Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  “For a simple half-breed, you have excellent reflexes.” Her tone is accusing and I don’t know what to make of it.

  “It’s a nice knife,” I say lamely.

  But my statement is true, at least. The knife is of remarkable craftsmanship. The pommel is a scaly silver circle with a black crystal set in the centre of it, the grip is redwood embossed with a spiral of black silver, and the cross-guard is a depiction of two blackened silver dragons. Each dragon faces outward, their tails entwined around the first few inches of the foot-long blade.

  “It should be,” she says with pride. “I forged it myself.”

  “Ah,” I nod, my breath catching up with me. “You’re a blacksmith?”

  Her thick brows draw into a steely glare. “In my spare time, yes.”

  She looks at the knife in my hand.

  “Oh, sorry.” I hold out the handle to her, but keep a close eye on her movements in case she decides to impale me again.

  A brief look of wonder crosses her face. “You would give the weapon back to your attacker? That’s remarkably stupid.”

  But she doesn’t move to take it back.

  “Oh no, it’s yours,” she explains when she sees my confusion. “You caught it, you keep it. Who knows? It might come in handy some time soon.” She grins unnervingly, then turns to the open doorway to the living chamber. “Come. The Master wishes to speak with you.”

  The pit of my stomach drops and is rapidly replaced by a burning indignation.

  What more could he possibly have to say? I’ve already seen enough to know how despicable he is. Nothing he does or says will convince me of otherwise.

  I follow her cautiously, my grip tight on the handle of my new knife.

  The adjoining room is sparsely accommodated with two crescent sofas with a low table between them. They face out toward a set of crystal doors that open to a dark balcony. On either side of the doorframe is a torch, which combusts into flames as soon as I set foot into the room.

  Bellator steps aside, her hands clasped behind her back, and nods to the balcony. “He’s over there.”

  I skirt around her, watching her out of the corner of my eye. I might’ve caught the knife when she threw it at me, but I doubt I can do much if she decides to stab me in the back.

  It turns out there’s no need to worry. Once I’ve passed her by, she turns on her heel and exits the room. The doors click shut behind her, leaving me alone in Zeldek’s dark presence.

  Chapter Eight

  I squint past the bright illumination of torchlight to the darkness of the balcony, only able to detect a slight haze of movement. But I know Zeldek is there.

  “You wanted to speak with me,” I say a bit too stiffly.

  The flames rise in their posts, brightening the entire vicinity. The light reaches the balcony, and I can make out his dark form. He stands at the edge of the parapet, his back to me. His hands rest on the balustrade as he surveys whatever is below.

  “Half-race,” Zeldek greets tonelessly. “Has Bellator been kind to you?”

  I am too angry to laugh at the ridiculous question. Is Bellator even capable of kindness?

  “That depends on one’s definition of kindness, sir.”

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?” I can hear the smile in his voice and I despise him for it.

  “Yes.”

  “Then she has been kind to you.”

  Despite the humour of his words, I feel my fists clench at my sides. “I thought you gave me time to think about your offer.”

  He turns his head to the side. “I did.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  There is a slight pause. “It is of another matter which I have come to speak.”

  I wait for him to explain himself, but he doesn’t.

  “What is it?”

  He turns to me at last, coming to stand beneath the arch of the doorframe. “You.”

  “Me?” I echo, unease filling me. “What do you mean?”

  “Sit and I will explain myself,” he says, gesturing to the sofas.

  I don’t move.

  He frowns. “I see. Well, if you won’t sit, I will.”

  He takes a seat, crossing one knee over the other, and leans back with a deep sigh. A wave of exhaustion washes over his sunken face, and for a moment, his age catches up with him. But the moment is brief.

  “I have not been as forthcoming with you as I should’ve been,” he begins, entwining his fingers together. “My intention was to break all of this to you slowly to avoid overwhelming you, but I see my caution has only caused you confusion. The truth is, Ealdred – and you might have guessed this already – you are not as ordinary as you may have thought.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “What do you mean, ordinary?”

  He rubs his chin between his index finger and thumb. “I suppose I should say it plainly.” He clears his throat. “You are a half-race.”

  “Yeah, really hard to miss that,” I say, furrowing my brows. “What with being a slave because of it.”

  “Not half-breed. Half-race. Half-breeds are individuals that are descended both from those who live in the darkness beneath the ground and those who dwell under the sun, but are humans nonetheless. A half-race is one who is half human, half Vaelhyrean.”

  That piques my interest. “Half Vaelhyrean?”

  He nods.

  “What, exactly, is a Vaelhyrean?”

  “I am a Vaelhyrean.”

  He turns to stare out through the balcony doors, his face growing downcast.

  “Long ago, before the five races of humankind were formed, my people, the Vaelhyreans, came from over the northern sea to inhabit Theara. We were splendorous, beautiful beings of great power, which we carried with us from our homeland. We were Irla’s – that is, Earth’s – guardians, sworn to protect and serve her, and as a reward for our service, she granted us control of the elements. We were bound to protect the new land we had found and to command its elements with wisdom. Over us ruled King Emyr, the wisest and most powerful of all the Vaelhyreans. He directed us with foresight and justness.”

