Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “This is completely uncouth behavior,” Kirk hissed as he followed through the door. “Haven’t you any morals?”

  Otho slowed his pace when they were out of the light of the tavern. He turned around slowly, spearing Kirk with narrowed eyes. His face was grim. “Does Neetra? How about Liro Adelwijn? It’s time to stop playing nice. Nice will only get you so far, and it won’t solve anything. It’s probably too late as it is. You heard the Aldino loon. The High Council is a lost cause.”

  Kirk shook his head. He couldn’t accept that. He’d never accept it was too late. Not while he still had breath in his body. “No matter how insurmountable the wall appears, there has to be a way over it.”

  Pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders, Otho glared into the shadowed alley. “Then you best prepare for the climb of your life. There’s a battle brewing. And I’m not talking about the one in Shiraz. Neetra’s got all his pieces aligned. I’m not sure if there’s time for the opposition to rally theirs.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A hundred glowing pinpricks flickered in the far distance. As the last rays of sun faded from the eventide sky, the alabaster city darkened, casting the illusion that the torches along the parapets were unbound and floating freely in the darkness.

  Tahir’s great outer wall rose out of the sand like the Gods themselves had willed it. Its shadowy outline loomed on the horizon, so high only the topmost peaks of the temples within the city were visible.

  Hasain could feel bleakness festering in his guts and crawling its way up the back of his throat. Tahir’s fortifications were higher than Silver City’s. Even though the Ardenian army outnumbered Shiraz’s a hundred to one, how would they ever breach the city? They’d starve before the enemy came out from behind their stone walls.

  The nighttime air was hot, with no breeze to bring relief. Lifting a wineskin to his parched lips, Hasain drank earnestly. Maybe if he drowned his fears with ale, he’d be able to sleep tonight. It might very well be the last sleep he ever got.

  He corked the canteen and turned his back to the distant city. He couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore.

  The eve of battle leeched into Hasain’s bones like poison in the vein. All around him, soldiers hastened, inspecting their armor and sharpening their weapons. Some were doing drills on the outskirts of the camp, practicing over and over until their limbs shook with exertion and they finally wandered back to their sleeping mats to rest. Others merely sat around their fires, eating what could be their last meal and talking in muted voices to their comrades. They spoke of their families, the miserable heat, and the journey home but little of the impending battle. No one wanted to talk about that.

  Hasain took another swig from the wineskin and glanced over his shoulder. The door flaps of the command tent were still drawn tight, offering relative privacy while the war council strategized for the morrow. Koal had been in there for marks now. Morathi, too.

  Tular and Deegan stood outside. Tular was adjusting the prince’s armor while they waited for the fire to roast a wild hare Nawaz had brought them earlier. It had been a lucky catch. Normally the sounds of the army scared the wildlife off, making hunting nearly impossible.

  Hasain’s stomach gurgled as the scent of the broiling meat reached him. Hunger tore at his insides. Like a faithful companion, it never left him these days. Even with the army pillaging, there was still too little food to go around. Three days ago, Koal had ordered two of the oxen be slain. They’d already lost a dozen or more horses. Rations had been cut in half twice. They couldn’t survive much longer without food. They needed to take Tahir or perish.

  Hasain brought the wineskin to his lips again, watching as Deegan unsheathed his sword and practiced swinging it. The image was chilling: a reminder of what could no longer be avoided.

  Somehow, throughout the journey here—despite ambushes, skirmishes, and pilfering—the prince and his guardians had remained removed from the worst of the trouble. They’d been granted relative safety by staying near Koal.

  Tomorrow though, there would be no avoiding battle. Deegan would ride with the rest of the army, and all of their fates would be decided. They’d survive, or they wouldn’t.

  The command tent flaps rustled, and men made their way outside. Their faces were grim as they dispersed into the camp. Hasain watched them, trying to get his choppy breaths under control. Time was moving too fast. The meeting was already over. If he even closed his eyes but for a moment, dawn might break across the horizon. He wasn’t ready for this.

