Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  But now, she was afraid. She was terrified. She’d been prepared to face mortal men, not creatures straight from her darkest nightmares.

  Kezra watched breathlessly as the monsters slaughtered their way through Arden’s army. Chunks of flesh and hair littered the ground. Soldiers missing entire limbs dragged themselves across the sand. Horses lay motionless with their entrails fanned out around their ruined corpses.

  Kezra retched, but nothing came up. This was a nightmare. It had to be. She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them nothing had changed. The nightmare still engulfed her.

  “What in hell are those?” Nage asked, swaying back and forth as his petrified gelding pranced in circles.

  Kezra didn’t know. She wished her brother were here. Zandi could likely identify the beast.

  Zandi.

  Her eyes fell desperately over the scattered army, but her heart already knew the chances of spotting him were remote.

  “Look out!” Gara cried.

  A barbed tail whipped past them, so close Kezra felt wind gust against her face. Nearby, a group of soldiers had rallied against one of the creatures. They closed around it, hacking with their blades, but for all their efforts, Kezra could see only shallow slashes rising on the beast’s legs and belly.

  The tail lashed back again, and dust flew into Kezra’s eyes. The monster swiped a bloody claw, raking down a good number of men who stood ahead of it. Another lost soul writhed in the beast’s splinter-sharp teeth. The sentinels kept fighting, but for every tiny wound they inflicted, the creature was butchering tens of them.

  Gara pulled the bow from her back and nocked an arrow. Kezra wished to the damn Gods she had a ranged weapon, too. Taking aim, Gara let the arrow fly. The shaft sailed true, but Gara cried out in dismay when the arrow bounced harmlessly off the beast’s scaly hide. It didn’t even leave a mark.

  “How’re we supposed to fight them?” Nage asked frantically. “Nothing’s slowing them down!”

  Gara pointed a stiff finger. “Look, a mage is coming!”

  Kezra’s heartbeat quickened. Was it Zandi? She craned her neck.

  It wasn’t Zandi, but an elder with grey hair. Even though it wasn’t the mage she’d hoped to see, at least a mage had arrived at all. If swords weren’t touching the beasts, surely magic could fell them.

  The mage lifted his arms, and Kezra saw a swirl of grey massing against the heavens. One moment there had been only blue sky, and in the next, clouds blotted out the sun. Thunder rolled over the dunes, and static forced Kezra’s hair on end.

  The mage plunged his arms down, and a bolt of lightning shot from the roiling clouds. It lashed the monster with a shattering crackle.

  Yes!

  Nage whooped in victory, only to have his merriment quelled seconds later. Kezra’s mouth fell open.

  Chhaya’s bane!

  The creature still stood. The lightning hadn’t harmed it at all.

  The monster let out a furious hiss and lunged at this newest attacker. A magic shield flared around the mage, but his eyes bulged a moment later when the barrier faltered—and then vanished completely. Terrified, he tried to run away, but the creature snatched him up before he could take a second step. The crunch of bones made Kezra shudder just as much as the sight of tattered white robes dangling from the beast’s teeth.

  It didn’t touch the beast. The magic didn’t touch it. Chhaya’s bane! Zandi! I have to find Zandi!

  “No magic!”

  Seneschal Koal’s cape billowed as he marched into view. He strode on foot, favoring one leg slightly over the other. His golden breastplate was dented beyond repair, and the longsword clutched in his large hands dripped with dark blood. Fire raged in his eyes.

  “Magic makes them stronger!” Koal roared. “They absorb it! It heals them!”

  Kezra flung herself around in her saddle and saw he spoke the truth. The little gashes on the beast’s underbelly and legs were mending themselves, sealing as though the wounds had never been inflicted in the first place.

  Impossible, Kezra lamented. What is this? What is this dark magic?

  Koal waved his blade, rallying the soldiers. “To me, sentinels! To me!”

  Frightened yells arose as the soldiers rushed to their commander.

  “How do we kill them?”

  “They are immortal!”

  “We’re no match against demonspawn!”

  Koal’s voice remained unflappable, a fixed boulder within rapids. “Aim for the maw! Their hide is weakest beneath the jaw. Listen, we will attack in unison—”

  “Look out!”

