Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  He didn’t seem to notice the figure that stepped into the room until it cleared its throat. He glanced up distractedly from his book, and a slow smile curved his lips.

  “Ah, Bellator. Come in.”

  Bellator obeyed, and with a flick of his hand, the door slammed shut behind her. Her shoulders tensed, and she cast a quick glance at the door.

  “You summoned me, my master?”

  “I did.” He leaned against the back of his chair and examined her face for a moment. “I would like to ask you something, and I want you to be completely truthful in your reply.”

  “Then ask,” she said, and then added quickly, “my master.”

  He picked up a quill from his desk, and scribbled something on one of the scraps of paper beside the book. “How do you feel about the boy?”

  “Excuse me, sire?”

  “You have had more time than I would have liked to observe him. What is it that you see when you look at him?”

  “I see a half-breed, if I can make it past his level of stupidity.”

  Zeldek’s eyes narrowed. “He may be foolish, but his courage makes up for it.”

  “If courage is a sufficient substitute for foolishness. I’ve always seen them as synonymous.”

  His eyes flashed. Lately, it didn’t take much for him to grow angry with her. “You are a different case entirely. Now answer my question!”

  “If you want me to consider his character—”

  “I do.”

  She sighed. “His will is strong, as is his mind. He has a sharp tongue that he is quick to use, and yet at the same time, he feels very deeply. He has a strong grasp on what is right and wrong. If he feels another has been wronged, I believe he will fight for them to his very last breath if need be.”

  “Which can be used against him very easily,” Zeldek remarked, a malicious glint shining in his eyes.

  Bellator drew closer to the desk, scanning the papers that littered it. The majority of them were scrawled with notes, most likely from books that the Master had pored over in recent past. Amongst them, a faded drawing of an arrow on an old parchment caught her eye.

  Her gaze darted back to Zeldek before he could see her interest in his notes. “Why have you brought him here?” she demanded abruptly. “What purpose are you serving by it?”

  Zeldek bent over his book once more. “I told you before. He stands in the way to my rise to power.”

  “Then why bring him here?” She rested her hand on the papers on his desk. “Why not leave him to be worked to death by the ruthless masters you took him from? You know as well as I do that he will only pose more of a threat now that he knows of your existence.”

  “It is true.” Zeldek’s gaze was now lost in the light of the candle. “It would have been easier, and I don’t expect one such as you to understand my reasons for making him aware of his destiny.”

  “‘One such as me’ might understand if you actually told me anything,” she remarked cuttingly.

  “Such feeble remarks,” he said, still gazing into the fire. “Small acts of rebellion that only tighten the chains that bind you even more.”

  Her nostrils flared. “I can speak however I want.”

  “You belong to me, Bellator.” He was smiling now, and Bellator’s insides recoiled. “You will always belong to me. You are my greatest creation, and one day, you will have no choice but to see that.”

  Bellator forced all emotion from her face. “I know, my master. Forgive me for my impertinence.”

  “It will be the same with the boy. Once I have harnessed his power, he will be forced to do whatever I say, and I will at last be able to secure my future. With the two of you under my control, and my full strength returned, I will be invincible.”

  “And you are so confident that you will be able to break him that easily?”

  “He has one day left to decide his fate. If he refuses me, I will spend his power until there is nothing left of him, and then I will cast him into the abyss to stay until the end of time.”

  Bellator shuddered. She had seen the abyss once, from a distance. It wouldn’t be a place she would want to spend the rest of eternity.

  “You are certain that he is the one, then?”

  He nodded. “I have been searching for one such as him for many years. One whose heart is so pure it is almost incorruptible, so that I may have the pleasure of corrupting it.”

  Bellator’s mind worked quickly. One who’s heart was incorruptible... where had she heard those words before? And that’s when she finally knew why the Master wanted this Ealdred.

  “And if the boy does accept your offer, will you make him your son like you promised?”

