Daybreak (78 page)

The old mage’s eyes widened, and he cried out. “No! Oh, we’re too late! Move me quickly — please, we must hurry!”

“What is wrong?” Nadine said.

The old mage shook his head. “Devin was supposed to stay out of reach. He wasn’t supposed to come down. If the Forsaken One finds him … oh, I groan to think of it! Please,
please
we must hurry!”

*******

Kael knew he had to find Ulric — but he had no idea where the archmage might be.

Most of Midlan was deserted. He’d come across a band of soldiers every once in a while. But the moment he drew Daybreak, they’d tear off in the other direction. The hallways twisted and turned in unreliable patterns. He listened at every bend for the sound of a mage’s spell. He scanned the chambers as he jogged past, hoping for any sign that the archmage might be hiding within them.

He was halfway up a tower’s steps when the floor shook violently. Roars billowed up throughout the halls — and they were unmistakably familiar.

Kael forgot his task. He tore down the steps and sprinted in the direction he thought the roars had come from. No matter what Kyleigh said, he couldn’t leave her on her own. She was no match for Dorcha — and if the black dragon had fallen back to earth, he wouldn’t need to find Ulric.

Kael could end the battle, himself.

By the time he reached the end of the next hall, the roaring had stopped. His heart pounded inside his chest as several long, silent moments passed. Worry clenched his knees, but he forced himself to move. At last, he found a promising chamber.

What looked to be the last remaining company of Midlan stood before it. They slammed themselves against the towering doors, trying to force their way inside. Kael ripped Daybreak from its sheath and charged into their backs. A spout of white-hot flame cut the nearest men across their middles — the rest fled his path.

The door’s bolt melted beneath Daybreak’s flaming edge. Kael kicked them open — and marched straight for Dorcha.

The black dragon was crouched in the middle of an enormous chamber. The roof lay in a shattered mess all across the floor. Dawn light poured in from above. Dorcha had his back turned to the door. His deep, booming hum rattled the grit across the stone. His wings bent open slightly, and Kael thought he might be about to take off again.

He couldn’t let Dorcha leave. He couldn’t let him go after Kyleigh.
 

A storm of anger and fear erupted in Kael’s veins. The world blurred as he pounded for Dorcha with a cry.

An arc from Daybreak slapped against Dorcha’s back. When he flung his great body aside, Kael struck him across the chest. The shock of his wounds must’ve knocked him from his scales: Dorcha twisted in pain, roaring as he slid back into his human skin.

And Kael saw his chance.

He stepped over to where Dorcha lay and pressed a boot across his throat. He held Daybreak’s point above his chest, aiming over his heart. It was difficult not to notice the scales that burst through his human skin: they were raised taut, swollen painfully around fresh pools of blood. The collar around his neck was gone, melted. Its iron trail left shining lines across his shoulders. Ulric must already be dead. If that were true, then there was no need …

No. No, this is different
, Kael reminded himself.
Dorcha can’t be allowed to go free. He’s far too powerful. He’s far too dangerous
.

He met the halfdragon’s burning yellow eyes, hoping to find some proof within them. He wanted to find the cruelty he’d seen in Finks, or the wickedness of Earl Titus — some raging, unrepentant line of evil strong enough to send Daybreak through his chest …

But there was none.

Without the collar to madden his gaze, Dorcha stared up at him, defeated. His arms lay limply by his sides. A burning wound hissed across his chest — a mark of Daybreak’s fury. But though he must’ve been in pain, he didn’t show it. The look he wore was of a man who knew all of the horrible things he’d done, and who expected to pay for them.

Kael could’ve paid him back. He was an inch from ending him.

But at the last moment, a truth he’d once spoken struck him hard: Dorcha deserved a chance. Every creature deserved a chance. The fact that he was powerful shouldn’t have meant a blasted thing. At his heart, the halfdragon was no different than the mountain folk, or the King’s monsters. That’s what Kyleigh had been trying to tell him all along — Kael had just been too stubborn to listen.

If he killed Dorcha now, it would only be because he feared him … and that was no better than what Titus had done to the wildmen, or what Crevan had done to the whisperers. There was absolutely no good in it.

