Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  Evelayn searched her mind for an answer to satisfy the Ancient’s question. And then it dawned on her. “Balance. I want to stop King Bain and restore peace to Lachalonia.”

  “Ah, balance. A tricky thing. Even when attained, it can so easily be upset again.” Máthair Damhán struck out so quickly, slicing into Evelayn’s palm with a talon, that the Ancient knocked the Solascás from her hands before she could react. It crashed to the stone floor and shattered. A blast of light knocked Evelayn off her feet to land with a thud on the ground a dozen paces away, her head cracking against the rock. “One wrong move, and it is gone.”

  Evelayn moaned and rolled over onto her knees, ignoring the sharp pain and the warmth of blood oozing down her neck to lift her head and stare at the shattered crystal on the ground. Her one bargaining chip was gone. Dismay threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it back, refusing to have come all this way for nothing.

  She slowly, deliberately climbed back to her feet and met Máthair Damhán’s inhuman stare with a cold glare. “You say that you have lived since before time began, and will live past the last of our world? I wouldn’t be so sure. You have rejected our offering of goodwill—a priceless emblem of power—and have threatened to upset the balance of our world further. You are right. Balance is hard to obtain and possibly even harder to maintain.” Evelayn summoned her sun-sword and it flared into existence faster than a blink of an eye, brighter and more powerful than it had ever been before, aided by the power that flowed through the White Peak into her conduit stone—into her. “But it is worth fighting for, and fight I will. Even if it means fighting you. You know the power I have access to as the Queen of Éadrolan, standing on the ground upon which the Immortal Tree lives. You may be Ancient, but the power I wield is infinite and you will not triumph.”

  Máthair Damhán’s lips curled into a feral smile, exposing all her pointed fangs. “You are so very young. Brave, it is true. But also foolish. If I had wanted you dead, Queen of Éadrolan, you would already have joined your parents in the Final Light. That is not my wish. And I have no need for your offering. But I will give you the skein of silk you request.”

  Evelayn’s sword dropped an inch as she watched in stunned silence as the Mother of Spiders, the Ancient tasked with protecting the Immortal Tree, reached up with two of her enormous legs and began to spool a strand of iridescent silk from her spinneret.

  In a matter of moments she had finished, lifting the gleaming skein to her hands and holding it up.

  “You speak of balance, young queen, but I wonder if you know where the true imbalance began?”

  Evelayn couldn’t take her eyes off the silk. “I … I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Do you think the power you wield was always yours to conquer—to disperse through the stone that burns in your breast?”

  Evelayn finally looked away from the silk to meet Máthair Damhán’s chilling gaze. “What—what are you talking about?”

  “Once the power was only Ours. Until it was taken by the First, claimed and chained to your bodies through those stones. I have no need for your gift because I can still access your power for brief moments. No more than what that vial would have given me, but it is something. However, I can’t keep it. And so, if it is balance you truly wish for, the silk is yours. But only if you grant me a favor.”

  “What favor?” Evelayn repeated, her terror returning along with a pulsating sense of dread.

  “Ah, that is the crucial question, isn’t it?” Máthair Damhán inched toward her, lowering the silk until it was almost within her reach. “You must promise me this favor without knowing what it is, believing only that I, too, long for balance. I will aid you in your quest today to stop the Dorjhalon King, but in return, you will aid me when it is time.”

  Evelayn’s heart pumped uncertainly in her chest, her hands clammy once more. An unknown favor given to an Ancient by a queen of Éadrolan? What could Máthair Damhán possibly need from her? The stone in her breast burned hot, almost as if it was trying to warn her.

  But what choice did she have? Without the silk she was certain to fail. With it, she had the chance to stop Bain. She’d told her council that surely an Ancient would wish to maintain peace and balance in their world—and it seemed that Máthair Damhán did indeed want balance. But what frightened Evelayn was that she had never heard a story of power being stolen for the Draíolon from the Ancients. What exactly was Máthair Damhán’s definition of balance?