  “My dear general,” Zeldek said with a chuckle. “If he accepts my offer, I will know that he is not the one I have been looking for.”

  So his fate is inevitable, she thought to herself, once again disgusted with the Master’s methods.

  “Is that all you wanted me for?” Bellator asked.

  “Yes, that will be all. You may retire to the forest for the evening.”

  “Actually, I will be in my room in the palace tonight.” She had to force out the next words. “Have a nice evening, sire.”

  He didn’t bother to return her blessing.

  With a bow, she turned and left the room. When the door slammed behind her, she didn’t look back.

  Her mind was made up.

  Chapter Twelve

  M y knife is in my hand as I jerk awake from a light, restless sleep. Through the thick darkness, I cannot make out what just awakened me. But I can hear its slow, muffled breathing in the warm night air. The mattress creaks above my head and a foot shuffles against the floor beside me.

  Someone is sitting on my bed.

  I put my knife flat against my chest, quietly kicking my blanket off of me. Then I roll out from under the bed. Leaping to my feet, I pounce in the direction of the breathing, slashing wildly through the darkness in front of me.

  My blade clashes with something metal, and a peal of mocking laughter fills the air. I step back, pointing my knife in the direction of the untimely mirth.

  “You sleep under your bed?” Bellator scoffs.

  My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of her voice, and I retreat another step.

  “You!” I work to keep the fear from revealing itself in my voice. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “Put that knife down, half-breed. You use it too much.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Simple. I am trained to fight in the dark. It wouldn’t be a fair fight for you.”

  Based on previous experience, I don’t think that she cares about what is fair and what isn’t.

  “I didn’t come to fight with you, Ealdred.” The mockery in her tone as she says my name is hardly convincing. “Sit down before I lose my temper!”

  But I don’t sit down. “I don’t trust you,” I say.

  “Good. I wouldn’t trust me either.” She waits. “Listen, you can keep the knife, but sit down! We need to talk.”

  I don’t agree and I don’t budge. “Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.”

  “No, it can’t!” she snaps. “I don’t want Zeldek knowing that I’m here. Even the Lord of the Aemurel needs to sleep sometimes, and he’s asleep right now.”

  “Yes, well you aren’t supposed to be talking to me,” I remind her. “He told me so, and for once, I agree with him.”

  She makes an irritated noise in her throat. “He also told me not to let you leave your tower. And did I listen to him then?” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “For pity’s sake, sit down already!”

  I give in. She has remained surprisingly patient thus far. I’d hate to see what would happen if I push her any further. Feeling around in the darkness, I find the edge of the bed and perch on it, my dagger at the ready.

  She strikes a match. A flame shoots up, lighting a small portion of the room and casting long shadows on the wall. She ignites the candle on my nig
htstand and flicks out the match. Then she sits down across from me, leaning back into the pillows.

  The bruising on her face has faded slightly since last I saw her, but she has a tired look about her that is unnatural to her usual reserved appearance. Glinting armour and sable cape aside, she wears a stiff black and gold dress with a black leather cincher around her waist. Aside from being militaristic in style, the dress has a somewhat Avian design, leaving one of her arms bare while the other is draped with a black and gold embroidered robe. Only her arms are still covered by tight black fabric that she wears in long sleeves and all the way up her neck. Her hair falls down her back in a tight braid. Around her neck, she wears a necklace with a pendant of a little dragon holding a ruby teardrop protectively in its tiny claws. She wears long black gloves that go up past her elbows and a thick gold bracelet over her right wrist. This is apparently what she used to block my knife with, as she’s also unarmed to all appearances.

  “Nice room, by the way,” she says with a nod, glancing around.

  “What do you want?” I demand.

  “To the point. I like it.” She adjusts her bracelet with a thoughtful frown. “Zeldek only recently informed me that you have one day left to decide your fate. Is that correct?”

  I nod.

