were changing. They’ve always been cursed, yes. But the past year—it’s been strange. I saw a fully grown frost wolf and her pups walking around the edge of Greerwood, straying into the plains. First time I’ve seen one in all my years.”

  “Something’s driving them out.”

  “Aye. And the bandits—whatever’s in there pushes everything away to let them through. It has to be connected, but I don’t see how.”

  Keia stood. “We’ll find out. Sure you don’t want to stop at Northstead? Might be your last chance to see your home.”

  Mar looked back at the Plains of Ithera and smiled. “This is my home.”

  She glared. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  With a wave of his hand, Mar said, “Oh, there’s no time. Northstead’s surely been overrun by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the base of bandit operations, with how long I’ve been gone.”

  Keia’s eyebrow rose. “Shouldn’t we do something about that?”

  He chuckled. “There’ll be time enough on the way back to deal with Northstead. For now, we should focus on your mission.”

  She nodded, returning her stare to Greerwood and the long journey ahead. No matter who stood in her way—nightmares come to life, Ashuram, even Remy Crusoe—no matter what, she’d push forward.

  Keia had never thought that she’d meet the man who murdered her parents. What would I even do if I did find him?

  They adorned their freeze suits and wrapped fur cloaks over their bodies. Heat spells warded off the cold, but Keia was terrible at casting them. She pulled the freeze mask over her face and adjusted the goggles.

  She said, “I feel like I look stupid.”

  Mar replied, “We both do. You ready?”

  Still adjusting everything, she snapped, “Oh, shut up. I’m getting there.”

  After a few deep breaths, Keia stepped into Greerwood. Mar followed. Immediately a ravenous cold fell over her. Even through multiple layers, the wind bit at her skin. Her fingers went numb within a few minutes, and her hands followed shortly after.

  Mar, sensing her discomfort, cast a heat spell. It was enough to make the journey tolerable for her, but he began to struggle. With each dead tree they passed, each gust of freezing wind, he slowed. Less than an hour in, he was grabbing at his head.

  Keia was lost in her thoughts. Lady Marienne had described the entity as a lost soul. Why it chose her, she did not know. The thought made Keia worry for Carter and Aliya. For all she knew, they could be dead in the snow.

  She shook her head. Aliya was smart and could deceive her predator, and Carter was too strong, too experienced to fall to anything in Greerwood. Still, she wondered why her family had been targeted after suffering so much already.

  So many questions and so few answers. I feel like I know less every day.

  Keia cast a portal and stepped through. She waited for Mar, but he never arrived. Upon going back through, her blood froze. Lord Mercer was
on his knees; he was holding his head so tightly that he looked likely to tear it straight off.

  Running to his aid, she shouted, “Mar? Mar! Are you all right?”

  Blood seeped from his nose, eyes, and ears, collecting at the bottom of his goggles and staining his freeze suit red. “You—you don’t feel that?”

  Grabbing his arms to keep him steady, she asked, “Feel what?”

  “My head,” he whispered. “It—it knows we’re here.”

  Keia’s heart skipped a beat. No.

  “Come on.” Keia lifted his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, now! Through the portal. We have to keep moving.”

  “No—leave me!” Mar said. “If this isn’t affecting you—”

  With a cold glare, she snapped at him, “We’re not having this discussion.”

  Keia walked through the portal, dragging Mar with her. His expression was pained and ever-changing. With every portal, his winces and grimaces grew worse.

  I don’t know how he’s going to make it. Her heart was pounding faster than ever. He’s getting worse. What the hell could be doing this?

  Tiring further with each desperate spell, Keia cast portal after portal to escape the entity. Mar’s headache only worsened. Traveling like this left no time to search for Aliya or Carter. There was little she could do; she had to get Mar to safety, no matter what.

  The snow-filled winds frenzied with every step; Keia wiped her goggles every few seconds. Without Mar’s heat spell, the cold became all-consuming. It seeped through her suit and chilled her to the bone. She looked down at Mar, whose eyes were sealed shut. Blood had coagulated and frozen all around his head. A shudder crawled up her torso as she wondered how the cold was affecting him.

  Eventually, night fell; the gray air gave way to the dancing shadows of tree branches from the moonlight. Mar’s state only worsened Keia’s distress. He was muttering incoherent nonsense to himself and giving names to trees.

  His arms weakly reached toward the treeline as he mumbled, “Elia—Elia—is that you?”

  This isn’t good. This definitely isn’t good. Keia was exhausted. She’d dragged Mar around all day and cast too many portals.

  “Leave—leave—me—” Mar begged. “Go. Please—it’s—the only way…”

  “Stop talking.” Keia surveyed their surroundings—not even a nook for either to sleep in.

  Damn.

  Her mouth twitching, she clenched her teeth and said, “Let’s keep moving.”

  After what felt like her thousandth portal, she collapsed, her vision encroached by shadows. She stumbled away and fell to her knees, nearly vomiting in her mask. Oh, that would’ve been gross. But it’s all right.

  Keia waited a few minutes before casting another round of portals, but she tired faster. After her third portal, she blacked out, falling to the ground next to Mar. Her eyes opened after a few seconds, covered in snow. She wiped her goggles and sat up.

  Mar was staring at the sky and breathing heavily. Blood was seeping from his ears, nose, and mouth.

  “Keia,” he said in what seemed a moment of clarity. “We need to stop. You won’t be of any help to anyone before long—not if we keep going like this.”

  Scanning the treeline for threats, she replied, “We can’t stop—not with this thing chasing us. Not with you getting worse.”

  Mar screamed in pain and writhed as another wave coursed through his body. Keia watched on helplessly. Fear stiffened every muscle in her body.

  This is fucked. Keia thought. This isn’t right. He needs help—more than I can give.

