Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Read online

My take on it is that they’re using the legend to claim right to land they so fiercely covet, and I’m guessing it has something to do with the rumoured veins of gold running through Valamette’s mountains.

  The guards return and the squad moves down a few blocks to continue their search. Once they are out of sight, I swing down from the rooftop and drop lightly to the ground. My feet hit the wet cobblestones with a splash, and I dart into the shadows. Keeping close to the walls, I make my way further into the area already searched. They aren’t likely to retrace their steps until morning, so I should be safe until then. But just in case, I need to find an adequate disguise and an out-of-the-way place to sleep for the night.

  Lord Thane’s estate is in the wealthy sector of the city of Weisport, Zandelba’s largest port city. There, the streets are clean and orderly, so those of the upper class can imagine the rest of the city is as well-to-do as they are. But the further I go into the city, the more I see the poverty of its underworld. The rows of cobblestones grow uneven and dirty, and the gutters run with sewage. Beggars, street urchins, and drunks are standard spectacles, and the evening air is filled with the loud music and brawling from taverns on every other street corner.

  I enter one such establishment for long enough to filch a cloak from a man who is too drunk to notice. I say a silent apology as I leave, hoping he doesn’t have as much a need of it as I do. Throwing the cloak over my shoulders, I pull the massive hood down over my face, gagging as the sharp pungency of spirits fills my nostrils.

  Even with the cloak as a disguise, I stay close to the shadows. It’s easy to spot me because of my stature, which Ralcher will surely have told my pursuers. I’m short for my age, just a few inches shy of five feet tall. There aren’t many young children out in this part of town after dark to blend in with.

  “Halt!” a voice rings through the air behind me. “You there, turn about!”

  I don’t look to see who said it; I bolt. A singular pair of footsteps pounds on the pavement as the owner of the voice chases after me. My heart hammers in my chest and the only thought in my head is to live another day.

  I reach the mouth of a dark alley and dash into it with a burst of speed. Even as I do, a wall looms out of the darkness in front of me. I slam into it before I can stop myself. Dazed, I spin around, throwing my back against the wall, and look back up the alleyway. My pursuer is nowhere to be seen. Breath held, I listen, but the sound of his footsteps has all but vanished.

  Relieved, I lean back into the wall and let myself breathe, silently begging the shadows to cover me. But fate is against me tonight. The moon bursts from behind the clouds and casts its pale glow upon my face.

  Something about the alley looks hauntingly familiar. The shadowy dead-end, the upward slant to the street outside, the dirt beneath my feet; this is the same alley I somehow saw from the scullery.

  This can’t be a coincidence.

  I step away from the wall, scanning the shadows. The beggar had come from the left corner, which is more shadowed than the other. He could be there now, watching me as he has always done. If he is, perhaps he can explain why I have been drawn to this place.

  Afraid yet determined, I take a faltering step toward the corner and peer into the darkness.

  “Banner?” I whisper, then flinch, envisioning the beggar rushing out with his spiked club lifted to strike.

  But all is still.

  “Who is it that you seek?”

  Deep and ageless, the voice echoes as if from within my own mind, penetrating a dimension beyond sound. My heart bounds into my throat, and I spin around.

  A man in a dark velvet cloak smiles down at me. His face is shadowed by a deep hood, but what I can make of it is long and ghoulish. His chin is pointed, his nose oblong, and his complexion has a lingering white pallor that differs from the bluish pale of the half-breed. A deep scar cuts across one side of his face, crossing over his left eye.

  Despite his fearsome looks, his composure is dignified and his clothing is very fine. He is fully attired in black armour that glints in the moonlight. An expensive, dragon-hilted broadsword hangs at his side, upon which he rests his hand. Though his attire is dazzling, my eyes are at once drawn to the glittering black signet ring on the middle figure of his right hand. On it, a fierce dragon with eyes of ruby is trapped within a circle of silver chains, its wings lifted in flight, and a golden ring dangling from its fangs.

  I step back from him distrustfully, pulling my cloak further around my shoulders. “I seek no one.”

