The Dark Disciple (The Daybreak Saga Book 2)

by Dan Neil

  “There’s—there is an afterlife!” Jisaazu cried out. “Am I stuck with you forever? Does that mean—is Keia still alive?”

  “Yes,” Aliya giggled, “we’re all alive!”

  “Fuck yeah—we are! I don’t know how, but we’re alive!” Friedrich shouted. “I thought we were dead for sure. What the hell happened?”

  “Keia happened,” Aliya said proudly. “She beat Ezra by herself.”

  Blushing, Jisaazu turned away, eyes falling to the prosthetic limb lying next to her. She quickly attached the leg and tested it out every which way.

  A few minutes later, Keia approached with Myrddin by her side. One by one, she hugged Aliya, Friedrich, and Jisaazu—who struggled initially against the affection but finally accepted.

  “I’m so glad you’re all alive!” Keia exclaimed as Jisaazu pulled away.

  “How did you beat him?” Jisaazu demanded.

  Keia described the battle to them, answering any questions Aliya and Friedrich had. Jisaazu sat quietly and listened.

  Aliya, her tone halfway between hopeful and anxious, asked, “Did you kill him?”

  Keia shook her head. “He escaped.”

  Friedrich asked, “What did you do about that sword of his? If it really was a sword at all, that is. That thing—that thing fucking hurt. Like, wow.”

  “I tried to stay out of his range, but he’s dangerous with those killing spells,” she said.

  Friedrich’s eyebrow raised. “Killing spells?”

  “Those gray bolts.”

  His face turned white. “That’s what those were? By Aion, I’m so glad I didn’t let any of them hit me! Some got really fucking close!”

  They laughed as Friedrich told his jokes. Even Jisaazu almost flashed a smile. For now, the fight was over. Keia’s lingering sense of dread—the knowledge that their enemy was still out there, and they were still in his territory—was lifted for the moment, like a thin veil in the gentle wind.

  Keia’s gaze met Myrddin’s as he pulled out his wand.

  “I’m afraid I must be leaving,” the wizard said.

  Aliya turned to him and asked, “Well, we’ll see you when we get back to the kingdom, right?”

  The wizard winced. “Keia will explain everything to you. Much has changed in Gaddeaux—and the King’s Council.”

  Keia asked, “You really have to go?”

  Myrddin’s head slowly dipped. “Yes, though I wish I didn’t. Other matters require my attention. But do not fear—we will see each other again in the future. All of you—no matter what happens next, do not lose hope. Protect each other.”

  Keia nodded as the wizard stepped through a portal.

  This won’t be the last time I see him. Keia smiled. That old bastard’s too sly to get himself killed.

  Chapter 52

  The Wild King

  Day 14 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  Myrddin emerged upon a snow-capped peak of the Koaion Mountain range. From above the clouds, he saw the fortress of Paz Beoras carved into the mountainside. Some aspect of the stronghold chilled his soul—everything was still and silent, as if in eternal wait. Not even spirits stirred here—not where Nialarix ruled.

  Be with me, Gaea, he thought as he took a deep breath. After a solemn moment, he reached Twyla.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Only late by an entire day,’ she replied, annoyed. ‘What kept you?’

  ‘Wizard business. I will enlighten you once I am inside.’

  ‘Very well, then. You’ll be arriving in the courtyard—I trust you can find your way?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied as he readied his wand.

  Upon emerging from a portal, he stepped into a plaza filled with pillars, chairs, and walls made of iron. The air was gray and foggy. Two thrones of equal size loomed over the room from a heightened stage. Behind the stage were the only two torches in the dimly lit courtyard. Eight regal swords were fastened to the wall, each affixed alongside seven fading banners. Myrddin recognized them—they were the symbols of old kingdoms conquered by the man who sat before him, and the swords of their kings. Twenty or so people, obscured by darkness, sat on either side of the plaza.

  Upon one of the thrones was a middle-aged man with bright red hair and starved green eyes. His armored hand rested on a scar-ridden chin. In the other hand, he brandished a cruel, crooked sword that looked to be made of human bone and skin. The warlord’s rugged face was worn, but his gaze was otherworldly. Intense and detached—focused on the here and now and everywhere at once.

