Darkdawn--Book Three of the Nevernight Chronicle

by Jay Kristoff

  “You told me the pool beneath Godsgrave was made of the pieces of the Moon that wished only to destroy. All his rage, all his hatred, left to fester in the dark. What do you think will happen now that the most powerful man in all Itreya has them inside himself?”

  “HE’LL GO SLOWLY MAD,” Tric replied. “AND THEN, INSTEAD OF RENEWING THE WORLD, HE’LL SEEK TO UNMAKE IT. HIS RULE WILL BE ONE OF CHAOS. HATRED AND MURDER.”

  Mia dragged her hand through her hair. Cigarillo smoke and the wine’s red hum filling the hollow nothing inside her chest.

  “He has my brother,” she said. “I have to find Cleo.”

  Mercurio scowled. “Scaeva’s got nowhere to run and no one to hide behind now. We’ve got a sorcerii. A pair of gladiatii. Two of the sharpest assassins in the Republic and a lad who seems near unkillable. We could just head to Godsgrave and gut him where he lives.”

  Sidonius nodded at Mia. “Seems a better plan than your suicide to me…”

  Bladesinger nodded. “Agreed.”

  Mia looked about the assembly, slowly shaking her head.

  “Scaeva’s beyond any of you now,” she murmured. “You can’t help me in this.”

  “You don’t know that, little Crow,” Mercurio said. “We haven’t even tried.”

  In answer, Mia simply held out her hand, palm upward. The black around them quavered, the darkness stirred. The girl lowered her chin, closed her bloodshot eyes, her hair moving as if in a faint breeze. She slowly curled her fingers into a claw.

  Sidonius cursed. Mercurio caught his breath as Adonai muttered words of power. Everyone in the room found themselves wrapped in tendrils of shadow, coiling about their waists and legs. Mia twisted her fingers like a puppeteer, and each of her comrades cursed or gasped in wonder as they were lifted gently into the air.

  “The truedark I was fourteen,” Mia said, “I reduced the Philosopher’s Stone to ruins. I skipped across Godsgrave in the blink of an eye, cut cohorts of Luminatii to pieces with blades of living darkness, ripped the statue of Aa outside the Basilica Grande to rubble. I had a single fragment of Anais inside me. Goddess knows how many were in that pool of godsblood. And truedark is coming.”

  The darkness sighed and Mia opened her hand again. Gentle as falling feathers, her comrades were borne safely to the ground.

  Her eyes were on her mentor.

  “He’s got Jonnen, Mercurio.”

  “We can still get him back, we can still—”

  “Scaeva’s stronger than me now. Than all of us. At truedark, he’ll be stronger still.” Mia shook her head, took a long and bitter drag on her smoke. “I have to even the scales. And there’s only one place where that kind of power exists.”

  A cold silence settled on the room, until Sidonius cleared his throat.

  “Crow…” He proffered the Nevernight Chronicles. “Have you read these?”

  Mia eyed the books with disdain. “Only a wanker reads her own biography, Sid. Especially if it’s got footnotes.”

  “The first page…,” Sid murmured. “It tells how your story ends.”

  Mia dragged on her smoke, exhaled gray.

  “All right, do tell,” she finally sighed.

  “You reduce the Republic to ashes,” Sid said.

  “You leave Godsgrave at the bottom of the sea,”’Singer nodded.

  “I sense a ‘but’ waiting in the wings,” Mia said.

  “You die,” Mercurio said.

  Mia looked to her mentor. The man who’d raised her. Who’d given her a home and love and laughter when everything else had been taken away from her. Noting the tears shining in his eyes as her father’s voice echoed in her head.

  “If you start down this road, daughter mine…”

  “You die, Mia,” Mercurio repeated.

  She stood silent for an age. Looking out at the books below them, row upon black row. All those lives. All those stories. Tales of bravery and love, of good triumphing over evil, of joy and happy ever afters. But real life wasn’t like that, was it? Thinking of eyes of sunsburned blue and lips she’d never taste again and—

  “Do I get him, at least?” she asked softly. “Scaeva?”

  Mercurio looked to the books in Sid’s hands. Shaking his head.

  “It doesn’t say.”

  “Well. Looks like we’ve some suspense left after all, neh?”

  Her old mentor narrowed his eyes. “So eager for an ending now, are we? Lost your girl and your hope besides, is that it? You’ve fought your whole life, Mia Corvere. Goddess knows you’ve seen times this bleak before. And you walked through. Giving all, not giving in. This needn’t be the end.”

