by Aldrea Alien
GOLDEN DAWN
Book One of the Unborn Trilogy
Aldrea Alien
Table of Contents
Title Page
Golden Dawn (Unborn Trilogy, #1)
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
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About the Author
Family and blood.
After 1100 years, these simple words mean everything to Herald. His life has been ruled by keeping his siblings safe, keeping them from becoming prey whilst feeding on the weaker. His failures have been many and measured by those he has lost. People like his twin brother.
There has always been another enemy.
Just who the enemy is comes into question when Herald meets the dangerous, angelic creature he is to guard. Wondering where his true loyalties lie is a dangerous thought. No matter whether he chooses family over the heart, it will mean death.
Only the right choice will ensure the life taken is not his.
Prologue
Moonlight glittered upon the frost shrouding the road. The clatter of horses echoed into the treetops, counterpointed by the rumble of carriage wheels. Steam rose from the beasts' flanks and billowed out their muzzles in ashen clouds.
Six men rode on horseback on either side of the carriage, their hands gripping sword hilts and eyes narrowed to survey the gloom beyond the light of the swinging lantern.
Already, Ștefan could smell their fear as they traipsed a land foreign to their eyes. His land. Their dread of what may lurk in the shadows sat sharp against the stench of horseflesh. Not quite heavy enough to taste, but close.
He smiled. That would change.
The last solid trees of a once wild forest lined the edge of the road. Scrub huddled in the shadows of these wooden giants. The occasional branch hung over the cobblestones in a half-hearted canopy.
Ștefan watched from one such bough, crouching on a wide branch and peering through the foliage. He'd waited hours, since sunset, for this carriage to appear. The armed escort. The garish gilding on the carriage. It had to be carrying that pompous young lord from across the land. No doubt the promised chest of jewels sat within.
They were almost before him now. He squeezed his sword hilt, the leather moulding beneath his palm, and eased the dagger from its sheath with his other hand. His fingers inched along the blade, readying to throw, the metal cold against his skin. Just a few more steps.
The horses halted despite the driver's whip and the men's spurs. One of the animals on the left reared, throwing his rider. A scream erupted from under the spindly legs as the horse trampled the man and then fled. The dying body, its limbs twisted in ways no man's were meant to go, twitched.
Ștefan shuddered as the whiff of flowing blood hit his senses like a blacksmith's hammer. He breathed deeply, relishing that tangy aroma and the sweet metallic tinge running through it. Each breath honed his focus, heightening the already deadly ability gifted to him.
Below, the men were regaining control of the horses. The beasts continued onward, their eyes wide and each high step hesitant.
Ștefan leapt onto the moving carriage roof. His dagger flew at the closest guard, downing the man before he could react. Sword unsheathed, he dodged the attacks of two others. A swipe in their direction and the tip of his blade bit flesh.
The scent of blood and fear was hot in the air. Hunger writhed through his veins. It played with his vision, turning the world into swirls of rainbow-hued figures. To one side, the orange and white ripples in the form of a horse pranced sideways as the animal and its rider plunged beside the carriage. The rider—his display of colours faded—had slumped in the saddle.
Movement on Ștefan's right forced him to the back of the roof. Armed men, their horses fighting to flee, pressed close. Swords longer than his sliced the air before him. He swung, deflecting and attacking in the same stroke. They sat just out of reach, harrying him. To what end? None of them would ever be capable of matching his strength or speed.
He smelt a presence behind him. The swish of a blade slammed into the wood at his heels. Ștefan spun and lunged for the iridescent glow. He wrapped an arm around the man's head and twisted. The head came free with a crunch.
He staggered back, the carriage wobbling and creaking under his feet as the harnessed horses bolted down the road. Sticky warmth bathed his hands. The man's head slipped from his fingers. That wasn't meant to happen. The neck should've merely snapped, not torn.
"Die, you dog!" a guard roared.
Stiffening, he glanced down at the tip of a blade sticking out of his chest. It grated against his ribs with each breath. He became dimly aware of the coolness pressing against his flesh, but no more.
"What ungodly magic is this?" snarled the guard behind him. The blade slid out, allowing Ștefan the freedom to face the man. "Strigoi!" the guard cried out, wheeling the horse away from the carriage. "There is a demon in our midst, men! Flee or die!"
Not wishing to wait for his fellow guards, the man turned his mount back the way they'd come. He spurred the horse and the pair fast disappeared into the night. The thud of hoofbeats and yelling filled the air as the remaining men followed the first one's lead.
Behind Ștefan came a muffled thud. Through the rainbow hues fading from his vision, he could make out the crumpled form of a headless body lying at the front of the carriage. Removing the remains of the driver from the rooftop seating, he groped about for the reins.
The horses swung into each other, caught between the desire to race on and the need to obey the steel in their mouths. Ștefan hauled on their reins in silent demand. The animals squealed their defiance before obeying the commanding tug of metal. They came to a halt with snorts and a clatter of shod hooves.
