Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  He turned to leave. The doors shook beneath his touch as he opened them, the lightborn struggling against the constraints and tubes. Perhaps she could wrest free, but Johan had no fear of her, not in such a weakened state. Besides, in doing so she’d send all of Weshern crashing to the ocean, dooming tens of thousands. Given her sentimentality, he doubted she’d ever perform such a sacrifice.

  “You cannot do this!” L’fae shouted as the entire room quaked.

  “Who will stop me?” Johan asked, spinning about, a hand on each door. “No one. Not you enslaved lightborn, not the pathetic remnants of humanity’s military, not even God himself. Scream all you wish. No one will hear you. No one even knows of your existence. Suffer here in the tomb of your own creation, in what little time you have left before I bury it beneath the waves.”

  L’fae screamed. No words, just emotions. Hatred. Fury. Helplessness.

  Johan shut the door to them all.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I’m just going to come right out and say it: writing this story terrified me. With Skyborn, I purposefully tried to hide or downplay the fantastical elements. Yes, I know, I had people flying and throwing fireballs in a world where the sky burns with fire every night, but those things had a bit of mystery to them. You didn’t know what the prisms were, only that they worked. You didn’t know why the fire hid the stars, only that it did. It’s always easier to satisfy while building up the mystery, for readers are so very good at coming up with their own theories. As Stephen King put it, the monster in the closet is always scarier than the one that’s plain before you. So with Fireborn, here I was, yanking back the curtain. Time to reveal the source of the prisms, the power behind the Founts, the reason for the midnight fire. It’s the “tada!” moment, my arms up in the air, waiting for either thunderous applause or awkward disappointment.

  We writers tend to be more of the neurotic sort, so you can guess which one I was more afraid would happen while trying to get the words to cooperate.

  Personally, looking back over the story as I edited and rewrote parts, I’m quite happy with it. I wanted the lightborn to be overwhelming in their size and presence, and I think I pulled that off. The flashback of the Ascension in particular was a ton of fun to write. It’s not often you get to blow up a world (though readers of my other books might kindly like to point out it’s not the first time for yours truly). And getting to write from some new POVs, particularly Johan’s, was a nice breath of fresh air. I really do loves me a good villain, and now that he’s out in the open, I’m going to have a blast in Shadowborn.

  So now the series I tried to begin with a more solid foundation and rules for its magic, a story more “grounded,” if you would allow me to make a most terrible pun, has demons and angels (maybe?) and magical blood and fireborn giants and an ageless destroyer seeking to wipe out humanity. Compared to the more YA-ish first book, with much of its events taking place at the academy, this is certainly more my style. Hopefully I kept you all entertained, and if my reveals weren’t as awesome as what you imagined, well, I pray they were close.

  Quick thanks: Rob, for helping me flesh out the backstory for the various eternal-born; Tommy, for the ridiculously awesome cover art; and my editor, Devi, who’s still waiting for me to kill her character off. Which should still happen. Maybe.

  And of course, my most heartfelt thanks to you, dear reader. I’ve done my best to take you for a ride, and I hope together we had a ball. If you enjoyed, tell others, share this book with friends, write reviews, and do all that stuff that means the world to me, and enables me to keep doing what I love most: telling stories. Until next time, I’ll be waiting for you at the end of Shadowborn.

  David Dalglish

  January 4, 2016

  extras

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Mike Scott

  DAVID DALGLISH currently lives in rural Missouri with his wife, Samantha, and daughters Morgan, Katherine, and Alyssa. He graduated from Missouri Southern State University in 2006 with a degree in mathematics and currently spends his free time leaping around as a giant intelligent gorilla in Overwatch.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  FIREBORN,

  look out for

  SHADOWBORN

  Seraphim: Book Three

  by David Dalglish

  Lord Commander Alexander Essex stood atop the ramparts of the castle overlooking the blue ocean. The sun shone bright on his dark skin. He smiled and felt alive. A few miles beyond the edge of the rocky shore, the Oceanic Wall quivered, its translucent surface cracking with a thousand silver spiderwebs.