  A deep sorrow wells in his dark eyes.

  My anger begins to slip away quite against my will. “What happened to you?”

  Heaving a great sigh, he glares into the flames of the torches and his voice is bitter as he continues. “Upon the creation of humanity, King Emyr made a pledge to Irla that we would welcome this new species to live amongst us, and that we would use our magic to safeguard them. But there was a rebel among us called Caderyn who cared nothing for the humans, desiring only to dominate them. He swayed a council of twelve Vaelhyreans over to his way of thinking and together, they went in search of the ultimate source of power – the Aemurel, a substance made purely of dark magic. King Emyr had trapped it in a sceptre and locked it away in an abyss, the entrance to which was hidden in a chasm deep beneath the crust of the earth. Combining their power, they took possession of the sceptre and the insatiable malice within. A great battle ensued between those loyal to Emyr and the forces of Caderyn and it lasted for over a century. Many on both sides were lost and many of the elements were destroyed. One, ice, was lost to insanity and had to be locked away.” The terrible recollection haunts his eyes and he shudders. “In the end, my four siblings and I were among the few left to defend Emyr.”

  “Banner and Ulmer are your siblings, aren’t they?” My voice is accusing, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes. We also had two sisters, Batuel and... Sylvia.”

  “Had?”

  His expression turns to stone. “They are dead,” he says, and his voice grows only more frightening as he continues. “They did not understand. No one did! Caderyn had to fall, and fate saw fit that I be the one to end him. I slew him in the great hall of this very palace and the Aemurel presented itself to me. It showed me a way to save my people! So I took it and I used its power to wipe out the remaining traitors. But when I returned home, I found that I was too late. King Emyr had been killed.�
�� His fist clenches and he bows his forehead to it. “You see, that is why my brothers hate me. Those who had once been my allies blamed me for his death. They saw my possession of the Aemurel as a threat and tried to make me destroy it. But I could not part with it. It had saved us, and I was not like Caderyn; I could control it! But my own family, all of them – they betrayed me, attacked me, and I could do nothing but retaliate. They saw my strength then, too late. I drove them into hiding, where they have stayed for the last two thousand years, licking their wounds and biding their time.”

  Knowing him for even this short time, I doubt he was as innocent in the matter as he claims. But I don’t dare say this aloud.

  I clear my throat. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because it is your legacy! If you swear your allegiance to me, you will be my heir, and this the cause that will carry you forward. You will live it, breathe it! It will determine the rest of your life and your rule long after I am gone.”

  Apparently, he has my entire life planned out for me. “And what cause is that?”

  “To rule the world as was once intended, spreading prosperity to those worthy, and weeding out those who are a detriment to that prosperity.”

  “And who would that be?” I dare to ask.

  He narrows his eyes. “Anyone who stands in our way.”

  I recoil, trying not to show that I have no inclination toward going along with this plan.

  A long, unbroken silence hangs in the air and he stands, turning to stare into the darkness beyond.

  I swallow, working up my courage to speak again. “So... you think I’m half Vaelhyrean?”

  “I don’t think it,” he snaps. “I know it!”

  “But how do you know?”

  “I know everything about you. I told you, I’ve been observing you since your birth. You see, I knew your father.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “My father?”

  “Yes, your father. The very same man that sold you into slavery all those years ago.”

  I am stunned. My father was the one that sold me into slavery?

  “The only reason that you are alive now is because I was watching over you, although my foolish brother seems to think it was his work.”

  “But... well, wasn’t it?” I venture to say. “Even in the alleyway, the only danger seemed to be you. Banner just wanted to protect me.”

  “In the alleyway, perhaps, but what else has he done for you? This whole time, I’ve been the one protecting you from yourself!”

  “From myself?” I echo. “What are you talking about?”

  “The earthquake, the sharpened reflexes, the vision; what do you think caused these things? Your master was right to call you what you are: a sorcerer, and a powerful one at that!”

  “I—” My voice falters, horror filling me. “I did do that?”

  “Indeed. Each time, you drew on the well of energy stored within yourself, and you were able to do extraordinary things. These early stages are crucial for learning to control these powers for the rest of your life. If you do not, you will do yourself more harm than good.”

  I don’t want to admit that he is right. A half-breed sorcerer? I would never be able to show my face anywhere ever again without someone wanting to enslave or kill me.

  “So... so I can use magic?”

  “Not just any magic,” he said. “Petty witchcraft done by mortals is weak and fleeting. No, what you and I possess is elemental magic, which is the most powerful magic of all. You were born with this ability, though I took it from you as a child to keep it from getting you into trouble. But such a thing cannot stay absent forever if it is rooted deeply within you. Your magic began to come back to you the same day that I took you from Zandelba, when you unknowingly almost brought down your master’s estate. You could not control it, and your fear and anger made it very strong indeed. It will only grow stronger as time goes by. You will need a master to teach you to control it.” He turns to face me, an intent look in his eye. “I would be pleased to oversee your training, if you accept my offer to join my cause.”

  And that is something that I will never do.

  Trying to buy some time, I quickly change the subject, and ask the question nagging in my mind.

