The Rise of the Dawnstar (The Avalonia Chronicles Book 2)

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  “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 read about him at the Academy of 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?”

  “A short while ago, while I was out on a mission in Sanria, inside the Red Citadel, I overheard a conversation between Redgrave and Gabriel Silverthorne.”

  I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “My granduncle?”

  Marcus nodded. “I heard Silverthorne call Redgrave by his real name. They mentioned you.”

  “What were they saying about me?”

  Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know. I only had a moment before I had to leave or risk getting caught.”

  I stared down at my plate. I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Uncle Gabriel had kept so many secrets from me, revealing only what he thought necessary. I knew he only wanted to help, and I was grateful, but it made it more difficult to believe what he said. It did sound like Marcus was telling the truth though. What would he gain by making it up?

  “A word of advice, if I may?” Marcus leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You must proceed with caution, Princess. The Dagger of Dragath is an ancient and dangerous weapon, and I don’t know how Morgana got her hands on it. But going near the Dagger without the proper knowledge is like going into battle with a needle instead of a sword. Go to Brandor and meet the mastermage before you go after the Dagger. He will have the information you need. Only then will you have any chance of finding the Dagger of Dragath, let alone breaking the curse.”

  Kalen suddenly appeared and sat down beside me, his face instantly giving away his distress.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  Kalen’s eyes were wide. “It’s the town guards. I was rubbing down the horses at the stables and I heard them talking about a fugitive who was supposed to be staying at the inn.”

  Rafe pushed his food away and grabbed my hand, pulling me up with him. “We have to leave now.” He moved toward the door and gestured for Kalen to follow us.

  Marcus had already put up the hood of his cloak and was heading out the door when it opened. Five armed guards with their swords ready strode into the crowded tavern, blocking our only escape route.

  Briarwood Castle

  A hush fell over the usually rowdy room, and no one moved.

  The tavern was too crowded for us to use magic and fight our way out—somebody might get hurt, and Rafe knew that. It was just my luck I would get caught and dragged back to the Summer Palace before I got halfway to Illiador.

  But it wasn’t me they had come for. They didn’t seem to know who we were.

  The guards moved forward and surrounded Marcus, pulling back his hood and holding swords to his throat. Marcus didn’t move, but his shrewd, dark eyes darted back and forth between them.

  The captain of the town guards walked into the crowded room. A chill wind followed as he slammed the tavern door.

  “Is this him, Captain?” the guard holding Marcus asked his superior. His uniform was a dull blue, and mud stains speckled the front of his tunic.

  “I believe it is,” said the captain, a sly grin spreading across his pockmarked face. He strode over to Marcus, a plain sword held loosely in his beefy hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Marcus Gold, Brandor’s most infamous black market trader.” His voice boomed across the hushed room as he pushed his straggly brown hair out of his face. He eyed Marcus warily, a cat playing with his prey. “You and your dirty magical items don’t belong in my town. You should be more careful of the people you work with. Looks like your last customer didn’t mind squealing your whereabouts in the torture chamber.”

  I winced at the word torture, but Marcus’s expression remained unclear as to what he was thinking. The tavern customers shuffled backward, huddling against the walls and trying to stay out of harm’s way. Many of them moved toward the door, but the guards did not let them leave.

  Marcus looked the captain straight in the eye. “You have the wrong man.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” The captain’s eyes gleamed almost manically. “There have been bodies turning up dead all over town, and you were seen leaving one of the murder scenes.”

  My heart beat so loudly I was afraid everyone would hear it.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Marcus calmly.

  “Should we take him to the dungeons, sir?” asked one guard.

  The captain nodded, his face hard. “Take him, I will deal with him personally.”

  As the guards started pulling Marcus toward the door, a gaunt man, who had been sitting at the table next to us, came and stood in front of the captain. He wrung his hands and shifted from side to side as he spoke.

  “I saw them, my lord,” he said, pointing at us and addressing the captain in a simpering voice. “They were all whispering together in a corner.”

  “Were they?” said the captain. His muddy boots clomped on the wooden floor as he walked toward us.

  I tensed, and my magic flared to life.

  Rafe moved slightly, pulling me up to his side and putting his arm around my waist. “Not yet,” he whispered. He knew me too well.

  I had learned to control my powers to a certain degree—it was a struggle to restrain myself, but I managed to push my magic back down.

  The captain came to stand before us as he eyed me suspiciously. His rancid breath made me feel like gagging. His informant scurried behind him.

  “What is your connection to the Brandorian spy?” the captain asked Rafe. It was obvious he didn’t recognize the crown prince with his hood drawn over his head.

  Rafe spoke calmly. “I have never seen him before. We just met him, he wanted directions.”

  “Liar!” spat the little informant. “I saw them huddled together. They are his accomplices, my lord captain.”

  “Are they now?” said the captain, moving closer. “Remove your hood, sir.” He pointed his sword at Rafe.