  “Believe it or not, half-breed, I understand what you’re going through. Only a few days ago, you were a nobody barely managing to survive in a world that deemed you unimportant and useless. Now, you are faced with an impossible decision. Whether you accept this offer or not, you will end up a slave to Zeldek. Your refusal will only guarantee you unspeakable pain, but in the end, the result will be the same.”

  Her words only add to my stress.

  “When I first came here,” she continues, “I was never given an ultimatum so tempting as the one you’ve received. I was only a child when he discovered me – or rather, one of his followers did – and took me to him. As a child, I was foolish enough to think that being brave, like you have been, was the right thing to do. I soon realized my mistake.”

  She stares past me at the memory, and her eyes are haunted echoes of the pain she was forced to endure. “Do not think me weak. No one could withstand such torture for very long and remain steadfast.”

  I know she wouldn’t thank me for pitying her; instead, I clutch my free hand to my opposite arm. “Are you here to tell me that I should agree to his proposition?”

  “And give him everything he needs to accomplish his life’s work? I’d kill you with my bare hands before I let that happen.”

  I recoil.

  “I don’t mean I will,” she adds quickly, the fire in her voice dying down a little. “Your coming here is most opportune, actually. I see in you the same longing for freedom that lives in me. Every chance you get, you look for a way to escape. I saw you climb onto the roof of the tower earlier. I admit, you do have pretty decent climbing abilities.”

  I chew the inside of my lip, ignoring the compliment.

  “Zeldek does not own me.” Her words are fierce, a lifeline almost, as if they are the only thing holding her to sanity. “And I certainly hold no allegiance to him. I want to get away from him, to make him pay for every time he mocked me, hurt me, controlled me, made me do his dirty work. But I can’t do it alone. I’ve tried.” She takes a breath, trying again. “What I’m saying is that perhaps it will benefit us mutually if we worked together on this.”

  I watch her distrustfully, not ready to reply.

  Her gaze turns imploring, and she tries her hardest to appear sincere. “Listen, Ealdred, I’m truly thankful for your help all those years ago. Now that I know you’re still alive, I understand that I owe you a debt. Let this be the payment of that debt.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t owe me a thing. I didn’t do it to get anything back.”

  She hesitates. “Consider making a deal with me, then. A bargain that, if you prefer, starts with you owing me something.”

  “Even if I did, I don’t trust you to keep your word.”

  “At least hear me out!”

  I think it over. “Alright. What are you proposing?”

  “Your freedom. I suppose I don’t need to remind you how important that is.”

  I raise a sceptical brow. “You’ll get me out of here?”

  She nods.

  “In return for what?”

  She reaches under the robe that is draped over her shoulder and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “This,” she says, handing it to me.

  I take the paper from her and unfold it, spreading it out on the bed beside me. On the weather-stained, smudged parchment is a faded drawing of an arrow. Above it, The Arrow of Arnon is written in delicate, cursive writing. Below that it reads:

  Deep in vaults of hidden gold

  Caverns steep and halls of old

  Hidden from the fires and coal

  Rests the arrow and my soul

  Three bright stars of purest form

  Do await the coming storm

  Guarding day and night the shrine

  Until it my heir does find

  He of dark and he of light

  For his own soul he shall fight

  And if the curse he can unbind

  Much darker things shall unwind

  “What’s this?” I ask, marvelling at the elegant simplicity of the poetry.

  “What does it look like, idiot?” She snatches back the paper, refolds it, and slips it back underneath her robe.

  “I know it’s an arrow. But what does the rhyme mean?”

  “Ah, but it’s not just any arrow.” She looks at me with a glint of mystery in her eyes. “They say that the Arrow of Arnon is magical, and that it used to belong to Zeldek’s sister, Batuel. When he took the Aemurel, he grew hungry for the power that the arrow possessed, and so murdered her and her entire household, including her children, to get it. But as she was dying, she cast a spell on it designed so that only one of her own descendants would be able to free the arrow. Thus, it would never fall into Zeldek’s hands. In return, Zeldek cursed her spirit to eternal torment until the arrow was his. But because of his curse, the goddess Irla grew angry with him. She took much of his power from him and will keep it until the spell on the arrow is broken and Batuel is freed from Zeldek’s curse.”

