Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “Da!”

  Koal let out a sharp grunt and teetered to the ground, clutching his hands around the shaft that now lay embedded in his shoulder.

  Gut-wrenching terror pierced Joel’s heart. Oh gods. He’s been shot. Oh gods!

  The seneschal’s crumbled form lay motionless on the granite step. White panic blinded Joel. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was stare at the horrible scene playing out right before his eyes.

  “Focus, Joel! I can’t hold the shield without you!”

  Hasain’s command was a fuzzy murmur at the back of Joel’s mind. He couldn’t hear anything above the devastating pounding in his ears. With a shaking hand, he reached for his father. Please don’t let him be dead. I promised I would keep him safe. I promised I’d see him home to Mother. Koal’s arm twitched. The movement was slight, but Joel saw it. Oh, Daya, is he—? Yes! Yes, he’s alive!

  Koal staggered to his feet. The ugly arrow still protruded from a gash in his blood-stained armor, but in the moment, all that mattered was that he lived.

  “Joel!” Hasain’s voice was on the edge of hysteria this time.

  He’d lost all control. The shield bowed dangerously, threatening to dissipate. Joel refocused his dwindling energy, doing all he could to stabilize the barrier, but it wasn’t enough. An entire section of the shield came tumbling down.

  Gasping, Joel attempted to back away, but his body was so wrecked he couldn’t even crawl. Hasain had slammed his eyes closed. Joel could feel Hasain trying to salvage the shield even then.

  “Bring them down! Kill them!” Adrian screeched in triumph.

  Joel looked through the broken section of the shield, watching helplessly as a pack of enemy soldiers stared at him down the length of their loaded crossbows. They aimed the weapons at his prone form, and Joel’s blood ran cold. He knew the polished, onyx arrowheads would be the last thing he ever saw. All he could do was lie there petrified, waiting for death to take him.

  I’m sorry, Gib. Please forgive me. I love you.

  A shadow crossed his field of vision. He barely had a chance to register Cenric’s dark form dash in front of him before the snap of half a dozen crossbow strings reached his ears. A moment later, Cenric slumped to his knees.

  “No!” Joel cried in shock. Oh gods. No. No. It can’t be—no!

  Tears poured down his face as he took Cenric into his arms. The chaos surrounding them faded into nothingness. Cenric and Joel could have been alone in the world for all he knew.

  Cenric choked, a horrible, wet sound. “I’m getting—too old for this.”

  “Why?” Joel could barely see through his tears. His anguish was second only to Cenric’s. “Why did you jump in front of me? You have a family waiting for you—and now—” He broke down into incoherent sobs as his trembling hands brushed past each coarse arrow fletching protruding from the ambassador’s back.

  Cenric managed a weak smile, but the agony in his eyes was enough to completely undo Joel. “The world—will weep much less for the loss of one old envoy. You—must live.”

  Bile rose in Joel’s throat as he watched blood saturate Cenric’s tunic, bathing the azure fabric crimson. Somewhere in the back of Joel’s consciousness, he was aware of the portal flaring to life and Hasain screaming that the shield was about to collapse.

  “You can make it,” Joel gasped, cradling his mentor’s broken body. “We’re almost home. Just hang on. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Cenric shook his head. “No. It’s my—my time.”

  “Joel! Help me!” Koal’s desperate voice drew his attention. The seneschal clutched his wounded shoulder with one hand. His sword lay discarded on the stone steps as he struggled to hoist Liro up. “Help me with your brother! Now!”

  A pallid fog rolled over Cenric’s eyes, snuffing out the enduring shine Joel had grown so fond of. “My family—tell them—tell them I love them. Go now.”

  Joel gripped the ambassador’s tunic, cold blood rushing over his fingertips. “No. You can’t die. I won’t leave you.”

  Again, Koal yelled for assistance. “Joel! I can’t do this alone!”

  “Go,” Cenric rasped, a spurt of blood resting on the corner of his mouth. “Go help—your father.” Somehow, the ambassador managed to get his arm between the two of them and shoved Joel back a step. “Leave me.”

  Joel clambered to his feet, taking a blind step toward Koal. The portal raged in Joel’s ears, blasting him with bitter air and shards of ice. The wave almost sent him spiraling to the ground, but somehow he managed to stumble up the granite step to join his father.

