As much as Daylen wanted Ahrek to win, it wasn’t hard for him to fight just as fervently for the same goal. He truly hated losing at anything, even when he wanted to. Damn his endless pride.
Thankfully this time, even in spite of his pride, Daylen might still lose. Ahrek was relentless.
But…if he could stack another bond to speed, he would definitely outpace even Ahrek, as it would double his current rate. Daylen had three bonds enhancing his speed but needed his last bond on his reflexes to keep track of all the blades swinging around him, and even with that, Ahrek had still tagged him just before.
Wait a minute—there is a way I can get greater speed!
In one last desperate move, Daylen sucked deeply on the sunstones under his glove for a powerful surge of speed.
Daylen seemed to just appear in front of Ahrek in a blur of movement, where he plunged his blade through the Bringer’s chest.
Ahrek’s face was a picture of incredulity. “No… No!”
Daylen withdrew his sword and Ahrek held a hand over his wound, healing it. Daylen pulled Ahrek up, holding him by the neck and ran him through another four times.
“That should take you a bit longer,” he said, dropping the Bringer to the ground. Turning away, he continued, “I know this isn’t over between the two of us, and by the Light I hope you’ll do better next time, but right now I have to make sure the city is safe.”
“You don’t care about the city,” Ahrek said with a spit of blood, “you care for nothing but yourself. You’re a tyrant! A genocidal mass murderer, pedophile and rapist!”
“I was, but I’ve changed.”
“Then answer for your crimes!”
“I am with every second I live, and while I live I plan to do some good.” And Daylen walked to the edge of the building, ready to jump away, as Ahrek cried with the Night Siren sounding in the background.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me! I’ll find you and make you pay—you hear me, you murderous bastard?” he screamed madly. “I’LL MAKE YOU PAY!”
Chapter Forty-Three
Seeing the open defiance of the knights gave the oppressed people confidence, as many nations had been waiting for this very moment, particularly Frey, and they all rose up in open rebellion, even my own Hamahra.
Even Azbanadar, my most loyal allied nation, withdrew its support, though it didn’t actively fight against me. I would have destroyed its people for that, but I was rather preoccupied.
The rebellion led by Rayaten had been stockpiling weapons and whatever skyships they could get their hands on for years. Suddenly I was faced with an army numbering in the hundreds of thousands made up of the people I thought I was fighting to protect.
* * *
Lyrah landed in the middle of the Hold’s ward, the part of the castle enclosed by the outer wall. The Hold was a massive coal-gray fortress built in the old style that predated the aristocracy. It sat directly under the First City Island. Its castle-styled defenses were mostly useless thanks to skyships, but the Hold did have its own shield net that surrounded the fortress in a dome.
There were some regular citizens making their way across the ward as well as a few knights in the middle of training and several squires—non-Lightbinder members of the Order who maintained the Hold and handled the Order’s administrative duties.
Lyrah startled them with her dramatic arrival. “Archallion Kennet,” she called out with a bonded voice, her words echoing through the Hold. “The city is under threat!”
Cueseg was among the knights in training and ran to her. “Lyrah? How is the city under threat?”
Lyrah waved the rolled papers she was holding that detailed the Dawnists’ plan. “I’ll tell you when Kennet arrives,” she said, watching a man jump from one of the Keep’s windows. He seemed to fly through the sky toward her, though in reality she knew he was falling. Kennet was a powerful Graviten: a Worldbinder that specialized in gravity bonds.
He swooped down and landed in front of them with a level of precision and grace that only came from years of training. “Archonair, what is it?”
Lyrah dumped the rolled papers except one, which she unrolled and held out to show a drawing of a large tunneled island. “The Dawnists, they’ve rigged an entire island to ram the city, and then plan to take control after the destruction of the Senate. The island might already be in flight.”
Kennet took the drawing. “The Dawnists? They’re a bunch of political nuts, not revolutionists.”
“Kennet, they fought me and the kid. The Dawnists are ready to fight and die for their cause.”
“Speaking of the kid, where is he?”
“Gone to get his Bringer friend to help.” She stared at him intently. “This is real, Kennet.”
Kennet looked to the keep’s main entrance, where it appeared that all the other knights in the Hold were emerging in response to Lyrah’s call. He pointed a hand. “Seer Lem!”
Archonair Lem was the seer of the Hold. Lem nodded and Lyrah sensed Kennet channeling light. Lem’s hair, clothes, and sword suddenly fell up as if he were hanging upside down, followed by his body and he fell high into the air in between the darkstone anchors that made up the Hold’s shield.
All the knights near Lem knew to not step where he had been, otherwise they would get caught in the same gravity flow.
The fact that Kennet could manipulate gravity at such a distance, the keep’s entrance being easily twenty meters away, spoke to his great skill.
Kennet eventually leveled Lem out a little before he would have hit the underside of the City Island above.
“Are there any islands out of place in the distance?” Kennet asked with bonded voice.
“Nothing close!” Lem called back. “It’s hard to see a difference with the islands farther away.”
“Are any of them moving?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Look for any of the Dawnists you’ve seen in the past.”
“Yes; just a moment.”