  She took a few deep breaths. I must have cast fifty portals today. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

  She raised Valiance and tried to cast a portal. At that moment, her body gave out. Keia’s legs buckled. Her vision went blank as darkness consumed her, filling her with the sensation of falling.

  Chapter 37

  The Outlaw’s Plea

  Day 12 of the Season of Aion

  Axl fidgeted as he and Myrddin walked through a large, decadent hall with velvet tapestries and decorative swords. They’d come to Mystik Bay in Vertan, less than a thousand miles from Genievon. A strange feeling had come over him when they’d arrived.

  So close, and yet so far. I wonder if I’ll ever see my home again.

  He shook his head, forcing the thought from his mind. They were being escorted by a young woman in a colorful robe. She walked slowly, giving Axl time to take his surroundings in—and overthink—as they made their way to the Guild Hall.

  Hopefully, they’re more receptive than the last guys.

  He and Myrddin were on something of a mini-tour of Mystik Bay, which was a hotspot for guilds and mercenary work. They’d already visited the other two major guilds—The Guild of Magic Masters and the Order of Mages—and were laughed out of the room and threatened with jail time. Hermann Krieger, the leader of the Order of Mages and a king’s man, was quite unhappy to see who his meeting was with and promptly ended it. Argale Westford, of the Guild of the Magic Masters, was more accommodating, but summarily refused their offer as well.

  Their last stop was to visit Pierre Montfrey, leader of the Spellcasters’ Guild. He was famed for his prowess and proven combat record—having served for over twenty years in Lord Jaqu Sylbian’s elite mage divisions—and was, by Myrddin’s estimation, the least likely to ally with them.

  The velvet hall opened into a massive courtyard hosting rows of trees. Without missing a step, the young lady continued to lead them further into the facility. Axl closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ever since he’d been freed, he always found time to enjoy the taste of fresh air. It was nothing like the Lockout or underground Genievon.

  Upon reaching the other side of the courtyard, they were greeted by a black-haired man with his hands behind his back. His posture was rigid, and his brown eyes were stern. His face was adorned with a large and well-groomed mustache, and he wore a black uniform evocative of a soldier. Behind him were three others, all with their wands at the ready.

  The leader stepped forward and said, “Greetings, Myrddin the Wizard and Axl Evander, the smuggler. My name is Pierre Montfrey. Welcome to the Spellcasters’ Guild Hall. I do hope we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  Myrddin nodded. “I do as well.”

  Pierre’s gaze was fixed on Myrddin. “Forgive the decorum and presence of my bodyguards, made necessary by your recent reputation. Ordinarily, I would dispense with the pleasantries with any potential client. That being said, you are not an ordinary potential client—and neither is your accomplice.”

  The wizard failed to hold back a smile. “It would seem that way.”

  Stroking his chin, Pierre said, “If the king caught word that I hosted you two and made no attempt to capture you, I’d be strung up on the Kingswall. But I suppose one doesn’t start a guild if they’re not willing to take risks, eh?”

  Lying, Myrddin replied, “I had a feeling you’d understand. I wouldn’t be reaching out unless it was of utmost importance.”

  “Of course not. Knowing that was what made me decide to meet with you at all. I must say before we delve into business—I expected it from many, but not from you.”

  The wizard’s voice was heavy as he said, “Believe me when I say that my decision was not easy. Were there any other way, I would have taken it. But the king is not who he used to be.”

  Pierre’s iron gaze pierced the wizard. Axl was unnerved by the intensity of his stare. “And yet, do we, as his subjects, not take an oath to obey him—no matter who he is? Who he becomes?”

  Myrddin remained silent.

  Pierre maintained his serious expression for a moment before relenting. He stifled a chuckle. “Don’t worry; I don’t intend to get into politics. Truth be told, I’m glad to be out of the military—instead of following orders, I can focus on work that matter
s to me.”

  Axl gave a half-smile, but he was still uneasy.

  Myrddin said, “I suppose, then, that we should get to business.”

  Pierre gave a single, slight nod. “Yes, I’ve said what I needed to say. And now, business. What proposition have you risked your life to bring me?”

  “A simple one: I represent a group that believes Lady Rhiannon will be returning to the world and will need support in facing her enemies,” the wizard began.

  “Inheritance Order. I believe I was approached by your order some time ago.”

  “You were. I was hoping that you might have a different answer today.”

  Pierre waved this aside. “Come now; we haven’t even discussed the finer details. We’ll get to answers once we have the right questions. Is Lady Rhiannon currently active?”

  “Yes. The Order has ascertained her identity.”

  Pierre gave a slow nod as he stroked his chin. “I see. Mind sharing it with me?”

  “You may not know the name—Keia Atlos.”

  “Oh, I know the name.”

  Axl’s eyes narrowed. How does he know who she is?

  “Of course. She killed Ulrich after he assassinated the Lord of Vordenheim—six years ago, was it? Seven? It matters little. I was reminded of it when news came out that she’d tucked tail and left the kingdom,” Pierre said.

  Myrddin nodded. “Yes, that’s her. Much of her life aligns with Rhiannon’s Prophecy.”

  “Prophecy is an unreliable mistress, wizard. Very well, then. You and the Order have made your determination. When will she require our services?”

  Myrddin cringed. Axl’s shoulders slumped. Ah, shite. Here we go.

  The wizard replied, “I am currently not sure of the timeframe. My belief is that it will be no longer than three years. Recent events may accelerate her departure from the kingdom, but I believe that she will try to return.”

  “Recent events—you mean being branded as a traitor?”

  “Yes, precisely.”

  Pierre’s gaze again measured Myrddin as he asked, “You really think she’ll try to go back?”