  “Get his other arm,” Koal shouted above the torrent. “We have to carry him through the portal.”

  Joel numbly took hold of Liro’s arm, slinging the limp appendage over one shoulder. Taking a lumbering step, he did his best to hold his brother steady. Koal grunted as Liro’s weight pressed on the arrow, still embedded in the seneschal’s shoulder. Three steps farther and they were standing in front of the crackling portal.

  “Go!” Hasain hissed. “I’ll hold them off!”

  “On three,” Koal said.

  Joel met his father’s terrible gaze and somehow managed to nod.

  “One. Two. Three!”

  Together, father and son jumped.

  Joel’s strength failed him as he tumbled through the portal. He was at the mercy of the Void, weightless and falling. His mouth was open, screaming, but he couldn’t hear his own voice above the crackle of lightning. And then it was over.

  He collapsed in a pile of snow, the cold seeping through clothing and cutting at his exposed skin. Liro and Koal hit the ground beside him an instant later. Cenric. He might still be alive.

  Letting out a wail, Joel attempted to crawl back toward the portal. “I have to go back for Cenric!”

  Koal grabbed hold of his son’s arm. “He’s already gone.”

  “No!” Even as he moaned the word, he knew his father was right. A crushing despair pressed down on Joel’s lungs, and he gasped, unable to breathe. I can’t—can’t leave him there! Somehow, Joel managed to roll onto his back, leaving a crimson imprint behind that painted the snow an ugly red. He retched at the sight of Cenric’s blood.

  Kirk and Kenisha crashed through the portal, their cloaks billowing around them. Kenisha clutched her brother’s arm, and her eyes were wide with terror.

  “Hasain? NezReth?” Koal demanded, wincing as he stumbled to his feet. “Where are they?”

  Even as the question was fired, Joel could see the Blessed Mage standing on the far side of the portal. NezReth’s eyes remained cloudy, still bound in trance by the spell. Hasain trailed him, keeping a hand on the mage’s back, guiding him forward. Behind them, the shield shattered, crumbling into a million fragments of shimmering light. Hasain must have known. Without waiting another instant, he pushed NezReth forward and together they dove through the portal. A hail of arrows followed in their wake, slicing paths through the snow and coming to rest by their boots. Joel’s heart thudded to a stop when he saw the Imperial soldiers rush the archway.

  “Bring it down!” Hasain screeched. “They’re coming through!”

  NezReth swung around to face the portal, horrible anger contorting his features. His eyes burned with fury as he raised both hands above his head. Energy crackled down the lengths of his arms like rods of lightning. Joel could feel the Blessed Mage release the magic. He watched as it was hurled back toward the portal—

  In a flash of blinding light, the stone arch burst in an explosion of rubble and roaring flame. The force of the impact sent every person sprawling to their knees. When the destruction passed, a mound of scorched rock was all that remained of the portal.

  Grave, devastating silence fell across the courtyard. No one spoke. No one moved. Joel lay in the blood-stained snow, body trembling and mind numb. All he could do was bury his battered face against one arm and sob for the loss of his mentor.

  Chapter Eleven

  The cand
les burned low in the sitting room of the royal suite. Gib rubbed his eyes and tried to focus while the King, Aodan, and Marc discussed their options. They kept their voices stifled while the rest of the world slept.

  King Rishi set the letter from Koal on his Senet board and paced by the open window. His face was drawn into a tight frown. “Why such a sudden return? The message is so vague that you know there must be something he’s not telling us.”

  “Might not have been able ta say everythin’ he wanted.” Aodan shifted in his seat. “The Empire probably read it before it was sent out.”

  The King nodded. “No doubt. He must have felt it important to warn us though.”

  Marc sighed, his eyelids heavy. “I don’t know what you expect us to do tonight. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone to be well rested for the morning?”

  “No.” King Rishi never looked up. His repetitions back and forth across the floor were maddening. “We need to be prepared for his return. Soldiers and mages need to be posted all around the courtyard. If the Empire tries anything shady, we need to be ready for it.”

  “Don’t you think if they were going to try something then they wouldn’t have let the letter come through?”

