Skyfell, Valtara
Year 3068, after Doom
DAYNE LEANED FORWARD, RESTING his arms on the smooth stone ledge. The wind swept a chill across his exposed skin as he looked out at a sky full of wyverns. Wingbeats blended with the whistling rushes of air as the regal creatures swooped past the keep of Redstone and down the cliff face, twisting and turning effortlessly. In the distance, the remnant glow of the setting sun receded past the horizon, shimmering off the wyverns' polished scales and casting the Antigan Ocean in a deep orange hue.
Pulling his eyes from the scene, Dayne looked at his little sister, Alina, who sat on the ledge, her feet dangling, her eyes wide and jaw slackened. She absently played with the sapphire pendant that hung from her neck.
"That'll be me one day," Alina said, not taking her eyes from the wyverns. "I'll be a wyvern rider. Just like mother. You will too, Mera."
Dayne shifted his gaze to Mera, who stood on Alina's other side, a broad smile on her face, her hand clasped to the back of Alina's robes. The sides of Mera's head were shaved, her long brown hair tied into a plait, her blue eyes glistening in the incandescent light of the sinking sun. She was beautiful, though she never liked when he called her that. But that didn't stop him from thinking it.
After a few moments, Mera looked up, catching Dayne's eye, her smile turning to laughter.
"What?" Alina turned her head back and forth between Mera and Dayne, a touch of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny?"
Dayne forced down a laugh at the scowl etched into his little sister's face. She may have only seen twelve summers, but she had the ferocity of a seasoned warrior. He reached out and ruffled the hair at the back of Alina's head, much to her irritation. "Nothing, Alina," he said, shaking his head. "There is not a doubt in my mind that you will be the greatest wyvern rider who ever lived."
Alina narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, her scowl intensifying as though she were trying to determine if Dayne was lying. Then, as though satisfied with his answer, she let out a slight hmmph, turning her gaze back to the wyverns, her eyes flitting to and fro as she traced the creatures' movements in the sky.
Catching Mera's eye, Dayne shook his head and rolled his eyes. The soft smile he received in return set a warmth in his bones.
They stood in Dayne's father's study for what felt like hours, gazing out the wide window, watching as the orange glow faded as it was replaced by the silvery wash of the full moon, its cold light glittering off the ocean below. And Dayne would have stood there even longer had he not heard the sound of the door opening behind them.
"Alina Ateres. Is it not long past your bedtime, young lady?" Dayne recognised his father's voice even before he turned to see the tall, wiry man stepping through the doorway behind them, arms crossed.
As though ignoring their father, Alina continued to stare at the ocean. She tilted her chin slightly higher in defiance, folding her arms across her chest. The sight of it nearly caused Dayne to break out in another fit of laughter.
"Alina?"
"Dayne said—" Alina didn't get the chance to finish her sentence as Arkin Ateres tucked his hands beneath her armpits and hoisted her up, tossing her slightly and spinning her so she faced him.
"What did Dayne say?" Arkin raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on Alina as she dangled in front of him, daring her to lie.
"He said I could stay up to watch the sunset," Alina answered, trying in vain to re-fold her arms across her chest. Dayne recognised the familiar stubborn glint in her eyes. "And the wyverns."
"Oh, did he now?" Arkin pulled Alina into his chest, allowing his daughter's arms to loop around his neck and her legs to wrap around his torso.
Dayne shrugged, shaking his head. "She just kept asking… and asking… and asking. It was less trouble to just say yes."
Arkin laughed, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Alina, who now clung to him like a monkey, her expression the image of innocence. "Is that so? Only twelve summers and you already have your brothers wrapped around your fingers. You take after your mother." Shifting Alina to his left, Arkin turned to look at Mera. "And your part in all of this, Mera?"
"I was only ensuring that neither of them got into any trouble, my lord." Mera bowed slightly at the waist.
"Enough of that," Arkin said, frowning, waving his hand at Mera. "Go bow at some old man who begs it of you."
Without a moment's hesitation, Mera dipped her shoulders once more, the slightest beginnings of a grin touching the corners of her mouth. "Of course, my lord. As you wish."
Arkin furrowed his brow and lowered Alina to the ground. "If you're quite done. Could you please take Alina to her chambers? The sunset has been and gone. I will ensure she awakes in time to see it rise. Right now, I could use a word with my son."
Alina made to argue, but one look from Arkin let her know it was better not to.
"Of course, my lord." Mera nodded her head, then moved towards Dayne, pulling him into a brief embrace and whispering in his ear. "I'll still be awake when you're finished."
Dayne's pulse quickened, his mouth instantly turning as dry as sand.
When Mera pulled away, she kept her eyes locked on Dayne's before taking Alina's hand and leading her past the heavy wooden desk and the three soft couches in the middle of the study, closing the doors behind them.
"I like her," Arkin said, walking past Dayne and leaning on the window ledge. "She's got spirit. And she's got heart."