  “But,” I point out, “if Zeldek killed all of her children, the spell can’t be broken. He’ll have lost his power forever.”

  “Ah, but he didn’t kill all of them. One survived. Her youngest son was just a baby when his nurse dove with him into the Tireth River, hoping to save his life. She did not survive, but the boy was found by a fisherman in Zandelba, who raised him as his own. Of course, the child was unaware of who he was. He married, had children, and died, and soon the bloodline of Lady Batuel was spread throughout Theara. Zeldek was only able to trace them all quite recently, and slaughtered all but one.” She pauses, looking right at me. “A little boy, who had been abandoned by his father into slavery. You.”

  My breath catches in my throat. Now it all makes sense; this is why Zeldek wants my allegiance! He wants to use my power to break the curse on the arrow so he can claim it for himself.

  I vow to myself that I will never let this happen.

  “But,” I object, the thought occurring to me, “he said that I’m half Vaelhyrean.”

  She shrugs. “There must be Vaelhyrean blood on your father’s side too. It was your mother who had Batuel’s bloodline, after all.”

  I grow suspicious. “How do you know all of this?”

  “Because, Zeldek told me while I still had his confidence. He never suspected I would tell you.” She shakes her head, her voice hissing through her teeth, “He’s too self-absorbed to see how much I hate him!”

  I jump at the change in her tone, making yet another mental note to keep clear of her anger in the future. As it is, I decide it’d be in the best interest of my health to steer our conversation into safer waters.

  “So, what is the plan?” I ask.

&nbs
p; Her scowl lessens only slightly. “I will help you get out of here,” she says, “in exchange for you finding and breaking the spell on the arrow.”

  “Wait!” My voice is louder than I meant it to be, and I quickly lower it. “You want me to break the spell?”

  She nods, as if I should have already known that.

  I blink, not sure whether to feel confused or stupid. I decide on both.

  “But that will give Zeldek his power back.”

  “An astute observation, genius,” she retorts. “Fortunately, you’ll have the arrow, won’t you? It was powerful enough to keep Zeldek at bay for a long time before he was finally able to capture and kill Batuel, and he was only able to do that because Batuel decided to lock the arrow away. With someone of your – er, talents – wielding it, you could be unstoppable.”

  “Sounds to me like you want to take the arrow for yourself.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Think for a moment, will you? If the arrow is powerful enough to fight back Zeldek, what do you think it will do to a poor nobody like me? Besides, if I help you get this arrow, it’ll be like spitting in his face. I’ll get satisfaction enough from simply that.”

  But I notice she doesn’t deny it.

  “So, our deal is what?” I ask. “My freedom in exchange for helping you find and break the spell on this arrow?”

  “Yes, as well as my protection of you afterwards.”

  “Alright, I’m in. But I have one condition,” I say.

  “What is that?”

  “We take Uri and Annalyn with us.”

  Her growing excitement fades into an angry scowl. “No! This quest must be done quickly and with stealth, and that’s something that they – Uriah especially – do not possess!”

  “I never said they needed to be involved in the plan. We can get them out of here, take them to their separate homes, and then leave them to go search for the arrow ourselves.”

  “That will take too long! If Zeldek discovers what we are doing, he’ll try to take the arrow as soon as we break the spell.”

  “Then we’ll take them as far as we can, but we can’t leave them behind.”

  “No!”

  “Then there’s no deal.”

  Pursing her lips, she stares at me, a spark in her eyes. At last, she throws up her hands. “Fine! But if we are caught because of them, I’ll go ahead with killing you.”