A New Light (The Age of Dawn Book 5)

by Everet Martins

  Joy’s fireball zoomed towards the dummy, went wide and struck the earth built up behind it with a boom. A clod of earth bound by weeds shot into the air, spinning.

  “Yes!” Nyset cheered.

  “I did it!”

  “I knew you had it in you.” Nyset laughed.

  Joy crashed into Nyset and wrapped her arms around her. “Thank you so much!” she squealed into Nyset’s shirt.

  “You’re welcome, dear.” Nyset patted the back of her head. “Keep practicing until the hour is up.”

  Joy pushed away from her with crimson cheeks. She cleared her throat, looking up at her with wide eyes.

  “What is it?” Nyset asked.

  “Sorry, Mistress. I’m not sure what just came over me.”

  “But what are you sorry for, silly?” Nyset planted her hands on her hips.

  “Oh — for hugging you like that. It’s a bad habit, mother never liked it. Said I shouldn’t get into people’s space so much.”

  Nyset snickered and grinned. “Well, I’m not your mother and you may hug me whenever you like.”

  Joy beamed up at her and tucked a red lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Mistress. I’ll go practice now.” She hopped back to face the dummy. The roaring of Dragon apprentice’s fireballs struck targets all around. There were about forty practice dummies set up, one for each student. Some dummies were brandishing Death Spawn weapons and others wearing their armor.

  Claw stood on the outskirts of the Phoenix practice yard, still as a statue. His lean arms were crossed over a leather jerkin. He had his curved blade Ghostwalker sitting on his hip, his long gray hair swaying in the breeze. He looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open, but Nyset knew he was always scanning for potential threats and watching his students. He was a strange man. She had tried to crack his cryptic shell more than a few times, but he gave her very little besides his unwavering loyalty.

  He had proven his loyalty by saving her life and throwing himself into the enemy’s spears at her command. His life was hers, he had told her. She had decided that was enough for her. Some men preferred to keep their wounds hidden, she supposed. Maybe it was better for some people to keep their pain bottled up, but no one could stay that way forever without it creeping out in some way. It was only a matter of time.

  Nyset started to walk down the line, watching as the apprentice women worked to lay waste to their targets. Fireballs burned towards the immovable warriors, some exploding and others fizzling out before making it to a dummy. Occasionally the armor the dummies wore would fail to stop the penetrating flames and they would have to be replaced with fresh wood.

  Nyset and her assistant Vesla had spent months recruiting apprentices from Helm’s Reach. An inordinate amount of people born in the city were blessed with the touch of the gods. The city was well known for its strange abundance. Some feared Helm’s Reach, a minority hated it, and some loved it. Nyset was starting to enjoy it, despite its schizophrenic weather. The evenings were icy and the days scorching. Nyset had always wanted more variety in her life when she lived in Breden. That all changed after the Cerumal raided Breden during the Festival of Flames. She longed for the simpler days but felt the path she walked now was the right one for her. She tilted her chin up, nodded at an apprentice whose fire struck true.

  Those they recruited, who were touched by the god’s powers, had been gifted in the traditional manner. Women were gifted with the Dragon’s ability to destroy, and men the ability to heal and protect. There weren’t any dual-wielders in Helm’s Reach, not to her knowledge, at least. Walter’s gift was incredibly rare. She had read in the histories that typically only one dual-wielder is born per generation. There were two in her generation. She learned in the Tower that Asebor had killed the other, a girl.

  Walter had to live, for only he had the strength to challenge Asebor. The more she thought about it, the more she thought Walter should be locked in a prison, only to be unleashed to face Asebor, but that wouldn’t do. People weren’t weapons, right?

  The corner of her lip twitched up in the beginnings of a self-amused smile. Her new station as the Arch Wizard was inflating her head with hubris. She knew it and was aware of it most times. She found it difficult to inoculate herself to that swelling pride. The way the apprentices and people of the city looked to her for the right thing to do forced her to be this way. Men wouldn’t follow someone whose commands wavered, even if she was a quivering mess on the inside. If they knew the truth, would they still obey her?