Silence filled the air as Dayne rested his elbows on the ledge beside his father, staring out at the ocean. Only the crashing waves and the occasional gusts of wind as wyverns swept across the rock face dared interrupt the absence of sound.
"It will begin in three days' time." Arkin didn't turn to look at Dayne. Instead, he simply stared out at the horizon, exhaling deeply through his nostrils.
"So soon?" Dayne could do nothing to hide his surprise. He knew the rebellion was close, but he had thought weeks, not days. His fingers tapped involuntarily against the stone ledge. "We're not ready. We need more time."
"We will always want for time, Dayne. That is the human way. We would die waiting for the perfect moment that will never come. There is only now. We have spoken to the others, and they have agreed. Houses Thebal, Deringal, and Herak will support us. Vakira and Koraklon will wait and likely choose the winning side. Your mother is arranging the last pieces. She is at Stormwatch now, meeting with the fleet captains. We will not make the same mistakes as those before us. We will take back Valtara, fortify the Hot Gates, and rip the Lorian ships from the ocean. We will be free, my son. I promise."
Dayne didn't speak. He simply nodded, turning his gaze towards the crashing waves hundreds of feet below. Once they started this, there would be no going back. The Lorian Empire had let Valtara live after the first rebellion, but if they failed a second time… Alina's face flashed through Dayne's mind. Her laugh, her smile, her joy. She had only seen twelve summers, and Baren only eighteen. He would not let them to grow up with a Lorian boot on their necks. Dayne had only seen two more summers than Baren, but Baren was still his little brother. Dayne's jaw clenched as he thought of the brother he had never met – Owain. The brother the empire had taken as tribute, just as they did to every first-born male in Valtara since the last rebellion. He would not let that happen to his children, nor Alina's, nor Baren's. He would rather die fighting for his freedom than live in chains. "I'm ready."
"I know you are, my son." Arkin rested a hand on Dayne's shoulder. "And it will be an honour to fight by your side."
"By blade and by blood."
"By blade and by blood," Arkin repeated. "You should get some sleep. You will not get many good nights once this begins."
Dayne nodded absently, resting his hand atop his father's. "I will, shortly."
Arkin took Dayne's face into his hands and planted a kiss on Dayne's forehead before pulling him into an embrace so tight he felt his bones creak. "I love you, Dayne… All four of you." Arkin pulled away before resting his forehead against Dayne's and locking their gazes.
"We know, Father. And we love you too. I am proud to be of House Ateres, proud to bear the sigil of the wyvern."
A weak smile touched Arkin's lips, and he pulled Dayne into an embrace once more, then made for the door without another word.
Dayne watched his father leave before turning back towards the window, resting his hands on the ledge until his heart settled to a slow, methodical thump. With one last look over the silver-painted ocean waves, Dayne turned and left.
The corridors of Redstone were empty save for the occasional patrol of the Redstone guard and the odd servant finishing up the last of their daily tasks. The flickering flames of oil lamps illuminated the red stone walls and floors, casting criss-cross shadows where the light was broken by long stretches of fluted columns.
There was little Dayne could do to keep the smile from his face as he made his way to Mera's chambers. He was almost there when he was hit by a sudden realisation. Letting out a sigh, he stopped. "I should check on Alina…" The nights he didn't check on Alina and plant a kiss on her forehead always led to him having to face the wrath of her tiny fists the next morning. She was small, but fierce. "Gods damn it."
Dayne turned on his heels, picking up his pace. He took a right, then a left at the end of the corridor, left again, then descended the flight of stairs beside the library door, following the walkway across to the other side of the keep. He was almost at Alina's chambers when he heard the knocking.
Knock. Knock.
"My lady Alina. Your father calls for you."
Dayne froze. That voice was not Valtaran. It was close, as though it had been practised meticulously, but there was something off about it. What's more, if Dayne's father had wanted Alina, he would have come to her himself. Dayne pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner.
Two guards stood outside the thick wooden doors of Alina's chambers, a man and a woman. Each wore the bronzed cuirass and burnt orange skirts of the Redstone guard, along with a pair of greaves and a bronze helmet in the typical Valtaran style – covering most of their face, with almond-shaped slits for eyes and a thin opening that dropped sharply from their nose to the base of the helmet. They each held the circular ordo shield in their left hand with a long ash wood valyna gripped tightly in their right.
Through the helmets, Dayne couldn't get a look at their faces, but he knew one thing: they were not Redstone guard. Their accents would have been enough, but their forearms were bare. They held no markings of the spear or the sword. Dayne glanced down at his own forearms. Two circles of black ink wrapped around both his left and his right. Right for the spear, left for the blade. No man nor women was permitted into the Redstone guard without at least two markings in either the spear or the blade.
Dayne patted his hip, realising he had no weapons with him, not even so much as a knife.
"Lady Alina?" The woman rapped her knuckles on the wood, harder. Her voice growing colder, firmer.