  Everything inside her felt cold, except for the burning stone, when Evelayn finally said, “One favor.”

  The Mother of Spiders presented the skein to her with another curl of her black lips. It was lighter than Evelayn could have ever imagined; it felt as though she were cradling a cloud in her hands. Smoother than water, but strong enough to entrap even a Draíolon as powerful as the King of Dorjhalon. There was nothing in all of Lachalonia that was its equal. “Thank you,” she murmured and then turned to the mouth of the cave. She’d begun to walk away but paused when the Ancient spoke again.

  “Use it well, little queen,” Máthair Damhán said, a note of warning in her voice, “for you may find it came at a higher price than you had anticipated.”

  Evelayn whirled to look at the Ancient again, but when she faced the tunnel there was nothing but shadow and the faint remnant of Máthair Damhán’s scent.

  ONCE SHE WAS OUTSIDE IN THE LIGHT, EVELAYN tucked the precious silk into her knapsack and tried to ignore the nagging sense that she had made a terrible mistake. But if she hadn’t made the deal, she would have returned empty-handed. It would only have been a matter of time before King Bain succeeded in killing her, and her people would lose their power—possibly forever. She’d never heard of any Draíolon other than a direct descendant of a royal being born with a conduit stone. Which was what had spurred High Priestess Teca’s lecture about being Bound and producing an heir, she knew.

  But Máthair Damhán’s claim that the power had once only belonged to the Ancients had shaken her. Where had the conduit stones come from—and why did they only pass from royals to their children?

  The hike back to Tanvir and Kel was a blur. She was vaguely aware of a throbbing pain in her head and the heat of the sun on her neck and face. Her gaze was trained on the treacherous path, so she didn’t see the concern on the two males’ faces until she was nearly to them and finally looked up.

  Kel watched her in that direct, disconcerting way of his, not betraying any sort of reaction. Tanvir, however, took a half step toward her. When their gazes met, a shadow of dismay darkened his expression.

  “You weren’t successful?”

  “I have the silk.”

  A look of confusion crossed Tanvir’s face before he broke into an exultant smile. “You did it? You have it?”

  “Yes.”

  He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows pulled down slightly. “I’m not sure I understand … Why aren’t you celebrating?”

  “I … I am just in shock, I think.” Evelayn stumbled through her response. She didn’t want to tell him or Kel what she’d done—what she’d promised. A favor to Máthair Damhán. You may find it came at a higher price than you had anticipated … the Ancient’s warning burrowed beneath her skin, a painful burr that kept her from smiling.

  “If we hurry, perhaps we can still make it back before the gap closes, Your Majesty,” Kel finally spoke up, thankfully not commenting on her lack of excitement at achieving her goal.

  Evelayn squinted up at the sky. The sun was past its zenith, but not by far. The negotiation had been quicker than anticipated. Perhaps … if they sprinted the entire way back to the border …

  “I’ll take the lead.” Evelayn took off at a dead run and didn’t glance back at the White Peak—or the black tear halfway up the pale stone where Máthair Damhán waited for the day she would call in her favor.

  Evelayn ran harder than she ever had before, until the sweat poured over her eyes and down her neck, soaking through her clothes.
She didn’t turn to see if Kel and Tanvir were keeping up or not. She didn’t watch for Dark Draíolon waiting to attack. She just ran.

  The forest had begun to fall into shadow once more when they burst out of the trees, the border in sight. The priestesses had been instructed to leave a gap in the wards until sundown of the fourth day. The sun was already sinking below the western horizon. Evelayn’s breath came out in harsh gasps as she kicked up her heels and extended her stride even more.

  Almost there, almost there.

  She just hoped sundown meant after the sun had completely set to the priestesses, not as soon as it reached the horizon.

  Evelayn was only a few feet away from the border when she slowed, hesitating slightly. She wasn’t sure what would happen to her if the wards were back in place …

  “Your Majesty!”

  Evelayn barely heard the shout over the roar of her blood in her ears and the harsh gasps of her breathing. There’s no time for fear.

  “Evelayn!”