  “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

  Hasain whirled around, eyes impossibly wide as he searched fruitlessly for the demon. Where was it? Why couldn’t he see it?

  “You might want to stop flailing before someone thinks you’ve gone mad.”

  “Where are you?” he asked faintly. His heart hammered so hard he feared his ribs might crack.

  “Hasain, you should know by now I’m always with you. I’m in your feeble heart and your treacherous mind. Don’t tell me you can’t feel me.”

  Clutching his head in his hands, Hasain staggered over to a supply crate and sank down onto it. He couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t make the world cease its spinning.

  Leviticus was right. Hasain felt the demon inside, like a shadow creeping over his heart. He was never truly alone anymore. The realization gripped him tightly, making him gasp in terror. Is this what his father had dealt with his entire life? How had Rishi not gone mad?

  “Go away!” he choked. Desperation added unintended volume to his words.

  “You might lower your voice as well, unless you want everyone to suspect your insanity. Though, I suppose you could use that as an excuse to stay safely behind the lines of battle tomorrow.”

  Hasain slammed his eyes shut as if doing so could somehow hold the demon at bay. “Stop talking.”

  Leviticus cackled. “Oh, you’re such a pathetic thing. You know, I could help you. You wouldn’t have to be brave with me to do your bidding. There’s still a chance to avoid war.”

  Hasain shook his head. Impossible. Morathi had seen to that. Nearly all the soldiers who marched now did so willingly. They wanted to face the Shirites in battle.

  “The general is a fallible man, Hasain. He’s not invincible.”

  Locking his jaw, Hasain did his best to ignore the demon’s invitation, but his resolve was dangerously close to crumbling. How had Rishi disregarded Leviticus for so many years? How could any man ignore such sweet promises?

  “Had he not rejected my help the last time I came to him, Rishi Radek would still be alive today. Will you make the same choice, Hasain? Will you turn me away tonight and allow Deegan to meet his doom tomorrow?”

  Lies. His father had said never to listen to the demon’s lies. But what if Leviticus really could help?

  Hasain’s jaw tightened further. If he lived to see the end of this damned war, he’d have to break down and talk to someone. But who?

  Not Koal. Hasain was afraid to talk to Koal. Despite being Rishi’s most trusted friend and confidant, the seneschal had never forged such a bond with Hasain.

  “Koal Adelwijn is as soft as your sire. He’ll never take the necessary path.”

  Marc was hardly a viable option. King Rishi had trusted the dean perhaps too much.

  “A clown. Is this the best you have?”

  Aodan! Aodan would know what to do—if he wasn’t banished before the army returned, that was. Aodan knew firsthand about the legacy of the red stone. He must know how to stop the demon.

  “Don’t be so sure about that. I still don’t know why that mongrel’s given so much credit.”

  Hasain bit the inside of his cheek, eyes swooping around the clearing. He so desperately wanted to call for help. He could feel his resolution slipping away, like sand through the fingers.

  Tular and Deegan edged around the campfire, engaged in a battle drill. Soft grunts lifted around them as each tried to best the other. Nearby, Joel’s robes stood out
against the dark backdrop of tents. He shuffled through a satchel of runestones, meticulously checking each to make certain they were charged. Natori sat beside him, donned in plate armor. Her head was down as she sharpened her sword. Hasain could hear the slide of the whetstone running along the ethereal blade from where he sat.

  None of them noticed his distress. Even Natori didn’t glance up. He held back the urge to scream at her. Could she not hear the demon? She was a Blessed Mage, for Daya’s sake! How could she not feel its presence?

  “No one can hear me but you. And the bitch Mage can’t sense me so long as I act through you. This is perfection, Hasain. Anything you desire, just ask it of me and it will be done. No one even needs be any the wiser. You can prove them all wrong. You can be the hero: the brave, noble son of the dead king, just like you always wanted.”

  A feeble gasp escaped Hasain’s throat. It was true; all he’d ever wanted was to make his father proud, yet even now, Hasain felt like he’d failed. His father was dead. The rest of the royal family lay in shambles, broken beyond repair. And his little brother, Deegan—Arden’s Crown Prince and only heir—would be thrown into combat tomorrow. His very life hung in the balance. He could be dead by the following nightfall.