  Rafe didn’t move, but I could sense his magic building up inside him. If Rafe and I unleashed our magic in this tavern, there would be no telling the number of casualties.

  The captain glanced at me once and looked back at Rafe. “I said, remove your hood,” he enunciated every word. “Let’s see what you are hiding under there.”

  A burst of cold air entered the room. Everyone turned toward the door.

  “Marcus Gold doesn’t have any accomplices,” said a tall, dark figure standing at the entrance of the tavern. His eyes went straight to Rafe and then to me. For a fleeting second I thought he recognized us.

  He turned to the captain of the guard. “They are not to be touched,” said the stranger, pulling back his hood, revealing handsome features framed by a mass of wavy gold hair. He was young and broad-shouldered, and he looked not much older than Rafe.

  “But Lord D
elacourt,” said the captain, bowing low to the stranger, “they were conspiring with the criminal.”

  Delacourt turned his cold blue eyes on the captain. “No, Captain Finley! They were working for me to apprehend the criminal.” His voice was soft but laced with steel. “In fact, your untimely outburst nearly ruined my carefully laid plans.”

  “What bull!” the captain exclaimed.

  “Mind your tongue, Captain Finley,” said Lord Delacourt, his blue eyes narrowing to ice chips, “or it will be the last time you use it.” He pushed back his fur-trimmed crimson cloak to reveal a gleaming sword at his waist.

  Captain Finley gulped and took a step back. His eyes squinched, and he looked like steam was about to start erupting from his ears at any moment, but he moved out of the way nonetheless. His sneaky little informant disappeared into a shadowy corner.

  Lord Delacourt dismissed the captain with a wave of his hand and moved to stand in front of me. His face softened and, much to my astonishment, he gave me a sweeping bow. “I thank you for your assistance, my lady. I am forever in your debt.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I said, even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

  I glanced at Rafe, but he didn’t look perturbed; in fact, I saw the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Was this something he planned? If this mysterious stranger was a lord of the realm, then he must have recognized his prince. But I had no idea who he was; I had never seen or heard of him before.

  Delacourt clasped Rafe’s hand in his. “My friend, you will stay at my castle tonight—it is much more comfortable than this miserable inn.”

  Rafe nodded. “We would be delighted, my lord,” he said with a smile.

  “Escort the prisoner and my guests to the castle,” said Lord Delacourt to his men, turning and walking toward the door.

  “No! Arrest them!” the captain shouted to his underlings. “The magistrate will decide if they are telling the truth.”

  Three guards rushed forward to apprehend us, but Delacourt raised his hand, stopping them in their tracks. I could feel the rush of magical power concentrated around him; he was a mage.

  “But, but the magistrate . . .” sputtered the captain.

  Delacourt turned his emotionless gaze on the captain. “The magistrate will do as I tell him. And I presume you will too, if you value your job, Captain Finley.”

  The captain bowed again, and Lord Delacourt gave me his hand. “Allow me, my lady.”

  I took Delacourt’s hand and walked forward, but I caught a glimpse of the hatred in the captain’s eyes. I had made a new enemy, of that I was quite sure.

  Outside, in the courtyard of the little inn, the horses waited.

  Delacourt turned to me, his voice soft. “You can ride with me, my lady.”

  But Rafe was beside us in an instant and snaked his hand around my waist as he pulled me toward him. “That won’t be necessary, Lord Delacourt. The lady will be riding with me.”

  Delacourt smirked, his eyes twinkling. “As you wish.” He jumped up onto his own horse in one graceful leap.

  Kalen had retrieved our horses from the stables, but it turned out that my horse had hurt her hoof and was now lame; which meant I had to ride with someone else. I was glad it was Rafe; I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  We followed Delacourt and the guards uphill to a castle that lay on a rocky crag along the side of the mountains overlooking the town below. I sat in front of Rafe as we traversed the rocky mountain road, which cut through the gray stone between the thickly wooded slopes. He wrapped his cloak closer around us, and his powerful body protected me from the biting chill of the howling wind sweeping down from the mountains.

  “We will be safe at Briarwood Castle,” said Rafe in my ear. “For tonight, at least.”

  “Do you know Delacourt well?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Brandon and I were at the Academy of Evolon together for four years. We lived in the same house at the academy. The Delacourt family has ruled these lands ever since anyone can remember. The Earldom of Briarwood is one of the oldest titles in Eldoren, passed down through centuries, and Brandon Delacourt is the only heir. He has been away from Eldoren for the past year; last I heard, he had gone north to Andrysia.”

  I tried to remember if I had seen him before. But I knew I would have remembered him if I had. “Aunt Serena never told me anything about this family, and he wasn’t at the palace for the ball either.”