A few moments of silence were followed by a creaking sound as one of the doors began to open. "Father? But it's so late?"
Dayne's chest emptied. "Alina, no! Close the door!"
He charged, his heart galloping like a horse, his chest trembling. Whatever these imposters wanted with Alina, they would have to climb over his bloody corpse before he would let them touch a hair on her head. No sounds reached his ears save for that of his blood rushing through his veins and his feet slapping against the stone.
His shout had alerted the two imposters to his presence, but they hadn't turned fast enough to stop him. Dayne focused on the man who stood to the right, a look of surprise painted on his face.
Dropping his shoulder, Dayne crashed into the man, connecting with the bronze cuirass with such force it sent a shudder through his body. This was what he imagined it would feel like to collide with a tree trunk. But unlike a tree, this man did not have roots. The sheer strength of Dayne's charge lifted the stranger off his feet, and they both crashed into the wooden doors and through, into Alina's chambers.
The imposter hit the ground first, sending a tremor through Dayne's arms. But the man recovered faster, catching Dayne across the jaw with a quick fist. Panic. That was the only thing that flooded through his veins. Stars and sunspots flitted across his eyes, and his sense of balance shifted. The man tried to throw another fist, but Dayne swung his elbow and caught the imposter in the jaw. Crack. His head bounced back against the stone.
His body trembling, Dayne punched down with all his strength, slamming his closed fist into the man's windpipe. Then again, and again. Another crack and the imposter clasped his hands to his throat, a gurgling noise escaping, blood spluttering over his lips.
Frantically, Dayne searched for a weapon, scanning the man's body. His fingers fell on the pommel of a sword, still sitting in a sheath strapped to the man's waist. But as Dayne went to yank the sword free, a noise to his left reminded him of the other imposter. He threw himself to the ground, howling as a spear tip sliced through the skin at the side of his neck. Had he moved even a fraction of a second slower, that tip would have plunged straight through, and he would be dining in Achyron's halls.
Dayne rolled as he hit the ground, scrambling to his feet, his lungs burning, blood trickling from the cut on his neck. "Alina, get behind me!"
Alina shrieked as Dayne reached out, pulling her in and shoving her behind him.
"Get back," he roared at Alina, pushing her backwards blindly, not daring to pull his eyes from the woman who stood before them. She was just shy of six feet, with a lean muscular build. The light of the oil lanterns glimmered off her bronzed cuirass, her ordo shield hefted in her left hand, her spear gripped in her fist. She moved like a predator, her eyes narrowed, her knees bent, each step slow and purposeful. She may not have been a Valtaran, but this woman knew death.
"This doesn't have to be difficult," the woman said as she circled to the left, her muscles tensed, her gaze fixed on Dayne's, poised to strike. "I'm not here to kill either of you. I'm here to keep you safe. You need not be part of the bloodshed that is to come."
Dayne said nothing. He didn't dare blink. His heart thumped in his ears. He reached back with his right hand, feeling his fingertips brush the top of Alina's head.
"I won't let her touch you," he whispered, trying his best to reassure his little sister. He would die before he let that woman lay a hand on Alina.
"Dayne, who is she?" A tremble held Alina's voice, sneaking into her words. "I'm scared."
The woman took a step forward.
Dayne took a step back, using his fingertips to push Alina back with him. He met the woman's stare. "I won't let you."
"So be it," the woman replied, her voice deepening into an irritated growl. "I don't have time for this. They only need one of you. Die well."
As the woman stepped forward, raising her spear, Dayne's eyes fell to the man on the ground. He was dead, his arms now sprawled, blood coating his mouth and face. His spear and shield lay beside him, his sword still in its sheath.
The woman lunged, extending her spear, the blade slicing through the air. Dayne reached back and pushed Alina to the ground before dipping out of the way, gasping as the spear sliced across his right shoulder, grazing the bone. He dove towards the ground, rolling as he hit the stone. Rising back to his feet, he slipped his arm through the leather fastening of the dead man's shield, wrapping his fingers around the handle at the edge. More by instinct than anything else, he swung the shield across himself, a dull vibration running through the overlapping bronze and wood as the woman's spear bounced away harmlessly.
Reaching down, Dayne grasped the shaft of the dead man's spear with his free hand, feeling the familiar touch of the smooth ash wood against his palm. Howling, he thrust at the woman's legs just above her grieves. She cried out as steel bit flesh, the spear tip cutting through the side of her leg, just below the knee.
Holding back his fear, Dayne pushed forward, lifting himself upright and ramming his shield into the woman's, attempting to catch her off balance. But she had regained her composure far quicker than he had hoped.
They exchanged blows back and forth, testing each other. Dayne had trained every day from the time he had seen his eighth summer. He knew these weapons like he knew himself. But he had never killed someone with them. He had not lived through a war.
Dayne had sparred thousands of times. He could move through the forms in his sleep, but this was different. One of them would die here.
