Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “Aye,” Nage snorted. “An’ it’s a wonder, after the stunt she pulled.”

  Kezra hauled her brother into an embrace before he could raise a question. “We were looking all over for you. And then I saw Joel bring the wall down onto the beast and—do you know how close you were to being crushed?”

  Joel, still perched atop Zandi’s gelding, stared into the wreckage. One of the monster’s claws was just visible amid the shattered alabaster. He gawped at the limb like he was afraid the beast might arise anew. “It was the only thing I could think to do. They’re immune to magic.”

  “Yeah,” Nage replied, shuddering. “We figured that out.”

  Kezra touched Zandi’s damp cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “You as well, sister.” Zandi wiped a sleeve across his eyes. “When the attack began, I feared the worst—”

  Kezra could tell by the tremble in his voice that he was struggling to maintain control over himself. She squeezed his arm. “It’s going to be all right. We’re going to be all right.”

  Gara cleared her throat. She shifted restlessly in her saddle, eyes darting every which way. “Hey, guys, I don’t mean to break up the heartfelt reunion and all, but we best keep moving. Those things are getting closer.”

  “The order to retreat’s been given,” Nage agreed. “Looks like we’re gonna have to make a run for it.”

  “But—” Joel protested. “What about the rest of the army? And Deegan! I was supposed to protect him.”

  “Seneschal Koal was on his way to the prince last we saw him,” Gara reassured.

  “You saw my father? He was alive?”

  “Yes, and you know damned well that if anyone can keep Deegan safe, it’s the seneschal. We will find them later, Joel. For now, you must come with us. Kezra, Zandi, back in your saddles. Hurry.”

  Kezra sought the hilt of her sword as she stepped away from Zandi. The shouts at her back were growing louder and even more panicked. The smell of sweat and blood hung thickly in the air. She pivoted, peering through the haze. She couldn’t stop herself. She had to see the destruction with her own eyes. Only the hatred surging through her veins—seeping into her very bones—held Kezra’s tears at bay.

  So many soldiers lay dead or dying. So many countless others were trying to flee but were hopelessly encircled by the beasts. Kezra thought she might die from the anger pressing onto her heart. So much loss of life. So many broken families and friendships—all for the sake of Neetra Adelwijn’s contrived war. This was all his fault. She’d never loathed anyone so much.

  Her fingers twitched around the shagreen handle. She knew the command to retreat had been given, and yet—she hesitated.

  “Come on,” Gara called again. “We have to leave.”

  Revulsion gushed into every corner of Kezra’s mind until she could think of nothing else but revenge. Revenge on Neetra Adelwijn. Revenge on the High Council. Revenge on her father. Revenge on the beasts that had slain so many of her comrades—were still slaying them even as she stood by and did nothing.

  Kezra began to slide the blade free of its sheath. The fallen deserved to be avenged. She deserved vengeance. And she would have it—

  “Kezra?” One of Zandi’s slender hands slipped over hers, breaking Kezra from her trance. She blinked and looked up at him. His imploring eyes were nothing short of devastating. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing—don’t. Live to fight another day. This battle is lost, but the war has barely begun.” His bottom lip quivered. “Please. I need you.”

  Heat pooled on Kezra’s cheeks. Damn. He knew her too well. Swallowing, she pulled her hand off the hilt. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Zandi gave a brief nod before navigating his way back to his horse. “We should ride close to the wall. Once we’re clear, we can make a run for the open desert.” He reached for Joel’s offered hand. “We can follow the river. Hopefully the other survivors will go there—”

  A violent shockwave rippled across the sand. Zandi staggered where he stood. He might have toppled over had Joel not grabbed Zandi’s arm and pulled him into the saddle. The ground heaved as some unknown force bubbled up from the depths. Kezra stared breathlessly at the tiny rivulets of powdered mortar cascading around her boots. Was the entire world slanting? Chhaya’s bane, what new horror was about to be thrown at them?

  Gara’s face drained of all color. “Is that—is that more beasts?”

  Epona threw her head and whickered in terror. Kezra had to dive for the reins to prevent the mare from bolting.

  Joel whimpered. He looked like he might be ill. “The dark magic is massing again. Zandi, do you—?”