  The man chuckles good-humouredly, which does nothing to ease my discomfort. He seems delighted to have found me here, though I don’t judge him to be the type to go after a runaway slave for the reward money. My eyes scan the walls for the easiest path of escape should it come to that. I’m not a fighter, but I’m swift on my feet. This man may have a sword, but I doubt he’s as agile as I am.

  “Who is this Banner?” he asks.

  “Just a beggar that lives here.” I speak as though I’m sure of myself. I’ve heard that looking people in the eyes means you aren’t lying, so I do that too. “I owe him some money.”

  He raises his scarred eyebrow in concern. “You? But you’re just a boy!”

  I straighten up, as if somehow that might make me look older. “I’m fifteen!”

  He doesn’t look convinced. “Where are your parents?”

  “Don’t have any.”

  Feigned sympathy replaces his suspicion, and his earlier good humour fades. “I am sorry. Perhaps I can help you find your friend?”

  I shake my head, annoyed by his false kindness.

  His mouth turns down in mild disappointment. “You certainly are a mistrusting child... Ealdred.”

  My façade fails me. “H-how do you know my name?”

  I’ve never told anyone my name. Not that anyone has bothered to ask. I have held it as a deeply cherished secret.

  He steps forward and appraises me. If I’m going to make a run for it, I should go now. But then I see something that makes me freeze. His eyes, which had been shadowed only moments before, now glow crimson.

  “Don’t be afraid, Ealdred.” His voice is a biting mockery as he emphasizes my name a second time. “I only want to talk.”

  “Who are you?” I demand. “What are you?”

  He throws off his hood, revealing a crown made from some sort of black metal on a head of long, wispy white hair. The crest of the crown renders two dragons facing one another, each with a foot on an oval ruby between them. Tiny rubies glisten in their eyes and all the way around the scaly circlet of the crown.

  “I am Zeldek,” he cries, his voice booming in the still night air, “Lord of Gaiztoak, Keeper of the Aemurel, Ruler of the Vaelhyreans, and King of Theara; and I will have your allegiance!”

  My mind works out the details on its own. Zeldek came here to wait for Banner and Ulmer to return with their charge and found me instead. However great my fear, I quickly decide that the best way to handle this situation is not to stammer like an idiot.

  “King of Theara, you say?” I ask, my voice quavering in spite of myself. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of you.”

  He stiffens and his eyes spark with anger. “It matters not who you have or haven’t heard of, half-race! You will bow to me!”

  “Why?” I scoff. “What good would the service of a lowly half-breed be to you? I’m a nobody!”

  A hint of a smirk turns his lips. “You truly do not understand your own worth, do you?”

  I shrug, and my words are as biting as the truth itself. “I am worth nothing.”

  “If you were worthless, I would not be here to retrieve you myself.”

  “I apologize for being so bold,” I say with deep irony, “but you’re wasting your time. I really am not worth anything. Please, I’ll be on my way before I cause you any more trouble.”

  Where the sudden courage came from, I cannot say. All I know is that deciding to scorn a powerful magician who claims to be king of Theara and then a
ttempting to walk away unscathed is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

  He draws his sword and bars my path. Fire leaps from the blade as he drives me back against the wall.

  “You dare treat me with such disrespect? You have lost the privilege of my kindness!” His voice deepens to a harsh growl. “Tell me what you know of this Banner!”

  I glance down at his sword, finding a growing need to muster up more courage. My voice comes out as a squeak. “I told you—”

  “You’re lying! You know this beggar is a Vaelhyrean. Don’t you?”

  “No! I don’t even know what a Vaelhyrean is!”

  He pulls back his sword until its tip is pointed at my chest. I gulp, staring at the sharp edges of the blade, and put up my hands compliantly.

  “Tell me the truth, or I will cause you such pain that you will wish you were never born!”

  He says this as though I don’t already deeply regret my birth.

  “Please,” I gasp, “I told you the truth.”

  The tip of his sword touches my shirt and the fabric melts away. The red-hot metal begins to scorch my skin.

  I grind my teeth, forcing back my distress. Focus. Remain calm!

