The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  Interesting.

  The Dark Disciple woke before long, unsure of where he was. The last thing he remembered was casting a killing spell at Keia after she took his arm. Exhausted and wounded, he struggled to stand.

  The familiar presence once more entered his clouded mind. Ezra closed his eyes—he was in the central chamber of Ashuram’s Temple, standing before his Master. He knelt.

  “Master,” Ezra began, “forgive my failure. I—”

  “Rise,” Ashuram interrupted before letting loose a deep, mechanical sigh. “You underestimated her.”

  “Keia?”

  “Lady Rhiannon reborn.” Ashuram stood. Decades ago, its body had been broken beyond repair, forcing the creature to slowly hobble as it circled the room. The sound of metal grinding against metal rang out; sparks flew as its joints moved. “I hope you now realize the difficulty of your task. I never said that it would be easy.”

  “Keia can’t be Rhiannon,” Ezra said, “she’s much too weak, even after this—anomaly.”

  “And what does that make you, the man she defeated?” Ashuram chided. “She was weak. Now she’s not. Before long, she’ll be stronger than you or I could ever imagine. I feel the same sense of wonder, the same fear as I felt one thousand years ago—though back then, I didn’t understand it.”

  Still unwilling to believe what he’d witnessed, Ezra said, “She’s too sentimental to be a real threat to us.”

  “The original Lady Rhiannon was sentimental, too.”

  Ezra lowered his head and slowly said, “I take full responsibility. I will accept whatever punishment you choose.”

  “Any punishment I choose is not your choice to accept,” Ashuram menaced. “There are valuable lessons to be gripped from the jaws of defeat. Your hatred for Aliya blinded you—made you overlook the youngest.”

  “Did she—did she save me?”

  The Master’s darkened features twisted into the closest thing it could to a smile. “Yes,” it replied. “Are you ashamed? I’d be a little surprised if you weren’t.”

  Ezra was unsure of how to respond. “Did you foresee my defeat, Master?”

  “I knew you’d draw out the best of her—a power she’ll struggle to control.”

  The Dark Disciple’s frown deepened. “Master, why did you let me—”

  Ashuram’s head tilted.

  “Forgive me, my Master. I never meant to doubt you.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive so long as you’ve grown. I knew it would be like this. Defeating her is a process. The first Rhiannon was a walking miracle. She decimated the Masters because they weren’t prepared for her. This time is different. There’s only one god—and it’s not going to be her.”

  Ezra nodded and looked down.

  “You’re wondering what punishment I’ve prepared,” Ashuram observed. “Losing your arm seems punishment enough. Against her, defeat can be excused. However”—it leaned in—“if you underestimate her again…”

  “Yes, Master.” The Dark Disciple shuddered. Ashuram’s Illusions felt horrifyingly real—every excruciating detail of them.

  “Excellent. Now we can move forward—on to bigger and better things.”

  “Killing Keia?”

  Ashuram shook its head. “Did you not listen? Patience. I need you to retrieve something—it will be of utmost importance in the coming war.”

  “What is it, Master?”

  “A book. You will travel south of Greerwood into the Plains of Ithera. Be cautious—your destination is within the boundaries of the kingdom’s laws. A hidden home stowed away, its resident almost forgotten—but I remember. Once we have it, god’s work can truly begin, starting with the one you hate most.”

  Ezra’s eyes lit up, fanatic and starved. “The liar?”

  “Eldest to youngest, the offerings must be made—that is dogma, is it not? It’s nearly fortunate that you were defeated. If, in your blind rage, you had killed Keia, you might have ended up like Remy.”

  The Dark Disciple shuddered and bowed his head, expecting to be dismissed; however, the Master sat upon its throne and asked, “Do you know why I chose you, Ezra?”

  “Yes. For my strength of will.”

  Ashuram’s red eyes glowed with a thousand years worth of hatred. “History is about to repeat itself, or try to. Rhiannon has returned, and you are my greatest weapon. The inheritor of the legacy of the Dark Disciple, the man who went to any lengths to oppose Lady Rhiannon—you will be instrumental in the coming war. You were born to be a Master. Next time you stand against your family, you will lead a great and terrible army.”