Even from this distance Lyrah could see Lem bow his head, and though she couldn’t see him close his eyes, she knew he was doing just that. A seer like Lem could use their powers to see the location of any person they had seen before, no matter where they were.
“There’s only three that stick in my memory enough to find,” Lem called down. “One is currently working in some factory. The other is with a group hiding in a warehouse. The last must be touching darkstone, for all I can see of him is darkness.”
Kennet turned back to Lyrah, letting Lem fall. He would land easily with his free bond. “Archonair Lyrah, are you sure about this?”
“Yes, the island is supposed to hit within a fall.”
“But we don’t know which island.”
“Correct.”
“It would be one of the Floating Isles,” Cueseg added, “where no one can see the work.”
Kennet shook his head. “We can’t know that for sure. If we set out for the Floating Isles to cut them off and the island we search for happens to be, say, Croprest, Hamenday, or Cityview, we could have put ourselves too far away to stop it. We run the same risk if we try and fly to the closer islands.”
“Then we set a watch at the city border,” Lyrah said, “with a speaker to alert us as soon as Lem spots it. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to send a scout to take a look at some of the closer islands at least.”
“Agreed. We’ll also send a few knights to round up the group of Dawnists hiding in that warehouse. And even though this might just be an inflated dream cooked up by some idiots, a city evacuation order should be issued regardless.” Kennet looked to the Hold’s Head Squire. “Master Daymore, sound the Night Siren.”
As Daylen leapt over the city, he could see countless people running about trying to evacuate. As Night clearly hadn’t fallen, the people in the city knew that the Night Siren in this case meant to get out of the city.
Skyships queued in long lines to get through the city’s shield. That was going to be a problem as the
shield’s exits were already making a bottleneck. The larger majority of people would have to leave the old-fashioned way along the ground, the hardest of all being those who lived on the City Islands.
Daylen could see several skyships ferrying people off the islands, but it wouldn’t be enough. The High Road would also bottleneck people like the shield did with the skyships. Not good.
If all the skyships in the city were put to ferrying people off the islands, it could be done, but that clearly wasn’t happening. There was too much confusion, and most of the larger ships leaving the city were traders more concerned with getting their cargo and goods to safety than random people they didn’t know.
And people dared call him a bastard.
Daylen landed in front of the Hold’s outer gate. Units of the city militia marched in and out, paying him no mind.
Daylen ran into the ward to find Lyrah issuing directions to another unit of the city guard.
“Sweep the tenements in Morninghome District and make sure they are clear,” Lyrah ordered.
“You need more skyships to help ferry people off the City Islands,” Daylen said without announcing himself. “As it is, there’s a huge bottleneck on the High Road and those stuck on the upper islands won’t get off in time.”
Lyrah nodded and looked to a group of squires dressed in the knight’s livery, then pointed to one. “Go to the Com Room and see they track a message to the Harbor. Order as many ships as possible to ferry people off the isles, and if there’s any crew who resist, have the Harbor Guard commandeer their vessel.”
The squire nodded and left as instructed.
“There’s also a long line of ships trying to get through the shield, but there’s too many of them. If we open the shield’s war gate, that can be used to let more ships through.”
“The war gate is already opened, but we have to keep it clear for our battleships. We can’t have the gate blocked when we spot the island.”
“You’re right. I thought you would be off to find this blackened island,” Daylen said.
“It’s not moving yet. Scouts are checking out the closer islands and the rest of us are ready to deploy as soon as it’s spotted.”
“Where’s your lookout?”
“Seer Lem. He’s on the border patrol flagship above the mouth of the city.”
“Only one?”
“Lem’s got the highest sight bond in the city, level six. We’ll just have to hope he spots the island soon after it moves.”
“I’ll help. I can stack to level four, remember?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“How do we alert you once we find the island?”
“There’s a speaker on the ship.”
“Speaker? What, he’ll just shout really loud?”
Lyrah smirked at him. “You still have a lot to learn. Go! And where is the Bringer?”
Daylen frowned. “Ahrek’s not coming. He has some stuff to deal with.” And with that, Daylen power jumped toward the city’s mouth.
He was Dayless the blackened Conqueror! Ahrek thought once more as he struggled to fly across the city.
I had eaten with him, laughed with him, and the whole time he was the man who destroyed my life, the man who murdered nations! Alive!
This was why the Light had sent Ahrek to him: to give Ahrek the revenge that was rightly his, to finally free the world of the greatest tyrant it had ever seen. If only Ahrek had seen it sooner, before they had gotten to know each other. It made him sick that he had actually liked the wretched monster.
Now he would end it, somehow.
Healing himself from the brink of death had exhausted Ahrek greatly, however, and his body’s ability to channel light was at its limit.
Another Lightbringer could heal his channeling fatigue, a type of healing that a Bringer couldn’t do for themselves, and Ahrek knew the best place to find one—the very place that Dayless had been headed.