  “I feel it, too,” Zandi said shakily. “Oh gods—it’s everywhere.”

  “It must be hundreds more of them comin’ up!” Nage hollered.

  Epona was so unsteady on her feet Kezra had to crawl into the saddle. White-knuckled, she clung to the pommel for dear life.

  “Look!” Gara cried. “Look at the ground!”

  The earth ruptured beneath Epona’s hooves. Kezra could only gape in horror as the dirt tore apart, like a garment being ripped at the seams. The jagged rift snaked through the sand, spreading rapidly from Tahir’s wall and cutting a path all the way to the center of the battleground. Soldiers shouted and shoved one another aside in an effort to get away from the chasm. The shuddering ground caught the attention of the beasts, who ceased their carnage as scaly maws lifted into the air. The monsters hissed and flared their nostrils.

  “Something has them scared,” Joel said breathlessly.

  The earth buckled.

  Kezra braced herself as Epona reared, but nothing could have prepared her or anyone else for what happened next.

  The ground simply gave out beneath the army, opening into a black pit—no, a pit would have been something—this was an abyss. Nothing. No bottom. No end. No anything. Just a void. It was as if the world itself had fallen away.

  Hundreds of terrified screams lifted in unison as men plunged into oblivion. The monsters tried to flee, but too slowly. They were swept away alongside the Ardenian army. The beasts shrieked as they plummeted to their doom. The devastating timbre pierced Kezra’s ears and left her frozen in terror.

  Move! You have to move!

  Kezra managed to tear her eyes from the battlefield. The sand below was sifting into the fissure. She could feel the earth dipping. A strangled squeak ripped free from her throat.

  Daya, the ground is going to cave here too!

  “Go!” she screamed. “Go now!”

  With a snap of the reins, Epona bolted forward at a full gallop. Kezra crouched low on the saddle. Wind whipped around her face. Sand lashed her eyes. Her ears brimmed with the sounds of screaming men and the rumble of falling dirt. She refused to look back.

  She rode hard and furiously along the wall. Alabaster stone whizzed past in a blur. The entire structure seemed to be moving—or maybe only she was. To her other side, Kezra caught the flash of white robes. Joel and Zandi were only a few paces behind. And Nage and Gara? She couldn’t risk a glance over her shoulder but hoped they were there too.

  The world narrowed to a single, desperate objective. Ride to safety. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Just ride.

  But then Kezra heard her brother cry out in surprise.

  Zandi! No!

  She pivoted in her saddle in time to see the gelding carrying the two mages stumble over the upheaved sand. Joel, who’d been sitting to the front, went flying overhead. Zandi was thrown off the side. He tried to scramble away as the horse crashed to the ground, but he didn’t move fast enough. The gelding bowled over, pinning one of Zandi’s legs against the sand.

  Kezra didn’t think. She simply reacted. Yanking on Epona’s reins so hard the mare was forced into a lurching halt, she jumped from the saddle. A cloud of dust swelled before her like Death’s shadow. The ground splintered. Entire plates of crust broke off and disappeared into the void, just paces from where Zandi lay helplessly bound. She didn’t care. She
raced back toward her brother.

  “Kezra, no!” Zandi cried, struggling to free his leg. “Don’t!”

  Kezra only ran faster. She had to reach him.

  Another chunk of earth bowed and broke away. Zandi’s horse elicited a terrified squeal and rolled into the ravine. The gelding’s kicking hooves were the last part of its body to disappear from view. The squealing ceased.

  Zandi crawled desperately for safety, but the earth was disintegrating around him. His fingers dug into the sand but found nothing to grip. He slipped farther away.

  No!

  Kezra dove, grabbing for Zandi’s hands. She managed to catch his wrists just as the dirt collapsed beneath his body. Zandi let out a shrill wail as he was left dangling helplessly above the abyss.

  Kezra jolted forward with a gasp, nearly tumbling over the edge herself. Pain shot up her arms. Both limbs felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Her shoulders burned in agony, and her grip wavered.

  Oh gods, I can’t hold his weight!