  “The theotechs estimate the wall will collapse before the week’s end,” First Seraph Kaster said, climbing the stone steps to join him on the rampart. His armor, like Alexander’s, shone a brilliant gold in the sunlight.

  “And what does Y’vah say of this?” Alexander asked.

  “The lightborn says nothing.” Kaster shook his head. “I don’t think he has the strength to.”

  A grin pulled at the right half of Alexander’s mouth. He turned and clasped Kaster’s armored shoulder with his hand.

  “Let it fall now,” he said, and he gestured across the shoreline. “What does it matter when we have such power ready for L’adim’s monsters? They’ll never even reach a single stone of this castle.”

  Kaster said nothing. Alexander pulled him closer, facing him west. The castle was built upon a high cliff, but below them to the east, the shore was smooth, the waves having won their war against the stone over the centuries. Golden-armored men scrambled about it like ants, and farther inland, tents formed a haphazard city. There were five thousand men armed with the finest spears and shields Europa had ever crafted, but it was beyond that front line his pride and joy waited.

  “The shadowborn has never faced the likes of our dragoons,” Alexander said. “Let him come, and we shall crush him beneath our heel.”

  Still Kaster did not respond. Alexander sensed an uneasy question lurking within him, and he had no patience for it on this fine day.

  “What bothers you?” he asked. “Spit it out already before it eats a hole in your stomach.”

  “Commander...there are many wondering if we should use the time before the Oceanic Wall collapses to retreat farther in.”

  “Retreat?” Alexander asked, stepping closer. “And where shall we retreat to?”

  “Just a few dozen miles inland, toward Odeon.” Kaster said, refusing to back down. “If we can meet up with Commander Torman and unite Y’vah with Gh’aro, together our forces will...”

  “Our forces will hold their ground here, where the terrain is favorable and our supplies plentiful.” Alexander snorted. “Besides, Commander Torman is an idiot, a member of the Appeasers before this war started. How he’s kept his position after that, I don’t know.” He glared at the cracking wall. “We will not appease those monsters and their shadowborn master. We will grind them to ash and crystal, and build our world anew with their blood.”

  Kaster bowed low. “As you wish,” he said. “Am I dismissed?”

  Alexander waved him off. He had more to do than worry about the minor rumblings of fear from the more cowardly soldiers under his command. Arms crossed over his chest, he turned east, his smile growing. The castle had been considered a relic of wartime past, but now its sturdy walls would be of great use. And atop those walls, numbering ten, with twenty more on the beach below, waited his dragoons, magnificent structures sprung forth from the combined minds of himself and Y’vah’s escort of theotechs.

  “Come get us, you bastard,” Alexander whispered. “We’re ready.”

  Fire swarmed across the Oceanic Wall, punctuated by the enormous cracks that spread for thousands of feet whenever something struck the other side. With night fallen, that fire, and the shield struggling to hold against it, was more than enough to clearly see the thousands of soldiers forming defensive lines across the beachhead. Alexander wondered what might be large enough
to cause such impact. With demons, one never knew for certain their form, let alone their size.

  “Are your Seraphim ready?” he asked Kaster, who patiently waited beside him.

  “We are.”

  “Then take to the skies, and ready your elements. Make them suffer long before setting foot on dry land.”

  “Will you not watch from the castle?” Kaster asked.

  “Here is where I belong. Now go, and ensure your stone casters do not forget their role.”

  “They will not,” Kaster said, bowing. “May the angels ever watch over you, Commander.”

  “No angels will take me tonight,” Alexander said. “And none are coming for you, either. L’adim’s here, and we’re putting an end to this war here and now.”

  Kaster’s wings shimmered brightly, and with a deep, pleasant hum he lifted to the skies to join the one hundred others of Europa’s 2nd Seraphim division. Their wings shone like golden stars in the night sky, and their glow strengthened Alexander’s resolve. But nothing strengthened it like the presence of his dragoons.

