Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Read online

  BATTLE DAWN

  Book Three of the

  Chronicles of Arden

  Shiriluna Nott & SaJa H.

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  ‘BATTLE DAWN’

  Copyright 2016 by Shiriluna Nott

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, either physically or digitally, without the express written consent of the author. All characters are creations of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidence.

  Edited by Karen Robinson of INDIE Books Gone Wild

  Proofread by Jennifer Oberth of INDIE Books Gone Wild

  Cover Design by Dennis Frohlich

  In honor of the lives impacted by the tragedy at Pulse Orlando. For those who were lost. For those who were shattered. For those who are now afraid. Together, we are stronger than hate. Together, we are love. And love always wins.

  — Shiriluna Nott & SaJa H

  If you would like to receive notifications regarding upcoming releases in the Chronicles of Arden series, please sign up for Shiriluna Nott’s mailing list here.

  Links to other books in the Chronicles of Arden series:

  A Call to Arms: Book One

  Nightfall: Book Two

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Final Word

  Prologue

  A light breeze drifted through a window set high in the bedchamber, but it was neither the frosty air nor the sound of thin flax curtains brushing against the granite walls that roused him. An ominous feeling—a dark foreboding that something was amiss—tore his mind from the drowsy haze of slumber and set his heart pounding within his chest.

  Hasain Radek’s eyes slid open, and with no small effort, the young lord lifted his head to peer around his room. Moonlight flooded the chamber, illuminating the velvet canopy above and chasing the shadows from even the farthest corners of the room. The hour was late: the length of time just before dawn when Death itself seized the world and only with the climbing sun could life break free.

  Hasain rubbed his clammy arms as he sat up. The prostitute by his side shifted in her sleep but didn’t wake. Long tendrils of hair framed her naked body, and full, painted lips curled into a smile atop her placid face. Her presence did little to ward off the chill in Hasain’s bones and served only as a bitter reminder that his life was in ruins.

  The putrid stench of vomit infiltrated his nostrils and brought back hazy memories of the previous night, spent alone and drunken at some rundown tavern. Shameful heat scorched his cheeks. When had he returned here with the prostitute? A mark ago? Several marks ago? His mind, muddled by whiskey, couldn’t recall any of it. Then again, nothing in Hasain’s life made sense anymore. He’d become a wraith, a shadow of his former self, going through the daily motions without direction or purpose. Would he ever wake from the endless nightmare, or was it his fate to be trapped inside this miserable existence forever?

  “Enjoying the fineries in life, are you?”

  Hasain’s heart stopped. That voice—where had it come from? Was someone else here? Wide-eyed and trembling, he whirled around, trying to find the source of the intrusion. “Who–who’s there? Show yourself!”

  The silken lilt returned, caressing him as though it were an old friend. Hasain gasped and tried to pull away, but there was no escaping it. The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

  “You’re not at all what I was expecting, Radek’s heir. Lying with a whore—vomit puddled over the side of your bed like some common drunk. Were Rishi not already dead, he would surely die of shame to see you now.”

  The words pierced his heart like a knife. He reeled, rage and despair surging up to fill the gushing wound. “I know who you are! Father warned me about you.”

  Eloquent cadence dissolved into hard rasps and swelled to envelope the room. “Oh, he warned you, did he? And what did the dead king tell you of me?”

  Letting out a strangled cry, Hasain pulled the bedsheets tight to his chin but was too terrified to move further. He stole a glance toward the prostitute, and a shudder raced up his spine when he realized she hadn’t stirred. The whore remained completely motionless beside him, as if trapped by a spell, the sound of her shallow breaths the only indicator she was even alive.

  Frantic eyes darted around the room, but still Hasain couldn’t see the entity who had spoken. Yet in the dark recesses of his heart, he knew. He couldn’t hide from his fate anymore. At last, it was time to face the legacy of the red stone.

  Heart hammering in his chest, Hasain replied, “You’re him, aren’t you? The demon. Leviticus.”

  Sinister laughter rippled through the room, and then—

  The blood drained from Hasain’s face when movement near the window caught his eye. His first instinct was to tear his gaze away, but fear held him paralyzed, and he could do nothing but stare in horror as the creature materialized out of thin air before him.

  White fabric wrapped seamlessly around alabaster skin, cascading down a slender trunk until the silken material grazed the floor. Auburn locks fell over a sharp nose and fierce eyes. A pair of thin lips perched atop a smooth, pointed chin and were pulled tight into a wicked smile that even the long wisps of hair couldn’t fully conceal.

  Hasain pressed his back to the wall, feeling nauseated. What right did such a treacherous monster have to take the appearance of a human man?

  The room spun as the demon floated soundlessly across the stone floor, stopping not even an arm’s length from the foot of the bed. His silver eyes shone in the moonlight, hard, calculating gems.

  “I suppose he filled your heart with misgivings about the tormented creature trapped within the stone,” the demon hissed.

  Repulsion rose to gag Hasain as he watched in utter horror. The demon’s lips, they didn’t move when it spoke.