  Something flapped under her boot. She peered down at the paper pinned below it and snatched a corner before lifting her foot so it wouldn’t blow away. The paper had an image of a Phoenix in flight with an X crossed through it. It read in large print: Phoenix worshipers are heretics. Do not trust. Their weakness is our weapon. Nyset softly growled. It seemed someone or some group was stirring up the hive in the city. She didn’t need this right now. She rolled it up and placed it in her pocket.

  An older apprentice, maybe even her age, struck a target square in the chest with a fireball. She wore blood-red robes, the traditional color of all female apprentices.

  “Nice work.” Nyset smiled at her. She felt herself flush at forgetting her name.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” she replied. “Is there anything I can do better?”

  Nyset stopped to think. Her aim was true, fireball swift. “Try two.” She grinned.

  “Two? You mean at the same time?” The apprentice’s mouth twisted with distaste.

  “I do.” She pursed her lips. “Remember, if you can conjure two at once, you can join the veterans and learn more advanced spells.”

  The apprentice blew out her lips. “I’ll try.”

  Nyset drew up close beside the apprentice and remembered her name. She spoke softly. “Trust yourself, Bria. Trust the Dragon. Let all your anger, your rage, all the broken dreams and false hopes fill you up.” Nyset felt her guts squirm and suppressed the tears that wanted to break free from her eyes. “Feel them in your gut, heart, in your bones. Suck in the sadness. Let them out. Let the fury of the Dragon take you and then you’ll find its infinite wells clear and open for you.” She inhaled sharply. “But you must be careful. Remember, if you take more of the power than you can control, it can burn you to embers, turn your mind into a ruined shell.”

  Bria turned to face her and blinked her narrow-set eyes. She slowly nodded with understanding, her hazel eyes gleaming with the light of the Dragon.

  Nyset took her hand in hers and squeezed it. She met her eyes and time seemed to stretch out, though only a few seconds passed. Within those seconds, she felt thousands of words were spoken through their gazes. Nyset released Bria’s hand.

  “Good luck.” Nyset bobbed her eyebrows and turned down the line of Dragon apprentices. She deeply inhaled, letting the arid air burrow deep within her lungs. They were doing well on the whole. It had been two weeks since Walter had marched west with Scab’s men. They should be arriving at The Great Retreat soon, maybe today, certainly tomorrow. She bit down and pain spread through her fingertip.

  “Ow!” She withdrew her hand from her mouth and stared at her cracked nail, unsure of when it had found its way into her mouth. A few girls looked at her with concern. She smiled wanly. She had to get control. He’ll be back. Her parents were fine. Everything was fine, she told herself. They had survived what she guessed was a probing attack from the Death Spawn. Could they survive another? Would Helm’s Reach be ready?

  She got her feet, moving farther down the dividing path between either side of the practice yard. The men were huddled around Claw now, hanging on his every lecturing word.

  “…feel the Phoenix, revel in its magnificence!” Claw wildly gestured with his hands. Nyset snickered at the worried looks on the newly recruited faces. Those that had been here since the beginning were used to his enthused speeches and rolled their eyes, likely waiting for him to get to the point.

  A pair of figures crested the horizon on horseback. It
was Senka and Isa. She knew their forms, even at this great distance. She felt a thrill of excitement course through her.

  “Ah! The Arch Wizard is here now. Come on over and meet the new recruits, would you?” Claw roared and beckoned toward her. The men, some boys, turned to look at her. Some met her eyes for an instant before turning down, a few felt as if they were stripping her bare, probably imagining how she looked without her clothing.

  She crossed her arms. A man with a round face licked his lips at her and she narrowed her eyes at him. Claw’s hand drew back and slapped the back of his head with a thump. “Have some respect, would you?” Claw growled at him. Claw had hit him a little too hard for her tastes, but it did send a clear message.

  “Sorry,” the round-faced apprentice muttered, staring into his hands.

