Daughter of Dusk

by Blackburne, Livia

  Kyra shielded her eyes and squinted toward the city. The gates still looked to be open. Did the Palace have any idea what was happening?

  No, they likely did not.

  In front of her, the soldiers marched at a quick pace, and people took notice. Those on the road and fields ran, some retreating into their houses and others running for the city gates. One older man shouted defiantly at the troops. Two Edlan soldiers cut him down.

  Finally, the call of bugles drifted from the city, and the gate began to close. Soldiers, just dots from this distance, ran along the parapets. Kyra breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had sounded the alarm.

  But the Edlan troops continued to march.

  Disgraceful. That was how Malikel had described Forge’s response to the attack. Yes, they had been betrayed. Yes, they’d had little warning of Edlan’s approaching troops. But still, the Palace’s forces had been far too slow to react. Messages between wall sentries and the Palace had gone astray. Commands had been dithered over and questioned. Tristam himself had been shocked at how greatly the forces’ discipline had fallen short of what it should have been. Part of it was due to Malikel’s removal from command. Part of it had been the confusion sowed by Willem’s schemes. But whatever the reason, the city was in dire straits.

  The watch had barely managed to close the city gates in time, and archers were still running to their stations. Tristam stood on the parapets next to Malikel, surveying the scene outside the city. The main road led out from the gates. On a normal day, Tristam would have been able to follow it with his eyes as it passed houses, then farmland, until it disappeared into the forest. Today though, the road was blocked by Edlan soldiers. Rows of them, lined up in formation on the road and spilling into the farmland on either side. Scouts had confirmed that Edlan had blocked the roads to the south as well. Groups of people fled their homes with hastily wrapped bundles on their backs, some running for the protection of Forge’s walls, and others for the forest.

  “Edlan could have taken the city,” said Malikel. “If they’d wanted to, they could have marched right in.” There had been some confusion about who would act as Head Councilman after Willem’s defection. The laws indicated Malikel, but none of the laws took into account what to do if the second in line was currently under investigation. In the end, Malikel had been given temporary authority until the Edlanese were defeated.

  “Why do you think they didn’t?” asked Tristam.

  “Willem is a man of Forge at heart. He doesn’t want to see it looted or damaged.”

  “Do you think he made it out of the city?”

  “I think so. I believe you forced his hand, Tristam. He most likely didn’t mean to trigger any attack until after the forest offensive began. He could have picked off or captured our own soldiers in the forest with his own, and we would have blamed the Demon Riders. Once we were sufficiently weakened, he would have sprung his trap. Our position now isn’t good, but at least we have our forces intact within the city.”

  “What do you think Willem wants?” Tristam asked.

  “He’ll tell us himself, soon enough.”

  An hour later, several riders rode toward the city, escorted by a contingent of Edlan soldiers. They came to a halt just outside of arrow range and raised a flag of parley.

  “Come with me, Tristam,” said Malikel.

  Malikel assembled a contingent of ten guards, and Tristam took up ranks with them. The gate was pulled open, and they rode out. Tristam did his best to ride proud. Not the easiest thing to do when an entire army was spread out in front of him, but he had to trust his comrades on the wall behind him to watch for signs of betrayal. At least the skies were clear today, and they had an unimpeded view.

  As they came closer to the other party, Tristam finally made out their faces. Lord Alvred, the Defense Minister of Edlan, led the party on a giant black war stallion. And next to him was Willem.

  Traitor. Tristam looked over at Malikel, trying to see his commander’s reaction, but the fur lining of Malikel’s cloak blocked his view.

  “Alvred,” Malikel said pleasantly. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Was our hospitality not up to your standards?”

  Alvred’s mustache twitched humorlessly. “We both serve our cities, Malikel. You know that as well as I.”

  “If we’re dispensing with pleasantries, I’ll address my former Head Councilman directly,” said Malikel. “What do you want, Willem?” Malikel spoke loud enough to be heard by all nearby, and Tristam wondered whether it hurt his wounded ribs.