  “Sir... you said that you knew my father. Can you tell me who he was?”

  His expression turns to disappointment. “It doesn’t matter who he was. He didn’t want you as a son! Isn’t that saying enough?”

  “But I need to know.”

  He goes on as if I’d never raised the question. “To aid you in cultivating your magic is the reason I brought you here. I must be the one to train you, or you will be of no use to me at all.”

  “Use?” The word is bitter to my tongue. “To what purpose?”

  He pauses, finally turning back to face me. “Your destiny, so to speak, is a great one in the eyes of many. If you give me your loyalty, I will equip you as best I can to accomplish it.”

  I take a deep breath. “And if I refuse?”

  His cold smile sends a chill down my spine. “There are other methods to get what I want. Methods that would break the spirit of even the strongest warrior.”

  “T-torture?” I can barely mouth the word.

  “Like nothing that you can imagine. I warn you, things will not go well for you if you get it into your head to be stubborn. I have had many years to plan for this and I do not intend to fail now.”

  No one ever intends to fail.

  “Think it through carefully. I expect an answer by the end of the week. Do not disappoint me, Elroy.”

  With that, he disappears in a cloud of thick, black smoke. It lingers in the air for only a moment, and then the flames in the torches are extinguished, cloaking the room in gloomy darkness.

  I feel my way over to the sofa, and sit down, letting out my breath in a rush. He called me Elroy, the same name Banner used before I was taken. It isn’t that I don’t like the name. On the contrary, it has a very nice feel to it. But why? Why had they both called me by that name? Is it a key that will unlock the secret to my past? A title, maybe?

  No matter how many questions I ask, the answers do not come.

  I can use magic; that much is clear. Magic that I don’t have even the beginnings of an idea how to use. It almost got me executed back in Weisport. I must learn to control it. But I cannot stay here. Zeldek is cruel and I refuse to serve him. Yet he will demand an answer from me, and I doubt the one I’ll give will please him very much. Then he will torture me, and I’ll end up serving him anyways.

  What choice do I really have?

  Conflict raging within me, I wander out onto the balcony. The sky is overcast with dark clouds that snuff out all light. A thin mist hangs in the stifling air, shedding a ghostly light on my surroundings. A parapet cut from grey stone extends from the smooth obsidian of the building’s outer walls, guarding the edge of a drop.

  I approach, wrapping my fingers tightly around the balustrade before leaning carefully to peer over the edge.

  What I see takes my breath away.

  I am standing at the top of a tower that looks out over the edge of a cliff. Stretching out as far as the eye can see are the grey, stormy waves of the sea. They chase each other to the foot of the cliff and collide into the side of it. The spray shoots up, bathing the base of the tower in foam, and then cascades back into the depths of the ocean in time for the next breaker to follow it.

  Over the roar of the ocean, there comes a faint beating sound, almost like a sheet flapping in a strong wind. Suddenly, a huge, black creature flashes across my vision, piercing the air with a wild screech. A dagger shoots past me and clatters to the floor of the room behind me. I stagger back in shock.

  The creature circles above the water and starts back toward me. As it comes, I notice Bellator sitting on the creature’s back, smirking down at me. She pulls another dagger from her belt and raises it to throw.

  I turn, my heart pounding in terror, and dart through the d
oors, slamming them behind me. Seconds later, the knife shatters through one of the crystal panes and falls to the floor at my feet. Gasping, I put my back to the doorframe and grasp my knife in both hands.

  “What’s the matter with you?” a voice drawls.

  I spin around, pointing my knife in the direction of the voice.

  Uri stops in the doorway opposite the balcony and throws up his hands. “Hold on, would you? It’s me!”

  I lower the blade. “S-sorry.”

  Seemingly forgetting the incident in an instant, he yawns and stretches himself out on one of the sofas. “That’s a real live dragon, in case you don’t know.”

  I try to relax, but my tense muscles refuse to obey. “What was?”

  “Hmm? Oh, the beast you was runnin’ from. The Master keeps a few ‘round as pests. Part of his plan to take over the world.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “When he gets his power back, he’s gonna get revenge on the lot of us for not kissin’ ‘is feet, and terrorize us ‘til we repent of our sins.”

  So how do I fit into this? These powers that I have... clearly, they are the reason I am here in the first place. Not because he wants a son. He needs them for something.

  I won’t be used like that. Not as a weapon.

  “I don’t think he’ll never get it back,” Uri continues, closing his eyes and settling into the cushions, “so we don’t got nothin’ to worry about. He’s been a tryin’ for the past few thousand years now, but ain’t got nowhere.”

  “What happened to it?”

  He opens one eye. “To what?”

  “His power. I thought he had it.”

  He shrugs again. “Oh, he’s got some. I don’t really understand it, to be honest. But he’s got a hankerin’ to get the rest back.”

  “I take it you don’t support his cause?”

  His tone grows bitter. “It don’t matter what I think! I’m only here ‘cause my cursed pap traded me for a fleet of ships and the rank of pirate captain for Zeldek.”

  I feel sorry for him. As I have recently discovered, the only thing worse than not having parents is having them abandon you.