  Blood sizzled in Kezra’s ears.

  Oh no.

  The swell of Koal’s ruby cape had caught the beast’s attention. Without warning, it screeched and barreled toward the seneschal.

  Kezra reacted without thinking. Sword at the ready, she spurred Epona into a canter and charged the monster. Nage’s alarmed shout followed at her back, but Kezra didn’t care. For years, Seneschal Koal had been fighting in the council room for people like her. How could she not aid him now?

  The beast’s focus was still on Koal, so it didn’t see Kezra ride up beside it. She was so close the monster’s stench wafted into her nostrils. She gagged. The smell was putrid, like decaying flesh.

  “Stand with me!” Koal said, squaring his broad shoulders and pointing his blade at the oncoming adversary. A handful of soldiers turned and fled, but many stayed with him. They raised their weapons next to his. “If we die, we die for Arden!”

  Kezra straightened her legs, standing upright in the stirrups. They were going to die. The monster would cut through them like butter. They needed a distraction, and Kezra needed a chance to prove her valor—to them and herself. If she died, what better way than by defending Arden’s seneschal?

  Letting out a shrill war cry, Kezra pushed away from Epona’s saddle and jumped at the creature’s side. Elevated as she was, she still couldn’t reach the ridged back. One hand grasped feebly at the bony knobs, but she felt herself slipping. She held on long enough to swipe her sword across the beast’s shoulder before she was tossed to the ground.

  The monster hissed and slammed a massive claw against the sand, barely missing Kezra’s face. Breathless, she jabbed at the limb. The beast’s wedge-shaped head whipped around, the little beady eyes searching for her. Kezra rolled farther beneath its girth. Her blade raked across pearly scales as she went, but the monster’s belly was as armored as its back. Kezra cried out in frustration. She was swinging with all the strength she possessed, yet she wasn’t inflicting more than superficial wounds.

  Rows of teeth clinked together, so close Kezra could feel the blazing scorch of the monster’s breath. The scaly body twisted, and Kezra rolled again, trying to stay under the belly. But this time the monster moved too swiftly. Light blinded her as she was left sprawled upon her back, staring into the sun. And then the monster’s face appeared overhead, looming above her like the shadow of Death.

  A flurry of boots and hooves moved around her. Kezra could hear Nage and Gara screaming, trying to draw the beast’s attention. But it wanted only her. Kezra heaved her blade one last time before the weapon was knocked out of her hands. The flesh around the monster’s maw peeled back, revealing rows of jagged teeth and remnants of Kezra’s fallen comrades. And here she was, soon to join them.

  Daya, let Zandi live. Let my mother and siblings be safe.

  The beast’s black eyes bore into hers. Kezra peered into the abyssal depths and saw her own hollowed face staring back. It wasn’t the face of a warrior, but one of a foolish child. She looked closer and could see the path of devastation left in the creature’s wake: the bloodied, unmoving shadows of horses and men alike. She saw Nage and Gara, their faces contorted in fear, and the flicker of Seneschal Koal’s cape. She even saw Nawaz—surely an illusion summoned by her dazed mind—standing with his crossbow notched and ready to sail free.

  Nawaz—whose life she had ruined in a moment of utter selfishness.


  Kezra choked on the bile in her throat. She wasn’t a warrior. She wasn’t a hero. She was just as much a monster as the thing about to kill her. And she deserved this.

  In her reflection, a red dot gleamed upon her brow, and Kezra’s eyes widened with sudden recognition. The heritage mark!

  Gib’s gentle voice echoed in her ears. “Look at me. You are not a monster. That was the night. Today is a new day. Fight for it.”

  Kezra touched her forehead. The mind could conquer all, if only it was trusted.

  She gasped.

  No! I’m not a monster! And I’m not ready to give up fighting! I can do this! I trust myself!