  Nyset walked up to Claw and eyed the downcast group, sufficiently cowed from his show of discipline. “Would you please watch my girls? I’m going to go meet them.” She nodded to the distant plumes of sand and dirt drifting into the air from Senka and Isa’s horses.

  “Of course, Mistress. I’ll keep my good eye on them.” Claw winked and nodded with far too much enthusiasm.

  “Thank you, Claw.” Nyset started for the end of the practice yard.

  Claw’s voice trailed off. “When you’re weaving Phoenix shields, remember that they can’t block everything. Some people, like the Arch Wizard, can pull enough Dragon fire to cut through it…”

  At the end of the practice yard, her gray mare pawed at the ground and snorted when she approached. She removed her lead rope from a fence post and deftly hopped on the saddle. She lightly heeled her into a gallop and air coursed down her shirt, working to peel off some of the day’s sweat.

  She grinned as Senka and Isa grew larger, finally coming into clear view. “Hey!” she waved at them.

  Isa slowed his horse then dismounted and dropped into a low bow. “Mistress,” he came up with a wince. Senka followed after him, giving a curt bow.

  “Are you alright, Isa?” She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m well. We encountered some Death Spawn resistance. A Black Wynch got lucky…” Isa glanced to Senka and back to her. “Senka patched me up.”

  Senka beamed. “My pleasure. I am still surprised to see that a Silver Tower assassin can bleed.”

  Isa raised an eyebrow at her with the beginnings of a smile. “We do, on rare occasions.”

  Nyset sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve sent you with a wizard or two, to heal you if something like this were to happen.” The lack of planning could’ve left them both dead. How could she be so stupid? “Well, tell me. What did you find? Was your mission a success?” Nyset clasped her hands together over her chest.

  Isa looked to Senka, who nodded at him. “Yes, Mistress. We found a cave defended by Death Spawn. We both arrived at the same conclusion… it appears they use the cavern as a means for travel. We didn’t explore the cave, however judging by the number of prints and disturbed land trailing away from it, it is very likely used to move a great number of Death Spawn troops.” Isa’s face grew harsh. “We don’t know where it leads.”

  Senka rested her hands on the pair of daggers on either hip. “It looks as though your suspicions were correct. We had almost given up the search, Mistress. It was well hidden.”

  “Please Senka, call me Nyset.”

  “Yes, Mis-Nyset. The informality… is not what I am accustomed to.”

  Nyset brushed her lips with her index finger. “So they’re not traveling by portals but by tunnels underground. It’s logical but risky. Less risky than Phoenix portals, I suppose.”

  “We thought to close it up, but did not have the proper means.” Isa worked his shoulder in circles as if working out a pain.

  “That’s alright. You two did well, thank you. Get yourselves some food, rest, bathe. Whatever you need, take it. I’ll send Claw for healing. He’ll make you good as new. When you’re rested, please remember to go to the map in the war room and make note of the cave’s location.”

  What other tricks did Asebor have? What other false assumptions had they made? She needed time to think.

  Chapter 8

  Office Hours

  “An opened door can be an invitation to the unwanted.” -The Diaries of Nyset Camfield

  Nyset leaned over a map that swallowed most of her heavy oaken desk. It was a beautiful map with ornamental scrollwork at the edges and sweeping charcoal illustrations, designed by Claw, who she learned also happened to be an artist.

  Her office door was closed and latched, deadening some of the world outside. The roaring thunder of a fireball striking a target bellowed through the wall, likely from an apprentice putting in extra practice time. After the first attack on Helm’s Reach, everyone finally saw the Death Spawn with sober eyes, not that it did anything to stop the denizens from their regular manic imbibing. The sun was an orb of pink fire outside her window, splashing the scrubland with blood.

  The room was small and rectangular. Her office was in a back corner of the new Silver Tower, a house she and her friends had built. Across the main hall was a similarly sized room used for meetings and storing mainly rice, flour, wine, and elixir beans.

  In her office was a bookshelf covering one wall from floor to vaulted ceiling. One shelf had been filled with tomes purchased in the city, the rest lying pathetically empty and coated in a thin layer of sand. There was something about an empty bookshelf that irked her. Bookshelves were meant to be filled. She would have to remedy that soon.