Ștefan listened for any telltale sounds of company over the nervous shuffle of the horses. His ears caught only the unnatural hum of a forest keeping too quiet. Frowning, he peered over the edge of the roof. The far door swung on its hinges and heavy curtains stirred in the chill breeze. No sign of the young lord. Had he fled whilst his men fought?
He jumped to the ground, sword at the ready. Still nothing. Inside the carriage, clashing against the velvet cushioning that lined the seats, sat a small ironbound chest. A smile tweaked his lips, stretching them tight over his fangs. He caressed the chest, the wood warm under his fingers. There would be more than enough gold to fulfil his end of the bargain. Ah, my dear Ruxandra, we will be together after all.
Ștefan clambered back into the driver's seat, the half-healed wound in his chest tugging at each movement. With a gentle slap of the reins on the horses' flanks, he urged the panting beasts into a trot. All he had to do was reach the castle before dawn and his dream of marrying Ruxandra would become real. It wasn't much further. Already he could see the towers of the only home he'd ever known, reaching up into the night sky like massive spears.
The rest of the castle soon came into sight as the trees ended and the road stood clear. To look upon those once graceful spires with fresh eyes, to see them somehow transformed into four stubby towers. When had his home become such a squat and ugly thing?
He guided the carriage onward, aiming for the illuminated stable yards that huddled on the right of the courtyard. The wind picked up as he neared, animal waste lending a rank tinge to the ordinary stench of the midden. He held his breath, the tear-inducing odour greater than memory recalled. When he was finally lord of this place, he'd deman
d such things be buried well away from the castle.
His stomach gave an unexpected grumble. He'd not eaten since the deal and the wound in his chest, fast repairing itself, sapped much of his energy. By all rights, he should've sought sustenance first, but he had to get the contract off Ruxandra's father before the man heard of what had transpired tonight. Then he would feed. Perhaps a stray goat would hold off the cravings. There was bound to be one wandering the valley slopes that nobody would miss.
But first, the contract. Ruxandra would become his wife. He hadn't died to let her slip away now.
Chapter One
Winter crept down from the mountains, cloaking the valley in snow thick enough to muffle the steps of a horse and rider. The trees, bowing under their icy burden, allowed little light to reach the path they rode. Neither of them needed much to see by.
Herald let out a sigh, the mist of his breath swirling in the still air. The horse, no doubt grateful to be swathed in thick blankets, mimicked him. The path they plodded was well-known to those living within the valley, the road sleeping beneath the snow worn through centuries of use.
Beyond the valley wasn't as much of a mystery to him as it was to the animal, although he'd little desire to venture out into such hostile lands. To the horse, his only concern was towards food and getting plenty of it. Herald knew the danger of leaving the safety of the valley and, valuing his life, chose not to venture from the world he knew. Although sometimes danger did not wait for them to leave.
That very danger had led to him guarding the only entrance to the fortress and this quiet little valley, effectively blocking the narrow passage. The outer walls were thick and steep, constructed especially to leave no doubt in any attacker's mind that an outright assault would be difficult. For Herald, it also served as a memorial to his brother.
For the first time in years, Herald had been forced to leave his creation after being called back to the castle standing at the other end of the valley. Deformed over time, the grotesque beast of stone and wood loomed before him as dawn neared. The castle sat like a hungry vulture, its main body hugging the ground whilst the towers jabbed at the leaden sky. And like the carrion bird, the castle's belly was never satisfied.
He nudged the horse into the stone-covered courtyard, the animal's hooves ringing sharply on the cobbles. The horse skittered sideways as twin doors slammed behind them. The sound echoed in the enclosed space, bouncing off the buttressed ceiling to hammer at ears that'd grown accustomed to the softer crunch of compacted snow. He halted near the doors to wait as his sight adjusted to the harsher light of the torches.
Whilst other sounds drifted out from within the castle, they were muffled by the oppressing quiet of men and women struggling to remain silent. He sighed as he blinked away the glare and urged the horse onwards. The people in the courtyard eyed him as he dismounted.
Herald scowled in reply, reassuring himself with a finger on his sword hilt. So suspicious. It shouldn't be so. They should know him to be one of them. Like I do? Despite once knowing the names of all who lived in the castle, not a face here looked familiar. Perhaps he truly had been gone too long.
Leading the horse to a nearby hitching ring, he silently began removing the animal's gear. A strangled yelp echoed across the courtyard. His hand froze on the girth buckle, relaxing when a woman scampered to his side, gingerly rubbing her arm.
Her lank hair was coal black, a sharp contrast to the pale-skinned face that bore the angular cheekbones so common in those wandering the valley. "Do you be Herald?" she asked, her high nasal voice grating. He caught a strong odour of unwashed skin as she leant closer, her dark and hungry eyes narrowing at his silence.
Another pushy younger sister. Just what he didn't need on this visit. Was his life doomed to be full of them? Herald pulled the saddle off the horse, using the action to casually step back from the woman. "Does it matter?" he said, the words rasping as he breathed through his mouth in an attempt not to smell her. Did those living in the castle not bathe?
Beside him, the horse snorted, ears pulled back in revulsion.