  She sprinted right past the border into Éadrolan.

  With a cry of triumph—and relief—Evelayn whirled to face Dorjhalon. Kel and Tanvir emerged from the forest, but Kel’s arm was around Tanvir’s shoulders and they were moving in a strange half limp, half jog toward her, with Tanvir doing most of the work and Kel doing most of the limping.

  Tanvir glanced up and a grin broke across his face, even though he was sweating and straining with the effort of dragging Kel toward her. “You made it!” He called out.

  “What happened?” Evelayn shouted back, stepping closer to the border once more.

  “No! Stay there!” Kel was the one who yelled this time.

  She glanced at the western horizon and her heart sank in dismay. The sun had nearly set, the last curve of its fiery girth was barely visible above the tree line. Hurry, hurry!

  They were only a few steps away when there was a draw of power through her stone; at the same time she felt a surge of power in front of her.

  “Wait!”

  But they were already dashing across the border—or into it, rather. Tanvir and Kel were both blasted backward, landing with two dull thuds on the barren ground in Dorjhalon.

  “Tanvir!” Evelayn lurched forward, but made herself stop, realizing if she crossed through the same thing would happen to her.

  Kel was slow to get back up; Tanvir had to help him to his feet. Evelayn couldn’t see any visible injuries, but his usual verbena and mint was laced with something sharp and lingering—a scent that made her think of pain and suffering.

  “What happened?”

  Tanvir glanced up and followed her gaze to Kel, whom he still supported, even though they were both standing.

  “He fell and snapped a bone in his leg. We didn’t have time to properly set it and have any hope of reaching the border in time, so he insisted we keep going. It’s healing wrong.”

  Kel wouldn’t meet her eyes, staring at the ground the entire time Tanvir spoke. Guilt mingled with the pain, creating a thick, fetid musk.

  There was a long silence and then Tanvir said, “You have to keep going.”

  “And leave you in Dorjhalon?” Though she couldn’t see the wall that now separated them, she could sense it—could feel the draw of power through her stone. Evelayn wished to beat her hands against it, to tear it down.

  “You don’t have a choice. Summer solstice is nearly here, and Bain will attack.”

  Kel finally lifted his head, his eyes dark with pain. “Listen to Lord Tanvir, Your Majesty,” he urged, clinging to formalities even now.

  “No. I’m not leaving you there. You’ll be captured or killed. Or you’ll have to journey through the Undead Forest …” She trailed off with a shudder, not needing to say any more about the risks of a journey through the sacred—but terrifying—woods on the eastern shore of Lachalonia, where it was rumored more than one Ancient lived, including the Spirit Harbinger. She refused to let them suffer any of those fates.

  “Step back,” she ordered.

  Alarm flashed across Tanvir’s face. “What are you going to do?”

  “Just get back,” she repeated pointing toward the trees from which they had emerged a few minutes prior. “I’m going to try and break down the wards, but I don’t know what will happen when I do.”

  Tanvir helped Kel limp back toward the forest while Evelayn took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  She could sense the magic of the wards—the power being drawn through her stone by the priestesses. But she’d never tried to unravel it before, to figure out how the priestesses did it—or how to tear it down. When she reached for the power it was there, a massive well waiting to be tapped, and it surged up at her call almost effortlessly.

  Evelayn opened her eyes and glanced up at the nearly dark sky. The sun was completely gone, so calling a beam of sunlight to burn a hole in the wards, which had been her only idea, was not an option. Her stone burned hot in her breastbone, waiting for her.

  What do I do?

  Evelayn took a step closer, so that she stood on the edge of the border, but she couldn’t feel the invisible wall made by the priestesses far away in Ristra, where the largest battles had been fought. She knew there were some priestesses who traveled up and down the line of the border, making sure the wards held all across the two kingdoms, from the ocean to the west to the Sliabán Mountains that marked the eastern edge of the borderlands before the Undead Forest. But they couldn’t wait for one of them to show up and help them—that could take days or weeks.

