Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1)

by Mallory McCartney

  Azarius turned, taking in Alby rigidly, like he was seeing a ghost. Pushing soldiers out of the way, Alby continued to his brother. Azarius shook his head, sprinting across the room, but every soldier within the grotto had sprung into action, weapons unsheathing.

  “Rebels! Restrain them!” Adair’s men shouted.

  Azarius grabbed the front of Alby’s shirt, looking like he wanted to punch him but not before Alby grabbed his forearms, wrenching him out of the way of a soaring knife. The blade hit the stone wall where Azarius had just been standing.

  Shouting desperately, every guard in the vicinity locked in on them. “Prisoners! Restrain them!”

  No, Memphis thought, watching the chaos unfold.

  Turning to run back to the group, the guards followed swiftly. In front of them, a guard locked eyes with Memphis, a grin spreading across his face as he recognized him.

  “Might as well finish what Adair wanted done.”

  Memphis heard the knife leave the man's hand, and it cut through the air. He couldn’t do anything more than look into the guard’s dead eyes. He felt her throw her weight into him, shoving him out of the way. Purple hair whisked around her face - the knife landed with a thud into flesh.

  Alby, in that same instant, grabbed Memphis’s hand and screamed, “Everyone get in line!”

  Memphis grabbed Nyx’s hand, the blood pooling around her. Where is she hit?! The panic choked him. The hilt of the blade protruded out of her left shoulder; the steel dug in deep.

  “Memphis, grab her. We have to get out of here now!” Alby yelled.

  Lurching forward as if every limb was disconnected from his body, Memphis scooped up her light body, and the coolness of Alby’s ability washed over them all. Her color had turned ashen; blood was spattered along her jawline. Memphis was soon covered in her fresh blood.

  They moved as fast as they could around livid guards who had, in an instant, lost an entire group of fugitives.

  Adair’s grottos were a maze of stone walls, and they wove around and around different staircases until they came to a small waterfall and cave mouth. Azarius talked quickly and briskly to Alby.

  Nyx was like a flickering candle in his arms, her pulse racing against every second that she lost more blood.

  “You idiot,” Memphis said to her.

  A whisper of a smirk crossed her lips, and she was fixated on him for one burning moment. “Memphis...I never thought...” Her words died on her breath as she lost consciousness once again.

  She never thought it would lead to this. But all the lives lost...what did Nyx think would happen if she went to Adair? He was ruthless. He wasn’t human.

  And Emory...

  No, Memphis. Let her go. Let them both go.

  Azarius barked back at them, “We move as one. If we make it to the Ruined City, we have a chance.” He spoke firmly and with authority, his eyes never leaving Memphis’s. Azarius had a glare of accusation burning in his gaze. Memphis’s blood ran cold.

  Then ducking into the waterfall, they left the buried kingdom behind and, in doing so, leaving every hope Memphis had as well.

  ***

  The wind was warm against their faces when the group collapsed, and Alby allowed them to be uncovered once more. The walls of the house they were in had been smashed, concrete dust floating in the air. Alby rushed over to him and Nyx at once, inspecting her wound.

  “She’s lost too much blood. We have to get the blade out now and try to cauterize the wound,” Alby said and bit his lip as they gently lowered her to the ground.

  Azarius stood in the shadows behind them.

  Memphis quickly, and with sure hands, ripped a strip off the bottom of his tattered shirt and bent down beside Nyx. Taking a deep breath, he silently wished she would stay unconscious as he gripped the weapon tight and, in one motion, ripped it from her shoulder. Warm blood spilled from her body faster than before, and he quickly tied a makeshift bandage tight, trying to stem the flow.

  “She won’t make it,” Azarius spat.

  Memphis didn’t realize Azarius had moved behind him, and he straightened up to meet him.

  “With the risk of infection and loss of blood, she will not survive,” Azarius elaborated.

  “And who are you to decide her fate?” Anger swelled in Memphis like a wave.