  A few candles clustered together burned on her desk, casting their fluttering glow over her map. They were infused with the sweet aroma of cinnamon. On the opposite side of her desk were a few pouches partially filled with herbs, her sheathed sword, and sword belt. The anti-Phoenix pamphlet she’d found earlier in the practice yard was pinned under her pouches. She tugged on the bottom of her shirt and pulled it out from the confines of her pants.

  She felt like she could breathe again with some time alone. She exhaled and her head sagged with the weight of exhaustion. She’d been teaching apprentice’s classes every day this week and each day was more draining than the last. The classes were long and grueling, spanning ten hours per day. She had to prepare the city for the Death Spawn. They could strike again at any time. She frowned down at the finger in her mouth, about to bite through a nail. Nyset wiped the saliva from her finger on the front of her shirt.

  She traced her finger on the map from Helm’s Reach to the spot Isa had marked for the hidden cavern. It was west of the old Silver Tower, close enough to it to deploy troops by foot, but not so far they’d be easily detected. They were using the hidden cavern to travel, she knew it in her gut.

  Her finger hissed across the map from the hidden cavern to Snowden’s Cavern before Midgaard. “Too close to the capital, they wouldn’t use that,” she murmured. Her finger darted from Snowden’s Cavern to the Yellow Caverns west of Lich’s River. “This was how they made their way to Breden.” She nodded and pressed her finger to her lips, smearing them with charcoal. “Dragons, it had to be.” She would have to send Nyset and Isa back with a veteran or two to close up the entrance. It might be a formidable risk now that it’s been discovered.

  She turned away from the map and eyed the sun, now a sliver of gold on the horizon. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. A minute later, she opened them to see the chest adjacent to the bookshelf staring at her, taunting her. It was big enough for her to climb into, heavy and iron bound. It would take more than few men to move it, assuming they could disarm the ward without being burned to death. It wasn’t the chest being stolen that worried her most, but its lack of being filled by marks.

  She had foolishly agreed. Actually, Walter had forced her to agree to come up with the funds to pay Scab and his vile mercenaries. She had conceded to herself that after Walter left, it was a necessary decision, even if she didn’t agree with it. They needed men who could fight. She had started collecting
donations from apprentices who felt they could afford it after Grimbald’s suggestion, but it wasn’t enough. She wondered where Walter was now, how he was faring. Had he met her parents? Would they be proud of her? Why hadn’t he sent word of Breden yet? She let a long exhale slide through her nose, her heart slowing a few beats.

  She strode over to the trunk, looked over her shoulders and out her window for curious eyes, but she was alone. One could never be too cautious, Baylan had once told her. She tugged the necklace holding the silvery key out from between her breasts. The metal was warm, almost comforting in her hand. She squatted down, inserted the key, and twisted, causing a clicking and releasing of the heavy lock. The lock was a formality. A heavy war hammer or tongue of Dragon fire could easily melt it. The real defense was unseen, even to her eyes. Juzo could see wards; she’d have to ask him what the trick was. That was, of course, as long as it had nothing to do with becoming a Blood Eater.

  She uttered, “Zal dah iztus.” The circular ward symbol glowed with fire then faded away from its lid, the trap now disarmed. The wood creaked as she pushed the lid open. The bottom third of the trunk was filled with glittering jeweled marks of all denominations, casting her face in a warm glow.

  There was more money than she’d ever laid eyes upon. Maybe she could load up her saddlebags with as many as the seams could handle and ride off to Eagle’s Edge now to get an early start on the life she’d always wanted with Walter. It would be enough to pay for a modest house on the coast, a few horses, and livestock. It was more than she’d ever needed or wanted. She bit her lip and rested her hand upon the lid. Her fingers pressed into the wood, hard and polished smooth. She closed it with a thud. A girl could fantasize about being a scoundrel, couldn’t she? Thinking about a thing and doing it were two entirely different worlds. She uttered the words to re-arm the Dragon ward trap and locked it.