  “Did he tell you I’m a ruthless schemer who will stop at nothing to have my way?”

  Hasain recoiled further. “He said I’m not to trust you! And I don’t. I won’t listen to you. I won’t succumb to your lies.”

  A cunning leer flicked across the demon’s face. “Bold words, Hasain Radek, but how do you manage them? I can hear your frail, mortal heart hammering away as if to make a grand escape. Is there any of your father in you? You may look like him, but you reek of cowardice.”

  Hasain’s voice abandoned him. He longed to deny the accusations and proclaim his bravery. But it wasn’t true. The demon was right. Hasain wasn’t brave or noble like his father. Since the King’s death, Hasain’s life had spiraled out of control. He was no longer allowed inside the council room, and his privileges had been stripped away. His father’s grace wasn’t available to shield Hasain from the scorn of the royal councilors, men who had no place for the bastard son of the dead king. His name could grant little more than luxury now, and he’d bitterly resigned himself to the fate of a pampered nobody who would never again have any real influence. He was nothing.

  Hasain didn’t voice his despair, but his sullen eyes betrayed the anguish h
e felt inside.

  Leviticus descended, looming menacingly above the bed. “You understand the laws of the stone, do you not?”

  Hasain understood as well as he could. His father’s note had detailed at least the most basic principles of dealing with the stone and the prisoner within. Koal, Aodan, and the few others who knew of the demon’s existence could also recount what Rishi had told them while he was still alive. None were experts on the matter, but at least Hasain wasn’t alone—whether he felt like it or not.

  Leviticus didn’t hesitate to press his point. “It’s a dark hour for your country. What’s your plan of action? Are you going to continue to drink away your youth and good health, or do you intend to do something?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. It will fall upon Deegan to rectify the actions of Arden’s steward.”

  “Ah, yes. That’s right. Despite being the eldest son, the mere fact that you’re a bastard prevents you from taking what should be your birthright.”

  Hasain locked his jaw, refusing to respond to the insult.

  “I can help you with that, you know. All of it. The loss of your privileges. The country being in the hands of a madman. You not being in line for the throne. Everything. I can make it all better. You only have to allow me. You only need ask.”

  Leviticus leaned precariously close, and Hasain scrambled to get away. In his panic, his elbow knocked into the prostitute’s shoulder. Still she didn’t stir.

  Hasain raised his chin defiantly, glaring at the demon. “I will never allow you to ruin me! My father was a wise man, and he told me to never listen to your lies!”

  Silver eyes flashed dangerously, two shards of lightning in the dark. “Your father was a fool. I came to him thrice on the day of his demise, and each time he rejected me. I could have pulled him from that deathbed and allowed him to continue his rule. But would he see reason? No! Rishi Radek’s pride and stubborn nature were his downfall. Are you going to be the same, Radek’s heir?”

  The bile at the back of Hasain’s throat made him want to retch. He wished the demon’s words were a lie. He longed to be able to say as much—but he couldn’t. They might well have been true. His father had always been stubborn to a fault. Had the King really had the chance to live on, only to deny the demon’s assistance and meet his demise? At what cost had Rishi Radek’s pride remained intact? And if he’d known what sort of doom he was leaving Arden to, would he have chosen differently? Wouldn’t it have been for the greater good to accept the demon’s help?

  Even with sinking doubt flooding him, Hasain managed to keep his voice level. “He must have had his reasons. He had great faith in Deegan.”

  Leviticus sneered. “As the eldest child, you received the stone and, therefore, the birthright to wield it. His faith should have been in you.”

  Hasain shivered. Eldest? Didn’t the demon know? Had Rishi somehow managed to keep Kieran a secret? Hasain tucked the information safely away in the back of his mind. Perhaps he could best the creature yet. “I never had reason to question my father’s faith in me. I wasn’t in line to be king, but he loved and nurtured me just the same. Be gone, demon. I have no use for you.”

  The unsettling smile that spread across Leviticus’ face made every hair on Hasain’s body stand on end. Again, the demon chortled. “With an imbecile on the dead king’s throne and a child prince who is years away from receiving his crown, do you really think things won’t get any worse? Fine. I suppose you must see for yourself. That is something you’ve inherited from your father. You know where to find me when you see your error.”

  And then he was gone. Hasain gasped. The demon hadn’t walked away, nor had he fled through the open window. No. He simply ceased to be there.

  Across the chamber, a flash of crimson flickered from atop a chestnut armoire. In the light of the waning moon, Hasain could see the red stone glowing through the keyhole of its box. A shiver ran up his spine as he leapt from his bed, careful to avoid the cold vomit, and raced to shove the shameful secret into a drawer. Maybe if he locked it away, it would be as if the demon had never come to him. He could go on pretending his life wasn’t spinning out of control and that his father wasn’t dead.

  Hasain retracted his hands from the drawer, exhaling with relief when he saw no further sign of the crimson light. Perhaps the entire night would prove to be nothing more than a nightmare.