  Narrowing his eyes, Azarius said, “Unlike you, I am a survivor. And as someone who has survived in this world fighting against Adair every day, I have seen wounds like this, and it does not end well.”

  “Azarius...” Alby said his name quietly.

  Azarius looked to his brother. “No. You, I haven’t even begun to start with. Stay out of this, Alby.” Then Azarius drove a finger hard into Memphis’s chest. “You have hid away in your Academy while thousands of people have died. And what was it for? The girl who just threw every hope you had away for her throne?” He snorted.

  “And now, where does that leave you? Homeless, without direction, hoping that we will take your group in, while in the last years, it was you that left us in the cold.”

  Angry spit flew at his face, and Memphis was speechless.

  “You call yourself their leader. You don’t have the first idea about sacrifice. You have only done what’s good for you, not your group, and it was all left to your selfish decisions.”

  Memphis’s right hook was direct as his fist slammed into Azarius’s jaw, cracking at the impact.

  Azarius staggered back, laughing. He spat out blood and rubbed his face. “See? You can’t admit to yourself that it’s true. Her...” he pointed to Nyx, “...blood will be on your hands, including everyone else’s.” He turned away, adding, “As for you, a trial with our leader will settle it.”

  Facing the group, Azarius said, “We leave at first light. We take turns being on lookout tonight and get through this together.”

  He stalked away, haughtily, leaving Memphis surrounded by broken people.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Adair

  The knife wedged itself deeply in the wall with a satisfying thud. The black steel was flawless, thanks to having the best smithy in Kiero. The steel was able to cut through rock and marble. Riona Welsh, time after time, had outdone herself.

  Adair retrieved it quickly, pacing back and forth. The remaining light of the day spilled into his room—which was in the highest cave. An array of bookshelves and weapons scattered through it. He sent the knife flying once more, its carved hilt gleaming as it soared, and he tried to arrange his thoughts.

  How exactly had this happened?

  Over the past six years, he had managed to collect order over the entire kingdom but now...not one, but two, resistances had emerged. And Emory from her grave.

  Adair grabbed the knife, twirling it between his long fingers. His next decision would dictate everything. When Emory had appeared before him, claiming she had come to join him, he was certain another hallucination had started and what ill timing it was. Yet, she was in the cells, and the rebels had infiltrated his halls. Not only that, but they had managed to escape with all the prisoners.

  They had challenged him and succeeded.

  Ghosts of the past had returned, and what consuming things they were...

  The silver of the blade glinted as he slammed the point into the wood of his desk, his scrolls jumping from the impact. Drumming his fingers, he planned his next move. He would dance with the rebels if they wanted to dance. Finding their whereabouts wouldn’t be hard if he, himself, finally took a part.

  For six years, he had hidden and protected the Book of Old. It has been his teacher and the key behind building his empire. His soldiers had scoured the land, recruiting all that would join him and destroying all who wouldn’t. He was their government—their king.

  “Isn’t this what you taught me? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Shouting into the silence, his questions hung in the air. Adair gritted his teeth.

  If it wasn’t for Memphis and Brokk, he should have known. They had always favored her, wanting t
o protect her, to love her.

  What Emory didn’t realize was that she didn’t have to run. He killed her parents to attain the book, and the Oilean demanded a blood price. A sacrifice for the greater good. They could have been a team—the greatest king and queen. She was his equal. If she wasn’t a rebel spy.

  Anger bubbled up inside, and he threw the knife, aiming for the back of the door. He didn’t need to look to know it found its mark. Together, Emory and he could be unstoppable. But if he was wrong about her...

  “But you love her.”

  The voices cooed around his mind, his cage, mocking him.

  His guards had contained her as soon as the unexplainable tornadoes had started, as well as dragging him away to safety. He hadn’t given her a chance to talk to him. Should he?