  Alexander walked toward the twenty dragoons lined in neat rows behind the shield wall at the beachhead, stopping at the nearest. The machine was a culmination of two years of work, a grand creation of gold and steel. The bottom was spherical, and it shimmered white from the power of five light prisms embedded within the protective metal that kept it afloat. The rest resembled a chariot, with an open space in the center for the driver. The upper half of a golden dragon was carved across the front, legs reared up, mouth open in a snarl. On either side of the opening, braced to the metallic chariot, were cannons shaped like the naval weapons of old.

  A pale bare-chested man sat in the dragoon’s cushioned middle, five tubes sunk into his back. His blood flowed through the clear tubes, traveling to the ten elemental prisms powering each of the two cannons. A seeing eyeglass was strapped to a pole beside his head to aid with aiming such long distances. Iron clamps around his waist kept him steady. The contraption left no room for his legs, so they’d been surgically removed upon the man’s acceptance of such a crucial role in the war against the shadowborn.

  “Are you ready, Adrian?” Alexander asked.

  The man lowered his head as a respectful gesture.

  “We have all suffered much,” Adrian said. “Now is our time to give it back.”

  The commander grinned.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Alexander patted the side of the dragoon lovingly, eager to see its full fury unleashed. Soon. So very soon.

  Alexander joined the rest of his army in watching the assault upon the protective dome. L’adim’s army raged upon the other side, flinging its might against the lightborn’s defenses. The silver cracks spread wider and wider, so thick they appeared frozen bolts of lightning. A deafening screech of glass scraping glass emitted from the wall, coupled with what sounded like ice breaking atop a frozen lake.

  And then the wall broke. A deep rumble replaced its glow, strong enough to rattle bones. Wind blasted across the water, angering the surface and knocking loose helmets off Alexander’s soldiers. The great burning fire fell to the water, momentarily extinguished, but its fall revealed the vast demon horde, so numerous it took Alexander’s breath away.

  The iceborn led the way, dozens of giants twenty feet high lumbering across the ocean. With every step the water froze, granting passage to the army that followed. Among them came the stoneborn, even taller than the iceborn, vicious creatures made up of boulders cracking and twisting together into a humanoid shape. The fireborn and stormborn lurked behind, awaiting their moment.

  Alexander raised his arm, and he shouted his command. Few would hear his voice, but they’d hear the song of the dragoons.

  “Adrian!” he shouted. “Show them humanity’s anger!”

  The rider put his hands to the controls. The light beneath his dragoon brightened as the vehicle lifted higher into the air. Crackling sounds swelled from within the cannons, power building, building, until Adrian released it with a single press of a button. Twin blasts of lightning burst forward in great swirling beams, erupting with such power the dragoon rocked backward several feet. The beams dwarfed any a single Seraph could manage, with power Alexander knew nothing could withstand.

  The lightning blasts struck the center of an iceborn giant, and it roared as its body shattered. Thick chunks of ice fell to the frozen ocean, blue blood flowing in streams down its waist and legs. The thing managed a single step before collapsing to its knees and falling still.

  Even amid all the chaos, Alexander could hear the cheers of his soldiers at the demon’s demise. The battle begun, the rest of the dragoons unleashed their fury. Streams of lightning and fire shredded the iceborn, melting limbs and blasting holes through their elemental bodies. Ice and stone struck the stoneborn, cracking the boulders of their bodies and ripping off limbs so that their blood splashed across the ocean surface. The ten dragoons atop the nearby castle joined in, assaulting the fireborn and stormborn lurking behind the initial wave of giants. The frozen ocean steadily cracked from the assault, and the blasts that missed the stoneborn were often still enough to send them below the icy surface. All in all, it was a blinding display, with Alexander forced to shield his eyes to have any hope of watching the battle unfold.

  Still the giants came, though far fewer in number. The first of the iceborn touched shore, and it howled as twin beams of fire slammed its neck and face, flowing over it for several seconds. Its upper half melted, and it dropped dead to the hard ground. But the way was finally clear, and with a sudden surge the fireborn and stormborn rushed past the dying giants to the shore, eager to battle the thousands of men with their shields and spears.