A scream ripped through the chamber. Dayne dared not take his eyes from his opponent, but the light of the lanterns illuminated a flash and a glint of steel. "Alina, no!"
Alina continued to scream as she rammed the knife into the woman's back. She attempted to yank it free, but the woman swept her shield around, leaving Alina in a heap on the ground, groaning as she attempted to pull herself back to her feet.
Fire roared through Dayne's body as he charged, forgoing all sense of self-preservation. He bashed his shield against the woman's, sending her stumbling backward, but as he raised his spear arm, she pivoted and cracked the butt of her spear into the side of his head, sending him stumbling. His balance deserting him, his fingers released their grip on the spear which clattered to the floor. The woman planted her foot on his shield and kicked down hard. Dazed from the blow to his head, he had loosened his grip on the shield and only the leather arm strap was holding it in place. The rim cracked off his nose, and his vision exploded in blinding light. He collapsed to the ground, blood filling his nostrils, the woman's spear tip pressed against his neck.
"This is your last chance," she said, her hand unwavering as the steel of the spear pressed against Dayne's neck. "Don't make me take any more lives than I have to."
Instinctively, Dayne reached out to the Spark, feeling the elemental strands pulsate through the fabric of the world, radiating power. He let the energy surge through him, his mother's words echoing in his mind. Nobody can know what you can do.Nobody, Dayne. If the empire finds out you can touch the Spark, they will drag you from these walls kicking and screaming. They will either kill you or train you to kill your own.Even as the words filled his head, Dayne pulled on threads of Air. He had no choice.
The sound of footsteps filled Dayne's ears, and the woman spun, sweeping her spear through the air, the shaft colliding with another as a soldier charged through the doors of the room. The newcomer swept the woman aside, driving his spear through her gut. Before she could do so much as scream, he pulled his sword free from its sheath, cleaving her spear arm at the elbow and driving the blade through her exposed throat. The woman collapsed in a clatter of metal on stone, gasping for air, her blood seeping out onto the floor like spilt wine.
His entire body trembling, Dayne pulled his eyes from the floundering woman and looked towards the soldier who had saved him. Four rings on each arm, bisected by a black line. A blademaster and a spearmaster both. Even in Valtara that was rare.
The man dropped to one knee and pulled his closed fist across his chest. "My lord Ateres, your father sent me to find you. We must go now."
Relief seeped into Dayne's bones as he recognised his saviour: Marlin Arkon, Steward of House Ateres.
"You took your time." Dayne released his grip on the handle of his shield and pulled his hand free, the shield clattering to the ground. He brought his hand to the side of his head, feeling the blood tack against his skin. "My father, where is he? What is happening?"
"He went to rouse the men. Someone has betrayed us. The empire has assaulted the keep, I—"
Marlin was cut short by the sound of Alina's voice as she crashed into Dayne, wrapping her arms around him, sobbing. "Dayne, what's happening? Are you all right? Where's Mother and Father?"
"I'm all right, little monkey." Dayne gritted his teeth as he spoke, his wounds burning, his head throbbing. "Everything will be all right." Dayne closed his eyes and leaned his head into Alina's, trying as best he could to reassure her. Peeling open his eyes, he picked up his shield once more and turned his attention back to Marlin. "Where is Baren?"
"I sent some of the guards to protect your brother. They should have reached him about the same time I reached you."
"We need to get to him. I need to know he is all right."
Dayne's heart slowed to a steady beat as they ran down the corridor towards Baren's chambers.
"Dayne! Alina!"
Relief flooded through Dayne at the sound of his brother's voice. Ahead, Baren and three Redstone guards were sprinting down the corridor towards Dayne, Alina, and Marlin. Baren scooped Alina up in one arm as he reached them, before pulling Dayne in close. "You're both all right. Thank the gods." Baren held the embrace for a few moments before letting Alina down and turning back to Dayne. "What is happening? Two guards came to my quarters. They said Father wanted to see me. They wore the armour of the Redstone guard, but they were no Valtarans."
"Somebody has betrayed us," Dayne replied. "The empire knows about the rebellion."
"Who would do that? Why would—"
"It doesn't matter who or why, not now. You need to take Alina and go with Marlin to father's office. Take the passage down to the cliffs and get out of the city. There is a small cave at the very base of the cliff's edge. Go there and wait."
Baren's eyes widened. "I'm not running, Dayne! I can help."
"I know you can," Dayne said, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But there is more than one way to help. I don't want you to run – I want you to get Alina somewhere safe, to protect our sister. What if something were to happen to her?"
"I can help too!" came a defiant squeak.
Dayne smiled as he looked down to find Alina glaring back at him, her eyes narrowed. She had as much heart as any soldier he knew. She would make a fine warrior one day. "Not today, little monkey."
An irritated grunt was her only reply.
"I need you to protect her," Dayne said, turning his attention back to Baren.