  Willem, to his credit, didn’t look as smug as Tristam had expected him to, though he regarded Malikel with the confidence that came with knowing he had the upper hand. “You know you can’t win this, Malikel. We have more troops, and we have the strategic advantage now that we’re in position. You have no allies who will come to your help. We can either drag this out and let the people suffer, or we can solve things quickly.”

  “What are your terms?” asked Malikel.

  “You and the rest of the Council will sign a measure ceding power to me as Duke of Forge. I have no wish to harm any of you, though you will be required to live out your lives outside of the three cities.”

  “Head Councilman wasn’t enough, Willem?” An edge finally found its way into Malikel’s voice. “You want to wield absolute power?”

  “Our Council is fundamentally flawed. We spend most of our time in deadlock or undoing one another’s efforts. That’s no way to rule a city.”

  “And, of course, you’ll be the one to lead Forge to a glorious future.” Malikel looked to Alvred and the Edlan officials behind him. “What are you giving Edlan for their help? Better trade?”

  “Among other things.”

  “And you’re confident they won’t stab you in the back once their soldiers have breached our walls?”

  Willem drew himself to his full height atop his horse. “Do you think me so incompetent? I have safeguards in place.”

  Tristam wondered what those safeguards might be. Willem must have cultivated favor with Edlan houses as well, enough so that they would support him against any possible double cross from Symon.

  “Let’s not drag this conversation on,” said Willem. “Will you take my terms or not?”

  “Of course not,” said Malikel.

  “Perhaps, then, you will change your mind in a few weeks.”

  There was an emergency Council meeting that evening. As Red Shields carted off bodies from the battle within the Palace walls, and others scoured the ranks for any remaining Edlan imposters, the nineteen remaining Council members faced off and yelled at each other. Councilman Caldre argued vociferously for a head-on charge against the Edlanese army, while Malikel dismissed this as suicidal. Another Councilman suggested sending for help from Parna, but even Tristam knew that Parna would happily remain neutral while Edlan and Forge weakened themselves. And they’d make plenty of money selling supplies to both parties.

  The problem was, there were no good solutions. The Council knew this, but as men used to power, they couldn’t come to terms with that fact. So they continued on with their posturing. They wouldn’t come to an agreement tonight, and by now, Tristam wished they would simply agree to go to sleep. He supposed he could ask to be excused. He’d given his testimony to the Council hours ago, and they hadn’t asked for him since. But tired and disheartened as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

  The first time he heard someone knock on the window next to him, he thought he’d just imagined it. But he heard it again, in the silence between Councilman Caldre bringing up another impossible strategy and Councilman Perce ruling it out. A definite tapping—he wasn’t deluding himself. He casually stood and made his way over to the window.

  “Kyra?” he whispered, still not quite believing it.

  There was a soft tap on the shutters in reply.

  Tristam’s rush of elation was quickly tempered by incredulity over what Kyra had done. She’d been in the forest, hadn’t she
? Had she snuck past enemy lines and somehow into the city itself? True, she did have the cover of night, and Palace forces had better things to do now than look for her, but it was still reckless. And what was she doing here, anyway?

  “Back corridor,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  He slipped out of the room and circled around to the servants’ corridor. As he’d hoped, it was empty at this hour. There was a small window, and he pushed the shutters open. After a moment, he saw a familiar outline in the darkness and stepped back to let her in.

  Kyra jumped in silently, her body taut and her eyes actively searching the corridor for threats. Her hands, when he took them, were ice-cold, and he wrapped them in his own. “I can’t believe you snuck in like this.”

  “I’m just glad you’re safe. What happened?”

  Tristam recounted the Council meeting and Willem’s betrayal. Had it all occurred in one day? Anger built in Kyra’s eyes as he spoke. She pulled away from him and started pacing the corridor.

  “I didn’t think Willem would go this far,” said Kyra. “I thought he at least cared for the city.”