  Now’s your time, Alexander thought, looking to the sky. Kaster’s Seraphim swirled above the battlefield, and with the coming horde of smaller demons, fifteen of them dropped low, performing a single strafing. Stone flowed from their gauntlets in steady streams, forming a three-foot-high wall that protected the entirety of the shoreline. Alexander’s soldiers rushed to it upon completion, spears thrusting over the defensive fortification at the incoming tide.

  The first few moments of battle were a slaughter, and not in the demon’s favor. The fireborn and stormborn flung themselves into a wall of stone and spears, having to climb one and avoid the other to even begin their attack. Their speed was their only advantage, but with five thousand men pressed shoulder to shoulder, shields always at the ready, there was no room for the demons to pass, no way to dodge. The blood of demons spilled before the stone wall, slowly hardening as thousands rushed before it and died.

  Alexander’s smile grew as his dragoons continued to sing. Giants still littered the horizon, a number that would have terrified any regular force of ground troops, but they meant nothing now. His dragoons would crush them before they ever neared his soldiers. His Seraphim circled in constant strafing runs, blasting the smaller demons with their elements while leaving the giants for the dragoons.

  Slowly men died along the barricade, but with each one that fell another was waiting to take his place. There would be no break in the shields, no gap in the defenses for the demons to exploit. This was it, their breaking point. Despite the countless lost battles other nations suffered, the proud men of Europa would show the world how it was done. It was all a matter of escalation. Soldiers weren’t enough. Seraphim weren’t enough. Machines of war, the greatest mankind had ever seen, were the necessary tools. The dragoon launched another terrifying volley of lightning, and Alexander smiled proudly at his creation.

  The dragoons were but the beginning. Now that his original concept had proven superior on the battlefield, there would be architects and theotechs flocking to his aid. How much grander might these war machines grow? What of one piloted by several men, all with different elemental affinities? Gun platforms, airships manned by hundreds of Seraphim, grand cannons rolling on wheels...there’d be no limit. L’adim’s rebellion would be crushed, and through the ho
rrors of war, amazing new inventions would emerge for the betterment of mankind.

  A strange rumble stole Alexander’s attention back to the battlefield atop the frozen ocean. The bulk of the demons were in retreat, something that hardly surprised Alexander, but it was the iceborn giants that confused him. They stood still, collapsing in on themselves, breaking as if from within.

  “What’s happening?” Alexander asked Adrian.

  The dragoon rider pressed his face to the eyeglass and held it there.

  “They’re splitting apart,” he shouted over the chorus of dragoon fire. “It looks like they’re becoming dozens of iceborn, if not hundreds.”

  Alexander stared at the battlefield, contemplating. If the iceborn giants were suddenly numerous and small, it’d nullify the effect of his dragoons. A clever strategy, but it’d only make them weaker to the Seraphim strafing them from above. And why just the iceborn? The stoneborn continued their lumbering approach. True, the stoneborn were more resistant to the dragoon barrages, but they still broke and died. Why not change as well?

  “Commander?”

  Alexander turned his attention back to Adrian, and he didn’t like the worried look on the rider’s face one bit.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Adrian squinted into the spyglass.

  “A shadow’s coming.”

  So L’adim would finally make his appearance, right as his army was being destroyed. This sounded excellent to Alexander, not worrisome.

  “Where from?” he asked, thinking his dragoons could concentrate fire on the shadowborn.

  Adrian pulled away, and he shook his head.

  “Everywhere.”

  “Every...?”

  Alexander grabbed the edge of the dragoon and pulled himself up. Adrian backed away as best he could to make room. Shifting himself half onto the seat, Alexander looked through the eyeglass, though truth be told the shadow had grown so close he didn’t need the aid. Adrian was right. It didn’t approach from any direction. Instead, roaring dozens of feet high from horizon to horizon came a tsunami of shadow.