  Rafe laughed softly at this. “You won’t catch Brandon Delacourt dead at a ball. He is a notorious loner, no one ever sees much of him. His family doesn’t sit on the council of nobles, and I suspect that’s why your aunt didn’t put him on your list of family names to learn.” He lowered his voice to a barely perceptible whisper. “Earl Delacourt, Brandon’s father, went mad almost twenty years ago when his only daughter, Brandon’s older sister, flung herself out of that tower and killed herself.” Rafe pointed to the tallest tower of Briarwood Castle that pierced the sky, looming over a deadly cliff that dropped hundreds of feet into the rocky base of the hills.

  “They say she was like a mother to Brandon after his own mother died in childbirth,” Rafe went on. “No one has seen the old earl in over a decade, but we presume he is alive. Brandon is a viscount, but everyone knows he’s the real earl, except in name.”

  “How awful.” I clutched the saddle as the horse ambled uphill toward the eerie stone castle. “Why? Why did she do it?” I couldn’t shake the image of a young girl flinging herself from the top of the tower. I looked up. It was so high that parts of the castle were still shrouded in mist and cloud.

  “Riora was many years older than Brandon, the earl’s daughter from his first wife,” said Rafe, trying to keep his horse in check as we navigated the narrow road, which fell into a steep drop. “The story goes she was in love with a man who married another. On the day of their wedding she ended her life.”

  Tears welled in my eyes for the grief the poor girl must have felt; enough for her to end her own life over a lost love. I hoped I would never have to experience that sort of despair in my lifetime.

  “So, who was the man?” I asked Rafe, still wondering what kind of person caused the destruction of a whole family without a backward glance.

  Rafe shrugged. “I don’t know. I was too young at the time. And Brandon never speaks about it.” He rode forward as I held on tight. Kalen had to fall behind, as there was not much room to maneuver the horses.

  “Stick to the left,” Rafe called out to Kalen as the small path leading to the castle became narrower. Walls of jagged rock created a narrow pass we had to navigate before we came to the castle walls. “Follow me.”

  We rode through the massive gates and into the enormous outer courtyard of Briarwood Castle, where towering stone walls enclosed us in their shadows. Fur-clad guards walked the battlements, vigilant of anyone or anything approaching the mountain fortress. Gray towers speared the night sky, and the moon finally decided to peek out at us from behind low-hanging clouds, lighting up the castle in its ghostly glow.

  Grooms ran up to take their master’s horse as Brandon Delacourt jumped off his steed and strode up the wide steps to the great wooden door of the castle. He stopped for a moment to address his servants. “See that the rooms in the east wing are made ready for my guests.” He pushed back the hood of his fur-lined cloak. “I will see them shortly in the library.”

  “And the prisoner, milord?” said one guard.

  Brandon turned his cold gaze on the guard. “I think you are acquainted with the lodgings for prisoners, soldier.” His words were clipped. “Put Mr. Gold in the dungeons. I will deal with him later.”

  The frost of his orders hung in the air as the guards, servants, and grooms scurried off to do Lord Delacourt’s bidding.

  Rafe gave me his hand, but this time I refused to let anyone help me down. I could get on and off a horse on my own. It was time I became more independent. Now that I was wearing my traveling clothes all the time—thi
ck woolen leggings, a warm tunic, and high boots—I remembered how much more comfortable pants were, instead of running around the countryside in flowing dresses, which were extremely impractical for what I needed to do.

  My boots slipped on the frosty cobblestones as I stepped closer to speak privately with Rafe. “What are they going to do to Marcus?”

  “I will talk to Brandon. I’m sure they have the wrong person. I know Marcus, and he is not a killer.”

  A guard approached and asked us to follow him.

  “It’s become too cold,” said Kalen, rubbing his hands together and hopping about. “Come on, you two, for once we will have some real food and a warm room to sleep in. Questing is not my favorite way to pass time—all you ever end up with is a very long and tedious journey.”

  Rafe shook his head and I laughed at Kalen as we followed the guard up the wide stone steps and into Briarwood Castle.

  Blending perfectly with the rock face, the stone castle was unfriendly and gloomy, its different parts connected by a maze of corridors spilling out from a big entrance hall. The guard lit a wooden torch and led us to a very long flight of steps. This castle was going to be even more difficult to get around than Silverthorne Castle, which, although larger, had more open spaces, big windows, and light, airy corridors. Here everything looked the same: dull, gray, and dark.

  The guard led us to the library where Lord Delacourt was to meet us. A fire had already been lit, warming the vast space. Leatherbound tomes lined the shelves, the higher ones collecting dust, looking as though they hadn’t been read in a long time. Normally a library would have me very excited, but tonight my eyes skimmed over the books, more concerned with thoughts of why Delacourt had brought us here and whether Marcus was innocent.

  I had gradually become suspicious of everyone. These past few months in Avalonia had changed me, and I finally realized how naïve I had been when I first came here—trusting everyone with my secrets and always looking for the good in people. But that had stopped, and I saw enemies everywhere. Though I knew it was better to be suspicious than to get myself killed, I did wonder if constantly looking for the darkness in people was better than seeing the light.