  Stalking around his room, his palms tingled. There had been whispers of a rebel resistance rising because Emory Fae had returned, but he had scoffed at the rumors. It wasn’t until Nyx had come to his court, showing him that the rumors were true. In exchange for Emory, Nyx had foolishly believed that he would grant the rebels freedom.

  He had “gifted” her with an enchanted amulet that allowed him to control her and everything that had happened that night. He had hoped she would prove him wrong. He saw Nyx kill that blue haired girl, Bryd. With her death, the Academy had appeared from its concealed state, and his soldiers destroyed it.

  He was victorious—until Memphis had gotten Emory out.

  Now he had nothing to worry about. She had come right to his doorstep.

  As for the other rebels, their time would come.

  But how far was Emory willing to go to show her allegiance to him? If she crossed him, she would pay the price with her life. The faint hint of excitement flickered through his face as the plan formed.

  A curt knock brought him to the present. “Enter,” he said.

  Two panting guards stumbled in and bowed lowly. His captains in command of both regiments stood before him, looking very flustered.

  “Captains, what news?” Sitting on the edge of his desk, interlocking his fingers, he observed them. Adair smelled the tension rolling off them in waves. He would maintain order.

  “In search for the escaped rebels, we have come across another just outside the gates. He is asking for you, and sir, he is covered in fresh blood.”

  Very intriguing.

  “Very well. Bring him in, but to the dungeons first. I have instructions for the current matter at hand.”

  The next half an hour he spent explaining what exactly was to be done in regard to Emory. Nothing was going to go amiss. Not this time.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Brokk

  Strange tubes had been attached to his body, his blood swirling through them. Struggling for breath, Brokk fought to live.

  He cracked an eye open, his left too swollen shut to move. The basement was currently empty, his only company a dimly lit candle. He had no idea how much time had passed, whether he had been here for weeks or months.

  I will not break. You are Brokk. Foster. You will not fall. This had become his daily mantra, his lifeline.

  He had undergone a series of torture, both mental and physical. Their approach, though, was completely foreign to him. Why were they collecting his blood? The tubes encompassed different parts of his body, all of them funneling to a clear basin near his feet. There were too many tubes to count, but he could hear the gentle trickle as the blood was drained.

  Brokk felt lightheaded, his palms becoming clammy. Focus. He had to escape. Or he would die. The clarity of this sang through his body as gentle creaks of footsteps sounded, and the door creaked open. Peyton appeared, all business as usual.

  “Ah, dear, things are coming along nicely here, aren’t they? The Oilean will be pleased.”

  He rasped, “And where are the demons?” He didn’t recognize his voice; it was a hoarse grumble.

  “Ah! He does speak. And I wouldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.” She flashed a brilliant look at him, having taken on her younger form.

  She continued to bustle about, humming a gentle tune. Brokk could feel the edges of his consciousness being pulled at, and he licked his lips. They were gone then, temporarily at least. He took a breath in, his mind felt clear and crisp—even if his body felt like it had been chewed through a mill.

  They had left him not drugged. He hid his grin. Usually, they dosed him up with a serum concocted that wouldn’t allow him to shapeshift, but for whatever reason... It clicked together. They needed his blood clean for their purpose.

  This would be his only chance.

  It would be a longshot. But he would try—or die doing so. It had been awhile, but it was as familiar as breathing to him. He closed his eyes, letting go. His body cracked swiftly, and with a growl that ripped through his entire body, he flung himself forward, ignoring the pain. The tubes ripped from his body—his blood flying everywhere—but he had only one target.

  Peyton turned around just as he collided with her, and they were sent crashing into the brick wall. She was stunned and, with strength he didn’t know he still had, slashed his claws across her chest, black blood pouring from the wounds. Her eyes went wide, and with his ears back and teeth bared, he lunged toward her jugular and ripped it apart. It was only until she stopped struggling that he stopped.

  Panting heavily, he staggered back, eyes flicking toward the stones. It was pulsing an eerie green hue. Brokk could sense the energy building around the stones. A strange noise cut through the air, and the power kept building, like a bomb. He had to get out now.