  Her hand grasped for the sword, just out of her reach. The monster’s teeth grazed her neck. She just needed another moment—

  Something small whizzed past Kezra’s ear, and the monster howled so deafeningly that Kezra feared her ears might explode. The massive head recoiled, and from Kezra’s prone position, she could see clearly that the underside of the jaw was free of scales. It was soft—penetrable. Kezra’s spirit soared as her hand brushed over her sword. She grabbed it, curling her fingers around the familiar shagreen hilt. Letting out a savage cry, she thrust the weapon upward, driving the blade into the monster’s jaw.

  The beast screeched and collapsed into a mass of thrashing limbs and claws. Kezra scrambled back. Her sword was lodged hilt-deep through the jaws and roof of its mouth. Her heart pounded as she watched the beast convulse. Would it be enough? Was the blow fatal? The spasms lessened to feeble jerks, and at last they tapered to weak twitches. Finally, the monster gave one final heave and its body went limp.

  Kezra crawled back over to the creature, and sitting on her knees, she yanked on the buried sword. It came free with a wet slide. Thick, black ooze covered the blade.

  A wave of nausea washed over her. She sat back in the sand, uncertain if she could rise. Her legs were as heavy as stone pillars. More foul ooze seeped from within the monster’s maw. Kezra stared in disbelief. Had she really killed it?

  It was then she noticed a small protrusion above the beast’s snout. She squinted, investigating more closely. An arrow! An arrow shaft was wedged into one of the creature’s lifeless eyes. So that’s why the thing had reeled back in pain. But who had made such an expert shot—?

  Firm hands hooked under Kezra’s armpits and lifted her to her feet. She knew who it was even before he spoke. She’d never forget the feel of those hands…

  “Kezra?” Nawaz asked. “Are you hurt?”

  She turned to face him. Her chest heaved from so much more than the fatigue of battle. She wanted to scream at him to leave her alone—that it was for his own damn good—but instead, she uttered a meek “You saved me.”

  A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “No. You saved us. You’re a warrior, Kezra.”

  Kezra could have stared into those haunted blue eyes forever, but Koal was nearby, and he was calling to Nawaz.

  The Healer’s hands slipped away, and he dropped his eyes. “I gotta go. Morathi’s given the order to retreat. Koal and I have to get to Deegan.” He repositioned the crossbow across his back. When he managed to lift his chin, his eyes were imploring. “Come with us? We’re securing the prince—and leaving.”

  Kezra shook her head. A part of her wanted to, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t go with Nawaz, now—or ever.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t leave without Zandi.” Kezra looked over at Nage and Gara, who waited in their saddles. “You two should go with Nawaz—”

  Nage snorted. “Not a chance you’re getting rid of us that easy.”

  “We’re staying with you,” Gara agreed.

  Kezra bit her tongue.

  Fools, both of them. Brave fools.

  “All right,” Nawaz said. He cast a final glance at Kezra, but he didn’t beg her to stay with him. Instead, he simply said, “Be safe.”

  So she left. And so did he.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We have to find Deegan! My father ordered me to go to him!”

  Onyx locks lashed Joel’s face. He wasn’t able to tell if it was his own hair or that belonging to the other mage. The ground whirled by so fast it blurred. Joel couldn’t stare down at it without growing dizzy. But he didn’t want to look up either. He didn’t want to see the Zhal’mohr tearing Ardenian soldiers to shreds. Their screams of agony were enough to make him faint. All he could do was slam his eyes closed and cling to Zandi’s back as the horse dashed through the scattered army.

  Joel’s terrified mind jumped to Deegan again. Koal had made certain the Crown Prince was well-protected. He was under the watch of the Blessed Mage. Hasain and Tular were there, both warriors in their own right—and Gib. Gib had the most common sense of anyone Joel knew.

  But would they be enough? No one had expected an army of demonspawn to rise from the sand. What if Deegan and his protectors couldn’t escape? They might already be dead. And what of Koal? Nawaz? Joel hadn’t seen either of them since the attack began. Had they perished? Was it too late for Joel to say he forgave them?

  No. There’s still hope! They’re alive! I have to get to Deegan!

  Joel dared to open his eyes. Tahir’s outer wall loomed ahead, so tall it shrouded the rising sun from view. Close as they were, Joel could almost reach out and touch the limestone bricks.

