“From what I understand, Gabriel Silverthorne is rotting away in Morgana’s dungeons,” said Silias. “He will break. They always do.”
I didn’t know what to say as doubt crept in. What if he was right, what if they had already broken Uncle Gabriel and had the fourth key? They could be coming for the book right now.
“Gabriel Silverthorne will never give up,” Penelope said softly. “He will get out of the dungeons eventually, of that I have no doubt. He is the most resourceful mage I have ever met. Do not underestimate the mages just yet; they are not as weak as we perceive them to be.”
“We can argue about this for centuries,” said the silver-haired fae elder, “but we don’t have that luxury. Something has to be done. We cannot sit around waiting for Morgana to come to Elfi with the Dark Dagger and take the Book of Abraxas.”
“That is not the only reason she will come,” said Lord Silias, standing up and leaning on the table for support. “Morgana will come for her.” He pointed one long pale finger at me.
I clenched my fists and held my tongue, reminding myself for the umpteenth time that if the fae threw me out I would have nowhere to go.
“Enough!” said the queen of the fae, standing up slowly. And the room went silent. “We are not sitting here doing nothing, Dyanara.” She looked pointedly at the silver-haired fae elder. “Plans have already been set in motion. When Aurora is ready she will lead a fae army to Illiador and take back her throne. We will end Morgana’s rule once and for all.”
“And when will she be ready?” said Dyanara. “We have received word that Queen Morgana’s army is already moving south toward Elfi.”
“And what about the Dark Dagger?” said Silias. “We cannot send our remaining warriors into battle only to be swallowed up by the Dagger’s evil curse. No fae can touch the Dark Dagger without being pulled inside. Morgana will obliterate our race completely.”
“That is why we need Aurora,” said Izadora. “Being half fae, she is the only one of us who can touch the Dagger without being trapped—her mage side anchors her to this world.” She paused and flicked a pointed look at me. “I do not trust anyone else with it. We cannot let another mage get their hands on the Dark Dagger to use against us in the future. That is why Aurora is here and training with us. When she is ready she will lead our army against Morgana and retrieve the Dagger of Dragath.”
So that was her plan. She was afraid of the Dagger and needed me because I could touch it. It only worked on the High Fae. Which is probably the reason my grandmother had hesitated to get the Dagger back until now; she always intended for me to be the one to get the Dagger for her. She was a cunning ruler and a master strategist. I never realized she needed me more than I needed her.
“How do we know she won’t use the Dagger against us?” said one of the Elders who had not spoken until now. I recognized him from the feast, but I didn’t know his name. “She is half mage, how do we know her loyalties lie with us and not with them? How do we know she will not keep the Dagger for herself or give it to the mages to use as a sword over our heads forever?”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” said the fae queen, her eyes narrowing. “Aurora will prove her loyalty to the fae before she is granted our army.”
Dyanara scrunched her eyebrows together. “And how are you going to ensure that?”
“Aurora will marry one of the High Fae,” Izadora announced.
“What!” I blurted out, unable to stop myself. “That was not our agreement.”
Izadora raised her eyebrows. “Have you forgotten your oath? You said you would do everything I asked.” Her gold eyes flashed. “If you do not marry into a powerful fae family, our army will never follow you into battle. It is the only way to ensure their loyalty—and yours.”
“And who am I supposed to marry?” I said, crossing my arms. This was going too far, but if I refused outright, my oath would be broken and I would never get her help.
My grandmother looked back at me, unflinching. “You will marry Prince Tristan before the spring festival of Ostara is over, and you will become a princess of the Night Court. Your children will be more fae than mage, and they will be my heirs.”
I found Tristan stalking the hallways and ran up to him.
“Did you know?” I asked, falling into step with him.
He flicked a glance at me but didn’t smile. “Yes. Your grandmother summoned me before the council meeting and expressed her wish to have us wed before the spring festival.”
“And you agreed?” My hands balled into fists. “She can’t force us to marry.”
“She can.” Tristan sighed sharply and stopped to look at me. “And she will. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t wish to be bound by wedlock to you, but I had no choice either. I, too, am compelled by my oath to do as she commands.”
“I can’t get married. We can’t get married. I don’t want to marry anyone, not yet, I’m only seventeen.” I was babbling, and my brain screamed in protest that I had no other way out. I didn’t want to be forced to marry. Rafe was not an option, but I still did not want to marry anybody else.
“I don’t have time for this,” Tristan growled and resumed walking. “There have been reports of attacks on the training camps in the southern range of the Wildflower Mountains.”
“What sort of attacks?” I asked, running after him.
“Werewraiths.”
“Then let me come with you,” I said, finally catching up with him. “I know how to fight them, I can help.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said abruptly, “you need to practice anyway. Just don’t get killed.”
“I’ll do my best.” I grinned, despite the situation. At least Tristan didn’t coddle me like the others did. I had to learn to make my own decisions, and I knew I could fight werewraiths. I was fire-fae, this was what I was made for. Only concentrated silver fire could kill a werewraith. The other fae would be defenseless against them.
“But I’m not taking you into the southern mountains without backup.”
My spine stiffened. “I can be your backup.”