  He set out in a gallop, crashing through the door; it broke apart in a thousand shards of wood. He took the stairs almost in one leap and came into the kitchen, a thousand scents overwhelming him. In that instant, the basement exploded from underneath him. Yelping, he was thrown back but, regaining his balance, hurled himself through the nearest window, shards of glass exploding around him as he was thrown into a blistering light. The sun.

  Blinking hard as Brokk readjusted, he pushed himself forward and set off at a run, and each time his pads pounded the earth, it echoed his freedom. Trees blurred around him, and he relished the outside world in its light.

  What he had gone through rippled through him, his body painfully reminding him of what they had done. He looked back over his golden fur and saw, to his delight, smoke curling toward the sky where the cottage had been. They couldn’t follow him or send Peyton after him. For the time being, he was free.

  His tongue licked the blood from his muzzle, and he looked to the sky. Dusk would be upon him within the hour and, with that, the night. To the west lay the Academy...but beyond that? He had always been loyal to Memphis, but he needed answers about his past. He couldn’t let his friends die—if they weren’t already dead.

  Slowing to a trot, Brokk came upon a rushing river. He lowered down to it, the cool water rushing over his muzzle as he lapped it up. He could already feel his body healing itself with a renewed pace and sighed in satisfaction.

  First, he would find out what happened to Black Dawn, which meant paying a visit to the Academy. After that... His muzzle curled into a snarl over his glistening teeth. After that, he would find his doppelganger, destroy him, and then find his answers.

  He set off at a brisk lope, wishing for the night to come and swearing to himself he would turn it crimson if they had died.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Emory

  For the first time since returning to Kiero, Emory dreamt of her mother.

  Clad in a gold gown and her golden hair falling loosely, her mother was unearthly. Sitting down, Nei looked at Emory, warmth spreading through her features. They were in a long empty hallway, sunlight pouring in the bay windows surrounding them.

  “Darling, how you have grown into a beautiful woman.”

  She felt tears prick her eyes as she reached for her mother’s hand. “Where are we?”

  “A safe place. They can’t find us here,” Nei said.


  Who? A shiver ran through Emory.

  “I don’t have much time.” Nei glanced over her shoulder as if hearing voices. “Emory, you have to stop...”

  In a split second, everything dissolved, and she awoke with a gasp, sweat soaking through her shirt. She hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep. The guard posted outside her cell looked smugly at her, and she made rude gestures with her hands that he chuckled at. Emory leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to make sense of her dream.

  What had that been all about?

  For now, she tucked it away along with every other thought and sighed. “Can I speak with him now?” she asked.

  The guard clucked his tongue at her. “No.”

  “Even if I say please?” she purred.

  He spat on the ground, saying nothing.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “You can shut that pretty little mouth of yours, or I will shut it for you.”

  Now it was her turn to look smug.

  Someone else laughed a couple of cells down. Who else was in here? She had hoped all the rebels had gotten out. She licked her cracked lips; she would find out soon enough.

  Her mind felt foggy, and she ran over what she would say to Adair Stratton for the millionth time...

  And Emory waited.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Memphis

  Nyx hung in his arms, resembling a skeleton, while they walked, the Ruined City long behind them. Alby hadn’t said a word to him since his confrontation with Azarius.

  Silently, they trudged on, the landscape evening out to a flowing plain before them. Tall grass swayed in the wind, mesmerizing him.

  How had he gotten here? He had tried to protect Black Dawn, but set on revenge, he had, in fact, stifled their flame. Now... He looked down at Nyx. They had bound the wound the best they could, but she had lost so much blood.

  He couldn’t lose her and Emory both.

  Emory... He had tried to push out any further thought of her, but tired and broken, she flooded into his thoughts. She had played him. He believed she was his future. He had hurt and placed doubt in his best friend; he had lied to Nyx; he had broken their rebellion. All for nothing.