Dayless said he cared for the city, but Ahrek would never trust anything from that viper’s mouth. Dayless was a lightless coward running from justice, and the only reason he pretended to do good was to fool people that he had changed, another attempt to escape his punishment. It was all to serve himself and prolong his horrible existence. He hadn’t changed. Ahrek had seen enough of Dayless’ true self these past weeks to know this—his arrogance, his rage and violence. And now, as a Lightbinder, he was more dangerous than ever before.
Ahrek reached the Hold, flying through its shield net and the wall to see it alive with activity. City folk, militia, squires and knights raced through the castle’s bailey. There was a good chance that Dayless had passed through here even though Ahrek couldn’t sense his light below. Luckily, there were two other lights that he recognized.
Ahrek landed in front of Lyrah, who stood in the middle of the bailey.
“Bringer,” Lyrah remarked, sounding surprised. She raised a hand to whom she had been talking to and approached Ahrek. “Daylen said you weren’t coming.”
“One more lie among millions.”
“What do you mean, and why are you covered in blood?”
“I’ll tell you, but first I need another Lightbringer. I expect there’s at least one here.”
“There is,” Lyrah said, and turned to one of the knight squires. “Go get Archus Heronta.” Lyrah looked back to Ahrek. “Now, what do you mean when you say that Daylen has been lying?”
“He isn’t who he says he is.”
The knight narrowed her eyes. “Then who is he?”
“Lyrah, Daylen isn’t the son of Dayless the Conqueror—Daylen is Dayless the Conqueror!”
The words struck Lyrah like thunder. “W-what?”
“He is Dayless the Conqueror, the Great Bastard himself. Somehow, he was turned young when he received his powers and has been lying to everyone ever since. Think about it! His skill, his link to Imperious, and the things he knows,” Ahrek explained urgently. “I confronted him and he confessed. He is the Conqueror.”
Lyrah couldn’t breathe; no, she was breathing, panting even. Her hands were shaking. That man—that monster who had stolen her from her family to keep and abuse her again and again. Stripping her down to wear nothing but jeweled ornaments, her body exposed for all to see so she remained ready for his dark pleasure. He was alive, and more. She had been in his presence! He had touched her! The memories of the Conqueror that assailed her every time she looked at that boy weren’t just because he looked similar, but because that’s exactly who he was!
It was too much. He was alive and back in her life, making it seem as though she was there once more, powerless, helpless, the monster having all control.
She screamed, her hands shaking beside her head, her eyes gazing into nothingness.
She screamed again.
She wrapped her hands around herself as she fell to her knees, unable to think, pure terror overcoming her existence.
“Nooo!” she said in a horrified whisper. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”
Ahrek looked down at this poor creature, stunned beyond comprehension at her reaction. He held the woman, trying to calm her down amidst a deranged repetition of, “No, no, no,” with intermediate panic-stricken screams.
Cueseg ran to them. “Lyrah,” he said with great worry, kneeling down beside them. “Oh, Lyrah, no! I am afraid this happens.”
Ahrek was at a loss. “I…just told her…”
“What?” Cueseg demanded in their shared language with a rage so uncommon to Tuerasians that it shocked Ahrek. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“Daylen, my companion… He is really Dayless the Conqueror.”
Cueseg’s eyes nearly popped out. “Alive?”
“Yes,” Ahrek said, nodding grimly, “and when I told her, she broke down.”
Cueseg looked back down to Lyrah, speaking in Hamahran. “I see signs of this, but that is with talk of sex.” Cueseg’s eyes became distant and he began speaking softly to himself. “It is sex that Lyrah is afraid of, and knowin
g the Conqueror is alive does this…” Cueseg’s eyes suddenly focused on the broken woman. “Of course,” he said in sorrow. “The Conqueror makes you afraid of it. This is why. You is one of his women.”
One of his women? And then Ahrek realized, too. Lyrah, this poor creature, was one of the girls that Dayless, the wretched monster, had stolen away and raped. That’s how he had known who she was, and that’s why he had reacted so strangely when finding her at their hotel.
“Oh dear,” Ahrek said.
Cueseg took Lyrah’s face in his hands tenderly. “Oh, Lyrah, I do not know,” he said with tears in his eyes. “I am so sorry.”
There was a crowd of stunned onlookers.
“Go!” Ahrek commanded. “Don’t you all have something important to do?”
They left quickly, looking embarrassed.
Cueseg gently pulled Lyrah’s face in front of his own, but she didn’t see him. Her face was a picture of terror.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” she continued to whisper, her eyes wild.
“Lyrah,” Cueseg said cautiously.
Lyrah fell into another fit of screaming.
“LYRAH!” he called out to her. “You are strong, you hear me! You are knight! I believe in you! Come back, Lyrah, and be strong!”
He was alive.
He had touched her.
He had said she was beautiful.
Once, the mere thought of the monster nearly brought on a panic attack, but now with this horrible knowledge that he was alive and had been so near to her, had touched her—it was too much.
She was that poor frightened girl once more, and there was no escape. He towered over her, abusing her, and she could do nothing to stop him. She cried, and he liked it. She was powerless, helpless, nothing.
And then when it was over, she had to follow him naked so his eyes could rape her all over until he took her to his bed again, where the nightmare repeated itself.
Shadow of the Conqueror Page 46
