The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  A few hours later, Ervane broke the silence. “So, what do you know about Greerwood Forest?” He lacked his usual enthusiasm.

  “Only that it’s cold and unfriendly.”

  Ervane frowned, his eyes aglow with frustration. “You probably never think about the kingdom, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Wincing as he struggled to find the words, he said, “In the—I don’t know, the political sense, I guess. All the bureaucracy, the secrecy—I mean, it’s my kingdom regardless, but sometimes it still troubles me. It’s not the kingdom my father told me about—the one I used to know.”

  Jisaazu shrugged. “It seems fine.”

  A deep sigh escaped his lips. “You spent your whole life traveling. You don’t really have a national identity. I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if the kingdom is still about the people. It used to represent everyone, but now—now, it just doesn’t feel that way.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  His eyes shifted, as if weighing what he wanted to say. Then he said quietly, “It’s just been a crazy past few weeks. I mean, after Gladios…”

  “Gladios was unforgivable,” Jisaazu said. “Whoever did it must be punished.”

  “It’s not that. For years, Symon expanded the kingdom, and then he stops. Suddenly, there’s nothing left to conquer. He’s won every civil war, grabbed every piece of land he can. Then things begin to stagnate. The money goes to building new wings of the palace or foreign merchants, but so little goes to everyone else, especially outside the cities.”

  “That’s normal,” Jisaazu said authoritatively. “Peasants live terribly, no matter where you go.”

  “It’s not that.” Ervane grimaced, failing to get his point across. “I just feel as though the kingdom is more about the king than anything else. That’s not how Symon originally ruled. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe the stories are wrong, and it’s always been like this. I don’t know.”

  “People change,” Jisaazu said, confused by Ervane’s diatribe. “Especially over that much time. What is this really about?”

  Ervane tensed up. His eyes darted about as if he were contemplating whether or not he could tell her a secret. Then, his shoulders slackened as a deep, resigned sigh left his body.

  “Truth be told,” Ervane said quietly, “I’m just a little worried. I hear Greerwood Forest is dangerous, and I have a bad feeling about what we might encounter.”

  “I don’t,” Jisaazu said. “You can hide behind me if you want. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Oh, ha ha,” Ervane responded. “Very funny. No, whatever’s waiting for us, I’m sure we can handle it.”

  Less than an hour later, a dark gray mass appeared on the horizon. Jisaazu pointed and asked, “What is that?”

  “That,” Ervane replied, “is Greerwood. Still about a day’s travel out, but we’re getting close.”

  The forest drew nearer with every passing minute. The sky changed colors where Greerwood began, morphing from a pleasant and welcoming blue into an ominous gray specter—as if the forest’s death had spread like a sickness to the sky.

  Even from this distance, Greerwood haunted Jisaazu, chilling her blood. The Jaaza Greatsword pulsated, reassuring the swordswoman. Her worry gave way to anticipation as Greerwood beckoned—as well as whatever may be waiting within.

  Chapter 41

  The Companion

  Day 12 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  Keia kept casting portals until she collapsed once more, trying to run away from her nightmare. The tears forming in her eyes froze immediately.

  It’s all my fault. Because he was looking for me, Mar—it’s all my fault.

  She had witnessed the figure stepping out of the trees, his shadow taking form. She felt it, even; his presence was like gravity, as if the nature of his power oppressed everything around him. He was looking for her. Because of that, Mar was surely dead.

  A bitter frown stretched across her lips. He’ll pay for that. Mar—he was a good man. And it—it won’t be for nothing; I won’t let it be. I have to keep going.

  After clenching her fist and closing her eyes, Keia considered her path. I’d be out of Greerwood sooner if I break north. But what are the odds Carter or Aliya made it past Greerwood without that thing finding them? And if it found them…

  Keia shook her head. The search for Aliya and Carter was her priority. It hadn’t even begun yet. The entity had honed in on them as soon as they stepped foot in the forest. She needed to scan the surrounding area as much as possible.