  I promised Deegan I would keep him safe. I swore to him I’d protect him.

  Again, Leviticus laughed. “Now Hasain, didn’t your father ever teach you not to make promises you cannot keep?”

  Hasain clenched his hair in either hand, pulling so hard his skull burned. He’d do just about anything to protect his family, but what if he alone wasn’t enough? Rishi had never called upon the demon for aid, but Hasain was not his father. He wasn’t strong or wise or noble. He couldn’t be relied on to keep Deegan safe.

  Shadows engulfed Hasain’s racing heart as if the demon were squeezing it. He could feel Leviticus’ aura shift, growing darker yet.

  “Deegan does not have to go into battle. No one does. You can end this war right now. Look. The general is away from his sentries. He’s going alone to his tent. Now, Hasain. Unleash me. End this.”

  Hasain froze, watching as Morathi sauntered away from the command tent and toward his own, raised some distance away from the others.

  He was oddly alone. Where were his servants? Where were the hand-picked scum who usually followed him everywhere? Why was not even one guard posted beside his tent?

  A fire that had nothing to do with the demon trickled through Hasain’s veins, a vengeful fury that consumed all rational thoughts. But who could blame him for his rage? Anyone allied with Neetra was an enemy. And Morathi was doing all he could to ensure Deegan didn’t make it back to Arden alive.

  Hasain’s hands twitched restlessly at his sides. Would anyone really care if the general died? He wasn’t a young man. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume he’d perished from sunstroke. Or perhaps a bad heart.

  “That can be managed. Just go to him. I can do the rest.”

  With no general to lead them, Koal would seize control of the army. He wouldn’t wage war against Tahir. He’d find a way for peace between Arden and Shiraz. He’d find a way for all of them to make it back to Silver. There would be no battle in the morning if Morathi were disposed of tonight. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “There it is. The only scrap of your father’s conviction I’ve yet seen within you. For once in your life, take charge. Free me so we may end this.”

  Hasain licked his lips and climbed to his feet. No one paid any attention as he slunk toward Morathi’s tent. He had a clear path inside. He was only steps away from ending the war.

  “Tular, stop! Unhand me this instant!”

  Hasain hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the sound of Deegan’s bubbling laughter.

  Tular had both of Deegan’s arms pulled behind his back. The prince was stomping and twisting, trying to free himself.

  “I’m the Crown Prince!” he squawked between fits of giggles. “I could have you arrested!”

  Tular only snickered and lifted higher, forcing Deegan to stand on the tips of his toes.

  Koal’s voice rose from the depths of the command tent. He snarled a reprimand, but Tular didn’t immediately concede.

  “Yeah, you heard Koal,” Tular teased. “Act your age.”

  Deegan balked. “Act my age? What about you?”

  Koal shouted, louder this time, and both Tular and Deegan finally untangled their limbs from one another. Sharing a hearty laugh, they went to sit by the fire.

  The shadow around Hasain’s heart loosened its clench. Suddenly, he could breathe again. He could reason again.

  Slowly, he backed away from the general’s tent. What had he been thinking? What had he almost done? His eyes searched the clearing, and he searched within himself. Where had the demon gone?

  It didn’t matter.

  Hasain made his way back to his brothers—his family. They’d get through this battle together. Hasain would keep Deegan safe without the demon’s help. Maybe then Leviticus would realize he couldn’t win. He’d learn that no matter how many sweet lies he whispered into Hasain’s head, the Radek lord wouldn’t be swayed. After tomorrow, perhaps the demon would leave Hasain alone for good.

  It was probably a fool’s mission to hope for such a thing, but tonight at least, Hasain could rest assured, knowing his honor remained intact.

  Gib stared down at the tiny painted stones: black for the infantry, blue for the Healers, white for the mages, yellow for the archers, and red for the cavalry. They were set upon the table—which was really just two overturned barrels with a slab of hardwood thrown over top—and were strategically placed into organized clusters, like pawns in a game of Senet. This was no game, however.