Anger twisted his sister's gaunt face. She gave a mute snarl, baring chipped fangs.
He smiled back before dumping the saddle into her arms and leaving her standing alone. Leading his mount into the stables, Herald handed the reins over to the man tending to the goats and other horses.
"Good to see you back, my lord," he said, his gruff voice fast swallowed by the silence. Wide hands absently stroked the horse's muzzle. "It's been a while."
Herald inclined his head in acknowledgement. It'd been centuries. "I trust he's in the usual place?" This late into the night, his father would be in need of a drink.
The man grunted, his head lifting in assent, although his attention had fallen to the horse. Knowing the beast to be in capable hands, Herald went to find the man who'd called him home.
He left the courtyard behind to enter what had once been the beginning of the castle. Here, the musty smell of hay and animal filth no longer clogged his senses. Shadows clung to the walls of both room and hall, reluctant to give ground to the light. Torches flared fitfully as he marched by, his boot heels the only sound to be heard as he travelled deeper into the depths of the castle. The way to the dungeons had always been deliberately convoluted, but despite his long absence, he well remembered the route.
The heavy door leading down to the dungeon was barely ajar, enough to show the stairway beyond. His palm pressing against the old wood, he pushed the door open. Below came only silence, punctuated by the snaps of flames as torchlight flickered. From as far back as memory served him, this part of the castle had always felt more alive than any other. Albeit, that life was often full with the wails and pleas emanating from those brought here for his father's amusement.
The sound had chilled him when he was younger, but standing here now, with the absence of the familiar noises sucking at his mind, he was forced to suppress the faint bubbling in his stomach. Could it be the people had given up calling for help? That they'd at last realised begging for release would do no good?
His footsteps rang out as he trotted down the stairs. He hoped the noise would alert those below of his coming. It wasn't wise to surprise anyone down here. He quickly reached the bottom where he halted at the foot of the steps and waited.
The dungeons held more torches than any other part of the castle, but here the light seemed less able to pierce the dark blacker than the underground holding room in the fortress. Although that place did not have the presence of the man stooped before him, he couldn't see how his father could be responsible for the oppressive gloom.
Cloaked in a robe of darkest red, the figure seemed to be no more than an ill-defined, blood-stained boulder. The cloth hid a man who, at the first glance, looked not unlike Herald, although a little taller than he in height. That trait had gone to his brother.
His father straightened as he turned. A dull thud followed, the still body of a woman sprawled at his feet. The head sat backwards on the slender shoulders, her pale face peeking out from under the hem of the robe to stare up at him with empty eyes. The salty aroma of blood sang in the air.
Herald bowed his head, trying hard to avert his gaze from the grotesque image. Dead and dying men were commonplace near the fortress gates—he'd been responsible for the odd corpse during his long life of defending the valley—but dead women were a rarity and the sight never failed to turn his stomach.
"No words for me then, my boy?" A smile touched his father's lips for an instant, exposing the tip of a fang. "Not even a mention of how the fortress fares?"
"You require more from me than a report," Herald said. "Otherwise, you would not have insisted on my presence." He sorely wished his father had even hinted at the purpose behind recalling him to the castle.
His father sighed. "You have been gone long, my son, yet I see your bitterness has not diminished in that time." Crossing the room to a barrel of water, he washed the blood from his face and hands. "I had tho
ught sending you away to wreak your vengeance on those responsible for your brother's death would ease your pain." He swung to face Herald. "Was I wrong?"
The sorrow of losing his only full-blooded sibling had long since gnawed its way into Herald's soul. Hearing his father speak of Harbinger had the memory of his twin's death flooded back from the shallow grave in which it lay. It was the first time he'd seen proper battle and bloodshed outside the Unborn Realm. There were many in this valley that he shared half of his parentage with, but he could never have the same bond with them that he'd had with his brother. These people were mere strangers when compared to the connection he had lost. If it hadn't been for his father, his family, he would've succumbed to grief long ago.
The fortress was now his brother. Defending the valley had become his life and had been so for centuries. He longed to return to its windowless walls, to continue his duty of protecting his family. "What is it you want with me?"
Anger glittered in his father's eyes, eyes that were little more than black orbs floating in the pale face. Did Herald also have the same eyes? He was well aware he bore the man's natural colouring in hair and skin, as well as the angular cheekbones of his mother, Ruxandra. Beyond asking another, he'd never know if his eyes had attained the complete black of his father's. It wasn't as if he could look in a mirror. The castle held few reflective surfaces and even then, he'd never possessed a reflection.
"There is something rather precious up in the east tower." The words bore no trace of anger, just the smooth, calm tone he always used. That same voice had been known to reduce men to little more than drinking vessels. "I want you to guard it for me."
Herald shuddered at the thought of being in one of the cold and draughty tower rooms. A man could catch his death up there. Whoever had built the walls hadn't seemed to do so with the purpose of keeping the winter wind out. And, whilst the stairways in all of the towers were long, the passage up the eastern one was the tallest. "If it needs guarding, then why don't you bring it down here?" There were plenty of rooms better suited to harbouring a treasure.