  “I understand, Master.”

  Ashuram leaned back. “Excellent. Now, go—and you may want to fix your arm before the war starts in earnest.”

  The world blurred into itself; the Plains of Breyten returned to Ezra’s weary eyes. His purpose was clear—there was no time to rest.

  Next, the Dark Disciple thought, a devilish grin spreading across his face, to find an arm, and then the book.

  Chapter 54

  Elduston

  Day 182 of the Season of Aion, 1019 YAR

  Lady Anasia sat with the Green Creek refugees in King Logan’s camp. She braided the hair of Adamma, a young girl whose parents were killed by New Dawn years ago. Anasia loved the little girl’s company. The lady had always wanted a child but willfully abstained. No child deserved to be brought into this life.

  As the lady braided Adamma’s hair, the girl asked, “Lady Anasia?”

  “Yes, little one?”

  “When are we going back to Green Creek?”

  Anasia had no answer. She had pondered it; it also crossed her mind whether Green Creek was worth returning to. Did they even have a home anymore, or would they travel with King Logan until his forces won or were defeated? Which provided a better life for her people?

  “I do not know for sure, little one,” Anasia replied, trying to mask the worry in her voice. “Perhaps we will find a new home. A better one.”

  “I hope so. My feet hurt. I wish we didn’t have to travel so much.”

  Anasia mustered a smile. “I know, little one. Me too.”

  A gruff man sat down next to the two. Anasia recognized him as Hasani, another of the Green Creek refugees. His beard was ragged and unshaven, and his eyes were cold after the loss of his wife to Anton Day’s forces.

  Hasani pulled two spellstones from his pocket and asked, “Are you two hungry?”

  Adamma smiled excitedly, for she had not eaten since yesterday. Anasia nodded; she had not eaten for two days. They took the stones and produced flesh and bread to quell their hunger.

  “Thank you,” Lady Anasia told Hasani. “Where did you get this?”

  He said, “King Logan’s scouting parties found a few extra stones; so, they gave some to the refugees. Eat your fill, and keep them on you—but keep quiet about them. They’ll last us a while so long as we don’t break them and no one steals them.”

  “Do you bring any news of Scipion?” Lady Anasia asked after taking a bite from another piece of flesh. Hasani always found a way to know things.

  “No, I’m afraid we haven’t heard anything,” he said grimly. “Well, I haven’t. I don’t know if King Logan has or not. Still the same news as last time: he’s gone south.”

  Anasia’s eyes dimmed once more. Hasani cocked his head and said, “You think his friend is handsome, don’t you?”

  The lady laughed. “Handsome, and foolish.”

  “I hope they come back, too.” Hasani looked off into the distance. “Not very many men are interested in changing these lands for the better. I hadn’t seen one for a long time. These lands need people like them now more than ever.”

  “He will return,” Lady Anasia said. “No one else did, but I always knew that in my heart. But him—this time it’s different. This time…”


  “You’re infatuated,” Hasani teased, smiling.

  Adamma interjected, “Lady Anasia, are you going to marry him?”

  “No, little one, I’m not going to marry him.”

  “Why not?” the little girl demanded.

  “Men like him don’t live very long.” Lady Anasia forced a smile as she paused. “He’s reckless, willing to risk himself for others. That’s not the man I want to marry.”

  “What kind of man do you want to marry then?”

  Lady Anasia thought about it for a moment while Hasani laughed at the little girl’s question. The lady hadn’t thought about it since she was a girl; there was never time to contemplate marriage.

  “I would want a man who is a good person,” she began, “someone who would be good with kids, raise his sons and daughters to be strong. Someone who could make me feel safe and warm. I suppose,” Lady Anasia paused, “the man I want does not exist.”

  “Of course he does,” Adamma said. “He’s somewhere out there.”

  Lady Anasia chuckled. “You think so?”