  Beside Nialarix was a young woman in bejeweled armor and dark ceremonial garb. Myrddin recognized her instantly—her hair was still blond and her eyes still silver, but her gaze was now spiteful and cruel. This was not the girl he remembered.

  Myrddin took his place before the stage. The entire courtyard was eerily silent. In the muted light, the indistinct figures remained perfectly still.

  Lady Marienne’s going to love telling me she told me so.

  “This day was foretold.” Nialarix’s voice was deep and confident, but he spoke quietly, and the wizard strained to hear his words. “In our presence is Myrddin the Wizard—the Ancient One, Maker and Unmaker of Empires, Leader of Inheritance Order, Raiser of Kings—Follower of Rhiannon.”

  The wizard waved aside the pleasantries. “There’s no need for such grandiose introductions. I’m honored to be among your court and counsel.”

  “Ha!” Twyla sneered. “Were it truly such an honor, perhaps you’d have been here at the time we agreed upon. The time you requested.”

  “I have as good a reason as can be given for my absence.”

  Nialarix appeared amused, but there was malice in his eyes. “I’m interested to hear it.”

  “He told me that he had important business to attend to,” Twyla tapped a dragonbone staff tipped with a glowing blue orb against the floor. “Wizard business, I believe you said?”

  Myrddin recognized the staff from a book—his eyes widened. That’s—the Staff of Rhiannon? How did she…

  “Well, wizard?” Nialarix smiled. “Are you confused? Our lady asked a question of you.”

  “I’d say he’s in shock.” Twyla brandished the sacred staff. “He always doubted that I was the Woman Taken by the Wind, but I never let his qualms hold me back—it was always my destiny. And now, the Staff of Rhiannon has proven my claim by choosing me. I am Lady Rhiannon reborn. It may be difficult for him to accept.”

  Nialarix leaned back, watching with dispassion. “You’ve traveled a long way, and spent many of your long years paving the way for Lady Rhiannon’s return. Now she sits before you; it’s a simple matter to answer her question—and to reaffirm your devotion to the cause you pioneered.”

  Myrddin hesitated. Twyla leaned forward, anxiously awaiting his answer. The wizard took a deep breath; he had to tell her the truth.

  “I had to save the Woman Taken by the Wind,” he said.

  A round of murmurs erupted across the courtyard.

  Nialarix’s eyes lit up with amusement as he stared at Twyla, who was bright red in embarrassment and fury.

  Slowly and angrily, she said, “Surely you meant to say you had other business?” Her grip on the staff tightened. “I’ve been here the whole time—not that I’d ever require your protection.”

  “You are not Lady Rhiannon, Twyla,” Myrddin began. “No matter how much you wish it so. I shouldn’t have ever let you believe it. I’ve ascertained the identity of the true Mother of Gaea, and she required my assistance.”

  “You liar!” Twyla stood and leveled the staff at his heart. Quieter, she said, “Don’t think I won’t kill you. Where is the book?”

  “Atlos,” Nialarix said. Twyla turned to face him, her face astonished. “I want to say—Keia? That’s her name, right? The one your entire little group is banking on?” />
  Myrddin’s eyes widened. “How—”

  “You’re not the only one with powerful friends.” Nialarix leaned forward, a half-smile upon his face. “Maybe ally is a better word. I wouldn’t consider that creature a friend. He said something very similar—an Atlos would need help. Come to think of it, that’s why he wanted you here.”

  Myrddin’s frown deepened. “We’ll have it out in the open, then—you’re working with Ashuram. And Twyla, you—you, too?”

  “The book—” Twyla began.

  “Twyla,” Nialarix said, glaring intensely. For a moment she looked frustrated, but after looking into his eyes, she begrudgingly sat. “He doesn’t have it.”

  “But he said—”

  “He lied. He’s lied to you before, hasn’t he?”

  Myrddin reached for his wand under his robes. The meeting was a ruse. They wanted him here to prevent him from helping Keia. Twyla cast a glance at him and stood once more.