  “Kezra,” Zandi sobbed wetly. His boots flailed for solid ground, but there was nothing below him. He couldn’t pull himself up. He stopped thrashing. His tear-filled eyes met hers. “You have to save yourself.”

  Digging her knees into the sand, Kezra gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t drop him. If he fell, she was going with him. “I’m not letting go.”

  The whites of Zandi’s eyes shone against the shadowed void. Droplets rolled down his cheeks in waves. “There’s no other way. I—I love you.”

  “No!” Kezra screamed, even as her grip slipped further.

  “You have to.”

  “I won’t let you die!”

  Zandi’s mouth dropped open, but any words he might have uttered died on his tongue. His gaze shifted beyond Kezra. A shadow splashed across his pale face, and hope rekindled in his eyes.

  Kezra’s head shot up. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Joel Adelwijn standing beside her. He might as well have been a gift sent by The Two.

  “Help me!” she gasped.

  Without hesitation, Joel went down on his knees, stretching a hand over the ledge. He clutched Zandi’s forearm. “Grab his other arm. Don’t worry. I have him. Good. Okay, at the same time now—pull!”

  Together, they lurched to their feet. Kezra slammed her eyes shut, yanking with every ounce of strength left in her body. She could hear Joel’s strained grunt above the rumble of falling sand as he, too, heaved.

  One step backward. Two. Another—

  Yes! YES!

  Kezra’s eyes popped open as Zandi tumbled onto solid ground in a heap of white robes.

  They pulled the mage a safe distance from the ledge, propping him against a dune. Kezra’s chest heaved with weariness. Her knees buckled, and a moment later, she collapsed beside her brother, too exhausted to go on. If the Gatekeeper wanted her soul that badly, then so be it. Let Him take her. She didn’t care anymore.

  But the chasm didn’t widen. The ground had stopped trembling, and the rumble of falling earth ceased. Kezra held her breath, waiting—but nothing happened. The world had gone silent: stiller than Death itself. Chhaya’s bane, was the madness over?

  Zandi sobbed hysterically into the crook of Kezra’s neck. “I thought—I thought we were both going to fall to our deaths.”

  Kezra was beyond the ability to form coherent words, so she squeezed Zandi closer and let him weep himself dry.

  The chasm sprawled before them like a bone-dry lake. A thick haze rose from the bottomless depths, dampening the sunlight and making it difficult to gauge how immense the rift truly was. Kezra peered through the dust, hoping to catch a glimpse of fellow survivors, but she could see nothing on the far side of the gorge.

  Joel’s hands gripped his raven locks as he stared across the void in disbelief. His eyes misted with tears, and then he, too, wilted to the ground. “The army—our army—it’s—they’re all dead. Father, Deegan, Nawaz, Hasain, and—oh, gods, what if Gib—”

  Zandi raised his soggy face at that, glaring angrily. “Don’t say that. We can’t be the only survivors. They might have made it.”

  Joel cupped his hands over his face. “Goddesses, be just to our loved ones.”

  Wretched sobs filled Kezra’s ears. At first, she thought they belonged to Joel or Zandi, but no—the grief-stricken cries were drifting from farther away. She glanced in the direction of the sound. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Daya, how had she forgotten?

  Gara knelt at the edge of the chasm, reaching with outstretched hands into the dusty air. The scout’s rigid body quivered as she wept. “I—I had just looked back.”

  A nauseating lump formed in Kezra’s throat. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching frantically for the last member of their party. Where was he? Where was Nage?

  “He was right behind me,” Gara rambled on. Her choked words were nearly incoherent. “Right behind me. And then—” Her hands fell limply to the ground. “I promised Nia. I promised her.”

  Oh, no. No. Not him. Not Nage.

  Kezra staggered to her feet. The truth already twisted like a dagger in the gut, but she refused to believe it. She couldn’t believe it. Even now, as hope dwindled, her blurry eyes searched for him. “Gara, where is he? Where’s Nage?”

  The scout’s anguished cry shook Kezra to the core. “Nage fell. He’s gone.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gib stared vacantly into the chasm, unaware of the passing time. He could have been sitting there a quarter-mark or an entire day. His muddled mind and heavy heart didn’t care. What was left to care about?