  Mia exhaled a plume of gray and shrugged.

  “Even daylight dies.”

  Her comrades looked to each other. Fear in their eyes. Silence between them dark as the evernight above their heads, as the shadow now settled over Mia’s heart.

  The girl glanced at Aelius with flint-black eyes.

  “Seems you get your way after all, Chronicler. I suppose this is farewell.”

  He sighed and slowly nodded.

  “S’pose it is.”

  “Cheerio, you withered old bastard. Thanks for all the smokes.” Mia’s lips twisted in an empty smile. “Fuck you for the whole poisoned chalice of destiny thing, though.”

  “Good fortune, lass,” the chronicler said sadly. “However it ends, at least you had a story to tell.”

  Mia crushed out her smoke underheel. Looking her old mentor in the eye. The man who’d taken her in. Who’d loved her like a daughter. Who’d been more of a father to her than any of them.

  “Don’t do this, Mia,” he begged. “Please.”

  “I can’t just leave Jonnen with him, Mercurio. What would that make me? What have the last eight years been about, if not familia?”

  “But the map’s gone,” he said. “You don’t even know the way.”

  She closed her eyes then. Thinking of bow-shaped lips and long tresses of golden blond. Gentle curves and sharp shadows and freckled skin on crumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. So clear in her mind she could almost reach out and touch her.

  A sight she’d never forget, as long as she lived.

  “I remember the way,” she whispered.

  * * *

  “Least I’m not traveling by horse,” Mia sighed.

  She slung her supplies onto the camel’s back, shoulders aching at the strain. Mia knew trekking into the deepwastes was going to be more dangerous than sticking her face in a gorewasp’s nest, so heading out by wagon was a far more sensible option.* But truth was, not enough beasts had survived her arkemist’s salt explosion to haul anything of the kind. Flaming shrapnel had torn through the stables during the blast, most of the mounts had been maimed or killed. Of every beast in the Red Church pens, only one of them had miraculously escaped mostly unscathed.

  The beast in question growled a complaint, staring at Mia with mud-brown eyes.

  “Shut the fuck up, Julius,” she growled.

  Sidonius and Bladesinger stood on the stairwell, watching her load her gear.

  “How long, the journey?” Sid asked.

  Mia straightened, dragging her hair behind her ear. “At least two weeks across the deep Whisperwastes by my reckoning.”

  “Truedark will fall soon,” Sid said, meeting her gaze.

  “Last Hope to Godsgrave is at least eight weeks by sea,” Bladesinger said. “And the Ladies of Storms and Oceans still want you dead, last we checked. Presuming we don’t all die horribly out there, how are you planning on getting us back to the ’Grave in time to deal with Scaeva?”

  “Who’s ‘us’?” Mia asked.

  Bladesinger frowned as she tied back her locks. “Who do you think?”

  “You’re not coming with me, ’Singer. Neither you, Sid.”

  “Pig’s arse,” Sidonius said. “We’re with you to the end.”

  “All of us,” came a voice.

  There on the stairs stood the last two senior members of the Red Church. Ad
onai was dressed in faun leather breeches and a thin robe of white silk. He also wore a broad-brimmed hat, azurite spectacles, and white gloves—obviously to spare his skin the touch of the sunslight. Beside him stood Mercurio, who’d abandoned his bishop’s robes in favor of a more utilitarian tunic and britches. His walking stick beat crisply upon the stone as the pair made their way down to the stable floor.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mia asked.

  “With thee, little darkin,” the speaker replied.

  Mia blinked. “No, you’re not.”

  “All evidence points to the contrary,” her old mentor said, shouldering his pack.

  “Mercurio,” Mia said, placing a hand on his arm. “You can’t come on weeks-long trek into a magically polluted hellscape. You’re eighty years old.”

  “I’m sixty-fucking-two,” the old man growled.

  Mia simply stared.

  Mercurio put hands on hips in indignation. “Listen here, little Crow, I was slitting throats when you were knee-high to a scabdog—”

  “That’s my point,” Mia said.

  The girl looked between Sid and ’Singer, Mercurio and Adonai, shaking her head.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But even if I wanted you to risk yourselves, there’s not enough camels to carry us all. Are you going to walk to the Crown?”

  “If needs be,” the old man growled.