  Somewhere behind him came the sound of rustling linens. The prostitute shifted in the bed, stirring from her entranced slumber. Hasain grew nauseated at the sight of her. He needed a bath. And fresh sheets. And someone needed to get her out of here before sunrise.

  He threw open the door of his armoire, reaching for a clean robe—and froze. The haunted, dark eyes of his father stared back from the depths of the closet, eerily silent, unmoving, and unyielding. Hasain tore his gaze away from the portrait. Like the red stone, he kept the painting locked away. He couldn’t stand to look at it. He couldn’t bear to gaze into his father’s eyes. Not while Hasain’s life was in such shambles. He slammed the armoire shut as bitter tears spilled down his cheeks.

  Unable to stay inside the bedchamber a moment longer, Hasain threw a robe around his shoulders and slipped into the hall. He’d get a servant to take care of the whore and another to prepare a bath for him. He couldn’t sleep now anyway.

  Chapter One

  Gibben Nemesio pressed his back to the wall to avoid being trampled. A pair of burly sentinels plowed through the corridor, armor-clad with swords swinging from their hips and looking as though they were marching off to battle.

  Not today, Gib thought, running fingers through the short, brown curls that crowned his head. But who knows what tomorrow will bring. We’ll all be facing war soon enough.

  Straightening the cloak around his shoulders, he peered once in each direction to ensure no additional soldiers were planning to barge through the narrow hall. The path seemed clear. As he stepped away from the wall, he heard the amused voice of his younger brother.

  “You know,” Calisto remarked in a reminiscent tone. “You’d think they would’ve had the insight to make this hall a little wider. I mean, this is the main passageway inside the barracks, after all. How do they expect an entire army to squeeze through the corridor all at once?”

  Gib glanced briefly over his shoulder. “We just came on a bad day. Everyone’s in a frenzy, getting ready to leave.”

  The sound of quickening footfalls met Gib’s ears, and a moment later, Cal appeared. “You don’t think Liza left already, do you?”

  “Let’s hope not.” Gib nudged his brother in the ribs. “Come on. We don’t want to miss her. The Two know I’ll never be able to find her once the army mobilizes.”

  The brothers walked side by side until the corridor branched into opposite directions, leaving Gib to rack his memory for which path would take them toward Liza’s quarters.

  Daya, how can anyone navigate this place? The endless corridors and damn wooden walls all look the same!

  Of course, deep down Gib knew that wasn’t the case. He merely hadn’t spent enough time inside the barracks to know the difference.

  And be grateful for that, you lucky bastard. Had you not earned the favor of Seneschal Koal, this would be your home.

  “That way,” Cal said, pointing to the left.

  “How do you know?”

  Cal’s chestnut-brown eyes sparkled. “Look.” He motioned toward the wall. There, practically beneath Gib’s nose, an arrow had been sketched onto the faded wood with the words “Women’s Quarters” crudely written beside it. A toothy grin spread across Cal’s face. “Didn’t you learn how to read during any of the four years you attended Academy?”

  Gib choked back an exasperated laugh. “Oh, hush. I have the right to be out of sorts. Here I am, lost inside the barracks of Silver City like some kind of dolt.”

  “Do you think getting lost would be a valid excuse for you not to go to war?”

  “It would certainly send Koal into a tizzy.” Gib c
huckled at the thought. “He’d probably order half the Ardenian army to go searching for me if I didn’t arrive.”

  Cal set a hand on Gib’s shoulder, his wide beam fading. “Are you sure you have to go?”

  “You know I do. It’s my duty. And besides, all my friends are going. And Seneschal Koal. I can’t abandon them.”

  “I wish I could go with you.”

  “No. You’re too young. King Rishi fought hard to preserve the lives of Arden’s youth. Had the old law not been overturned, you would have been forced to march. But now the High Council can’t demand a man fight until he reaches the age of sixteen.”

  Cal’s jaw stiffened. “They wouldn’t have to force me to march, Gib. I could volunteer.”

  “Absolutely not. Your job is to stay here. Be a student. Learn all you can. With any hope, this war will be done by the first snowfall. I’m going because I must. Liza’s going because she must. You and Tay have to hold down things here while we’re gone, okay?”

  Cal hung his head. “Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to help.”

  “You can help by staying where it’s safe.” Gib placed one hand onto Cal’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Just knowing that you and Tay are protected here in Silver will give me peace of mind when I’m out there. Now, come on. Let’s keep moving. We have to find Liza.”

  Determined to drop the conversation altogether, Gib focused his attention on the task at hand. Again, he read the sign Cal had pointed out.

  All right. To the women’s quarters. Since General Morathi insists on segregating women soldiers like they’re infected with the plague. Chhaya’s bane.

  Gib had taken only a single step forward when a tall, dark-haired soldier rounded the corner and the two of them nearly collided. Gib tried to jump out of the way but was a second too slow. He could hear the man let out a testy sigh when the path was momentarily blocked.