The Rise of the Dawnstar

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  The Rise of the Dawnstar

  Farah Oomerbhoy

  Wise Ink Creative Publishing

  Minneapolis

  THE RISE OF THE DAWNSTAR © copyright 2017 by Farah Oomerbhoy. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, by photography or xerography or by any other means, by broadcast or transmission, by translation into any kind of language, nor by recording electronically or otherwise, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in critical articles or reviews.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63489-934-5

  eISBN 13: 978-1-63489-933-8

  Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2017931500

  Cover design by Scarlett Rugers

  Interior design by Kim Morehead

  Wise Ink Creative Publishing

  837 Glenwood Ave.

  Minneapolis, MN 55405

  www.wiseinkpub.com

  To my mother, for always believing in me.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Avalonia

  Prologue

  1. The Journey Begins

  2. Briarwood Castle

  3. Fugitive

  4. Masquerade

  5. The Archmage of Avalonia

  6. Aurora Firedrake

  7. The Starfire

  8. The Pirate Prince

  9. The Legend of the Dawnstar

  10. The Drakaar

  11. Tristan Nightshade

  12. Iris

  13. The Crystal Castle

  14. The High Fae

  15. The Ancient Fae

  16. The Fae Codex

  17. The House of Eos-Eirendil

  18. Secrets

  19. The Elder Council

  20. The Temple

  21. The Alkana

  22. The Betrothal

  23. Traitor

  24. The Book of Abraxas

  25. Illaria’s Chamber

  26. The Heir of Illaria Lightbringer

  27. The Rise of the Dawnstar

  28. The Winds of Change

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “Why is the girl still alive, Lucian?” asked a woman’s voice from a shadowy corner.

  “I’m working on it, my queen.” The Archmage of Avalonia swept into the darkened room, his black mage robes, bordered with gold, billowing around him as he walked. Broad-shouldered and regal in his bearing, he raised his right hand; the damp fireplace flared to life, warming the cold stone floor.

  The queen of Illiador sat in a red velvet chair, staring into the flames that illuminated her heart-shaped face. The windows were shut against the cold air that had started blowing down from the north, and a dark mist swirled outside as the wind howled, racing through the kingdoms of Avalonia, heralding the coming of winter.

  “Then where is she?” Morgana snarled, rising slowly from her high-backed chair and turning to face the archmage. Her obsidian hair was loose and tangled and her emerald eyes were bloodshot.

  Lucian bowed and his eyes narrowed as he addressed Morgana. “We have no idea. It is proving impossible to find her with magic. As long as she wears the Amulet of Auraken, I cannot determine her whereabouts.”

  “Yes, I know. But surely there are other ways to find her?”

  “Not with magic.”

  “Then find her without magic,” Morgana hissed.

  The archmage’s jaw tightened. “I have spies everywhere, looking for the princess. The last we heard, she left the Summer Palace in the dark of night. That was days ago—by now she could be anywhere in the seven kingdoms.”

  Morgana clasped her hands together and started pacing in front of the fireplace. “She won’t get far on a normal horse; at least she doesn’t have the added advantage of a pegasus anymore.”

  Lucian coughed and looked down.

  Morgana’s eyebrows rose. “What are you not telling me, Lucian?”

  “There was an incident in the ruins, after you, um, left. My sources say the princess healed the pegasus.”

  “How is that possible? The pegasus was dead, I saw it with my own eyes.” Morgana paused as she assessed the archmage. “Is her healing power so great?”

  “I believe it is. She has the blood of the immortal fae running through her veins. You know how powerful their healers are, and she is stronger still. My sources say the healing she performed on that day was something no one has ever seen before.”

  Morgana seemed utterly unimpressed. “The Shadow Guard were supposed to kill the pegasus and the princess, but they failed.” Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you had trained them all personally? How can a little chit of a girl defeat the deadliest warriors of Illiador?”

  “She is too strong,” the archmage said, his face almost feral at the thought of the girl who had evaded them for over fifteen years. “The more she uses her magic, the more her power grows. There is no mage who can stand in her way now.”

  “Rubbish!” The flames in the fireplace leapt and danced as Morgana’s anger flared. “There is always a way.”

  Lucian didn’t blink an eye. “Whatever you say, my queen.”

  She flashed him a glare. “And what news is there from Eldoren? Are you sure your sister and her husband know what they’re doing?”

  Lucian nodded. “The Blackwaters will take over the throne of Eldoren as you have commanded. The plans are already set in motion.”

  “That is not enough,” Morgana snapped. “I want Prince Rafael dead as well. The Ravenswood dynasty supports Aurora, and none must be allowed to survive. We will strip her of all her allies and her friends. Without proper guidance, the girl is likely to destroy herself. Then we will strike when she is at her weakest.”

  “What about Izadora? The fae queen will never bow to your rule, you know.”

  She gave Lucian a pointed look. “Izadora will have no choice, once I am done with her. My plans concerning Elfi are already underway. You just make sure Aurora never reaches her grandmother’s kingdom.”