  Greerwood’s huge, and they’re probably still in here. Aliya could trick it. Carter…

  Keia winced. If that thing caught up to Carter, he was already dead. The truth was right before her, but still, she held out hope that he somehow avoided it.

  Perhaps he knew the terrain better. Or maybe the creature couldn’t sense him, either.

  Mar said the entity wasn’t able to sense her. That was Keia’s one advantage, and it meant everything in the search for Carter and Aliya. She alternated casting portals and telepathic sweeps, searching for signs of life.

  On her third portal, she found a pack of frost wolves off in the distance. They were within sight, pained yellow eyes staring out from the white canvas. They moved north, wincing and growling and pawing at their bleeding heads. They paid Keia no mind, howling in sad pain as they left their homes.

  Poor things. What the hell could be doing this?

  The next few portals and sweeps yielded nothing. Her mind began to wander. If she saved Aliya, or Carter, or both, and returned to the kingdom—what would Symon do? She hoped he might take her family into account.

  Upon emerging from the next portal, Keia telepathically sensed a new presence—something unknown and yet familiar. It was faint, but the closer she got, the further it seemed. Was it—running? What even was this? There was only one way to find out.

  Keia ran through Greerwood with Valiance and her wand at the ready. The presence’s signal grew weaker, as if masking itself. Summoning all her concentration, Keia tracked her quarry. It couldn’t be an enemy—could it? This presence felt—frail.

  Keia jumped through portal after portal and finally saw something moving in the distance.

  It was an elderly man. He wasn’t fast; so, she chased on foot, forcing her frigid legs to run. She saw his bare face as he turned back to look at her with a horrified expression. He carried a wand that radiated a bright red light.

  Must be a mage.

  She shouted after him, “Stop!”

  “Don’t chase me!” The man shouted back. Keia ran until she was close enough to tackle him. They harmlessly crashed into a heavy blanket of snow. She stood up, breathing heavily.

  The old man cowered. “Who—who are you? Why are you chasing me? Are you—are you real?”

  “My name is Keia, and I’m—”

  “Keia?! No! Keia what?”

  “Atlos,” she said. “I’m a member of King Symon’s Militia, and I’m here to—”

  “You,” the old man’s eyes widened with fear. He appeared to be having some sort of mental breakdown. “It was supposed to be—you? Oh, no.” He grabbed his head and trembled. “No, god, no, why have you done this to me? You stupid little girl, you’ve killed us both! Please tell me you’re not real; no, it can’t be!”

  “Wh-what?”

  “You need to let me go. Right now. It’s the only way. Just walk away—leave me.”

  Keia raised her hands and tried to calm him down, “That’s out of the question. It’s dangerous out here, especially if you’re alone. I’ll protect you. There’s—there’s something out here.”

  “You don’t want that!” the man pleaded. “He’s coming back, and he’ll do bad things—very bad things! Please, just go, don’t stay here, you can’t stay here.” The man weakly tried to push her away.<
br />
  “Who are you?” Keia demanded.

  “Please don’t make me answer that. Stop asking stupid questions and run. Don’t you get it? If you die, I die!”

  She leveled her wand, tired of this charade. “I want your name.”

  His eyes widened, staring at the weapon less than a foot from his face. He shuddered and shook in fear.

  “Atlos!” the man said. “You’re an Atlos?”

  “Yes, Keia Atlos!” she said. “I told you that.”

  “You need to leave. You need to go. I’m saving your life by telling you this. Just go. It’s not worth staying. I’m not worth staying for.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The man pleaded, “Your revenge? Your stupid family? No, it’ll cost you your life. Run—you’re in danger.”

  She crossed her arms. “If you tell me your name, I’ll leave you alone. I only want to know because you’re being so weird about it.”

  “No, you won’t! If I tell you my name, you definitely won’t leave me alone! You won’t like it!”