For a moment, Dayne thought his brother might argue. But then, without letting his stare waver, Baren nodded. "What will you do?"
"I will find Father and Mother. We will drive the empire back, then I will come and find you."
Baren nodded once more, then knelt beside Alina, whispering in her ear as she sobbed.
Dragging his eyes from his siblings, Dayne turned to Marlin. "Marlin."
"Yes, my lord."
"Keep them safe."
"On my life."
"No." Dayne reached out, grasping Marlin's forearm. "I would very much prefer if you kept yourself safe as well."
The faintest hint of a smile touched the corner of Marlin's mouth. "I'll do what I can, my lord. At least take the guard with you," he said, gesturing to the three Redstone guards who had come with Baren.
Dayne nodded, indicating for the guards to come with him. He almost stumbled as Marlin pulled on his arm and dragged him into an embrace. "War is no different to peace. It is simply more honest. Do not hesitate, do not contemplate mercy. Remember everything I have taught you."
Dayne pulled Marlin in tighter until it felt as though his arms would give way. Along with Dayne's father, Marlin had been his mentor ever since he could first hold a sword. "I will remember, by blade and by blood."
"Go," Marlin said, pulling away. "I will keep them safe."
The shouts and cries of battle rose into the night as Dayne and the Redstone guards reached the balcony that overlooked the gardens of the keep. Below, a brownish-red flagstone pathway bisected the gardens, framed by rows of enormous orange trees; the vibrant colour of their fruit was striking against the green of the leaves. Near the centre of the garden, just over a hundred Valtaran warriors stood side by side, their ordo shields interlocked, bracing against the tide of imperial soldiers that flooded in through the open gates.
At any other time, the sight of imperial soldiers charging into the Redstone gardens would have set fear in Dayne's heart. But then, as he looked out over the fighting, fire burned in his veins. The empire must have hoped to take the keep while the garrison slept, taking Dayne and his siblings to use against their parents. But now, they stood against a wall of Valtaran shields. Not only that, but they stood against the finest warriors House Ateres had to offer: the Andurii.
Masters of both the blade and the spear, the Andurii were the beating heart of the Ateres army, and they were led by none other than Arkin Ateres himself.
Each of the Andurii were garbed in bronzed cuirasses of hardened steel, matching greaves and vambraces, crests of bone-white horse hair running from the front of their helmets to the back, cloaks of burnt-orange draped over their shoulders. Blades were strapped to each of their hips, thick-shafted valynas gripped in their fists, and the wyvern of House Ateres emblazoned across their shields.
The hairs along Dayne's arms stood on end, and fire burned brightly in his veins as he watched the imperial soldiers crashing against the Andurii shields, a trickling stream meeting a mountain. Except this mountain moved; slowly and precisely, it forced the intruders back towards the gates. Bodies fell with each step. Andurii spears from the second row found flesh and bone, while the first row held their shields with unwavering discipline, relentlessly pushing the imperial soldiers back. With a knot in his throat, Dayne looked to the far right of the Andurii formation, for that was where his father would be. The far right of a shield wall's front line was the most vulnerable link in the chain, and so that was where the most seasoned warrior took position. His father's voice echoed in his mind. A true leader, Dayne, leads by example, not by command.
A tingle ran from the nape of Dayne's neck all the way down his spine, every hair on his body standing on end. The sensation gave barely a second's warning before threads of Earth and Air streamed from somewhere within the imperial ranks. An Imperial Battlemage.
As soon as Dayne spotted the woman, blonde hair tied back with string, black cloak billowing behind her, the threads seeped into the ground beneath the Andurii lines. "No, Father—"
Men and women were thrown into the air as the ground beneath the Andurii erupted in a plume of earth and stone. The force of the blast was so violent, it tore trees from the ground, the walls trembled, and the air itself seemed to ripple.
Dayne doubled over, coughing and spluttering as his lungs dragged in the dirt that had been lifted into the air. Cries of agony rang out through the dust-occluded night, the empty groans of men and women who would soon be drawing their last breaths.
Releasing his shield, Dayne rubbed at his eyes, trying to rid them of the tacky mixture of dirt and sweat. But as his vision returned, his heart sank. The blast had ripped a hole through the Andurii lines and taken many of the imperial soldiers with them as well. Bodies lay broken: bones shattered, limbs twisted, armour crushed.
Only a handful of the Andurii had survived. They dragged themselves to their feet and formed a new shield wall, fifteen wide in the front line, twelve in the second. More imperial soldiers flooded through the gates, swarming around the woman wearing the flowing black cloak, washing over the bodies of the dead.
"My lord, are you hurt?" One of the Redstone guards rested a hand on Dayne's back. The man's face was coated in dirt, streaks of blood and sweat carving paths through the grime.
"Sound the bells!" Dayne shouted, pushing the guard away. "We need archers on the walls now. Tear those imperials to ribbons."