  Lucian shook his head. “Forget her, Morgana.” He came closer and put his hand on her shoulder. “She is weak and foolish. She doesn’t have it in her to be queen. Like you said, she will eventually destroy herself. Concentrate on taking over the other kingdoms first. Once you are crowned High Queen of Avalonia, Aurora Firedrake will become a memory.”

  “I want her dead, Lucian.” Morgana moved away from him and turned to face the flames, dismissing the archmage with a wave of her hand. “I should have called for the Drakaar assassins much earlier. They will find her and kill her, even if you can’t.”

  The archmage’s spine stiffened. “But, Your Majesty, the Drakaar are not to be trusted. They will extract a high price for this—remember what happened after you hired them to kill Azaren.” He paused and took a step closer, lowering the tone of his voice. “Morgana, let me find the girl. I will not fail, just give me more time.”

  The queen turned back around to face him. “There is no more time, Lucian. The people have already heard she is alive. You told me yourself rebel factions have sprung up all over Illiador and are searching for her too. We must find her before those troublemakers who call themselves the Silver Swords do. They are the last remnants of Azaren’s supporters, and I want them gone. Burn the forests where they take cover, and scorch the villages and towns that conceal them. If anyone is found supporting Aurora, they must be made examples of. My niece must have no place to go, nowhere to hide. Then we will strike and make her wish she had never been born a Firedrake.”

  The archmage bowed, his eyes like shards of cold steel. “It will be done, my queen.”

  “See that it is.” Morgana gazed into the dancing fire. “If I want to bec
ome High Queen over all the seven kingdoms, Aurora Firedrake must die.”

  1

  The Journey Begins

  I turned over in my bed of damp moss and fallen leaves as muted sunlight shone through the trees and woke me to another day. The earthy fragrances of the forest floor lingered as dewdrops danced in the cool morning breeze, dazzling the woods with a myriad of colors, spectacular in the light of first dawn. The weather had become colder as winter drew near—I pulled my thin blanket snugly around me, not ready to get up just yet.

  Rafe was sitting on a large rock, his gray eyes intent as he sharpened his sword. I gazed at him, my eyes still half shut. He was wearing a plain white shirt with the top few buttons open, dark leather pants, and high boots, with his customary dagger strapped to his leg. He smiled when he looked up and saw I was awake.

  “Happy birthday!” He put down his sword and came to squat down beside me. His dark hair framed his chiseled jaw, and he looked exactly the same as when I had first seen him so many months ago in the dungeons of Oblek’s gloomy castle.

  I smiled up at him, his big shadow blocking out the sun.

  “How did you know it was my birthday?” Even I didn’t know the exact date.

  He chuckled. “Everyone in Illiador and beyond knows when your birthday is, Aurora. There are some villages and towns in your father’s kingdom that still celebrate it as a holiday.”

  “Oh!” I blushed as I sat up. “I didn’t know.” I looked around. “Where’s Kalen?”

  Rafe stood up. “Our little fae friend has gone to get you a birthday breakfast. He should be back at any moment. Come,” he gave me his hand. “We should be on our way soon. We’re camped too close to the village as it is.”

  “Give me a minute.” I pulled myself up and brushed twigs and leaves off my dress.

  Rafe reached over and plucked a few out of my hair.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. I must have looked a sight. I washed my face in a pond nearby and gargled with water infused with mint leaves.

  The bushes rustled and Kalen came charging into the clearing where we had camped for the night. Runaway strands of ash blond hair stuck to his forehead as he huffed and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “There you are.”

  Rafe turned immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  “I heard the village guards talking at the market. They are telling everyone to keep a lookout for the both of you. Anyone found helping you will be arrested by order of the king.”

  Rafe swore softly and immediately started saddling the horses. “We need to leave now. My father’s guards won’t be far behind.”

  It had been ten days since Rafe had led us through the secret passage and out of the city of Neris. Resourceful as ever, he had procured three horses and led us, without incident, to the foot of the Sunrise Hills, further east into the heart of the kingdom of Eldoren.

  Our journey took us along the Emerald Coast, and we slept outdoors, skirting small villages along the way. Many had cozy, comfortable inns, beckoning us to stay and enjoy the quiet serenity of the little villages, but we didn’t dare go inside for fear of being noticed. Most of the time we hid in the woods, and only Kalen could go into the nearby farmhouses and village markets to buy food for us while we waited like criminals, hiding amongst the trees and living on the outskirts of civilization.

  Our pace was slow; we took back roads and hidden forest paths, constantly stopping and hiding from the guards that patrolled the main trade routes. Market wagons and farmers littered the narrow dirt roads, so we disguised ourselves as poor travellers, blending into the surrounding countryside. Rafe had carefully concealed his weapons under a worn brown cloak Kalen had procured for him at the last market we passed.

  ***

  At the end of the next day, we rode through the open gates of Roth, a little town not that different from those I had seen before in northern Eldoren. Small, unplanned streets and rickety wooden houses were crammed together at the edge of the forest that extended into the hills, looming like dark shadows in the distance.

  “We will stop here for the night.” Rafe turned his horse into a cobbled alleyway that led into darkness.