  Keia shrugged. “Then we’re staying right here. I guess we’ll both die.”

  The old man grew more frustrated. His eyes darted about frantically as he tried to think his way out.

  Finally, he cried out, distraught, “Why did she have to find me? Why her, god? Why are you punishing me?”

  “Who are you praying to?”

  The man glared and spat back, “The oldest god—the only god. Yes, and he’s got plans for you, girl.”

  Keia pointed the wand at his forehead, and he cowered to avoid it. In a cold voice, she said, “Give me your name.”

  “You want it so badly?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I do.”

  Whimpering, he raised his arms in defense. “You won’t hurt me if I tell you?”

  “I won’t hurt you because of your name.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes,” Keia said. She almost felt sorry for the old man but got a strange feeling from him. Something was off. He needed more help than she could provide.

  “My name,” he said quietly, “is Remy. Remy Crusoe.”

  Keia’s eyes widened. Her pity disappeared. Ice shot through her veins in an instant. Of all Greerwood’s horrors, she had met but one—the man who killed her parents. And he was her captive. Remy hung his head.

  “You—” Keia seethed, “you’re coming with me.”

  Chapter 42

  The Eve of Battle

  Day 13 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  Scipion rose the next day after a restful sleep. Upon leaving his tent, he was greeted by Zel Ilear on horseback. Several kneeling prisoners were by her side.

  Zel Ilear gave a smile. “Look what we found.”

  “Spies, commander!” One of the Valkhar’s soldiers, a young man, held a knife to a ragged captive’s throat. There were two other captives, badly beaten and bloodied, each quivering in fear for their lives. “We found them, but none escaped. Anton won’t know what’s here.”

  “He’ll know something’s here,” Scipion replied. “Excellent work, all of you. Kill them. You may choose the method, Zel Ilear.”

  She drew her blade. “It would be my pleasure.”

  The Scorpion Knight turned his back as the captives begged for mercy. They were quickly cut down. One of their punctured lungs loosed a sound like a squealing pig’s, but Scipion kept himself from feeling sorry for them. He could not afford to feel pity for these men. This was a war.

  They made their choices.

  With a worried expression on his face, Echo intercepted Scipion as he walked to his tent. “I bring news.”

  “I hope it is not as dire as you look,” Scipion joked.

  Echo’s face remained unchanged.

  “It is. Out with it, then—what have you learned?”

  “It appears that they regrouped with the remnants of Jomar’s forces—another five hundred men in total. Their army is now double the size of ours,” Echo said.

  Scipion’s brow raised. “He didn’t have that many men when I fought him.”

  “Jomar scattered his men throughout the countryside to gather all his harvests at once—no doubt, he wasn’t expecting you at all. Anton consolidated all of them into one unit. The scouts tell me that some fifteen-hundred are marching here.”

  “That is not ideal,” Scipion replied. “When will they be there?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Scipion’s gaze drifted upward as he rubbed his chin. “I will let everyone know so that we can decide what to do. I never anticipated that Jomar still had troops left in the field.”

  “Nor did I. They traveled mainly within Xurubia and Grythos until crossing the Madros. None of my scouts were sent that far. What shall we do?” Echo asked.

  Meeting his eyes, Scipion said without hesitation, “We stand and fight. Send for the other commanders so that I can let them know. I’ll speak to them individually. And send word to your scouts—I want everyone pulled back and prepared for their role. They’ll be supporting the ground forces from the walls with their bows. Now, especially, we will need all the help we can get.”

  Echo nodded.

  Scipion returned to his tent and set about meeting with each of his commanders one last time, making sure they understood their part to play. Each was told of Anton’s reinforcements, but not one wavered.

  Zel Yano was the most confident among them, having declared, “Whether they have one or three thousand, half that, or more, we will not let such filth pass!”