  “I swear, I’ve never met him before in my life!”

  “But you’ve seen him, haven’t you? I know you have. You heard him speaking in the vision you saw this afternoon.”

  I inhale sharply as the blade cuts into my burn. Sweat rolls down my neck. “How do you know about that?”

  He smiles through his teeth. “You can hide nothing from me, half-race. I know more about you than you know yourself.”

  “Let the boy be, Zeldek!”

  The voice is loud, clear, unafraid. When I look past Zeldek, Banner’s form fills up the entrance to the alley.

  Zeldek whirls to face the beggar, drawing the sword away from my chest. Somehow, the release is almost more painful than when it was burning. “Ah, Banner. So very pleased you could join us. It’s been a while, brother.” He spits out the last word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth.

  Of course, they would be brothers.

  Banner approaches with a cautious step, holding up his hands to show his goodwill.

  “I am surprised to see you so alive,” Zeldek taunts. “You should’ve faded long ago. I suppose I owe that to Ulmer and his incessant watchfulness.”

  Banner dismisses his words with a wave of his hand. When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly placid. “Leave the boy be, Zeldek. He is under my protection, and I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

  Wait, protection? Me?

  Zeldek scoffs. “False words from a weak will. If it was protection you bestowed, why does he wear the scars of his masters’ abuse? Why has his life been under the daily threat of extermination under your watch?”

  “It was for his own protection that he had to endure such pain.” Banner’s passivity is beginning to grate at me now. One would hope a protector would show a little more passion, especially if their charge is currently in the clutches of the enemy. “I don’t want to fight you. I merely ask that you give him more time. He’s still a child.”

  More time for what? For this Zeldek to kill me?

  Zeldek draws himself up, towering above me. “Try and stop me, I dare you!”

  Banner bows his head, and when he looks up again, his eye not covered by the eye patch is glowing purple. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

  “Saurekin erre!” Zeldek cries, throwing out his hand toward him.

  All I can do is stare in bewilderment as flames shoot from the bare skin of his palm and roll down the alley toward Banner, threatening to engulf him. But Banner, who I am sure is a sorcerer as well, puts up his hand just in time.

  “Desxeo!”

  A violet flash counteracts the flames, engulfing them until they are extinguished. Banner then raises his right hand, and with a shout that I can’t quite make out, he sends a wave of purple light toward us both.

  With a casual flick of Zeldek’s hand, the light fades to an ebony mist. It touches his long black fingernails, and in an instant, the mist is sucked into them.

  I stare, eyes wide. That’s... not normal.

  “Zikinkeria!” Banner cries, causing the cobblestones between us to explode in a shower of rocks and dirt.

  A large root shoots out of the ground and twists around Zeldek’s sword to wrench it from his hand. But the blade bursts into flames, incinerating the root, which falls in ashes to the ground.

  Banner sways on his feet, and he grasps the wall for support.

  Zeldek laughs with scorn. “You are as weak as you have always been!”

  “Zeldek, I beg you!” Banner’s plea has become desperate. “Leave him be, for another year. You owe me at least that!”

  “I owe you nothing.” Zeldek’s voice is callous. “I will wait no longer!”

  Taking the hilt of his sword in both hands, Zeldek points the blade at the beggar. Banner throws up his hands as a wave of flames rolls toward him, a shield of purple mist surrounding him.

  “Run, boy, run!” Banner shouts as the fire engulfs him, but I am rooted to the spot.

  How can I flee from a man who’s in danger because he’s trying to protect me?

  Banner’s shield fails him. His garments catch fire and he throws himself to the ground with a cry of anguish. I leap forward to help him, but Zeldek shoves me against the wall and pins me there with his left hand.

  Regaining control of himself, Banner puts his hand to his chest, and the flames disappear. He raises his head feebly, attempting to pull himself up. But his strength leaves him, and his head lolls to the side.

  “Your power is pathetic,” Zeldek mocks. “You cannot protect yourself, let alone your last hope of redemption! Crawl back to Ulmer before I change my mind and cause you to suffer a fate worse than death!”

