Dawnbringer Read online

  “Come, Rand, there’s naught we can do for him now. This is his wish.”

  Then the horde closed around the priest. Even as Malek urged Rand and the others onward, he could hear Jannik’s heroic battle cries in his ears several more moments before he fell silent.

  They ran for what felt like another hour but was doubtless much less. The landscape looked identical, as if they hadn’t moved at all in the meantime. The Wall was featureless—Malek hadn’t seen any souls chained to it that he could recall since the pursuit had begun.

  Perhaps we are standing still, running in place. The thought nearly forced a bitter laugh from him.

  They had managed to maintain a decent cushion between them and the horde, even gaining some ground, but Jannik’s spell was wearing off, and the fatigue seized hold of them once again with a vengeance.

  Malek groaned and stumbled, nearly falling as Jannik had. Waresh and Yosrick had slowed to little more than a brisk walk, the gnome’s breath a harsh rasp. Even the staunch dwarf looked ready to keel over. Rand was little better than the others, momentarily bent over and puffing, with hands on his knees.

  “I think this is it, lad.” Waresh puffed in exhaustion.

  He and Yosrick, by mutual agreement, gently set the litter down. They unlimbered their weapons and squared up to face the krabuk, closing in about fifty paces away.

  “I don’t think I can bear to know that they have at Nera,” Yosrick said sadly. “When they get past us, can you…”

  Malek nodded grimly. “They won’t have her—fear not.”

  The pair looked relieved at that thought. They readied themselves for the last stand. Rand halfheartedly loosed a couple arrows into the wall of the horde, but they had no noticeable effect. He set his bow aside and drew his sword.

  The ground trembled beneath the feet of hundreds of krabuk, their sharp mandibles ready to rend their flesh.

  Malek raised the staff, reaching to grasp the mana within, when a dark reflection on the gem caught his attention. He frowned but didn’t have time to ponder it, for a moment later, a gigantic shadow fell over them from a huge form flying low overhead. The wind from its passing stirred swirls of dust and tugged at his robes.

  “What the—” He was so exhausted he could barely comprehend what he was seeing.

  The huge shape looked to be over fifty feet from snout to tail, with an equal wingspan. It blotted out the sky overhead, its shimmering black scales glinting with a red light reflected from the ground and sky. Halfway between the companions and the horde, it stopped its flight, rearing back with a mighty swoop of its wings. Thinking he was hallucinating, he saw three figures clinging to the beast’s back.

  The krabuk halted their advance, unsure of how to react to this new threat.

  Then the dragon—for that was what it had to be—took in a deep lungful of air, sounding like a great bellows. A moment of eerie silence hung in the air, then the dragon released its breath with a great crackling whoosh.

  Flame roared out in a massive blast, washing over the krabuk, who were breaking, trying to flee in every direction. They were lost to sight behind the massive wall of flame. A couple stragglers stumbled out of the inferno, their carapaces blackened, only to fall to the ground, smoke curling from the meat sizzling inside the shells.

  Malek could feel the great heat from where he stood twenty paces away.

  After releasing its breath, the dragon gained altitude, great wings pumping and fanning the flames. Scores of krabuk were charred into shapeless lumps, the ground scorched, and stone melted across a vast area. The horde was in full retreat, streaming back across the plain. Another intake of breath came, followed by another blast of flames.

  Malek sank to the ground, unsure what was happening, but his aching legs were unable to support him any longer. Within moments, the horde was gone, perhaps half destroyed by dragonfire, the rest scattered. Smoke wafted into the air from the charred corpses.

  Fatigue threatened to drag him down into oblivion, but he managed to cling to consciousness. He heard Yosrick’s shocked exclamation and other familiar voices.

  Then someone was speaking to him. He blinked in confusion as a face swam in front of his, and slim arms embraced him. He recognized Endira after a moment. Emotionally and physically drained as he was, he grinned at her in delight like a fool, but his mirth quickly turned to tears when he tried to relate to her what had happened. Idrimel was also there before him, as was Wyat and then Arron, each of them clasping his hand or patting his shoulder.