  “Well, the army hasn’t attacked yet.”

  She turned to him, her gaze fierce. “I watched Edlan soldiers kill an old man today. His blood is on Willem’s hands, as is the blood of the soldiers who died in the Palace today. Is there any way for us to break the siege?”

  “There’s posturing and debate in the Council, but no,” said Tristam. “We have nothing except for the prospect of a long and drawn-out engagement.”

  Kyra seemed to waver over some decision before her eyes regained their focus. “I need to talk to Malikel, if he’ll speak with me.”

  “You have news?”

  “A proposal. A far-fetched one,” she admitted, with an apologetic shrug. “But at this point, I don’t see how it could hurt.”

  When Tristam returned to the Council Room, he found Malikel listening intently to the debate, leaning over his table and looking from speaker to speaker with a gaze that could have bored holes in the wall. It was easy to forget that the man had been stabbed that morning. Malikel shook out of his focus as Tristam came to his side.

  “Are you able to leave the Council meeting?” Tristam asked softly. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  “Is it important?” said Malikel.

  “It’s Kyra.”

  The briefest flicker of surprise crossed Malikel’s face, and then he nodded and followed Tristam out of the room. The Council debate continued without a pause.

  Kyra was visibly nervous when Tristam and Malikel came back. She stood close to the window, and her posture was such that she looked ready to spring back out at the slightest provocation. Malikel seemed to sense this and stopped a good distance away.

  “Kyra,” he said simply.

  “I’m sorry I hid what I was,” said Kyra. “I didn’t mean for you to pay the price for my secret.”

  “There’s no use dwelling on what has happened already,” said Malikel. “Best we can do is move forward.”

  Malikel’s response was so mild that Tristam couldn’t help but interrupt. “You knew what Kyra was, didn’t you? Why didn’t you confront us outright?”

  “I took a gamble. True service can’t be forced.” He fixed his eyes on Kyra. “Tell me if my gamble paid off.”

  Relief washed over Kyra’s countenance, followed by resolve. “I’ve an idea for breaking the siege. It’s a last-ditch effort, but if what Tristam tells me is right, you don’t have many choices. I’m now in contact with the Demon Riders. I can carry a petition to them if you’d like.”

  “Why do you think an appeal to the Demon Riders would work when they wouldn’t even talk to us before?” said Malikel.

  “Because they’ve been taking losses. I think they’re starting to see that they can’t carry on a war against the humans here, even with their increased numbers.” Kyra looked in the direction of the Council Room as muted shouts echoed down the corridor. “I also…have reason to believe that Leyus may be more kindly disposed toward humans than I first thought.”

  “How do you know this?” asked Malikel.

  Something flickered in Kyra’s eyes. “I know you don’t like secrets, and I’ll do my best to be honest with you. But let me keep this one.”

  Malikel leveled a long gaze at Kyra. “Say we attempt this—what’s your plan? The Demon Riders will want something in return,” said Malikel.

  “Peace might appeal to them, now that some of their number have been injured. They want adequate hunting and a place to live.” Kyra looked to Tristam as she said this, obviously bracing for an objection from him. When he said nothing, her surprise was more damning than anything Flick or Pashla could have said.

  Malikel’s brow furrowed in concentration. “We could offer the Demon Riders protected hunting in a portion of our forest, and terms of trade for what they cannot get.”

  “Can I get the Council’s word on this?” asked Kyra. “Will you pass a resolution to negotiate peace with the Demon Riders if they help defeat Edlan?”

  “I will need to bring it before them,” said Malikel. “This is a decision that must be made by all of us.”

  T W E N T Y - N I N E

  Edlan didn’t have enough forces to completely surround Forge. They’d set up their encampment across the main road, and intermittent patrols formed a porous perimeter around the rest of the city. Kyra could have avoided the camp entirely and dealt simply with the patrols, but she wanted to get a better look at what Forge was up against.