Kael stood upon the edge of villainy — and it was that bitter realization that drew his boot away, that sent Daybreak back into its sheath. Perhaps he was a fool for letting Dorcha live. Only time would tell.

But for now, he was giving him a chance.

“Where’s Kyleigh?” he said, turning his glare upon the hole in the ceiling. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Dorcha grabbed his leg …

No, it wasn’t Dorcha. The eyes that widened upon his were a pure, stark blue — the eyes of a draega. When he spoke, the panicked voice belonged to a young man:

“Please, help her! You have to help her!”

The world fell out from beneath him. He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember breathing. His eyes stayed glued to the back of the halfdragon’s head as he sprinted for the rubble in the middle of the room.

Tears streamed from the boy’s eyes as he crouched beside something in the ruins —

“Kyleigh!”

Kael fell down beside her and placed his hands against her wound: a horrible gash that tore down her side, shattered her armor, and ripped across her middle. Blood poured from it in a terrifying rush. The things beneath her flesh were traumatized, ravaged into splits.

It took everything in his power, every ounce of his will — but somehow, he managed to keep his hands from shaking. “Hold on, Kyleigh — I can fix this. Just breathe. Breathe for me, will you? Try to stay calm …”

Her hand gripped his, jarring him from his trance. He glanced up to tell her to be still, and instead … he saw something that crushed him.

The fires in her eyes were … fading. Already, they’d shrunk to a single spark — a frail, sputtering hiss of flame. They were so glassed in agony that he didn’t think she could see beyond her pain. But her fingers wrapped around him gently, calmly. There was an assurance in her touch that somehow carried the weight of a thousand mountains with it:

She was telling him she was ready. She was at peace …

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Don’t let go, Kyleigh — don’t you
dare
let go!”

Her mouth twitched slightly at his words — whether in a smile or a grimace, he would never know. Kael clung to the last remaining shred of light in her eyes.
 

It was a tiny, miserable thing — a flake of ash batted by the wind. But every piece of his flesh and every thread of his soul was bent upon it. The tiny ember seemed to call out to him as it fluttered off into the distance, into whatever cold, immeasurable depth of silence waited beyond the light …

And Kael plunged after it.

The strange trinkets shattered into pieces, all of the tapestries ripped from the walls. A horrible, monstrous windstorm blasted through the hall of Kyleigh’s mind — and at its end, a bright light awaited.

Kael stood untouched by the wind. All of the debris of her memories tore through him, as if he were made of smoke. The light at the end of the passage began to dim: a darkness dragged behind its fading reach, plunging the hallway into nothing.
 

He broke into a sprint — pounding his way across the cold stone floors, desperate to stay at the edge of the light. Kael sensed that if he fell behind and the darkness overtook him, he would lose his grip. He’d be spat into reality … and Kyleigh would slip beyond his reach.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

The warrior in him spurred his legs to a new, furious speed. His lungs burned, his body ached. Sweat drenched his back even as the light grew dimmer. The darkness was an ever-present force: it lunged for him, snapped at his heels. All of its grasping tendrils shrieked as they tried to drag him under.

But Kael would not be stopped.

He threw himself into the last remaining shred of light and shut his eyes against the world that awaited him beyond.
 

For a moment, he was weightless. Kael’s body hung inside the grip of a boundless, clear blue sky. There was a large track of barren land several miles beneath him, scorched brown by the fury of the sun.
 

All of the pieces of Kyleigh’s mind whipped away from him. They rode like leaves along the path of the wind. The storm gales carried them across the sky, over the barren land.

But Kael couldn’t feel the wind. Its power couldn’t touch him. Instead of following after Kyleigh, he began to fall.

He wasn’t sure how far he fell. The whole time his body plummeted through the sky, he kept his eyes on Kyleigh’s memories. They danced away until they finally disappeared into the line of the horizon — just as Kael struck the ground.

All of the wind left his lungs and his head snapped hard against the earth. A cloud of dust stung his eyes. He should’ve been dead. There was no way his body could’ve possibly stayed in one piece. But somehow, it had.