  Anger wells in my chest. If there is one thing I despise, it’s a person who torments someone weaker than themselves. This Zeldek, king or no king, is no exception.

  I struggled against the hand still holding me to the wall enough to reach the dagger on his belt. I snatch it, bringing the blade across the back of his hand, hard, leaving behind a sparkling trail of black liquid. Zeldek jerks it back with a yelp of pain, knocking the knife out of my grasp. Yet as he does, he loosens his hold on me, giving me the chance to twist myself free from his grip. I race around the crater created by the root’s growth and run to Banner’s side. His good eye has gone back to its normal shade of hazel and his face, where it isn’t scorched, is very pale.

  “Get away, fool!” he rasps.

  “No.” I crouch down and take his hand as gently as I can in my own. “I’m staying with you.”

  “He’s here for you, not me! Go while you still can!”

  I shake my head. “I can’t leave you here alone. Not after you risked your life for me.”

  His gaze darts to Zeldek, who is rubbing his hand in suppressed rage as he stalks towards us. “You don’t understand. I have to protect you!”

  I lean closer. “Why? Why are you protecting me? I need to know.”

  He struggles to get the words out. “You are Elroy.”

  I furrow my brow, not sure that I heard him right. Who is Elroy?

  “Enough! You’ve said your goodbyes!” Zeldek is upon us now. He grabs my arm, digging his long fingernails into my skin, and jerks me away from Banner’s side. “I leave you alive now, Banner, so that when next we meet, the one you ‘defended’ for so long will be the one to thrust the knife into your heart.”

  Then he raises his fist in the air. Dark mist comes in long wisps from the ring on his finger and encircles us. I try to struggle, to shout, to scream, to wake up from this nightmare I’m trapped in. But this is no nightmare. This is real, and I am powerless to stop it.

  The darkness envelopes us and all else fades into oblivion.

  Chapter Five

  T he darkness clears and I find myself emerging from a heavy slumber. My head p
ounds and my eyelids feel like lead. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. The alleyway? No, I’m somewhere else now. Somewhere warm, but closed off. I am completely alone – I can sense it.

  My arm aches, and I recall Zeldek digging his claws into it. I am lying on my back in the middle of a square space of floor. A grey smoke-like mist, like the kind you get when you blow out a candle, floats in the air above me and sheds an eerie light on my surroundings. The room in which I’m trapped is small – about twice as tall as I am in width, length, and height – and empty. The walls, ceiling, and floor are made of black marble as smooth as glass. There are no windows, no doors. No way in or out.

  No way to escape.

  It’s as if someone built this cage around me while I slept.

  I sit up with a groan. My chest stings where Zeldek burnt me with his sword, and I put a shaky hand to it. The cut has clotted now, and the skin around is enflamed, but it will heal.

  Taking a deep breath, I run my hands over my face, wiping away the tears that crusted it while I slept. My entire body is fragile, trembling, as the weight of my situation falls upon me.

  I’ve been kidnapped by a psychopath.

  What could he possibly want with me? For that matter, why did Banner risk his life to keep him from taking me? None of this makes any sense.

  I have to get out of here.

  My legs don’t want to move, but I make them as I climb painfully to my feet. They prickle as I turn in a circle, scanning the walls for a way out.

  Nothing.

  I stagger toward the nearest wall. The mist swirls to avoid me. I wonder if its purpose is solely to light the room, or if there’s something more.

  Mustering up my strength, I slam my hands into the wall. The moment my skin touches the glassy stone, a powerful force grabs me by the waist and throws me backward. I slam into the floor on my side, and quickly scramble back to my feet, searching for the attacker. But a quick glance around the room tells me it’s still empty.

  Empty, that is, but for the mist. As if it can hear my thoughts, it grows suddenly restless and rears up before me, taking form as a hideous monster with rows and rows of sharp fangs, and huge, flapping wings. Worse still, the mist tinges yellow as the air becomes unbearably hot, radiating from the jaws of the mist phantom. I leap back, throwing up my hands to shield my face. I break into a cold sweat, unable to move, to think, to breathe.