  “Don’t let him escape!” Twyla pointed her staff but was too late. Before her spell formed, he fell through a portal. The last thing he saw was Nialarix smiling in malicious amusement. Then, the wizard emerged in the Koaion Mountain range.

  Why do I doubt her? Myrddin thought of Lady Marienne. She’s always right. And I always end up thinking that I should have listened.

  He shuddered. Mar and Lady Marienne had both been right. Nialarix and Twyla were working with Ashuram—Symon didn’t have any idea what was coming. Gaddeaux needed a miracle to stand a chance.

  At least the spellbook was safe. Myrddin sighed wistfully and cast a portal back to where he’d left Axl.

  The Order’s work never stops.

  Chapter 53

  New Paths

  Day 14 of the Season of Life, 1020 YAR

  “Why were you talking with that traitor, Keia?” Jisaazu demanded.

  “Traitor?” Aliya perked up. “What the hell is going on?”

  “He saved me,” Keia told Jisaazu. “He saved all of you. Besides, his betrayal wasn’t—it isn’t what you think. Thank you, by the way, for coming after me.”

  Jisaazu deflected the praise by grumbling, “I had to. You’re my partner.”

  “So—back to the whole treason thing. What’s going on?” Aliya asked again.

  Keia smiled. “It’s—it’s another long story.”

  “Myrddin stole the King’s Spellbook and left the kingdom to work with the Wild King,” Jisaazu said.

  Keia turned back to Aliya. “I guess the kingdom version isn’t such a long story.”

  Aliya appeared perplexed by the news. “Is—is it true?”

  Keia gave a half-smile. “If what he told me is true, he has no intention of working with Nialarix—the Wild King. But yes. He did take the King’s Spellbook, and apparently, he hid it somewhere Symon can’t find it.”

  Aliya nodded. “Keia, I—”

  Keia interrupted, “I need to ask some things first.”

  Aliya frowned. “Of course. Go on, then.”

  “I want you to be honest with me,” Keia insisted.

  “I swear it on mother and father’s graves.” Aliya raised her hand, a guilty expression on her face. “No more lies.”

  “Aleister,” Keia began. “He was the one who took my magic—not Ulrich.”

  Aliya grimaced. “Yes. Yes, it was him.”

  It was true, then. She expected mystery from Myrddin, but Aliya? Carter? For her entire life, everyone Keia trusted had lied to her. Her heart was in freefall as her chest and throat constricted. Blinking away tears, she asked, “Why did he do that to me?”

  Aliya’s eyes drifted toward her feet. “After Ulrich—after everything that happened, well, we were—afraid. All of us. And we weren’t the only ones—Devin’s father said she couldn’t be your friend anymore. The entire neighborhood, even the king was scared. While you were in a coma, Aleister created a spell to seal your power away. It also allowed me to keep track of you, to make sure you didn’t—that nothing like that ever happened to you again. It was the only way.”

  In a low, sorrowful voice, Keia said, “That’s why? Because he was afraid—because everyone was afraid of me?”

  So Ezra didn’t lie.

  “It wasn’t just that,” Aliya said quietly. “The king—he threatened to have you killed. He said you were dangerous. It was the best solution Aleister came up with, but he wasn’t happy about it. He swore he’d help you recover your magic, control it. When he saw how much pain you went through casting spells, he...”

  “He left,” Keia said. “As soon as I was old enough to go to Crown’s—as soon as some of my magic returned.”

  “He couldn’t watch you suffer knowing that he was the reason for it. He felt so guilty.”

  Keia quietly stared at the ground. Aleister had lied to her—everyone had. She thought of the unknown spell she cast during her fight with Ezra; perhaps she was too dangerous to be trusted with such power.

  Maybe anyone would be—right?

  “One more thing,” Keia said, breaking the silence, “Ezra.”

  “I—I know. I’m so sorry, Keia. It’s all my fault. I never should have lied to you—I almost got you killed. I should have realized that he would return.” A tear fell down Aliya’s cheek. “I didn’t want to believe my little brother had become a monster, but I guess—I guess I always knew.”