  Mia looked between the bishop and speaker. “You two are all that remains of the Church hierarchy. If I actually pull this off, if the balance is truly restored between Light and Night, we need people in charge who actually know what the Red Church is supposed to represent.” Mia raised an eyebrow at Mercurio’s walking stick. “And no offense, but it’s been a while since any of you had to do any frontline fighting…”

  Adonai began to protest. “Thou shalt be in need of all—”

  “Am I the Lady of Blades, or am I not?”

  “… Thou art,” the speaker replied.

  “Then you’re staying here,” she said, looking at Mercurio. “If I don’t return … If I fail, you’re the only ones who can rescue Jonnen and Marielle.”

  “But how will we get to Godsgrave in time?”’Singer asked.

  “Aye,” Mercurio asked. “Scaeva’s destroyed the local chapel. And the blood pool along with it. We’re cut off from the ’Grave.”

  Mia looked to Adonai. “The Lady of Blades never struck me as the kind of woman who wouldn’t leave herself a back door.”

  The speaker slowly nodded. “Another pool there be. In Drusilla’s palazzo.”

  Mia looked among her friends, her eyes finally resting on Sidonius. “I need you to do this for me. If I don’t make it back…”

  Sidonius breathed deep, his eyes shining.

  “Please, Sid. Promise me.”

  The big man sighed. But finally, as she knew he would, he nodded. Because if Mia could’ve had a big brother, she’d have chosen him.

  “Aye, Crow. I swear it,” he said.

  Mia’s chest was empty. Her whole body numb. But somehow, she managed to conjure a grateful smile. Squeezing ’Singer’s hand. Kissing Sid’s cheek.

  “I’ll not leave you to face this alone,” Mercurio said.

  “I’m not alone,” Mia said, turning to face her old mentor. “I’ve never been alone. You’ve been with me ever since that grubby, spoiled little brat stormed into your store and demanded you buy her brooch. You saved my arse that turn. And in some small way, you’ve been saving it ever since.”

  Mercurio scowled, his ice-blue eyes welling with tears.

  “Never took a wife,” the old man said. “Never had a familia. Didn’t seem fair in my line of work. But … if I ever had a daughter—”

  “You had a daughter,” Mia said.

  The girl threw her arms around the old man and squeezed hard as she could.

  “And she loves you,” she whispered.

  Mercurio closed his eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks. He kissed the top of her head, shaking his own.

  “I love you, too, little Crow.”

  “I’m sorry it had to end this way,” she murmured.

  “It’s not the last chapter yet.”

  “Not yet.”

  Mia pulled back, leaving his waistcoat a little damp. She dragged her sleeve across her nose, tucked her tear-soaked hair behind her ears.

  “If…”

  She pressed her lips together, breathed deep.

  “If I don’t come back … remember me, neh? Not just the good parts. The ugly parts and the selfish parts and the real parts. Remember all of it. Remember me.”

  Mercurio nodded. Swallowed hard. “I will.”

  Mia looked about the Mountain’s belly for the last time. There was still no whisper of the ghostly choir in the air; all was silence. But that seemed fitting somehow. She closed her eyes a moment, letting the quiet wash over her, unearthly and beatific. She felt it tingling along her skin like music, down her spine, the song of the dark between the stars. Crowning her shoulders with blackest wings. Wishing her good fortune. Kissing her goodbye. Her heart ached that another hadn’t been here to do that. All the things they could’ve been …

  Mia drew a deep breath. Feeling a cat-shaped hole in her chest, and all the fear and sorrow and anguish that had seeped in to fill it. But she pushed it back. Fought it down. Thinking of her brother, her father, her mother. The words she’d been taught when she was but a girl of ten. The words that had shaped her, ruled her, ruined her.

  The words that had made her all she was.

  Never flinch.

  Never fear.

  Never forget.

  She kissed Mercurio’s cheek, nodded farewell to Sid and ’Singer, then took hold of her camel’s reins and led him out into the dying sunslight.

  Giving all, not giving in.

  “Farewell, gentlefriends.”

  * * *

  Tric was waiting for her outside the Mountain.

  Whisperwinds played in his long saltlocks, shifting them about his broad shoulders. His stare was fixed on the eastern horizon. His gravebone blades were crossed at his back, black leathers hugging his frame. As always, he seemed some masterwork, inexplicably placed on a rocky outcropping in a nowhere stretch of the Ashkahi wastes. Until he moved, that is, raising one ink-black hand and tucking one thick lock fallen across his face back behind his ear. His eyes were bottomless black, shot through with tiny pricks of illumination. Narrowed against the dying light.