  “I know so,” Adamma said adamantly. “When Aion creates a person, he splits them into two. It’s destiny to meet and become whole. Nothing can keep us from our destiny.”

  Lady Anasia kept the old gods instead of Aion. Surely the child’s words were her parents’ teachings. If some people were destined to meet, why did so many die alone? Still, she smiled at the little girl so as not to offend her.

  “All that aside, I think we’ll be packing up the camp soon,” Hasani jumped in. “King Logan said he wants to march to Elduston beginning today. Be ready.”

  Lady Anasia nodded. Adamma and Hasani went off to gather their belongings and bid the others to do the same. The lady walked to the edge of their camp and gazed out upon the Great Veld of Alnatria. For a moment, she stared southward and prayed to the old gods for Matalo’s safe return. Then, she turned to assist her people in packing up for the march.

  —

  King Logan’s host was well received by Lord Dumaka Ngozi, Lord of Elduston. He was a governor under the former King of Xurubia. Now Elduston supported the new king’s as of yet unmade claim. Lord Ngozi harbored the Lost Prince whenever needed, and pledged his soldiers to the cause when the time came for war against Lord Mornwas.

  Lady Anasia hustled her fellow Green Creek refugees through the gate of Elduston’s Great Steel Rampart. The city impressed her greatly, having never seen anything like it before. It struck Lady Anasia how ancient the city seemed, as if it had been bustling as it was today since the beginning.

  Elduston was divided into planned zones: there were the Housing and Market Districts, the Church and School District, where the Religious Buildings and Academies resided—mostly fanciful buildings built by magical architects long ago, the Historic District, where the ruins of Old Elduston were preserved, and the Judicial District in the center of the city, where Lord Ngozi kept the peace.

  The citizens of Elduston came from every corner of Alea, many risking their lives to do so. Merchants came for the large population, scholars came to study the Eldus Empire or in any of the Academies of Elduston, believers in Aion made pilgrimages to the Radiant Temple, and refugees flocked there because of the protection it offered.

  It was a city that offered hope to the hopeless and gave life where there was misery, and Lord Ngozi took pride in making it so. Elduston was nearly destroyed in a two-year siege when Nialarix arrived. It was rebuilt after his departure; the people were resilient and always came together in times of need.

  King Logan rode alongside Lord Dumaka Ngozi to the Government District’s main building, the Hall of Eldus. The lord rode on a white horse and wore bright robes with many colors and gold-lined white slacks made of silk. He was clean-shaven and bald, for he was also a Priest of Aion, and adhered to their strict orthodox guidelines.

  King Logan spoke first. “Lord Dumaka Ngozi—ever faithful to the crown. Thank you for the shelter. We will not be long this time.”

  “You are welcome whenever the Black Heart is not in the gates of our city,” Dumaka replied. “After he is defeated one day, you are welcome any time. As far as I am concerned, this is your city, my king. I just watch over it for Aion’s sake—and to keep it from the Black Heart’s clutches.”

  “It appears to be much appreciated by your people,” King Logan noted. “You’ve done right by them, Lord Ngozi.”

  “I only do what Aion decreed in scripture,” Dumaka deflected. “Now, let us find accommodations for your soldiers; they look weary. Have you brought me refugees?”

  “I would be grateful for the hospitality,” Logan said. “I have about a thousand refugees from several settlements attacked by New Dawn. I hope that you have room for them.”

  Dumaka smiled. “Of course we have room! The poor, the afflicted, and the war-torn are always welcome in Elduston, as dictated by Aion.” He gestured for an armored and serious young man to come forward. “Captain Nassor, could you lead the soldiers and refugees to the Housing District and see to it that they are given proper treatment? King Barradi and I have many things to discuss.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Nassor replied. He turned to the mass of King Logan’s host. “Follow me, and we will find you beds, baths, meals, and whatever else we can to make you comfortable.”

  “Booze?” one of the refugees shouted, to a round of stifled laughter.

  Captain Nassor smiled. “I think they’ll get along just fine here.”