  The dragon was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, without explanation.

  Malek couldn’t process the events swirling around him any longer and fell into the oblivion of absolute exhaustion.

  ***

  Idrimel knelt beside Nera, gently pressing her hands to the sides of the thief’s head. She closed her eyes for a long while before opening them again, frowning at what her senses were conveying.

  “I… I’m not sure what has happened here. It is as if her soul has stepped out. She is neither alive nor dead.”

  “Her soul? How can that be?” Malek asked.

  “She has spoken of visions granted by her goddess, Sabyl, yes?” When Malek nodded, Idrimel continued, “I think this may be another of those, only the goddess has summoned her away, similar to when she was slain and disappeared while in the Deep Roads. Perhaps this is but another way Sabyl interacts with her Chosen.”

  Malek rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully but didn’t reply.

  “Are you sure I can’t heal you?” she offered.

  The mage shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I’m well enough—simply exhausted, as you can tell.”

  Idrimel rose and squeezed his shoulder. “Rest now, Malek. We shall stand guard. When you awaken, we’ll decide what to do next.”

  They had barely arrived in time to save their friends from the wave of fiends. One moment, the land had been barren before them, the next, their friends had appeared with the demons close on their heels. Arron had decimated them with his dragonfire and bought them some time. Malek, Yosrick, Waresh, and Rand were in rough shape, barely able to stay on their feet after their ordeal. Fortunately, they hadn’t sustained any major injuries.

  The loss of Nera had come as a devastating blow to them all. Idrimel was heartened somewhat after examining her, but they had no way of knowing when, or even if, she would awaken.

  Wyat and Endira stood talking with Yosrick and Arron, who both sat. Waresh and Rand were taking advantage of the respite and catching naps, as soldiers swiftly grew accustomed to during lulls in the action. Arron remained fatigued after his exertion in dragon form and his previous ordeal, but his worry for Nera prevented him from relaxing enough to rest. He had mentioned earlier that without consuming sufficient food to provide energy in dragon form, he quickly tired out.

  “How is she?” Wyat asked when Idrimel joined them.

  She related what she had told Malek. “She is in the hands of her goddess now, it would seem.” She glanced over at Nera and saw that Malek had fallen asleep beside her again.

  “Well, I sure hope she sets her free… and soon,” Arron said quietly, a strange look in his green eyes.

  The others looked at him questioningly, but he said no more.

  Arron’s and Nera’s fates are bound together, each with its own secrets. Now if the gods, Sol or Sabyl or whoever, would only give us a sign… We could truly use their aid in this darkest hour.

  Chapter 22

  “I am pleased by your decision, Daughter.” Warmth and love radiated from Sabyl, a feeling Nera had dreamed of knowing ever since she was a child and could first remember. “Watch now, for there is one more thing I would show you.”

  The temple of the night blurred and washed away like a painting left out in the rain. Nera stood watching a group of people, beautiful and glorious all, gathered before a great arching portal. Instinctively, she knew she was observing Sabyl’s fellow gods through the goddess’s eyes. Most were gathered, s
ave Sol and Shaol, who in their foolish contest had sat by and allowed the Planar War to spiral out of control. Sabyl’s brothers and sisters had formed this alliance against them, seeking to contain the damage of the war.

  “In our folly, we created this portal, along with others, which we know now should never have been used. This was the spawning point for the legions of the Abyss to spew forth their evil across all the multiverse.” The speaker had the aspect of a wise old man, for he was known as the Sage, god of wisdom, lore, and magic.

  “Now that the Nexus of the Planes aligns the multiverse, this dangerous portal must be deactivated, never to be used again,” the Sage intoned. He waved his hands, and an opaque sphere of swirling colors formed overhead, preventing any observation or scrying. “It shall be rendered inert. Shaol himself shall not know the necessary words to restore it. Marakesh, will you make is so?”