  Saan had sunk so low it was almost hidden below the horizon. Saai loitered yet in the heavens, the Knower twisting the sky into an awful, lonely violet. But truedark was near now. Tric was almost as close as he’d ever be to what he’d been. As she walked up beside him, Mia could feel the gathering dark in her bones.

  “IT’S NOT FAIR,” he sighed. “NONE OF THIS IS.”

  “I know.”

  “I LOVE YOU, MIA.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  He turned to look at her. Tall and beautiful and carved of sorrow.

  “CAN I KISS YOU GOODBYE?”

  Mia blinked. The words like a knife in her chest. “You’re … not coming with me?”

  Tric shook his head. “YOU’D NOT HAVE ME ANYWAY, EVEN IF I OFFERED. IN YOUR HEART, YOU KNOW WHAT WAITS FOR YOU ACROSS THAT DESERT IS FOR YOU ALONE. MUCH AS I WISH TO, I CAN’T HELP YOU FACE WHAT’S TO COME. BUT I KNOW IN THE END, YOU’LL BE THE ONE LEFT STANDING.”

  “That chronicle seemed quite clear that I end horizontal, Tric. Not vertical.”

  Tric only shrugged. “NOTHING IN THIS LIFE IS CERTAIN. ESPECIALLY WHERE AND WHEN IT FINISHES. NO BOOK, NO CHRONICLER, NOT EVEN THE GODDESS HERSELF CAN SEE ALL ENDS. THIS NEEDN’T BE YOURS.”

  “Go on without her, is that what you mean?”

  “I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU LOVED HER, MIA. I’M SORRY.”

  She looked at him then. This beautiful boy who’d dragged himself through the walls of the Abyss for her. The boy who loved her so much, he’d defied death to return to her sid
e. Most would have hated the girl who’d killed them, stolen what was theirs. Most would’ve celebrated, not mourned her death. Seen it as a chance to worm back into Mia’s affections. To plant red roses atop her lover’s grave.

  But not this boy.

  “I know,” Mia said, heart aching.

  “I MEANT WHAT I TOLD YOU IN AMAI. YOU ARE MY HEART, MIA. YOU ARE MY QUEEN. I’D DO ANYTHING YOU ASKED ME, AND EVERYTHING YOU WON’T. I DON’T CARE IF IT HURTS ME. I ONLY CARE IF IT HURTS YOU. AND I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  “BUT NOT THE WAY YOU LOVED HER.”

  “Tric—”

  “IT’S ALL RIGHT.” He reached out, touched her face, gentle as first snows. “IT’S NOWHERE NEAR ENOUGH. BUT IT’LL STILL KEEP ME WARM.”

  “I wish…” Mia shook her head, pressing his hand to her cheek. Wondering how many more times her heart could splinter inside her chest. “I wish there was two of me.”

  “THERE ARE, REMEMBER?” The boy smiled, grim and beautiful. “TWO HALVES, WARRING WITHIN YOU. AND THE ONE THAT WILL WIN…”

  “… Is the one that I feed.”

  “DON’T GIVE YOURSELF TO SORROW, MIA. DON’T LOSE THE HOPE INSIDE. MORE THAN ANYTHING YOU ARE, MORE THAN THE COURAGE, THE CUNNING, THE RAGE, YOU’RE THE GIRL WHO BELIEVED. SO LET ME KISS YOU GOODBYE. THEN WALK ON. AND DON’T EVER LOOK BACK.”

  Mia breathed deep, looking up into his eyes.

  “Kiss me, then.”

  He took her hand in his. His eyes were fathomless pools, deep as forever. He ran his thumb across her skin, scabbed and scarred, making her shiver. And eyes locked with hers, he lifted her knuckles to his lips. And he kissed them. Soft as clouds.

  “GOODBYE, MIA CORVERE,” he said, releasing her hand.

  “… That’s it?” she asked.

  “THAT’S IT,” he nodded.

  The wind whispered between them, lonely and longing.

  “Fuck that,” she breathed.

  Mia grabbed his shirt in her fists. And standing up on tiptoes, she dragged him in and kissed his perfect lips. He caught her up in his arms, his body surging against her, mouth open to hers. Squeezing so hard she thought she might break. A dizzying kiss. An endless kiss. A kiss full of sorrow and regret for all the things they might have been, a kiss of love and longing for all the things they’d had, a kiss of joy for all they were, right at that moment. Forever bound in blood and ink, a part of each other’s tale in a story as old as time itself.