The sun hung high above him — an unblinking eye of the purest, most draining heat he’d ever felt. Not even the warmth inside the dragons’ mountain had tested him so fiercely.
 

When Kael tried to don his scales, his mind struck a wall. It was as if his powers had been swept away by the wind. He couldn’t remember how to conjure his armor. Where the memories ought to have been, there was nothing but a ragged, gaping hole.

He didn’t have time to worry over it. He couldn’t have cared less about having his powers. At that moment, there was only one task he could remember — and it consumed his every thought:

He had to find Kyleigh.

A range of mountains loomed behind him. They stretched from one end of the world to the next — impenetrable, save for a jagged pass that split the rock at his back. Kael stood so close to the mountains that he might’ve been able to touch them, had he reached out. But Kyleigh’s soul hadn’t gone into the mountains.

The land before him was as endless as the seas. Countless miles of cracked, sandy earth awaited him. But there, just along the edge of the far horizon, he saw a line of green.

There must’ve been a land beyond this one, a place where all the souls of men found their rest: the under-realm, the eternal woods — whatever world it was that stood along that line, Kael was determined to reach it. He was certain he’d find Kyleigh there.

So he set out.

The barren land was silent and still; the rhythm of Kael’s boots against the earth was the only noise for miles. His panting breaths scraped loudly across his ears. The sun’s fire beat him mercilessly. Without his warrior’s strength, his legs began to shake. Soon, torrents of sweat stung his eyes, and his lungs screamed for air.
 

But though he could hardly see through the pain, he kept his gaze bent upon the far horizon — on that thin, wavering line of green.

The sun never moved. It was as if this entire world were frozen into a single moment of time. There was an unshakeable spirit about it, one that draped itself in relentless folds across his shoulders. Every breath he took singed the insides of his chest: the air seemed to drain him, rather than give his body strength. He found no reprieve in slowing his pace.

It wasn’t long before he fell into a dogged march.

Though he must’ve run for hours, the horizon seemed no closer. Surely it was only a trick of his eyes. Kael turned to see how far he’d gone from the mountains … and saw that he hadn’t moved an inch. They were still right behind him — an arm’s reach away.
 

It … it wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible.

Kael twisted back to the horizon and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw he wasn’t alone: a man had appeared before him. He was dressed all in white, clothed in a plain tunic and breeches. There was a great sword propped over his shoulder — one so large that he didn’t think anyone but a whisperer could’ve carried it, in life.

The man’s slight frame, thin features, and flaming red hair were undeniably familiar. Kael recognized him immediately:

“Setheran?”

The man didn’t reply. Though his body certainly belonged to Setheran, the eyes did not. Where the Wright’s calm stare should’ve been, there were two pale orbs — a dead man’s eyes that shone with a soft light.

When the man stepped closer, he didn’t move with Setheran’s commanding gait. Instead, his feet seemed to drift across the top of the earth — still and silent as the barren lands, not a trace of dust churned up behind him.

Though this man wore Setheran’s skin, Kael had a feeling he was … someone else. Some
thing
else, perhaps. His body didn’t even cast a shadow behind him.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

The man’s white eyes pierced him as he replied: “Death.”

For a moment, Kael froze. All of the sun’s heat evaporated against the chill that coursed down his spine — peeled aside by a set of horrible, dagger claws. But behind his fear rose something else: an armor that didn’t give in to the cold, a resolve that melted his worries.

It made even
Death
seem small. “If you’ve come to kill me, then get on with it. Otherwise, let me pass.”

Death studied him calmly. “I haven’t come to kill you. Your mortal soul has fallen here while your body lives on in the realm of light — and since you are not truly dead, your spirit isn’t weak enough to cross these lands.” His head turned slightly, and his stark eyes fell upon the green horizon. “I can offer you no passage.”

The sun burned so fiercely now that Kael swore he could feel his skin shriveling beneath its light. His sweat turned molten and stung him along every hair’s breadth of its trickling path. His legs shook too badly to run. Though he hadn’t moved in minutes, his lungs still screamed for air.