  I spurred my horse forward and followed, passing cloaked figures who hurried through the streets, eager to get out of the chill—a biting wind had started blowing in from the north. I tried to maneuver my horse closer to Rafe’s, but I could barely see a few feet ahead of me through the thick fog.

  “What if we are recognized by someone?” I clutched the reins with one hand and pulled my cloak tighter around me. “Isn’t it too risky?”

  “Keep your hood on,” said Rafe. “This is the only way to get the information we need. Once we have it, we will leave this town before anyone notices us.”

  “Are we meeting someone here?”

  Rafe nodded. “Marcus Gold. I’ve known him since I was a boy. He may be a shady character, but he’s safe and avoids the authorities even better than we do. In any case, he’s the only one I know who can give us information about the dagger. We need some sort of plan if we are going to steal it from Morgana. The more we know about it the better.” He spurred his horse forward. “Follow me.”

  We stopped in front of a tavern that desperately needed a fresh coat of paint and didn’t look quite as inviting as the Dancing Daisy Inn, where we had stayed when we were passing through the town of Greystone on our way to Evolon. Still, I hoped I would finally get a real bed to sleep in that night.

  Groaning, I maneuvered myself off the horse, and Rafe came over to help me down. I was exhausted and my thighs were chafed and aching from riding for what seemed like months.

  “Go on.” Kalen took the reins from me. “I’ll water down the horses and meet you inside.”

  I smiled at him gratefully, handed him the reins, and followed Rafe into the inn.

  The main hall of the tavern was full of rowdy men and women who looked and smelled like they hadn’t had a bath for days. Some were playing dice at the tables, their eyes intent and their pockets getting emptier by the minute. Others were drowning their sorrows drinking at the bar. All the tables were packed with people chatting around frothy mugs of ale and eating the sumptuous tavern fare.

  No one paid us any attention, but I still fiddled with the hood of my cloak, making sure my features were covered. The innkeeper passed by me with a huge wooden tray; the delicious smell of freshly baked bread reminded me I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and I was absolutely starving.

  Rafe moved toward the far end of the room, where a man was sitting at a table in the corner, his hood over his head. He spotted Rafe almost immediately and waved us over.

  Rafe sat down on the bench and introduced me to the small, thin man before me. “Marcus, I presume I don’t need to tell you who she is?”

  Marcus shook his head and pulled back his hood. His skin was a warm dusky color and he had a thin mustache over a small goatee, which, in my opinion, made him look a bit like a musketeer.

  “It is a great honor to meet you,” Marcus said, his voice low but clear. His eyes were shrewd and bright, and they twinkled as he glanced at my amulet, which I hadn’t realized was showing.

  I smiled at him and tucked it back into my tunic. I had to be more careful; the Amulet of Auraken was the one thing that identified me without a doubt.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered some food while I was waiting?” Marcus said, when the innkeeper brought three steaming wooden bowls of stew to our table, accompanied by a basket of hot bread and a golden-crusted meat pie for us to share.

  “Thank you, Marcus.” Rafe picked up the knife and started cutting up the pie. “Go on, Aurora, you must be famished. I know I am.”

  “I believe you have an interest in procuring what us Brandorians refer to as the Dark Dagger,” Marcus said, leaning forward and getting straight to the point while Rafe and I ate.

  I nodded with my mouth full.

  “We think Morgana has it, but we need to know more about how it works an
d how the curse can be broken,” Rafe elaborated.

  Marcus seemed to find this amusing and smiled to himself before he answered. “You plan to break the demon curse on the Dagger of Dragath?”

  Rafe did not seem amused in the slightest. “That is why we are here, Marcus. Now, is there a way or isn’t there?”

  “There might be.” Marcus rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands, fiddling with his wispy beard.

  I stopped eating. “And?”

  “I have no idea what it is. There is only one person who might know how it can be done.”

  My face fell. This supposed expert didn’t know how to deal with the Dagger of Dragath. “Who?”

  “Constantine Redgrave,” Marcus replied.

  Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “But Constantine Redgrave is dead.”

  “That’s what everyone thinks,” Marcus retorted, fiddling with his beard again. “I have seen him with my own eyes. Constantine Redgrave is still alive and living in exile in Brandor.”

  I tried to remember my history lessons. “I’ve read about him at Evolon. He was Archmage during my grandfather’s rule, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes!” replied Rafe. “He was your grandfather’s right-hand man, and loyal to your father. If he is still alive he will definitely help us. He is the foremost authority on Dragath and demons. If anyone knows how to break the curse on the dagger, it’s him. He was supposed to have died on the same day as your father, the day Morgana took over the throne of Illiador. He must have escaped the massacre at the Star Palace.”

  Marcus nodded. “Redgrave knows the Star Palace at Nerenor like the back of his hand, and must have discovered a secret way out. If you intend to break into Morgana’s palace and steal the dagger, you are going to need his help. I have heard he is working as the mastermage of the Library of Sanria. He now goes by the name Diego Ramirez.”

  “How do you know all this?” I was not completely sure if I should trust him blindly, though Rafe seemed to. “And why should I believe you?”