  The confidence of his subordinates gave peace to Scipion’s mind. The Scorpion Knight was relieved to see the vigor of his soldiers but nervous about Anton’s numbers. There was no choice but to have faith and no reason not to. The troops understood their situation: win or die.

  As night settled over the grassy plains, Scipion’s mind was a frantic mixture of anxiety, confidence, fear, and courage. Finally, he had a chance to prove himself as a commander, and few threats were better to remove from the world in the process.

  —

  The next day passed slowly. The Valkhars practiced with their swords and spears while the mages meditated; Zel Ilear trotted the horses, then allowed them to graze before the battle. Scipion was up earlier than usual, unable to sleep the night before. Despite having confidence in his soldiers, he was nervous. This was a battle—anything could happen. Strange things occurred when people gathered to kill each other.

  True to Echo’s word, New Dawners came into view on the horizon before the day was past. The Oathsworn quickly mustered their defenses, prepared for anything. Great carts of Nertha were pulled by horses amid New Dawn’s ranks, and their cavalry marched alongside their wares. As the Oathsworn saw their numbers, whispers flew around their wall. Anxiety flooded the air.

  The Oathsworn became quite serious while they waited, and the sounds of the enemy’s disjointed march came within earshot as New Dawn drew ever closer. Scipion watched from the raised platforms of his wall, wondering if Anton would attack immediately.

  It appeared they would not. Four horses emerged from Anton’s army as his soldiers went about setting up camp. This piqued Scipion’s interest.

  He wants to parlay with me—well, let’s see what he has to say.

  He could hardly refuse—parlays were near-sacred events in the old times of Madros Relia. The Scorpion Knight immediately grabbed Matalo, Zel Ilear, Zel Daved, and Zel Yano. They mounted their horses and rode to meet the enemy, which consisted of Anton and three of his cavalry.

  Scipion rode out but stopped short and allowed Anton to come to him. Sure enough, Anton arrived and yanked on the reins of his great stallion. He trotted around as the horse struggled against his control, but he quickly quelled its rebellion with hooked spurs. It seemed fear kept things Anton considered beneath him in line.


  Scipion sat still as New Dawn’s leader stared hatefully, his eyes sunken from lack of sleep. There was a desperate look about him exactly as Scipion predicted. His other men looked no better off, and he shuddered to imagine how the regular troops under his command fared.

  “I should have known it would be you,” Anton spat. “Always barking, you were, and now we’ll finally see if your bite is worth the headache you’ve caused.”

  Keeping his head level, Scipion retorted, “It’s good to see you, too. And under more—equal circumstances. Oh, wait—did you want to get through this pass?”

  “You think you’re so smart,” Anton snarled. “You think you’re Ileon Eldus the bloody Conqueror, do you?”

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far.” Scipion patted the handle of his blade. “I’m the man who is going to kill you. That is all I need to be today.”

  “So that’s it, then,” Anton mocked. “Hell of a hill to die on. You’re going to stand in my way with those paper-thin walls and hope to stop my numbers? Doing your best impression of your mother and father at Sophegion, eh? History repeats itself after all.”

  Scipion’s eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched toward his sheathed blade, but he held himself back.

  I’ll have my victory tomorrow. Let him have his remarks today.

  Zel Yano stepped in. “Our walls are more than enough to repel starving thieves and marauders. You can’t get through stone.”

  “I’m well aware that your walls are made of stone,” the Day brother shot back. “Truth be told, Scipion, I’m surprised. I heard you were in the business of protecting the commoners, and now that you have a king, you let hundreds die? Power changes a man, I suppose.”

  Scipion’s lips curled into a half-smile as he said, “Are you mad that I’m not as foolish as you thought? I will answer to the gods for those people’s suffering. But you, Anton, you will answer to me.”

  Anton glared and pointed at Scipion’s face. “I’m going to enjoy pulling that tongue from your mouth. Then we’ll see how big you talk. Eh? No more clever remarks without your army behind you.”