  Marc may have had a point, but Gib was beyond being able to tell what it was. He yawned behind his hand and fought to keep his eyes open. Surely they would dismiss him any time now, and he would be able to slink back to the dormitory and fall into bed. He’d lost track of the time ages ago, but he suspected it had to be closer to sunrise than sunset now.

  The Blessed Mage Natori stood by one of the bookcases. Dark rings circled her eyes, but she still managed to set Gib on edge. Her hand rested atop the hilt of her sword, and he was sure she was prepared to strike, despite her apparent lethargy. “Should I rally the sentinels now? Give them their orders for first light?”

  The King barely spared her a glance. “Sooner. The mark before first light.”

  Aodan snorted. “It’s nearly the mark b’fore sunrise now. Better give that order if yer gonna.”

  Natori gave a brief nod. “Right. I’ll deliver the message. Aodan, you summon Roland. We’ll need skilled, trustworthy warriors on hand.”

  “Aye, an’ get my teeth kicked in fer my troubles.” Aodan leapt from his seat and made for the door. He and the mage had only just stopped to remove their slippers when Natori whirled around on one heel. Gib shrank in his seat as her shrewd eyes fixed on him—no, on the window.

  Behind him came the sudden crackling of energy, and without turning around Gib could see blue light flashing, reflecting off the walls of the suite. Heart in his throat, he dared to look out the window and gasped when he saw the portal in the courtyard below had fired to life. “They’re back!”

  The King roared a command for them all to go to the courtyard even as Natori confirmed NezReth was the one who powered the spell. Marc grabbed Gib’s arm, sprinting to the door, telling him to stay close. Marc might need to mend injuries and might have to call on Gib for aid. King Rishi disappeared into an adjacent room and came back wielding a sharpened longsword.

  They were out in the hall before Gib’s head could stop spinning. Royal soldiers raced to keep up. He ran with the rest of them, sleep suddenly a million leagues from his mind. He’d longed for the moment when he’d be reunited with Joel, but he hadn’t anticipated the raw tension roiling his guts. Something had to be wrong. Why were they here so early? Was Joel all right? What about Koal?

  The slippers from the King’s suite were ill suited to the slick stone of the palace floors, and Gib had to catch his balance more than once. As they tore down the corridors, he watched King Rishi and Natori lead the way. They both had their swords drawn in preparation for battle. Natori’s weapon was even bathed in blue, hissing magic. Gib’s breath caught at the awe of it. It was like something from a Tale of Fae, fierce and frightening.

  He suddenly wished he carried a blade, too. Turning to see if he could spot a spare of any sort, he noted one member of their party seemed to be missing. Where was Aodan? He wasn’t up by the King, and he wasn’t guarding their backs either. Had he gone back to get a weapon?

  “On your guard now!” King Rishi’s voice filled the entire palace. “Who knows what the enemy has in mind!”

  “The portal has already closed,” Natori replied through arduous breaths.

  Gib tried to keep his nerves in check. Had there been enough time for everyone to get through? He craned his neck, trying to see around the gate that led into the courtyard.

  The gate opened and soldiers grabbed torches as they passed from the lighted hall into the dark night. Someone thrust one into Gib’s hand, and he accepted it without protest.

  The frigid air was unforgiving as it hit his face and snow came up well past the tops of his dainty slippers, but Gib barely noticed. The courtyard was impossibly long as they trudged across it. Gib sucked in a sharp breath. Where was the stone archway? It had been there a moment ago when the blue light had first flared, but now all that remained was a pile of rubble.

  “Where is everyone? Are they all here?” the King demanded as he strode ahead of Gib.

  “All but one. Two extras.” Aodan’s rough voice responded. He barked a command to the soldiers. “Bring the torches here to the injured. Keep those two under lock an’ key. Don’t let them outta yer sight!”

  Gib frowned. How had Aodan gotten out here so fast? And who were the two shrouded figures cowering away from him? Gib didn’t have time to think about it. Marc grabbed his shoulder and dragged him toward the envoys. “Hold up the light where I can see!”