  She skirted the outer edge of the Edlan camp as she left the city. The soldiers had dug trenches at the borders of their camp and were in the process of fortifying them with sharpened stakes. Kyra saw a few catapults, but not enough to suggest an imminent attack on the walls. Talk and laughter filtered out to Kyra as she passed. There were many soldiers and many campfires, but even from her limited vantage point in the darkness, she could see that activity centered on one central campfire and a large tent set up next to it. Kyra recognized Alvred, the Defense Minister, and Willem holding court there. Pages and squires attended them, and messengers came back and forth from other parts of the camp. She watched for a while and then headed for the safety of the trees.

  Kyra ran deeper into the woods until she was absolutely sure that the soldiers were behind her. Then she stopped and cast about in the darkness. What was her plan? She had to find Leyus, somehow persuade him to help, and then lead an attack on the Edlan forces. It had seemed less ludicrous when she’d proposed it to Malikel.

  She wandered awhile, calling out a few times, but there was no response. If any Demon Riders watched her, they weren’t interested in helping her. Well, there was one other way to find the clan.

  Kyra looked around one last time, peeled off her clothes, and tied them as best she could into a bundle. Her fur came easily, but she shuffled from foot to foot after her shape settled, unsure of what exactly to do. She’d made plenty of sounds in her fur before, but never on purpose. She experimented with something that sounded like a mix between a growl and a bark, and then threw her head back.

  The roar reverberated through the forest, and Kyra couldn’t quite believe that such a sound had come from her throat. She waited, and for a long time there was nothing. But then, in the distance, there came a faint response. It was far away, but Kyra knew immediately which way to go. She carefully picked up her clothes in her teeth and loped off.

  Her sense of direction never wavered. Soon enough, she smelled other demon cats nearby and saw movement in the trees ahead of her. Kyra stopped and changed back into her somewhat slobbery clothes. She had just fastened her cloak when she noticed two Demon Riders watching her.

  “Is Leyus here?” she asked.

  One of the two, a man around Leyus’s age, gestured toward the trees to Kyra’s left, though his expression conveyed that he was simply answering her question and not extending an invitation. Kyra heard him fall in step behind her.

&nb
sp; There was a surprising number of Demon Riders milling about. Kyra counted about twenty-two in their skin and about half that number in their fur. Kyra thought she spotted Adele at the edge of the group, and near the middle of the pack, a tawny-yellow cat looked up sharply at Kyra’s arrival. Pashla.

  Leyus—her father—sat beneath a tree, one arm propped up on his knee. Next to him sat Havel and Zora. There was something about the body language among the three of them as they talked. Kyra could tell that these were old friends, and she found their easy familiarity with one another almost as intimidating as the power they wielded.

  Leyus’s expression as he watched her come closer was one of controlled impatience. To Kyra’s surprise, it wasn’t Leyus who spoke first, but Havel, and he spoke the language of the three cities.

  “She cannot stay away,” he said, his eyes bright with interest. “Blood calls to blood.”

  “It is of no consequence,” said Leyus. “The girl has chosen her loyalties.”

  Loyalties. Of course. Kyra had a task to do. “I’m here on behalf of the Palace,” she said. “They want to offer an alliance.”

  Leyus exchanged a glance with Havel, as if Kyra had confirmed his words. Kyra looked at Leyus, then Havel and Zora. “I was born of two different groups, raised by a third, and recruited by a fourth. I belong to no one, but I serve those whom I see fit. Right now, I serve the Council. I know you don’t think highly of the humans, but you must hear this message if you want your clans to survive.”

  Zora turned a languid gaze to Leyus. “Are you in the habit of negotiating with humans?”

  “Only those who prove useful,” said Leyus.

  “They are untrustworthy. Remember what happened with Maikana,” said Zora.

  Kyra momentarily forgot about her mission. “You knew my mother?” she asked, fully aware that her voice came out a breathless whisper.

  The three Makvani exchanged looks, and their silence was more telling than anything they could have said.