  When the cataclysm struck, nothing near the center of the battlefield escaped its wrath. Men, monsters, horses—they were all lost. In the blink of an eye, thousands of soldiers had been thrown to the shadowy abyss. Gone in a single heartbeat. Dead.

  Gib absently wiped a blood-stained sleeve across his eyes. The sun soared high in the sky. Angry, blistering rays beat down onto his cheeks. The heat dried Gib’s tears almost faster than the droplets could fall. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t making any effort to hide his grief. And he wasn’t the only one weeping for Arden’s great loss.

  Behind him, the broken remnants of the Ardenian army were setting up crude tents and tending to the wounded. They worked in complete silence, their spirits surely as broken as Gib’s own. The survivors—those scant few who’d been lucky enough to be fighting farther out when the earth shattered—roamed into the makeshift camp a handful at a time. Their eyes were all dull, lost to unthinkable sorrow. Many of them chose to keep walking around the outskirts of the war camp, too bewildered and disillusioned to sit. No one had imagined things would end this way. No one.

  “Gibben?” Deegan called gingerly from beneath the shade of a nearby awning. The prince hovered beside Natori, who perched unwillingly on a cot while Nawaz attempted to bandage the gash across the Blessed Mage’s brow. Tular and Hasain sat farther inside the tent, both mute.

  “Let me be,” Natori groaned. “The other survivors need your help. I’m fine.”

  Nawaz frowned as he attended to his reluctant patient. “With all due respect, Blessed Mage, I’m the Healer here. Be quiet and let me work.”

  Deegan was paying little attention to their banter. Wringing his hands, he sought out Gib’s gaze. “Perhaps it’s best if you come away from the ledge. It could crumble.”

  “Yes, Highness,” Gib replied distantly, yet he made no effort to move. Did it matter if he tumbled to his death? What was the loss of one more soul after the thousands who’d just perished? After Gib’s own friends had fallen? He set his face against his knees and wept silently.

  He would go to Kezra and Zandi’s mother as soon as he returned to Silver. He needed to see Lady Odessa in person. His apologies for failing to keep the two eldest Malin-Rai children safe would never be enough to ease her pain, but he felt it was his duty to offer condolences. Both Zandi and Kezra would have done the same for Gib.

  He’d have to make the same tr
ek to the Leal estate, to Nia, who’d barely had time to mourn the loss of her father. Would she ever fully recover when she discovered both her sister and fiancé had crossed The Veil as well?

  Gib shuddered. Lady Mrifa. He didn’t know if he could face her…

  Joel, I failed you most of all. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  Gnashing his teeth against the urge to sob aloud, Gib focused his attention on the distant city. Fragments of plaster still crumbled from Tahir’s battered wall. Much of the fortification was absent entirely, swallowed by the void. Inside the city, houses had been reduced to piles of rubble. Temples lay in ruins. Some buildings had sunk into the rift, while others had toppled during the quake. The damage was unspeakable. There were no winners this day.

  A shadow fell across the sand. Gib raised his chin, staring up with blurry eyes at his mentor.

  “On your feet, Gib,” Koal said in a hollow voice. He set a hand on Gib’s shoulder, squeezing feebly. “Come sit in the shade, before you get sunstroke.”

  That was what he was worried about? Gib coming down with sunstroke?

  “Joel,” Gib gasped, unable to prevent the forbidden name from escaping his lips. “Your son—”

  “I know,” Koal whispered and turned his face away.

  Gib wiped away his tears as he stood, but it was a losing battle. Fresh rivulets flowed anew. “We should say the death rite. The fallen deserve as much.”

  “We will. When all the survivors are accounted for, we’ll say the rite together.”

  After a brief lapse of silence, Koal looked over at Gib once again. The sight of the seneschal’s haggard features and bloodshot eyes was almost too heartbreaking to behold. Gib could recall witnessing such defeat upon Koal’s face only one other time: the evening King Rishi lay on his deathbed.

  Gib choked on a sob. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Our loss. Arden’s loss.”

  A group of survivors limped into the camp then, and Koal excused himself to check on their well-being. Gib wandered over to the prince’s tent, feeling lost and useless.

  Deegan offered a wineskin. “Here, Gibben, have some water.”