  Gib pushed the torch higher into the air and any thoughts outside that moment vanished. Koal stood lopsided, leaning against Hasain. The front of the seneschal’s armor was marred crimson and his right hand had come up to stabilize an arrow shaft embedded in his left shoulder. Gib froze, recalling the uncanny similarity to the King’s assassination attempt almost three years prior.

  “Koal! What the hell happened?” King Rishi’s voice was hoarse. His long strides carried him over to the seneschal in an instant. Sheathing his sword in one fluid movement, he helped support Koal.

  Marc plowed through the snow and put both hands on the seneschal’s chest. “Can you breathe?”

  Koal lurched away from the touch, his curt voice labored. “I’m fine for now. Check Liro.”

  Fine? Damn him and his pride! Gib couldn’t tell if he was scared or furious. Who did Koal think he was fooling? Having an arrow sticking out of his chest was no small matter.

  Marc began to protest, but Koal put an immediate end to it. “Liro! He’s unconscious.” Red faced, Marc looked at the King. The seneschal was having none of their concern. “If the arrow hit my heart or lung, I’d already be dead. Go see to Liro.”

  The King nodded once and gestured for Marc to go to Liro before pointing at a royal guard. “Summon more healers. Now!”

  As Gib followed, a horrible feeling began to churn in his stomach. Where was Joel? Blinking around in the darkness, he couldn’t immediately find the mage and paralyzing fear blossomed in his heart. Joel had returned, hadn’t he? Surely he must be here, but the dark was so thick Gib couldn’t find him.

  “Down here, Gib,” Marc directed.

  Liro lay on the ground beside the rubble of the archway. At first he appeared as bad off as Koal suggested, but when Gib lowered the torch, he could see Liro’s eyes fluttering open and closed. He was trying to come out of his “sleep.”

  Somewhere in the background, Gib could hear the King conversing with Koal, attempting to keep him alert and talking. Natori questioned NezReth about the collapsed portal. Marc was trying to get Liro to respond to his voice. Hundreds of different things were happening, but Gib could scarcely take in any of it. His eyes were fixed on Aodan, who had crouched beside a still form everyone else seemed to have overlooked.

  “J–Joel?” The young mage didn’t stir, and the sight of his blood-soaked robes made Gib’s head swim. He lumbered a step closer, voice rising to
a screech. “Joel?”

  Joel’s eyes opened. He turned his head and looked straight through Gib. His mouth moved but all that came out was a guttural sob. Gib was at his side in an instant, on his knees in the ruined snow, trying to determine where the blood was coming from. “Marc! Marc, he needs you! He’s bleeding everywhere!”

  A hand closed over his and gently took the torch away. “Nay, lad. He’s all right. Joel’s gonna be fine.”

  Gib turned an incredulous stare up at Aodan. “N–no. Look at him! He’s bleeding out!”

  A pained look crossed the bodyguard’s features and his demeanor softened. He put a bare knee down in the snow—it was beyond reasoning how the Derr wasn’t freezing to death out here in just his kilt and slippers—and lowered the torch to better illuminate Joel’s robes. “Calm yerself, Nemesio. It’s not his blood.”

  The nausea was tempered by his relief. Not Joel’s blood? Gib looked again, closer this time. The light flickered in the cold night but burned brightly enough for him to see Aodan spoke the truth. He couldn’t find an actual wound or source of the bleeding. Joel’s nose and lower face were smeared and beginning to bruise, but there was no way a nosebleed had caused the damage to his robes.

  Gib was finally able to take a breath. “But then—whose?”

  He looked around. Koal and Hasain still stood huddled together, the King at their side. Liro was beginning to respond to Marc’s voice, following a finger with his eyes and clutching some trinket around his neck. NezReth leaned against Natori, pale and unstable, just inside the torch’s circle of light. Sinking realization dawned. “Where’s Ambassador Cenric?”

  Joel sucked in a ragged breath and broke down into unintelligible sobs. Oh. Gib sat, dumbstruck, in the snow. He didn’t know what to say or do so he simply put a hand atop Joel’s head. His companion trembled under the touch but didn’t try to move away.

  “He fell a hero,” NezReth said. Still clutching Natori’s shoulders, he looked toward King Rishi. “His tomb should be decorated as a hero.”

  Aodan groaned as he stood. “He’s dead, then? You’re certain?”