"Yes, my lord." The man's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, loss and anger rising within them. His jaw clenched, he nodded, then turned and sprinted back towards the keep.
Dayne turned to the remaining two guards beside him. "We need to shut those gates."
Gripping the shaft of his spear tighter, he made his way from the balcony to the connecting corridor and out onto the walls that ran along the western flank of the garden.
Just over thirty soldiers stood on the western wall between him and the gatehouse, the clang of steel-on-steel ringing through the night. It was absolute chaos. Each warrior wore the bronze cuirasses and burnt orange skirts of the Redstone guard, but they hacked and slashed at each other like rabid wolves. "Look at their markings!" Dayne bellowed to the two guards who charged with him. "The imposters do not bear Valtaran markings."
Dayne didn't get the chance to see if the guards had heard him. Two of the soldiers closest to him charged. Their arms were unmarked. Dayne held his breath for a moment, settling his fear. In a daze from the blast, he had left his shield where he had dropped it. The temptation to reach for the Spark was immense, but he subdued it.
Pulling his arm back, Dayne howled, launching his spear through the air, a blazing fire igniting within him. The spear caught one of the soldiers in the chest, the weight of the blow throwing him off balance, his screams echoing through the night as he fell from the wall.
The other soldier continued her charge, shield raised across her torso awkwardly, spear held underhand at her side. This soldier was not like the one who had come for Alina. She had been lethal. This soldier, however, wasn't used to holding Valtaran weapons. The ordo was nothing like the rectangular shields the imperial soldiers were accustomed to. It was made specifically for use in a Valtaran shield wall, though through years of training, could be wielded just as effectively in single combat. This woman had not had years of training.
She struck upward with the spear. Dayne dropped his left shoulder, wrapped both his hands around the shaft of the spear, and rammed his right shoulder into the woman's shield. As she stumbled backwards, Dayne yanked the spear free from her grip, pivoted, and pushed forward.
The woman staggered backwards, tripping over a body that lay limp on the rampart. Dayne leapt forward as she fell. He lifted his foot and slammed it down where her arm met her shoulder, hearing a violent snap as he pinned her arm against the rim of her shield, the bone cracking under the weight, breaking through skin, blood sluicing. The wail that left her mouth chilled Dayne's blood.
Dayne lifted his spear to her throat.
"No, no, please!"
Hesitation leads to lives lost. Marlin's words echoed in Dayne's mind.
"May The Mother embrace you." In one smooth motion, Dayne slid the tip of his spear into the woman's throat. The motion was swift, but the look in her eyes would be carved into his mind until time broke. Better to die quick.
Inch by inch, Dayne and the two Redstone guard fought their way along the western wall. Four more joined their side, but for every imperial soldier they killed, two emerged from the gatehouse, these ones garbed in the red and black leathers of the Lorian Empire.
Dayne glanced down at the gardens. Only fifteen Andurii still stood. They were clustered together, a slight bend in their line to help protect their flanks. Bodies littered the ground around them, twisted up in the branches of fallen trees, blood flowing freely. The Imperial Battlemage stood about twenty feet back, watching; she had played her part.
Pivoting, Dayne avoided a spear aimed at his gut, then drove the tip of his own valyna through his attacker's throat, letting the man stagger backwards off the ramparts.
The sonorous chime of bells resounded through the gardens, echoing off stone, ringing in Dayne's ears. Calls and shouts followed, more Redstone guard pouring from the keep, filling the balconies, charging onto the ramparts, nocking and loosing arrows as they moved. Within moments, steel rained down into the gardens, slicing through leather and sundering flesh. That will buy the Andurii more time. Only twelve Andurii still stood, clutches of Redstone guard standing at their flanks. Even with the archers' support, the Lorian tide would soon wash over them. He needed to close those gates.
Reluctantly, Dayne pulled his gaze back to what was in front of him. Imperial soldiers now clogged the walls, more charging onto the ramparts with each passing moment. Some wore the armour of the Redstone guard, but most were garbed in the red and black leathers of the Lorian Empire, sharp steel in their fists.
Six guards now stood by Dayne's side, wounded and bloody, but not broken. If he called for a shield wall, they would likely be able to push the soldiers back, crushing them against the weight of their own charge, forcing them off the edges of the ramparts. But if he did that, they would never reach the gatehouse in time; his father and the Andurii would be overrun, cut down like blades of grass. Nor could he simply carve his way through. Every Valtaran warrior was worth ten of the imperial soldiers, but there were simply too many. Fate, it seemed, had stripped his choice from him. "Forgive me, Mother."
Opening his mind, Dayne reached out to the Spark, feeling its power surge through him. He would not let his father die. Not when he had the power to save him. Dayne pulled on threads of Air, dragging them into himself, feeling their cool touch prickle at his skin. He pulled harder, welling the threads together, forming a ball. He needed to clear the Lorian soldiers from the wall.