  She lifted her hands, palms out, trying to touch the wards. There was something there, but it felt like an elusive dream, a slippery, hazy half-remembered thing that she couldn’t quite hold on to. Evelayn closed her eyes again, trying to shut out everything else. She slowed her breathing. There was only her and the power for which she was a conduit.

  She had to be able to figure it out.

  And finally, there, beneath the slight breeze that brought the scent of juniper from Dorjhalon into Éadrolan, was an intricate web of Light Power. Evelayn exhaled softly. The subtle complexity of the exquisitely crafted tapestry was … stunning. No wonder it took decades for the novices to study and learn before becoming full priestesses.

  But Evelayn was no ordinary Draíolon, and she didn’t have time to be subtle.

  She let the tiniest bit of power trickle out of her fingertips into the wards, testing their makeup. Instead of releasing from her body, the power wove itself into the wards, connecting her to them. She could feel the strands stretching to the mountains on her right and back to Ristra, a day’s running away on her left, and beyond. There were two unbelievably thin layers—one on the Dorjhalon side and one on the Éadrolan side—a subtle but important difference between the two. That difference had to be the key, she realized, because the wards allowed Draíolon to leave Éadrolan, but kept them from returning.

  If she could somehow push the layer closest to Éadrolan through the second layer … perhaps it would create a hole that Tanvir and Kel could come through.

  Evelayn sent more power out of her hands into the invisible wards, her eyes still closed, trying to feel her way through. Her power coiled around the delicately woven strands of the first layer. The only thing she could think to do was to send it out, toward Dorjhalon, much as she’d done when she had trained with Kelwyn, trying to hit targets. She swallowed once, hard, sending up a silent prayer—please let this work—and then pushed the threads away from her, toward King Bain’s kingdom. There was a blink of time, the space between one heartbeat and the next, when nothing happened. And then the first layer exploded through the second in a collision of power that blasted Evelayn off her feet, throwing her backward through the air to land flat on her back, staring up at the velvet sky, unable to breathe.

  EVELAYN!”

  She heard someone shout her name as if through a tunnel, echoing distantly. Her head ached. Her whole body ached. And then someone was there, hovering over her.

  “Ev, are you al
l right?”

  She blinked and Tanvir’s face came into focus as he knelt beside her, lifting a hand to brush her hair back from her forehead.

  “I … I think so—”

  And then it dawned on her.

  “It worked!” Evelayn slowly sat up, still a bit dizzy, but exultant.

  Tanvir grinned at her just as Kel limped up to them. “I knew you could do it,” he said.

  Kel sat down heavily next to her on the ground, allowing Evelayn to look at his leg more closely for the first time. It was definitely crooked.

  He noticed her gaze and waved her off. “You two go ahead without me. I’ll be safe now that we’re in Éadrolan. I can find a healer to help me when I make it back to the castle.”

  “No,” Evelayn immediately responded. “I got you in this mess and I’m not leaving you behind.” She’d already mostly recovered from tearing the hole in the wards; only a lingering shakiness in her hands remained. She knelt beside the general and gently probed at his leg. There was a large lump where he’d snapped the long thighbone, and when she pressed she could feel that it had started to fuse back together off-center.

  “What can we do?” She glanced up at Tanvir, who knelt beside her.

  “We’re going to have to re-break the bone and set it so it heals correctly,” he replied darkly.

  Kel grimaced but didn’t argue. “Do what you must.”

  “How do we do that?” Evelayn glanced up at the inky sky above them. The first few stars were already blinking in the black expanse, and there was a slight chill to the air wafting toward them from Dorjhalon.

  “If you hold him, I will do it. I’ve had to do it before on the battlefield.”

  Evelayn nodded and moved to Kel’s torso, trying not to think about why he’d had to do this before—or on whom.

  “Hold his arms down, don’t let him thrash.”

  “My leg is broken, not my ears, Lord Tanvir. And I’m perfectly capable of holding still on my own,” Kel finally spoke up, but his voice was strained and the air was rank with the scent of his pain and fear.