  Lady Anasia, Hasani, and Adamma walked behind Captain Nassor through the winding roads. The refugees and soldiers compacted to fit in the narrow streets of the Housing District. They were first led to a large, empty building. Here Captain Nassor stopped and addressed the soldiers.

  “These are the Elduston Barracks, where all military personnel will be staying. There are several storage bays and armories in the lower levels, where you can store your supplies and weapons. The rooms are on the top floors, and there will be plenty of space for all of you. If any of you need new weapons, Elduston’s forges are open to the king’s soldiers anytime.”

  The soldiers filled the building. The refugees were led on by Captain Nassor. They came to the area where the poor lived, though few had want of food or necessities. Children played with trinkets on the street while adults tanned leather, tended to fires, or drank ale and wine. Come nightfall they all had a place to rest their heads in the commons.

  Captain Nassor found room for refugees in common dwellings. The Green Creek refugees were placed in a three-story stone building that looked ancient but strong. The rooms were small, but the refugees were grateful. Adamma stayed with Lady Anasia in a room with two beds, a light stone, and two small dressers. A single large window overlooked Elduston. Adamma pressed her face against it in awe of the enormous city.

  “It’s so many people!” she said with a sense of wonderment. Lady Anasia smiled.

  “Yes, it’s quite a large place, isn’t it?”

  Adamma turned and asked, “Can we stay here forever?”

  “Perhaps we can, little one.”

  Adamma turned back to the view. Her childlike joy comforted Lady Anasia. There was not much joy in these lands; any happiness Adamma found meant a lot to her. For now, the lady was hungry and knew Adamma surely was, too.

  “Little one, I am going to get food for us,” Lady Anasia said as she stood. “Would you like to come with?”

  Adamma nodded and tried to suppress a huge grin. Lady Anasia took her hand and led her down to the cobbled stone city streets. They walked in silence and took in the people around them and the beautiful buildings. The lady’s home was gone forever, but she felt at peace here. Guards patrolled the streets to settle quarrels and calm drunkards, keeping everyone as safe as possible.

  Perhaps Adamma is right, Lady Anasia thought as they strolled through the bustling city of Elduston. This could be
a home.

  —

  Lady Anasia walked alone through the Merchant District. They had been living in Elduston for a week now, and none of the Green Creek refugees could be happier. The city allowed them to live a life of comfort with all their needs met. Lady Anasia took great joy in simply walking around.

  She was given a job washing clothes and worked four days of every seven. She saved enough to buy Adamma clothes and supplies for school. Lady Anasia considered staying in Elduston when King Logan continued his march to Sophegion.

  It would be perfect for Adamma. She can go to school. Or paint. Or learn to fight. All the chances I never had.

  The lady still thought about Matalo often but doubted his return. Her father, one of the Valkhars who lived outside of Elbishelm, rode away, telling promises of how he would raise an army and expel the Bhothar from their lands. He was never heard from again. Her brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts all went off; she knew their fates well enough. Her would-be husband went off for glory and never came back to her. How could she expect someone she barely knew to return?

  A commotion broke out near the gates. She stopped walking and stood still as the city guards shouted amongst each other about something outside.

  Anasia froze. It’s either very good or very bad.

  She heard the clopping hooves of trotting horses. Upon turning, she beheld King Logan, Zel Rybeck, Lord Ngozi, Captain Nassor, and several Valkhars and advisers. Seeing their leaders, the city guard straightened up.

  “My king,” said one of the guards. “There is someone outside the gates claiming to be with you.”

  King Logan asked, “Has he given his name?”

  “Yes. He says his name is Scipion Gannala the Second, and he bears a gift from New Dawn.”

  Lady Anasia’s heart skipped a beat. They’ve returned. By the gods, they’ve returned. Does this mean Matalo—

  “Open the gates. I’ve been expecting him,” King Barradi said. He turned and addressed Lord Ngozi. “They were sent after Anton Day and told only to return if they kept their oath. This means he is surely dead.”