  Marakesh, the god of industry and arts, stepped forth. His aspect was much like a blacksmith wearing a leather apron, his powerful arms left bare. He withdrew a massive hammer hanging from his belt. With mighty strokes, he struck each side of the arch in turn. When his hammer impacted the Abyssal iron, the structure resonated with a deep, baritone reverberation, like a struck gong. The ground trembled beneath it, stone splitting and sending pebbles dancing across the earth.

  Runes on the arch lit up in sequence, flickering faster and faster until glyphs over the entire portal flared and subsided in rapid sequence.

  “Uth suahu su zazus san suu. Nuus ri’ass suhr zassi’as azur i’aphi’auhr, ra il nil zassr uh irni’ahu uhs.” Marakesh’s deep voice accompanied the rumbling reverberation, ending in a dramatic crescendo.

  The great portal vibrated with a loud humming that could be felt within one’s very bones, as if it would shake itself to pieces. Then, the arch began to disassemble, blocks of iron sliding apart and rearranging themselves, runes reordering until with a loud boom, the magic was expelled from the portal. The ground buckled and sank into a vast depression as the magic dissipated into the cursed ground beneath their feet.

  And then it was done. The Abyssal portal was no more than a metal arch, inert and unusable.

  The scene faded away, and Nera felt herself drifting away on soft wings into the stillness of sleep. “Remember this well, Daughter, and return now to your companions. They need you, as you need them. Fare thee well.”

  ***

  Nera slowly opened her eyes, gummy from sleep, to find Malek gazing down at her. She was lying beside the mage, a rolled-up cloak for her pillow. Achronia’s sickly red sky spread overhead, and lightning crackled in the soot clouds cast from the volcanoes in the distance.

  “You’re back with us! Gods, I had thought you dead.” Malek squeezed Nera’s hand and then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

  “I was with the goddess Sabyl, mageling,” she replied. She reached up with her left hand, meaning to touch his face, but frowned when she saw the stump of her arm. The wound had been closed just above where her wrist had been.

  Seeing her glance, Malek said, “Jannik tried to save it, but his god’s powers are weaker here. He did save you from dying, however.”

  “And I am grateful to him for that.” After releasing Malek’s hand, she pulled his head down and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “I’m glad your face is the first I see when I wake.” She smiled and touched his cheek.

  He helped her sit up. When she looked around, she was pleasantly shocked to find Arron, Wyat, Endira, and Idrimel back among them once again.

  Her friends rushed over when they saw she was conscious again.

  “Gods, I thought I’d lost each of you!” She was swallowed up in embraces from each of them.

  “We feared the same of you,” Wyat replied, a tear in his eye, which he surreptitiously wiped away.

  “The gods have brought us back together again to finish what we started,” Idrimel said with conviction.

  “But how?” Endira asked. “From what Yosrick told us, the quest has failed, has it not?”

  Nera tried to get to her feet but was weak and dizzy. Malek and Arron helped her up. She saw Yosrick, Waresh, and Rand were the only others who remained of their fellowship, all fast asleep. “Our attempts to recruit the Engineer to our cause failed when he betrayed us. And due to my own foolishness.”

  “You couldn’t have known—” Malek started.

  She waved him off. “There’s no time for my self-pity now. I must bear the burden of guilt for those whose lives were lost. But, as I was saying, though he betrayed us, the end goal is the same yet even more difficult now.”

  “You mean to confront the Engineer back in Nexus, where he has gone to launch a war,” Malek said.

  “Aye. Sabyl has revealed my birthright—I am born of the goddess herself and the Engineer.” The words hung there for a long moment.

  Arron was the only one who didn’t look shocked. Instead, he grinned fiercely. “Did she reveal all, Nera?”

  “She revealed enough, Brother.” She watched a strange light in his eyes as he stared at her, and she guessed he had come to some realization of his own recently.

  He looked slightly disappointed and nodded. “Then you will be needing our help for a time longer.”

  Nera clasped his arm. “’Course I’ll need all of your help still. I won’t come into my own until we return to Nexus.”

  “Then we’ve some more traveling to do,” Wyat said with a sigh. “Where to, then?”