  “We need to get to the rear of the army!” Joel yelled. “Turn us around!”

  “I can’t!” came Zandi’s exasperated reply. “There are too many beasts behind us! They’re pinning us in!”

  Joel looked over his shoulder—and paled. The army stretched across the sand, a blanket woven from iron, leather, and blood—but the outer cusps were starting to buckle beneath the onslaught of Zhal’mohr. The soldiers were being pushed inward, toward the wall.

  They’re ensnaring us. They’re herding us together to make it easier to slaughter us.

  “We have to keep moving—” Joel’s words gave way to a surprised inhale when a blurred object hummed past his head, nearly grazing his cheek.

  “Shirite archers!” Zandi cried in warning. “On the wall!”

  Joel let out a snarl and turned his eyes skyward as another arrow skittered to the ground.

  Oh no you don’t.

  Magic surged to his hands. He might not be able to protect himself against the Zhal’mohr, but the enemy archers were mortal men. They were fallible.

  He hurled a searing bolt of mage-fire at the enemy, and one of the archers screamed as he was knocked back. He disappeared over the far edge. Another bolt. Another hit. This time the victim plunged forward, tumbling into the sand.

  Zandi wrapped a mage-shield around them, desperately trying to ward off the arrows, but the dark aura of the massing Zhal’mohr was sapping his magic. The barrier flickered unsteadily. Joel could feel his own energy waning even as he helped reinforce the shield.

  “We can’t stay here!” Joel screamed, watching as arrows rained down around them.

  But they were surrounded. The army pressed from behind, and the wall stood in front of them. To either side, Zhal’mohr lurked in the shadows, picking off soldiers who were trying to make a run for the open desert. They were hopelessly trapped.

  “Any great ideas?” Zandi said.

  Joel shot off another blast of offensive magic. More archers plummeted to their deaths. “I need to think—”

  “No time,” Zandi replied. His shield was in grave danger of complete collapse.

  Joel cried out in frustration and hurled another bolt. The Shirites jumped back this time, and his mage-fire slammed against the parapet instead. A chunk of mortar and stone came crumbling down. Joel stared at the rubble as it rolled across the sand and came to rest by the gelding’s hooves.

  And then he did have an idea. A crazy, reckless idea. But an idea nonetheless.

  He grabbed Zandi’s arm. “The beasts can be killed, right?”

  “Y–yes,” Zandi whimpered. “But our magic is useless—”

  “We’re no
t going to use magic.” Joel ripped open the satchel tied to his belt, revealing the cache of runestones within. He reached inside and pulled out a fistful.

  Daya, please let this work.

  The Zhal’mohr’s gloom leeched Joel’s energy, but power anew surged from the runestones to replace it. He took the magic into himself, hungrily, until it flooded his veins and he could hold no more. And then he set his sights on the nearest beast, the one crouching between them and a clear path to freedom.

  Zandi must have sensed the swell of energy. He paled further. “What are you doing? It will only make the beast stronger! You can’t—”

  “Hold us steady,” Joel hissed, and then he launched a well-controlled zap at the Zhal’mohr. The magic exploded against the beast’s shield. With an incensed shriek, the Zhal’mohr whipped its head toward them.

  “Hey! Over here, demon scum!” Joel shouted angrily. He flared his magic, hoping the monster would be drawn to the power, like a month to the flame. “Come and get us!”

  Zandi gasped. “What are you—”

  “Don’t run,” Joel demanded through gritted teeth. He drew the power of the runestones to his hands. Sapphire flames roiled in his upturned palms.

  The Zhal’mohr lumbered at them with open jaws and spittle dripping from its teeth. Joel thought he might faint. Every bit of sense he possessed screamed at him to flee, but he didn’t.

  Closer. It needs to be closer.

  Magic scorched Joel’s hands. He could feel the Zhal’mohr trying to rip the power away, but he clung to it, refusing to relent.

  Almost.

  Zandi’s scream was lost beneath the howl of the beast. Joel could see the reflection of blue flames in its eyes. It was right in front of them.

  Now!

  With all his might, Joel flung the magic at the wall.