“You are not going to be watching my back. I will be watching yours. The mountains are treacherous and there are creatures living there that are more ancient and dangerous than any you have come across. I would prefer not to have my potential betrothed killed before the wedding. Cade is my backup.”
“And who is Cade’s backup?” I huffed.
“He doesn’t need any,” said Tristan, walking into the armory. “He has me.”
I rolled my eyes. Tristan was afraid of nothing, and I was glad to have him on my side. As a friend he was great, and once you got used to his moodiness and temper, he wasn’t so bad. But marrying him was something altogether different.
I would have to find a way to get out of it without breaking my oath to my grandmother.
The Temple
Dawn broke over the snowy peaks of the Wildflower Mountains, bathing the hidden valley of Iris in its warm glow. Most of the castle was still asleep when Tristan, Cade, and I began our journey to the southern mountain range.
Two griffins were waiting outside the city gates, but Snow wasn’t back yet, and I was disappointed. I missed my pegasus and hoped she was okay.
Tristan helped me onto the griffin and jumped up behind me, taking the reins as I held on to the light saddle. The griffin tensed, spread its massive wings, and with a jerk pounced into the sky. It was so sudden, I would have fallen off if Tristan hadn’t been holding me. I guess griffin riding was different from riding a pegasus. The griffin stretched its vast wings as it caught a strong wind and we soared over the clouds toward the southern slopes of the mountains.
The griffins were faster than the pegasus, and by noon we had reached our destination. The sun was high in the azure sky as we descended into a clearing within the thickly forested southern range of the Wildflower Mountains. The cold wind bit through my clothes, and the ground was wet and muddy from the melting overnight frost.
The winter had not abated, though spring was creeping closer. Still, Elfi was far warmer than the northern kingdoms; the temperatures in lands like Andrysia and Kelliandria were well below freezing in the winter months.
The training camp was in full swing. Everywhere, fae of all shapes and sizes trained with swords and shields, staffs, bows, spears, and other deadly looking weapons. The clash of steel and the smell of sweat filled the air as High Fae moved among the warriors and inspected the rigorous training. Demi-fae were the bulk of the army; they had been recruited from all over the kingdom along with fae creatures like centaurs, nymphs, and other elementals.
Tristan had told me that when they came of age, the best warriors in the towns and villages were sent to these camps, which were situated all over the Wildflower Mountains at regular intervals. They were then trained and recruited as soldiers and sent back to their respective courts, where they either joined the grand duke’s guard or army. The best of these were recruited to defend the Royal Court and the city of Iris.
In one corner of the clearing a group of dryad warriors, tree maidens with green skin and flowing hair, practiced archery with the centaurs and satyrs. Many of the warriors stopped training and turned to look at us as we flew into the camp.
“The latest sighting of the werewraiths was nearest this camp.” Tristan jumped off the griffin and helped me dismount. “I will talk to the commander and find out what I can. In the meantime—” he paused, looking at Cade, “—take her to the guest lodgings. I will meet you there.” He stalked off into the crowd of training warriors, who quickly moved out of the way to let the Dark Prince of the Night Court through. In the training camps he was more than a legend, the greatest fire-fae warrior of the Elite Guard. I noticed many of them whispering in hushed, awed voices as their eyes followed him around the camp.
Cade led me to the far end of the clearing. Mud and rock gave way to the surrounding forest, at the edge of which rested a few small stone houses, lodgings for the warriors. Tents were also laid out among the trees, as the camps were getting more crowded because of new recruits brought in to train for the upcoming war.
The little stone house Cade led me to was rustic to say the least. Four wooden pallets lay on the cold stone floors, covered with blankets and furs, and a small fire flickered in the fireplace. I moved closer to warm my hands. It was a dismal blaze; I shot a small fire strike at the dying embers, the flames roaring to life.
“Much better,” said Cade. “Mage magic is definitely useful for a few things.”
I had learned during my time here that the magical fire of the fae was different in that it couldn’t create a living flame as mages could. Silver fire burned as much and could destroy demons, but it couldn’t produce the warmth of a real fire and a golden flame.
The next night we sat by the flickering fire in the tiny cottage, warming ourselves after a long day trying to track the werewraiths through the forest. “They must have moved on,” Tristan said, putting his sword to the side as he packed a small saddlebag. “The camp commander says there is another camp close by that was attacked; we will check it out next.”
Just then I heard a commotion outside.
Tristan jumped up, his sword in his hand, and rushed out of the door toward the sound. I grabbed my sword and followed him as the commander of the training camp charged up to him.
“Your Grace,” he shouted, his face flushed. “Your Grace, the temple on the south face of the mountain has been attacked by werewraiths. The patrols just came in. Half my men are dead.”
“Let’s go,” Tristan growled, glancing at me.
The griffins were waiting, and Cade had already mounted. I jumped up and Tristan followed, settling himself behind me on the back of the enormous beast.
“The centaurs are already on their way there,” shouted the commander as the griffin crouched, spread its massive wings, and shot into the sky.
“Werewraiths would never attack a temple of the Great Goddess on their own. They are being controlled by someone, a powerful spirit-fae,” said Tristan in my ear as we flew over the forested mountains, down to the southern slopes.