A piercing shriek ripped through the night, its harsh echo lingering. The first shriek was answered by one or two more, then by fifteen or twenty, then hundreds, until the sound was the only thing Dayne could hear. Dayne's heart stopped, and he released his hold on the Spark. A defiant fire burned in his blood. He knew that sound.
Wyverns.
Flashes of colour whipped past the walls and burst free from the dark clouds above, gusts of wind following in their wake.
Screams and shouts rose from the gardens and the walls as dozens of winged creatures descended on the imperial forces, tearing through flesh, rending steel, and cleaving bone. The riders who sat astride the great beasts launched spears into the thick of bodies, splitting leather and spraying blood. Each of the wyverns was at least the size of a large war horse, armoured in scales of varying colours, thick forelimbs stretching into leathery wings, obsidian talons glistening in the moonlight.
Dayne watched as a large wyvern, scales of deep blue, crashed down in front of the Battlemage. The creature spread its wings wide, its lips pulling back in a snarl, its hulking frame looming over the woman. Dayne felt the mage reach for the Spark, threads of Fire and Air wheeling around her. But before she could unleash her devastation, the wyvern arched its neck and clamped its jaws around her torso, its razor-sharp teeth tearing through her armour as if it were made of clay. The woman let out a blood-chilling wail as the wyvern thrashed its head side to side, shredding her armour, ripping her flesh, spraying the air with her life's blood. Her screams rose above everything else, high-pitched and shrill, forcing all other sounds to yield. Dayne could feel the visceral pain in her cries, a shiver running through his body. He looked away, his stomach turning. And then it stopped. When Dayne looked back, the large wyvern had moved on, lifting itself into the air before dropping back down into a clutch of Lorian soldiers, claws swiping, tail snapping left and right.
The night took on an eerie stillness as Dayne looked out over the walls and the gardens, the sound of clashing steel and war cries replaced by crunching bone, weeping, and the soft melancholy groans of the dying. The imperial soldiers were in full retreat through the gates, leaving the dead and injured behind to meet The Mother. Even the walls were nearly empty. Crumpled heaps of flesh and twisted bone coated the battlements, barely recognisable from the men and women they had once been. Dayne had never seen the aftermath of a wyvern attack. The creatures were as merciless and savage as they were beautiful.
Swallowing the knot in his throat, Dayne stepped through the mess of mutilated bodies, forcing himself to look down at the faces of the dead, their eyes cold, devoid of life. He hoped he would never die that way.
Behind him, he could hear the thrusts of cold steel as the Redstone guard drove their spear tips into any poor unfortunate souls who had survived the wyverns. Sparing them the pain may have been the merciful thing to do, but Dayne couldn't stomach it again. He kept walking, making his way towards the staircase that led down to the gardens.
As Dayne stepped off the staircase that led from the ramparts, a massive wyvern descended into the gardens, spirals of dust lifting into the air with every wingbeat. The creature's scales were dark red, almost black, flecked with spots of gold at the edges. Its muscles rippled as it lowered itself and spread its wings, allowing its rider to step down onto solid ground. Dayne's feet carrying him forward, he kept his gaze locked on the rider and wyvern as they touched foreheads. Then, the rider removed her helmet and turned towards Dayne. What started as a tentative step quickly turned to a full sprint until Dayne and the woman collided, wrapping their arms around each other.
"My boy." Dayne's mother cupped his cheeks in her hands, pulling back, staring into his eyes, the most relieved of smiles spreading across her face. Once more she pulled him in close, whispering, "You're all right." She let out a sigh, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders, her voice softening. "You're all right…"
After what seemed like hours, Ilya Ateres stepped back, her hands clasping Dayne's shoulders. "Baren and Alina?"
"They're all right. Marlin took them through the passage at the back of father's study. He's keeping them safe."
Dayne's mother nodded, her tongue running across her lips as though she were contemplating something.
"Nice of you to arrive."
Both Dayne and his mother turned at the sound of Arkin Ateres's voice. Dayne's father wore the bronzed steel armour of the Andurii, the Wyvern of House Ateres emblazoned in white across his breastplate. Blood and dirt stained his skin and tacked his hair to his forehead, he limped heavily, favouring his right leg, and his arm was draped around the shoulder of another man who wore the armour of the Andurii – Savrin Vander, the Champion of House Ateres.
"Come here," Arkin said, lifting his arm from Savrin's shoulders and pulling Dayne and his mother into a tight embrace. He kissed Dayne's forehead before clasping his hand around the back of Ilya's neck. Dayne could hear him whisper, "I thought I had lost you."
"And I you," Ilya whispered back, the corner of her mouth rising in a weak smile that met a creeping tear.
"Your brother and sister?" An ocean of desperation filled his father's eyes.
"They're safe. They're with Marlin."
"You did well, my son." Dayne's father pulled away, grunting, his breath raspy. He swept his gaze over the blood-stained, corpse-filled gardens.