  “Why did you lie to me? How many others lied to me?”

  Aliya said quietly, “I didn’t think—you were always so quiet, so gentle. I always thought if you knew—I didn’t think you could bear it. Now, looking back, I realize I wasn’t strong enough to tell you—to go back and revisit everything. I’m so sorry, Keia.”

  Keia placed a hand on Aliya’s shoulder. More than anything, Keia was grateful and relieved that they were all alive. A chuckle escaped her lips. Then she said, “I forgive you. I guess I’m not as weak as you thought, huh?”

  “I’ve said it before,” Aliya said, touching her sister’s face. “You were always the strongest of us.”

  Keia frowned. Us.

  “Aliya—Carter, he…”

  Aliya’s eyes lost their shine. “I know.”

  Silence fell over each of them. Keia took the time to remember the dead and wondered if everyone else was doing the same.

  Keia broke the silence. “Is anybody else hungry? Looks like Myrddin left some spell plates behind.”

  They each ate ravenously. After months of uncertainty and loneliness, Keia enjoyed the company. For a time, she hadn’t been sure if she’d see any of them again. Now, she smiled as Aliya and Friedrich bickered over food. Too happy to be annoyed, he cracked a joke—even the stoic Jisaazu accidentally released a short, sweet laugh. Keia wished she would laugh more often upon hearing it.

  Mouth full of potatoes, she said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Jisaazu replied, blushing. Keia giggled.

  Aliya changed the subject. “So, what else changed while I was away?”

  Keia’s expression turned grim. She let Aliya in on Gladios, Gaheris, Lorinal, and her trial.

  After taking it all in, Aliya said in a grim tone, “So there’s going to be a war.”

  Keia nodded. “There’s already a war. The king’s assembling the Grand Army.”

  Aliya looked toward the sky. “Everything’s happening so fast. Ashuram, Ezra, the Wild King—but we can’t lose hope no matter what. We’ll be all right.”

  Keia smiled. “Exactly. We’ll keep moving forward. That’s all we can do.”

  Friedrich jumped in, “For now, I think we need to find a way home.”

  “We have to take it slow,” Aliya said. “We’re all still heavily wounded. Besides, if King Symon is assembling the Foreign Legions, we have some time before the Grand Army marches. We should spend a
s much time as possible recuperating.”

  “I agree,” Keia chimed in. “You all still need to heal. But we can’t wait forever—the Church of Ashuram won’t rest, and we’re in their backyard.”

  “Thank you, Keia,” Jisaazu said out of nowhere.

  “For what?”

  “Saving us. I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

  Keia smiled. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  Jisaazu thought of Ervane. She had found Keia and completed their mission—he hadn’t died in vain.

  “Keia, just a warning,” Jisaazu said, “when we return to Genievon, you might not exactly be welcomed. Symon believes that you’re a traitor. I’ll help however I can, but—I just wanted to let you know.”

  “When I return with Aliya, that will be proof enough of my intent, I hope.”

  The sun began to set over the Plains of Breyten. Despite difficulties looming beyond the horizon, for the first time in months, Keia felt everything was as it should be—out here beyond the cursed forest with family and friends.

  Friedrich was making jokes. Aliya was alternating between laughter and eye-rolling, and even Jisaazu caught herself smiling a few times. Keia closed her eyes and allowed a gentle breeze to take her.

  Everything’s going to be all right.

  —

  Ezra lay beaten and bloodied near Greerwood’s northern edge. Ashuram allowed him to do something forbidden for every member of his church: it allowed him to dream.

  This was not charity. The Master was curious more than anything. It dove into the disciple’s subconscious.

  Let’s see where his mind goes.

  Left to his own devices, Ezra dreamed of times long past: a time Aliya lied and got him in trouble with their mother; playing with his best friend, a boy staying with the Atlos family; a time he warned Carter of a strange man following him; a time his parents were proud of him for casting a spell at an early age. His fondest memory, however, was learning that young Keia, less than a year old, refused to sleep unless he sang to her.