“Who could it be?” I shouted over the sound of the wind. “And why target the temples?”
“When they were randomly attacking training camps, I wasn’t so sure what they were after,” said Tristan, his breath warming my neck. “The training camps are situated in such a way as to guard the temples. Now I know what they want.”
“What is it? What do they want that the priestesses have?”
“The Fae Codex,” said Tristan flatly as the griffins flew lower toward a great stone structure covered in vines and creepers, jutting out through the towering trees.
I heard a blood-curdling scream from the forest, and a great roar followed. The two griffins swooped down toward it and landed in front of the temple. Cade and Tristan had already jumped off before we reached the ground.
I focused my power and jumped right after Tristan, landing on my feet nimbly as a cat. I took off my amulet, my fae senses taking over as my powers blazed to the surface. Unsheathing my sword from the scabbard on my back, I ran to the temple. Screams and snarls came from inside, and I practically flew up the great stone stairs, taking two steps at a time.
The temple was a mess, the main hall littered with bodies of priestesses. It was as we feared: a pack of werewraiths were wreaking havoc, tearing and slashing and spilling priestess blood all over the stone floors.
The werewraiths turned to us, new arrivals to their bloodbath. Their red eyes glowed and their twisted bodies stunk of rot and decay, a foul stench I couldn’t forget having endured—the smell of death and darkness.
I pushed my magic into my sword and it lit up, silver flames licking at the steel. Tristan lunged at the nearest creature, and the carnage began afresh as he and Cade sliced through shadow, bone, and muscle, twin swords blazing in each hand.
Blood roared in my ears as I created a dagger of silver fire and flung it at the werewraith coming at me. It thrashed to the ground, and I raised my sword, slashing its neck.
Another werewraith leapt.
I lifted my left hand and shot a beam of silver fire at it, pinning it to the wall. It fought and snarled and tried to push itself free. I ran to the creature and slashed across its chest. It screamed and fell as I ran the flaming sword through its back. It burst into black ash, disappearing into the shadows.
Tristan and Cade had finished off the rest of the pack. But a few of the werewraiths escaped and the centaurs hunted them down, galloping into the thickly forested mountains.
Tristan came up to me and inspected me closely. “Are you all right? Did they bite you anywhere?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.” I looked myself over and put my amulet back on. Whoever was after the codex was powerful, and I had to be careful. Without my amulet I was too exposed out in the mountains. Anyone with enough spirit magic could easily find me.
“Werewraith poison is incredibly strong.” Tristan bent down beside a fallen priestess. Her green robes were spread out beneath her mangled body like a patch of summer grass, stained with blotches of dark blood that seeped from her many wounds.
“She’s gone.” He bowed his head. “We were too late.”
There was a groan from the far end of the hall, near the altar stone. A priestess was still alive.
I rushed over to her. Blood seeped from the slashes on her chest, and I could see the darkness of the poison that ran beneath her skin, a cobweb of black nearing her heart.
Tristan put his hand on my shoulder. “You cannot heal her,” he whispered, bending down beside me. “The poison has already reached her heart.”
There was a flicker of movement as she raised her small hand, placing it delicately on mine. “Abraxas,” she said, forcing her words out in a hoarse croak. “Find him. Destroy the book.” The priestess breathed her last and her hand fell limp. It grew cold as her life slowly slipped away.
I looked at Tristan, confusion
apparent on my face. “What did she mean?”
Tristan took my hand. “Come, we can discuss this back at the camp.”
There was a howl in the distance. Cade ran up to us. “Let’s go, there is another pack out there.”
“We need to leave, Aurora,” said Tristan, pulling me up by the arm. “Now.”
We exited the temple and ran down the steps.
A shadow stopped us in our tracks.
A small, hooded figure stood at the bottom of the stairs. Tristan and Cade simultaneously stepped in front of me, their swords and magic ready.
The figure removed her hood as the moon shone overhead. An old, weathered face with long white hair looked back at me.
“Maggie?” I gasped, moving past my companions. “Is that you?”
The figure nodded, and a familiar voice said, “We meet again, Aurora Shadowbreaker. Follow me, we haven’t much time. I will explain everything.”
Tristan held me back. “We don’t know if this is really a person you know or a shapeshifter,” he said, his eyes flat, his muscles tensed. “Who is she?”
“There is more than one pack of werewraiths in these mountains,” said Magdalene calmly. “And creatures far more dangerous than them, too. We cannot talk freely here.” She paused, her violet eyes flickering with silver swirls. “But the warrior is right, this is not my true form.”
Magic started to swirl around her as she spoke. Her long white hair changed into strands of spun gold, while her wrinkles disappeared and her skin became flawlessly beautiful. She grew in stature as her body changed, shedding the tattered robes to reveal golden feathers and the body of a huge owl with the head of a young woman. But her eyes remained the same—violet tinged with silver stars—and I recognized Maggie within them.
Tristan’s eyes widened. “You’re an Alkana?”
“What’s an Alkana?” I had never heard of them before.
The Rise of the Dawnstar (The Avalonia Chronicles Book 2) Page 22