  “I’ve an idea, but first, I think we should rest up. Nobody is any use if they are dead on their feet.” She glanced over in amusement at the snoring dwarf. “In the meantime, we should exchange tales till sleep comes. First, though, I wouldn’t decline a bit of wine and some rations.” She scowled when she saw her wineskin had been slashed open, its contents drained during her battle with Nesnys.

  Wyat quickly offered up his own wineskin, and she thanked him. They sat down in a circle to eat and drink and share their tales.

  Nera briefly wondered if her half sister had perished from her wound. She hoped so, for the thought of facing her once again didn’t appeal to her. Her stump pained her, as if needles were being driven into her hand, though it was no longer there.

  Although the thought of being permanently crippled had little appeal, she supposed she should be grateful that she had escaped with her life.

  That would have to do.

  ***

  “Do not think me ungrateful, Neratiri. I have given you a piece of knowledge as payment…”

  Nera awoke, the words of her bastard of a father in her head. She sat up, feeling much better than she had prior to resting. Unsure of how much time had passed, since there appeared to be no nighttime in Achronia, she looked around curiously.

  “Oi, the fiendling is awake!” Waresh stumped over and clapped her on the back so hard it nearly knocked her teeth loose.

  She grinned at the dwarf in spite of herself.

  “Good to see ya, lass!” Yosrick came and gave her a quick embrace.

  Rand approached more shyly, simply clasping her hand in greeting.

  “Good to see you all again, my friends. I thank you for your courage in carrying me and keeping me safe from those krabuk buggers. The bards will have to write a ballad to your heroism.”

  Waresh beamed while the other two looked slightly embarrassed.

  “You would’ve done the same for us,” Rand said quietly.

  “I’d like to think that, but unless put in your shoes, one never knows. I just mourn for those who’ve fallen along the way.”

  She assumed the three had been roused to take watch, for the others were sleeping, although they had begun to stir upon hearing their conversation.

  Nera got to her feet and stretched her back. She went to sweep her untidy hair behind her ear but frowned when she saw her stump again. The words of her father echoed in her head again.

  A piece of knowledge as payment. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts, investigating a place within her mind
that she sensed had recently become illuminated. The thought of her father’s and sister’s wings was making her wonder.

  “Nera, what is it?” Yosrick asked.

  “I have an idea.” She walked a short distance away, aware of everyone watching her.

  Ignoring her friends, she reached out with her senses, somehow feeling the presence of minerals within the blasted ground beneath her feet. Corrupted earth magic imbued the ground and air around them. The unique glimmer of Abyssal iron, which she knew had been fashioned into the Engineer’s and Nesnys’s wings, was readily available to test out her idea.

  Concentrating, she raised her arms, imploring the metal ore to break its bonds with the other minerals in the ground. Someone gasped behind her, and she slowly opened her eyes.

  Thousands upon thousands of slivers of black metal ore were suspended in the air at waist-level in a circle around her, at a radius of about ten paces. The shards ranged in size from mere splinters to small nuggets worth ten times their weight in gold. She could sense her companions’ awe.

  Would’ve been a useful skill had the situation been different. I could accumulate wealth beyond my wildest dreams! Nera laughed to herself at the irony, for win or lose in their struggle, she would have no use for wealth any longer.

  She focused on the unique properties of the Abyssal iron, coaxing the pieces to bind together. The slivers coalesced into larger and larger pieces, glowing with power as she fused them into one with a thought. Soon, a large piece of unformed metal hung in the air before her. She extended the stump of her arm, and the metal pressed against it, hundreds of tiny needlelike shards piercing her flesh and hooking into it. She grimaced at the pain as it linked with her flesh and bone. The iron bonded seamlessly with her flesh, lengthening into the shape of a wrist and then a hand. Individual fingers followed, forming knuckles and joints. She even caused it to take on the shape of fingernails at the tips. And then it was finished. Her innate power, unlocked by the Engineer, had breathed life into her new hand, similar to a construct.