"They came for us in our chambers – Alina, Baren, and me. Were it not for Marlin, they would have succeeded."
"They came for you? Why would they come for our children?" Anger permeated Dayne's mother's voice, her hand falling to the sword at her hip.
Dayne's father turned back, resting his hand on Ilya's shoulder. "They seek to crush the rebellion while maintaining a hold on Valtara's future. If they control the heirs to the Houses, they control everything. There isn't much time. The empire learned of our plans and have moved more swiftly than we could have ever imagined. We need to push this advantage while we still have it. We need the full might of the House armoured and ready. We—"
A roar unlike anything Dayne had ever heard shook the air, rumbling like thunder. Every head in the garden turned towards the sky. What burst from the charcoal clouds set an implacable fear in Dayne's heart. A dragon so large it blotted out the light of the moon.
The creature plummeted to the ground at an impossible speed, keeping its enormous wings tucked at its side until the last moment. The dragon crashed down on top of Dayne's mother's wyvern, Thandril, its claws wrapping around Thandril's head and slamming him into the ground. The stone shook and oranges fell from the trees, splitting as they cracked against the blood-stained ground below. Thandril thrashed, struggling to break free from the enormous dragon's hold, screeching as the dragon's talons tore through his scales.
Dayne's mother screamed, a shriek that chilled the blood in his veins, as visceral as the mage's had been when she was torn apart.
"Ilya, no!" Dayne's father reached out but was too late to stop Dayne's mother from surging towards the dragon, her sword drawn. A mortal charging towards a god.
The creature lifted its head, muscle rippling beneath its powerful neck, the light of the moon revealing the dark brown colouring of its scales. It was only then that Dayne could truly see the sheer size of the monster. Its wings spread across the breadth of the garden. Its body stood over a hundred feet from head to tail. Ridges of horns framed its face and neck. Its teeth shone in the light of the moon, like swords of alabaster dripping crimson. A warrior sat on the creature's back, where the neck met the body, garbed in gleaming white plate, a black flame emblazoned across their breast. The Dragonguard.For a long moment, Dayne watched as his mother streaked across the courtyard, charging towards the beast. He watched as the dragon turned its head, and he watched as it craned its neck down and unleashed a column of fire.
Flames poured from the dragon's jaws like a raging river, consuming everything in their path, incinerating the air, turning skin to ash, melting steel. Screams rose and were snuffed out in an instant. Then, abruptly, before the flames reached Ilya, they flickered from existence as the dragon unleashed a monstrous roar, rearing onto its hind legs. In the light of the dying fire, Dayne could see Thandril raking his talons along the dragon's underbelly, slicing through its scales, blood spilling from long wounds.
Regaining its composure, the dragon slammed its claw back down onto Thandril's head, sending furrows snaking through the stone. The enormous beast clamped its jaws around Thandril's neck, its teeth cracking through the wyvern's scales.
In one powerful motion, the monstrous creature ripped Thandril's head free from his body, tossing it to the ground before unleashing a roar so visceral it shook the air. The brief flash of hope that had begun to kindle in Dayne's heart was snuffed out in an instant.
Mid-stride, Dayne's mother stopped, as though Thandril's death had severed a chord within her. She dropped to her knees, releasing her hold on her sword, letting the steel clatter against the stone.
"Ilya!" Dayne's father rushed past him, barely allowing his right leg to touch the ground with each stride, then dropped to Ilya's side.
"Lay down your weapons," a woman's voice boomed, echoing throughout the gardens, bouncing off the stone and clinging to the air. Dayne didn't have to look to know that it came from the warrior who sat astride the dragon. Threads of Air and Spirit whirled around her, amplifying her voice. "Lay them down now and I will not extinguish your bloodlines and burn this city to ash."
A series of roars rolled through the skies above like thunder. Dayne tilted his head to see streams of fire illuminating the charcoal clouds like cracks of orange lightning and the dark shapes of wyverns dropping from the sky. More dragons.
The dragon before them bent its forelimbs and leaned across Thandril's crumpled body, lowering its neck. Steadying herself with threads of Air, the warrior slid from the dragon's back, landing softly on her feet. "You have lost," the woman said, her voice all measure of calm. She continued forward until she was only a few feet from Dayne's mother and father, the blend of pale moonlight and the orange-red flicker of the dying flames around them shimmering off her white plate. "Arkin and Ilya Ateres. You are charged with plotting to destroy the peace and inciting rebellion." As the woman spoke, her dragon lifted its head into the air and spread its wings wide, blood dripping from its jaws, its eyes blazing orange.
"You will pay for what you have done," the woman continued. "But your children need not. Lay down your weapons now, and we will spare their lives. Do not, and I will drag the air from their lungs myself."
His arms still wrapped around Ilya, Arkin turned his head, his eyes red and welling with tears. He held Dayne's gaze, swallowed, then let his shoulders sag, his sword dropping to the ground with a clatter.