  The war council had dispersed moments before, and now only Gib and Koal remained inside the command tent. The seneschal paced back and forth across the space with hands behind his back, only unclutching them now and then to rub at his temples. Face lined with stress, Koal hadn’t uttered more than a few words since the meeting had ended.

  Tomorrow’s strategy was laid out on the hardwood before their eyes. Morathi had appeared confident, even arrogant, when he called the meeting to an end, but Gib’s stomach churned anyway. A single night’s restless sleep was all that stood between him and the battle.

  “What do you think will happen tomorrow, sir?” Gib asked. “Will it be as Morathi claims? If the Shirites refuse to come out and fight, will our mages really be able to breach Tahir’s wall?”

  “If it comes down to that, yes,” Koal replied at length. “The army can’t afford to lay siege. Our bones would be turned to dust long before the Shirites began to starve. Our mages are crucial.”

  Gib supposed he shouldn’t question such things. Even if he never understood magic, he had witnessed the destruction on the riverbank—at the hands of a single enemy Firestarter. It wasn’t inconceivable for a group of mages to have the ability to reduce a stone wall to rubble.

  “It’s not too late for them to surrender. We don’t have to tear down their wall. We don’t have to battle.”

  Koal slowed his pace but didn’t stop entirely. “Our forces outnumber theirs ten to one. It would be in their best interest to surrender peacefully. Though the Dhaki regime will, in all likelihood, sacrifice every last man, woman, and child before they ever submit to foreign conquerors.”

  Gib’s heart sank. “Then there really is no hope for peace, even at this late hour.”

  Koal glared down at the painted stones. “It was never in Neetra and Morathi’s plan to find peace.”

  The tent flaps stirred then, drawing both men’s attention, and Joel peeked between the folds. “Father? Nawaz is here to see you. May we come inside?”

  Koal waved for them to enter. “You should be trying to sleep. Both of you.”

  Joel twisted the sleeves of his robe as he stepped through the threshold. Gib tried not to look. He hated seeing his former companion consumed by worry. “I’m afraid my unruly mind won’t allow f
or sleep.” His eyes fluttered over to the table, studying the stones. “Did the meeting fare well? Did they make a decision concerning our prince?”

  Koal sighed. “Deegan will remain at the rear of the army. There will be less chance he’ll have to engage in the battle there. I will do my best to negotiate a truce with the Dhaki princes, but Morathi’s demands are—absolutely uncompromising. I don’t believe they will lay their weapons down willingly. If battle is inevitable, I pray the fight doesn’t make it to Deegan. I can’t be there with him.”

  “I’ll protect him, Father. With my life, if necessary.”

  “No. I’m leaving Natori and Tular with Deegan. I need you near the front. We’ll need our mages there. We must keep the battle on the Shiraz side of the field.”

  “You think there’s a chance they’ll break through our lines when we outnumber them in such great numbers?”

  Koal stared down at the minuscule stone army, his mouth set harshly. “I think the Shirites have had plenty of time to strategize. They’ve known for moonturns we were coming. I think underestimating them would be foolish.”

  The muscles in Joel’s throat compressed as he swallowed. “We’ll be ready for anything. Don’t worry.”

  Koal nodded and turned his attention toward Nawaz. “I was hoping for good news from the pavilion, but the reports earlier were grim. Just how depleted are our medicine stores?”

  The Healer didn’t immediately respond. Veiled within the shadows, Gib hadn’t noticed until this moment how pale and out of sorts Nawaz appeared. Gib’s stomach flopped. What had gotten into him?

  “Very,” Nawaz uttered in a voice heavy with burden. “We’re running low on just about everything, from salves to fresh bandages.”

  He wrung his clammy hands together and sagged his shoulders. Something was definitely wrong. The Healer’s eyelids were brimming with tears. Was the fear of tomorrow’s battle too much for him to bear? Gib had never taken Nawaz for a coward, but something had him completely distraught.